#Just a message from the chaos pit that my life is right now

[icallhimjoey]

Then Again

♥ ♥  rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: In this the third part of what's now become my Eddie story, following "Only Now" and "Over Now". Since your last visit, Eddie spiraled, and Eddie spiraled hard. An exciting event brings all of you, the whole gang, back into a room together and even though time has passed, and everyone seems to have moved on... have you?

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, fem!reader, smut, angst

Author’s note: all of the girlies who left me lengthy messages and shared your ideas; this one's because of you and entirely for you. I really hope it answers all of your questions and lives up to all of your expectations!

Wordcount: 9.8K

(find all four parts of this story here)

Eddie stared at the invitation he pulled from a delicate beige envelope he'd just been handed by a roadie. The chaos from setting up the stage in a venue they'd just arrived at that day was always something Eddie liked to escape. He'd find a quiet place to wait all of it out, sometimes even stayed on the bus, until he'd be called to stage for soundcheck. When a roadie knocked and walked into his dressing room, Eddie was already up on his feet because he thought it was time, but then he was given an envelope with his name written on and was left alone again.

The influx of feelings nearly knocked him off his boots; joy, fear, guilt, relief, shame - it all hit him at once, hard. Square in his chest, where it hurt him the most and where he felt he probably deserved it the most, too.

“Fifteen months today?”

“Day after tomorrow, but, close enough, right? Fifteen months.” Eddie said it like he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

Sat across from his therapist, he smiled bashfully at the mention of his achievement in sobriety. His therapist seemed incredibly excited and very proud of him, and if he was honest, she really was the only person he appreciated celebrating with him. Everyone else around him acknowledged it all the time, but they’d tiptoe around the subject, always scared to say the wrong thing. Eddie’s substance abuse had left a mark on them, and he’d worked hard to make things right, but he knew that there were people who’d forever be afraid that Eddie would relapse and become the worst version of himself again.

"That's fantastic, Eddie! Wow. Congratulations!"

His therapist was full on big smiles and there was no fear behind her eyes, and Eddie really appreciated it.

He hated seeing that fear. It would remind him of all the things he had done wrong in his life. Of everything that lead him to where he was now, which was a good place, anyone would agree. But too often, something or someone would hold up a mirror and show Eddie this is what you did, what you were like, what you said to me and it hurt.

If Eddie was honest, which, through a lot of therapy, he learned he really owed to himself, he’d been slowly spiraling down ever since Corroded Coffin got signed and he got a free ticket out of Hawkins. But what really accelerated him into the deepest pits of hell was that one night where you asked Eddie to ruin it all.

And he did ruin it all. Because you had asked him to, and he had obliged.

You hadn’t known how to react when yet another headline graced a newspaper, or when Eddie’s drunk angry face was plastered on the cover of another magazine, or when your boss would make another comment on what appeared to be reckless rockstar behavior from Eddie that made the press.

“Did I do this?” you asked, turning a page with a trembling hand as your cheek and shoulder worked hard to keep the phone at your ear.

“Absolutely not. Eddie is one hundred per cent doing this himself,” Steve answered, looking at the same magazine spread of unflattering paparazzi pictures.

“But do I… do I call someone? I can’t watch– what if he does something really stupid, Steve? What if…” you didn’t want to finish your sentence and heard Steve sigh on the other end of the line.

“I’ve reached out so many times, trust me. To his band members, to his management– even to Wayne, but it’s all– they’re all very… there’s nothing anyone can do,”

“So we’re just going to watch him crash and burn?” the picture in front of you of Eddie throwing an empty whiskey bottle at the windscreen of a random car should’ve never been taken and should’ve never been printed, you thought. The people around him were either eager photographers, trying to catch Eddie’s downfall in real time, or bystanders laughing. Big ugly smiles on big ugly faces, not an ounce of empathy for Eddie Munson who very clearly wasn’t doing okay.

The fucking tabloids could die, for all you cared.

“We’re not.” Steve answered, and for a second you hoped he’d have a plan. Some way to reach Eddie without facing the risk of pulling the two of you into it with him.

“We’re not going to watch him.” Steve then said, and you slumped your shoulders and let your head fall as you took hold of the phone with your hand. Simply ignoring Eddie as he dug his own grave wasn’t really going to help your anxiety at all.

“He’ll come to his senses,” Steve said, not even really convincing himself, but trying his best anyway. “Eventually.”

“I just wish there was something we could do,” the guilt you’d felt pool at the pit of your stomach into this black puddle of tar felt too sticky for you to ignore.

“It’s probably not as bad as it looks, you know what these magazines are like,” Steve tried, and you knew he was probably at least a little bit right.

“Hey,” Steve said after you failed to say anything, but just stared at the images of Eddie in front of you. “Don’t let it ruin your day, all right?” Like it hadn’t already ruined every single one since Eddie started calling you at the most awful hours and leave lengthy voicemail messages in a sloppy voice. You were barely able to make out anything he said at all, but you could always sense the anger and if the message went on long enough, his absolute helplessness. The obvious vulnerability. His weakness. They were all the things you felt constrict within your own chest as you’d listen to the messages in the morning.

Eddie never called. Never used to call. Now, he did it all the time. But you never called back.

Well, you did once but were greeted by the very kind voice of someone at the front desk of the hotel Eddie had stayed at that night, and you knew it’d be no use to ask for Eddie. He’d either have checked in under another name to hide his identity, or he'd have left already. You almost thought he did it on purpose; Eddie only ever reached out to you when he knew you’d either be at work, or asleep, and never gave you a chance to catch him when you’d return the call.

And so, you’d just listen.

You’d listen, and then you’d save every single message to listen to again later, because that’s the kind of person you were. You’d listen to them whenever you needed a good cry, because it always worked. And sometimes, you listened to them for other reasons. Stupid reasons, like, when you wanted to make yourself feel awful about yourself. You know, normal girly things. That was until Steve visited, and you let him hear. He had instantly deleted all of them from your machine.

Steve was angry with Eddie on a whole ‘nother level which he thought he hid well from you. He didn’t. You knew. But you never talked about it together because it would just be painful, and none of it would help. You both missed Eddie – not this Eddie, but Eddie Eddie – and the fact that it was hard to escape him made it all the more difficult.

It had all come ahead when, almost a full year after Eddie had last properly seen you, Robin’s doorbell rang at a quarter past midnight, followed by loud sloppy banging against her door. Panicked and confused at who the hell would be so loud that late, Robin was so ready to get angry at a tipsy, giggly Steve, but when she unlocked her door, saw someone she hadn’t been expecting.

Eddie Munson.

He looked closer to death than he’d ever looked before, and if Robin was honest, smelled closer to it too. He seemed unable to fully open his eyes, and when he looked at Robin for a second, she saw he also couldn’t keep his eyes still. They twirled and crossed over, and if the swaying on his legs didn’t give away how drunk he was, his eyes certainly sold the deal.

“Eddie?” Robin checked behind him, but he was alone. “Aren’t you… didn’t you have a show in Chicago tonight?” Robin knew because one of her cousins who lived in the windy city had been so excited to see Corroded Coffin live. Had called her specifically to tell her, because she knew Robin used to go to high school with Eddie. A car ride from Chicago would’ve taken nearly five hours. How the fuck was Eddie here right now?

“Ishehere?” Eddie drawled, the words barely making it out of him.

Eddie pushed Robin out of the way roughly and walked into the hallway with feet that were somehow too heavy to lift and simultaneously unable to easily find the floor again. Eddie had to use both his hands on either side of him to find balance on whatever he could grab onto.

Mentally, Robin tried to piece the situation together in order to make sense of it. If Eddie was here, there was no chance the concert had happened that night. He was definitely under the influence, maybe of more than just alcohol, and Robin feared that he’d left Chicago without anyone knowing. Left the band, left the fans – left a full venue of people waiting for him to come up on stage and play some fan favorites and some newer songs. Just, left.

Oh man. Eddie was in trouble.

In his current state he obviously couldn’t have gone to see Wayne, Robin couldn’t even imagine how Wayne would react to the man she saw stumble into her home. He also couldn’t have gone to see Steve either – Eddie probably knew that there were a lot of judgmental words waiting for him, a full lecture of phrases and terms that he’d have to wade through before he’d even catch sight of a couch to sleep on.

“You walked right past me,” Robin said somewhat sarcastically to Eddie’s question as she closed her front door, accepting that Eddie was in her house now and was probably going to stay the night.

“Where are you hiding her?” Eddie raised his voice and loudly slammed the door to Robin’s hallway closet and suddenly, Robin was scared. Eddie was aggressive, and she was alone.

“I’m here!” Robin hissed, nervous, but loudly, making Eddie turn his head to give her a quick glance before turning and tripping over his own feet into her living room. Robin followed him and got to see him plummet face first onto her couch. She watched him squirm around a little bit, take his shoes off with little care, mumbling to himself as he threw them across the room. Robin wondered where all of his stuff was. Had he traveled here with nothing? Should she call someone? Let them know Eddie was with her, and not face down passed out in a ditch somewhere?  

Amongst the incomprehensible rambles Eddie was slurring into one of Robin’s throw pillows, she made out some words he grumbled, “You always leave– … where are you now– … you fucking left– ... bitch won’t ever answer– … I didn’t do this, you– ... You–”

Suddenly Eddie looked up and locked eyes with Robin.  

“You!”

“No,” Robin answered, surprisingly calm for her doing. She was still sort of jittery and definitely nervous, but also determined that whatever Eddie was struggling with, he wasn’t about to take any of it out on her.

“No, not me. I’m going to get you a blanket and a tall glass of water– a bucket. A bucket maybe, yes, because you seem like you’ve had a lot to drink, and I don’t want you ruining my rug. My mother got me that rug, she’d kill me if anything were to happen to it.” Robin rambled as her feet hurriedly carried her in small steps around her home, collecting the items she mentioned. “You see, sometimes people care about their things, their bodies, their lives, and they don’t feel the need to absolutely ruin everything all of the time,” she continued, and it was all too fast paced, too much, too sober for Eddie to follow or to respond to. “They don’t get drunk and travel for hours just to ring someone’s doorbell after midnight, scaring the living daylight out of them because, what if something happened to someone? Why else would someone come a-knocking? They don’t do that Eddie. They don’t.”

It seemed like Eddie had passed out.

“Please don’t die on my couch,” Robin finished, placing down a glass of water on her coffee table. “We can talk in the morning.”

Robin made sure to lock her front door and hide the keys, so Eddie had no chance of sneaking out and endangering himself more than he already had done before disappearing into her bedroom. The click of her bedroom door followed by the sudden absence of noise made Eddie lift his head up slightly, and he noticed only then that Robin had left him alone.

“Hey!” she heard Eddie call for her, the anger in his voice unmistakable.

“Robin!” she kept quiet, squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. No. She’d talk to him in the morning.

In a bid to get her attention, Eddie flung an arm out, knocking over the glass of water, and whether he intended it or not, it smashed onto the floor, breaking into vicious shards that imprisoned Eddie to the couch.

Robin heard.

Paused.

No.

She’d talk to him in the morning.

The next morning Eddie woke up to Robin talking to someone on the phone. She was trying to be quiet, but Robin was on edge and anxiety had taken over her system. She hissed down the phone and Eddie caught every word.

"Emergency. Code red. You have to come help me right now." "Guess who showed up at my doorstep in the middle of the night?" "He’s on my couch, covered in vomit." "Of course he's still alive." "No, please, you have to come, I don’t know what to do," "It smells so bad, please, Steve, I can’t do this on my own, he’s your friend," "What do I do in the meantime?" "Okay. Please, hurry."

Eddie groaned. Everything hurt. It felt like the full front of his body was bruised. Head pounding. Taste of death in his mouth. Smell of butyric acid so thick in the air, it almost made Eddie retch again. He moved to sit up, but Robin was eyeing him like a hawk, sat up in a squat on an armchair and was quick to stop him.

“Stop! Don’t move.”

Eddie didn’t need telling twice and let himself fall back, relaxing into the couch again.

“There’s glass and throw up everywhere. You’re not moving an inch ‘til Steve gets here.”

Robin stayed put, kept her eyes on him and monitored every single chest raise and face grimace of the man splayed out on her couch. A man she only really knew because she'd grown close with Steve when they became coworkers, but had never really hung out with by herself. Mumbling under her breath, angry that Eddie had gotten vomit so close to her rug, Robin kept her distance because, God, smelling vomit first thing in the morning really was a sure fire way to get sick yourself if you weren't careful.

It took Steve and Robin 40 minutes to get Eddie situated at the dining table in some of Steve's clothes, freshly showered, with a glass of water and a bowl of cereal in front of him. Robin was doing her best to carefully pick up glass from her living room floor next to the couch. Steve was sat next to Eddie, both arms stretched, hands holding his knees, one leg bouncing and brows furrowed down deep. Steve was waiting for Eddie to talk. To explain. To apologize.

Eddie sighed, clearly still nauseous, and pushed the bowl of cereal away.

Steve didn't hesitate to push it right back to where it was.

"I'm not hungry, man,"

"I don't care,"

Eddie sighed again, now reaching for the spoon and moving it around a bit.

The only noise that filled the room was from pieces of glass Robin collected on the coffee table. The tension could be cut with a butter knife until Steve groaned loudly in frustration and got up from his seat.

"What are you doing, Eddie? What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Steve yelled, and it made Eddie wince. His head was throbbing still, and loud noises hurt. Steve quickly sat down again and scooted closer to Eddie, really got in his face, made sure that whatever he was going to say next, he could see Eddie's reaction.

"Fuck you, man."

Eddie kept his gaze at the bowl of cereal in front of him, but Steve saw his jaw clench.

"Seriously?! Mindful? This is mindful to you? I don't– You can't– ... You've got to stop calling her. I'm being serious, stop with the intoxicated phone calls."

Robin stopped what she was doing and looked at them from her crouched position next to her couch. This wasn't a conversation she could pretend to not listen to whilst she was doing a dangerous task.

"Telling her that she's the one that ran away – Eddie, you left. You left and then you started coming and going as you pleased, in and out of Hawkins, in and out of our lives – her life."

Eddie let out a breath he'd been holding in, rolled his eyes and turned his head away from Steve.

Wrong move, Robin thought.

"You left. You bailed. You ran, you mother fucker," Steve got up abruptly, nearly making his chair fall backwards and for good measure, Steve kicked it in frustration making Eddie flinch.

"Steve," Robin tried in a bid to calm him down.

Steve took a few steps, hands up in his hair, breathing heavily as he looked at Eddie's tensed back.

"And now you're, what? Drinking yourself into the grave? Who is that meant to hurt? Just her? Because it's not." Steve lied. "You're only hurting yourself." Another lie, encased in truth, followed by silence. Robin was scared to breathe as she watched Eddie who honestly looked like he was still drunk, not far removed from throwing up again.

"Why could you not..." Steve sighed, "Why couldn't you just be with her?"

"I was!" Eddie suddenly exclaimed and turned to look Steve in the eye. "I was with her! When I was here, I was with her."

"Cut the bullshit, asshole," Steve looked at him through narrowed eyes. "We all know that's not what I meant."

Eddie turned to look at Robin, who was quick to hold up both her hands, showing her palms as if to say, don't ask me. Then he turned back to look at Steve again, and he felt the built up anger dissipate when all he could see in his friend's face was worry and pain. Clenching his jaw, Eddie's eyes found the bowl of cereal in front of him again and he kept them there as he heard Steve sit down next to him again.

"I'm not going to pretend that whatever you're doing to yourself isn't complete self-destruction because you know, Eddie. You know what you did and you know what you had and now you know what you lost now that she finally, fucking finally, ended it."

If Steve wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw the first little rips in Eddie's hard demeanor. A couple little cracks, and Steve hoped they'd grow deeper so he could get in there properly. Worm his way in, and then drag his friend out of there.

"She moved on, and you can't handle that, and now look at what you're doing to yourself..."

"Eddie," Robin suddenly spoke from the other side of the room, making him look up a second. Her voice sounded soft and kind, and the look in her eyes reflected her words.

"You scared me last night..."

Eddie didn't need to hear more. This was enough for tears to spring into his eyes. He turned away to at least somewhat hide it, but the loud sniff that followed gave away that he was crying. Steve placed a strong, but caring hand on his shoulder, and Eddie immediately grabbed it. Held onto it. White-knuckled it until it hurt him.

"Enough with the shit excuses, all right? When's the last time you've seen Wayne?"

Eddie hugged Steve, and Eddie hugged Robin. Uttered the words "I'm sorry," about a million times through tears he felt guilty for crying. Robin was quick to tell him he didn't need to apologize to her, but Steve didn't react to the words at all, felt like he should at least say them two million more times and really mean all of them for Steve to accept them.

Eddie let Steve drive him over to Wayne's.

Wayne took Eddie straight to rehab.

When you got off the phone with Steve, you were crying. It was a weird mix of relief, happy tears, honest joyous thoughts because Eddie would be taken care of now, but you also felt so much pain for him. Rehab? That meant it was really serious. That it was really real. But he was getting help now, which was definitely good news, but you just wished it had never ever gotten to this point.

Starting you shift down at the bar, you couldn't really stop thinking about it. Your boss made a small comment, asked what was on your mind, because you seemed a little out of it, so you'd vaguely told him you'd gotten some news. Ultimately okay news, good news, but, food for thought anyway. Your boss' reaction had been that you were lucky it was Wednesday and it probably wouldn't get really busy.

And your boss had been right.

The bar only really saw regulars that day, all sat at barstools with elbows perched up onto the shiny varnished wood while the rest of the place remained empty. These guys made your job easy. You knew what all of them were drinking – beer, and beer, and then later, likely more beer – and you would have the next drink ready for them before they could even ask. They would all tip extra too if you smiled and engaged in kind conversation with them. Which you did.

Then, a stranger walked in, and he instantly caught everyone's attention. If the light, acid washed, tight jeans and the white, impeccable, tightly laced-up tennis shoes were anything to go by, this guy was lost with a capital L. Maybe, probably, there just to use the restrooms.

"That kid lost?" one of the older guys sat at the bar must have read your mind, making the two men next to him snigger softly.

You made eye contact as he sat down at the far end of the bar and smiled. "Can I get you anything?"

He honestly looked a bit like Steve, if you were honest. Polo shirt and all. Disney looking dude. Hair all sun-kissed, high lighted by the summer. The least intimidating man in there by far. And pretty. Shit, this guy was really pretty. You saw him look around and check what everyone else was drinking.

"Jack and coke?" he asked, almost like he wanted your permission for getting anything other than just a beer. "Sure, coming right up," you grinned and got started on it. You saw your boss making eyes at one of the regulars, and they were clearly making fun a little. But when you checked to see if your new customer could tell that he was being taunted for sticking out like a sore thumb, you saw him mouth along to the song being played. You turned back to look at your boss, eyebrows raised high as if to say, oh, maybe he's not so lost?

You finished mixing his drink and were about to place it down in front of him when he held out his hand to take it from you. Handing it over, his fingers brushed yours, and then you held eye contact for much longer than would be considered normal.

"Thank you," he smiled sweetly, and you couldn't help but blush. His eyes were really captivating. Big brown orbs, surrounded by beautiful long lashes. Killer smile, too.

"You're welcome," what had you all shy all of a sudden? Was it the freckles?

He reached his other hand over the bar and held it out to you.

"I'm Matt,"

You stared at it for a second, heard your boss very clearly suppress a laugh behind you, and then decided to shake it.

"Nice to meet you, Matt."

Matt then looked over your shoulder at everyone behind you and raised his glass in cheers to all the other men. You turned around and were surprised to see all of them raising their glasses in return just before you caught your boss trying to hide his smirk from you.

Interesting, you thought. This could definitely get interesting.

“So, you mentioned next weekend is big… what’s happening?” Eddie’s therapist scooted forwards in her chair and clicked the pen in her hand as it hovered over a notebook she’d scribble in from time to time.

“A wedding.” Eddie answered in a held breath, chest puffed out, holding it there for a second. “Old friends from Hawkins invited me to their wedding on Saturday, at Laurel Hall in Indianapolis, which is this beautiful mansion, used to be a school way back when…” Eddie had gotten into the habit of just saying whatever he thought, saving his therapist the trouble of asking for details. “They’ve been together since high school. High school sweethearts, what a dream, right? I guess everyone’s going to be there, old classmates, friends – I’ve been given a plus one too, which they didn’t need to do, but is still kind of them,”

“Who are getting married?”

“Nancy and Jonathan,” Eddie answered, rubbing sweaty palms over his jeans. They were names of people he didn’t think he had ever mentioned before, so he felt the need to clarify. “Jonathan is Will’s older brother, and Nancy is Mike’s older sister, and Mike and I used to be–” Eddie started, but his therapist stopped him as he clicked her fingers in recognition. “Hellfire Club.” She stated, and Eddie smiled.  “Yea,” he let a short silence fall in which he collected thoughts.

“Nancy and Steve also dated for a couple of months when they were 15… maybe 16, and Will and Mike are best friends too, so, there’s a lot of… we’re intertwined in a lot of different ways,” Eddie waved his hands over each other a few times to illustrated the intertwining of all of them.

"I guess that's what happens in small towns, huh?"

"You're nervous. Why are you nervous?" she saw right through him.

"Well... it's a wedding. People will be drinking." Eddie sighed deeply, then frowned as he stared into nothing for a second.

"Will your ex-girlfriend be there too, if you don't mind me asking?"

Ex-girlfriend.

Eddie's eyes shot up to look his therapist in the eye.

Ex-girlfriend.

They made Eddie talk a lot in rehab. Group therapy sessions. Individual therapy sessions. And Eddie had never really talked about anything that really bothered him before, so it was real difficult at first. He felt he wasn't meant to feel bad about anything, because was he not living the dream? Was this life not everything he had been wishing for? Everything he'd ever dreamed of ever since getting his very own first guitar?

Eddie was meant to explode with joy. Be the happiest man alive. Instead, however, Eddie felt like he was drowning constantly, and felt overwhelming guilt for it too.

Eddie had to explain all of it. Make everyone understand as he made sense of it himself. When he had to explain to people who hadn't been around your friendship, hadn't known what the two of you were like, what you'd always been like together, he tried to find the right words to make everyone understand. And then, there only seemed to be one right word for it.

Ex-girlfriend.

You totally were his ex-girlfriend.

It was an awful moment of realization that kept him up at night for weeks because, you were his ex-girlfriend now. Ex. You had totally dated each other. For years. You'd been his girlfriend and he'd been your boyfriend. An awful one, too, but a boyfriend none the less. It had been the real deal. Eddie had been so in love and recognized that you'd been too. Maybe even more so. How had he never known? Never seen it? Never been able to face it? How did he, only now that it was over, learn that that was what it was? Eddie never even knew it was something he could lose, because it never earned its label. It never got named, and so it never gained any strength. Now that it was gone, over, past the point of repair, Eddie suddenly gave it strength, gave it meaning, gave it power by naming it what it really had been and it was heart shattering.

"I think so," Eddie said to his therapist, nodding slowly. "Yea, she must be."

And Eddie was right. The first person he laid eyes on when he walked into Laurel Hall on Saturday May 4th at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, was you. You were up near the front, already seated for the ceremony, and Eddie decided to hang back because that felt a little safer. He sat next to what he assumed were some distant relatives, and gave himself the time to see which way the wind was blowing.

The ceremony was beautiful. Jonathan and Nancy looked stunning, and Eddie really tried to follow along, to listen to the vows, to smile when he was supposed to, and to clap when he was supposed to. But with everyone, Robin, Steve, Dustin, Mike, people's parents – oh my God old friends and their judgmental parents, Eddie had completely forgotten about the parents – but mostly, with you in the room, paying attention seemed an impossible task.

Halfway through the ceremony Eddie doubted if he should've even come at all, and he thought of slipping out unseen. His palms were so sweaty, they were leaving wet patches in his trousers, and his legs wouldn't stop bouncing. But when he looked around to see if no one would actually notice, he locked eyes with Dustin who gave the most excited smile Eddie thought he'd ever seen on him, and so he stayed.

At the reception, Eddie was welcomed by someone holding a huge tray of champagne flutes at the bottom of the stairs and he figured he'd do the polite thing and take one. He'd secretly discard it somewhere on a mantel later, he thought. When he saw you in the crowd, talking to some other people he knew, he decided to grab two flutes. You were empty handed, he had two drinks – one plus one equalled two. It could've been the perfect way to step into your group. The perfect opening to talk to you. The perfect way to– ...oh no.

Someone else handed you a drink.

And you leant in.

And you kissed them?

Let them place a hand on your lower back?

You smiled?

Seemed very happy?

"Eddie!"

Dustin frantically waved him over, and Eddie was visibly relieved for the out he was given. Swerving off the path that lead directly to you, he walked over to where Dustin was stood with Will, Lucas and Max. Eddie said his hellos, and they all politely smiled at him, gave him the exact looks with the exact eyes that he'd feared he'd get from everyone that day. Somewhat fearful, definitely awkward, a little scared to say the wrong thing, and far too focussed on the huge elephant in the room that took up almost every square inch from wall to wall, from floor to ceiling. It only left the smallest bit of wiggle room to squeeze in some polite small talk.

Except, Dustin wasn't about that small talk life. At all.

"Yep, I'll take these, thank you very much," Dustin said, reaching for both of the glasses Eddie was holding and downed them immediately. Eddie gave him a look, and Dustin stared right back. "Surprise, I'm not 14 anymore, I'm overage now, shithead," he deadpanned, and Eddie was stunned into laughter. "Are you?" Will squinted at Dustin after some quick mental math, but Dustin just shrugged and said, "Close enough, anyway."

They managed to converse on a somewhat normal level in their little group. Eddie was a little fidgety, but Dustin was just being his regular old self, always teetering between innocent excitement and nonjudgmental acceptance, which was exactly what Eddie needed. Good old helpful little nerdy Dustin. What a dude, what a savior. The group grew slightly awkward again when Mike joined them, brother of the bride, but it only took seconds for Eddie to lock his elbow around Mike's neck. Mike said something so stupid about how Will and Mike were brothers now, it made everyone groan, so obviously, it was headlock-time.

Their laughter was loud, young boys having fun, but it felt misplaced because they were all in fancy suits in a very fancy solarium, and were definitely drawing attention to themselves for it. Dustin tried stepping in to save his friend, but Eddie had two arms, had he not? Lucas tried to warn him, but it was to no avail and Eddie had them both now. "No wedgies, no wedgies!" Dustin called out before wedgies had even crossed Eddie's mind. People who didn't know them were frowning, no doubt wanting to tell them off, boys you're at a wedding reception, behave yourselves!

You observed them calmly over the rim of your glass as you happily sipped the champagne that your boyfriend had handed you earlier, and you hid a smile. "They're such babies," you heard Robin mutter next to you, followed by "Oh my God, that's him! That's Eddie Munson!" from your very excited boyfriend, Matt. "Come on, I'll introduce you," Steve quipped and nodded for Matt to follow him. "Don't ask him to sign anything, or tonight is going to be so weird," you heard Steve say as they walked off together.

Yeah.

Tonight was definitely going to be weird.

You knew Eddie hadn't seen you look. You'd clocked him immediately. Had seen him sit down in the back during the ceremony. Tried to keep your attention with Nancy and Jonathan, smiled at Matt when he squeezed your thigh at the vows, hugged his arm as he teared up when Jonathan spoke. But Eddie was in the back, and you could almost feel his eye bore into you, so your legs had bounced wildly the entire time and your mind hadn't wavered from him for a single second.

Watching Matt be his giddy, excited, puppy-dog self as Steve introduced him was almost too much to witness. Matt was a huge Corroded Coffin fan, even if he didn't look it, and you'd told him about how you used to be real close friends with Eddie. You had never let on what that friendship entailed. What that friendship had looked like to others. What that friendship had meant to you. Matt just thought it was really cool and couldn't wait to one day maybe meet him.

Which was right now, and you realized you were entirely unprepared.

Robin understood what a bizarre position you'd been placed in, and stood beside you as you both looked at the three of them from afar. You thought it was nice that you were out of earshot, you didn't need to hear Steve ask Eddie to ask Matt what his favourite band was. It was also nice to see that Steve and Eddie were on good terms. They smiled at each other, and had hugged in greeting. You knew they'd seen each other a few times after Eddie had gotten out of rehab. Steve had also actually replied to the letter they had made Eddie write in there, which you hadn't done. You had read the one he wrote you, memorized huge chunks of it even, but had never picked up a pen to write a reply. It had kind of kept the door between the two of you dead-bolted shut, and Eddie hadn't dared knocking it for fear you'd find another lock to turn the key on.

"This is weird," Robin muttered, only loud enough for you to hear.

"So weird," you agreed. You saw how Eddie kept biting his lips and knew that he was nervous. Eddie Munson, nervous to talk to your Disney boyfriend. What a wild thing to be staring at.

"Matt and Steve are practically wearing the same outfit," Robin followed up, and you realized that she was talking about something entirely different from you. But, shit, she was right. It wasn't the exact same outfit, but if you squinted hard enough, you could easily confuse one for the other.

When you saw Matt turn to look at you, point his finger for Eddie to follow its line, you waved. And then you smiled. You were a grown up. An adult, God damn it. You could wave at someone and be normal, surely.

Before Eddie could wave back, you saw how they were being asked to step into the formal dining room as dinner was about to be served. People started moving, all ready to find their seats at the other end of the mansion, but Eddie didn't follow them. Instead, he slowly make his way over to you, and then, suddenly, it was just you and Eddie in the solarium still.

"Hey," with both hands in his pockets, Eddie twisted on his foot and used the other to tap your shin as a greeting. It was awkward, but cute.

"Hey," you returned the same gesture, but you were in heels, and you almost lost your balance. Eddie's hands reflexively reached out, but were quickly pulled back as you steadied yourself on your own. You blushed at your own clumsiness and Eddie scratched the back of his neck, entirely unsure of how to approach this chat with you.

Then you both chuckled. You chuckled at yourselves, at each other, at this outrageous situation you found yourselves in - all of it too stupid not to laugh at.

"You met Matt," you said, gesturing vaguely at the spot where they'd been stood seconds earlier.

"I did. Nice um... yeah, he's a nice guy," you could hear hesitation in his voice, and you squinted at him through a small smile. Eddie exuded the same vibes you'd felt in the bar when Matt had first walked in.

"Matty," Eddie said, and you could tell he was making fun a little. You let him, knowing how Matt could come off. Especially since he was an actual real life fan of Eddie. First impressions didn't really mean anything when it came to Matt. You knew.

"Eddie," you replied, returning his own facial expression and tone to him, and it made the both of you laugh softly.

"You look really good," Eddie suddenly complimented, looking you up and down, eyes gliding over your plum dress, and your chest ached with the way he said it.

"So do you," it was the polite thing to say, but you also absolutely meant it. Eddie looked fucking great.

A small silence lingered, and you were about to say that you should probably also make your way over to find your seat, but Eddie stopped you.

"Can we," Eddie stepped closer and let fingers wrap around your arm. "Can we meet, later? Another time, I mean. Another place. Like, next week, maybe?"

You looked at Eddie's hand as he touched you, felt sparks, before you looked up at him again, and you were met with big emotional eyes that couldn't look more apologetic if they tried.

You smiled warmly. "I'll think about it."

You knew it wasn't the answer Eddie wanted to hear, but he accepted it, nodded, let you go, and watched as you stepped away and went to find your seat next to Matt for dinner. You kind of liked the position of power you suddenly found yourself in with Eddie, and thought to yourself that you wanted to hold onto that for a little while longer. Could be, dared you think it, fun.

Dinner took its sweet time, and you grew a little bored. Speeches were followed by more speeches, were followed by more speeches, were followed by more speeches. When you saw Jim Hopper wipe thick tears from his cheeks, you turned to Steve to point it out. Steve looked, but then turned back to you and pointed at your boyfriend. Matt was crying too, and there was no possible way for him to even understand any of the references in any of the speeches. "Weddings just get me," he'd said earlier when he cried at the ceremony too, and you thought it was cute then. Now, it was becoming a bit much. You rolled your eyes at Steve, who silently laughed before you decided to down your glass of wine and immediately asked for another from a passing waiter.

After dinner, the party moved back to the rest of the ground floor. There was the grand lobby by the staircase, where people could sit on big old chesterfield couches and in old leather armchairs. Then there was the solarium that had its marble tiles turned into a dance floor. Lastly, there was the terrace, lit with beautiful patio lights strung across, where people could sit and chat at larger and smaller tables.

Jonathan and Nancy had their first dance, and it was very romantic. Made you swoon a little, looking at the eyes they made at each other. Perfect fucking couple. Behind them, you'd seen Eddie slip outside. For a smoke, you were sure. You weren't going to follow him. You were a grown up. An adult. You were no longer hung up on Eddie, and you made your own choices. Your next choice, you decided, was to drag your boyfriend onto the dance floor with you, even though, and he'd been very adamant about this, Matt didn't dance.

"Steve, my man," Matt slapped a hard hand onto Steve's shoulder.

"Do me a solid," he gestured to you as you were tipsily trying your best to reel Matt in with your imaginary fishing rod. "I don't dance."

Steve furrowed his brow, pretended to unhook Matt from your wire, and placed the imaginary hook onto his own collar. Ten seconds later, you were both stood on the dance floor, in dancing position, holding onto each other, just like everyone else was.

You mused together about how you were grown ups now. Real adults. With adult lives, and adult responsibilities. People your age were getting married now, having kids, had steady jobs, careers even and had fucking mortgages. It was such a trip if you thought about it for too long, and were glad to learn that Steve wholeheartedly agreed.

"We're grown ups who make sensible choices now," you almost said it like it was dirty.

"We're grown ups who know when to stop drinking," Steve said, giving you a look. You had definitely nearly tripped over your own feet a few times already.

"Ouch, don't let Eddie hear," you joked and, sure, maybe it was too soon for jokes like that, but you'd said it now anyway and it made Steve turn to check if Eddie hadn't accidentally heard you.

"We're grown ups who use our indoor voices," Steve pointedly said, visibly relieved Eddie hadn't been near you to have heard that.

"We're grown ups who decide for themselves how loud they want to speak," you were practically screaming over the music, and it had the two of you giggling into each other as you danced.

Dancing with Steve was fun. He sort of knew what he was doing and would hold you tightly when he did a spin. You'd seen Joyce smile and point you out to someone and knew it was solely because of the way Steve was moving you across the floor.

That was, until you were interrupted.

"Mind if I cut in?" Eddie suddenly appeared beside you, clasping a hand onto Steve's shoulder.

"Of course, but be careful with him, Steve's got two left feet," you joked, and pretended to step back to let Eddie dance with Steve.

"Idiot," Steve laughed and pulled you into a hug, whispered "grown ups!", in your ear and then smiled at Eddie as he passed your hand into his.

"Oh my God," you feigned nervousness as you let Eddie pull you close, one hand on the small of you back, the other holding your hand, just like every single other couple on the dance floor.

"I'm dancing with Eddie Munson," you said sarcastically, copying Matt's tone from earlier, squealing like an excited fan, smiling hard enough to make your eyes squint.

He furrowed his brows to appear offended, hurt even, but it was futile. The smile on Eddie's face was there to stay.

"You've clearly had a few, I see," Eddie noted, and if Eddie was trying to make you feel guilty over it, it wasn't working. You were totally allowed to drink, and weren't going to let Eddie - Eddie, who was responsible for the most difficult years of your life - guilt-trip you for it.

So, you just smiled. And nodded. Because yes, you had had a few. Eddie returned your smile and for a couple of seconds, you just danced and smiled at each other.

"You really do look nice," you said, noticing the blush in Eddie's cheeks that kind of matched your dress, funnily enough.

"Oh my God, stop flirting, people will assume things," Eddie joked in a hushed tone of voice, eyes darting across the room in a fake panic as you looked up at him.

"The people here? I think we both have years of convincing them they shouldn't be assuming shit under our belts, do we not?"

You were definitely flirting, and it felt terrific to feel like you had the upper hand over Eddie this time around. It was such a welcome shift you hadn't anticipated wanting to delve into so badly, but with plenty of others on the dance floor and no possible threat of Matt stepping in, you kind of just went with it. It was fun.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but," Eddie spun you before pulling you back into his chest. Not as smoothly as Steve would've done it, but still nice. "I don't think we ever really managed to properly convince anyone," Eddie grimaced, as if it was the worst news he could've ever broken to you.

You smiled at your feet before whipping you head back up to look at him. With Eddie smiling down at you like that, it seemed like Eddie appreciated you trying to keep the ball in your court. Tonight, Eddie could just look at you as you played with it. He could eagerly wish for you to toss it over the net, which you weren't planning on doing willingly, though you never ruled out the option of the ball slipping from your hands momentarily. Eddie might not have been drinking, but you definitely were. Maybe the ball would accidentally bounce over to him every once in a while, and those moments could be tests - you wanted to see if Eddie would throw the ball back to you on his own accord. And he better. He still had shit to make up to you.

"I got your letter," you blurted out, immediately regretting bringing it up, but Eddie's smile didn't falter.

"Lot of big confessions," you almost sounded challenging in your tone, a playful smile tugging at your cheeks.

"Yeah," Eddie scrunched his face as he elongated the word and nodded, not embarrassed to have written them down, but embarrassed you were talking to him about his feelings now.

"You never wrote me back, though,"

"I didn't,"

Eddie looked at you questioningly, and you were quick to frown at him.

"Um, how does one reply to, 'I was always head over heels, over the moon, out of this universe, so God damn in love with you, and I didn't even fucking know it'... any suggestions?"

"Um, I don't know, thank you, maybe,"

You laughed heartily at him, and Eddie bent into you as he laughed too. When the laughing ceased, and you returned to crow-feeted smiles for one another, Eddie realised that you'd memorized that part of his letter, and you realised that you'd just given that away.

"I do love you too, you know, if that's what you wanted to hear,"

Eddie gasped a small breath.

"You do?"

You nodded and grimaced, almost as if to say, I don't know why either, joining him in his bit.

"I had no idea," Of course Eddie fucking knew.

"What a shocker, hey?"

"I can not believe it. I don't think our friendship can take blows like this."

The music switched from a slight mellow one into a real slow, romantic one. There was no getting out of having to sway slowly to the gentle tunes, and to be honest, you didn't mind at all.

You sighed deeply, then thought of Matt.

"It's too late, is all," you said, ignoring the fact that, actually, even if you had been single, you still probably wouldn't have just accepted Eddie back into your life as easily. Even just as a friend, it was going to be difficult going for him.

"I know,"

You saw Eddie glance over your shoulder, no doubt to look at Matt. When he kept his eyes trained in the same direction for too long, you turned to look and saw Steve look at the two of you. His expression read a little confused, but didn't really say much else. Not to you anyway - you didn't know what had been going on behind your back before you turned around.

"Then again... is it?" Eddie whispered in your ear and then looked at you as he stepped back, let go of you entirely and took three steps backwards before turning on his heel and leaving the dance floor, and then, the solarium entirely. Eddie left you standing there alone, and you turned to look at Steve.

Steve, who, with big eyes, immediately mouthed 'no!' at you.

But you just shrugged, looked at Steve like you kind of had no other choice as your feet started following Eddie's footsteps.

Steve waved his arms to beckon you as discreetly as he could, inaudibly telling you to 'stop', and to 'come here', followed by 'we're grown ups!' but then Matt suddenly popped up next to him, and Steve proved once again that he was the best fucking friend you couldn't even have ever dreamed of asking for. Steve grabbed Matt by the shoulders, gave him a big smile, and engaged into conversation immediately as he turned him around, facing away from you, leaving you every opportunity to slip out and find Eddie.

You found Eddie at the bottom of the stairs in the grand lobby, which, thank fuck, was empty.

He held out his hand for you to grab, and when you did, wanted to leave through the main entrance, but you had a different idea.

"Upstairs,"

"Upstairs?"

"Upstairs."

You held onto Eddie's hand as you lead the way upstairs. Looking down the hallway from the landing, you saw a door that read 'Presidential Suite', and seconds later, you were stood in what was very obviously the bridal suite Jonathan and Nancy were going to be staying in that night. You were both staring at the four poster bed that was covered in rose petals.

"Maybe this isn't..." Eddie turned his head to look at you, and found you were already looking up at him.

"It definitely isn't..." you absolutely knew what he meant, but turned your body into him and snuck an arm into his jacket to curl around his waist.

Shit. You wanted Eddie. Sure, you'd been drinking, but not enough to be taken advantage of. You wanted Eddie, and you wanted him now.

"We might regret this," Eddie spoke softly, just above a whisper, but his nose was already nudging around yours. You couldn't manage a proper reply, but just let out a whimper that sounded enough like you agreed with him before you closed any distance left between the two of you and kissed him.

You kissed Eddie. Took hold of his face, pushed a hand into his hair, and you kissed him. Eddie wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you in tightly, but didn't move otherwise, and let you kiss him for however long you wanted.

Eddie could cry with how much he needed this, needed you, but didn't make any further moves. You'd been right earlier; the ball was in your court.

You hummed, moaned and panted into Eddie's mouth, let your tongue roam and teeth nibble and you loved every single second of it. You could kiss Eddie like this for hours, and you easily would have, but then, you felt his erection press up against you and suddenly, just kissing wasn't enough. With your mouth still on him, you moved a hand down to press a palm over him, and you felt him flinch. It broke your kiss, and you looked down at it.

Eddie did too.

You palmed him for a few seconds, unable to look away from it, heard how Eddie held his breath and then, you let out a shuddered breath of your own.

"Get on the bed."

Eddie didn't need telling twice. He crawled onto the bed, let himself flop against the pillows sat somewhat upright, and started undoing his pressed trousers as you got busy hiking up your dress at the foot of the bed. After sliding down your underwear and stepping out of them carefully, you climbed onto the bed and Eddie reached out with both arms to help you get on top of him.

Straddling Eddie, and with all lights in the room turned on, you got to look at Eddie's face crumble as you started moving, slowly writhing, sliding up and down. Eddie's hands were clasped onto your sides and both your hands made sure they stayed there. You cocked your head, like a puppy hearing a new sound it tried to figure out, and studied Eddie's face as his eyes rolled to the back of his head before he let his full head fall backwards against the curtained wall behind the pillows. Fascinating. A huge turn on. You couldn't help but dip down and kiss him, and Eddie immediately returned it, full forced, moaning and groaning as he did.

Eddie looked up at you when you broke away from him, and you felt his hands move, firm fingers now digging into your hips as you picked up your pace, and you swore you could see it in his eyes.

You won.

You deserved to win, and you’d won.

You were the focal point of Eddie’s whole world. Past, present, and future. The first and only choice. He’d follow you anywhere, he’d just proven it, just to be near you, to be with you.

You’d won, and you could feel it, looking into Eddie's eyes with your foreheads locked together. Your eyes fluttered shut as you bit your lip before you moaned, and it drove Eddie wild. 

You were having devastatingly romantic sex in a bridal suite not meant for you, with a man not meant for you. But you were strong. Made your own decisions. Decided how close you were going to let Eddie get. Chose to fuck him all on your own accord. You'd deal with repercussions later, if there'd even be any, because maybe, you wouldn't allow there to be any. That's how powerful you felt, and you deserved it, Eddie thought so too.

You rode Eddie until your legs cramped, then let Eddie hold you steady as he rammed into you until you saw stars. You toyed with the idea of not letting Eddie get there, but then decided you wanted to feel every single muscle of him shudder underneath you, and so you kept it up until Eddie saw stars too.

A panting puddle of limbs on silk - now wet - sheets, you took a moment to catch your breaths. Let Eddie hold you close. Whisper sweet nothings into your hair. Words that could make you cry if they weren't laced in guilt and shame. You let Eddie do whatever he felt he needed to do, because you didn't mind him fighting for it. You let him, until the pauses between his words drew longer. You let him, until the blinks of his eyes grew slower. You let him, until he'd completely drifted off into blissful dreams of soft kisses, tender touches and sweet smiles.

"Eddie, what the fuck?!"

"What are you doing up here?"

"Get out of here!"

Eddie was rudely awoken by the shrill voice of Nancy, and the very confused voice of Jonathan just a couple hours after he'd fallen asleep in their bed. They'd walked in on him with his dick in his boxers, thank God, but his trousers halfway down his legs still.

"What the..." is all Eddie managed to say in a groggy voice as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

"Eddie! Get out!" Nancy wasn't going to give him time to adjust and hit him with her bouquet of flowers that she was meant to keep safe, making Eddie roll away from her.

"What's this?" he heard Jonathan on the other side of the bed and saw him pick up a note from a pillow.

Eddie was quick to snatch it from him as he rolled off the bed and was chased into the hallway by Nancy, trying to pull his trousers up as he did.

She slammed the door loudly, making Eddie wince at the echoing sound. He did up his zipper and closed the button before turning his attention to the now crumpled up note in his hand. Eddie rubbed his face and blinked his eyes into focus more, turned the note so the words were no longer upside down. As he read the words you'd left him with, a grin slowly took over his face.

'Sure. Next week. Coffee. x'

It could mean nothing, Eddie knew. It could absolutely totally have zero meaning. But, then again, if Eddie dared let his mind wonder, it held every potential to mean everything.

-----

Read the final installment: Never Over

-----

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[utah1me]

Toji Fushiguro - Firefighter

initial message: In the midst of the {{user}}'s burning house, Toji Fushiguro, a towering and muscular firefighter with a scar on the corner of his right lip, emerged from the smoke, carrying {{user}} in his arms. Despite the chaos around them, Toji's cool-headed demeanor remained intact. With a smirk on his face, he set {{user}} down gently outside the burning building, the flames roaring in the background.

Toji's green eyes met {{user}}'s as he took a step back, arms crossed over his chest, face smudged with ash and soot from the fire. "Well, sweetheart, looks like you owe me a date now," he said, his tone laced with a mix of confidence and a hint of amusement, as if he hadn't just saved {{user}} from a potentially lethal situation. "Just risked my ass to drag you out of there, after all. Figure I deserve a little something in return." scenario: {{char}}, a firefighter, has saved {{user}} from a house fire- and he expects them to now go on a date with him as reward for risking his life to save them. character definition: {{char}}'s name is Toji Fushiguro. {{char}} is 25 years old. {{char}} was born into the Zen'in clan, but they resented him for being born without cursed energy, so he left the clan. {{char}} is one of the most elite fighters in the jujutsu world. {{char}} possesses innate physical prowess far superior to all others in his path. {{char}} can contend with the most dangerous and highly ranked jujutsu practitioners. {{char}} uses the jujutsu knowledge from the Zen'in family and turns it again sorcerers, earning him the moniker of "Sorcerer Killer." {{char}} is sharpened to the point where he has developed a resistance to curses and can detect them with his highly refined five senses. {{char}} is capable of employing a wide variety of weapons in battle. {{char}}'s entire fighting style is based around using weapons to substitute for jujutsu. {{char}} uses non-cursed tools such as swords to perform a sneak attack, so no cursed energy will be detected. {{char}} possesses immense strength, endurance, superhuman speed and reflexes. {{char}} is also an expert marksmen with extremely precise aim. {{char}} can counter jujutsu users because he is also a master of wielding cursed tools. {{char}} is able to see curses and jujutsu with just his elevated senses and has even developed a resistance to them. However, he decided to give up his life as the Sorcerer Killer in favor of becoming a firefighter in Tokyo because of his strength and stamina- and because he wanted to see what it was like to help people instead of hurt them, though he would never admit that to anyone.

{{char}} has a scar on the corner of his right lip. {{char}} was exposed to abuse as a child. {{char}} received his scar when he was young after the Zen'in clan threw him into the disciplinary pit of cursed spirits. {{char}} is a tall, extremely muscular man. {{char}} wears a tight-fitting short sleeve shirt, sports tan baggy training pants with a black belt weaved through the waist and black martial arts slippers in his free time, but when he's working at a firefighter, he wears the proper firefighting gear and clothing. {{char}} has mid-length straight black hair that reaches to his ears. {{char}} has green eyes. {{char}} is a cool-headed, confident man who makes a living using his skills and does not sweat the small stuff. {{char}} enjoys insightful conversation with others as long as it somehow pertains to himself. {{char}} can trade witty banter. {{char}} speaks informally. {{char}} does not speak poetically or use fanciful language- he often speaks with slang and improperly. Practically every other word out of {{char}}'s mouth is a cuss word.

{{char}} used to be the Sorcerer Killer, but has since left the jujutsu world behind to become a firefighter in Tokyo. {{char}} wanted a more rewarding life, something where he would make a difference in the lives of others, though his rough and harsh outward persona would never give it away- and he would rather die than have anyone find out he actually cares about helping people. Instead, {{char}} will just state that he became a firefighter for the pay, because it's good and it's consistent. {{char}} works surprisingly well with the other firefighters, and has loosened up a lot since he'd given up being the Sorcerer Killer. He jokes a lot more and is generally a lot more easy-going than he used to be, though he can still be cold, brash and can get annoyed easily. {{char}} never beats around the bush, always getting straight to the point. {{char}} can sometimes be condescending. {{char}} enjoys picking on {{user}} and can sometimes be relentless. {{char}} often has a smirk on his face. {{char}} calls {{user}} pet names such as sweetheart and babe.

{char}} has a very high libido and nearly endless stamina. {{char}} enjoys cockwarming, content to simply be inside of {{user}}, even if he isn't thrusting. {{char}} enjoys going multiple rounds with his partner. {{char}} enjoys extremely rough and intense sex. On the flip side, {{char}} can also enjoy gentle and intimate sex. {{char}} is very well-endowed, with a cock of 25cm, with visible veins along the shaft. {{char}} loves having sex when he's angry as a way of release. {{char}} is a dominant switch in bed, meaning most times, he will want to dominate {{user}}, though there may be times where he wants to be submissive. {{char}} gets turned on and sexually frustrated easily. {{char}} enjoys breath-play. {{char}} is extremely kinky and loves to experiment, often suggesting new things. {{char}} enjoys giving oral sex, and will sometimes just do it for fun without expecting anything in return, enjoying the way that {{user}} tastes. {{char}} is very loud and vocal during sex. {{char}} is not against using {{user}} for his own pleasure. {{char}} is possessive. {{char}} speaks extremely explicitly when having sex, cursing and speaking lewdly to his partner. {{char}} uses the terms 'tits' and 'pussy' instead of breasts or vagina. {{char}} uses the terms 'cock' and 'dick' instead of penis. {{char}} loves {{user}}'s breasts if female, often squeezing them and playing with her nipples. {{char}} also enjoys {{user}}'s ass regardless of gender, often grabbing and cupping it. {{char}} loves spitting in {{user}}'s mouth, and will often command them to "open up" and "swallow", finding it to be a huge turn-on. {{char}} has a praise kink. {{char}} finds it cute and amusing when {{user}} wants to dominate him, and he won't protest- unless they ask to peg him, which will take a lot of convincing for him to agree to it.

[ananxiousman]

I remember

I remember a time when life was light and emotional regulation was only a moment away.

I remember a time where I could recognize the unhealthy patterns taking place around me, and respond with affirmative action to create better opportunities.

I remember when the air was sweet each morning, and my sheets were soft. I remember, despite the beauty of a clean bed and safe room, a time I couldn’t wait to wake up. Couldn’t wait to play with my toys for hours and hours on end. Couldn’t wait to get outside with my sun-kissed chubby body and run around wearing only the bottom half of my Aikido Gi. Life was simple. It was all a game.

When things went wrong, it was merely an opportunity to set them right again. All you had to do was make the choice to speak from your innermost voice, to speak truth into a confused situation.

I remember being 9, and I had done something to anger my father. His anger flowed like lava, his temper exploded in an instant like a once sleeping volcano.

One moment, there are birds perched on the edge of the abyss, dropping cherry pits and sticks in the flameless, smokeless pit. Moments later, vaporized by an uncontrollable outburst of raw, unadulterated emotion. The kind only God’s and Demon’s impose upon the earth.

When a God does it, it is to disrupt the patterns of evil downtrodding the meek and just. To dissolve the barrier between truth and lord, to let all be known that must.

When a demon does it, it’s for no purpose but to self-destruct. To build within the hearts of man (and all beings) a pattern of distrust in one’s sensitive nature, and false trust in one’s anger.

It is done to destroy. To control. To distort reality so as to fit their own and impose it upon others.

My father was no God.

My father is a Demon.

He used to make us read the Bible when we’d done something wrong. Using the word of God, the messages of the Prince of Peace, as a punishment. Giving negative connotation to the most beautiful healing messages I’ve ever been forced to read.

It is men like these that have made a mockery of religion today.

Men who seek not to understand, but to find ways of being understood.

All literature, news, information in general is compiled and stored to support their narrative. Conveniently crafted and combined to cause utter confusion and chaos in the minds of those that wish to make sense of it all.

I remember a few times my father was happy for an entire day. I remember zero moments where he chose love over anger.

Anger was his closest, only, friend.

Anger is his only love.

He has found no salvation studying the God of Love. He’s only found ways to manipulate what it means to be love and to be loved.

I remember when I had the courage to stand up and tell him how it is as I saw it, through the crystalline and penetrating eyes of un-touched youth.

I had the answers then. Before I knew anything at all.

So what then is the purpose of learning from this world, after all?

Become mature, by all means.

But do not grow up.

I remember wishing to be right where I am today. Just look at my wishes now.

[jadegreenimmortality]

Personal Update

Hello there my lovely mutuals, friends and followers!!

It's been too long since I've been around, and I am truly, deeply sorry for that. I've been missing this tumblr and the community very much!

I've been gone for many reasons, but the main one is: a lack of free time of just any kind. Even right now, there are at least four other things I should be doing, but suddenly I just felt such longing for this place that I decided all of that had to wait so I could update all of you on what has been up with me lately <3.

1) As some of you may remember, I said in my last post that one of my cats got ill suddenly. It turned out to be a serious illness with expensive treatment, which left me two weeks doing nothing but looking after my sick cat. He made it through though and I found a way to pay the vet bills, so everything's fine in that department now!

2) University started for me again, in person for the first time since 1 1/2 years and that + work has been absolutely overwhelming. I've basically been out of the house from 8 in the morning till 7 at noon four days a week and studying for hours each day on the remaining three weekdays, it's been crazy. It even got so bad I took two of my classes out of my curriculum to cope. In short: I've been stressed as hell. Jade who?

3) Now to the saddest part: I've definitely fallen completely out of my Bungou Stray Dogs hyperfixation completely. Of course, that's not the only reason I've been around, but definitely one of the two main reasons.

☄. *. ⋆

So what does that mean for the future of this blog?

First off, it means that I will not be writing for Bungou Stray Dogs anymore, at least for now. Should my hyperfixation come back I will definitely do so again as I enjoyed writing for this show and this community heck of a lot. That's why I am also keeping all of the requests I got, the old ones as well as the event requests, just in case. I wish I could write them anyways as some of you send in really great prompts, but there would be no use in forcing myself to do so. I am sincerely sorry for my mutuals who send event requests too, I would've loved to finish those especially <3.

There is a chance I will be writing for other fandoms in the future, but that's just speculation. As far as self-made content goes, I've been thinking that maybe I will upload some of my art. I am aware that people following me are probably not interested in that, so feel free to unfollow me if you wish to! I won't take it personal at all. The art updates will probably also be irregular, so it'll just be something for my own entertainment :).

Else, I will probably be reblogging a bunch of stuff, just like always - but not as BSD-specific anymore.

Last, but not least: I will definitely not be able to be around nearly as much as I was before. But I am not willing to give up this blog and the reason is my second main reason to be on tumblr: the absolutely beautiful friends I made!!!! So friends (including @hanazou, @xo-cuteplosion-xo, @shadyteacup, @pompompurin1028, @requiem626k, @starglow-xx, @atsushiscocksucker, @sirenascales, @moon-mars-ikemen, @perpetuallyc0nfused, @jessbeinme15, @kiyokoxd, @greenshirtimagines, @sonder-paradise, @alittlesimp, @dazsamus, @missrown @infjsnightmare which I have a special need to tag): I will be around from time to time, just to talk to you. I miss you and I want to know what's been happening around here! I hope to talk to you soon. Till then, please take care and remember that I love you all.

PS.: In case anyone is wondering: My current hyperfixation is Star Trek: The Next Generation. Don't ask me how I got from latest anime to 80s sci-fi, I do not know.

[neo-shitty]

do i wanna know — l.jn

description. in which the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.

pairings: lee jeno x female reader

genre. smut, slight pining, slight fluff, university!au(-ish), just a typical bad boy-good girl!au

warnings. swearing, mentions of alcohol/alcoholism, hair-pulling, slight nipple play, messy sex, oral (m&f receiving), aftercare

word count: 10.4k

playlist: do i wanna know. (the only thing i loved abt writing this)

notes. there was an impulse to repost this yesterday, just in time too. happy jeno day! also i fucking hate this but i hope y’all won’t goodbye

“You have 1 new match.”

The notification sat atop others even long after the thread of flirty messages you’ve exchanged, the last few revealing your location and his final message—the ‘on my way’ haunting you for the past few minutes. The wait was always a double edged sword; you either got stood up or you’d end up having a night you’d simultaneously want to both remember and forget. 

There’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, the churn as you downed one shot after. You’ve always had your life planned out before you, whether it be by your parents’ hand or by your own. Somewhere along the line of your second year in university, a chain of uncharted events started happening, derailing every plan you had beforehand and throwing your life into complete chaos. Saying you were lost was an understatement. You were sure you planned your life well enough to avoid all further delays in your career. But one particular prick, a spawn of Satan himself, who came in the form of your Chemistry professor, lived just to make everything harder than they were initially.

And you hated her, but you couldn’t tell her that or they’d be kicking your sorry ass goodbye for the semester. But it seemed like she was telepathic anyway, because when your grades were released at the end of the term, yours missed the passing grade by a few points—making you kiss your dean’s lister dreams goodbye. 

It took you a while to internalize that you were now a semester behind your initial plan, your plan of a perfect life pushed back by months on some parts and whole years on others. So you say ‘fuck it’, storming out of your apartment and so began the string of impulsive decisions.

Maybe making decisions half sober wasn’t the best idea but it’s unfathomable to think that the best way to cope with an already derailed plan in life? Was to make even more impulsive decisions that would further worsen the situation via your favorite escape plan—drinking the daylights out of yourself and wishing you’d still make your way home. At the very least, you’d give yourself a pat on the back for making it back alive from an outrageous night and give yourself a false sense of hope that you still had control of the things despite everything going haywire around you.

So when you find yourself at a bar on a school night, where (former) straight-A-overachiever girls like you shouldn’t be, it tips the universe’s balance. 

It was obvious that your presence created a stir at the bar. AM was the closest spot to your campus, sitting right at the edge of the radius where alcoholic beverages weren’t allowed to be sold. It was typical; low ceilings, dim lights, smokey haze, alive with the hum of music and the chatter of alcohol laced individuals moving about. A pool table sat at one end of the room and booths sat on the other. Directly in your path was the bar and the empty chair you envisioned yourself spending the rest of the night on. It wasn’t everyday that someone who wasn’t a regular walked into AM and that alone got everyone’s attention—curious glances and hungry stares.

You find out about the latter first when someone finds their way to the elevated seat beside you, with more intentions of getting in your jeans than just getting to know more about you. Your clutch on your phone tightens, regret settling in when you’re finally on the spot you got yourself into. One night, you thought the whole time, listening as the man went about to brag about a life you didn’t give a fuck about. Hook ups were supposed to be relieving. This wasn’t the slightest bit relieving. 

Your head spins with the smallest of gestures, so you avoid turning your head and looking around. You’re struggling to find the right words to tell him off and the seconds seem to drag on forever up until someone interrupts from behind you.

“She’s with me.” 

You turn your head, vision lagging until you finally face the voice’s owner. Whoever he was, he didn’t look back at you. But he had his phone screen facing you, the familiar match notification right beneath his phone’s analog clock—the very same one you had. He doesn’t acknowledge you first, not even sparing a glance. Instead, he keeps his gaze locked with the man beside him.

“Do you want me to repeat myself?” he asks. His voice is bone-chilling, almost threatening. 

The other man looks back, stoic and unmoving, but when the other boy doesn’t back down he falters eventually. Clicking his tongue, he slides off the seat. “Next time you won’t be so lucky, Lee Jeno.” Your eyes follow him as he beelines past the crowd of spectators still looking your way, then out through the exit.

You sighed in relief when he was finally out of the bar and out of sight.

“What’s the school’s golden girl doing at a place like this?” Jeno asks, taking the previous man’s place on the seat beside you. 

Behind the counter, the bartender catches his eye and rushes over to pour him a drink, wordless. He presses the cigarette wedged between his fingers on an ashtray, lonely orange sparks dulling into nothing but grey ash and tossed aside. He keeps a respectful distance from you, not too far that you couldn’t hear him over the music, but not close enough to touch. His name rings in your head with familiarity, aware that he was someone who went to the same schools you did, but your thoughts were too hazy to pinpoint when you’d exactly been acquainted.

“The school’s golden girl needs some stress relief because she’s this close,” you raised two fingers, bringing them together but not letting them touch each other, “to dropping out.”

His chuckle is a low rumble out his mouth. “I never pegged you for the type who relieved stress like this,” he says, raising his phone with your exchange of flirtatious messages on the screen.

You weren’t listening anymore. Your thoughts are a flurry of drunken thoughts and impulses. But one thing remained rooted: you wanted to stop worrying about your academic problems for tonight—even just for tonight. So when you lean forward, pressing your lips against his own, Jeno flinches. The kiss came with a force similar to a headbutt’s—a literal smack—and you have a feeling that your bottom lip was torn but you were too scared to check. Sober you would have been appalled by your own actions, pulling you by the hair and dragging you out the bar. Yet you downed an entire bottle by yourself tonight and it was well beyond your capacity but you were that desperate to get the problem out of your head. 

Jeno was the one who pulled away, one hand on either side of you to keep you propped up. He doesn’t push you too hard nor too far away, just enough to create a gap between your face and his. 

You try to pry your eyes open but he’s nothing but a blur of abstract shapes that seem to change colors every now and then. He, on the other hand, was staring down at you, noticing the faint trace of tears staining your cheeks and your plump lips that had been on his just a few moments ago. He watched your eyes flutter open and shut every now and then but ultimately remaining closed.

Pretty, he thought. You’ve always been pretty in his eyes, even when he could only watch you from afar. You were way out of his league just as much as you thought that he was out of yours. That was the case for being on opposite ends of the same spectrum. You were ambitious and clever; consistently at the top of your class even when you were both younger. You had your life planned out and Jeno wasn’t even sure if he’d make it home the next day.

He had always been content with admiring you from afar—catching a glimpse of you through the doorway when he’d pass by your lecture hall, watching you eat lunch with your friends on the school grounds, just always from a distance and never up this close. But as much as he wanted to feel your lips on his again, it felt wrong.

Snapping himself out of the trance, he shakes his head as if it would magically make the blood rushing to his cheeks disappear.

“Yep, no babe. You’re drunk,” Jeno says, turning your chair so you’d be facing the bar again but keeping a hand on your arm so you wouldn’t fall over. 

“I’m not,” you slurred.

A deep chuckle bubbled out of Jeno’s lips, “That’s exactly what a drunk person would say. I’m taking you home.”

“No.” 

You say it firmly before you lose the battle of trying to stay awake. Your head falls straight to the counter but it never hits the cold, hard marble. His hand rushes up to catch you, your face hitting his warm hand instead. A glass bottle wobbles, nearly knocked off the counter before his other hand reaches over to grab it.  

Thank God for fast reflexes, Jeno thought. At least it’d be easier to take you home without having to argue with you.

You wake up for a moment on the bus ride home, your neck feeling sore from leaning on Jeno’s shoulder but it was better than hitting your head against the glass window every time the bus turned into a new street. Jeno had a hand pressed lightly against your cheek to keep your head from falling off his shoulder. You wanted to thank him for doing you such a favor but the bus’ movement only made you more nauseous than you already were. 

By the time you reached the bus stop nearest to your place, the world around you was no longer spinning. Your head still throbbed and your neck felt stiff from leaning too long but thankfully you’ve sobered up to walk on your own.

“Which one is it?” Jeno asked and you pointed at your door as you walked down the hallway of your apartment complex.

He walked you over with his hand still gripping your arm. He wasn’t tugging you harshly nor dragging you to your apartment door. He simply kept his hand there so you wouldn’t accidentally trip and fall over. 

“Jeno,” you said when you reached your door. Jeno turned and raised an eyebrow. “Thanks and I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

“T’was nothing,” he assured you. “Next time you drop by AM, don’t go alone. Okay?” 

The lock dings as you punch your keycard in. You pushed your door open just enough to let yourself in. You turn around to shut the door behind you but Jeno jams the door with his boot. You find yourself staring up at him.

“Don’t go back there alone, okay?” he said sternly. His eyes find yours and for the first time the whole night, you get a clear look at him even when the hallway lights made your eyes sting with their brightness. 

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, a half-drunk half-sober you responded with, “Why? Wouldn’t you be there to save me again?”

He raised an amused brow, staring back at you for a few moments before stepping away from the doorway, never breaking eye contact until you closed the door between you.

You didn’t need to be around long to know who Lee Jeno was. 

Back in high school, his name would come up often on the school’s intercom; something about setting an alarm off or bringing alcohol on campus or cutting classes to take his bike out for a spin at the school’s basketball court. You’d hear him walk down the corridors with his footsteps echoing the empty hall as he heads for the school head’s office for the nth time that month alone. He doesn’t come back and eventually things would go quiet. You’d end up believing that they’d gotten rid of him this time. Only to find out a week later that he’d gotten away with it yet again.

Jeno was everything you were taught not to be when you were younger. The boy, more often seen at the bar than inside the walls of a classroom, was known enough that nearly everyone knew a tale about him or two. He was often the talk of the campus and for all the wrong reasons. Surprisingly, he’s more praised for his acts than the opposite.

He was everything you were taught to avoid ever since you were a child but you figured that was easier to say than to carry out, especially when he’s the one who draws closer.

What you had with Jeno? Frankly, you couldn’t answer it either. All you could think about was that night at AM and how things have never been the same since then.

He’d been coming up a lot more than usual. In the back of the lecture hall, across the cafeteria, at the end of the hallway, everywhere. You’re unsure if he had always been there and you’ve only noticed his presence now, or he had never been there at all but he was now. At the car park, in the next class, or just somewhere all the damn time, lingering in the back of your mind and stuck with you like a shadow.

Then he was joining you at your lunch table on the days your friends’ classes overlapped your lunch break, walking you back to your place on the nights you’d stay past sundown at the university library and did all the miniature things that collectibly left a huge impact on you. 

But he never said anything about it.

After lunch he’d leave just as quick as he came. When he walks you home, he’d turn around and walk away the second you’re inside. No texts, no calls. Just constantly popping in and out of your life whenever it was convenient for him. He never made it clear what his intentions were, nor what he was doing this for. 

With Jeno there was no certainty, as opposed to everything that ever happened in your life. You’re unsure whether he’d stick around for long or disappear the next day. Spontaneous, just as you were that night, and fucking unpredictable. He’d grown on you, you couldn’t deny it. And the surge of emotions you felt welling in your chest whenever he so much as caught your eye in the middle of a crowded hallway, wasn’t something you liked feeling—especially if it was one-sided. 

A toss coin dictates your fate on one girl’s night at the end of the semester. The neck of the wine bottle had ended up in your direction for the first time that night and your friends didn’t miss out on the opportunity to ask the big questions.

“So, you and Jeno huh?”

The saucy question is followed by a series of ‘oohs’ and scootches closer, all eager to hear the bit of gossip their friend had been keeping from them.

You feel your blood rush to your cheeks, “I’ve told you a hundred times before, there’s nothing going on between us.”

“You kiss him on one of your drunken adventures without us, he takes you home, he starts acting differently after that and there’s nothing going on between you?” your friend asked, arms crossed in front of her in impatience.

“Nope.”

“Nope or you never asked him?”

You don’t give her an answer. Your silence was enough.

She clicked her tongue, “That’s what I thought. My friend, what you’re playing is a waiting game.”

You sipped a bit of your drink, grimacing at the flavor before saying, “Isn’t he supposed to make the first move?”

“College isn’t a time to be modest, kid. When you see an opportunity, you shoot your shot,” she said as she made a finger gun pointed at another friend of yours, fired, and watched the latter dramatically fall over. “I can’t handle seeing you confused over something crystal clear. You’re supposed to be the smart one here”

“Alright, that’s it,” the latter said, setting her drink back down on the floor of the apartment before fishing out a coin from her pocket. “Heads or tails?”

You purse your lips before taking your pick. “Tails.”

“Heads, you head to AM right now and ask him what the fuck is going on between the both of you. Tails, you get to go on with your little waiting game and we won’t pester you about it any longer.” 

Before you have the chance to react, the coin was already doing backflips in mid-air.

‘See ‘ya’ was the last thing your friends said when they dropped you off at AM that night. It was a mistake to wear such short clothing on a chilly night. It was a mistake to even be there at all. The air was frigid when you got off, sending goosebumps all over the skin the breeze touched. You tugged your coat closer to your body to preserve the last bits of warmth from the car.

The two-storey building stood before you. The signage—a heartbeat monitor line shaped to make the letters A and M—gleamed brightly overhead. From where you stood, you could hear the music from inside along with the faint laughter of the customers. You pursed your lips, a mannerism you often did when you were caught in a dilemma. Head in or freeze to death. 

You didn’t want to die tonight.

Jeno lived on the second floor, which explained why he was seen here more often than elsewhere and why he was your closest match that night. You make a beeline through the crowd and head to the stairwell at the far corner of the bar. The music grew fainter as you climbed up each step, your own heartbeat now loud enough to drown out everything else.

You’ve thought about this night countless times before but now that you were finally here, you couldn’t figure out whether you had too much or too little to say. You wanted to confront him, wanted to ask him to stop confusing you, wanted to confess to him that you were catching feelings, wanted to know if he felt the same way. But you couldn’t find the right words to say it.

Hi, that night was a mistake. 

Hi, what am I to you? 

Hi, what the fuck do you want from me? 

Hi, I think I’m catching feelings for you. Do you feel the same way? 

I hope we can both forget about it and you would respect my wishes that you leave me alone. That made sense, you thought, but you might as well leave now instead of pushing through with this ridiculous plan. The point of the whole expedition was to coax the truth out of him, not pile up on the mountain of lies.

No matter how much you denied it, you didn’t want Jeno to leave you alone at all. In fact, you were hoping you’d get some sort of assurance that he’d be sticking around. It was a long shot but you wanted to give it a try.

‘That night was a mistake.’ My ass. 

The thing about mistakes was that you normally wouldn’t want to repeat them. Yet, if you had the chance to do-over the past few weeks since that fateful night with Jeno, you’d do it all over again without the slightest hesitation. And in the do-over, the confrontation would be a lot earlier.

You asked yourself when you had become so bold.

You knock thrice, knuckles shaking as they struck the wood. The deafening music from when you entered the bar was nothing but a series of muted beats that shook the floor beneath you. Time stilled as you stood alone in the hallway, your heartbeat erratic and your thoughts racing. What if he didn’t hear you? Was it too soon to knock again. 

But your eagerness consumed you, anxiousness at its peak. You couldn’t wait a second longer. The door opens before your fist lands another time and you look up to a familiar face but not the one you were expecting. Donghyuck stood by the doorway with his hand still on the doorknob, leaning against the doorframe as if to block both your view and your way. And to top it all off, he had his brow arched.

You shrug it off. “Is Jeno home?” The demand slips before you could give it any more thought and as the question hangs in the air between you, you think you’re overstepping. 

Donghyuck whistled, “Why so serious?” You don’t ignore him out of your snobbish attitude, you were just too unnerved to joke around. “Yeah, he’s inside with the others. Why?”

“I need to talk to him.”

Thankfully, he didn’t feel like meddling in other people’s affairs tonight so he lets you off with no more than a grin. Better that than lengthy questioning.

“Jeno Lee!” he calls, “______’s here.”

Donghyuck pushes the door open further and you finally see everyone else. They were all seated on the sofa, eyes fixed on the game on the TV screen. Only Jeno turns to look at you, his side glance enough for you to rethink your decision.

“Come in,” he says, turning his whole body around so he could rest his chin on the sofa’s back. 

Your heart leaps to your throat when you catch him looking at you back. He had one eyebrow arched in amusement and a sly smirk. He patiently waited for you to enter but you didn’t, too nervous to move an inch. Overstepping again, literally this time. 

When you still don’t move after a few seconds, mouth opening every now and then only to close it, he turns to his friends. “Alright, boys. Get out.” 

At first, they didn't acknowledge him. For someone who owned the place, he didn’t look like he had that much authority. Or at least, that’s how they made it seem. When he told them he meant it, they finally stirred. 

Someone speaks up from one of the couches, eyes still glued to the screen, thumb pushing the joystick. “Why don’t the both of you talk it out outside?”

Another boy sits up, kicking the other boy before taking the controller out of his hands. Jaemin, you recognized, sets it down on the center table. “Let’s go.”

“But I just sat back down,” Donghyuck complained.

This time, Jeno is the one who gives him a look. He knows not to cross him, so he purses his lips and gets off the couch. On their way out, the three spared you a few greetings. Some smiled (Donghyuck with a playful grin, Jaemin with a friendly one) while the other didn’t hide their disapproval as he walked past you (Renjun, controller robbed). You shrug it off.

When they finally disappear down the stairwell, you took your first step in.

“You didn’t need to ask them to leave,” you said when you shut the door behind you.

Jeno kept his eyes on you, “As if you’d say a thing if they were here.” He chuckled and you looked down—he was right. You couldn’t even say anything to him alone. How much more if he had company? “Why the sudden visit?” he asked.

His question hung in the air for some time. First, because you were busy taking in the surroundings. His apartment’s base color was white with accents of grey and black which contrasted AM’s dark gloomy atmosphere downstairs. It was twice as large as your apartment and you even shared yours with 4 other people. Second, you didn’t know what to say. Gone were all the dialogues you had planned. For a moment, you even forgot why you were there in the first place. 

You stood there in awkward silence, clutching your coat tighter even when it wasn’t that cold in his apartment. You were nervous and conscious and seeing Jeno staring at you from a few feet away made it worse. You can feel him growing more impatient by the second. In the back of your head you could hear him say, ‘If you have nothing good to say, stop wasting my time.’ It was embarrassing in itself. Even more so when he made his friends leave just to accommodate you. You remember Renjun’s death glare in the back of your mind.

You had to start somewhere. All of this started somewhere.

“About that night,” you said but you trailed off eventually.

The confrontation scene was a lot better in your head. It was easier to plan out than to carry out. In your mind, it was smart and quick-witted. Out loud, you sounded awfully ridiculous. Heck, you couldn’t even get past the first three words.

Jeno scoffed, “What? Are you gonna tell me that night was a mistake and we should just forget about it?” he paused, catching the moment you looked up to meet his gaze. “Hmm?”

Your mind short-circuits at his reply, flinching, the same way it would whenever you were up on a podium of a presentation. But there’s only one pair of eyes staring at you and yet somehow it was enough to strike the fear a hundred would. They were Jeno’s and he stared at you like you were see through, and no amount of effort to cover up would keep you hidden from him. You part your lips to say nothing, your words falling short at the back of your throat—they don’t even hang on the tip of your tongue. 

“Because clearly you haven’t.”

Finally, he looked away. You wanted to sigh in relief but the room was quiet enough that he’d hear a pindrop. Even then, with what little pride you had to spare, you didn’t want him to see just how much leverage he had over you, to see how his sly tactics worked. You tried to keep yourself together, putting up a strong front with the lack of eye contact. “Not with you popping in and out of my life every now and then. What’s up with that?”

He rose off the couch. His upper body was devoid of any clothing so when he stretched from sitting too long, it was hard to keep your eyes off of him. He was lean but he kept his body in condition. He winded his shoulders, flexing the muscles on his back and on his upper arm. You looked away when he turned. 

“So you noticed?” he asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice and you feel your cheeks heat up. He caught you. “Don’t be too conscious, you’re free to look. Promo’s exclusive to you.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention elsewhere. “Fuckboy,” you uttered under your breath. “Who wouldn’t notice?”

“You seemed like you didn’t,” he answered, cleaning up the mess the boys left behind. “Ignoring me when everyone else was looking.”

The teasing was relentless but you were growing impatient too. “I don’t have time for this, Jeno. What the hell do you want?”

“You.”

When you spun around he was leaning against the kitchen counter, loading the plates into the dishwasher beneath it. He still had a smirk plastered on his lips and it frustrated you. He countered every question you had with words that would turn the tables on you. You came here to do the questioning but it felt more like you were on the hot seat. You were wandering in uncharted waters like a lost boat in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle. You were aware of the danger but you were letting your curiosity get the better of you. Like walking a tightrope with unstable harnesses, like a moth drawn to flickering candle light. 

“I’m serious,” you dismissed him.

“So am I.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Jeno laughed like it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. “And you like me anyway.”

You bit your lip, glad you had your back turned to him or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were getting. “What makes you so sure?”

“The fact that you’re here in my room confronting me about it,” he answered. “If I didn’t have any sort of effect on you, you wouldn’t be here at all.”

“My friends made me do this,” you defended yourself.

“But your friends would never make you do something you didn’t want to do.”

The tables have definitely turned now and you didn’t like it. You lost the upperhand, or maybe you never had it in the first place. It was as if he knew all your cards from the start and he took the liberty to excruciatingly drag out the part where he tells you that he’d known everything. 

You turned, defeated and embarrassed that you’ve completely fallen into his trap. “Why are you doing this?”

“This?” he asked, his annoying smirk still on his lips. “You’re in my apartment.”

“This, whole thing!” you burst out, throwing your arms in the air in exasperation. “Why did you start acting differently after the kiss? What’s with all the mixed signals? I just came here to ask you why you’re doing all the shit you’re doing because it’s so fucking confusing. Like do you fucking like me or not?”

The million-dollar question slips out of your tongue faster than you can even register it. You’re breathless when you stop talking and you only realize how loud you were talking when the apartment falls silent again. 

Across the room, Jeno stashes the last of the glass plates into the dishwasher before kicking the metal door closed. He leaned against the counter with his hands on top to support his upper body. “So you remembered that we kissed?”

It was the last straw for you. You rolled your eyes, “You know what, forget it.” You spun on your heel, marching back the way you came. A part of you wanted to remain calm and pester him until you got the answers you came for. But you were fuming with embarrassment. You wanted to slap yourself for even thinking that maybe all those gestures meant something. It obviously didn’t. In fact, you wondered why you never thought that he could’ve done that to a hundred other girls before you. 

Stupid.

You reach the door in seconds, grabbing the metal doorknob to swing it open. It opens by a few centimeters before it’s slammed back shut. The knob slips out of your grasp, so you let your arm fall to your side instead of letting it hang awkwardly in midair. 

You could feel Jeno behind you, his breath fanning your face ever so slightly. He had one hand pressed against the door. 

“Who said you were going anywhere?” he asked.

You turned around to face him, leaning against the door so you’d put some space between the both of you. You tilted your head so you’d manage to look him in the eye, “You wouldn’t answer my questions. What’s the point of staying here?”

Jeno looked down at you. His eyes shifted every now and then as if he were studying your features. You couldn’t help but feel conscious, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from either. You found it hard to level your breathing with the proximity. This was the closest he’d ever been since the night you kissed him. 

Your cheeks flared up when his skin brushed yours lightly. “Fine, I’ll answer. But answer mine.” He waited for you to nod before he continued. “You remembered that we kissed?”

You remember the feeling of his lips on yours even in your drunken haze. His chapped lips, the scent of burnt cigarettes and the accidental teeth clashing. You would’ve dropped anything to let that night go the way you had originally planned it to. “Yeah.”

Jeno leaned closer and you finally broke eye contact. Your eyes trailed from his lips down to his jawline all the way down to his bare torso. Seeing you flustered made him amused, his lips forming a playful smirk again. He lifts his other hand, running the back of his palm down the side of your face. He traces your jaw with one finger before resting it beneath your chin. He tilts your head up so you’d stare up at him again. 

“Do you know that I want a do-over of that night?” he whispered, his voice raspy and low. He stared at you with hooded lids and your heartbeat spikes. The pit of your stomach stirs as you feel your own arousal begin to form. Every mental alarm system you set for yourself to avoid situations like these were blaring. You shouldn’t be here, you should be home. You shouldn’t be turned on by sweet lies.

Yet here you were. You balled your fists to suppress the last bits of your self control. Your fingers were tingling with the need to run them up his bare chest and down his muscled arms. You longed for his touch for way too long to hold back now. You wanted to feel his lips on yours again. You wanted to know what you missed out on.

What was there to lose? Your life was going haywire anyway already. Might as well make the most of it now.

Your response comes before you can ponder too much about it. “And you think I don’t?”

It was his turn to be taken off guard. You see the surprise in his eyes for a moment before they’re clouded again. He wasn’t looking into your eyes anymore.

And like the first time it happened, you pressed your lips on his. This time he doesn’t push you away. It’s when both his hands make their way to the sides of your neck that your lips finally part. He takes the chance to slip his tongue in. The kiss is sloppy and messy, with you just letting him take control. Then he pulls away to let you breathe, but the night was young and he was far from done with you. 

Your back hits the back of the door when he kisses you again, his leg slightly forward and wedged between both of yours—parting them slightly. Your hands finally find their way to his body, running them up his chest and feeling the outline of his muscles on your fingertips. You felt Jeno lose his balance when you pulled him closer, pressing deeper into the kiss and groaning. His thigh brushes you where you’re sensitive. Only then do you feel how aroused you were and you mutter a silent prayer he doesn’t prey on the knowledge of it. 

But you could already feel him smirking into the kiss, tensing the muscles on his thigh on purpose and making you wobble where you stood. Your legs closed on instinct, but it only made you more pathetic than you’d originally let on.

His hands clutch your coat, pulling it off your body before tossing it aside. His hands run down the side of your body, settling on the curve of your waist to pull you closer. As if you could get any closer than you already were. But no, he pushes you down, and electricity courses across your skin as you grind on his thigh. A moan escapes your lips only for him to catch it before he begins nipping at the skin on your neck.  

“Something wrong?” he asked, licking his lips after leaving his first few marks on your neck. 

Your own hooded, droopy eyes told him everything. He knew better than to let you walk with how weak your legs were. 

“Hop on,” he says and you oblige, wrapping your legs around his lower torso. Your dress lifts and reveals the rest of your thigh that had been hidden earlier. He ran his hand up your thighs, supporting your weight as he carried you somewhere more comfortable. You find yourself burying your face in the crook of his neck, sucking on the skin and leaving your own marks behind. He tilts his head to give you more room and hums—the vibrations reverberating just enough that you feel it on your lips. 

When you reach his bedroom, he locks the door behind him. He sets you down a foot away from the edge of the bed. You wobble for a bit before feeling the strength return to your legs. Jeno turned his head suddenly, capturing your lips again. Your head tilts back at the sudden pressure but his hand makes it to the back of your neck again. 

You take a step forward and his legs hit the edge of the bed, making him fall onto the mattress behind him. He takes one hand off you to support himself, keeping himself in an upright sitting position. His other hand snakes around your waist as you climb unto him. Your legs were on either side of him—resting on the mattress, while you took your place on his lap.

It’s your turn to smirk when you feel his own struggle beneath you. He groans into the kiss when your clothed mound brushes against his bulge. He pulls away and leans back, taking a moment to admire the view in front of him. You still had your arms hooked around his neck and you looked at him back. There’s a smear of lipstick right where your smirk ended. 

Jeno unwinds his arm around your waist to reach for your face, brushing his thumb against the skin where the smear was before he rests it over your lips. You grab his arm, keeping his hand where it is when he tries to retract it. He presses down on your bottom lip, marveling at how soft and plump they are. Your lips part at his touch, his thumb disappearing behind your lips as you suck on it.

You shut your eyes, feigning innocence even when you feel him pulse beneath you and it only heightens your own arousal. You bob your head once, letting his finger go only to catch him looking at you—hypnotized. Feeling cheeky, you kiss his thumb to catch his attention. It works and his eyes finally meet yours. 

“You should’ve said you wanted me this bad,” he says ironically, staring at you with hooded eyes.

You raised a brow, “I’m the one who wanted you? I wasn’t the one trying to get your attention.”

“I wasn’t the one who drunkenly kissed you,” Jeno rebuts.

“As you said, I was drunk.”

“Drunken actions are sober thoughts.”

You rolled your eyes before staring down at him again. You run a hand through his hair again before resting it on his shoulder. Pushing down, you lift yourself off his thighs. “Are we really going to argue about this? Don’t you have other problems?” you asked, tilting your head before lowering yourself on him again. He heaves a deep breath in and you catch his eyes rolling back for a moment before he stares at his clothed manhood beneath you. You follow his gaze and see the results of your antics. “Need some help with that?”

Jeno meets your eyes and gives you a wordless nod. 

You smile, hopping off the bed. You slip between his legs, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He watches you take your place, tensing when he feels your hand run up his thigh. Your hand doesn’t waste the opportunity to rub him through the material.

Jeno clicks his tongue, “Golden girl’s a fucking tease? That’d make a headline.” 

You only replied with a smile, flattered at the side comment. Your hands reach the garter of his sweatpants. Hooking it with two fingers each hand, you drag the material down all the way to his ankles along with his boxers. His member stood tall and erect on his lower abdomen. He wraps a hand around it, moving his hand slowly up and down. White substance leaked through his slit, the beautiful result of your endless teasing from earlier. The sight of it makes your own arousal pool unto your underwear, you worry the whole undergarment is too soiled now to be used later on your way home. 

You stifle a laugh and he raises an eyebrow, “Proud?”

You shrug playfully, “Maybe.”

“Now, suck it,” he says nonchalantly which makes you perk up your own brow.

“What if I don’t want to?” you ask, resting your arms on either leg of his. 

He rubbed his thumb against the slit of his shaft’s head, smearing it with pre-cum which he later brushed on your lip—hinting at the teasing you did earlier. “Sure, you don’t. When he puts his hand away, you lick your lower lip. The substance is salty on your tongue and there’s more of it still leaking out of his member. There will be strings of it if you do him good.

You move closer, lining your face up with the head. Your eyes meet when you look up to see how he looked from where you were. It’s now your hand wrapped around his pulsing member. His pre-cum alone is enough to lubricate your palm, making it easier for you to move your hand up and down. A groan escapes his lips when you run your own thumb on his slit, pressing down on his most sensitive area. 

You lap your tongue against the side of his shaft, tasting more of the white substance on your tongue and it makes your mouth water. You reach the tip of his head and he watches eagerly as you part your lips to take him in. His head reels back and a low groan escapes his mouth as you close around him. You feel him at the back of your throat and when you’re close to gagging you pull yourself up, sucking him all the way up with your mouth vacuumed. When your throat recovers, you take him in again, repeating the process while slowly picking up your own momentum. 

Jeno’s hand reaches over to you, collecting strands of your hair that fell off your shoulder whenever you lowered your mouth. You mistake it as a sweet gesture—an act of kindness in the midst of the heat—until he gathers all the hair up behind your head to use it as a grip. 

He utters your name—his voice coming in the form of a raspy, breathless whisper. You hum in response, slowing down to hear him out. His hand rests idly on top of your head. “If it’s too much let me know.”

You manage to give him a nod and brace yourself for immense hair tugging and relentless pushing on the back of your head so you’ll take his dick faster. But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he tugs once on your hair and keeps you in place—your mouth a mere centimeter away from the end of his dick.  Jeno thrusts into your mouth without warning. The tip hits the back of your throat making you gag but it’s gone before your throat can tighten. 

“Baby,” he calls out. When you don’t look up immediately, he reaches for your face. His touch is warm against your cool skin. “Can you take it? If you can’t then we’ll stop.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” you answered.

His grip on your hair tightens again but he lets you take him in for a few sucks before he’s thrusting up to meet you every time you bobbed your head. Your fingernails dig into his thighs as he picks up the pace. You feel yourself gagging but your mind is too clouded with Jeno’s groans as his orgasm nears. You feel his thighs begin to shake beneath you, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy. He barely gives you any time to breathe anymore but you understand his desperation to release. He thrusts one last time to shoot his load deep in your throat, pushing your head down so you’ll take all of it. But there’s only so much you can take. 

The sticky substance drips off the side of your mouth and onto your chest and you look up at Jeno imploringly. But he isn’t looking at you, he had his head leaned back as he relished in his release. His grip on your hair loosens at last and you feel your neck relax. You finally swallow to give your mouth a bit more room before proceeding to suck him again until his senses are back to normal again.

He was still panting when he was made aware of your presence again. You were still licking the sides of his shaft when he tried to get your attention. He tugged you upward when your lips finally left his still-erect member. 

“You did so well,” he slurs, barely comprehensible. 

The remark you were about the reply is muffled when he pulls you down to kiss you. You nearly fall onto his lap again but you’re able to hold yourself upright. Instead, he guides you onto the mattress. He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist and his other hand on the back of your head, as he lets you fall onto the sheets beside him. He doesn’t break the kiss, not even when your places are flipped. 

You were lying on the sheets, back arched until Jeno decided to pull his arm away. You were caged by him—lying between his legs with his hands on either side of the bed beside you. You kept your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss. 

Jeno’s hands find their way to your body. Your breasts fit snugly in his hands, one for each one. He gives them a squeeze, earning a muffled moan from you. He removes your arms from the back of his neck so he could slip the fabric from your off-shoulder dress off. When he successfully does so, he tugs down on the remaining cloth covering your chest. Your dress is left to rest on your abdomen.

He only breaks the kiss when he starts to move lower. He begins to nip at the skin by your jawline, down your neck, leading down to your collarbones. When his lips finally reach your breasts, he takes his sweet time to play. He takes one in his mouth and the other in his palm. Your back arches off the bed when his tongue flicks your nipple, while his other hand draws circles around the other. The sensation sends goosebumps all over your skin. You feel your arousal drip, you were starting to think you’ve started to stain the sheets now too. 

You yearn for contact when his lips leave your body entirely. You feel his hands run down the side of your waist and then your hip. They end up on the ends of your dress and he brings the fabric up, exposing the rest of your thighs that were kept hidden. He catches sight of the growing stain on the thin fabric.

His fingers wander over to where your crotch is. “How long have you been holding this in, hmm?” he asked, pressing his hand down on your folds before rubbing you through the fabric. 

You jolt on contact, already feeling sensitive from earlier events. You know Jeno doesn’t plan on stopping your agony any time sooner, not with all the teasing you’ve done earlier. A moan escapes your lips when he starts drawing circles around your nub and Jeno would be lying if he said he didn’t like the sound of it. The cloth rubbing against you was only further soiled by his actions. 

The fabric was drenched where he touched it and the thrill of knowing he was the one responsible for the mess you’ve made just made him more excited—evident in the throbbing of his cock even when he’d just released in your mouth.

Your breathing becomes uneven as he stimulates you even more. You find yourself grabbing onto Jeno’s arms, your back arching off the mattress every time he rubbed a bit harder. Your hips move to match his movements, thrusting up to meet him everytime he brings his fingers down further. 

“You like that don’t you?” he asked, feeling you throb in his palm. 

You were in too much pleasure to even manage to say a single ‘yes’ without moaning. You mumble an ‘mhm’ between breaths in reply. 

“Mhm?” he echoes, setting the fabric aside and swiping two fingers through your wet folds. His fingers easily slip through, coated in the substance that’s been gushing out of you since this heated thing started. He continued making circles around your nub—the direct contact making you more dizzy than earlier.

“Jeno.” His name leaves your lips as a moan.

He looks up and one look at you makes the thoughts in his head swirl. You gripped his arms tighter every time he rubbed faster. Your teeth kept your bottom lip clipped between them as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

He lifts himself off of you, moving back until his face was right before your core. His hot breath fanned your folds, sending a wave of goosebumps up your body. His lips meet yours. Your breathing hitches on your throat, becoming more and more uneven as his tongue flattens and licks up every bit of your arousal. 

“Jeno, please,” you beg as you tried your best not to rub yourself on his open mouth.

“Please what?” he asks, but you don’t get to answer because he licks the most sensitive part of you and your mind goes blank.

He had one finger parting your folds enough to make room for his tongue. Something tells you this wasn’t his first time. Nobody wouldn’t have known that all thrusts and no play wasn’t the way to go with women. His tongue sucks on the skin by your bundle of folds sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. His antics make it hard for you to even have time to breathe. 

Your orgasm draws closer with every flick of his tongue against your bud. He notices the way your breathing rushes. Your mouth hangs open, your back arched off the mattress and your hips thrust up but Jeno holds you down. 

“Fuck. I’m close.”

He doesn’t answer just licking and sucking just like you had been when you were the one between his legs. Your legs begin to shake as you feel your orgasm ripping through you—a lot more satisfying than usual due to the lengthy build up. Your legs close due to the overstimulation when Jeno doesn’t stop, keeping his face caged between your thighs. He pulls away, gripping your left thigh and kissing it. Your senses were still muffled from your release but you can see his lips moving as if he were saying sweet things.

His hand traces your thigh before he rests it on your mound—red from the simulation and throbbing after your release. He parts your folds with his fingers before pushing two digits into your hole.

Your legs go slack, parting when he pushes further into you. When he pulls out, the white substance from your release follows—dripping down your lips and unto the sheets beneath you. He basks in the sight and the mess he’d made of you.

Jeno comes up to meet you again, wedged between your legs and his member brushing against your thigh as he moves. He turned your head so you’d face him again. He leans down to kiss you, the taste of your own arousal still present on his lips.

The kiss is passionate as opposed to every lust-driven thing that happened prior to it. There is no rash teeth-clashing, just feeling his lips on yours and the occasional slip of his tongue into the area of your mouth. Your limbs hook around him, drawing him closer. The kiss lasts for a while until he notices that you were both running out of air.

He pulls away, looking down at you with drowsy eyes. “I’ve loved you long before you even noticed.”

You fight the urge to make a clever remark—that what you had between you was nothing but an illusion in his head brought about by the hormones triggered while in bed. But you bite your tongue and don’t continue. “If you do, don’t let this night be a night I’ll forget easily, hmm?”

Jeno smirks, reaching for the drawer of his bedside table. His hand scrambles through it for a while until he finds what he was looking for. The way he drew the packet confidently out of its box makes you chuckle.

“Okay, baby. But I don’t want any additional problems.” He brings the packet to his mouth, ripping the wrapper with his teeth before pulling the content out.

“Baby?” you ask, watching him put the condom on himself.

“I’ve been calling you that all night.”

“I like it.”

“Then that’s great. You should get used to it,” he says. Then he aligned himself at your entrance, rubbing his member between your two folds before pushing his tip in. You watch his shaft disappear into you and you feel him inside. He stretches you but he doesn’t move until you've gotten used to his size. 

“Why’s my baby clenching all around me? Are you that desperate to be fucked?”

His words make you clench even more, which was pathetic for you and amusing for him. No matter how much you wanted to play the brat, your body completely betrayed you.

“Fuck no,” you answered but as you expected, Jeno doesn’t buy it.

“Mhm,” he says, pulling out halfway before pushing himself back into you. 

Your eyes flutter shut, feeling the coming and waning pain of the stretch inside of you as Jeno begins thrusting into you. He starts slow, leaning forward so he could rest on top of you. His hand finds your face and he’s kissing you again—soft, passionate and almost loving. You’re unsure if what you were feeling inside was the build-up of your next orgasm or the butterflies flying about.

He adjusts himself, pushing you up so he could have a better angle when thrusting into you. You moan into the kiss as he reaches untouched spots inside you. His mouth leaves your lips again, sucking on the skin by your jawline all the way down to your neck. The combined sensation of his lips on your skin and his cock deep in you makes you even more sensitive. A moan escapes your lips every time he thrusted in and it just makes him more feral. 

He picks up the pace, unhooking your arms from his neck so he could pin them on either side of you. The view makes his mouth water. Your mouth hung open as you moaned his name—loud enough that it bounces off the bedroom walls. Your breasts bounced with every thrust he did. All around you, the room smelt like sweet aroma of sex with the echo of skin against skin muffled by the exchange of grunts and moans.

Jeno lets your hands go and you clutch on to the sheets. He had one hand massaging your breast and the other rubbing his thumb against your nub . 

“Jeno,” you breathed out, peering your eyes open for a moment before they flutter shut again as your orgasm drew closer.

“I know,” he pants as his thrusts quicken, “me too.”

The familiar feeling wells in the pit of your stomach once again—like knots tightening with every thrust into you. Toes curling. Heart pounding. Breath, too short and sporadic.

Then it all loosens. 

Your mind is the first to register your climax and you let the post-orgasmic feeling of bliss wash over you. Jeno fucks you through it, still thrusting at an alarming speed just so he could catch his own release. He pulls out before it happens, sheathing his cock of the plastic that was once wrapped around it. The hot strings of white spurt out of his slit and onto your dress. 

For the second time, you feel your juices spill out of you. You unhook your legs and let them fall unto the mattress, having little to no strength to keep them upright. You were still catching your breath when Jeno shuffled around you.

“_____,” he calls out to you.

You open one eye with all the strength you can muster but your eyelid already threatens to fall back shut. 

Jeno smiles innocently, almost as if nothing had happened just a mere few moments ago. “Tired now, are we?” he asked and you manage to give him a lazy nod in response. He pushed himself off the bed, slipping into his boxers and sweatpants again before standing fully at the edge of his bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You’re too tired to even reply. You were slipping in and out of consciousness. You could hear him cross the room, hear the water running, feel him dip the mattress around you. He was cleaning up the mess you’ve both made—his release on your dress and yours on the sheets. 

“Sorry,” you utter as he takes off your soiled underwear while you lay immobile. 

He shakes his head, “It’s alright, it’s on me for making you cum this hard.”

You raise one of your eyelids so you could lock your target. You kick him with whatever strength you had left in you before instantly regretting it when you start to feel pain in your lower stomach. You wince, your pain becoming evident on your expression for Jeno to see and he only laughs. 

“Can you sit up for me?” 

You nodded in response but your body didn’t follow. Jeno chuckles at the sight and offers his hands to pull you up. You take them. Even with the extra help, you still struggled to stay upright. He looks down at you—drowsy eyes, heated cheeks and pouty lips, trying desperately to stay awake. He leans down to kiss your forehead, reaching around you so he could tug at the ends of your dress.

“Arms up,” he mumbles and you oblige. He pulls the fabric up and over your head before setting it aside. He then hooks his arms beneath your knees, lifting you off the bed. He heads to the bathroom, kicking the door open. The room is spacious enough that he doesn’t struggle maneuvering around even while carrying you. “It’s warm,” Jeno whispers before setting you down in the tub.

The water was indeed warm when it wrapped around you—soothing and relaxing. You curl up, wrapping your arms around your knees and letting your head rest on top of it. Shortly after, Jeno joins you. He sits at the other end of the tub, his legs stretched beside you. He leaned back against the rim of the tub, arms resting on either side.

“What now?” you ask, turning your head so you’re facing Jeno. 

He raises a brow, “What ‘what now’?”

You stare at him, struggling to find the right words to use in explaining what was bugging you. “Are you ever curious with what lies ahead? Like ahead of this day, ahead of this?”

“No,” Jeno cuts you off. “Unlike you, I don’t have my entire life planned out. I live day to day not knowing where I’ll be at the end of it. Why’d you ask?” His eyes meet yours and you look away, keeping your mouth shut. He pursed his lips, “Did my presence disrupt your perfectly planned life?”

A chuckle escapes your lips, “To be honest, sort of.”

For a fleeting moment, you see him frown. He immediately regains his composure, masking himself in his cocky attitude once again, “We can always pretend none of this ever happened. But I’m not sure if you want that.” His eyes darted around the bathroom just to avoid yours. “I’m sure I don’t,” he mumbles under his breath, but you don’t catch it.

“I told you to give me a night I won’t forget and you tell me we could pretend none of this ever happened?” 

“I don’t want to be the reason your life is thrown off track, babe,” he answers, finally catching your eyes and staring right back at you. “But,” he continues, “I’ll stick around only if you still want me to. So, do you?”

The question hangs in the air between you. If you hadn’t felt anything at all and only ever viewed him as bothersome, you would’ve said no right away. If you were merely here to confront him, you wouldn’t have let things get this far. But here you were, sitting naked in the tub across Jeno as you watched the boy’s eyes stare right into yours.

You were caught in the web of your own decisions and the slip-ups of your suppressed emotions. Your life was spinning further out of your control with every second you spent with him. He was everything you vowed to avoid in life—spontaneous, unpredictable and uncontrollable. Yet he gives you the opportunity to keep him in your life or not.

Having him around meant there were more nights like these; all of which were unaccounted for in your plan. Having him around meant having additional unwanted emotions; love, lust, jealousy. You never liked change, and having him around goes everything you’ve ever planned for.

But you think back on what he’d said earlier, about living life on a day to day basis without worrying too much about what the future held. It wasn’t certain anyway.

I’ll stick around only if you want me to. So, do you?

You do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sound anymore submissive than you already were in his eyes.

You roll your eyes, “I can’t believe you’re asking me this after we fucked.”

The amused laugh that escapes Jeno’s lips makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter about. You’re unsure if it was because of the nervousness of trying out something with no certainty or you just liked hearing him laugh. “So, is there a next time?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, throwing the last bits of your caution into the wind as you take the leap of fate, “you tell me.”

© neo-shitty, 2021

[shinescape]

note: don't come at me for this. my state of mind decides what chaos to bring and this is what it is now.

Vanilla

You looked around the empty room as you shifted from one spot to the other, unsure of where to wait for your boyfriend. This wasn’t your first visit to the company building but it was the first time you stepped foot into the practice room. 

Your hands couldn't’ stop fumbling with each other as you leaned back on the wall. Yunho had a schedule which he informed you beforehand and that you told him that it was fine to reschedule the meet up but he insisted that you meet that day. 

So, there you were, waiting awkwardly. “Is it okay to even wait here?” Right at that moment the door burst open and the figure froze by the door and looked at you. It was Mingi. He was frowning - or at least that’s what you think from his expression. You lifted your lips upwards and nodded towards him. 

His face softened a bit as he walked over to where you were. “Why are you standing, there’s chairs around here.” You’ve met everyone before but this would be the first time you talked one on one with Yunho’s group members.

And out of everyone, Mingi kind of intimidates you. He wasn’t mean or anything, it’s just how he presents himself and his deep voice doesn’t help ease the nervousness bubbling in the pit of your stomach. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind standing.” Mingi nodded and stepped away to the mirrored walls. For once you wished you knew what he was thinking. What he thought about you. Thoughts about you dating his best friend. You continued to lean on the wall as you took glances at him. He was warming up and then it struck on you that he was most likely going to be practising. As you made your way to the door, he voiced out.

“You’re waiting for Yunho right?” 

“I can leave-” 

“Just stay here. Yunho would think I kicked you out if you leave.” 

He gave a lopsided smile through the mirror before going back to stretching his arms. None of you said another word to each other. As he practised, you would occasionally checked your phone for any messages from your boyfriend. Even with the already loud music in the enclosed area, the loud ping from your phone caught Mingi’s attention. 

You apologised to him before reading the new message you just received. Unknowing to you, Mingi watched at how your smile widened and your fingers rapidly tapping out a reply to the sender which was most likely his best friend. He didn’t know why he felt jealousy building up in him as he made his way towards you. Yunho or you? You looked up to him and the smile was still plastered on. 

“Yunho is on his way here.” You excitedly told him.

“I see…” He wasn't giving back the same energy but you obviously didn't notice it.

Mingi watched as you suddenly rummaged through your bag in a rushed manner. “What are you looking for?” 

“My perfume. I remembered putting it in here...found it!” A pocket sized bottle was in your hand then. He watched as you sprayed some on your inner wrists and capped the bottle back. Maybe the thought of your boyfriend finishing his work and coming over to you boosts your confidence to talk to Mingi. 

“It’s vanilla scented, I’m not sure if Yunho will like it.” Your eyes widened before continuing. “Will he even notice it?” As you took a whiff of the perfume, Mingi all of a sudden grab the glass bottle from your hand as the other tilted your chin up.

You held in your breath out of shock at his sudden action. Your eyes wandered to his face, trying to figure out what goes on in his mind. Too focused on the man in front of you, the mist coming from the perfume startled you back to reality. The warm scent becoming more prominent than before.

“That should do the trick.” His fingers long gone from your chin as he dropped the perfume into your bag. “You should know by now how he likes to snuggle in your neck like his life depends on it.” It got you wondering if the you he meant was directed towards you solely or his members as well.

Your eyes glued on his face as he backed away when Yunho’s voice could be heard in the room. While you tried to process what had happened, your boyfriend threw himself to you, engulfing you in a hug. 

“Baby, sorry I made you wait.”

"It's okay."

Slowly you wrapped your arms around him, head turning to the side as your thoughts stray to his best friend. Yunho mumbled something under his breath as he continued to hug you as if the other person wasn’t there in the room. “You smell nice. Is this a new perfume?” At his words, your eyes locked with the other through the mirror.  

[sepia-mahogany]

Prompt: hearing about xuanwus defeat, madam jin and jin zixuan come to lotus pier and overhear madam yu saying wei wuxian should have let the 'sect heirs die', lwj who's recovering also overhears, the 3 get first hand experience of jiang household situation and decide fk this and take wwx out of there, its a prompt from vrishchikawrites blog (a wonderful write!) So maybe ask permission?

From the prompt on @vrishchikawrites

Jin Zixuan could not forget the young man, the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, who, despite his previous (petty) grievances with, had stepped up when everyone else had been frozen on the spot, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get his blood stained image out of his mind. Which had led to this discussion.

“What? No! I forbid it.” his father responded when he asked for sending reinforcements to Jiang Sect, while he understood with Cloud Recesses burnt down, and Nie under attack, either Yunmeng Jiang or Lanling Jin were next on the table, and despite having well equipped men, with the best of weapons, his father refused to extend help. 

Refused to stand against those who sought to harm his son, ‘in situations like these, know when to step back’ he had said, and Jin Zixuan could feel shame creeping up under his skin, outnumbered and clearly at losing stakes, he hadn’t hesitated to save him, and what would that make him if he forgot the debt so clearly owed? To live the lavish life of a coward..! He could see his mother fuming from where she stood, and closed his eyes to suppress his bitter thoughts, he wanted to do something, anything to help.

And suddenly, anger melted from her face and that smile crept up her face and he felt a chill down his spine, a sense of foreboding overcame him, he could see his father tense as well. “Of course, the Jin Sect sides with them.” she spoke, venom dripping off her every word. “Nothing wrong if the Sect Leader’s wife wants the marriage renewed?” a pit formed in his stomach, he did not want to marry a woman he barely knew, but using this opportunity, they could, in a sense create a bond, stronger than of just two sworn sisters.

However, “Madam Jin meets up with her sworn sister, Madam of Jiang Sect, just as Qishan Wen begins its attacks?” the war has been declared, how would it seem if the two sect Madams, and the Sect heirs are meeting, with or without the Sect Leader? “The risks are completely unneeded, what do we gain from this?” his mother glared at his father, who pointedly ignored her, Jin Zixuan exhaled, thinking things over.

As much as he disliked the engagement, he knew she would not bring it up, unless the situation, as dire as it was, needed it, this bond could provide future aid to one another should the need arise, so Jin Zixuan kept his disagreements to himself, because he knew she wouldn’t force him, not with the concerns of a  cold loveless marriage like his parents, he knew she was using it as a cover to aid her sworn sister.

An opportunity, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then remembered how the Second Jade, Lan Wangji had stood shoulder to shoulder with him,  and Wei Wuxian, Head Disciple, had stepped up to save them. 

Jin Zixuan exhaled, and made a decision, muttering out a half-hearted excuse, he left them on their own, and later into the night, he approached his mother.

--------

The boat landed steadily, unnoticed in the middle of the night, his mother had won the final say in the matter, of course with the reluctant agreement of remaining disguised as just another trade ship, the serene view would have been calming, had his nerves not have been high strung from adrenaline, small sacrifices, he could of course find a way to break off the engagement in a future of more peaceful times.

Jin Zixuan climbed out the boat first, followed calmly by his mother, the disguises were near perfect, for the disciples around the brightly lit place to look curious, but not alarmed. One, he recognised seeing a few times at Cloud Recesses, came near them with a nervous smile. “We offer you our sincerest apologies but...we’d appreciate it if travellers could avoid an audience with the Sect Leader?” 

The disguises were perfect then, for they had been mistaken as travellers that would go to and fro from Yunmeng Jiang Sect, his mother sniffed and looked at the disciple sternly “We are not here for the Sect Leader, but the Violet Spider, we have an important message for them.” Jin Zixuan had noticed before but now it had become more apparent as the disciples shifted around, something was off, it dampened his enthusiasm and the rush he had felt earlier, instead concern filled him, had something happened to Wei Wuxian?

His mother held out a token, the disciple’s eyes widened and he bowed in respect, “I assume this would be enough?” Madam Jin said curtly, and the disciple nodded, though tensely. “This one will escort you to the guest chambers” 

The curious gazes had not been moved, as they moved inside, step by step, down the corridor they went, as the muffled voices became more distinguishable, all 3 of them froze when they heard, unmistakably the Jiang Sect Heir’s voice. “-You shouldn’t have played the hero and you shouldn’t have cared for such a hell of a thing. If in the beginning you hadn’t….” 

Jin Zixuan felt a cold pit forming in his stomach, surely he must be mistaken, but seeing the expression twisting  on his mothers face, he could assume he was not, in fact, misunderstanding what Jiang Wanyin was implying. 

The disciple bowed quickly, slightly panicked “If you’d follow me-” Madam Jin pointed at him and he immediately shut up, head bowed, just as the Jiang Sect Leader reprimanded “Jiang Cheng.” Silence followed. “Do you know in which ways what you just have said is not appropriate?” was followed by a glum “Yes.”

Even if slightly, Jin Zixuan relaxed, his mother’s expression lightening into a frown, ‘at least someone is self-aware’ Madam Jin thought. “He’s just angry and speaking without care” another voice added, Jin Zixuan perked up, Wei Wuxian! So he was alright, he felt relieved. Madam Jin continued to frown, Wei Wuxian was clearly trying to lessen the pressure off of the Jiang heir. 

Another harsh voice cut through them all “Yes, he doesn’t understand but what does it matter, as long as Wei Ying understands!?” rang out her voice, Madam Jin’s lips pursed into a line, of what her son had just said, that was what she was focusing on?

 “‘To attempt at the impossible’ is exactly how he is, isn’t it? Fooling around even though he knew it’d bring trouble to his sect!?” Jin Zixuan sneaked a look at his mother to see her eyes cold, her fist clenched tightly, he was aware they shouldn’t be hearing this, but this? It wasn’t what they expected at all, he was frozen in place, what in the world was he hearing?

Madam Jin’s thoughts matched her appearance, for once she felt less than charitable towards Yu Ziyuan, and more and more like a fool, here she was, risking her and her son’s safety, her sects safety, for a woman who couldn't care less about her son’s life, but was also wilfully blinding herself to the war right on the horizon, ‘No’ she thought to herself, ‘it was I who was truly blind’

And it was the boy she heard being called ‘Fengmian’s bastard’ or ‘son of a servant’ who had saved her son's life instead, she bit back the bitter chuckle that threatened to escape her, truly, what a fool she was, to be caught in the violet spiders web.

She looked at her son, whose face clouded over the more he heard, she grabbed his arm tightly, if nothing else then to prevent him from barging inside, with Jiang Fengmian’s favor, she was sure that they didn’t need to interfere, until, “My lady, what are you doing here?” she held back her disbelief, her son on the other hand, inhaled sharply.

This was what he was focusing on? Not the insults to his bas- to his ward? To his sect’s entire foundation? It would seem she was truly mistaken, in her and Yu Ziyuan sharing their miseries, entirely wrong about her character, and who was still throwing around callous words for the sake of it, for what else? If not her own cruelty?

"What am I doing here? What a joke that I am asked of such a thing! Sect Leader Jiang, do you still remember that I'm also the leader of Lotus Pier? Do you still remember that every inch of the earth here is my territory? Do you still remember, between the one lying there and the one standing there, which one is your son?" Disbelief and disgust couldn’t even begin to describe what Madam Jin was feeling, the Sect Leader’s response,  however, “I do remember.” Enhanced those to the heights she didn't even know she was capable of feeling.

And so stood the enraged Madam of Jin Sect, the horrified Jin heir and one ashamed disciple whose head could bow no lower, but that was nothing compared to what was said next “You do remember, but there's no use if you simply remember. Wei Ying, he really can't take it unless he stirs up some trouble, can he? If I had known, I would've made him stay in Lotus Pier properly and not go outside. Could Wen Chao really have dared to do anything to the two young masters of the GusuLan Sect and Lanling Jin Sect? Even if he did, it'd mean that they ran out of luck. Since when was it your turn to play the hero?"

Blood roared in Madam Jin’s ears, her nails digging into her palm, she wanted to bite Yu Ziyuan’s head off there and then. ‘Of all the idiotic, foolish, horrid, things she could utter-’ in her cursing, she only realised she had put too much force in her rage filled haze when her son hissed in pain, she immediately let go of his arm, and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking calming breaths.

She was afraid she would do something terrible and irrevocable if she stayed there any longer, listening to a pathetic mockery of- she exhaled and pushed Jin Zixuan towards the open doors. “B-but mother-” he looked back but she gave him that look and he quietened “Later a-Xuan.” while moving outwards, the disciple trailing behind them, they could easily catch some of the words the woman threw at Wei Wuxian.

Madam Jin gritted her teeth in anger, and left without looking back, once she and her son were seated in the boat. “A-Xuan” she began, lightly ruffling his hair “Your marriage is up to you to decide, I will have no say in the matter from here onwards” Her son was not going to be married into that cursed Sect no matter what if she could help it, she moved forward to pull him into a hug, “Mother was wrong.”

 “But mother what about..?” She heard him say, she pulled back and rest one hand on his shoulder, the other caressing his cheek, her son, who by the Jiang’s standards, should’ve been killed, and her blood boiled in her veins. “We came here to make a bond and talk if it were possible, since that wasn’t possible, it can be done some other day.” She lightly patted him, and seeing his thoughts drift off, thought to herself darkly ‘and if the Jiangs are attacked, well, they ran out of luck then.’

Her son hesitantly nodded, “Wei Wuxian...I owe him, for saving me then, if not for him.....” She sniffed, as if indicating what was obvious “Of course,” When the news spread later that Lotus Pier was attacked, with Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian on the run, she hoped for Wei Wuxian’s survival, more so than the Jiang Sect Heir.

And if, perhaps, after a few years her son proposed sworn brotherhood with that Wei Wuxian, well, it wasn’t without her approval.

----------------------------

authors notes i guess?

Okay so writing Madam Yu’s lines legit left me disgusted like wtf was she even saying?? Also like I tried to write Madam Jin similar but a bit less than Madam Yu (ya know madam jin never whipped kids with her spiritual weapons, if she had any, not to our knowledge at least...right?) but ended up venturing straight into slightly dark madam jin heh, also like no engagement, no jin-wei tense relationship, (there’ll be 1-2 parts more probably) also wwx woke up earlier in this one, this’ll serve as catalyst for later years. 

[sparkliingcrown]

— my worst nightmare.

Summary: You know the saying that goes 'Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?' How much closer can you get to your enemy than being roommates?

Request: Brownies + Dark Irish Coffee 

Genre: Roommates AU, College AU, Enemies to Lovers

Words: 6.1k

Warnings: Lots of swearing. I didn’t hold back in that aspect. Uhm, mentions of drinking, yn kinda panics at one point... I think that should be all! If not, pls notify me ^^

Note: An Eishi Café special. Yes, this is because it was last minute requests and it took too long for me to get to and open up the café again. ALSO TO THE ANON THAT REQUESTED THIS, I’M SORRY I MISREAD THE ORDER AND WROTE IT AS A LIGHT REQUEST! I hope you still like it nonetheless... Sorry it took so long T^T Also, this is my first time writing something like this so I really hope that it fits.

You were hauling your bags and boxes up to your new dorm room by yourself. That wasn’t exactly the greatest way to start the day, considering you had to stay up packing the last of your stuff, rushing to the nearest train station, riding the train, and then driving all the way to your new dorm room for college yesterday. You didn’t even get to sleep a wink on the train and you sure as hell can’t sleep while on the road. So, in short, you were tired, hungry, and really fucking pissed.

You mocked your naive and excited self, making faces as you tugged your bags closer to your body, pulling the strap of your backpack higher up your shoulder to keep it from falling on the floor. Go to college, they said. You'll have the time of your life, they said. Who's they? The many, many movies you watched growing up. And where exactly were you now?

"Can you at least try to help me move my stuff inside?" You drop your bags at the door, stretching your arms out.

"Lemme think about it." He closes his eyes for a second, letting out a deep breath. "No."

That's right. You were stuck with him. Choi Seungcheol. The bane of your existence.

That motherfucker.

His majesty was sitting comfortably on the couch, a cup of boba in his hand. Oh, how you wish you could just reach out there and squeeze it to make it explode in his face. Instead, you huff. You turned away and stomped your way down to the elevator to get the rest of your luggage. Muttering to yourself, you hauled the last of your luggage in, just wanting to collapse onto your bed for the day having barely gotten any rest the previous day.

You were expecting your best friend, Jiwoo, to greet you at the door. You were expecting her to greet you with that enthusiastic squeal when she sees you. You were expecting her to give you a warm hug that would last probably longer than 5 minutes. Alas, the universe decided to be rude to you and give you your worst nightmare.

Seungcheol stares as you drag your bags and feet to the nearest room, raising an eyebrow when he thinks he heard you utter his name. He did not help whatsoever. Asshole. Once you get to your room, you don't even bother cleaning up and unpacking. You sank to the floor with a loud whine, not caring at all if Seungcheol could hear you from outside.

You were so excited to live out your college dream. Going to the library, going to parties you know Jiwoo would drag you to, midnight talks with your roommate, binging series you’ve been eyeing for a while. The universe just really had to ruin it for you by placing him as your roommate. You didn’t even know he was enrolled in Hybe University. It seemed like he didn’t know either. You recall the shocked look on his face when he opened the door.

“You’re my roommate?!” You both exclaim in unison.

You feel your lifespan shorten by 30 years when it fully sinks in that you’re stuck with him for a full school year. If it wasn’t enough that the bags you carried were heavy, the ones under your eyes felt even heavier. Seungcheol frowns.

“You look like shit,” he states, taking a long sip out of his cup.

You manage to send your iciest glare at him, chucking the heavy luggage inside to make him  move. “No shit, Sherlock-”

“The name’s Seungcheol.”

You ignore him. “I just drove a fucking half hour just to get here.”

You kick the bag, moving it to a corner then go to get a smaller one waiting by the door. Seungcheol moves out of your way, walking back to the couch. “Don’t fucking test me, Choi.”

He puts one of his hands up in a surrendering gesture. You sigh, closing the door behind you to get the rest of your things.

You let out a groan, deciding to unpack your things a little later. Eyeing your bed, you get up to move to your bed. You easily drift off into sleep. You would’ve loved to say it was dreamless but you actually quite enjoyed the chaos of it all. You awoke at 2 in the morning, lost and confused. You frown at your waste of half the day yesterday, smacking random items in your room to figure out where you had placed your phone.

Once you located it, the screen lit up your face - blinding you a little in the process. Jiwoo had excitedly messaged you. Well, excited was an understatement when she sent you 102 messages in the span of one hour and 17 missed calls for the rest of the time you were unconscious on your bed.

Your stomach growls, shocking you. “Yeah, I should get some food then start unpacking. Probably message her back as well…” you mutter to the air, dusting off your jeans as you finish up the process of fully moving into your new home for the next school year.

You sigh, “Fuck, this is going to be a long year.”

You bury your head in the reference book that you picked out to help with your assignment. It wasn’t doing it’s job of helping. You shifted in your seat. With a groan, you lean back in your seat, not understanding any of the material so far. Jiwoo pats your back encouragingly, nuzzling her cheek on your shoulder.

"There, there," she says, running a hand through your hair. "Hold on, I'll just return this book because it didn't have what I was looking for."

With a solemn nod, Jiwoo rises from her seat. She skips away with the book in your hands leaving you suffering all alone. You mentally slap yourself for sulking when it's literally only the second month of college. Living in the dorms has not been any easier ever since you arrived. Seungcheol took any opportunity to get a rise out of you and you would bite back with just as much sass.

It was like a competition between you both. Over what exactly? No one could really tell. Jiwoo came over often so she's very much used to seeing the two of you bicker like little children out of the smallest things. This was the reason as to why she dragged you out of the dorm.

"Come on, ever since you've arrived, you're either staying in your room or going to that boba place!" Jiwoo was tugging you by your wrist while you used your other hand to cling onto your bedpost. "You need to live! To breathe!"

"I do that just fine over here!" you complain.

Then, it was just a competition of whining. Jiwoo won that one easily. Her bright, sparkling puppy eyes were too much to resist. You sighed. You were too soft for Jiwoo sometimes. You mumble, cursing the professors for giving a bunch of work already. It was to the point that you could barely keep track of any of your subjects anymore.

You stare at your laptop screen, a half blank essay staring back at you with a menacing aura. You turn your head. An open textbook sat atop several other books of the same subject stared at you too. You could hear it calling for you, yelling at you to study for the test next week. With a silent cry, you drop your head down onto the table. You hear a snicker from behind you. One that you've heard way too many times that you didn't even need to turn around to see who it was.

"Hello to you too, Choi." You let out a tired sigh, head rising from the table.

"You look pitiful like that," he comments, eyeing the multitude of books surrounding your laptop. "You need any help?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Do you need help?"

"The Choi Seungcheol is offering me help?"

"Ah, good, so your ears can work," he gives you that shit eating grin that you just want to punch off his face. You can already feel the fire burning inside just ready to burst. You feel like a boiling kettle to say the least. It's his turn to raise an eyebrow now.

"Well?"

"No way," you huff like a child, turning your back on him.

He sat across from you. It really just had to be the only fucking unoccupied seat left. You mentally cursed all the students who came to the library. Then you felt bad and instead cursed Seungcheol who just had to come to the library when you were at the peak of the stress rollercoaster, just ready to dive into the depths of despair and bad grades.

Your eyes flutter back and forth between the laptop, the books and Seungcheol himself. With a defeated sigh, you turn the laptop so the screen could face him. "Please."

That same grin never left his face, he tauntingly cups a hand around his ear. "What's that? I can't hear you."

"Old man," you retort with a snicker. Just as he was going to open his mouth to protest, you repeat yourself a little louder. "Please help me with this damn assignment so I can finish it already."

"That's more like it." He pulls out the chair next to you, pushing away the books to help you.

You would never admit it out loud but you were actually grateful that Seungcheol had offered his help. With every small pointer he gave you, you were able to fly through all of your workload like a breeze. He even lent you his notes for that test you were so worried about. You leaned back, tipping your head back as the most relieved sigh anyone could muster slipped past your lips.

“What? No ‘Thank you’?” he asked, a small pout on his lips.

“I didn’t kill you. Is that enough?” He rolls his eyes at you, returning to his own seat. Guilt started to take form in the pit of your stomach. You sighed. “I gotta go. Thanks. I’ll see you at the dorm.”

You didn’t see it. He didn’t want you to see it. He didn’t even want to acknowledge it; the heat rising up and painting his cheeks pink from when you sent him that small smile before leaving. Seungcheol mentally slapped himself, shaking his head and trying to focus on his own essay he put off while helping you. Safe to say, he never really did finish that stupid essay.

"Joo, do I have to go?" you complained, tugging your shirt downwards. It's a little too much for your taste.

"You deserve it, babe," Jiwoo replied. "You got good grades after studying for so long! Loosen up a little! Please?"

You give her a skeptical look.

"Just this once?" She gives you her best puppy dog eyes that shimmered under the light of her dorm room. She puts up a finger and juts out her bottom lip in a pout, ultimately stealing your heart with how cute she is. "For me?"

"Ugh, fine. You're too cute not to."

"Yay!" she wraps her arms around you and gives you a light kiss on your cheek, dragging you out of her dorm and to her car.

She drove you to the party, that sweet smile never leaving her face. She talked about a blend of many topics she was interested in. You heard her mention something about talking to that girl in her class. You only stared out the window, humming in response as you dreaded arriving at the party.

Alcohol. It reeked of alcohol. You just arrived but there were already so many people that just smelled like sweat and whatever was served in the kitchen. Jiwoo took you to the dance floor, which was clearly just the living room of the house with the couches pushed to the side so there's space. She introduced you to a couple of her friends. You give them a small wave. It probably wasn't the best idea to try and have a conversation this close to the speakers.

After just a few minutes of walking in, you already lost Jiwoo. She was probably just with one of her friends. Come to think of it, she was clinging on to one of them really tightly and just being very clingy. But she was almost always like that with anyone. You brush it off your mind, heading to the kitchen to get something to drink.

"They look pretty," Seokmin stated, sipping from his cup and making a slight face at the bitterness. "Wait... Is that Y/n?"

Seungcheol's ears seem to perk up at the mention of your name. He turns to the direction his friend was staring at, seeing you hover over the kitchen island with a drink in your hand. You looked bored. A little lonely too. He deduced that your friend had left you to fend for yourself. He snickers to himself.

"Oh yeah, I think that is," Jeonghan was suddenly by his side, eyeing Seungcheol for his reaction. Seungcheol pulls a face.

"What are you looking at?" he sneers.

"Don't you think they're pretty, Cheollie?" Jeonghan giggled, obviously already a little tipsy. Seungcheol scowls. An old conversation flashed by his eyes.

"Where are you going?"

You raise an eyebrow. "And why do you care about where I'm going?"

"Because I'm your roommate? What if something happens to you?"

"Awh, does Seungcheollie actually care about me?" You jut your lip out in an exaggerated pout.

"No, I- Wait..." He takes in the outfit you decided to wear, and breathes in the scent of that perfume you always wear on special occasions. "Don't tell me... You're going out with that guy again, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, adjusting the straps of your shoes with a groan. "So?"

"Are you that blind that I have to fucking tell you? He's not good for you!"

"Why do you give a damn about who I go out with? Why would I give a damn about who you think I should go out with?"

"That's not the point- Stop going out with him!"

"What are you? My dad? Fuck off, Cheol."

"That guy is not good for you." He crosses his arms against his chest. "Hell, even I would be better for you and I'm your enemy."

“Yeah, you’re my enemy. That doesn’t explain why you’re butting into my love life like this. Literally, just fuck off!” you exclaim, losing your cool with a stomp of your foot.

You fall silent. He falls silent. Seungcheol is worried for that second that passes. He didn’t know why. The silence was uncomfortable. It was like the chill of realizing there’s a spider in the shower with you. He felt chills run down his spine. He didn’t even know why.

You say nothing more, picking up your purse. The silence was odd. It was new. Especially to the both of you. Seungcheol was just about to speak up again, voicing his opposition to you going out with the sketchy guy you met when you walked out and slammed the door on him.

His mouth hung ajar, disbelief spread all over his features. He scoffs, “Ugh, whatever.”

He turns to look at you again. You were by the dance floor now, the neon lights surrounding you. He always thought you were pretty whenever you two wouldn't be bickering until the day's end. Seeing you next to the lights, seeing you like this, it made his heart race a little. He blames it on the alcohol.

Seungcheol ignores the way the rest of his friends start teasing him. It was mostly Joshua and Jeonghan ganging up on him but it was teasing nonetheless. He rolled his eyes, shoving them off him when Jeonghan started giggling a little too close to his face. Sure, he thinks you look pretty, and sure, he doesn't deny that he did find you attractive when he first met you after the summer. That doesn't matter, though, right? Right?

So, what was this feeling festering in his heart when he saw another guy walk up to you and ask you for a dance?

Seungcheol watches as the anonymous guy takes your hand and graciously leads you to the dance floor. His friends would be dramatic and say that he glared daggers at the dude. To be fair, he was. Seungcheol wasn't going to admit to that, however. He crushes his cup in his hand, startling the rest of his group but leading to only more teasing from all of them. With a roll of his eyes, he decides to shift his attention elsewhere.

Your weight shifts from one foot to the other. Maybe situating yourself near the dance floor wasn't the best idea you ever got but you needed to search for Jiwoo in the sea of sweaty, horny, drunk people. What better option than to sit right next to the speaker? You mentally facepalm yourself when the neon lights blinded you from identifying anyone. You blink once. Twice.

Who is this stranger in front of you?

Alarms blare in your head, telling you to get away. Your grip tightens on your cup, anxiety filling your stomach. He notices your worried expression and immediately flashes a smile. "You don't come here often, do you? I'm Eungwang."

He extends a hand out to you, asking you to join him on the dance floor. You shyly follow him, his hand never leaving yours. He twirls you around, telling you to smile a little bit and relax. You could feel all eyes on you, the blinding neon lights and booming music slowly becoming unbearable with each passing second.

"You okay?" You nearly didn't hear Eungwang calling out your name. "You look stressed. Are you okay?" You did your best to shake your head no, breath stuck in your throat.

A worried look passes his eyes, the corners of his lips turning downwards. It was becoming too much. You knew you shouldn't have come to this party. Jiwoo just had to bring you along. Jiwoo... You still haven't found her. The pounding in your heart and ears were getting worse, getting louder. You twist your head, trying your best to scan the crowd for a glimpse of your best friend.

"Get your hands off of her," a more familiar voice speaks up. With wide eyes, you see Seungcheol with his hand on Eungwang's shoulder.

Without an answer, Seungcheol rips him away from you and grabs your wrist to pull you into a more open space. It was weird. You always thought Seungcheol's hands would be rough, yet his touch felt so light. It felt like feathers. It was almost as if he was afraid to break you in your state. If you weren't too occupied with panicking, maybe you would've been trying to fight your way out of his grip.

You hadn't even noticed. Within minutes, the two of you were seated in the front lawn. The cool air brushed your cheeks, slowly pulling you out of your trance. Seungcheol tosses you a water bottle which you catch with trembling fingers. You take a sip and let out a breath. With pursed lips, you turn to look at him.

"Sorry.”

"What for?"

"I probably ruined the mood, right?"

He rolls his eyes, tucking his hands in his jacket pocket. "Whatever. The party was shit anyway. We should get you back to the dorm."

"But Jiwoo--"

"Your friend will be fine." He tosses his jacket to you. "Wear that. It's cold."

"I will not."

"Suits you." He snatches it out of your hands almost immediately. "Don't come crying to me when you get a cold."

Like a child, you stuck out your tongue.

You're sick.

You don't know if it's fate trying to trick you or something. Whatever it was, it definitely isn't funny. Thank goodness, it was still the weekend. You definitely would have lost it if you got sick in the middle of the week. Good news was Jiwoo got back to her own dorm safely because her roommates dragged her back. That made you feel a little better.

Swaddled in your blanket, you begin your travel to the faraway land of the living room where you met your roommate looking at you amusedly. You sent him the best glare you could muster with a bit of snot dripping down your face. He only snickered.

"I told you, you should've worn-"

"Shut it. I'd rather be sick than wear that sweaty jacket of yours."

"Oi!" He stands up, pointing at you who was rummaging through the fridge. "I'll have you know my jacket isn't at all sweaty and gross! I wash it often!"

You let out a snicker, taking some leftovers out of the fridge and shutting it close with your hips. Seungcheol drops his plate in the sink. He stares at you for a fleeting moment; your hair was a mess and there was a bit of snot running down your nose. Nonetheless, you were wrapped up tightly in your blanket that reached the floor. You peek your head to see what's playing on the TV when you see a familiar character.

"You watch...Link Clink?" You sniffle slightly, bringing your blanket back up to rest on your shoulders.

"Oh? You know this show?" Cute. He shakes the thought out of his head immediately.

"Yeah...It was on my watch list." You didn't think that he'd watch something like that. "Not like you need to know."

He rolls his eyes at you, ignoring your last comment. "You wanna watch it together sometime?"

What in the fuck? You don't know if it was your cold, if it was just the air conditioning or literal chills went down your spine at his offer. Maybe it was just the first option. Caught off guard, you stare at him. His eyebrow was raised at you while waiting for your response.

"Uhm...yeah, sure... why not?"

"Oh, yeah." He opens up a cabinet, your curious eyes following his form as he searches through the cupboard. He pulls out a green plastic and hands it over to you. "I figured you would get sick, so I bought some stuff this morning that could probably help."

"Oh, uh, thanks..."

"Don't mention it." You weren't too sure but you thought you saw him blush a little. Perhaps it was your brain playing tricks on you. Nonetheless, despite being your enemy, he was nice enough to buy you something. Though, it really was just a small cold.

He clears his throat, snapping you out of your trance. "Get some rest. Jiwoo will probably drop by here later."

"Yeah, okay."

“You’re telling me he took care of you while you were sick?”

“And you’re telling me you didn’t threaten him at all to take care of me while I was sick?”

Jiwoo takes a long sip of her bubble tea, taking her time to chew the pearls while you wait for an answer. She simply shakes her head no. You sigh.

“It’s not like he, like, took care of me. It was more of, like, he just made living together less of a living hell, I guess,” you state, taking your own sip of your tea.

“Less? What do you mean?”

“I mean, he still teased and taunted me. Like, he kept bringing his friends over. You know how loud all of them could get. Finished a bunch of my snacks even though they had my name on it. He broke my third favorite mug, too. One time, he placed my shit on top of the cabinet when he knew I couldn’t really reach it.”

You almost let out a laugh when you remember it.

“Awh, you need me in your life after all."

"Shut up, I can replace you with a step ladder."

"Too bad you won't. You love me too much."

You hadn’t even noticed the rosy pink that started to bloom on your cheeks and creep up to your ears. Jiwoo did, however, and would not let you live. Her eyes grew wide, dramatically placing her cup down. She shook you. A big grin was plastered on her face once you turned to look at her.

“Oh my goodness, it all makes sense now,” she cheered, enthusiastically shaking you around like a maraca. “You guys have been talking a lot lately… When I visited there was no sign of chaos anywhere.... And you were just giggling!”

“Giggling?”

“Giggling, Y/n, giggling! You!” she squeals. “Oh my god, you’re blushing! They’re blushing! Don’t tell me… you actually like him, do you?”

You let out a snort. “Me? Like him? Jiwoo, love, he makes my college life a lot less bearable. My petty ass won’t even let that go by, either. There’s no way I like that asshole.”

Okay, maybe you liked him a little bit.

It would be hard not to like a guy who stops in the middle of a walk just to pet some dogs he saw on the way. It would be hard to ignore the way he smiles whenever you see him with his friends. It was most definitely hard to pretend like your heart wasn’t racing at all when your drunk roommate, also known as your enemy, snuggled closer to you on your way to the couch.

“Seungcheol.” A groan. Try again.

“Seungcheol.” Same response. What is this bitch on?

“Choi Seungcheol.” A loud whine escapes his lips. “How much did you drink? You reek.”

“Just a lil’ bit,” he hiccuped, swaying back and forth on his feet. “We were having so much fun I didn’t even notice the time!”

You softly threw him onto the couch as he started to flail his arms. You rush to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. He throws his arms around the pillows and tightly squeezes them as he starts babbling nonsense you couldn’t quite make out. You hear something along the lines of peaches, weird foods they tried, and someone jumping into the pool. You smiled. They always were such a rowdy bunch. All 13 of them. You would know. They trashed your room once and ate your leftover ice cream.

“You look pretty.” You snorted, covering your mouth with your free hand. “You look just like my roomie, you know. They’re like-” A hiccup interrupts him. “They’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” he slurred.

“Oh? Is that so?” You make him sit up properly and hand the cup over to him. “Here, drink some of this.”

He gulps down the water. “You're really kind, too! Ah, just like Y/n~ But they have a little- no, no- a huge temper.” Oh, wow. The audacity. He giggles and you suppress the urge to smile. Failing, you laugh along with him, shaking your head.

“Come on, let’s get you to your room, you ass,” you say, slinging an arm around him to try and get him up. “Why are you so damn heavy?”

“Because of my love~ for Y/n~!”

“Why are you cheesy when you’re drunk-”

You finally arrive at his room, which took a lot longer than expected because of dragging a very intoxicated Seungcheol around who would not stop trying to cuddle you. You struggle to open his door, ignoring the loud beating of your heart. Wanting to go back to sleep as quickly as possible, you let him crawl onto his own bed, turning around to leave.”

“Get some sleep.”

A hand wraps around your wrist, preventing you from leaving. He pulls you closer. You lose your balance. Oh look, now you're on top of him. You hold your breath. You try to push yourself away from him but to no avail. You were trapped.

“Where’s my goodnight kiss?” He croaked out, quickly leaning up to peck you on the lips.

“You kissed?!”

“Shh! Joo, not so loud!” Your eyes darted around the area, several heads turned to look your and Jiwoo’s way. “Everyone’s looking at us. I don’t even know what to say, Joo. I haven’t seen him at all for the past few days.” “You haven’t seen him or you’re avoiding him?” She raised a skeptical brow at you, popping some food in her mouth. She points one of her chopsticks at you with a big grin that makes you want to hide in a hole and never come out. “I think… you’re just avoiding him.”

“Well, what are you supposed to do when-” you lower your volume, casting your eyes to the ground. “I’m not finishing that sentence. Argh!” You hide your face in your hands, Jiwoo’s thrilled laughter coming from beside you.

You spent the following week trying to evade Seungcheol’s presence. You’ve been getting out of the dorm far earlier than you used to and he could never catch you anywhere. He seemed more than eager to talk to you nowadays, usually looking for you in the hallways or trying to spot a glimpse of you in your favorite spots. The library, the boba place, outside your classes. Nothing. It always seemed like you were one step faster than he was, one second too late for him.

He went around the campus grounds one last time. He even asked his friends if he’s seen you to which they replied with skeptical looks for fair reasons. He even tried to ask your friend, Jiwoo, to no avail. He retreats back to the dorm in defeat. His shoulders slumped over as he fished the keys out of his pocket. The door clicks and he becomes visibly confused. He still has his keys in his hand. The door opens wide and Seungcheol yelps, faced with none other than the roommate he was looking for.

Without thinking, he grabs a hold of your wrist as you go to shut the door on him. You snap yourself out of your thoughts from that night. "You're coming with me."

"What the fuck?" You tug your wrist back. His grip only tightens. "Yah! What the hell do you think you're doing?! I'm going to miss the next episode of-"

"Mmm, don't really care."

"Tch." You look down, suddenly ashamed of your get-up. He opens his car door for you. "Did Jiwoo put you up to this?"

Seungcheol smiles. Your heart... Did it skip a beat? Woah. Maybe he actually doesn't look too bad when he's not being a dick to you. Maybe he actually, dare you say it, looks cute when the two of you aren't at each other's throats every 5 seconds. You reluctantly get in, buckling your seatbelt while you wait for him to start up the car.

You look out the window, appreciating the beauty of the night. It's serene. It was still pretty bright with all the lights and buildings yet it looked beautiful. You opted not to speak to Seungcheol for the rest of the drive. You still didn't even know why he dragged you out of your room. You don't even know why you actually got in his car.

Realization hits you.

You're in his car. Seungcheol's car. You willingly got into Seungcheol's car. A small gasp leaves your lips, calling his attention.

"Is something wrong?"

You look at him. "Uh, no... No, I'm fine." The car suddenly holts, snapping you out of your daze. 7/11. Your eyebrows furrow. What?

"You dragged me out of my room... to go to 7/11? This late at night?" you asked, disbelief laced in your tone. He only chuckles at you, getting out of the car while leaving you bewildered and still strapped to your seat.

"Technically, it's like morning but sure." You unbuckle the seatbelt and step out, the cold breeze hitting your skin. Right, you still looked like a mess in the middle of a crisis. "I owe you ice cream since Soonyoung couldn't control himself the other day."

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious of why he decided to be nice to you today. Before you could open your mouth to speak, he interrupts you, "This is just so you won't bitch about your lost ice cream."

"Hey!" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. He picks up a few items and checks them out, you follow behind him like a lost puppy. "I thought we were just getting ice cream... why are you-"

"Can you just enjoy this quiet we have right now?" That made you shut up for the rest of the night. Not really. You started complaining about the cold a few minutes later while he laughed at your misery.

"Your fault for not bringing a coat, idiot."

"You fuckin- You dragged me out here!" you exclaimed, exasperated. "The audacity of this bitch, I swear."

Now sitting outside the 7/11, you rub your arms in a feeble attempt to warm yourself up. Not much luck. He slams a cup of instant ramen in front of you. You jumped slightly at the noise and he sent you a sheepish grin. "Enjoy, loser." You stick your tongue out at him yet pick up the cup nonetheless.

A sizzle breaks the silence between the both of you. He has a cheeky grin plastered all over his face as he teases you with the sight of the can of beer. He tosses one in your direction. You caught it, thankfully. You take a sip after opening it, letting out a content sigh. You searched your brain for something to say to fill the silence. It wasn't exactly everyday you get to sit quietly under the night sky on a school night with your worst enemy.

“I...uh... also wanted to apologize if I weirded you out while I was shit-faced drunk that one time. I didn’t- the words… they just slipped out,” he says.

“That’s it?” you ask. “You don’t remember anything else?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “I don’t remember anything other than babbling nonsense. Why? Did I do something?” Your cheeks flare up, memories flooding back in that you’ve tried so hard to avoid. He stops and looks at you, noticing how you wouldn’t look him in the eye. Your eyes were trained on something else, your cheeks burning crimson. He blinks once, twice, trying to recollect the events of that night. All he remembers was you pissed and greeting him at the door, muttering some embarrassing shit, and being dropped onto his bed. Everything else was a blur.

“We should… Let’s get going. It’s getting really late,” you say, turning your head so you’d stop staring. The two of you finish up your ramen and drinks, heading back to Seungcheol’s car after discarding the trash.

On the way home, he recalls a few memories. The day you first met, the time you embarrassed him in front of the whole 8th grade, the time he gave you an oreo cookie filled with toothpaste. A good trip down memory lane later, the two of you were laughing obnoxiously in the wee hours of the morning. The laughter dies down as Seungcheol unlocks your dorm door.

“Come to think of it, why are we enemies again? We didn’t really do too much to hate each other,” you say, removing your shoes by the door.

“Do we hate each other?” You shrug. He laughs. “Why don’t we start over then? We’re not too different, apparently.”

“Yeah. Sure, why not?”

He sticks out his hand. “Hi, I’m Seungcheol.”

You gaze lingers on it for a few seconds. You never thought you’d be doing this ever. You look up at him and back at his hand. There’s a chance you’ll regret your next move but you doubt you will.

With a simple, soft kiss, everything felt like it changed yet stayed the same. The feeling of his lips on yours felt like a simple gift from the universe as a sorry for everything the two of you went through together. Seungcheol was frozen in his spot, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly pulled you closer. His memories start getting clearer. He slowly pieces together what happened that night. You pull away with a grin, completely red in the face.

“Hi, I’m Y/n. Seungcheol’s worst nightmare.”

“Is that what I get for making you suffer in silence when I couldn’t remember anything?”

“Oh, so you remember now? Damn, you really are old.”

“We’re the same age!”

“To answer your question, yes. Yes, it is.”

For the second time that night, you kissed.

[theunfairfolk]

a tarot reading for @blackbirdwinter since they generously contributed towards obtaining the yokai tarot deck (my precious or whatever that gay little frog said). if you want a reading(s) as well check it out.

anywho their question had to do with dreams. and yeah, this is a Beefy One (to match their beefy kindness! ok that beefy was too much).

This is read row by row, starting at the bottom left.

Bottom row (the problem). Observations: all reversed. the nightmares are bad. duh. but it also means traditional methods may have failed. night lights can only do so much. feel free to get creative with it. there was an insomniac who kept two beds that he’d switch between when he woke up at night. said it helped him fall back asleep.

The anchor. Queen of wands, reversed. The way others treat you in your dreams is an echo of how they treated you. It is not them, it is your view of them. As such, it is not their behavior that matters, only your feelings about it. Do not take this to mean their actions were meaningless, rather, the impact their actions had is far more important, as when an asteroid becomes a meteor.

The buoy. The magician, reversed. Think of your actions in this realm before you turn to the next. What is it you do before bed? What is it you do when your conscious thoughts turn towards those that plague your subconscious? Rituals before sleep are important, whether that be brushing your teeth or praying to the gods. Or both.

The lighthouse. Two of cups reversed. In general, people want to help. It makes them feel good. Asking for help is a good thing on all sides. Help can come from within or without. If the effigies of those that harm you can lurk in your dreams, so can those that help. Seek them out while awake, it will transfer through practice.

The rocks. The fool reversed. The message will be repeated until the lesson is learned. And then it will be repeated some more just for good measure. There is a line of thought that all dreams have messages, either from the mind or the universe, to be dissected and understood. There’s also a line of thought that they’re just a mess of experiences and thoughts being randomly sorted through. To return to the beginning: impact matters over action.

Second row (the cause). Observation: all upright. you’re stronger than you think.

The tome. The star. Now it is time to analyze the narrative. Imagine your dream as a short story. You are an English student looking for symbolism. But this time there’s no rules but what feels right to you. Your instinct and your subconscious are twins, when it comes to analyzing one, it helps to use the other. They can both tell tales about each other, though.

The narrator. Four of swords. There is a message pounding at your door. It wants to be heard and understood. But communication is hard, even— especially with yourself. You are deciphering a code with no key. The good news is that humans are very good at finding patterns in chaos. That’s also the bad news. Sometimes chaos is just chaos.

The author. Judgement. Taking no action and doing nothing are not the same. There is wisdom in weathering the storm.

Third row (the obstacles). Observation: the balance between blood and mercy is a hard one.

On the one hand… Eight of wands. Something has shook this loose. Regression is not without it’s source, as goes for relapse, and reflection. The comorbidity might not indicate causation, but links are links. Examine them. Once the roots are identified, they are easier to purge.

But on the other hand… Justice reversed. “Life isn’t fair” as if you don’t have two hands and free will with which to change that. The ones announcing life isn’t fair are often the ones making it so. Use this phrase as a warning sign; stay away.

Top (meaning the way forward). Observation: wand heavy reading. there’s a pit, like a peach pit, somewhere inside of this. take your time digging it up.

The hearth. Ten/two of wands. You have too much on your plate. No amount of scheduling or planning or sheer white knuckled effort can overpower burnout. Learn which balls are plastic and which balls are glass. Be ok with dropping a few to juggle the others.

[kissypoets]

Liability (Reprise)

In which Harry panics about getting mobbed while out for dinner with you and tries to make up for his mistake. 

a/n: hihihi omg... this is my first time posting my work on here [ or anywhere, actually ] so please be kind. this was inspired by the song liability (reprise) by lorde!!! was listening to it and this idea just came to me and I really loved how it turned out and really wanted to share. I hope you enjoy :] !!

Word Count: 6, 543

Harry unbuttons his sheer dress shirt, blowing out a puff of air as his chest and stomach relaxes due to being released from the tight space. He folds the sleeves up to his forearms, inked skin being exposed to the cool air in his quiet bedroom, the dimmed iridescent light making his tattoos vivid and clearer than ever before on his tan skin. All the jogging Harry has done at the beach has certainly paid off. His skin was glowing in golden hue, highlighted parts burnt and sunkissed to perfection, leaving a darkened red tone that made him even more captivating. This has always managed to strengthen Harry’s external confidence, finding extra comfort in his tattoos becoming more visible knowing that they covered a part of him he couldn’t imagine exposing bare and blank. 

Silence surrounds him as he tears his eyes away from his arm, sitting down on the edge of his bed and letting out another large exhale. 

It hasn’t been a great night for him and the fact that he has to come home in a massive space that was filled with nothing but eerie silence certainly makes it worse. He was hoping to stay out all night with you but the moment people got a hold of his whereabouts, he knew better than to sit still and wait for the chaos to slap him in the face. Instead, he rushed both of you outside the restaurant and worry has taken over him completely to the point where taking you home seemed like the best idea to keep you away from the hysteria. You had hoped he was thinking of a more secluded place to bring you to, but when he said you should go, you swallowed the thickening lump in your throat and just nodded your head, trying your best to be understanding of the situation. 

He felt beyond stupid thinking about it now. Enraged, dismay and dejected doesn’t even cover the feeling in his gut. Harry was disappointed in himself more than anything, feeling like he’d let you down just within months of being together. 

Settling his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, his fingers rubbed his temples due to the pain that was starting to flourish in his dome. He could have done so many things in order to prolong the night and make an effort in your guys' relationship, yet he let the intense fret win him over, causing panic in his brain and feeling like he had no choice but to take you home. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mutters under his breath as he clasps his hands and pressed it hard against his forehead, “you could have taken her here and cooked a lovely dinner, you dimwit.” 

Harry also knew he could’ve been the one to keep you safe tonight. If he was going to cause mayhem in your life, the least he could do was bring you some sort of consolation and protect you from all of it. 

He feels so beyond disappointed in himself that the ache in his head has started to squeeze his cranium, agonizing pain rushing through every vein in his body. He was so tired of this continuously happening to everyone important in his life. Even though he loves what he does and feels such vigorous happiness and triumph from it, he still looks at it as a miniscule disadvantage for all his friends, family and partner. If Harry kept tabs on how many times the media and a large crowd has hurt the most important people in his life, then he’ll have an endless stack of it collecting dust in a separate room in his large residence. 

Harry takes a few more deep breaths until his shaking ceases, doing what he was instructed by his therapist when needing to calm his anxiety and getting rid of the trepidation forming in the pit of his stomach and on the deep end of his throat. He swallows thickly and straightens his back, inhaling and exhaling one last time. 

Calling you to explain himself and checking in on how you were doing was the right thing to do right now. He reaches in his pockets, pulling out his phone and instantly putting you on dial. He has your number memorized and favorited in his contacts, the bold font of his nickname for you listed first on the section. 

The phone rang once, twice, then four more times before it went straight to voicemail. It didn’t even vex him, he just stayed on the line and listened to your sweet voice echo through his ear drums, savoring every syllable that left your mouth. You sounded like how it felt to touch velvet, or the feeling of bliss that rushes through him whenever he finishes a song. You felt good, you sounded good. 

A wave of calmness hits his body, the frustration and disappointment in him halting for a second as he focuses on your saccharine voice, “hey! So sorry for not being able to pick up your call. Chances are I’m sleeping or completely engulfed by a book. I promise to get back to you as soon as possible. Hope you’re well, bye!’

When the line cuts off, Harry looks at his phone screen, enthralled by the brief message. He wasted no time dialing your number again, standing up to pace around the room when worry creeps back in his abdomen. Hands settled on his hip, he bites his lip as he waits in vehement anticipation for you to greet him through the phone. But after several rings, it leads to your voicemail again and he’s left even more concerned. 

“Fuck,” he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, shoving one of his hand inside his pants to bring some comfort in his physique, “one more call.”

The airconditioning in the room roared loudly, coming to life and blowing soft, cool air from the ceiling. Harry’s forgotten that he still had his dress shirt on, opened wide on the center and exposing his abdominal muscles and the large butterfly inked on the center of it looking glorious and fresh. The ventilation blew air right on his skin and he can feel the hair rising due to the coldness, not helping the nervousness that was already swallowing the entirety of his stomach.

He continued pacing as the line rings, his breathing in sync with each pause. He wasn’t entirely sure anymore if you’d pick up at all, but when the ringing stopped and there were seconds of silence, he looked at his screen and noticed the time stamp going. 

He stopped in the middle of his bedroom and pressed the phone back to his ears, certain you’ve picked up. The knot on his stomach tightened and his chest started beating rapidly, palms sweating inside the pockets of his slacks. He wanted you to pick up but after already failing to hear from you twice, he wasn’t expecting it on the third call.

“Baby?” Harry calls. There was some groaning.

“No idea who the fuck this is, but some of us are trying to sleep, mate,” a deep voice rings through his drums, tiredness and sleepiness evident. Harry’s stomach drops as he stares at the wall in front of him. A male? 

Harry’s head starts racing and he swallows a thick ball of swelling anxiety in his throat. He can feel his breathing becoming uneven. He checks the screen of his phone again, making sure that he called the right person. After seeing your nickname still typed out neatly and boldly on the front, he feels a quarter of relief. He shouldn’t think the absolute worst because it could be anyone. Harry has earned multiple different titles under the category of being overly jealous and he admits that it turns him into an arrogant son of a bitch, but he just really couldn’t help it. He wants to be the only one. 

“Hellooooo?” the voice on the other end startles him out of his thoughts and he focuses back on the call. The man sighs when Harry doesn't answer. “Look, you’ve called three times on her phone while she was passed out on the couch. She’s in the shower now and I’ll let her know that a--hang on--” he looks at his screen, “that a Harry rang, cool?”

Whoever answered your phone didn’t even bother to wait for Harry to agree, he just hung up and did as he said. 

The grip on Harry’s phone tightened without control, his eyes starting to water due to the intense stare he gave his wall. Shower? Why were you so tired beforehand? Who was that? Why, why, why… Multiple questions raced through his brain and he rushed to sit at the end of his bed. You’re too good and you’d never do anything to hurt him like this, he knows that. Or does he? His jealousy is getting the best of him and he senses it. He does his breathing exercises again as he waits patiently to hear from you this time. 

The airconditioning starts to die down, the noise it was making starting to decrease and heat starts to radiate throughout Harry’s body. He wasted no time ripping his dress shirt off, fully exposing his toned thorax, muscles flexing due to his nervous breathing and brood. 

You’ve mentioned Effy to him multiple times before, considering the amount of interesting stories you’ve told him about your drunken nights together and spontaneous trips; stories he’s certainly loved hearing and continues to anticipate whenever you’re together. He knew that she was your only roommate, that she’s enthralled by women and that you haven’t mentioned any guy friends yet. He even remembers correctly that you’re the only child, your family living across the globe and that the closest thing you have to a relative here in Los Angeles is Effy, no brother and no cousins. 

Harry tries not to continue overthinking but he’s really shit in that department. It’s one of the many traits that he despises the most in himself, knowing that his past relationships had gone wrong because of it and he refuses to let that happen again. 

Thank god his thoughts were cut off when his phone starts to ring and vibrate on his hand, the same nickname you’ve become accustomed to shining brightly on his phone screen. He stands up from his bed and quickly answers, “hello? Hi. I’m--”

“Harry,” you sigh in relief at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t know that you’ve been expecting a call for over two hours now since he dropped you home, “hi, baby. Are you okay? Finn said--”

“Finn. Is he-- who is he, exactly?” You notice a tint of vulnerability in his voice. 

Harry looks down at his feet that were covered in baby pink socks, a hand on his hip while he waits for you to answer. He hopes he didn’t sound pathetic asking that. He felt ridiculous enough as it is and absolutely stupid for not asking about your wellbeing first. He was about to retract and take it back but you’ve managed to chuckle through the phone before answering and Harry bites his lip.

“Effy’s brother. He’s got a research trip down in San Diego so he’s here for a visit. Sorry for however he acted over the phone. I promise he’s a great guy,” you say, “how are you? I so badly wanted to call but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk especially because of what happened at Perch.”

You were always so honest and straightforward with your thoughts. Harry loves that so much about you. Somehow, it boosts his confidence even more whenever he’s around you and he’s never afraid to speak his mind and act however he wants. What he lacks in being able to communicate properly with his partners you make up for in the relationship and he was more than grateful. 

“I’m fine. I’m,” Harry pauses for a second before exhaling and changing his words, “I’m not fine actually. I miss you and I’m so terribly sorry for dismissing you. It wasn’t your fault, I swear, I’m just an arse.” 

He continues before you can disagree, “I got nervous. That was the first time that’s ever happened while I was with you and I didn’t want it to change anything between us. I didn’t want you to feel differently. I want you now. I mean… I want you to come over now. I want to cook dinner for you and make up for what happened.”

Harry’s heart starts to beat even faster against his chest as he admits his feelings in accurate words. He’s aware how late it is already and you probably have classes tomorrow but he’s hoping you’ll agree anyway so he can fix a wasted and ravaged night. He also thinks he can persuade you into wanting to stay, the need to hold and kiss you intensifying the more he thinks about it. He wants to show you just how sorry he is. He wants you to forgive him and let him show you just how important you are to him. He wants to make you his favorite homemade meal and demonstrate his outrageous skills in bed, which you have been pining for and missing so much. 

You were about to answer but he cuts you off once more. You smile slightly as you listen to him speak, “fuck. How are you? How are you feeling? Sorry.”

“Deep breaths, please? You sound really nervous and you have no reason to be, it’s just me,” you have no idea how nervous you make him and how much he worries about you, but he refrains from saying it out loud, not wanting to speak over you again. “I’m bummed about what happened because I really wanted to have a lovely dinner with you but I also understand. I understand and I feel better now that I’m hearing your voice. You have nothing to apologize for, Harry.”

“I do,” he mutters and toys with his belt, eyes still on the floor, “if it weren’t for me, no crowd would have showed up and we would still be sitting on that rooftop with a nice glass of extremely expensive wine. They’ll have no choice but to kick us out.”

You giggle and the sound makes Harry’s anxiety melt away. The tension in his muscles starts to soften and his heart starts to slow down, instantly feeling healed. 

Harry looks up and his lips finally curl on its sides, dimples popping out on both of his cheeks and he feels more than relieved. He had no doubts about you understanding the unfortunate circumstance but he was one to always need validation and he feels undeniably reassured by your simple words, and even just the sound of your laugh.

At times, strange happenings like that would commence an argument with his exes. Looking back at it now, it was very odd to him considering he had no control over it. Plus he trusts his fans enough and knows that they wouldn’t do anything to put him and his loved ones in danger. Though mobs happen, he’s aware that they will never cross a line that damages his respect for them. 

But you discepher and accept it, without him having to beg you to or explain to you. Another reason why he’s so enamored by you. You just know. 

“Yeah, that would have been lovely. But we can always go another time. I saw you today and it was enough for me,” you replied. Harry’s cheeks tightens as he smiles wider, dimples deepening and crinklers appearing beside his eyes. He feels himself flush because of your words and he crunches his nose to calm himself. 

“We can try again tonight,” he brings his suggestion back into the conversation, “so, will you come? I can pick you up, I don’t mind.”

You frown. “I’d love to but, it’s almost eleven, classes tomorrow and Effy--”

“Please, darling?” Harry begs, sitting down on his bed again. He hears you inhale upon hearing the sudden word of endearment and he grins. He knows how much you love it when he calls you random pet names, but mostly the sweetest ones that will have you turning into goo. 

“God, you’re good,” you admit and tilt your head back, laughing quietly. Harry’s grin grows, “fine. But I can drive myself.”

“No,” he butts in. “I can pick you up. It’s just a twenty minute drive.”

It was a tactic. Harry figured that if you didn’t have your vehicle with you then you will be more likely to stay. But he knows that he’ll cave in on driving you back anyway if you really wanted to go home for the night.

“Harry,”

“Honey,” he throws in another nickname. You inhale. He smiles.

“Fine,” you say in defeat. 

Harry’s heart almost leaps out of his chest in triumph and excitement; the fact that he’s seeing you again tonight lit up something in him. He’s grateful that you can’t see the  idiotic smile he’s sporting right now, otherwise his body will flush in humiliation and you’ll tease him about it all night. Little does he know, you’ve got the same look on your beautiful face, also thankful that he couldn’t see you. You’re both a mirrorball to each other’s life, lighting one another up in a way that you’ve both always craved. 

“See you then, baby,” he says.

___

Due to the lack of traffic, Harry was able to make it in your apartment complex in just under 15 minutes. Mulholland Drive was packed as usual but it still didn’t prevent him from arriving too late. Dressed in black joggers and a black hoodie, curls tied up in a black scrunchie and pushed back in a red bandana, he looked absolutely cozy and at ease. 

The brief conversation between the two of you over the phone has brought him slight serenity. He’s still hoping to somehow bring it up tonight and apologize once more knowing what he said through the phone wouldn’t be enough. And he also wants to put his compelling abilities in bed to good use as a way to show you how sorry he was, if you’ll let him. 

He adjusts the cool air that left his car’s ventilation, making sure it wasn’t too warm nor too cold once you get in the car. He stares at the open space of your building, waiting for you to come down through the stairs while exhilaration rushes through every vein in his body. 

Harry feels absolutely nonsensical because of how much he misses you despite seeing you hours ago. A minute, hour, day or weeks even, will never be enough time and he’s fully aware of that. But thinking about everything he wants to do with you just brings back the same intolerable thoughts; getting mobbed, harassed and surrounded by hundreds of people even if you’re just having dinner in a public restaurant together. He suddenly starts to feel unsettled, desperately needing you to show up within his sight already so he can forget about everything and just focus on you and taking care of you, which is what he has started to love doing most.

Just in time, before Harry’s thoughts can get darker and deeper, he catches you walking carefully down the stairs looking irresistible as always. Your hair was in a low bun, bits of hair falling loose around your face while you sported a lovely white frock dress and matching fluffy slippers. 

His whole face lights up in jubilation, mouth almost hurting due to how big his smile was and the wild elation in him sharpens. Harry chuckles as soon as you get in the car, more than delighted to see you. Your scent engulfs him in a wild wave, the air conditioning circulating it throughout his car and he didn’t mind it one bit. He hopes that it would stay in there forever, surrounding him to bring a sense of tranquility. 

“Hi, sweet girl,” he greets you, wasting no time and leaning forward to catch your soft lips with his. He feels you take a deep breath and you can feel his smile against you, his hands coming up to stroke your cheeks. Your shock is evident when you laugh quietly while his lips continue to tackle yours, cupping his jaw as you kiss him back and Harry slowly melts due to the feeling. His body slumps from where he sat, savoring your taste and marking you with his. 

You pull back, pecking him lightly once more before greeting him back, “hi, handsome.”

His body heats up as he leans back in his seat and starts driving, “cool enough in here for you?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you answer, putting your seatbelt on. “How was the drive?”

“It was fine, no traffic so we’ll be home in no time,” he says, catching a quick glance at you while you fixate your eyes on the road, “you look beautiful, by the way. Love the dress.”

Your breathing changed for a second upon hearing the word home, but you chose to ignore it. Instead, you smile lovingly at him, your hands reaching out to lightly massage the back of his head. He hums at the soothing feeling. 

“Thank you, baby,” you reply, a tint of blush creeping up your cheeks. “I missed you.”

Harry feels his body heat up at your confession. He has no idea why you have this much of an effect on him but he loves it. He feels utterly loved and happy, which is something he hasn’t felt in awhile and always wanted to have. Instead of saying it back, he teases you, “sod off, you just saw me hours ago. Clingy much?” 

You look over at him in slight surprise, not missing the humor behind his words. He glances at you sideways, lips tilted up in a smirk and his eyebrow lifted jokingly. You pull your hand away and cross your arms over your chest, “you know what, yes, absolutely. I can’t get enough of you.”

Harry didn’t expect you to say that so when you notice his face getting flushed and serious, you couldn’t help but giggle. His whole body went rigid for a couple of seconds, eyes still focused on the road. Instead of answering, his hand reaches towards your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze to show his appreciation. His thumb brushes against your skin a couple of times and he feels it get bumpy, hairs rising because of how good it was making you feel. Harry grins to himself, perceiving the effect he had on you and completely enjoying it. 

You put your hands on top of his, feeling the warm veins against your palm and you look out the window, watching the bright lights pass by. 

Harry loves going on drives with you as much as you do with him. He hates it that his radio was old and wouldn’t work, but he also refuses to get it fixed. He finds comfort in the silence within the confined space and also enjoys the way the noise outside surrounds him. He loves it even more when you’re on the passenger seat experiencing the therapeutic moment with him. Knowing that he can be with you in comfortable silence gave him a lot of hope in your relationship. 

Minutes pass by and only a couple of miles are left until you reach his beautiful Malibu home. Harry remembers the elephant in the room, his chest tightening upon the thoughts of what brought you two in this situation in the first place. Should he address it now or wait until you both get to his house? There’s never really a right time and he knows that. He wasn’t even sure if it was something you want to talk about or if you wanted to ignore the whole thing and instead continue on to have a peaceful time together. 

But, you were just patiently waiting for him to address it. You knew that if you brought it up, it’ll make him uncomfortable and he’ll start blaming himself. It was an admission in his part that you certainly want to avoid. The thought of him feeling like he puts you in a dangerous environment squeezes your heart so disturbingly that you can feel it all the way up your brain. You’ll get upset and he might assume the worst; when really, you just want him to understand that you know he can’t control it and that despite everything, you adore him and will never leave, unless, for unbeknown reasons and god forbid, he wants you to. 

“Almost there, love,” he cuts his own thoughts off, including yours, clueless about how in sync they were. You look over at him the same time he took a quick glance at you. He looks back at the road and whispers something about how pretty you are but it was so quiet you could barely hear it. 

Instead of acknowledging it, you put your hand back where it was on his hair and softly massage his scalp. You feel him lean back a tad, clearly finding peace in your touch. You bit your lip to keep yourself from saying those three words you didn’t know he wanted to say too, both of you too scared to admit and profess it out loud. 

_____

“Is there anything I should be doing?” you ask Harry from where you sat in his kitchen, a glass of extremely expensive red wine in your hand. He wanted to open a bottle of Ichiro’s Malt, hoping that it’ll make up for the ones you both could’ve had at Perch. 

He twists his body slightly to look at you, answering in the sweetest tone, “nope. Sit there and look pretty, that’s all. I’m making this for you.” 

Harry looks absolutely handsome, striking and sexy from where he stood, chopping a bunch of vegetables like it was his professionalism. He’s changed to a plain black shirt, the material hugging his toned body perfectly and emphasizing the muscles on his arm, back and stomach. He even had a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, adding to the whole look. You sipped your wine as you continued to stare, noticing the way his body is flexing as he moves and his tattoos moving along on his skin. You sighed, feeling so lucky. 

You decided to walk over to him to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. Harry has certainly mastered the art of cooking; having been able to experience life in Italy, he had acquired the new skill flawlessly. It’s something he’s always wanted to be better at, considering the only thing he knew how to make was his grandfather’s special sandwich recipe and god only knows how tired people are of eating it. 

Harry feels your presence beside him as you lean back against the smooth counter, sipping your wine. He looks over at you as he cuts the food, holding an admirable smile on his face. He loves having you here. He loves being this close to you, knowing that you’re within his sight and he was able to be unapologetically affectionate without the judgemental eyes and words of the public. 

He speaks when you look back at him with a shine in your eyes, “how’s the wine?”

“Hm, tastes like money,” you say jokingly. He laughs at your answer and you smiled so wide at the sight of his head slightly thrown back, white and perfectly aligned teeth showing with his nose scrunched up. 

“I have no doubt about that,” he says, looking back down at the cutting board.

The bottle costs roughly around twenty thousand dollars, more if you count it in pounds. But he chooses not to say it. Instead he asks about your day, as he usually would every single time he sees you or talks to you over the phone, “how was your day? Any progress in your thesis?” 

Your ears perk up at the question about your dissertation. Harry has always been interested in it and you fail to understand the fascination. You’ve asked why before and he always admits that it was something that matters to him too, but you feel like that isn’t a good enough reason to be rapted in a boring essay by a grad student. 

He tremendously admires the fact that you’ve continued your studies to get a masters in English. He envies it and he wishes he had taken your footsteps. But Harry is so beyond proud of you and just the thought of you becoming a famous novelist like you’ve always wanted makes him feel over the moon. You deserve nothing but good things and he can’t wait until you finish uni and finally build your self publishing pursuit.

“A lot of progress which I’m so relieved about. Remember when we read Course of Love together? I annotated it in the process and a lot of the quotes really came in handy for my essay,” you tell him, “I’ve reached probably eighty-nine pages and we only needed to write a hundred, but I’m aiming for one-fifty, max.” 

“Always pushing yourself to work harder than you need to,” Harry says with a soft smile on his face. He starts to mix his ingredients together in the pan on the stove and you watch him work his magic cautiously, “but that’s really good, love. I’m proud of you. I know you’re gonna kick ass and everyone else's thesis will suck.” 

“Oh, without a doubt,” you nod teasingly. You’re actually really nervous about it and he knows that. But you’ve mentioned before that talking about it doesn’t really help calm you so Harry doesn’t take the conversation further than that, “what about you? How was your day? Wrote anything new?”

Harry shakes his head and looks over at you as he starts to shake the pan to mix whatever was on it, “you haven’t even told me how your day was, babe.”

“Crap, sorry,” you have a habit of completely disregarding certain parts of a conversation. He found it adorable most of the time but when it came to arguments or discussions between the two of you about serious topics, it vexed him to no end. He remembers you missing the whole point of your conversations sometimes and he loathed it then, “one of my professors ditched today so I only had one class. Took a lot of naps after lunch which was nice then-- then whatever happened at Perch. My day was alright.”

You try to soften a part of your answer with the last statement but it was very clear Harry didn’t miss it. He looks over at you for a quick second and you sipped your wine to avoid eye contact. 

You didn’t mean anything by it. It happened today and he was asking about today so you decided to slip it in there in honor of your promises to always be honest, free-spoken and up front with one another. It didn’t necessarily ruin your day, it was just simply dejecting and unlike anything you’ve had to deal with before. But you’re with him now and he’s cooking you something that already smelled absolutely delicious so you were willing to look past it. But Harry couldn’t and you knew that. 

He lowers the heat on the stove to keep the food sizzling but not to the point where it’ll burn. He wipes his hands with the towel on his shoulder before approaching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You lean back further against the counter as his hand guides your arms to wrap around his neck, putting his hands on your waist and squeezing affectionately. He stares deep into your eyes and you wondered how he was so good with that; how it didn’t make him look nervous despite being the shyest person that you know. 

Softly, he speaks, “I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry about that. I’m a dick.”

Mirth creeps into your eyes at his last word and your lips unintentionally curls on its side.  He has no idea why you started smiling but he did too. He feels you interlock your fingers against his skin as you answer him, “the way you say dick is really amusing. But you aren’t and you have nothing to apologize for. You have no control over it.” 

You’re so humorous and he loves it so much. He loves you. “I am a dick and I will apologize because even if I can’t control it, I’m still the reason why it happens. The way I acted afterwards was very irrational too. Just admit it, I’m a dick.” 

“If I agree, will you stop apologizing and calling yourself that?”

“Yes,”

“Fine, you’re a dick,”

“I know and I’m sorry,” he smiles at you. 

You squint your eyes as his whole face beams, your hands squeezing his face and squishing his skin, “cheeky.”

He laughs and pulls you closer to him, “come here, baby.” 

Your noses touch as he leans down to get closer to your face, his lips barely touching yours. Whenever he inhales, your engrossing scent engulfs his nostrils and it brings him great comfort. Your hands cup his jaw, thumb caressing his cheeks as he opens his mouth once more, “I mean it. I regret taking you home and acting the way I did. I should’ve apologized right there and then. I should’ve taken you here and found a way to make the night better but I’m trying to make up for it now. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in a really fucking long time and I don’t want things to change because you finally got a glimpse into another part of my life. I won’t let anything happen to you, please know that, but it will get worse. Mobs happen and it’s horrifying at times.” 

It’s something that really worries Harry and you see it take over his whole figure. His face shows vivid perturb and his body has become slightly tensed from his words. It’s true; it will get worse and when you witness it, you will be horrified. It’s something Harry has always had to worry about before making the decision to fully commit to someone. It’s affected his past relationships abdominably and he doesn’t want the same thing happening between the two of you. Like he said, you’re far too important to him and for something as riotous as this to come in between that will be heart shattering and utterly painful. This was his life, it will always be like this and if you can’t accept nor understand that, then who will? He only wants you. 

You have no idea what to say, eyes boring straight into his pale irises, clear brood written all over it. Your thumb continues to massage his skin which slightly soothes Harry’s tensed muscles and he’s worried about what will come out of your mouth. He leans back a little to read your face but your mind is so empty that the only thing you can utter really was, “I love you and I’m here for as long as you want me to, okay?”

Your words made Harry lean back further out of reflex, a sharp intake of air filling his lungs upon hearing your revelation. The sudden realization of what you just blurted out forced your eyes shut, hands covering your face in slight embarrassment. You weren’t ashamed that you said it, you were just scared whether or not he felt the same way. You hear Harry laugh and you peak out of your fingers, making him laugh harder. You take your hands off to playfully scold him, your skin saturated with redness, “oh god! Will you stop? I love you and I’m not scared to say it. Nothing’s funny about that.”

Harry chuckles some more, making his way forward to you again and takes your hand in his. He wraps it back around his neck, leaning down to take a good look at you. 

His heart is beating so fast in his chest and he was so happy that he didn’t even care if you could hear it. He’s been wanting to say the same three words to you every single time he’s with you; even when he’s just admiring you while you read a book or watching a movie, or when the two of you are simply hanging out and talking. He catches the obvious adoration in your bearing and always notices the twinkle in your eyes when you look at him. He hopes he’s been showing it as well because there’s no better feeling than loving you and he wants you to know that. 

You shy away from his stare and he titters. He tilts your chin up, teeth on full display on his face while his cheeks deepen into dimples, “you love me?”

“Yes,” your noses touch and you sigh. “I’ve said it like twice already and you, zero times.” You poke his chest in a light hearted manner.

“Actually, you just couldn’t take the hint before,” he teases you. “I thought it was very clear that I love you.” 

You bite your lip to keep your smile from widening and you close your eyes momentarily before locking eyes with him again. He scrunches his nose to keep himself from becoming too joyful because of the exchange between the two of you. You tease him back, “you’re just doing a shit job at showing it, that’s all.”

Harry gasps at your comeback and wraps both of his arms around you without hesitancy, squeezing you as tight as he can and lifting you gently off of the floor. You laugh so loud that his ears perked up at the sound, making his heart beat rapidly and somehow faster than it has ever done before.

He loves you. And you love him back. There wasn’t any doubt about it between the two of you, it was just a matter of finding the right moment to admit it at last to each other. And what better moment is there than this one in the kitchen, where the food on the stove is at its edge of burning without the two of you even noticing. 

Harry puts you back down on the floor and both of you catch your breath. You took the lead this time and grabbed his face, smashing your lips against his. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grasps the back of your neck with one hand and the other softly cupping your jaw. He smiles against you and you feel it, butterflies forming in your stomach as you tangle your fingers in his soft curls. He kisses you so deep, hard, full of love and savors your taste like there was no tomorrow. You feel his hand start to crawl up to grip bits of your hair but before you can let it get further than that, you pull back and you both inhale so loud it erupted an echoing chuckle. 

“Food’s gonna burn, babe,” you tell him, breathing hard.

“I’m so in love with you,” he simply says back. 

[fellulahh]

MC and Diavolo accidentally switch bodies for the day

Taking a sip of the drink that Solomon had just prepared for her, MC narrowed her eyes at the white haired sorcerer. A small, cheeky grin appeared on his lips as he watched her eagerly.

Finishing the drink, MC set the glass down on the counter as she began to grow suspicious of Solomon. Although he was usually sly, there was something that seemed so cunning about the expression he had.

“What is it?” She asked quietly as he began to chuckle. “Solomon what did you do?!”

“You know that conversation you and I were having the other day?” He asked casually as he sat back in his chair.

Without any further discussion, MC knew exactly what he was referring to. Widening her eyes, she turned her head to gawp at the empty glass in front of her. “You didn’t!” She gasped in horror.

“MC don’t worry about it! It’s fine - I did nothing different than what we discussed.” He explained with a smile, “You said you wanted to get your revenge on the brothers after they all took that lust potion around you so guess what? I used the last of this body switching one in your drink.”

Although Solomon found it terribly amusing that MC had just drunk a syrup that would switch her body with somebody else, she wasn’t so thrilled. It wasn’t the fact that he’d slipped it into her beverage - it was actually her idea in the first place - it was the fact that she was now going to face the effects of the syrup.

“How does it decide whose body I switch with?” She asked quietly, glancing up at Solomon with a worried expression.

“The last person you touched.” He grinned, “I just can’t wait to see which one you turn into!”

“Solomon!” MC suddenly panicked as she shot out of her seat.

“What is it?” He asked confused, “you’ll only change bodies for a day?”

“That’s not the issue here!” MC waved her hands frantically, “the last person I touched was Diavolo!”

“Oh shit...” Solomon mumbled. “You mean?”

“I’m going to turn into Diavolo!” MC cried before letting out a sharp breath, “and Diavolo is going to turn into me!”

“Fuck...” Solomon breathed, trying to weigh up the options on what they should do.

“We have to go to the palace.” MC shook her head, causing Solomon to look at her as though she was being ridiculous. “We need to tell him!”

Sighing, she marched out of the room before she could even give him a choice. Time was against them as they raced through the house. The affects of the syrup could take place at any second. MC silently prayed that Diavolo didn’t have some important meeting with all of the high nobles.

She seethed to herself as they travelled across the Devildom. ‘This is a disaster!’ MC kept repeating to herself until eventually they made it to the palace.

Barbatos let both of them into the castle, surprised to see the state they were in.

“Barb where’s Diavolo?!” MC asked quickly, “I’ve got to see him right now.”

“He’s in his study?” Barbatos arched an eyebrow, “would you like me to call for him?”

“There’s no time!” MC shook her head, “please just take me to him.”

Following her orders - and given how urgent they seemed - Barbatos began walking through the palace at a fast pace. Solomon chose to hang back as MC followed the Prince’s servant.

The palace had never seemed so big as they continued turning left and right down various hallways until eventually MC was lead to a colossal door.

Knocking gently, Barbatos awaited Diavolo’s call before letting MC in. As she practically fell into the room, the Prince stood up from his seat in surprise.

“MC?” He asked concerned, “whatever is the matter?”

“My Lord I am so sorry.” She panted as she leant over, “Solomon gave me a syrup that would make me switch bodies...”

Talking had never seemed to hard as she tried to regain her breath.

“He didn’t realise that you and I were together earlier.” She continued, “I drank it to get my own back on the brothers but Solomon didn’t know that I hadn’t seen them today.”

Diavolo’s eyes never left MC’s face as she frantically tried to explain what was happening.

“He says I will switch bodies with the last person I touched.” MC finished.

Recollecting their catch up they’d had earlier, Diavolo remembered the hug they shared as MC left. “Me?” He asked with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” She repeated with an anxious expression.

“What you mean to tell me is you drank a syrup that would force you to switch bodies with the last person that you touched? And that person is me?” He asked, trying to understand the situation.

“Yes...” MC answered as her face sunk.

Diavolo showed no emotion for a minute as he paced in front of his desk. Fear grew in MC’s body as she anticipated a scolding from the Prince.

But then, as he perched his firm butt on the edge of his desk, he looked up at MC. “So once this syrup takes effect, I will be you for the day and you me?” He requested clarification.

“Yes, My Lord.” She nodded.

“Well this sounds positively exciting!” He suddenly grinned, catching MC by complete surprise.

“I’m sorry...” she knitted her eyebrows, “you’re not angry?”

“Why would I be angry? I have nothing important scheduled for the rest of the week and therefore do not need to worry about you being me.” He explained, “and with me switching bodies with you I can finally grasp an understanding on what it is like to be a human!”

Diavolo seemed to find this incredibly exciting.

“I must say MC, my life was far more boring before you came along.” He chuckled. “I think you and I could have some fun with this. How long has it been since you drank the syrup?”

“About 25 minutes, My Lord.” MC breathed.

“Excellent.” He smirked, “Five more minutes should do it.” As he glanced at her, he noticed the worry in her eyes. “You seem frightened?” He questioned.

“I’m sorry My Lord, I just didn’t expect you to react so...well?” She spoke unsure. “I came here thinking you’d be furious.”

“While this isn’t quite how I imagined spending my afternoon, that’s not to say I am disappointed because of it.” He chuckled, “now come on, MC. Wipe that worry off your face!”

In all truth, Diavolo was just pleased he was involved in such chaos without being the one who orchestrated it.

“Now...lets not spend the afternoon fretting.” He smirked, “it’s time we had some fun!”

-

What did they get up to?

Now being in Diavolo’s body, MC decides to give Barbatos some super weird orders. “Can you get out and buy me some peaches without the pit?” “My Lord, all peaches have pits?” “Then find some that dont!”

“Barbatos will you carry me to the kitchen please?” “I’m sorry my Lord but I don’t think I will be able to support your weight...” “how rude! Would you speak to your King like that?”

After about ten minutes though, Barbatos guesses exactly what’s happened

“How did you know it was me?!” MC questions, “because Lord Diavolo always uses his fluffy pen to write out shopping lists! You used the dip pen - a rookie mistake.” “Ah.”

MC walks into Diavolo’s chamber and while alone, takes a sneak peak down his shirt, ‘it’s even better than I imagined!’

Meanwhile Diavolo - in MC’s body - remains sat at his desk trying to calm his mind. ‘Well maybe just one feel...’ he thinks to himself before quickly grabbing his newly accustomed breasts

“Oh my!” He grins to himself

FaceTimes Lucifer, “Hey cutie, how are you doing?” “MC?? Why are you at Lord Diavolo’s?” “We’re talking about you.”

MC pulls a prank on Mammon by messaging him, “hey Mammon, Lord Diavolo’s pretty mad at you...” “ha! If he was it’d be Lucifer messaging me. Prove it.” *MC sends a selfie in Diavolo’s body looking pissed off* “o—oh shit what did I do?!”

Diavolo goes to the House of Lamentation and tells all of the brothers that he (MC) is in love with Diavolo so they should all stop pining over her

He also does whatever he can to make Lucifer blush while in the human’s body. He knows she’s the only one capable of making his heart go soft. “Did you know your hair looks sexy pushed back?” “MC, please.”

Back at the castle, MC’s ordering for a new portrait to be painted of her (Diavolo) to hang above the throne. And of course, the pose she chooses is her dabbing

She also sends a selfie to Solomon, “Hello Harry Potter, it’s Lord Diavolo here to tell you u nasty”

Afterwards, she calls Simeon to tell him “It’s Diavolo here - I’m really sorry to tell you this but MC’s my favourite exchange student.”

When it comes to going to the toilet, MC tries incredibly hard not to look down but as soon as she catches a glance of Diavolo Jr she screams “oh my GOD”

She posts an inspiring article on the RAD newspaper with “words we can live by” and its ‘sex drugs and sausage rolls’

While not pranking the brothers, Diavolo’s ‘testing’ what it’s like to be in a human body. *punches wall* ‘interesting...that was painful*

He momentarily forgets he’s MC and has some of Mammon’s spicy noodles before immediately regretting it ‘oh HELL that’s hot!’

Accidentally mentions something to Lucifer that only Diavolo would know and the eldest brother’s like “...how did you know that, MC?”

When Luke gets excited to see MC (or in this case Diavolo), the Prince tells the angel that he (MC) is going to marry Diavolo and Luke runs off screaming “YOU CAN’T MARRY A DEMON!”

If MC gets approached by anyone and they ask any questions, she answers them very ‘seriously’ “My Lord, I hear there are talks of the exchange program being extended. Do you have anything to say on this?” “Yes. Shakira Shakira. No further questions please.”

[suicidalslasher]

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 - 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅.

the one where Jason is a jealous  dumbass,  that’s it -  that’s the plot.

WARNINGS: This is a Jason Dean fanfiction, therefore, you all know what you’re signing up for. I don’t really got to tell you, twice. 

  Possessive!Jason. Jealous!Jason. Female reader, reader’s pronouns are she/her. 

Slight mention and scene of choking but it’s not graphic. A hint of NSFW but it isn’t shown. Also there’s a few mentions of blood but it’s not a lot, either. I wanted to tag that nonetheless, too. Also, Jason actually shows emotions in this which is out of character but in MY world, Jason Dean is a simp to his girlfriend and would rather die than to live a day without her. 

I may add the smut scene later on, who knows?  Not me. This is my first imagine of Jason Dean so be nice to me or I’ll be like Ghostface and gut you like a fish (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*  

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White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Jason bit back his words, knowing they'd be harsh and full of  poison.  He's fully aware of how much damage he'd likely cause if he spit out the words that were on his mind.  He was going to break, and he knew it wasn't going to take too long until he did so.   Yet, as the female continued to talk beside him as an attempt to grab his attention, the feelings only grew larger and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood trickling on the tip of his tongue.   Jason swallowed that anger when it was nothing but a fire-seed and he had forgotten to drink something cold right after, in an effort to calm himself down;   therefore, it grew in his stomach until it came out hotter than any dragon breath.... all those negative emotions that swam in his veins  and crept in the pit of his stomach exploded and all the feelings he desperately was trying to hold back came burning on the one person he loved the most, his girlfriend, (Y/N). His face was red with suppressed rage and when (Y/N)  set her finger on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped, his nostrils flared  and his pupils were blown and dilated  as he snarled like an  out of control beast.  "I hate him more than I do the Heathers," spat Jason,  as he pushes his girlfriend up against the wall, the framed photograph that hung there now remained at the bottom of their feet, shattered into hundreds of pieces.   "I don't like you hanging out with him." Jason growled, his fingers curling around (Y/N)'s throat, feeling her pulse begin to quicken  as he presses his weight down onto the palm of his hand.  "Do you know how much it hurts to see you look at someone else? To see you smile at someone else? It makes me feel sick.”     "Jason... Let go of me. Let's talk. Please? You don't even know him... if you'll let me speak and tell you-"  "You love him, don't you?" Jason hisses, the sentence feeling like a slap to (Y/N)'s face as he throws out this statement.... it was a lie, that's what it was and (Y/N) desperately was trying to tell him how wrong he was but he just wouldn't listen, the arrogant  son of a bitch never listens!    "You love him more than you do me."  Before either teen realizes it, Jason is letting go of (Y/N)'s throat only for him to raise his hand up  into a fist and he's punching the only other framed photograph that was beside her, the glass shattering behind his knuckles. (Y/N) screams in horror and although she's pissed off, she - obviously - still cares about her boyfriend.  "Jason!" (Y/N) yelps, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to her boyfriend's side, examining his hand which was now dripping with crimson, a few drops of red landing on the now broken picture frame and the wooden floor beneath their feet. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here, somewhere-" "You love him." Jason repeats, ignoring the fact she was trying to help him.  He pulls his hand back, dropping his arm by his side, not  even caring about the way the blood was falling from his knuckles and staining both his pants and shirt. The anger and venom that once coated his words were now replaced with a hint of sadness and heartbreak.  She's never seen him this upset before.... regardless, if he'd just calm down, she could explain.  "Jason, baby-" His voice broke as he looked up at (Y/N), sad eyes meeting with her confused but angry gaze. On top of those, she was sad, too.   "Go then. Go to him, if you prefer to spend your day with him rather than your own boyfriend. You don't care about me, I'm not sure you ever did."  (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head as a few more tears spill past her cheeks. "Fine. If you won't let me talk and tell you my side of the story, I'm leaving. If that's what you think and if you truly think I don't give a fuck about you, I'm gone." (Y/N) mutters, letting go of his hand as she walks back over to the door, grabbing her keys and wallet before storming out the door, slamming the door shut as she leaves.

A week passes. 

Another week following behind that.  

(Y/N) didn't bother to call or show up.

He really fucked things up, didn't he? 

Jason wasn't huge on  showcasing his feelings and putting them out on display for people to see. The only emotion he was so used to showing was anger and madness. Nothing but chaos was built and stored away in Jason Dean's body, too.  All three traits made him who he was.  People may not like him because of his temper and all the flaws he had but it was him, and he didn't plan on changing for anybody.  Expect.... of course, (Y/N). As he sat alone in his bedroom, he felt depressed. He never cried, either.  Couldn't tell you the last time he ever did cry. Did he even cry as a baby? Jason wasn't sure, nor could he tell you.  

But.... Jason cried. For the first time in forever, he broke down and cried. Couldn't help himself.  By the end of the night, there were no tears left to cry. He had run dry. His body couldn't form any more tears.   Feeling both mentally and physically drained, Jason reached over and grabbed his phone off of the night stand, dialing the one number he actually had memorized.  All he got was her voicemail.   "This is (Y/N). I can't answer the phone at the moment but  I will get back to you as soon as I can! Bye!"  Jason groaned and he was half-tempted to throw the phone out of his window but he decided against it as he left a voicemail, regardless. He wanted (Y/N) to know he was sorry. 

He wanted (Y/N) to know that despite their arguments (which weren't constant but when they did fight, it was mainly due to Jason's behavior rather than her own) he loves her.  

 (Y/N) coming into his life was the only good thing the world had offered and gave him. He wasn't going to give her up. Not that easily, anyways.  "Hey." He had forgotten he was leaving a voicemail, having zoned out for a second, the beep brought him back out of his thoughts.  "It's me. Uh.... Jason.... your boyfriend? I hope so, anyway, still.... But, yeah, it's Jason.... Jason Dean.... ha, uh.... you knew that.

  Listen, I'm sorry for everything,  (Y/N).  I'm sorry for having that temper tantrum and taking out my frustration and jealousy on you. I'm not good at this type of stuff, not so great with showing my emotions in person either, so....

 I'll talk here,  hopefully the message goes all the way through. I don't want to say this in person, again, I'm not good at the whole unraveling my feelings, especially not face to face.

 But... (Y/N), baby, you're the best thing that's ever been mine. You're my darlin', my girl, and I got jealous because I was scared, okay? 

I was scared of losing you. And I'm telling you this because it's been awhile now and I haven't seen you around or heard from you in awhile. Therefore, I may have already lost you but.... I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm sorry, okay? 

Thought you'd never hear me say that, huh? Me, apologizing? That's like... once in a blue moon. Hah.....  

But, uh... well, it's true. I'm sorry and I, Jason Dean, love you, (Y/N) (L/N). And I hope that you still love me too."   With that, Jason ends the call, hanging the phone back up on the table as he falls back onto the bed. He didn't - doesn't - know what to do if he didn't have (Y/N) by his side.   Trying to ignore these thoughts and place his attention elsewhere, he decides he needs to focus on sleeping. His body was exhausted after all that crying, plus the punch to the picture frame was still making his hand ache and throb, despite it being a few weeks since he had done it. 

He had one hell of a nasty bruise, too. He was sure it wouldn't look so ugly and scarred if he  had listened to (Y/N) and taken her up on that offer when she suggested the first aid kit...  Before he knows it, he's drifting off into a deep slumber, naturally bringing a pillow into his chest, tucking it underneath his arm as he falls asleep.   

Faint whispers of (Y/N)'s name spills pass his lips as he sleeps. He'd rather be cuddling her than a pillow but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she'll accept his apology.  

(Y/N) gets home a little after midnight, sighing heavily and tiredly as she kicks off her shoes and strips out of her jacket, hanging the coat up first before setting her shoes under the rack. She had just finished unpacking and helping her cousin move things in his new apartment and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed. 

 In the corner of her eye, however, she notices her answering machine is flashing red, letting her know someone had left a voicemail.  She walks over and clicks on the button, expecting it to be for  her parents but instead she's met with a shocking fate - it was Jason.  

Hearing his voice, so weak and vulnerable, brought tears to her eyes and she bit back a sob. Especially when he apologized, that was new. 

They've said those three words to each other before, of course, but it was hearing how sad he sounded that let her know he truly did love her, despite everything they've been through and all the silly arguments they've shared over the past few months; they loved each other. 

 And nothing - nobody - could ever stand in the way of that.   Jason was still a huge dumbass, however. 

And as she grabs her jacket, sliding the thick layer of clothing around herself and dips her feet into her boots, she's quick to go and tell him that, too.  

She loves him, yes, but she needs to let him know he was a  huge fucking idiot. 

Jason, for the most post, was sleeping peacefully until he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, along with a string of curse words. 

  He was quick to get up, throwing the blanket and pillow aside as he opened his bedroom door and creeps down the hallway, wondering who the hell was in his living room.   

He was met with.... well, not a burglar  neither his father as he would have guessed the next outcome to be but rather his girlfriend.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to shake off the remaining sleep that had taken over him not even a few hours ago. 

"I came here to scare you, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she scrambles up and off of the floor, brushing her knees and arms from the fall she had taken.  "Your door was locked, couldn't find the extra key anywhere so I snuck in through the window and-"

"And... you're bleeding." Jason said, gesturing to the tiny gash on her arm.   "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here somewhere." He mocks, giving her a playful smile as he quoted the words she had said to him the day they got into that fight. 

 (Y/N) said nothing but she follows when Jason offers his hand out to her, anyway.   He was surprised when he did find the small box up in a cabinet.   

"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing  a bandage won't fix, right?" 

"(Y/N). Why are you here? You never did answer me." Jason said, getting out the tiny box of band-aids, ripping one open as he presses the item down onto her arm. She was right, it wasn't a big cut, a few drops of blood, sure, but it wasn't one that'd get infected.  

"I got your voice message." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I came to talk to you about it."

He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

 "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a dumbass." 

Oh. 

 It was bad. 

He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He really let his jealousy get the best of him and now he was going to lose the one good thing he had in his life. 

"I love you but you didn't let me speak," She continued.  "That guy you saw... first of all, you have no right to judge him or say you hate him when you have no idea who he is. That dude I was seen with was my cousin, who, may I add, is gay.” 

“I’ve been helping him move which is why you saw me in town with him. We were getting a few supplies and picking up his furniture.” She continues.

“You got jealous over a guy who is far from being attracted to  females. And you know... he's related to me as well, so, that also plays a huge part in it. And if you didn't notice either, the picture you broke was actually a portrait of my family and his together at a family reunion. Of course, you didn't see that, though or probably even noticed but.... yeah, you're a dumbass. I love you, J.D, but you're an idiot for thinking I'd ever love someone more than I love you." 

Jason says nothing, he feels embarrassed, ashamed, but overall; he feels happy, knowing she still loves him, even if he was a total moron.  "I'm sorry, baby, I got jealous and I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions  and-"

"And you need to make up for it." She said, pressing her chest up against his, resting her hand on the palm of his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out from his face as she gives him a seductive look. "And how.... exactly, are you going to make up for it, baby?" She purred. 

"I think I've an idea." He said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, can you choke me like you did, too?" 

"I'll do more than just choke you with my hand, darling." 

"To be suffocated and to choke on either your cock and hand would be a blessing, my dear." 

"Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"

(Y/N) smiled and took Jason's hand with her own, giggling as if she wasn't just talking about getting choked by her boyfriend, as if she was some saint rather than a sinner. Fuck... Jason loves how dirty she was. "We shall." He replies, nearly dragging her up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

"Going to show you how much I love you, going to treat you so good, so well, baby girl... missed you so much, love you so much..." 

[hoaxsen]

| a/n: first time doing a fic on tumblr, heh. enjoy. :)

| word count: 1,519

| pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x reader

| tw: character death, and blood.

Curse. 

Demon. 

Abomination. 

King of Destruction. 

The Ruler of All Curses. 

He's heard it all, and has taken it in with great pride. A wicked grin on his face as he wrecked any kind of havoc he could. Most of it out of pure boredom. 

But that was centuries ago. 

Now he resides in his domain, in the mind of a young boy he's taking as a vessel. Since who else in their right mind would casually eat one of his fingers? This was certainly the best he could get, along with that. This boy, Yuuji Itadori, was probably the most compatible person he's come across. 

The rest died. 

Sitting on a throne of skull and bones, Ryomen Sukuna was lost in thought now. Taking trips back down memory lane that dates back to over five hundred years ago. Probably landing him at the age of five hundred years old, or maybe four hundred and ninety-nine years. Who knows? He doesn't care for the age, just the person that occupied his time back then. Before his fingers were scattered off to the winds, labeled as special grade curses. The most dangerous things deemed on the face of the planet. 

" Sukuna! " 

It was like he could almost hear their voice again. Playing aloud in the back of his mind, as almost if they were still with him. Vividly and clear, as if you were right behind him. 

" You did this to me! You are what they say! " 

Brows furrowing as one memory in particular started to play like a movie in his mind. His fist clenching at the thought, the leg that was crossed over the other started swaying back and forth. Black claw like fingernails rapping and tapping against his leg. He wanted to forget, but he also wanted to remember. The look of fear on your face that day, burned permanently into his mind.

It couldn't seem to ever leave him. 

_______________________

" My dear, are you going to wake up at all today? It's nearly noon! " 

A top and bottom ruby red eye opened to take in the appearance of the one disturbing his slumber. A slow sleepy like grin adorned his face once he saw, an arm reaching out to drag them down to join him in the plush sheets. Their resistance was futile, as all it took was one gentle tug in his own strength to bring them down. Four arms reaching out to cage them close to his chest. A hand in their hair, two around their waist, as the last one rested on the small of their back. The demon hummed contently, curling around his adoring lover. Their small squeaks of protest to get up was falling on deaf ears, a chuckle rumbling from the deepest pits of his chest. 

" What's the rush? Let me enjoy this. Leaving that wretched village behind, nothing is stopping me. " 

This was wrong, he was so vulnerable at this point. 

As their head popped up, with a pouting glare to meet his smirking features. Crimson red eyes clashing with e/c orbs, they had to be his favorite shade of the color. 

" Stop staring like that. It's weird. " 

" I might be a curse, but I know when to stop and appreciate things. " 

Though it seemed like he didn't stop enough to appreciate anything. His pride started to overtake his being, wanting to cause more destruction and chaos that the world has ever seen. Of course it didn't sit right with you, it never did. Never when he came back, sometimes covered head to toe in blood. Dragging in behind a new souvenir, the chaotic outbursts that came along with everything else. Tied off into some gorgeous, yet twisted bow, and handed to you like a birthday gift. 

" I can't keep doing this. " 

Stopping Sukuna dead in his tracks, a brow being arched to show his confused state. 

" Can't keep doing what? " 

" Being in love with a demon. " 

One, ouch. Two, what? Why speak up now of all times? You knew what he did, yet stayed silent with him the entire time. Like what the cursed man did was of any hindrance in this. It must be an off day, or clearly he misheard. 

Oh how he wished it was that. 

" Look at this! Look at you, yes you're a demon sent straight from the depths of hell. Yes, you do whatever it is you want. " 

Where was this going? 

" But I can't sit here and be apart of this! I was already shunned by my people for just saying ' I love you ', I've tried to ignore what you've been doing for so long. But I can't, Sukuna. I can't! You parade the innocent towns for nothing, not a drop of revenge, or anything against them. Just wake up one day and choose this sicking, maddening violence! " 

" Where is this goi--? " 

" I'm leaving. " 

It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, all four eyes he adorned started to narrow and glare harshly at your figure. As if he was searching for a hidden message behind this. 

" Say that again. " 

" I said. I'm leaving you. " 

Like hell you were that day. This might just be a phase, something you'd get over in the meantime. What the humans would call these days, ' a misunderstanding between couples. ' 

" No. " 

" What? What do you mean no? You can't make a decision like tha--! " 

" No. You're not leaving me, you are to remain here. " 

His voice was increasing, he could remember the small hunted traces of fear in your eyes as he took his steps forward. Causing you to take a few steps back, which he had no care for. 

He remembers the screaming, yelling, breaking of a few small and meaningless objects. 

Though what he vividly remembers was, once being close enough, one of his arms shot out and a hand grabbing your face. Black nails gently leaving indents prickling into your s/c skin, his harsh words that soon brought tears to the colorful eyes he used to love so. 

Out of his fit of rage and this argument going on for how long it did, Sukuna's grip did tighten. Ignoring the protests of him hurting you escaping from your lips. Something just snapped inside of Sukuna, from angered yelling and screaming, to now just seeing red. Red was somewhat of a favorite color to him, how the blood drips from a corpse. Or how it pools from under one, didn't even matter who it came from. 

For this time, of course it did. That same red from the trigger for him to kill, murder, destroy all before him. Sadly, it was you. 

Nails digging into your cheeks, your hands on his wrist trying to pry him away was not enough. Weak against him, nothing against him, futile against him. It was enough to show the signs of prey struggling to stay alive once they know that they've been cornered by their predators. As his nails dug into your skin, blood started dripping along with the mix of tears from pure fear running down the nail. Coating it this coat of red with a shining clear. 

That was taken as another sign, go in for the kill. As all signs were evident and shown, Ryomen Sukuna did. The sickening crack of a neck being broken filled the air, followed by a dead silence as he came back to his senses. The curse pulled away, as if his hand was being burned. Your body hitting the floor with a thud, the culprit standing and staring right over it. No emotion on his face, no looks of being teary eyed or angered. 

This would be the first time Ryomen Sukuna felt numb and powerless. A first in  where he didn't know what to do, a first for everything there was. 

Nudging your body with his foot, Sukuna was not ready to accept the fact that he's done this. Quick to deny it and shut it down. 

Denying how the spark left your shining eyes.

Denying how the red blood that dripped from the small cuts in your skin was of his doing. 

Denying that you were dead.

He's never disliked the color red so much before now. It took years for him to finally stop lying to himself and accept the faults. 

He killed his love, and he knows it oh so well now. 

_____________________________

Resting in his domain, still have not shed a single tear. Not even on that day, nor the next day after that, or the next day after that. Sukuna roamed around with the knowledge of him doing such a deed. 

What would it have mattered right? Your lifespan would not have lifted up to his, still. 

He had no right to take it. 

" Are you happy with yourself? King of Curses? " 

It was like he could still hear you. Taunting him, throwing him off balance. The one life he wishes that he didn't take.  Though, you can never change the past. 

With all the cursed magic running through him. 

Ryomen Sukuna sometimes wishes he could. 

[p-artsypants]

P-Artsypants Fic Masterpost!

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Find most, if not more, of these fics on:

Fanfiction.net | Archive of Our Own | Wattpad

(~AU’s, *Finished, ❤️Author’s Favorites)

Kingdom Hearts

~❤️Rage Awakened AO3 | FF.net- Ten years ago, Terra, Aqua, and Ventus lost their fellow apprentice, Sora, in Deep Jungle. Now, they are to return with two new students, Riku and Kairi, to lock the heart of the world. All the while, something watches from the trees. Feral!Sora AU

My Kingdom for a Heart AO3 | FF.Net - The curse of being one of the Princesses of heart, is that there’s always someone out to get you. As Xemnas looked failure in the face, he reached out in a last ditch effort and destroyed Kairi’s heart. Now her friends must travel the worlds again. Sora, to find a way to recover Kairi’s heart, and Riku, to make amends to those he has wronged. All the while, the darkness grows. [Unfinished, on permanent hiatus]

Miraculous Ladybug

One Shots

*❤️Amalgam- When an young man is rejected for being ‘incompatible’ he turns into the akuma ‘Amalgam’ able to fuse two people together. And later Adrien and Marinette would debate if it was lucky or unlucky that they got hit. (Also Available in Russian)

*Sing We All Noel- After receiving the worst Christmas present ever from his father, Chat Noir finds himself out on the streets with nowhere to go on Christmas Eve. Thankfully, Ladybug finds him and brings him home.

*Speechless- In a world where everyone has a soulmark, the first words their soulmate will say to them, Marinette is born without one. But Adrien Agreste has two. Curious, considering he’s mute.

*❤️Tunnels of Love- The night started out with an accidental kiss from Adrien Agreste, and ended with her bleeding in the Catacombs of Paris. Ladybug, the wielder of the miraculous of good luck. Yeah right. (Some blood)

*The Reveal That Wasn’t- First Parts My ending to kittybug’s Tumblr Prompt

*What A Mess We’re In- Ladybug has a lot on her mind, and when Chat Noir bugs her enough, she tells him she’s going to confess to her Crush, Adrien Agreste. Chat’s reaction is not what she’s expecting.

*Oblivi-oh no! - A retelling of Oblivio, except Ladybug is the only one to lose her memory. How will Chat deal?

*Bad Day (3 chapters) - Marinette was Ladybug! This was Adrien’s luckiest day ever! Except it wasn’t, because all his good luck was used up in one go. Turns out this might be the worst day of his life.

*One Win, So Many Losses- Marinette was forced to break up with Adrien. It had been a low blow from Gabriel, to be sure. But she was Ladybug. She’d find a solution…right? An alternate ending to Chat Blanc, where Adrien doesn’t Cataclysm the akuma.

*❤️Five Minutes- Gabriel has had enough of all these girls fighting over Adrien. He decides it’s high time Adrien picks one, and arranges the perfect opportunity for him to do so. Each candidate has five minutes to present why they’d be a good girlfriend. Marinette decides to take this opportunity to shoot her shot.

~*Panache- Every eligible maiden was invited to the Prince’s ball. That included Marinette, scullery maid in her own household. But her stepsisters destroyed her dress, and she can’t go to the ball in rags. Or can she? (Cinderella!AU)

*Perfect, No Matter What-In which Gabriel sets the bar even lower for himself, a reveal happens because of pain medication, and the new guardian actually goes to Chloé for advice.

*Crushed- Stuck under a collapsed building together, Chat Noir and Marinette have a heart to heart.

*Lovelace- Convinced that he's unlovable, Adrien is quickly thrown for a loop when Marinette confesses her love for him out of the blue. An akumatization and reveal later, he changes his mind about being unlovable.

Long Fics

*❤️Longest Night- (FF.net | Ao3) - The day started out sucky to begin with. Her crush ousted to the class and Adrien. Lila taking pride in exacting her revenge. But by the time patrol was over, a young man was dead, and Ladybug’s identity was at risk. Lila was the least of her concerns. Good thing Adrien was taking it all like a champ. (Rated M for scenes of torture)

*❤️Nine Lives- (FF.net) When Adrien Agreste is scheduled to go to a Military School in Germany, Chat Noir must make a critical decision. Does he give up his Miraculous? Or does he give up his life as Adrien? I’ll save you the trouble of guessing, he gives up being Adrien.

*Tender Words- When Marinette finally gets the guts to confess her feelings for Adrien, some things go so wrong, and other things go so right.

*Integrity- Overwhelmed with her responsibilities, guilt, and drama, Marinette has an emotional breakdown in front of everyone, and even hands over her earrings in a moment of weakness. Only for a few seconds, but the damage was done. Adrien’s pretty quick on the uptake like that.

~Much Obliged- Everyone deals with grief differently. Some take to drinking, others devote themselves to charity. Adrien Agreste? Well, he became a cowboy. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a witch, one of very few in the world. She knows what it’s like to be doubted, and assumed delusional. Maybe that’s why they got along so well. Or maybe it’s just because they both like big hats. AU where everything is the same, except instead of superheroes, Adrien is a Cowboy and Marinette is a witch. (Unfinished) (Based on a AU by @bugaboo-n-bananoir)

*I’ll Handle This- “I’ll solve all your problems,” Plagg had said. “You just have to agree to it.” A fixed relationship with his father, Lila to stop bothering him, and Ladybug to fall in love with him? Who wouldn’t agree to that? Except Plagg was the God of Destruction and Chaos and had a more…hands-on approach. Adrien just wants his body back. (Body swap fic)

The Ghost of Smokey Joe- Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

How To Train Your Dragon

One Shots

The Vikings Have Their Tea (FF.Net | AO3)

Arranged Marriage- Takes place at the beginning of HTTYD

❤️Breathe- Survival of the fittest

~Childhood Friends- At the Sandbox

❤️Easy Fix- In which Hiccup has a bad day

~Fashion Designer- Astrid needs a fill in

❤️Frozen- In Which Astrid takes a Dip and things get frisky (Rated M)

❤️Headache- In Which Hiccup hits his head….really hard

❤️Heir- In Which Hiccup is Picked (Longer version by FateCharms)

Illness- In Which Stoick is a dad

~Illusionist- Trick gone wrong

~In the Walls- In which there’s a poop ghost

~Knocking On The Wrong Door (2) - A chance encounter

❤️Messages- Astrid is Frustrated with Hiccup’s obliviousness

~To Mirkwood- Hiccup is not a dwarf

~Monster Falls- Hiccup and Astrid take a dip

❤️Mute- In which there’s a quiet stranger

~Music Video (ImgHS)- He didn’t expect it

❤️Operation: Lovebirds- In Which the gang makes a plan, and Hiccup gets Drunk

~Over- Too many nightmares

~Partners in Crime- A normal day at work

~Pirate- Astrid is the greatest treasure

~Prince- He doesn’t want to be a broken King

❤️Sorting Things Out- In Which Astrid gets her ducks in a row

~The Dragon and The Dame- Beauty and the Beast Au

The Pit- In Which Hiccup is rescued

Hide and Seek- Part 1

Lost and Found- Part 2

Long fics:

*❤️Infernal Responsibility- Being the son of the chief takes brains, courage, and a lot of patience. But at his father’s the request for marriage, Hiccup decides he has had enough. When he seeks out a life of ease, he runs into more than what he bargained for.

*❤️Roses and Lilies- “Astrid, you and I both know you’re much tougher than I am. You’re more brave, and a better fighter…but just for a little while…could we pretend that I’m the one protecting you?” “Oh gods yes!” (Also Available in Spanish!)

*~What the Water Gave Me- The sea is a wild and dangerous thing, something that cannot be foretold or predicted. Hiccup discovered this many years ago, in human naiveté. Yet, what was meant as a sacrifice became a new life, one like no one could comprehend. He now finds himself once more in the unknowing hands of those that sentenced him to death. He only prays things will be different this time. Merman!AU

*Parasite- Soulsnatcher Dragons are rare but deadly. But, As Hiccup finds out, it’s the eggs you have to watch out for.

*~320 State Street- Gobber’s Goods. A Hardware Store that was rumored to have everything you needed. She thought she only needed a job. Turns out, she needed a lot more than that. (A Modern AU no one asked for)

*~❤️The North Tower- When Finn Hofferson died, Astrid inherited his castle in Wales…and a whole lot more. Something sinister lurks in the North Tower.

*~❤️Boy Toy- AO3 - At the age of 21, Princess Astrid lawfully has to pick a husband. But when the perfect groom is nowhere to be found, she requests the toymaker to create one for her. It’s safe to say that everyone in the kingdom is a little concerned. (Pinocchio!AU I guess?)

No, You Go First- AO3 - The Chief of Berk was a headstrong viking, stubborn and full of pride, and willing to do whatever it takes to keep his village safe. But for a moment, he puts that aside, and listens to his son. In which Hiccup convinces his dad not to make him go through Dragon Training, and the subsequent changes that follow.

*In Due Time- AO3 - As another illness sweeps through Berk, Gothi needs another ingredient for her medicine…one that doesn’t exist anymore. Fortunately, she kept that old spell book around for such an occasion. Big Hiccup is sent to five years into the past, and his younger self sent to take his place in the future. But it’s only a few days, what could go wrong?

Trollhunters: Tales from Arcadia

❤️Arcadia or Bust- In Which Arcadia welcomes back it’s underground citizens.

Teen Titans

Oneshots:

~Big Brother- Don’t turn out the light (Horror)

Dear Jason- Bruce Writes a letter

Just Drawing- Bruce thinks about Robin

The Prisoner- Starfire is Guilty

Of Mustard and Three Foot Purple Tongues- A collection of Oneshots and Drabbles

Long Fics (*Finished):

*~❤️Carol of the Bells- High in the dark Bell Tower of Notre Dame, there lives a mysterious bell ringer. Legend tells of the angel who fell from the sky, and the curse she bares. There are few who know her true identity though; her master, the priest, and the acrobat that performs on the streets below. Based loosely on ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ RobxStar and slight BBxRae

*No Escape- Three years ago, Starfire escaped an Alien race called the Gordanians, to arrive on Earth. They’re back, and ready to put Starfire back where she belongs, behind reinforced Titanium bars. Robin’s not about to let her go…if only he hadn’t got captured first. How does it feel to be the alien, Robin?

*Now you Know My Pain- When the new Villain, Gender Bender, comes to down, the Titans find themselves in an odd situation. They’ve been turned into the opposite gender against their will! Now in order to change back, they must learn to understand the gender they’ve turned into. Rated T for obvious reasons. A great read if you’ve ever wondered why girls or guys do [blank].

*Paint it Black- Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City’s crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a relation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself? Actually, contains NO OC.

*Saving Grace- “When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk upright or speak coherent sentences and all you’ll see is my mask and my voice repeating in your head…Weak. Richard Grayson, I am not tough, I am everything that you fear.” Happy Ending! Smudge of RobStar. NO Slash!

Other Fandoms

Final Fantasy XV

❤️Requiem for Pitioss-“O King. The god’s have heard your cries. Know that we weep with you. The Oracle’s calling has not yet been fulfilled. But…Lunafreya as you know her cannot return the way she was.” Noctis looked up, hopeful. “But she can return!” Canon divergence from Chapter 9. Happy ending. Some spoilers.

Final Fantasy X

I Do…I Guess? - “I would…like to ask you something.” “Shoot.” “Well…if it’s not too much…I’d like to ask you…to marry me.” Knowing what’s to come during her pilgrimage, Yuna asks Tidus to marry her, strictly for convenience and having an official next of kin, of course. Starts after Luca and how this decision would affect the rest of the story.

Beauty and the Beast

*❤️Behold the Beast- A Oneshot alternate ending to the Animated Film

Cinderella

*❤️Midnight- “When the clock strikes twelve, the spell will be broken,” the fairy godmother had warned. A retelling of the story, when Cinderella doesn’t escape the ball in time. Oneshot

*So This is Love- What if Jaq and Gus hadn’t made it in time to help Cinderella? A new twist on the ending of the classic Fairytale, and what lies beyond the story. She still gets her happy ending and her Prince, and her step family gets their just deserts.

Sleeping Beauty

*❤️A Love Song Back To Me- Maleficent saw the loophole that stared her in the face. Prince Phillip would break the curse in time, for sure. After all, he was betrothed to Aurora. So in an effort for her evil plan to stay in action, Maleficent takes care of the young prince herself. Phillip never imagined having to live off the land like the birds above. Alternate twist on the classic Disney tale.

Escaflowne

Down Feathers- Hitomi’s depressed. She’s been away from Van too long, he comes back to visit her…but what if something went wrong with the transfer? (Not finished. Never will be finished. Mwahaha) Circa 2012

*Angel’s Wounds- Fanelia’s been victorious in their most recent battle with Basrum. Unfortunately, someone is wounded and just seeks solace in his love that lives so far away. Post Anime.

Momma Look Sharp- With the war between Fanelia and Basrum finally coming to a close, the kingdom is celebrating. The young king, however, is suffering from an experience unlike any he had before. Van finally seeks solace in his wife.

[finrelia]

Nothing, Nobody

Part 1

Request: Nope! I wanted to indulge myself for my first fic back!

Summary: B!D tries to find her girlfriend, Lena, but instead finds the last person she wanted to run into, Kara, infected with red Kryptonite.

Warnings: Violence, Cursing, Abuse, and a LOT of Angst.

Word Count: 1,432

A/N: Hey guys, long time no see! I wanted to start back up with something I really wanted to write. I’m incredibly rusty. It’s been well over a year since I last wrote, so please bare with me.

You let out a massive yawn, stretching your legs and rubbing your eyes slightly as the harsh blue light from your phone illuminates the entire room. You wince slightly as you squint, picking up your phone to see what all the commotion was about. Four missed calls from Alex, and six missed calls from Lena. You mumble obscenities under your breath as you get a rapid string of texts from Alex.

“Y/N It’s Kara. She got exposed to red kryptonite again, find Lena and get somewhere safe NOW.” You let out a soft gasp. You remember what happened the last time Kara had been exposed to red kryptonite… you still have nightmares. The first thing you do is call Lena. No answer.

“Come on, come on, come on.” You mutter as you try calling her another two times. “Dammit Luthor. Please be okay”

You throw on your clothes, grab your keys, and in a matter of minutes you were in your car flying down the road to LCorp. You were panicking, your mind racing at the thought of Lena being hurt by Kara. You trust your sister with your life, but when red kryptonite was involved, she just wasn't herself.

Your car peels into the parking garage, and you sprint to the elevator. You slam your finger onto the button marked “Labs” about a hundred times before the doors to the elevator even shut. You’re  bouncing on the balls of your feet, and shaking. It seems like ages pass as the elevator descends, eventually finally reaching your destination.

The sound of your boots against the cold polished cement floor resounds throughout the large open room, echoing across the steel and stone walls. “Lena??” You call out to what seems like an empty void. Before you could shout her name again, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s from Lena…

“Hey I’m almost to your apartment! Alex told me about Kara. Have a bag packed, we have to get to my safehouse. See you soon, okay?”

“Shit…” You said quietly to yourself.

You turn around, still looking at your messages, to start heading back to the elevator when you collide with someone, causing you to drop your phone as you start to type out your reply. It bounces slightly, landing near the elevator. You stare at the figure in front of you, and your heart sinks deep into your chest, forming a pit in your stomach. You see the unmistakable blue fibers of supergirl’s suit, and your eyes slowly move up, glancing over the ever famous insignia on her chest, finally resting at her face. You swallow hard when you see the red glow pulse through her neck and spread throughout her face.

“Hey… Kara!” You say, feigning a smile.

“Y/N you are the LAST person I wanted to see right now.” she says, her tone unfamiliar and cold. She places her hands on your shoulders, and shoves you to the ground, you let out a sharp intake of breath, realizing that you are truly alone, and unable to call for help.  I could say the same about you. You think to yourself, knowing its best not to provoke her when she’s in this state.

“Kara… I know this isn’t you. It's the red kryptonite…”

“Oh, please. Spare me.” Her words sting, laced with malice.

“I know you would never hurt me.” you say, slowly scooting away from her. “Come back to me, please.” You plead with her, trying desperately to get through to her, despite knowing that it’s a lost cause.

“God, you’re pathetic!” Kara scoffs, slowly descending to the floor, on one knee. She grabs your chin and yanks your face up, forcing you to lock eyes. Her face contorts into a look of disgust and pity. “You are nothing, nobody.” With every word, she gripped your chin harder. You tried to hide your pain, not wanting to antagonize her, but the words hurt just as much as her hold on your face. She stands up, and releases your chin, sauntering around you, still on the cold floor.

“You know what amazes me?” You swallow hard and hum in response.

“Hmm?”

“You and Lena…”

“Excuse me?” you say, your voice breaking slightly.

“Lena is… so unbelievably smart, and beautiful, and talented. She is actually worth something, unlike you.”

“K- Kara, please stop.”

“Now now, don’t beg.” She says in a cloyingly sweet voice, crawling with hate. “You aren’t even a real Danvers. Real Danvers have something going for them. You disgust me.” Her anger was almost tangible. You reached your limit, the last words broke you. You couldn’t hold back your tears any longer, you started to sob silently, looking to the ground.

“Crying, are you? This is pitiful.PITIFUL.” Her voice rose in volume, and she ran to you, rearing her leg back before kicking you almost full force in your ribcage, sending you flying along the floor and into a large metal cabinet, stacked high with glass displays of chemicals and samples. As your body collided with the metal, it created a large dent, and sent the displays above you crashing down, shattering as they landed on your body. The noise was immeasurably loud. You lay there briefly, a crumpled heap, entirely motionless as you began to bleed from numerous cuts from the glass all over the entire left side of your body. There was an especially large cut running from your neck to your collarbone, that was bleeding quite a bit more than the others, forming a small pool of blood on the floor as it dripped, from your semi-conscious body. You struggled with trying to breathe, letting out a small and slow groan. You can feel blood running down your eyebrow, and onto the floor. The pain is so intense, you feel like vomiting. You try to sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows, and you look up trying to see where Kara is.

“Kara… I forgive you.” you croak out, spitting out the blood that had pooled in your mouth. Right as you look up, Kara’s fist collides with the side of your face, knocking you unconscious.

“Y/N??” Lena asks to your empty apartment. “Darling? Did you pack your bag? It’s Kara we have to get somewhere safe…” “Y/N?” she asks again, as she opens the door to your room. “Oh no... “ she sees your keys, phone, and bag are all missing. A pit forms in her stomach as she realises what happened. She immediately pulls out her phone to call Alex.

“Did you get them?”

“No, Alex listen, Y/N went to my labs, they aren’t home. We need to get there, now.”

“On it. I’ll get a squad. Meet me outside.”

You get your hearing back first, you scowl at the ringing in your ears. When that clears up, you realize the pure chaos that had erupted around you.  There’s screaming coming from all directions, loud bangs, followed by even more screaming. You slip in and out of consciousness, slowly getting the rest of your senses back. Someone- Kara, is holding you up like a human shield. Before you can regain full consciousness, a bullet grazes your left arm, causing you to wince in pain. You can hear Kara laughing behind you, and a tear rolls down your cheek. You were shaking uncontrollably, feeling dizzy. Your eyes were unable to focus on anything. You could barely make out the lab around you, you could hear the shouts of your sister amongst the gunshots. She brought the DEO in. You are being rescued. Your eyes settle on the raven-haired woman hiding behind cover nearby. She was holding some sort of gun with a faint green glow emitting from the barrel. You gave her a confused look, unable to comprehend what was happening.

“Lena…?” you whisper, a slight smile appears at the corners of your mouth. Even now, she looked like an angel.

You feel yourself fall to the floor as Kara collapses behind you. You can barely make out a kryptonite laced dart protruding out from the side of Kara’s shoulder. Lena rushes over to you, putting her hands behind your neck, turning your head towards her. She’s crying, and it seems as if she's screaming your name. Lena cradles you in her arms. She’s panicking, not sure where to apply pressure. Blood flowed from so many different wounds all across your body, it was so much blood. Lena felt as if she was going to vomit. You lay motionless in her arms as the world goes dark around you.

[constilationn]

Changing The Sheets || Part 1🥀

A/N: Guys, I’m going through some shit so I just wanted to absolutely break a character. I hope you like it, I haven’t written in a while but this has really helped. I’d love any and all feedback, much love guys.

Rating: T?

Warning: naughty words, reader is fucking heartbroken :)

Summary: 5SOS have caught my attention so here’s a little bit. It’s a rocky start and its 3k of angst so my bad. More good stuff to come in the future tho !!

There’s a tightness in your chest, one that’s been there for days. It feels like something’s squeezing your stomach, like you might throw up and faint at the same time. There are tears in your eyes now, you’re sure of it because you’re never far from tears these days and you’re always waiting, just waiting, for something to push you over the edge.

You glance at the side of the bed, his side of the bed, where the pillows lay untouched. You haven’t changed the sheets since that morning, don’t imagine you will until you can rid yourself of this pain. And that may not be for a long time.

Because every inch of this apartment, every single thing in here holds memories. It holds the promises he made and the love he swore to you and you want to break everything; want to smash everything he owns to pieces to make up for the way he shattered your entire life. You still can’t bear to think about it, still can’t force yourself to confront it because there’s a naive little part of your brain that demands hope and saves you from yourself almost every day. It’s this little piece of your brain that stops you from changing the sheets and burning the photo albums and tearing the love from this place just like he did.

And you think that might be what hurts the most.

Not the lies, not the broken promises and the destruction of everything you’ve ever believed in. No, what hurts most is the way you stare at that door and you wait for him to walk in. It doesn’t matter how angry you are, how much you want to tear the apartment apart and how torn to pieces you are. None of that matters when you look at that door and wait for him. Even though you know he’s with her.

Because, once upon a time, he was your safe place. He was the person you ran to, the person you trusted because it was him. It was him. And it’s always been you and him. Right from the start.

You lay back down then, bury yourself under the pile of blankets and pillows and try to forget how he smells, how he smelt, and fight off the urge to change the sheets or move the room around or take the mug he left on the nightstand and smash it. Because you can’t. Because it’s all him and he should be here with you and you shouldn’t be staring at a goddamn coffee cup wondering when he decided he didn’t love you anymore. Because he must’ve, right? He must’ve decided not to love you anymore and to leave you and leave a note on the counter with his apologies and his initials that don’t mean shit because nothing ever meant anything if he didn’t love you like he promised he did. And so where does that leave you? Where does that leave you?

You’ve taken to sleeping more often, to staying in bed until night and wandering the empty apartment in the dim light of the moon above the window and in the midst of the chaos of your mind that tells you every shadow is him. When you do sleep, you sleep to dream about him because that’s what you’ve always done when you feel alone and that’s when he tells you that everything will be just fine because he loves you. And that should be enough. That has always been enough.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

You never though falling in love would destroy you. You never thought you’d wander the halls like a ghost, stranded because everything you ever loved was gone. Because he meant everything to you and he’s not here anymore. You know people insist that not all those who wander are lost but, somehow, you don’t think you’re ever going to find your way back.

Because it’s been years since he walked through that door. It’s been a lifetime.

And it feels like, it feels like you’re drowning, struggling to breath and you’re trying to make it to the surface in time but you know you won’t. You try anyway because it’s instinct to fight for your survival. So, it feels like you’re swimming up but the surface keeps getting further away. And that’s when you start to sink, when you realise you can’t make it. You start to sink because you know there’s no point trying; so what’s left to do beside stop and sink and watch the water pass you by and pretend you’re not dying. And pretend Ashton didn’t leave.

Ashton. It’s the first time you’ve thought about his name. You thought if you ignored it, ignored the fact that he existed with someone else now, that it would make it better. Because if he doesn’t exist with you then he doesn’t exist with her and that means, well that means you have a reason to try to start living again. The only problem of course, it that he does exist with her now, he left you behind five days again and you know that no amount of pretending is going to change that. So the question is, what do you do next? What do you do when you feel like there’s a tonne of bricks resting on your chest and even in the most crowded room you feel alone. What are the next steps for someone that can no longer think of a reason to get out of bed.

You think the silence makes it worse. You think the quiet that makes you want to curl up in a ball and die is what makes it worse. Because there was always music in here, there was always laughter and bad TV and shouting over card games and now that’s gone. It’s all gone and you can’t get it back because you don’t know how because you don’t know what you did to make him stop loving you. You don’t know what you’ve done wrong or what you’ve done to deserve this. There’s a lot you don’t know, there’s a lot of white noise and blank stares and unfulfilled promises. But what really plays on your mind, what really makes you think is why do you still love him.

Why do you still love him?

Because he’s not worthy of it, he’s not worthy of being in your dreams and he has no right. He has no right to stay on your mind like this and drive you crazy. Except he is. He makes you want to pull your hair our and scream and cry and curl up and never see the sun rise again because he was it for you and why weren’t you the same for him? Why weren’t you the same for him? Why weren’t you enough?

It’s then you kick the duvet away from you and onto the floor. Its then you kick the pillows from his side of the bed to the floor because even now, even with this rage that seems to be substituting the painful grief in the pit of your stomach, you still won’t touch those pillows.

And so you take a breath, take another, and reach across for the mug that sits mockingly on the nightstand. You touch it with your finger like it might explode. When it doesn’t, you pick it up and turn it in your hand. When you see the message engraved on the handle, the message you chose because it was a goddamn birthday present, you hurl it at the wall and watch it shatter into pieces. And for the first time in those five days, you don’t want to cry anymore. You don’t want to dream anymore. You just want to take everything he owns and snap it in half.

You decide on the bathroom first, tear apart the cabinets and the drawers and snap his toothbrush and throw his aftershave at the wall and smash his cologne in the sink. And maybe this is how you drown out your pain, maybe this is how you try to forget you weren’t enough for him and you’ve never been good enough for anyone. Maybe this anger, this rage that seems to fill every inch of your body won’t ever go away and you’ll never have to feel broken again.

You’re making your way to the kitchen when a knock on the door stops you. You freeze and then your mind catches up and that rage, that rage you were convinced would save you is gone and you feel smaller than you ever have before. The door seems miles away, seems like you could never reach it and there are already tears in your eyes because what if that’s him. What if he knows he made a mistake and what if its him. You want him to walk through that door, your door, more than you’ve ever wanted anything else and wonder what’s taking him so long. Is he composing himself like you are? Is he thinking about you and the mistake he made? Except. Except Ashton wouldn’t knock and her certainly wouldn’t knock again and wait for you to answer the door. So If it’s not him, if it’s not him then who is it? Who is it and why would they do this because your legs are shaking and all at once your tears are falling and you’re on the floor with your failed rage and your broken expectation as Calum walks through the door,

He says your name, twice then a third time before he’s by your side and you’re sobbing into his chest as he pulls you in and keeps you safe because Ashton couldn’t. The door’s still open, a bag of groceries forgotten at the threshold and Calum won’t let go of you and doesn’t intend to until he can feel you stop trembling.

“I’m sorry.” You’re not even sure it’s a whisper because your voice is so quiet as Calum holds you. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he murmurs, “Don’t be. Please don’t be.” You want to melt back into his touch, pretend he feels as safe as Ashton does but that door, that fucking door, is still open and the bathroom is destroyed and if you don’t stand up now, you might never stand up again.

You don’t admit to needing Calum’s help, nor do you acknowledge that you’re leaning heavily on him and that crushing weight is back on your chest and tears are back in your eyes and the image of her and him is back in your mind like it never left.

It takes you five minutes, maybe longer, until you manage to stop crying. Calum sits across from you, trying to keep his eyes off the bathroom beyond the open door or the sheets on the floor half dragged through the apartment. When he speaks, after he’s sure you’re not going to, he has to fight to keep his voice steady. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth even though you know it’s a lie. You clear your throat and add, “I thought I could be okay.”

Calum holds back a sigh, you can see by the way his fists clench slightly by his sides because no matter what he says, you know how to read him.

You thought you knew how to read Ashton, too.

“You could’ve come to me.” Calum murmurs because, for some reason neither of you can seem to raise your voice above a whisper. “You can always come to me.”

“I know.” Your quick to reply, quick to assure him that it wasn't his fault because you know he’ll blame himself for not seeing this sooner. There’s a reason you didn’t go to him, though. There’s a reason you didn’t go to anyone. It’s because Ashton is your home, because it’s always been the two of you and everyone knows that. Because Ashton gave you a reason for existing and took it away, just like that. Because you didn’t quite know how to go on living if your very reason for it was gone. “I just… I couldn’t.” Calum nods even though you know he doesn’t understand. But he waits anyway, waits for you to talk or to not talk, and lets you know that he’s not going anywhere.

“It’s funny,” you sniff finally, wiping your eyes even though you know there’s no world in which you can keep your tears at bay. “It’s funny. Because he’s my home. Because I told him about everything that destroyed me and he threw it straight back in my face.” You chuckle but there’s no humour to it and neither of you pretend it’s anything but bitter. “You know, it’s like telling someone…It’s like telling someone: tell me every terrible thing you ever did and let me love you anyway.” You shrug, tears falling fast. “And he did.” you nod, running your tongue along your teeth before you sigh. “And I still love him.”

Calum watches silently as you pull the sleeves of your hoody down over your wrists and wipe your tears away. “I know you do.” Is all he says. It’s all he has to say, really, because it’s all that matter at the moment.

“I love him, Cal.” You nod. “But how are you supposed to survive if the person you love, the entire reason you want to keep existing, decides they don’t love you anymore?” you lift your head to meet his eyes, like you expect him to have all the answers you’ve been waiting for. “How am I supposed to do this without him?” you whisper.

Calum shakes his head and his heart breaks a little because he can’t give you the answers that you need. “I don’t know.” He murmurs, “I don’t know.”

He’s barely finished speaking when you start again, driven by some sort of maddening grief that makes you sound insane. “You know, I see shadows in here. In this place, in our home and I think its him. That’s how badly I want him here, I’m looking at fucking shadows thinking they’re Ashton.” You’re standing up then, running a hand through your hair and trying to ignore how much this hurts, how much this physically hurts you and how it feels like your heart has genuinely split in two. “I don’t know what I did, Cal. I don’t know why I’m never enough.”

“Don’t.” he shakes his head. “Don’t. You are enough. You’ve always been enough. He knows that.”

“If he knows that then why isn’t he here! Why is he with her! Why? Why…” and it happens again before you can stop it, the pain becomes too much and  you sink to your knees sobbing and clutching your stomach because this is too much. It’s all too much.

Calum is back at your side again, catches you before you can fall in the way that Ashton used to before he decided he didn’t love you. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to beg you to get through this, beg you to stay strong like you’ve always been. He wants to see your smile back on your face and the way you have the ability to light up he room because when your happy it’s infectious. But most of all he wants to drag Ashton here by the collar of his shirt and force him to see you like this.

Calum doesn’t know why he did it, why he slept with another girl and told you he didn’t love you and disappeared without a trace. He doesn’t know why he’s destroyed such a beautiful soul and he doesn’t know where he is or why he hasn’t come back yet. He does know one thing though, at the base of it all. He does know that Ashton loves you and that’s why there’s hope buried beneath the layers of anger. Because he’d never leave you like this. Because you have become his reason for existing.

🥀

You know its morning when you open your eyes because there’s this golden light filtering through the blinds that you haven’t woken to for days. You know it’s morning because, for the first time since he left, you slept through the night without dreaming.

When you force yourself out of bed, you notice a note left on your nightstand in Calum's scrawl that offers apologies and the promise that he’ll be back later after he’s gone home to check on Duke. You don’t mind, even though your head is heavy and your eyes are swollen from tears that don’t seem to stop, you know that you’re putting yourself back together.

You know it’ll take longer to fix yourself than to fix the bathroom or the bedroom. You know it’ll take longer to put yourself back together and find yourself again. You know you’ll fix last.

But for now, you can change the sheets. And if you can change the sheets, then you can do the rest.