#Love how they’re side by side right now

[diamonddaze01]

DIY (why)

pairing: non-idol!yoon jeonghan x gn!reader | wc: 1.0K genre: humor, fluff, established relationship | rating: e for everyone! warnings: none! a/n: based on an a conversation with @ylangelegy about how jeonghan has never lifted a tool in his life. enjoy!

You weren’t sure what you expected when you came home, but it certainly wasn’t Jeonghan standing in the middle of the living room, looking like he’d fought a losing battle with the entirety of IKEA.

“Hey, you’re home early!” he greeted brightly, though his tone was suspiciously similar to someone caught mid-crime.

The sight before you was equal parts baffling and hilarious. Picture frames were propped up against the walls, a half-built IKEA coffee table leaned precariously to one side, and what appeared to be a bag of screws had spilled across the floor like tiny, mocking breadcrumbs.

“Jeonghan…” You stepped inside cautiously, toeing a stray Allen wrench out of your path. “What is going on?”

He set down the manual in his hand, holding it up like he’d been caught red-handed. “I thought I’d surprise you by putting the house together while you were at work.”

Your eyes scanned the scene: the lopsided coffee table, the crooked picture frames on the walls (one of which was upside down), and the faint scent of burning plastic wafting from the general direction of the kitchen.

“Surprise?” he added weakly.

“You—” You paused, trying to find the right words. “You thought this would be a good idea?”

He pushed his hair back, smearing what looked like drywall dust across his forehead. “I didn’t think it would be this bad. How hard could it be to hang some pictures and assemble a table?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Jeonghan, you’ve never used a tool in your life.”

“I watched a video,” he defended, pointing at his laptop, which was paused on an overly enthusiastic DIY vlogger holding up a power drill. “And I read the instructions. Well, most of them.”

You crouched next to the IKEA manual on the floor, flipping through it. “This is not most of them. You circled the diagram of the coffee table like it’s a treasure map.”

He peeked over your shoulder. “Because it didn’t make sense! What’s a cam lock? Why does IKEA use pictures instead of words? Are Swedes allergic to clarity?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose to stop from laughing. “Let me guess—you skipped steps?”

“I skipped suggestions,” he corrected with a smirk, only for it to falter when the table creaked ominously behind him. “Okay, fine, maybe a couple steps. But this is IKEA! They don’t even include all the screws sometimes! It’s like they want you to fail.”

“You’re blaming IKEA for this mess?”

“Do you see this pile of screws?” he exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “I’m convinced it’s more than what came in the box! I think they’re reproducing!”

You tried not to laugh, but the mental image of IKEA screws plotting your demise was too good. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me,” he shot back easily, his grin almost enough to distract you from the tilted bookshelf you hadn’t noticed until now.

You stared at it, horrified. “Is that—did you hang a bookshelf?”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, following your gaze. “It’s modern. You know, asymmetry is trendy.”

“It’s also unsafe.”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug, the very picture of nonchalance. “It hasn’t fallen yet.”

“Yet,” you echoed, crossing your arms.

Jeonghan stood, brushing off his knees and sidling closer to you with his trademark smirk. “Look, it’s not perfect, but I was trying to be romantic. Doesn’t that count for something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think lopsided furniture and upside-down picture frames scream romance?”

“It screams effort,” he said dramatically, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Do you know how many hours I spent on this? I used a drill, babe. I risked my life for you.”

You blinked at him. “You risked your life… hanging frames?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, pointing at one particularly sad attempt that was dangling by one screw. “Those things are dangerous! The drill kicked back, and for a second, I thought I was going to meet my maker.”

Despite yourself, you started laughing, the image of Jeonghan flinching away from a power drill too absurd to ignore.

“Fine,” you said, pulling away just enough to look at him. “But you’re cleaning this up, and I’m fixing everything. Including that bookshelf before it kills someone.”

“Deal,” he said quickly, pulling you in again. “But after dinner. I worked hard today, and I’m starving.”

“You worked hard?” you teased, poking his chest. “You mean you made a mess and called it a day?”

“Same thing.” He grinned and leaned in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Now, how about takeout? Thai?”

You smirked, reaching up to straighten the crooked frame. “I’m starting to think you just wanted an excuse to make me do all the work.”

He gave you a wide-eyed look that was anything but innocent. “What? Me? Never.”

“Uh-huh.” You glanced back at him, your tone teasing. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Lucky?” he echoed, grinning as he slid closer to you. “I’m the luckiest. I’ve got a handy, patient partner who’ll fix all my mistakes and keep me fed. Truly, what more could I ask for?”

“Less drywall dust on the floor, for one,” you shot back, flicking at his shirt where a fine layer of powder clung.

“Details.” He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’ll clean it up after dinner. Maybe.”

“Jeonghan.”

“Okay, definitely.”

It was impossible to stay mad at him for long—not with that mischievous twinkle in his eye and the crooked, boyish smile that said he’d get away with this, too. You rolled your eyes and reached for your phone.

“Fine. But you’re watching me hang the rest of these,” you grumble goodnaturedly, gesturing to the mess he had left behind. 

“Deal,” he said, plopping onto the couch with a satisfied grin. “You know, we really make a great team.”

You sighed, shaking your head but unable to stop smiling. “You’re impossible, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“And you love me for it,” he said smugly, dodging your playful swat as he grabbed his phone.

As you watched him settle onto the couch, surrounded by chaos but entirely unbothered, you couldn’t help but laugh. The furniture might have been a disaster, but somehow, it still felt like home—with Jeonghan, it always did.

[hitlikehammers]

PART 2/2: in which lock-picking⛓️‍💥 is 100% a valid love language, and waking up with ✨Steve Harrington✨ was NOT the future (exactly. maybe. ish.)

...but waking up in a hospital bed just might be ♥️

<<< last time: And Eddie thinks that’s highly fucking debatable—he’s not sure where it comes from, because it’s a little out of place, Eddie didn’t say anything but maybe he’s just that transparent, the heart of him so quickly, so completely, and if that’s the case then it’s entirely fucking debatable because Eddie thinks he’s going to burst, splinter like a starburst, glorious in the unmaking for how big this thing that’s building in him feels, how certain he is that it’s about to break his ribs and he fucking looks forward to it, so no: Steve doesn’t love most because he can’t, because Eddie is overcome with this feeling and he, he— He’s drifting, because Steve’s heat is a heady fucking drug, and his heartbeat’s a metronome, a lullaby against Eddie’s back and it’s instinct, it’s unquestionable when he shimmies tighter into Steve’s hold and sighs the weight of the world out between his lips because… Because goddamnit, this feels right.

OR: y'know. Eddie thought he was dying in the Upside Down but then he's waking up in the future, in bed with Steve Harrington like what the fuck

Eddie comes to—again: un-fucking-expected—with the same sensation of his ribs snapping, the pain of it a dull thing he thinks he can just float through because his heart’s so gone on the impossible possibility of some future imaginary day where he, where Steve, where they—

“Eddie?”

Wait.

Wait, that’s…okay.

Back up.

He tries to take in what his senses are willing to offer him: something starchy, itchy against his skin, both sides—definitely not the sheets from the bed he’d just felt visceral underneath him. Pressure and aching at his chest: but less sweet the longer he focuses on it. Stinging and the pull of maybe-bandages, maybe-sutures, maybe both and something deeper, like…oh, wow, fuck, it’s entirely possible his ribs are already broken. His heart still feels full, but also scared, unsure, wrong-footed as more and more little clues seep into his consciousness, before maybe the clearest of them all: a shrill little beep that’s fast, like embarrassingly fast—

A monitor.

He draws a shaky breath—iodine, like, burning levels as he inhales and holy fucking shit, he’s in a goddamn hospital.

He’s, did he…

Is this what Steve meant, when he said ‘wake up’? Did Eddie…

Did Eddie fucking survive?

It’s in the spiral of that thought that Eddie clocks the same voice that jarred him out of his own head…in his own head, before. With the fancy sheets and the warmth and the home and—

What…what if it wasn’t in his head at all—

But his body, his pulse recognizes that voice as safety. As…rightness incarnate.

“Oh fuck,” and that’s the Steve Eddie knows best, right there, a little breathy and a little pitchy for frayed nerves and constant worry and the weight of the fucking world to make sure everyone—everyone else—makes it out as okay as possible.

And it’s in thinking that, that Eddie recognizes what Steve-in-his-headin-the-future-in-his-dream-in-his-maybe-not-quite-death-hallucination meant, when he’d said Eddie’s eyes softened. Because Steve’s heart on his sleeve, in his eyes, had looked peaceful, then. Content, even.

Not so frantic. Not so…scrambling.

Still just as blinding, though.

“Thank fuck, you’re awake,” Steve half gasps, a tiny clattering against the tile floor vying to draw Eddie’s gaze away but there was genuinely nothing in the whole goddamn universe that could take Eddie’s eyes off of Steve just now, those lips parted ever so slightly, cheeks that tiny bit rosy, pulse maybe-maybe-not visible just below the bandages on his neck.

He’s beautiful.

“What do you need?” Steve’s leaning closer, hands reaching but then kinda fluttering, kinda hovering, not sure where to touch and even if they knew the answer, kinda like they’re not sure if they can touch in the first place, yet all Eddie can do when he sees them, when he feels the shift in the air for how close they are; all Eddie can do is remember what it’s like to be pressed close to Steve’s body, to feel Steve’s arms around his chest, like they’re keeping him.

“What can I do,” Steve asks, so earnest and Eddie’s pulse does a little skip for it, how good it feels; “I—”

And Steve’s eyes are already big, just short of pleading, darting to the corners of the room maybe for water, maybe for a button to call someone to help more than he can—as if anyone can help more than Steve can, just now, because Eddie’s waking up from what it feels like to have Steve, and the most pressing possible thing in the world just now is SteveSteveSteve, near enough to feel, to breathe in—

Steve’s eyes are already big, though, is the thing, even before the full-on fucking crash of something to the floor makes him freeze. Eddie tries to peer down, winces as it pulls to much at…everything, kind of, Jesus H., but he hurts everywhere, and…

“The hell were you doing?” he asks in the absence of being able to see because…metal. Metal had hit the floor, from the height of probably-the-bed, after Steve had pressed into the mattress, shifted the weight, and then he’d blinked all owlish and adorable: culpability for whatever he’d been up to written all over his gorgeous fucking face.

“Umm,” Steve chews at his lip a little, eyes peeking up through his lashes, that look that makes Eddie weak and wobbly at basically every juncture it’s possible to tremble at like that, but he doesn’t duck away; he doesn’t even blush. He’s not…whatever he was doing—and Eddie’s range of motion is fucked, he’s already super well aware of that shit when he even tries to move to see the floor, to follow the sound—but whatever Steve was doing, he’s unrepentant. But in a way where he maybe recognizes that other people would have been less brazen.

Eddie’s wrist tingles out of nowhere—weird, when all of him is already kinda in a sort of dull, narcotic-shrouded pain—and he frowns, glances down at least that far and notices the slightest ring of red that’s less angry, not attached to bite marks and broken skin, and he has the wildest thought cross his mind just then, and he steels himself to crane his neck as far as he can, to limit the strain he’ll put on his middle because now he needs to see, because he kinda knew before he cut the sheets and ran into the fray that coming out on the other side meant life behind bars if there was any life at all, yet here he is, increasingly seeming like this is real, and this is his ‘other side’, and…

He’s just in a fucking hospital. He’s…he’s here, and he’s, he’s not…he’s not in fucking chains.

And it stings like a bitch, and Steve’s a second away from stopping him, reaching for him and pressing him safely back onto the the bed, but Eddie gets the glimpse he needs. Recognizes the shape on the floor, shiny steel against the scratched-up linoleum.

“Were you,” Eddie traces the ridges of his teeth with his tongue, because there are layers to what he’s about to ask; “were, umm, were you picking the,” and the first little clatter from before makes more sense if he’s right, and if he’s right, well, fuck.

It’ll be hot as hell, if he’s right.

“That?” Eddie tilts his head toward the floor because: cuffs. What he’d seen, what had fallen: handcuffs. On the floor. And they’d have had to have been not on the floor, and probably on him before, and so, he—

“Possibly,” Steve answers with a straight face, as unapologetic as ever, maybe more; maybe even defiant, and oh, wow. Steve Harrington picking his fucking handcuffs, setting his stupidly-quickly-lovesick ass free.

Hot as fuck; seriously.

“How positively criminal of you, Harrington,” Eddie grins half-maniacal, feels the stretch of it burn against a cut that’s gotta run half the span of his cheek but fuck it, the warmth flooding him is undeniable, is incredible—he’s giddy all of a sudden, straight to his bones.

“S’nothing on hot-wiring,” Steve shrugs, like it’s not fucking everything; “but I wasn’t,” and Steve takes a deep breath before he squares his shoulders, looks at Eddie straight-on and shit, if he thought the warmth in him up to now was something?

It’s kinda got nothing on what consumes him under those eyes.

“I wasn’t going to let you wake up fucking…shackled.”

And goddamn if the fire in that voice, those words, doesn’t light Eddie up like burning, doesn’t shake him to the core and then blanket him in sureness and the kind of protection he didn’t think really existed.

Save that he does kinda think it’s exactly what this man’s made of; made for.

And Eddie can’t escape the certainty rising in his veins and pumping, fierce and unshakable, that he wants—more than maybe anything—to be the one to give that same safety, that same promise of something unwavering and permanent and beyond question, right back to Steve.

“You’re an innocent man,” Steve leans in then, emphatic with it; “you’re a goddamn hero,” and he means it, holy shit, he believes that:

“Like hell I was just gonna,” and he shakes his head, like the idea is just that preposterous; like he cannot even consider anything but Eddie being free, and okay, and here, and…

Eddie’s struck with the sudden slap of realization across the fucking face that he couldn’t have gotten topside by himself. That someone had to get him from the hellscape to here. And of the able bodies in the Upside Down, no matter how strong the girls were, only one could have wrestled him through that gate. Only one could have…whatever he maybe needed, between this bed and that bat-strewn ground, it was, Steve would have been, he’d have—

The force his heart trips, then leaps with, is fucking cataclysmic. Eddie’s honestly surprised it doesn’t just tear out from his throat then and there.

“Plus they’re in the process of finishing the paperwork to make it all official, dropping the charges and all that, clearing your name,” Steve gestures vaguely in the air, like it’s all routine, the feds and the cops sweeping shit under the rug but then he remembers all the side comments he’d collected in the back of his mind these last few days about the ‘last time’ and then ‘the time before that’ and fuck all also the first time—

Maybe it is, just…sick and twisted and harrowing and heartbreaking routine.

“They’re just really fucking slow,” Steve smiles at him, all small and devastating and…

And okay, so that overwhelming urge to be a constant in Steve Harrington’s life, safe next to his heart kinda for always, zero to forever in half-a-blink?

Eddie knew he wanted, when he threw his vest at Steve’s bare chest more for Eddie’s own fucking sanity than anyone’s modesty, but it was all washed in the hopeless-helpless colors of desperation, of why not when I won’t see tomorrow; and now.

Now, all Eddie wants is tomorrow. Every tomorrow. No tomorrows without this man. Without what he saw, how it felt: what he knows in his marrow loving him would be.

It’s probably that conviction etching into his cells that makes makes him softer, a little weepy around the edges; drives him to need through the next words that escape:

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, wishes Steve were just that little bit closer so that the distance he can reach could reach him:

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Steve waves him off almost, like he doesn’t think everything he is, everything he’s done is monumental. Not just the cuffs but with the cuffs like the cherry on top of how Eddie would—will, if he’s given the chance—devote all that he has and all that he is to making Steve happy. To making him as calm and warm and loved as Eddie could feel in that bedroom, in his head or in the future or on death’s fucking door.

“I mean,” Steve starts, and Eddie can already feel how he’s angling to downplay the thing that’s only swelling, building, growing under Eddie’s own ribs and, well: no.

No, Eddie won’t be standing for that.

“Stevie,” and Steve’s gravitated wordless just close enough for Eddie to be able to brush his fingertips against Steve’s wrist, to curl and pull his hand into Eddie’s grasp, palm splayed above Steve’s knuckles, holding. Keeping.

“Thank you.”

And Steve stills a little, stares at him like he can see what’s tucked up tight and dear in Eddie’s chest and maybe he can, because his voice is feather-light and a little bowled-over. A little…a little awed.

“You’re welcome.”

So yeah, maybe he can see what’s in Eddie’s chest, less tucked in this moment now than fucking, like…

Blooming.

“Do you believe there’s anything waiting when we die?”

Eddie’s gonna blame the frantic blossoming warmth coursing through him for the way he blurts that shit out with no preamble, like maybe the flowering wonder of it all pushes it out without permission, sweet on the back of his tongue but heavy because it matters so much; because it’s all just nostalgia.

For now.

“What?” Steve gapes a little, sounds dumbfounded; maybe a little wary. Fearful.

His hand’s still held under Eddie’s, though, so it’s only natural the way Eddie lifts his fingers and presses them palm-to-palm like it means something.

“Do you?”

“I…don’t know,” Steve swallows hard enough the follow down the taut line of his throat, fucking mesmerizing.

So maybe the way Eddie licks his lips before he says anything more isn’t…isn’t just for the sake of the topic and its weight, is all he’s saying.

“I,” and Eddie doesn’t really know where he’s going, here, or else: he knows exactly where he’s going.

He’s just not totally sure the path he’s planning to chart along the way for getting there.

“When we were down there, and I was telling you to go after Wheeler,” which yeah, okay, surprise direction there, weird little detour, but…it doesn’t feel wrong.

Which means, if it’s right instead: then that’s everything that is Steve in Eddie’s lungs for breathing, in the chambers of his heart. So he leans into it.

Squeezes Steve’s fingers laced together with his.

“Eddie,” Steve starts, sounds tired, spent, and Eddie was never going to let that happen; no matter where he’s going, or leading them down the path of his revelations, the truth etched new but also deep in his bones like it was only waiting to be found and known.

“It was because that’s what I wanted. For me. I wanted to,” and his breath catches on a little chuckle, so light and choked and a little hysterical as he adds, giddy and a little bashful all together at once:

“Unambiguously, umm,” and he trails a little, wants to hide behind his hair just a touch but to do that would require a broader capacity to move in the first place and more, so much more: it would mean letting go of Steve’s hand.

So: absolutely not.

Especially not when Steve’s gone full dropped-jaw gaping at him, his fingers in Eddie’s grasp twitching like he’s confused, like maybe there’s part of him short-circuiting, and Eddie feels his exhales tremble when he finally blinks, finally tilts his head and takes Eddie in at a new angle before he asks, genuine and not just a little lost:

“Seriously?”

And Eddie…Eddie’s actually never been more serious in his life, so.

“Like,” and he circles Steve’s knuckles delicate-like with his thumb: “I wanted the chance, to try, I guess, yeah.”

And he doesn’t know if he’s risking everything to own it, even if he’s owning just a sliver of the breadth and depth that he feels, but he does know unequivocally that he wouldn’t hold it back if given the choice, the opportunity to do it over and not show his bloody-beating heart on display.

A bloody-beating heart that’s moving quicker, slamming harder against his chest but…that actually feels like the only correct thing it could do. Because this merits it.

This kinda is his whole fucking heart.

“Do you still?”

It takes Eddie a longer string of seconds than he’d prefer to own to, to process the words as having meaning, no matter that he doesn’t fucking understand what they’re aiming at.

“What?”

“Want,” and Steve’s the one squeezing Eddie’s hand now, turning a little to graze at the line of his veins at the wrist; “the chance.”

And he says it deceptively casual, despite how he’s staring at their hands, determinedly not meeting Eddie gaze as Eddie gets his chance at the gaping.

“Fuck yes,” Eddie finally huffs on something not unlike unabashed fucking joy, save that this thing he’s feeling is so much bigger, and when Steve looks up, meets his eyes and his own glimmer, shine so bright and brim with such disbelief, but so much stronger and with such hope, Jesus.

Eddie can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of him. Like his whole fucking soul gets shaped into a single breath of exultant delight.

And they both hold to one another, trace across skin and map the lines and dots and scars, and Eddie’s not stupid, he knows this isn’t how it works but…

But he’d still bet money on the fact that the way he’s touching Steve, so innocent and so quietly intimate, is healing his wounds, shoring up his weaknesses and stitching him up fuller, better, breath by shared-sacred breath.

It’s heady as fuck. It’s exquisite.

“Why’d you ask me about when we die?”

Steve’s the one to break the still, and even that’s not breaking anything, really; he speaks so soft. He’s stroking down from Eddie’s thumb back and forth.

It’s not breaking anything.

“I saw something,” Eddie whispers, not sure what reaction that’ll get, and Steve’s staring at their hands again, marveling really, so Eddie can’t read any hint save for the crinkled furrow in his brow.

“But you didn’t die.”

Which isn’t the reaction he thinks he expected, even if Eddie couldn’t name what he did expect. And it’s also not a revelation he thought he’d receive.

“Not at all?”

Because he’s genuinely surprised. He at least figured he’d flatlined like…long enough to have visions of absolute and total domestic bliss and shit.

But Steve’s shaking his head decisively, holding on to Eddie just a little bit tighter.

“You had a pulse, whole way to he hospital,” he tells Eddie, voice gone a little hoarse; “it wasn’t strong but,” and Steve looks up at him, and fuck, those eyes are too shiny now and Eddie doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want his Steve to hurt, he—

“I fucking held you,” Steve croaks and oh, oh he’s shaking, Jesus—

“I kinda,” and he swallows with a click Eddie can hear, around a throbbing pulse Eddie can see, wants nothing more than to soothe with his lips against that tender skin; “I kinda had to make sure, so,” and the hand that’s not holding Eddie’s comes up, trembling as he reaches toward Eddie’s chest:

“Kept my hand pressed, just,” and his voice gives, and he looks up at Eddie with something like devastation, begging something like permission because he doesn’t know that everything that Eddie is, is his.

But he will.

He will know.

“Yeah?” Eddie breathes out, holds Steve gaze as he nods, as he tries to make it clear that anything Steve needs is his, and then some.

It takes a second, but the shine in those eyes finally shifts, finally brightens and then Steve’s breathing’s made of tremors, but his hand finds Eddie’s chest and sends something sparking like lighting through him just as the whole of Eddie feels immediately like he’s home.

And Steve’s hand on his chest feels exactly like it did in their future bed, in their future room, in their future life.

Their always love.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, then takes a moment, palm splayed wide just above Eddie’s bandages, before he’s gripping Eddie’s wrist with the other hand a little harder:

“It’s so fast,” he exhales like it holds the whole world and then some; he wonders at just Eddie’s heartbeat under his touch and god.

God, but Eddie…Eddie couldn’t have imagined he’d ever feel like this. Let alone feel like maybe it’s mutual, maybe it’s real, maybe he can keep it and stay in this feeling for forever.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Eddie murmurs, then he chuckles, inhales deep maybe just to better feel the weight of Steve’s hand; “making up for the lost opportunity, y’know,” and fuck, all he wants is to be able to lean, to kiss the pout of those lips, to taste what it means to love somebody like he’s never done before.

“Making up for what it missed the last time your hand was there to feel it.”

And Steve’s hand above his thrumming heart twitches just a little, but never flags or makes to move, to leave, and Eddie thinks that he’d be fine if he lived the rest on his days with Steve like that, near enough that he could press a hand to Eddie’s heart at all times and just…just know that it’s his.

Because maybe it’s sudden—it’s definitely quick—but Eddie’s never known anything like he knows this.

“Eddie,” Steve finally whispers, a question and a claim and a means of cradling Eddie to his heart, somehow, for how swathed in light and affection Eddie feels in that moment, in just the shape of his name like it’s never been spoken before.

“I saw the future,” Eddie blurts out in a rush, breath coming a little quicker and heart-under-Steve’s-hand pounding harder. “Maybe. I don’t know, I mean, it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud but it felt so,” but then he looks into Steve’s eyes again and Steve is listening, Steve’s maybe doesn’t think he’s crazy, so he feels safe enough to say with his whole fucking chest:

“It felt real, Stevie.”

“What was it?” Steve asks, so quiet, so gentle like he doesn’t want to disturb this thing either, like he doesn’t need to hear it spelled out yet to know it’s delicate, the most important thing in the world, which fuck yeah it is, even as it cracks and chokes for the flood of feeling around it when it presses up from Eddie’s chest:

“Us,” Eddie breathes it out like the precious truth it genuinely fucking is:

“It was us.”

And Steve doesn’t say anything, but his eyes glimmer all the more, swimming with a riot of emotion to a degree than Eddie feels drowned in awe just to see it, and his hands on Eddie hold tighter, more fervent, devoted like a pledge for the way it runs through Eddie’s blood and sings in his veins:

“Even if it wasn’t real,” but Eddie’s doesn’t believe that, not really, not in his heart of hearts where it all pounds into the crevices that map Steve’s touch; “even if I wasn’t seeing the actual future,” and maybe he wasn’t, maybe that wasn’t their future, and maybe he’ll never know, but what he does know, is—

“It felt right, Steve.”

He knows that clearer than he knows the sky is blue.

“It was just a few minutes,” Eddie flounders a little, mostly because he remembers how good it was, written indelible into how much he wants, here and now:

“But I have never felt anything so right.”

He breathes, shaky and shallow and too fucking fast, but then Steve starts stroking his palm along the unmarked spaces of his chest, back and forth over the gallop of his heart like he means to stay there. Like he could ever want to keep.

“Well,” Steve whispers, his eyes on the path of his hand to make sure he doesn’t draw any pain—as if he ever could—until he knows the safe route over and back, again and again, and then he looks up, catches Eddie’s eyes and locks there, doesn’t pin so much as holds, holds, holds.

And good fucking god, Eddie feels it glisten through him like starlight; Eddie feels remade before Steve’s leaning in, lower than to meet Eddie’s mouth but then he’s pressing his lips to the dip between Eddie’s collarbones, holding there, breathing like he means to savor, like he means to cherish, like he means to, to…

To stay.

And Eddie’s heart’s under that hand and those lips all at once, wholly Steve’s while it quivers like a riot, while it leaps as Steve changes the world, writes their fucking future where his mouth drags wet and warm and ardent and there’s nothing in it at all that can be anything other than at least on the way to love as he breathes, fucking vows:

“We gotta try, then, don’t we?”

♥️

>>>also on ao3✨

for @penny00dreadful 🖤 still very fucking sorry it's this late

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divider credit here and here

[ma1dita]

love spells evol

wc: 1.7k summary: [sylus qin x reader based on nightplumes] there’s an ancient myth about seeing the first snow of the season with someone you (might) love; based on the crash landing on you k-drama plot a/n: here’s a gift after not being able to put any creative words to paper for months. fluff! kinda angst? title from evol by adrienne lenker

—

A myriad of colors reflect in your eyes as the night sky booms with color. Despite the noise, a peaceful silence occupies the space between you and Sylus at the Linkon riverwalk tonight, the wind swirling around you as if trying to push you closer. 

But you resist.

You can barely call him a friend, after all. 

You’re not sure if he’d let you even if you tried. The words roll around in your mouth— a confidant, perhaps? An ally, for sure at the very least. You’ve both come far from your initial faceoff with the big and bad Onychinus leader. Now, he’s just…. you still can’t find the right words. He’s not just anything to you—that, you’re sure of.

Right now though, he’s as still as a statue watching the fireworks display while you get knocked around by gusts of cold air. You bear down, grabbing onto his solid arm briefly, before realizing you’re tugging at the wool of his sleeve like a petulant child. So, you decide to hold onto the metal railing instead.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, still not looking at you. Sylus is almost picturesque under splashes of iridescent light as if an artist let loose to make a masterpiece of him. And you can’t do anything but watch, mesmerized by all of him, from the sweep of his silver hair, down the steep slope of his cheekbones, and the small smirk that always seems to surface when he’s about to taunt you.

“There she goes. Without even looking back. How ungrateful,” he jokes, lining up his pointer finger with your viewpoint so you can spot the feathered friend you imposed upon him days earlier. He’s gentle, you realize—- when he wants to be. Protective when it matters. Despite the chill that races up your spine, you feel warm huddled close to him, chin against his sleeve as you see your dove flap its wings in the sky, getting smaller as she flies away from Linkon. 

“Bye-bye, my dove. Do you think she’ll remember me?”

He looks down at you with something softer now, as you wave at the white speck in the sky, realizing that you’re nestled against his body heat. No matter how cold-blooded you say he is, his cheeks admittedly warm at your proximity to him. He clears his throat, finding his nerve as he says, “Well who would want to forget you, kitten?”

A smile spreads across your face before you realize it, instead, glancing at the flicker of sincerity that crosses his gaze. 

You catch him looking at you like this a lot when he thinks you don’t notice—like how someone tries to remember the melody of a song; subtly in broken parts and then intensely, all at once. Sylus’ stare is equal parts wistful and affectionate, if he would only let himself be caught by you—but at the last moment, right when your eyes catch a glimpse of garnet, he always looks away. 

“We could’ve gotten Mephisto a girlfriend,” you bite back a smile, and now he’s chuckling, eyes shut and turning away from you. He would never admit it anyway. There’s a part of him that stays locked where your hands still cannot reach. Like a hidden treasure you have to scavenge for. Maybe one of these days he’ll let you in on the secret. 

But you are nothing if not persistent.

“That’s impossible. You do know that Mephisto’s made of metal right? And your dove…is real. Down to the bone.”

“But he can feel, right? You programmed him to feel—I swear he laughs at me when I get lost at the base,” you reason. Your mitten prods at his side, wanting him to continue the banter. Only you can do this to him, and Sylus rolls his eyes almost grumpily because he knows it too.

“Dove,” he calls you, “They’re incompatible. It’s impossible for them to be together.”

Your brow furrows, “Can’t you pick already? Am I a dove or a kitten?” 

He doesn’t answer.

You’re everything.

“Ugh. But they were happy together. Right, Sylus?” you prod again, wanting to pull him back from wherever his mind has escaped to. Whenever you’re together, his focus is always on you, except in tiny moments where his eyes get glassy and contemplative, like he can see something you don’t. And then even when he’s next to you, he’s not fully there. Sylus goes somewhere far away, somewhere you could only dream to be. 

You wonder what he could be thinking of wherever he goes. 

He blinks, coming back down to reality and seeing the hope in your eyes. It tethers him more than the linkage you both unwillingly share. 

“Yes, they were. Even for a short moment.” 

A beat of silence passes again. It’s not uncomfortable at all, and you find yourself leaning against his bicep before something catches your attention. A white speck. Could your dove have come back? But there’s more of them, dotting the sky, falling slowly towards the both of you.

You gasp then, quite dramatically. 

It’s snowing.

“Oh no…” you sigh dreamily, cheek against his thick coat. Of course, this had to happen with Sylus here.

“What’s wrong? Are you cold, kitten?” Sylus pipes up, slinging an arm around to wrap your scarf around the base of your neck, up until it covers your head.

“Sylus!”

The sound of his laughter stokes the fire burning inside of you. It’s a nice, velvety tone. You think he should laugh more often, even if it’s usually at your expense. When you free yourself from the woolen trap, the softness hasn’t left his face.

“Is this the first snow? We’re in trouble…”

Your words confuse him a lot—sometimes he wonders if you do it on purpose, or if your words are intentionally reactionary. 

He’s never met a girl like you, ever. And he’s been around for a while. 

Sylus scoffs, poking at a puffed-up cheek, “Compared to everything we go through on the daily, Miss Hunter—I never thought you’d be scared of a little snow.”

“Am not! Just you know how the story goes…”

“Do tell,” he drones, remembering he shouldn’t be so… vulnerable in his actions towards you. His hand lowers back to his side like he’s burned himself. 

Can’t get ahead of yourself, Qin. Just a while back, she was repulsed by you.

But your face inches as close as it can towards his, hands on his chest and tippy-toes in the snow as you speak as if it’s a big secret no one else can find out about. Despite the fact that there’s no one else out on the riverwalk, your voice is hushed, “Well, there’s a story…actually, I think it’s a myth, that whoever you watch the first snow of the year with will be destined for great love.” Your eyelashes are dusted with snowflakes, and Sylus has to restrain himself from brushing them away. And then your mitten extends upward and pats his hair clean like it’s nothing of the sort. Taking a step away and falling back to your natural height, you chuckle listlessly, “But well, it’s not supposed to work between us anyway,” you sniff, stating it like fact, “I mean, with what we both do for work and all.”

Eyes falling closed, you take a deep breath in of frozen air.

“Yeah. We would never work. It’d be a mess.”

One eye snaps open to stare up at Sylus nodding to himself, hand scratching his neck as he looks off into the distance again. His expression is unreadable, and the weight in his throat feels like lead.

“Wait a minute. I said we wouldn’t work, but why would YOU say we wouldn’t work?”

It feels like walking into a trap. Or better yet, a minefield with a blindfold on. Sylus blinks, trying to navigate through this conversation and he’s still unsure of how you feel.

“You’re one of the good ones. The best hunter in Linkon City. And I’m…”

Where should we begin? A convicted criminal, most wanted in all of Philos, actually. THE bad guy, head of Onychinus, and the list can go on…

“---My friend.”

Blood red eyes meet yours in surprise, but you show no fear. Not then, and not now. He looks at you like he doesn’t believe you, but you dust fresh snow off the lapels of his coat even as it continues to fall. Honestly, you just need something to do with your hands.

“Sylus, you know I trust you with my life right?”

It’s hard to read you sometimes. You chastise him on his way of life and criminal activity, and he can’t tell if it’s because you take your job seriously, or out of concern for his wellbeing. He doesn’t answer, letting you continue, “I wouldn’t have resonated with you if I didn’t.” And his signature smirk creeps back onto his face, any previous softness gone as you watch him build his walls up. He doesn’t take kindness very well, and some can say he even reacts badly to it. Sylus Qin is a man who loves to be in control, and that’s the truth. But two things can be true at the same time—the other is that when he’s with you, he can relinquish all of it so easily. 

You set the pace. 

You call the shots.

“Sure, kitten,” he drawls, “be honest. You’ve just been dying to get rid of me.” Your body vibrates underneath the coat you have pulled tight around your waist, and from where Sylus is standing, he’s unsure of if he’s said the wrong thing until you look up at him again and the sound of your laughter catches up with the rest of you. Sticking your tongue out, you say, “You wish! You can’t get rid of me that easily, you crow!” He grins now, shaking his head and turning away to start walking back to the car, because with everything in him he hopes that’s true.

“Hey! Sylus, wait up! Your legs are too long!”

No matter which way you choose to look at him— friend, or foe, you find yourself falling slowly, just like the snow that settles upon Linkon City.

—

“Deep in my enemy I find the lover.” -Pierre Corneille

[freeuselandonorris]

16 (+18?) for max f/lando/oscar? same anon who was talking about hypno earlier, so. i would love some hypno in there, but no pressure!

cheating slightly and smashing together four similar prompts because i got nearly 40 requests lmao

so here for your enjoyment is a brief return to hypnoverse, in which max and lando invite oscar to use lando in his hypno bimbo state 💕

ngl i missed this ‘verse so i might potentially turn this into a proper sequel at some point We Will See

cw for hypno but it's all very consensual!

“Right, Bob,” Max says. He’s got good at sounding confident now, he thinks. Like he knows what he’s doing. Someone in charge. “You sure about this?”

Lando nods. Turns to look at Oscar.

Oscar’s looking a little like he’s secretly freaking out and trying not to show it, too. His eyes are very bright when he nods. Max tries not to feel too gratified by the way Oscar looks at him for direction. 

“Okay,” Max says, and claps his hands, wincing when he clocks Lando’s smirk. As if Lando doesn’t spend half his life performing to an invisible camera. “Oscar, mate, I’ve got the list of trigger phrases on my phone if you need a reminder.”

Oscar shakes his head. “I can remember them.”

“All right,” Max says, and looks at Lando, who’s pulled the sleeves of his pink hoodie over his hands, fidgeting. “Babygirl sleep.”

He’d been a bit worried that Lando might not respond to the triggers with someone else there. That he’d get self-conscious, or distracted, and Max would be left standing there like a tit, a magician dropping the deck of cards halfway through a trick. 

But Lando blinks, and his face slackens into a soft, dopey smile. Max breathes a sigh of relief. “Good girl,” he says quickly, and Lando sways on the spot as the trance deepens. Max doesn’t usually use two commands in quick succession like that; he wonders how it feels for Lando, who’s smiling in an unfocused way at a spot on the floor a few feet away, hands limp at his sides. 

Max’s cock stirs. He looks at Oscar. Oscar’s looking pretty hypnotised himself, staring at Lando with his lips slightly parted. 

“Go on, then,” Max says lightly. “He’s ready. You can do what you want with him.”

Oscar sucks in a breath, steps closer. He’s still staring at Lando with open fascination. When he reaches out and touches Lando’s face, Max’s gut twists pleasantly. He’d worried that he might be jealous, but all he feels is pride, like a kid in the playground showing off their shiniest toy. 

Oscar pushes two fingers into Lando’s mouth, and Lando closes his eyes and sucks blissfully. 

“Is he,” Oscar starts, and then clears his throat when his voice comes out in a croak. “Is he wearing the – what you said?”

“The cage?” Max says, just to watch the blush spread across Oscar’s face. God, it’s good, being the one in the know. His cock is so hard, and it’s not just from seeing Lando like this. “Yeah, ‘course. He wears it most of the time now, when we’re doing this. Helps him remember what he’s good for, doesn’t it, pal?” 

He addresses the last remark to Lando, who makes an indistinct sound in the back of his throat. Max smiles, raises his eyebrows at Oscar like they’re sharing a joke. What a slut, am I right?

“Babygirl strip,” Max says, and Lando moves to obey immediately, yanking his hoodie over his head. He’s told Max he doesn’t really need the uniform anymore, not now he’s so well trained, but Max likes it. “Slowly,” he says chidingly, when Lando grabs eagerly at the hem of his t-shirt. “Show yourself off for Oscar, come on.”

Oscar just about chokes at that, and Max can’t resist getting a hand on himself as Lando immediately course-corrects, turning to Oscar and pulling his t-shirt over his head teasingly slowly. Once it's off, he brushes over his nipples with the tips of his fingers, all wet mouth and lidded, blank eyes. 

He’s not wearing underwear under his jeans, and Oscar groans audibly when he sees the bubblegum pink of the cage around Lando’s soft cock. Lando doesn’t react, just carries on undressing himself, balancing carefully on one foot to peel his jeans off entirely. 

“No,” Oscar says suddenly, when Lando goes for his socks. “Leave them.” They’re white, pulled up to his calves, accentuating Lando’s smooth tanned skin. They do look good; Oscar’s got taste. 

“Good girl,” Max says, watching the pleased little shiver that ripples through Lando’s bared body. “Oscar thinks you look good. Show him the rest.” 

Without hesitation, Lando turns and steps his feet apart, bending down and spreading himself open so Oscar can see the pink furl of his asshole, waxed and still shiny with lube where he’s been wearing a plug all morning. 

“Oh my God,” Oscar says under his breath. 

Max’s own head is spinning, watching the two of them like this. He adjusts himself again. “Told you, mate.”

He hadn’t, not really. He’d texted back and forth with Oscar about it a bit – Lando hadn’t wanted to take part in the planning, save for messaging Oscar to confirm it wasn’t all some sort of elaborate prank for a particularly x-rated Quadrant video or whatever – but Max hadn’t really given him the full picture. How could he?

So he can forgive Oscar for looking a bit blindsided, now. He’s licking his lips, that unconscious tic Max has seen on the telly a thousand times over, rendered faintly sleazy now given Lando’s still stood in front of him with his legs spread and his arse on display. 

“I want–” Oscar says, trailing off awkwardly. “His mouth?”

He tips it up into a question at the end. Max gestures to Lando, still waiting patiently, giving no indication he can hear their discussion. “You’ll have to tell him, not me. He’ll stand there for hours otherwise. You remember the trigger phrase?” 

“God,” Oscar mutters again, like he really can’t believe what’s happening. He clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice is wobbly with nerves. “Lando. Erm – drop for cock.”

He stutters a bit as he says it. Instantly, with perfect grace, Lando turns to face him and drops to his knees. Eyes closed, mouth hanging open, tongue resting invitingly against his bottom lip. He waits like that, perfectly still, as Oscar fumbles his jeans open, more flustered than Max has ever seen him, and feeds his cock into Lando’s mouth. 

It’s hot, watching them, but more than that, Max feels proud. Lando’s sucking Oscar’s cock like he was made for it, nose brushing the trimmed hair on his lower belly, hands resting neatly on his thighs. Oscar’s staring down at him like he’s trying to commit the sight to memory, face flushed hectic red and his chest heaving. Lando’s making noises in the back of his throat as he sucks, eager little moans tucked in among the wet sounds of his mouth. He gags occasionally – Oscar’s not longer than Max, but he is thicker, and Lando's mouth is stretched wide around him – but he doesn’t stop the smooth movement of his head. He’s drooling, tears starting to trickle down his cheeks from the force of Oscar’s cock hitting the back of his throat.

“Careful,” Oscar gasps, hands hovering over Lando’s head as if he’s not sure whether to push him away and let him catch his breath.

“Leave him,” Max says sharply, and Oscar jumps like he’d forgotten Max was even there. “He’s fine.” 

He’ll be hoarse in all of his interviews tomorrow, but that’s all right. Something for Max to get himself off to in his hotel suite when he watches the press conference.

Oscar’s hands move to Lando’s hair, and for a moment Max thinks he’s going to pull Lando away anyway, but he doesn’t. Cradling Lando’s skull, he moves Lando’s head, adjusting the rhythm to something slower and deeper but no less difficult for Lando to take.

Max shoves his hand inside his joggers and watches, barely breathing, as Oscar slowly fucks Lando's mouth. Slow like he's savouring it, slow like he's worried he might never get to see Lando like this again.

Oscar doesn’t give much warning when he comes. His movements get a little faster, a little sloppier, the filthy sounds of Lando’s spit-slick mouth getting correspondingly louder. Otherwise, Max only realises Oscar's coming when his movements jerk to a sudden taut halt. Oscar buckles over as he holds Lando in place. He doesn’t moan or swear or anytthing, just exhales in sharp staccato gasps, fingers rubbing convulsively through Lando’s hair. 

It takes him a minute to straighten up again, carefully unwinding himself from Lando and easing him back with the hand still buried in his damp curls. Lando’s eyes stay closed, his mouth and chin wet with saliva and whatever remnants of Oscar’s come he hadn’t managed to swallow down. Even now, it’s still intoxicating for Max to see him like this, barely cognisant of what a mess he’s in. Even more so to see how much Oscar's enjoying it.

Oscar lets out a shuddering breath, tucking himself back into his boxers with one hand. He’s still petting absently at Lando’s hair, and Max thinks it’s sweet for a moment, until Oscar looks up at him, eyes narrowed in thought.

“Will he stay like this until we tell him to stop?” he says, giving Lando’s head a gentle shake.

Lando goes with the motion easily. Eyes still closed, mouth still open. His nipples are drawn up tight and peaked, betraying his unconscious pleasure even though the pink cage nestled between his thighs stops any kind of physical arousal.

“Yeah,” Max says, and takes his sticky hand out of his boxers. “For another hour or so, at least."

Oscar uses the hand he’s got in Lando’s hair to tip his head up, angled towards Max. He beckons with the other hand, and Max realises that he’s going to keep hold of Lando as he sucks Max’s cock, a pliant little puppet. Controlled by Oscar, for Max's pleasure.

“Well, then,” Oscar says, and smiles, flushed with fresh bravado. “Your turn.”

[ohithankyou]

after buck and tommy get back together, buck wants tommy all the time. unfortunately he can't spend every waking second with his boyfriend's dick in his various orifices, so he settles for the warmth of tommy's hand on his hip, occasionally slipping into his back pocket to cup his ass. he shoves his toes into tommy's thigh when they're on the couch together, luxuriating tommy's complaints about how cold his feet are. (if he's feeling bratty, he'll make a comment about how tommy was the one with cold feet - and he loves even more than he knows he can get away with that, that it won't scare tommy away.) he's spending nearly every waking moment he can with tommy, and when he's on shift and has downtime, he finds himself missing tommy. he texts him, but that's not enough; he wants to feel tommy's warmth by his side. something to remind him of tommy. he brings it up to tommy, confident enough now that he can tell tommy what he needs. tommy brings his hand up from where it's resting on buck's thigh to encircle his neck. he looks buck right in the eye when he tells him his idea. a week later, a package arrives in the mail. they open it together. there's one thick leather collar. black, because it's classic and it matches the bands around buck's arm, tommy tells him conversationally as he fixes it around buck's neck. buck feels his adam's apple scrape against it as he breathes and feels settled in his body. the second collar is chainlink, silver, with a single small o ring. buck wears his leather collar until it's time to go to on shift, when tommy unbuckles it for him and places the chainlink necklace on him instead. buck's chubbed up, knows he probably will be all twenty-four hours. he's got tommy on his mind and on his neck. he can wear him all the time.

OH my gosh. “he’s got tommy on his mind and on his neck. he can wear him all the time,” — is simultaneously incredibly hot and so romantic. and of course for buck, the collar is about being as close to as possible to tommy at all times — and that’s why tommy thought of the idea — but tommy also can’t lie and say that he doesn’t get turned on by the fact that his boyfriend has him around his neck in a way that could be noticed by someone else and potentially welcome questions. that people could know buck is his and only his even when they’re not together. i think this would really bring his possessive side out and buck would love every second of it.

[notpixl]

HSR Character Drabbles (Ft. The Stellaron Hunters & The IPC)

Had to change the title since like the realizing part is kind of restricting my headcanoning ahh and I want to just-

Your honor just kill me I just wanna write 🫠

GN!Reader as per usual

And if there was a Title to describe this whole bananza then it’s: What do they do when they’re in love with You?

But it feels… you know what? Just enjoy this mess.

Also! Established Relationships for Topaz and Aventurine. I would’ve gone insane by the time I had something for them that isn’t in the relationship phase…

—————

———

—————

Kafka

She’s “somewhat” clingy

Been like this ever since she’s laid her eyes on you

You just bring a… certain charm that makes her enamored

And this feeling soon devolved into something more…

I wouldn’t say worse but…

It reaches to the point where she cherishes every moment with you

Be it longer hugs

Her hands intertwined with yours at any chance she gets

Or a few more minutes just so she can lay in bed you a little bit longer (the whole one room one bed is orchestrated by her, of course)

You’re just…

Mm…

She just wants to be with you

Every second

Smile for her, will you? Just once? It’ll get her going

Silver Wolf

Holed up in her room

Otome games stacked beside her

Reading text at near light speeds as if it isn’t even difficult

And once she meets her own reflection from the end credits…

She concludes that it isn’t enough

…she wants everything to go right

Not to make an embarrassment of herself

It has her spiraling downwards and staying up for days until you’re told by Kafka to check in on her

Her eyes flutter open

Words of concern spill out of your mouth

She’s not even listening to you

Just…

Wondering if these hands on her shoulders are real or not

Thankfully she does get ahold of her senses and willingly heads to bed

Not before having more… thoughts

Damn can she be just normal for once-

Tip for Boss: Give her a hug

Blade

Sort of good news…?

He’s in love

Bad news?

He’s in love

He goes to such lengths in distancing himself from you, often taking missions that’ll definitely take a month or two to finish…

It’s only when Elio and Kafka step in with these countless missions that he begrudgingly takes in your presence again

Though… some part of him appreciates your company

Even if one day you…

Well…

Let’s just ignore that for a second

All that matters now…

Is that you’re here

Side note: Ruffle his hair at least once or twice a week.

Pretty please.

Firefly

She’ll be fine she says!

Cues to her trying to get a grip of everything the moment you wave at her

Firefly is… a mess to put it at words

Girlfailure if you will

From spacing out just by calling her name or her brain needing a reboot when you hold her hand

Heck, even Kafka and Silverwolf are teasing her about this!

But… she isn’t afraid to improve

Because one day

She’ll have the courage to…

To ask if you’re fine with eating cake rolls with her…

…

Doesn’t that just sound like a date-

Fun fact: She will stay still as a rock if you lay your head on her shoulder. Use this for whatever you want

Aventurine

Countless paper bags scattered across thr living room

You don’t deny these gifts of course it’s just…

You know

You’re not used to this

This amount of…

Appreciation

So, who would’ve thought that one day…

He decides to visit you!

Without warning!

…How did he even know your addre-

Right, your wallet…

That aside he’s just…

Standing there

Processing what’s in front of him right now

“…do you want more?”

“Wh-what?”

“Do you want a mansion instead?”

“Navi, can you get ahold of yourself please-

Call him nicknames. Makes him a tomato.

Topaz

Lap Pillows

And also Numby laying on your tummy

This has been an occasional thing whenever the weekend comes by

There’s also a switch in roles! And it happens quite often during weekdays when she comes home from work

Which lets you pepper her with kisses, leaving her a blushing mess afterwards

She’ll also fake getting sick just so she can be enveloped by your lovey dovey hugs just a bit longer

Though that always ends in her grumpily heading back to work…

“I miss my S/O, Numby…” She says as she closes the front door

Tip: If you kiss her then keep kissing her then make out and head to fourth base did you know she’ll be really needy an

Dr Ratio

After countless research and conducting…

Does he finally come up with a solution

…

A change in attitude

His rather… harsh demeanor would only lead to distancing yourself from him

Which explains itself very well in not having a chance at expressing his feelings for you

…but he’ll do what he can

Big or small

So long as you see him…

The way he sees you

Then writing this Thesis about Love isn’t so bad after all

I.E. Dr. Ratio turns soft for your sake and everyone else’s

…

“What’s this?”

“Tea. I thought you might need it for the gargantuous amount of paperwork.”

“Thanks… are you sure you aren’t possessed?”

“Why the assumption…?”

“You’re smiling.”

…

….

…

Yell at me if I did something bad for anyone in thi sob drabble :(

And that if this gets more than eleven likes I will have to acknowledge the fact that people like this

[peachhcs]

Can you do a lil blurb of Sammy and will still crushing on each other even though they’ve been in a relationship for a while now (like from the start of it to now). Like they still get memorized by each other to this day and it’s just too cute

waittt yesss samy and will still have such a “honeymoon” stage relationship and are always trying to find ways to “wow” one another because they’re just both so in love with one another. like it’s such a playful relationship of continuously crushing on one another and being shocked that they even pulled one another still ahaha

(btw i just got back to school which means i won’t be as active but i promise i see all of your requests!!! i’m posting this to hold you all over until i can get to them :))

au masterlist

when samy got a text from will earlier that day telling her to dress up when he got back from practice because he had something planned, she couldn’t deny the little skip her heart did reading the text nor the smile on her lips.

it was the way he wrote it and added a bunch of cute little emojis that made her swoon just a little bit. he had practice today, so say busied herself doing things in downtown san jose. she was starting to become a regular and a pro at navigating the city without will. now, she wondered what exactly her boyfriend could have going on him his mind that wanted her dressed up.

samy got back to the house and searched her suitcase for something that screamed “dressed up.” she never usually packed a lot, only really trying to stick to basics, so she was struggling and believing that what she packed wasn’t dressy enough. samy should’ve known will would do something like this.

with what she had, the soccer player threw together something that she hoped met what will had in mind. the long, pink satin skirt fell to her ankles and sat at her hips and the white crisscrossed tank top that hugged her midsection and left her lower stomach open screamed dressy enough. at least the floor length satin skirt was dressy. the girl stood in the bathroom touching up her makeup when her phone buzzed again and her boyfriend’s name lit up the screen.

WILL <3

when you’re ready come outside :)

she smiled at his message, hurrying to finish her mascara and add a touch more of lip gloss. samy stuffed her purse with her essentials, shoved her feet into her sands wedges, and then headed down the stairs to the front door where will supposedly was. her stomach was doing little somersaults as she pulled open the door and her eyes widened when she saw will dressed in a nice button down and shorts leaning against his car holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. samy’s cheeks heated up as she slowly descended down the steps.

“hi,” the blonde grinned, eyes drinking in her outfit and his own cheeks heated up seeing how pretty she looked.

“will, what is this?” samy grew confused when he handed her the beautiful blue, purple, and pink flowers. she smelled them, the scent of fresh flowers filling her senses.

“just a little something for my girl,” the hockey player hummed, snaking his hand around her waist and thumbing the open skin on her hip.

“you’re so sweet. these are gorgeous,” she beamed, leaning up to peck his lips.

“get in, there’s more surprises,” will urged which just made samy even more confused, but she hurried around to the other side to climb in.

“what do you have planned?” she giggled catching the glint in the boy’s eyes and his mischievous grin.

“you’ll see. it’s a surprise,” will argued.

they rolled out the driveway and will wouldn’t say anything else, so the girl was left to wonder until they got to their destination. the hockey player reached his right hand over to squeeze her thigh, a soft smile on his lips. samy quickly latched their fingers, squeezing back and looking over to admire how good will looked. his curls were a bit damp from the shower he took after practice, but they were the perfect amount of wet and dry that they fell perfectly on his head samy just wanted to reach out and touch them, but she didn’t because will probably styled them just how he wanted them. instead, her heart fluttered again when he began rubbing his thumb across his hand.

it was a small gesture, but it was one that made samy giddy with excitement still anytime will did it. she felt like such a teenager on her first date right now with the unknown of not knowing where it was or what it was, but the butterfly nerves both of them were feeling and sharing.

when they got on the main drag and will started driving in the direction of santa cruz, she guessed it had something to do with the beach because why else would they go to santa cruz? she kept trying to find his eyes and get him to drop a hint, but will was really good at keeping his face set and secrets in.

“how was practice?” samy broke the silence because she still wanted to talk to will and hear his voice after not seeing him all day.

“it was good. we ran some plays and did a few technique practices,” the boy explained and the girl smiled.

“feeling ready for the game tomorrow?”

“i think so, yeah. it should be a good game,” will agreed which was the first time he’s said that in awhile, so samy was glad to hear that. she let him know that by squeezing his palm.

“what about you? how was your day? buy anything cute?” will turned the conversation to her and she flushed.

“it was good. i walked around downtown and just window shopped. i didn’t buy anything. i don’t know if i have money to buy anything right now,” the girl admitted with a laugh.

“if you saw something, tell me and i’ll buy it for you,” will was quick to cut in and her face flushed

“will, i can’t ask you to do that.”

“then don’t ask, i’m already doing it,” he beamed and the girl just rolled her eyes playfully. it would be a miracle if will had any money left after spending all of it on her.

“well, i didn’t really see anything i wanted, so you’re in the clear for now,” the youngest hughes joked.

“you act like it’s a burden for me to buy you things,” the blonde rolled his eyes back.

“don’t forget our roots. you never would’ve bought me something willingly when we were 12,” samy teased with a small chuckle. younger samy and will were such enemies back then, it was hard to believe this was how they were now.

when they pulled into the parking lot samy wondered what will was getting from the back that she wasn’t supposed to look at yet. she stood away from the car like will instructed just waiting for him to tell her what they were doing for the night. she couldn’t lie about the excitement bubbling in her system because will had always been the best at planning these little surprises.

“okay, you can look,” will said and samy spun around.

her boyfriend had a picnic basket slung on his arm, a beach blanket, and a bottle of wine in his hands. the girl’s eyes widened as a large smile crept its way to her lips.

“oh my god, will,” she gushed and the blonde just loved seeing that smile on his girlfriend’s lips.

“how do you feel about a sunset picnic on the beach?” he grinned back.

“i love you,” samy reached up to place a sweet kiss to his lips before letting him lead them down to the warm sand.

luckily, it wasn’t too crowded as they found a spot far away enough that the tide wouldn’t get them wet. samy watched as will opened the basket and pulled out two wine glasses and then the entire grocery store—he seriously must’ve bought all of the pastries, deserts, and appetizers.

“where’d you even get all of this stuff?” samy wondered as she helped lay it out around them.

“the basket is christina’s. i pitched the idea to her last night and she was very much on board. the beach blanket is mack’s. i got the food at the grocery store after practice,” will beamed feeling pretty proud of himself for doing this and it really was worth it to see the smile on samy’s lips.

“and the wine?” she raised her eyebrow.

“eklund.”

“ah, makes sense. well, this is really sweet, will. you wow me,” the girl giggled.

“you wow me too. thought we could have a little date since it’s been so busy lately and i probably won’t see you for awhile after this,” will admitted and a soft smile fell on both of their lips.

they dug into the food and the wine. for being best friends their whole lives, they never seemed to ever run out of things to talk about. samy and will talked about everything and anything while they ate and got (mainly samy because will had to drive home eventually) somewhat wine drunk. they talked about college and everything samy didn’t tell will over facetime. will talked about his teammates and if he could assign them a shred character who would they be. they talked about next summer and where they think they’d be besides the lake house. samy teased will about how much the fans loved his and mack’s friendships and how she was getting replaced (no one could ever replace samy in will’s mind).

by the time they covered all of their bases, two hours had passed and the food was nearly all gone. the sun was almost all the way set below the horizon for the night, but the lights from the town above kept the beach lit for them.

samy was laying on will’s chest. her head found a place over his heart where she listened to its steady rhythm. will’s arm was hooked securely around her waist, still thumbing the open skin between her skirt and shirt. now they were just admiring the starts starting to come out as the sky grew darker and the sun disappeared. it was so perfect.

“did i tell you how beautiful you look?” will mumbled making samy look up at him. he peered down at her while she peered up at him, a soft smile finding its way to her lips.

“you may have mentioned it,” she stroked her thumb over his chest where some of the buttons on his shirt were undone and exposed his toned muscles.

“well, you look really beautiful. you had me speechless when i saw you come out,” the hockey player said making samy blush from the bottom of her neck to the tips of her ears. those compliments would always get her no matter how many times will said them.

“you’re just saying that,” she mumbled.

“i’m not. you make me speechless a lot,” the blonde mumbled.

“you make speechless too. you look pretty handsome yourself. i didn’t know you had these clothes hiding at practice,” she half joked.

“i grabbed them before i left. been thinking about being here with you all day,” will used his other hand to thumb some of samy’s loose strands of hair away from her face.

they gazed into one another’s eyes as the moment closed in around them and it was just samy and will in their own little world.

“how’d i get so lucky?” samy muttered quietly.

“you tell me. how’d i get so lucky?” the boy echoed her words.

“would you have guessed we’d start dating when we were 12?” the girl giggled and will rolled his eyes lightly.

“you’re back to this huh?”

“i’m just saying. we hated each other so much when we were 12 and now we’re confessing our love to one another on a beach,” it just made samy laugh that this ended up being their fate even though she would never ask to change any of it.

“i mean i did have a crush on you when were 12, so it’s not that far off,” will shrugged with a small smile.

“what? you did?” this was news to the soccer player.

“i mean we were 12 and like having those weird phases and moods where we were first developing feelings..i don’t know, but yeah kind of. maybe that was why i was so mean to you because i didn’t know why i was feeling that way towards you. it eventually faded obviously until we got older,” the blonde laughed.

“wow, i didn’t even know that. i just genuinely disliked you.”

“alright,” will mumbled, but samy pushed herself up to peck his lips.

“i couldn’t imagine anything different though. i love you so much,” the brunette beamed. god, will loved that smile so much, especially when he was the cause.

“i love you a lot, samy. you’re my girl forever,” he wrapped both arms around her torso and held her ad close as he could even though they were already as close as they could be.

“you’re mine forever,” she kissed his chest before turning her gaze back to the stars that were now shining brightly above them in all their glory.

[nordax]

burning, yearning need to bleed

baby's first iwtv fic, let's fucking go

armand/daniel, mirror sex, a hand job, biting, a lot of blood and a healthy side of masochism. wc: 4k

ao3

inspired by the gorgeous, incredible, breathtaking art by the lovely @ladyofthecreeddraws

It starts, like it often does, with three simple, little words. I wanna see.

And Daniel is morbidly curious in every aspect of his life, both personal and professional, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that he wants to watch Armand sink his fangs into his neck and feed from him. He’s always following so closely, so intensely, as Armand slices his own wrist open with his claws, watches the blood rush to the surface and out of the wound, down along his skin, and into Daniel’s waiting mouth, and Armand attributed that to addiction, or to Daniel’s fascination with tearing things open and seeing how they work, pulling secrets free through clenched teeth. Personally and professionally.

And he whispers those words into Armand’s curls, and he looks at Armand with those pretty eyes, pupils blown wide, high on the vampire’s blood, and begs to see.

Armand offers to bite into Daniel’s wrist so that he may see, or his thigh, and the boy refuses point blank, says it won’t be the same, that it won’t be right. He’s erratic, eyes wild, grabbing two handfuls of Armand’s shirt and pulling him close, impossibly close, clinging to him, hiding his face in the brook of Armand’s neck. Bites at him, with his dull human teeth, for good measure. I need to see. 

--

So, here they are, with Daniel perched on Armand’s lap, his back flush to Armand’s chest, and they’re sitting on an armchair in front of a large, ornate mirror. Daniel had asked if Armand bought it just for this occasion and Armand scoffed, mumbled something about the vastness of his antique collection, and they both know he procured it specifically for this, for Daniel.

Daniel is all nervous energy, amped up from his usual restlessness, fidgeting and squirming in Armand’s lap. They look good, Armand thinks as he watches their reflection. He is still fully clothed, in his blazer and slacks, hair neat and styled, and Daniel is naked, hair still tousled from sleep, from when Armand practically dragged him out of bed for this. Daniel’s legs are on either side of Armand’s, spread open and displaying his soft cock, and it’s a pretty sight, the stark contrast of them like this, and made even prettier by Daniel seeing himself much like Armand sees him, stripped bare and so ready to be told what to do, bathed in the dim golden shine of the bedroom lights.

“Are you going to be good?” Armand asks, lips brushing against the shell of Daniel’s ear. Daniel shivers with it, with excitement and desire and curiosity. Armand resists the urge to touch, keeping his hands still on the armrests, seemingly relaxed, as if unaffected by the sight in the mirror, on his lap, all around him. Daniel knows him well by now, would notice the effort in keeping himself from touching Daniel, if he wasn’t so riled up, so deep in his own head.

“Yes”, Daniel finally says, breathes it out like a promise, emphasizes it by nodding enthusiastically. And usually he’s very good, even without being explicitly asked, and Armand has never been particularly good at denying Daniel anything he wants. This, though? For this, he might need to be taught a lesson in patience first.

“What do you want, beloved?” Armand asks, nosing along Daniel’s hairline behind his ear and down the back of his neck. Daniel tries to arch into it, to turn his head and offer the side of his neck closer to Armand’s mouth, and that’s not how good boys behave, trying to shortcut straight to the reward. Armand dances his fingers up along Daniel’s arm and across his shoulder, up to the base of his neck, brushing his hand through the messy curls and grabbing a handful, pulling down hard. A little too hard, if he’s honest with himself, but the sensation seems to go straight to Daniel’s dick, and he has no way to hide it from Armand here, like this.

“I do believe I asked you a question”, Armand says, and he has Daniel’s head tilted back to an uncomfortable angle, pulled down against his shoulder, throat open and exposed, and yet there are no complaints in the boy’s mind, just the calming static of pain, of Armand.

“I want to see”, Daniel whispers, eyes rolling back in his head as Armand tugs on his hair once more before releasing him. There’s a faint blush on Daniel’s cheeks, spilling down his neck and chest, and his cock is already filling out. Armand watches him study their reflection, tilting his head like it will somehow make a difference in the image in front of him.

“Look at you”, Armand starts, bringing his hands to both sides of Daniel’s neck, holding his head still, thumbs rubbing circles behind his ears. He feels the way the boy’s whole body shivers, how he goes a little breathless and his cock jumps at the thought of Armand’s long, slender fingers wrapping around his throat, squeezing, holding his life in his hands. “So fucking desperate, you’re already hard. Could you cum like this, for me, without ever having your pretty little cock touched?”

Daniel eats up his words like he’s starving, forced to watch their reflection, and his eyes are dark, hungry, darting around until they meet Armand’s. He looks so gorgeous, so ready to be ruined in Armand’s hands, and please, Armand, pleasepleaseplease is echoing in his head.

“Use your words, beloved”, Armand purrs, lips ghosting over Daniel’s ear, sucking at the bottom of his earlobe and Daniel whines, flexes his hands where they’re sitting neatly atop his thighs, and he’s being so good, not touching himself even when that wasn’t specifically asked of him. Maybe there is hope, then, that he will behave well enough for his rewards, and learn this little lesson in patience. A little mean, perhaps, but he knows how Daniel enjoys that, letting Armand unravel him and then put the pieces back together, to carve open his chest over and over again, make himself a home there, nestled between his fourth and fifth ribs, mirroring his heart.

“I want to watch you feed from me”, Daniel says, words coming out slowly, deliberate. Like he knows the weight of them, wants to watch them sink into Armand. His eyes are intense, determined where they meet Armand’s again through the mirror, and he nods, slides his fingers down along Daniel’s throat, finds the point where he usually bites, below his ear, near his jugular vein. Armand presses down with one single claw, lets it dig into the skin but doesn’t break it, and goosebumps spread all around it, like ripples in water after a stone is tossed in. With his other arm, Armand braces the boy against himself, wraps it tightly around him.

“Here?” he asks, circling the spot and Daniel lets out a breathless moan, turns his head to give Armand better access, and Armand slides his hand around to cup his jaw, squeezing until he can feel Daniel’s teeth through the flesh of his cheeks where they dig in, and Daniel moans with it, arching his back and clawing at the arm anchoring him against Armand. “Be good for me, beloved.”

It’s not a suggestion, or a plea. It’s an order.

Or what? Daniel thinks as Armand’s hand finally slips from his jaw, settles back around his throat. His thoughts are so loud, with that lopsided smile and cocked eyebrow, head tilted again, that Armand doesn’t need the mind gift to figure out that the boy is asking, begging for trouble. Or punishment.

“Out loud, please”, Armand reminds him. “I want to hear from you tonight.” Want to witness you fall apart, just for me. Because of me. 

Daniel nods slowly, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with arousal, with lust, and takes a few deep breaths. Armand revels in the feeling of the muscles of his throat working against his palm, the flex of tendons under his hand, the steady stream of blood pumping right underneath his fingertips.

He could tear open the boy’s throat with his claws and play in all of the blood that spills out of him, paint a portrait of him with it, of them, all over the floor and the walls; paint a mural of their past all across the ceiling, and it still wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t soothe the ache that’s settled somewhere far too deep in his bones. He could pour the blood back in the boy, clean up his wounds and heal them, only to sink his fangs into the boy’s neck to drain him again, and Daniel would thank him, would appreciate that, because he loves the sight of his blood running down the sides of Armand’s mouth and down the column of his throat, and Armand has never been a messy eater, but for Daniel? Anything. Everything.

Sometimes, he thinks, it would be easier to just kill the boy and be done with it. Tear out his still beating heart, his bleeding heart, as if Daniel wouldn’t give it to him willingly, and watch the light drain from his eyes. Watch him down in his own blood, rather than watch him hungrily lick the drops of Armand’s blood from his skin, watch him smile with his teeth stained red and his pupils blown wide, and kiss him and lick the taste of his blood from the boy’s mouth.

And Armand opens his mouth and lets his fangs drop, and Daniel shivers, shakes with it, hands squeezed tightly around the arm that’s tethering him to Armand, to this moment, and his eyes are fixated on Armand in their reflection. On his mouth, on his fangs, and how the tips of them shine in the low light, almost like how sunlight reflects off of water, and the intensity of Daniel’s gaze borders on too much. His thoughts, too, the desperate thrum of need, and the overwhelming idea that Armand looks beautiful like this, that he looks beautiful with his jaw unhinged and fangs out.

“Please”, Daniel says, begs, pleads, fingers digging into Armand’s skin where he’s holding on impossibly tight, and not for the first time, Armand wishes Daniel possessed the strength to bruise him. His touch burns, feels like a brand, and it never stays long enough to settle the itch under his skin. “Armand, I need-”

The words die in Daniel’s throat as he lets Armand tilt his head back and to the side, and then his fangs are scraping against his skin, teasing, tickling. Daniel is practically vibrating in his lap, and somewhere in the back of Armand’s mind, there’s a faint echo of patience, of teaching a lesson, and then he finds the spot he dug his claw into earlier and bites, letting just the tips of his fangs pierce the boy’s skin and he forgets everything except the hitch in Daniel’s breath, the heady scent of arousal hanging heavy in the air, and the sweet taste of blood rushing into his mouth, the tinge of Daniel’s sweat. 

It’s a superficial wound, just a tease, and when he pulls away, Daniel whines.

“How does it feel?” Armand asks, lifting his eyes to meet Daniel’s in the mirror. “Tell me, Daniel.”

And he leans down again, tongue darting out to lick at the little droplets of blood rapidly drying on Daniel’s skin. Daniel arches into the touch and hisses as Armand sucks on the marks on his skin, trying to coax more blood to the surface, but the wound is too shallow, and yet the little noises Daniel makes are far more satisfying than any blood could ever be.

“It stings, a little”, Daniel says finally and takes in a deep breath, all stuttery on the inhale. “Doesn’t hurt though. Tickles.”

Armand hums, and Daniel makes a choked sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh, and then Armand slots his fangs into the wounds again and Daniel’s whole body tenses up. Armand bites down slowly, revels in the way Daniel’s pulse picks up, in the warmth radiating from his body and the twitch of his fingers on his arm, the wetness seeping into his slacks from Daniel’s leaking cock. His fangs sink into the boy’s neck inch by inch, and it’s agonizing and it’s euphoric; the slow sink into Daniel, the warmth flooding into his mouth and trailing down the sides of his mouth, down along Daniel’s skin because he’s still hovering over him instead of biting down fully, and the waver in Daniel’s voice makes his head spin a little.

“Burns, like… Like how they always talk about that hot, white flash of pain in books and movies, yeah? Feels fucking good. And the stretch, fuck, Armand.”

The rest of Daniel’s words turn into a garbled moan as Armand’s mouth finally slots against his skin, and he fits there perfectly, the curve of his lips against Daniel’s neck, and he drives his fangs as deep as they’ll go, and Daniel is panting, cursing and pleading, and Armand sucks hard, fills his mouth with blood and then he has to pull back again, he has to, he needs to see. 

Daniel looks defiled. Mesmerizing. Debauched. Gorgeous.

He’s flushed all over, the blush spilling down his neck and chest, reaching all the way up to his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and his lower lip is swollen and red, like he’s been biting on it. There are two less than neat puncture wounds on his neck, and the skin around them is a blotchy red, from Armand’s mouth, and there’s blood trailing down, down along his neck and pooling in the little dip above his collarbone and threatening to spill over. He’s squeezing onto Armand’s arm with his knuckles white, and his cock is beautifully hard and leaking precum between his legs, curved up towards his stomach.

Armand swallows, finally, and meets Daniel’s eyes through the mirror.

“How do you feel, beloved?” he asks, dipping his fingers in the blood pooling on Daniel’s collarbone and sending it pouring down further, over his chest and down his stomach. The wound on his neck is still bleeding, slowly but steadily.

“Good”, Daniel manages, and his eyes keep drifting from Armand’s to his own neck, and he would need to crane his neck and turn his head to see properly, but yet he’s sitting perfectly still, in the position Armand arranged him into. Armand drags his hand down Daniel’s front, smearing the blood as he goes, and somewhere between cupping his pec and circling his navel before settling on the curve where his thigh meets his groin, Daniel stops breathing. He holds his breath as Armand paints the blood across his skin, down to his inner thigh, tracing along where his femoral artery lies under his skin.

“Look at you”, Armand says, hand coming up to wrap around Daniel’s dick, and the noise Daniel makes should be recorded, should be pressed into a vinyl so that he might keep it forever, and listen to it over and over again. “What a gorgeous mess.”

He gives Daniel a few slow strokes, fingers wrapped too loose around him, and the remnants of blood mix into the precum leaking steadily from the head of Daniel’s cock. A sloppy, wet mess that is threatening to ruin one of Armand’s favorite pair of trousers, and he could command Daniel to stand up, to clean up the mess he’s made, to get down on his knees and lick Armand clean, and he would obey happily, but something here feels too precarious, too precious to disturb.

Perhaps the way Daniel can’t seem to catch his breath, how he’s desperately rutting into Armand’s hand and still clinging to the arm Armand has draped around his torso, holding him tightly in place. Or the scent of his blood, trickling down his body, and the sight of them, the shine in Daniel’s eyes in the mirror, the sheen of sweat on his forehead and it’s too much, it’s entirely too much, Daniel’s spread legs and his pretty cock in Armand’s hand, his blood everywhere around them, on them. Too much, and not enough. Never enough.

Daniel whines at the loss as Armand pulls his hand away, and then pries Daniel’s fingers off of his other arm. He places his free hands on Daniel’s hips, and wants to squeeze, to push his claws into the soft flesh and tear him apart, pulling him into pieces.

“Up”, he says instead, and his voice sounds uncertain, hoarse even to his own ears. Daniel scrambles off his lap, knees a little unsteady for a moment. “Towards the mirror.”

And Daniel is good, so good, and he steps closer and closer and Armand follows, eyes never leaving their reflection. There’s something intoxicating about watching himself approach Daniel, a predator stalking up to its willing victim, the sacrificial lamb holding a knife to its own throat.

Armand presses up against Daniel, an arm’s length from the mirror and takes Daniel’s hands in his, places them against the glass. And if there’s a tremor in his hands as he glides them back down along Daniel’s arms before releasing him, neither one of them say anything about it.

“Spread your legs for me, beloved”, he says and Daniel nods, scoots his feet apart until Armand hums in approval. He tears his eyes away from their reflection only to be able to study Daniel. This close, he can see the bruise forming right under the bite mark on Daniel’s neck, and the knowledge of that buzzes pleasantly under his skin. He follows the freckles and marks on Daniel’s skin down along his back to the soft curve of his ass, finds his hands on Daniel’s hips again, pulling him closer, impossibly close. 

He nuzzles along Daniel’s hairline at his neck, behind his ear, licks at his skin to taste his sweat and trails down, down, down to the wound. It’s no longer bleeding but it’s still open, raw and red and abused, and there’s never been much self-restraint for Armand when it concerns Daniel.

Please, Armand. I need it, do it.

Daniel looks pained, almost, as he silently begs for Armand and his brow is furrowed in a way that always spells out trouble in one form or another, and he’s biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, and maybe that’s what he’s aiming for, maybe that’s what he needs.

“Out loud, please”, Armand whispers, lips ghosting against Daniel’s skin, and there’s a pause, and a flicker of something in Daniel’s eyes Armand can’t quite figure out before he swallows and takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut.

“Armand. Bite me.”

And maybe he meant it as a slight, meant to have some bite to it, but it comes out more like a prayer.

“Look at me, beloved.”

Daniel’s eyes open just in time to see Armand’s fangs sink into his skin again, slow and intentional, letting blood rush to the surface and spill down Daniel’s neck before his mouth closes over the wound and he settles there, pressing his body against Daniel’s, one hand still in a bruising grip on his hip while he wraps the other one around Daniel’s dick, squeezing hard at the base. Daniel’s body is hot against Armand, and he can feel the warmth even through his clothes, and Daniel whines and begs, sweaty hands slipping on the glass of the mirror but he keeps his position, keeps his eyes open, keeps watching Armand feed from him.

How does it feel? Tell me. 

Silence follows, and it takes a moment, an eternity for Daniel to get his mouth working, and Armand keeps his fangs embedded in Daniel’s neck. It’s inefficient, and there’s a dull ache in the joint of his jaw, but the pleasure radiating from every inch, every iota of Daniel is enough to keep him like this for however long he must. Daniel opens his mouth and nothing comes out, and he closes it again with a frustrated sigh. Armand strokes his cock languidly, gathering the precum pearling at the tip and spreading it all over before slotting the edge of his claw into the slit at the tip, and Daniel’s hips buck up into it, involuntarily.

“Fuck”, he breathes out and Armand’s hand is back at the base of his cock. “Hurts, fucking… Feels good. The pain feels distant, like it’s an old wound or a scar that aches when the weather gets bad. Radiates through my whole body, and it’s hard to tell where it stops and you start. Feels like if you move, I’ll cum.”

Armand hums against Daniel’s skin, and his cock jumps in Armand’s hand.

My hand, or my mouth?

Daniel chokes out a laugh, and it jostles Armand just a little, and he can feel his fangs tearing further into the boy’s skin, into his flesh. He gives Daniel’s cock a few strokes, faster and tighter this time, and it’s awkward angle but Daniel’s knees almost buckle under him, and Armand is sure his fingerprints are etched into the boy’s hip by now.

“Either. Both. Armand, please, I need… you”, Daniel says, and there’s an edge of despair in his voice that sinks deep into Armand, settles somewhere near the pleasure coiling tight at the bottom of his stomach, licking up the base of his spine.

And he gives the base of Daniel’s cock one more squeeze before letting go, earning him a high whine, and he brings his hand up, watching as realization dawns on Daniel, and his eyes go wide and his pupils are blown so wide he looks like he’s experiencing the best high of his life, and then Armand dislodges his mouth from Daniel’s neck and spits into his own hand, trailing blood and drool down Daniel’s shoulder as he does so.

Daniel’s legs are trembling as Armand’s hand wraps around his dick again, and he sets a slow pace. It’s messy and sloppy, and not quite what Daniel likes, but he still unravels beautifully in Armand’s hands, breath catching in his throat as Armand’s tongue darts out to lick at his neck again, gathering up the blood and swallowing what he can, laying his tongue flat against Daniel’s skin and licking long stripes along his jawline and back down, and when he twists his wrist and rubs his thumb over the slit of Daniel’s dick, the tip of his tongue circles the puncture wound, dips in, and Daniel comes with Armand’s name dying on his lips.

Armand holds him up even as his knees buckle, and strokes him slowly through his orgasm, following the heave of his chest through the mirror as Daniel tries desperately not to float away. His cum paints the mirror, and slides down along it, and absentmindedly Armand wonders if Daniel would allow him to take photographs of him like this.

“Was I good?” Daniel slurs, head lolling back against Armand’s shoulder, a wide, spent smile on his face. Armand hums, and Daniel lets himself be turned in Armand’s arms, hides his face instinctively against the hollow of Armand’s throat, hands squeezing into fists in Armand’s coat.

“Yes, Daniel, you were very good”, Armand muses and takes a tentative step backwards, towards the bed on the other end of the room. Daniel follows on unsteady feet, but follows nonetheless.

Daniel lets himself be laid down on the bed, and there’s a glazed shine in his eyes, and his hands keep drifting up to poke and prod at the wound on his neck as Armand undresses, letting his clothes fall in a pile to the floor, they’re mostly ruined anyway. He takes a towel from the bedside table, and hauls Daniel into his arms, presses the cloth to his neck. Daniel hisses and tries to pull away, but his body is loose and pliable and Armand curls around him, tucks Daniel’s head under his chin and wraps his limbs tightly around him. He tries not to dwell on how strenuous all of this will be to clean later, and rather on the warmth of Daniel against him, the slight shiver in his limbs and the calming static of pain, of Armand in his head.

“Rest”, he whispers into the messy curls on Daniel’s head.

[darksigns-exe]

still alive for you - noah sebastian x bee (ofc)

warnings: a little angst

word count: 1.3k

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Noah’s not there when she wakes up. 

It’s not entirely unusual. 

Noah’s somewhat prone to waking up in the middle of the night. And, either lured from bed by some creative force or held back from sleep by his own mind, he’ll wander to a different part of the house. 

Bee lies in silence for a moment, before she decides to bring him back up here. 

It’s barely three and he needs the rest. 

And really, she wants him back in bed. She always sleeps better when he’s by her side. 

Bee pulls one of Noah’s sweaters on before she steps out into the hallway. 

For once, the house is quiet. They’ve been slaving away at the album, and it’s obvious that they’re all a little worn down. 

She tiptoes past Nick's sleeping form on the sofa. Somehow he manages to look somewhat comfortable. Maybe she’ll drop off one of her extra pillows later, she can’t bear the sight of him sleeping on the throw cushions. 

She doesn’t find Noah in the studio. Usually, he’s there, saving whatever idea had popped into his head before it would disappear forever. Instead, she finds him out in the backyard. 

He doesn’t immediately notice her.

His focus seems to be entirely on a piece of paper. It’s mostly obscured by his hands, but even then, Bee couldn’t decipher a word from this distance even if she tried. 

“Noah?”

His body jolts, obviously caught off guard. The paper slips into the pocket of his sweats, as his head snaps towards her. 

“What’re you doing up?”

Bee makes her way over to him. Her hand drifts through his hair. She still isn’t entirely used to how short it is now. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

His head tips back until he can look at her. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

She sits down next to him on the lounge chair, and Noah immediately drops his head to her shoulder. 

“Something keeping you up?”

“I don’t know. Just a lot of thoughts.” He mumbles, “I’m worried about the album, you know? It’s different. What if they don’t like it?”

Bee presses a kiss to his temple. 

Seeing him so worried about his breaks her heart a little. Noah has poured so much of himself into this album that her heart aches a little. 

“I’m sure they’ll love it.” Her hand comes to rest just above his knee, “You wanna come back upstairs with me? We can watch another episode of that documentary we started.”

Noah remains silent and Bee figures that he wants quiet first and foremost. 

“Do you want to be alone?” She asks softly. 

He shakes his head, “Stay. Please?”

“I’m just gonna get us a blanket, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Bee presses a final kiss to the top of his head before she slips back into the house. She fetches one of the blankets from the living room. She picks up a bottle of water too, just to be sure. 

When she comes back outside, Noah still seems somewhat lost in his thoughts. She drapes the blanket over his shoulders. Noah looks up at her with soft eyes. 

He pulls the fabric from his shoulders, as he lies back. Bee follows his silent invitation to curl up against him. She arranges herself along his side and Noah waits patiently before he covers them both with the blanket. Her head finds an easy home against his chest and as if rehearsed, Noah’s arm curls around her body. 

Bee feels his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. 

Once in a while, she feels his fingers pulse against her ribs, but other than that, he’s entirely still. 

There’s something unspoken between them, Bee can tell from the hesitant look that has settled onto his face in recent days. She doesn’t know what’s stopping him from saying whatever is on his mind, but she hopes that he’ll eventually find the bravery to say it. 

Bee has to quiet that nagging little voice in the back of her head that keeps trying to tell her that he’s preparing to break-up with her. It’s not fair to him – or to herself. 

She’s never loved anyone more than she loves him, and she’s sure that he feels similar. At least, she hopes so. 

They’ll figure out a way to deal with whatever is worrying him. 

They always do. 

So far, they’ve always managed to figure their problems out. 

She doesn’t like seeing him like this. Sure, he gets quiet sometimes, but this is a different kind of quiet. It’s heavy, almost like the kind of quiet that would linger over him when they met. 

“You’d tell me if something was up, right?” Bee asks quietly. 

Noah stiffens under her, and for a brief moment, she thinks that he’s about to share what is weighing him down. 

“Sure.” he lies, “It’s just the album. It’s a lot to worry about.” 

It does sting a little, and Bee is glad that he can’t see her frown. She’s sure that he has a good reason to keep this to himself. 

“Okay. If there’s something I can do, just tell me. I can write e-mails for you or something.” 

Noah lets out a chuckle, “I might hold you to that. You’re better at business talk than I am.” 

“I know.” 

He pulls her closer against him, and Bee lets her hand wander to the other side of his body.

Bee lets the silence wrap around them for a while. She’s so very content here when he holds her like this. She could spend hours just resting next to him, with not a word exchanged between them. 

Their silence has always been comfortable, and she suddenly finds herself reminded of the night they met. It had been right on this very porch, maybe two years ago now. Their first year had been a right mess, but they’d managed to make up for the time they’d lost. Sometimes Bee wonders where they’d be if they’d been a little bit better at talking about their feelings. But maybe then everything would be so different that it wouldn’t be them anymore. 

“Do you want to get lunch tomorrow?” Noah asks after a while, “I can pick you up after your classes.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” she pokes her foot against his leg, hoping to get a little laugh out of him. 

Thankfully, Noah gives her just that, although it feels awfully stilted. 

She decides that she needs to hear him laugh wholeheartedly then. And before he gets the chance to actually reply to her, she shoves her hand under his shirt. Her fingers find that ticklish spot at his side. It doesn’t make much to get a genuine giggle out of him. Before long, Noah’s hands find their way under her own shirt, in search of retaliation. He’s relentless, and he only stops when Bee almost topples off the lounge chair. 

“Peace?” Noah asks, sounding rather breathless. 

“Peace.” 

Bee shifts herself upwards, moving herself on top of him. She brushes her fingers across his cheek and in return, he gives her a soft smile. 

“I would love lunch.” 

“Good. I’ll pick you up after your classes. Do you want to go somewhere specific?”

“Surprise me?” 

“I can do that.” 

She leans down to place a kiss against his lips. 

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

Noah’s hand comes to rest against the back of her neck to bring her down for another kiss, “Then it’s a date. You wanna head upstairs?” 

Back in bed, Noah wraps himself around her again. Bee shuffles back against him, sighing when his hold on her tightens just a bit more. Exhaustion has once again captured her, and she feels herself drifting off once again. 

Noah presses a kiss to her bare shoulder. 

“I love you so much.” he whispers. 

Bee tangles their fingers together, “I love you.”

She thinks that he looks a little less worried then, a little less as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She’ll keep chipping away at him and when he’s ready, he’ll tell her what’s worrying him. He’s been so very patient with her, so it’s only fair that Bee shows him the same kind of patience. 

She settles against him, comfortable in his hold. 

She’s safe here. 

They’re safe here.

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[adarafaelbarba]

Ooo hiii if it’s all right, can I please request a Sonny Carisi x fem!reader where she’s Munch’s daughter, so she’s grew up around the original squad so SVU is practically her family. Also she has a civilian job like owning a coffeeshop. She met and fell in love with Sonny when he was a detective and present day (now that he’s an ADA) they’re married and just recently had a baby (daughter) and she brings their baby to the squad as a surprise visit (when they’re not that busy of course)?💜

a/n: mentions of Munch, but not heavily indulged since he's passed. RIP Richard Belzer ❤️

You hadn't seen the squad since your dad's funeral, where you left your baby with your mother-in-law. Sarah was too young to even understand what was going on anyway, so it was for the better. But it meant that the squad didn't know about her yet. To be honest they didn't even know you and Sonny were married. He preferred keeping you and your daughter safe. And with how dangerous the life as the ADA could be, with the cases he dealt with, he wanted to be on the safer side.

However, today was different. He'd asked you to come to the precinct on your want to work, Sarah was going with you as you only had office work to do today. You loved your husband so much you'd do whatever he asked of course, so made your way to the precinct to see what was going on.

Laughter filled the room as you got off the elevator, and a few familiar voices mingled with new ones. Aunt Liv had apparently been hiring new ones since she saw her last.

"Hey doll! Hey baby!" Sonny exclaimed when he saw you, rushing over to kiss and hug you and your daughter.

You smiled softly up at him, caressing his cheek. "What's the rush, handsome?"

"I wanted them to know, about us, and our little princess." He murmured, booping Sarah's nose.

The two of you turned to the squad, and both Fin and Liv gasped. "baby?!" You both nodded at that, smiling wide.

Liv instantly wanted to hold the little girl, but uncle Fin, he wasted no time to hug you. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, doing better every day, Sonny and Sarah help of course, but would've been nice to have dad here too."

"Her name's Sarah?" You nodded at that.

"John is reserved for our future son, well, one of our sons. Sarah is kinda named after her nonna."

Sonny smiled proudly as he looked at you and your daughter interacting with the squad. So happy to have his little family there with him. Although he wanted to keep you safe, he knew that if the squad knew about you and him, they'd be more ready if something happened to him.

~~~

Tagging:

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[v33n4-c4rn1s]

"The odds are ours."

Remy Lebeau x fem!reader

A/n: HERE IT IS!! it got delayed twice but its here!! thank you for all the love, for making this possible. Here's the FINAL part of the main series. To answer your question..no! the series is NOT over! i plan to continue this in little oneshots! tiny extras! now, without further ado! here's the last part! as usual, Angst/Comfort. Enjoy!! <3

Summary: When wade wilson dragged you into the mess you were miserable, mourning and utterly heartbroken but now, after following Wilson and Howlett around for hours, watching them fight you finally get your end of the deal. Seeing a man you thought you'd never see again.

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To say you were pissed was an understatement, you were livid.

You should have stayed. Ran back to the face you’ve been so familiar with for just a few hours. The very face that handed out a clean, fresh start. To forget the pain of the past, to live on with him.

But luck never favoured you. 

..Neither did gravity.

You learned that when your back slammed into a car. The force of it sent white hot pain up your spine and you could barely resist the urge to curl up and scream. First you leave behind a solid connection and now your ribs are broken. Nice.

Wade groans, hoisting himself off the car while Logan just..slumps.

“Holy shit that's deadpool!!”

“And wolverine!!”

..well, at least they don’t recognize you. You're half thankful, half offended.

“You're damn straight it is! Fox killed him. Disney brought him back! They're gonna make him do this till he’s ninety!”

Wade points his finger at Logan. Amusing the children and earning a scoff from the older man. You get a brief meeting of this..Peter guy that Wade has been yapping on about. He seems..sweet. Really sweet. That's a nice change. 

- - - - - - -

You follow the ketchup and mustard pots to the street. Seriously, the pain in your ribs is killing you. You’re almost tempted to ask Logan to carry you..or play dead.

That’s when you see him, the phony bastard. Paradox.

“No! Piss off! You’re too late!” 

He yells at all three of you, waving his arms until Logan snaps at him.

“You’re fuckin’ done.”

“Why was Thor crying!?”

  Wade jumps in, pointing an accusing finger...Well, now you just have to get a word in.

“Why’d you send him to get me!?”

You point to Wade. Seriously..why are you tangled up in this mess?

“How dare you! No one comes back from the void! I didn’t send him to get you! It was his idea!”

Paradox lets out a frustrated little huff. Logan speaks up, interjecting with an almost comedic growl.

“Tell that to Cassandra Nova.”

Oh, right on cue. The beam of orange tears into the empty space. The sound of boots and..it’s the man from before. The one Logan punched real hard. God you just want to see Remy again. 

“Paradox, we have a problem.”

His head twists to the side, A shuddering snap of bones occurs before Cassandra Nova steps out. Tossing the corpse to one side. She speaks, her tone is playful. Like she's bantering with Paradox.

“You tried to kill me.”

You tense up. Just the sight of her makes you feel cold. God, you wish you could just go straight back to Remy. The portal is open. The void is there. You can see it. Hell. Fuck it. 

You move to rush forward, not even paying attention to the conversation ahead..

“Now shoo. Mummy and daddy are having a conversation.”

You’re forced backwards, Flying back alongside Wade and Logan. At Least they’re cushioned by a car. You, on the other hand, smack to the ground with an obvious thud. You don’t have as much strength as you like, You can’t pull through, not like this. Your brain feels fuzzy, your eyelids are heavy and with one last curse from Wade..you fall unconscious.

- - - - - - -

The Fire is warm on your skin. It’s comforting. The familiar scent of burning wood and..Tobacco. Your head rests against the warmth of another body.

You jolt. You don’t even realise someone else is there, neither do you realise your surroundings.

The library. In the mansion. Your home.

You look up. You dread to see what you’ll find. Memories itching to tear from your weary bones. Begging for freedom against the confines of your mind..

But a familiar face stares back. Eyes soft with affection.

“Remy–”

The words die in your throat. You just stare. He takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. Its soft, a gesture you could never scrub from your mind even if you tried.

“Mon amour..”

He coo’s so softly. It’s a sound you’ve missed. Before you can stop yourself. You throw your arms around his neck. WIthout missing a single beat, he wraps his arms around your waist.

“I–I thought– I thought I'd never see you again! How— How is this–”

He stops you, pulling you away just to cup your face. He avoids the question. Instead..he gives you a word of advice.

“You need t’move on Chère. Dis ain’t healthy. Holdin’ onto the past.”

It makes you feel sick. Why is he telling you this? Does he not want you to stay?

“But– I can’t let you go–”

How could you? You’ve loved him for years. Your affection never wavered for him.

“I know dat. Trust me, Gambit knows all dat.”

Despite his instance, you couldn’t. Why? Why would you? He was..everything.

“It ain’t gon’ be easy..but you gotta try– Gambit don’t want you stressin’ for de rest o’ yer life..”

He leaned down, his hands resting on your shoulders. Such a foreign feeling but oh..you missed it.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. He pulls away so slowly, like it hurts him to part from you. He’s always been a gentleman, he breaks your heart so softly.

“You deserve good t’ings mon amour..all dat good stuff is gon’ be yours..you just gotta take it.”

The flames in the fire roar. It's sweating hot. Remy seems to panic a little. His brows knit together and he cups your face.

“You’re never gon’ have to carry de burden anymore– everythings gonna go.”

Is it selfish to say you don’t care? It might be. The people, the friends, the history. Gone.

But this place isn’t a home, no without him.

Your Remy. Your Dashing Cajun.

A man who has seen so much but never loves too little.

A fresh, painless start is what you need.

He’ll find you. He always does

- - - - - - -

Your head feels like it's splitting open. God, everything is hurting. Your ribs, your knees, your heart.

Fuck, what the hell happened?

Oh, right..

You sit up, immediately regretting the decision. Pain climbs up your spine, causing you to wince.

“Easy, bub.”

A gravely but surprisingly soft tone comes from the all familiar Logan.

His hand rests on your chest, gently pushing you to lay back down. For a moment, he watches you. Eyes taking inyour trembling form. His hand, still resting on your chest, twitches softly. These hands have spilled so much blood yet they’re so tender on the people he cares for. Hah, lucky you. Sneaking into Logan Howlett’s heart, making him play doctor. There's an authoritative yet parental touch.

He lets you relax before he breathes out a quiet sigh, shaking his head.

“Wade’s playing hero. Said something about a gift to you for all your..hard work.”

You can tell he’s trying not to laugh. A breathy chuckle leaves him as he sits back down in the arm chair.

“How long have i–”

Your voice is..embarrassingly raspy. Seems like it's been out of action for a bit but Logan knows what you're asking him.

“Day and a half at most. You ain’t missed much. We saved his universe and uh..essentially became his roommates. Hah. I see that look. You seriously thought you could get away from ol’ mouth?”

You throw your head back with a groan. Shaking your head. God, first you lose your home and you’re already checking in to a new one? It’s happening way too fast for you to even–

“You think I still have that spare mattress? I can’t remember if i tossed it out yesterday or–”

Wade, completely geared out in costume, casually struts out of that blazing orange portal with..

Remy. 

The Remy you met in that dump–

He’s battered, for sure. A nasty cut lines his cheek and his nose is coated in more of the sticky red liquid. He’s limping. Straining to get inside without toppling over. His usual charm seems to be tossed out the window as he coughs into his fist, shoulders trembling.

“Oh there’s our sleeping beauty! Hi sweetie! Did you have a nice coma? Look what your buddy Wade got ya– and he’s all yours! We can sort out a collar tomorrow–”

He’s obviously making it sound like Remy’s some kind of dog– leashed and collared and to be honest? He might as well be. Look at those puppy dog eyes.

“Chère..”

He breathes out so softly. For a moment..it’s like you’ve known him your whole life. Wade backs up and grabs Logan’s arm. Muttering about needing to “find the mattress.”

You rush forwards, stumbling slightly and without thinking you crash against the Cajun’s chest. It’s so warm, so comforting. A breath of fresh air after the polluted heartbreak. He caves immediately. He wraps his arms around you, cradling your head against his chest.

“There's my girl..”

He speaks so softly, like you’ll shatter under his touch. You know you're crying. Pitiful cries slip past and he hushes you softly like he did that night in the hideout. It breaks his heart to see more tears but he knows it's out of relief. 

There's no need for words, not when he swoops down to cup your jaw, tilting your head up to pepper your forehead in featherlite kisses. 

He came from nothing. Living off the scraps of garbage and the skills he had. You, a version of you, changed his life for the better. He lost you once before and now he’s never losing you again. This is the start of the best new leaf anyone could wish for. Some call it relighting old flames, but is it really an old flame if it never burnt out?

You look up at him, meeting his gaze. Something clicks in your head the minute he leans in closer..

He pauses, he's a breath away from taking your own but he waits..he needs to know you're ready. It doesn’t matter if it takes years. He’d wait a thousand years if it meant he got to return to your loving arms.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait any longer. You meet him in the middle.

His lips are incredibly soft against your own, he tastes like liquor..it's no surprise or a shock. You already knew the taste. It was seared into your mind for good.

He outright groans in satisfaction. You can tell he’s overjoyed by the way he fumbles. He’s not sure where to hold you. It's cute, his hands try to find purchase anywhere they can. They settle on your waist before his arms decide to wrap around you, pulling you in deeper.

He’s breathless when you pull back. Cheeks flushed such a pretty pink. The tips of his ears are red. His brows furrow before he noses your cheek lovingly and presses his forehead to yours.

This is exactly where he wants to be.

He lets out a breathy sigh once more, his gaze meets yours.

“Might need to start hopin’ through portals some more if I get welcomed like dis..”

He laughs softly when you hit his shoulder gently. He pecks your nose in response, squeezing your hips.

“Ah, Behave chère, Remy’s only teasin’..”

Such a fool, but he’s claimed himself as your fool. 

The odds have always been in his favour. And this time, they brought him home.

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Thank you all so much! i love you all SO MUCH!! <3

[moutainrusing]

photo

296 words, no warnings, @dorlenemicroficprompts

“Bet those two were lesbianing,” Ginny pointed at the old photo of the Order, at two women who were grinning with their arms slung around each other’s waists.

“Really?” Luna asked, peering at them again as she laid on her stomach beside Ginny on the carpet of Ginny’s bedroom at Grimmauld Place. “They could’ve been friends,” she speculated.

Ginny shrugged, “Yeah, or they could finally give me the sapphic representation this world needs, and I know which one I prefer.” She grinned, “They were hundred percent lovers.”

“Marlene McKinnon and Dorcas Meadowes.”

“Lovers.”

“They would’ve been close to each other in the register, their surnames both start with M…”

“Lovers,” Ginny sang. “Classroom partners. Academic rivals to lovers. All the evidence is there. Lovers.”

“How did they die again? I think the dates were quite close to each other…”

“Lovers!” Ginny shouted, and now she was jumping; over Luna’s body and sitting on top of her, leaning over Luna’s shoulder and whisper-yelling into her face, “Lovers.”

“Death Eaters killed Marlene’s entire family first, while they were in her house, and Dorcas died next. Voldemort killed her personally,” Luna remembered.

With a gasp, Ginny rolled off Luna to squash against her side. “What if Dorcas, in a fit of passionate love, sought out Voldemort and tried to bring him down for what his followers had done to her…?” she paused dramatically for suspense, and Luna shook her head fondly.

“Lover,” she interrupted Ginny’s too-long pause. “Sure. We’re witnessing a sapphic tragedy.”

Ginny frowned. “It’s sad. They’re dead. They should still be lovers now.”

“I think they are,” Luna smiled wistfully. “There’s always gonna be kids like us who want sapphic representation, right? There’s always kids like us to remember all the historical women to ever love women.”

[thewizardingpost]

When the Finch Tries to Shout

poly!marauders x fem!reader

note ⌇ the Marauders’ playful teasing about your quietness makes you insecure, leading you to try becoming more extroverted and loud. warnings ⌇word count  3.2k, established relationship, misunderstanding, shy/introverted!reader, hurt/comfort, r feels insecure, r’s Hogwarts house is unstated

You sit in the dining hall alongside them. It’s the weekend, a time when the dining hall was a place to hangout, study, or wait a few hours until you had to leave for your train ride. They’re chatting amongst themselves while you listen and observe, occasionally adding a comment or two. All was well, this was how the dynamic between the four of you played out.

It was a good dynamic. With James being the most extroverted, then Sirius, then Remus–and then you. You all respected each other’s personalities, learning how to shift your day around one another’s social battery. You all also tend to comment on each other’s personalities, making jokes and teasing one another. It’s lighthearted, laced with an intent to bring a smile to your face.

But today? It felt different.

As they continued to joke around, something in the air seemed to shift. The teasing, which usually made you smile, felt sharper than usual, like a little poke at your ribs that didn’t feel playful anymore. Sirius was in the middle of a story, gesturing wildly with his hands as he talked, and then his eyes flicked over to you with a mischievous grin.

“Oi, Finch,” he said with a wink, “You know, if you smiled more often, you wouldn’t look like you’ve got your own personal mystery going on. You’re like a bloody riddle wrapped in a frown.”

The words were meant to be playful, but they stung more than they should have. You blinked, forcing a smile that didn’t quite feel genuine. The teasing used to make you laugh, but now it just made you feel... small. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly aware of how your quietness seemed to fill the space in a way that wasn’t as welcome as it used to be.

James, picking up on the slight shift in your mood–though not fully understanding it– leaned forward with a grin. “What’s the matter, love? You’ve gone all quiet on us. Don’t tell me you’ve gone shy again.”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat feeling heavier than usual. The comment was meant to lighten the mood, but instead, it felt like an expectation. Like your silence wasn’t something they were used to anymore—like it was something they were beginning to outgrow.

You didn’t respond right away, letting the words hang in the air. The silence stretched between you all, but it felt different this time. You weren’t sure if it was your own insecurities talking, or if their teasing really had changed, but it left you with a sense of unease. Maybe they didn’t mean to hurt you, but... maybe they were tired of you being quiet.

Nevertheless you gave them a smile and the night went on. 

The words lingered in your mind long after you’d returned to your dorm. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, overthinking every little moment. Have they outgrown your quietness? Did they secretly wish you were louder, more energetic, more like them? A knot twisted in your stomach, your heart growing heavier the more you thought about it.

Your quietness had never bothered you before. It was simply who you were. But now? Now it felt like it was something you had to change, something you had to fix. You rolled over onto your side, pulling the blanket closer around you, but the ache in your chest didn’t go away. You could almost hear their voices in your head again, the teasing that used to be so playful now feeling like a subtle jab at your identity. Maybe they didn’t mean it, but maybe that didn’t matter. It hurt all the same.

By the time the morning light filtered through the windows, you’d made up your mind. You didn’t want to disappoint them. You didn’t want to be the quiet one anymore.

The next morning, when you greeted them, you were all smiles. You waved enthusiastically, laughing at jokes that didn’t quite land as hard as they used to. You talked—a lot. Far more than you usually would, your words tumbling out, faster than you could stop them. You were cheerful, a little too cheerful, acting like everything was just fine. But inside, your heart was burning. You were doing it. You were being louder. You were being more open.

You noticed James raise an eyebrow at your sudden burst of energy, and Sirius gave you a curious glance. But Remus? Remus was the one who watched you closely, his gaze a little too gentle, a little too knowing.

You kept talking, though. You had to. The more you talked, the less time you had to think about it. And the more you smiled, the more you could pretend everything was fine. You could, you could try to pretend it was all fine. 

You all wandered through Hogsmeade, the chilly winter air nipping at your cheeks as you led the way. Your steps were light, your voice a little too loud, a little too eager, but you couldn’t stop. You had to keep the act up. You had to keep the energy high, even if it felt like it was slowly draining you from the inside out.

James and Sirius were leading the pack, as usual, their laughter echoing through the streets as they spotted a new magical gadget in one of the nearby shops. They’d be distracted for a while, no doubt. Meanwhile, you found yourself pulling Remus along, a wide grin plastered on your face.

"Oh, look at that!" You pointed to a shop window, bouncing on your toes. "We should go in here, I heard their chocolate frogs have a special edition!" You kept the chatter going, trying to fill the space with noise, hoping the others wouldn’t notice how loud you were talking.

Remus, however, was quiet, his usual calm presence hovering at your side as the others got farther ahead. You could feel his gaze on you, the gentle pressure of his quiet observation weighing on you. After a beat, he leaned toward you, his voice barely audible over the noise of the bustling village.

"You know, you don’t have to do this. We love you as you are, dove." His tone was soft, concerned, his words carrying a quiet weight you weren’t ready to hear.

You laughed a little too loudly, trying to mask the sudden rush of nervous energy that had flooded your chest. "Whatever do you mean?" You flashed him a smile that felt like a mask, wide and bright but not quite reaching your eyes. "I’m just excited, that’s all! Isn’t it a great day?"

You kept walking, forcing the words to tumble out, your gaze darting from one shop to the next, looking anywhere but at him. Remus didn’t move, though. He kept pace beside you, his hand casually brushing against yours as if offering comfort, but you weren’t sure if you could let him in just yet. Not with the way your heart was pounding, the way you were desperately trying to fill the space with something—anything—to make it seem like you were okay.

Remus sighed quietly, but you didn’t give him a chance to say anything more. "I’ve been here before, you know," you added, forcing a playful tone, "Hogsmeade’s not exactly new to me." You laughed again, the sound coming out more hollow than you intended. "I think I’m getting pretty good at this tour guide thing, don’t you?"

Remus didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on you, soft and knowing. He wasn’t fooled by your act. But still, he didn’t push, just walked silently by your side, letting the others enjoy their candy-filled distractions.

You could hear James and Sirius in the distance, their voices rising as they discovered some new magical candy that they were already arguing over. But despite the noise around you, it felt like there was a quiet tension between you and Remus that hadn’t been there before. The pressure of trying to be something you weren’t... trying to be someone else.

You told yourself you could handle it. You could keep the smile up, but you’re not sure how much longer. How long could you keep it up? How long should you? Until they’ve accepted you as being ‘one of them?’

The Gryffindor common room was full of life, laughter spilling out from every corner. The fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth, and students were sprawled out on couches, some chatting about the latest gossip, others buried in their books or playing games. You, of course, were doing your best to engage, even though your social battery was drained beyond belief. The effort of keeping up with everything was wearing on you, but you didn’t want to seem like the odd one out. You didn’t want to be the quiet one in the corner, especially with your partners—James, Sirius, and Remus—sitting nearby.

They were laughing and teasing each other, as usual, their energy contagious. James and Sirius were as loud and energetic as always, while Remus sat back, watching, offering quiet commentary here and there. You found comfort in their presence, even if it made you more acutely aware of your own lack of energy.

Your attempts to match their enthusiasm were wearing thin. Every time you laughed a little too loudly or tried to jump into the conversation, it felt forced. You could feel the weight of exhaustion creeping in, but you shoved it aside, determined to keep up the appearance of being just as talkative, just as carefree. You didn’t want them to think you were being distant or boring.

As you sat with the group, chatting with a couple of Gryffindor girls you had started to bond with, the conversation turned to teasing—just lighthearted fun, nothing new. But when one of the girls, Iris, leaned in with a mischievous grin, you had no idea that it was about to spiral.

“Alright, Finch,” Iris said, nudging you with her elbow, “I dare you to ask one of your boyfriends a question. Something... interesting.”

Your eyes widened as the attention of the group immediately shifted to you. You knew she meant well, but your heart raced at the thought. James, Sirius, and Remus were right there, their attention now on you, waiting for your response. You didn’t want to be shy or boring in front of them—especially when they were all so full of life. You had to keep up the act.

“Come on, you’ve been so chatty tonight,” Iris pressed, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Ask something… interesting.”

You glanced at the Marauders. James and Sirius were grinning, egging you on, clearly amused by the dare-like request. Remus, always the more reserved one, watched you with a small smile, but there was an unreadable expression in his eyes.

You had to do this. You couldn’t back down now. If you did, it would look like you were too quiet, too shy, too... boring. You had to show them that you were capable of this, that you could play along.

Without thinking too much, you stood up, trying to look casual as you walked over to where James was lounging on the couch, his usual grin plastered on his face. Sirius leaned against the wall nearby, watching you curiously.

“Alright,” you said, the words coming out a little louder than intended. You tried to smile, but it felt tight. “James, if you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

James blinked, clearly surprised by the question. He looked at you for a moment, then broke into laughter.

“What kind of question is that?” He chuckled, leaning back against the armrest. “I don’t know, I’d probably go with butterbeer or something stupid like that.”

The group laughed along with him, but there was an awkwardness in the air. You forced a chuckle, hoping it didn’t show that you were feeling a little embarrassed by the whole thing. It wasn’t a bad question—it just wasn’t the one you had intended to ask. You were trying to be funny, trying to fit in, but it felt like the whole room was watching, and you could feel every eye on you, waiting for the punchline, waiting for you to get it right. 

You smiled again, though it didn’t feel as genuine this time. The laughter faded quickly, and you could sense the shift in the atmosphere. It wasn’t that they were laughing at you, but the attention felt uncomfortable now. You had forced the moment, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d made it weird.

You glanced at Remus, hoping for a familiar, comforting smile—but all you saw was a concerned look on his face. He wasn’t laughing like James and Sirius were. He was watching you, his brow furrowed just slightly, as though he was trying to figure something out.

“You okay, love?” he asked softly, but the words felt too loud, too much in the quiet that had fallen around you.

You cleared your throat and nodded quickly, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine..” You laughed, but it was full of exhaustion. You could feel the walls of the common room closing in on you, the weight of everyone’s attention suddenly too much to bear.

Before anyone could say anything else, you turned away and walked briskly toward the door, your pulse racing. The chatter around you faded into background noise as your mind spiraled.

James called after you, but you didn’t stop. Sirius’s voice followed, but it was distant now, as you pushed through the door and into the hallway. You needed air. You needed to be alone. You had to escape the eyes, the whispers. The room had been too much, everything was too much. 

You didn’t hear Remus’s footsteps behind you until they were just a few paces away. You could feel him catching up, but you didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t face him now—not when your chest felt like it was going to burst.

“Finch, wait.” His voice was soft, but firm.

You didn’t look back, your eyes fixed ahead as you continued walking, your breath shaky. You tried to ignore the burn in your throat, the tightness in your chest. You couldn’t hold up the act anymore. You couldn’t pretend to be someone you weren’t.

But you heard him behind you, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

“You don’t have to keep pretending,” Remus said quietly, his voice full of concern. “You don’t have to act extroverted if it’s not you. We love you the way you are.”

You froze. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart ache. You didn’t want them to see you this way—weak, insecure, struggling to fit into a mold that didn’t suit you.

But Remus was right. You didn’t need to prove anything.

You turned to face him, your smile forced once more. “I know. I’m fine.”

But the words didn’t sound convincing, even to yourself. Remus didn’t buy it. He took a step closer, placing a gentle hand on your arm.

“But you’re not. Finch, it’s okay to be quiet. It’s okay to not always be the loud one. We love you just the way you are.”

You bit your lip, and a tear threatened to spill, but you quickly blinked it away. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that until now. You were trying so hard to keep up, but they loved you quiet, too.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Remus offered a small, reassuring smile.

“Let’s get you back to the dorm,” he said softly. “You don’t need to keep up the silly little act anymore.”

You nodded, allowing him to lead you back toward the warmth of the common room, hoping that you could start to relax, even if just a little bit. As you walked side by side, the exhaustion of the night started to catch up with you, the effort to be someone you weren’t suddenly feeling pointless. You had been trying to be louder, more outgoing, all because you thought the teasing about being quiet and shy meant you weren’t enough. You had overthought it, convinced yourself that your quietness was something to change. Then Remus’s words, his understanding, grounded you yet again. 

When you reached the door to the dorm, James and Sirius appeared in the hallway, glancing between the two of you. They didn’t need to say anything right away—just their presence made you feel a little lighter.

James broke the silence, his usual grin replaced by something more serious, softer. “Everything okay?”

Sirius, too, was watching you, his arms crossed but his expression warm, full of concern. You offered them both a small, honest smile.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “Just needed a minute.” You didn’t want to hide it, the fact that you’d been struggling all night, trying to act like someone you weren’t. You couldn’t hold the facade anymore.

James’s eyes softened, and he gave you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “You know you don’t have to act different around us, right? We love you as you are. Quiet or loud, doesn’t matter.”

Sirius nodded, his voice carrying the usual teasing edge but with sincerity underneath. “Exactly. We’re not expecting you to be loud to make us like you. You don’t have to be anything other than you.”

Your chest tightened, but it was in a good way, like a weight was lifting. The insecurity that had been gnawing at you all night, the thought that you had to be louder to belong—finally started to fade. You hadn’t realized how deeply it had affected you until now. The teasing, the joking about your quietness... it made you feel like you weren’t enough. You’d overthought it, thinking your silence was something to fix, something that would push them away.

But standing here with the three of them, their words washing over you, you knew they meant it. You didn’t need to pretend to be anything else.

You looked up at them, the weight on your shoulders finally easing.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice steady now. “I just... I kept thinking that because I was quieter, I wasn’t enough.”

Remus gave you a soft smile, one full of understanding. James grinned at you, ruffling your hair in that familiar, affectionate way. Sirius, ever the mischief-maker, leaned in with a wink.

“Well, we love you the way you are, Finch,” Sirius said, teasing but gentle. “You’re not boring, not by a long shot. You don’t need to be loud to make us like you.”

James nodded in agreement. “You’re perfect just as you are. So no more pretending. We’ve got you, yeah love?”You felt your chest finally release the breath it had been holding. You didn’t need to prove anything. You didn’t need to be louder, or more outgoing. The way you were—quiet, thoughtful, and you—was enough. They loved you exactly as you were, and that was all that mattered.

[newwavesylviaplath]

HI HI IT'S-A ME THE TAROT MF

(For legal purposes take this with a grain of salt. This reading is allegedly and for entertainment purposes only)

Sorry it took me a while to get back at y'all but I was busy with life and all but now I can tell y'all about the reading.

Okay so I did 5 cards for each and His were the 2 of swords, the Chariot, moon rx, ace of swords, 4 pentacles.

Hers were the magician, 2 wands rx, star rx and ace of wands rx. (I don’t remember the fifth card, my memory decided to be a bitch).

This is what I remember bc I was livin' it up with craft beer and my guns and roses playlist:

So basically, my interpretation is that he's determined to make this work (big Chariot vibes) He's like, fuck it. Let them throw shit, we’ll dodge it.

However, we have the 2 of swords (the image it depicts… its not looking good bruv) which means he might regret this situation later on; the vibe it gives off is like /did i do this right? was it worth it?". Uncertainty.

The moon in reverse talks about releasing fears/anxieties (the pap walk - "hey so yeah we're a thing, the cat's out of the bag") OR he might see S in a new light after he sees or notices her inner turmoil (more on this later).

The 4 of pentacles in a love reading is not it fr. It talks about one party being too controlling (“listen, we’re in this together, right?? RIGHT??), there are feelings of instability.

Finally, the Ace of swords in a ♥ reading talks about facing challenges. He feels he needs clarity to know which way to go (again, 2 of swords - two options, to stay or not to stay) in order to come up with a way to deal with said challenges (which could be the public opinion and his tarnished Good Guy image).

Now… Miss S:

The magician card makes me think that she “manifested” or more like pursued this connection. The image shows a man pointing up to the sky with one hand and pointing down to the floor with the other (as above so below): I have this wish, I want X thing and I’ll make it happen in the material world. This is not to say she’s the one to blame completely bc it takes 2 to tango but let’s just say that she kind of ignited the spark.

Now here’s where it gets hazy.

The 2 of wands in reverse talks about seeing that the grass greener on the other side; not being fully content about the new situation but staying because it’s familiar. The way I saw it was like ”well, people don’t really like us together, things are not ideal or the way I wanted them to be but I cant leave bc I have to make this count”. And I mean… two marriages ended for this? Yeah, she wants to make sure the mess wasn’t for nothing. (“It’s either this or nothing sigh”).

The star is a card of hope and inspiration, but when it’s upside down (rx) it talks about hopelessness, deception, lack of inspiration and boredom. (“All this circus, just to end up with This???”) Finally, the Ace of wands rx talks about delays, missed opportunities, boredom, predictability. In a love reading it represents setbacks and lack of progress.

SUMMARY: They’re in a rs, yeah, we know. But She’s doubting the progress (or lack thereof), and it makes herself question the situation. This, in turn, makes Him anxious and gives him a sense of loss (“what happened? What do we do now? How can I fix this? Was this worth it??”) Things are not what they seem, besties. There’s a lot of anxiety and uncertainty between this two. I’ll give them a year because sometimes “love” is not enough to make a relationship work.

Again, these are the vibes for now. I can check again in two weeks/a month just to see if the vibes are the same or not.

tarot anon has spoken! thanks babe

[yeonmuse]

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ Curtain Call ·˚ ༘

ᥫ᭡ f!reader x lee heeseung ── 𝒢enre. Uni au. fluff, non idol enha. feats. ot7 [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🪷

authors notes This is a follow up to Heeseungs side story in Can You Hear My Heart. It takes place directly after the final chapter of Jungwons Mini Series. This is not a Hee X Reader series, but if youd like to replace the characters name with your own feel free to. This is part of admins University series

IN WHICH 𖤓 Heeseung has a thing for the theaters golden girl, he’s been crushing on her for months. He’s got it so bad for her that he somehow lets Jake talk him into attending auditions just to get closer to her.

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Everyones invited

Heeseung meant what he said when he tweeted that he’d be going to that party, though the party itself was quite exclusive he along with his friends had already scored secure invites. Him having been friends with the boyfriend of the party host, besides since nicholas had cancelled his party, what better way to spend their time then at a party where he could finally see her outside of just practice or they’re occasional bump ins on campus.

He along with everyone else from the operationXO group chat would be attending, everyones invited, though if only they knew tonight was about to take a turn for the worst.

As they all arrived the house had already been completely packed, his first time at a penthouse suite yet all he cared about was finding her, his priorities sure did change. As he spots the pink fuzz of her hoodie which he had seen in the photos she had taken, he takes a few steps forward only to stop dead in his tracks as his eyes fall upon her smiling and laughing with two other girls, and one girl he knew all too well, Rena.

Sakoia must have sensed his presence because he had been preparing to turn himself around and walk away before he could be seen. She spotted him standing there.

“Heeseung?” He curses under his breath before looking up at her rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Koia, didn’t think I’d see you here. You didn’t strike me as the party type.” He was lying through his teeth, he had seen her posts enough by now to know when it came to her friends she was out often.

“Guess there’s a lot you’ve got to learn about me, Lee Heeseung.” She laughs and jerks her head into the direction of each of her friends as she introduces him to them.

“Ladies this is Heeseung, Heeseung this is Yuan, Nezza and Yuan's friend Rena.” No one else had seemed to notice but by the time Sakoia had introduced Rena, she had already been staring at him. This was painfully awkward and awfully troubling for him, the woman he was once in love with, the one that broke his heart, standing right across from the girl he had been trying to pursue for the last 5 months.

“Nice to meet you all.” He tried his best to play it cool, act as if he didn’t remember her, but she was well aware that he remembered, and he also knew very well from the way he looked at her alone, that he had a thing for Sakoia, because the same way he looked at Sakoia was how he once looked at her.

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight? Are the girls and the others here too?”

“Yeah we all came, Wonbin gave us an invite since Nicholas had to cancel his party. Congratulations on your release by the way, Nezza.” Truth be told he didn’t know a lot about nezza since the two had only met a handful of times, on the other hand he had known wonbin for years, the two of them having lived across from one another for years in their high school and middle school days.

“Thanks Hee, he’s upstairs probably playing pool in the foyer with some of the guests.”

“Sounds like I should be joining them, but I’ll catch you a little later?” He responds looking at Sakoia.

“Come find me later?” She responds with a smile on her face, he nods in response before disappearing into the crowd.

The moment Sakoia turned around she was met with amused faces.

“Lee Heeseung? You’re hanging out with him and his friends now?” Nezza was the first to mention the obvious elephant in the room, as long as she had known wonbin she had known about Heeseung, she had only met him and his friends a handful of times but it was enough times to know that they were a fun but chaotic bunch. As sweet as Heeseung was, she knew very well that he was the type to leave them, not love them, and it was obvious that his sights were set on her.

“I won’t say hanging out with his friends, I’ve only met them all once at his friend Jungwons Film event, other than that I only just met the girls but we’ve been hanging out occasionally.”

“All I got from this was that there are other women stealing my wife away.” Yuan complains and wraps her arms around Sakoia earning a laugh from sakoia and Nezza, while Rena just sat and observed.

“Just be careful with him, he’s not the type to talk to a woman just because he wants to be friends.”

“Nezz don’t read too much into it like you always do, we’re only friends, he’s a cast member now so I’m sure he just wants to get to know me better since we’re working together, it's only natural to do that right?”

“I don’t even know the guy, but the way he looked at you was not how a costar looks at their costar.”

“Yuan. Seriously you both are reading too much into it.”

Knowing that she had caught Heeseungs eye made her look at Sakoia in a different light. She scanned the girl from head to toe, she had to give it to Heeseung, he sure knew how to pick them, she was beautiful, stunning, but was she really his type?

While the girls remained in the kitchen chatting and gossiping about their life outside of campus, Heeseung joined the others upstairs, half out of his mind from the fact that now only the girl he currently had a thing for had been there, but so was Rena, of all places he could run into her, of all the people he could have seen here it was her.

“You look like you just saw a ghost” Wonbin chuckles as he leans over the pool table for his play.

“Maybe he ran into Sakoia.” Sunghoon teases, warning a slap on the arm from yn who had been sitting on jungwons lap.

“Oh I definitely saw her, she and her friends were gagging a nice conversation before I met them in the kitchen, a conversation with Rena.”

“Oh shit she's really here?” Sunghoon was sent into a fit of laughter that only made Heeseung roll his eyes in response.

“That bitch is actually here? Why ?” Sunoo absolutely hated her, there was no one in the group that hated her more than he had, not even Heeseung himself.

“Apparently she knows both of Koias friends and she was invited, Koia doesn’t seem to know her. I'm guessing they met for the first time today.”

“I saw the whole interaction on twitter, I just didn’t think she would actually be coming, that's insane.” Sunghoon chimes in as he takes his shot on the billiard table.

“Am I missing something? Who is this girl and why do we hate her exactly?” Yn had been the only one left out of the loop, for as long as the guys had known each other they all knew that she was someone that they didn’t speak of. There was a mutual hatred for the girl that each of them had had since senior year in high school.

“Shes Heeseungs Ex”

🔖 @sol3chu @butterflywonz @jwonistic @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @lillotus17 @dreeki @jiamini @st4rryst4r @firstclassjaylee @right-person-wrong-time @heesallure

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[bluestsdays]

while tonight hasn’t shed too much light on what exactly they were or where they were going, it did prove that they could still partake in moments like this one; fleeting, wondrous moments that reaffirm just how strong of a connection they share. the lack of clarity might not fare well in the long run, but for right now, she’s just thankful they’re no longer at each other’s throats, saying things they didn’t mean, allowing jealousy to hijack all their thoughts and emotions, lashing out in turn. but she could do this, she thinks, she could be whatever he needed her to be, whenever he needed her— just for more of this, more of him and them together, even if it wasn’t exactly how it used to be. whatever piece he was willing to give her, she would accept, wholeheartedly. and maybe it wasn’t healthy, nor did she think it would please the others in their life, but she couldn’t deny this, couldn’t deny how badly she still needed him in her life. and it’s nice to hear that it’s reciprocated, that he, too, hasn’t gone a day without wishing they were together, wanting her by his side just like she wanted him, too. she didn’t know what lay ahead for them, but fuck, she knew she would do anything to see him smile again and again like he is right now. it forces a smile upon her own lips, letting out a soft chuckle. “ no, i don’t want you to keep your mouth shut, because that would suck for me, just… try and be less hot, yeah ? seriously, that should be your resolution. i know that’s gonna be like, borderline impossible for you, but just try, please, for my self control’s sake, ” she teases in return, breath stuttering slightly as he pulls her hand into his own, fingers now interlaced as they slowly but surely continue to close the distance between them, just like always they never could stay apart for long, even in the aftermath of such a strained evening. electricity shoots up through her fingers at his touch, traveling up her arm, then all the way down to the base of her spine where it pools, leaving her warm and buzzing with something that feels like anticipation. and she knows they shouldn’t do this, that they’re falling back into familiar patterns, that she should be concerned with whether or not her boyfriend really was freaking out inside, but she can’t help it— not when he moves closer, when she looks up at him and sees everything she’s ever wanted, every dream she’s ever had, looking back at her. “ mm, yeah, no, you do not need to hear my unfiltered thoughts right now. ” she says, quietly. and she can feel his gaze on her lips, only because her gaze traces his, too, teeth sinking into her lower lip as she witnesses his fingertips splay across the bone of her hip, stifling a shiver. 3, 2, 1… and her free hand finds the curve of his jaw just as the shouts of happy new year ring out from inside. and there’s no fighting it, how she leans in to capture his lips with her own, fireworks exploding beneath her skin, reminded of the last time they were intertwined like this, just a few weeks ago. still, she’s attempting to transmit all the hope and love and longing she still feels for him into the kiss, to subconsciously tell him that this wasn’t over for her, that it wouldn’t ever be over, no matter how many new years come and go.

where did they go from here? he didn’t have an answer for that. now that he thinks about it, he never has. all they’ve been doing is taking it day-by-day, doing whatever they could within their power to just figure it out. neither were perfect at it, in fact, miller’s been entirely flawed in this process, clinging to whatever remnants were still between them, no matter how crumbled and shattered they had become. it’s better than not trying, he thinks— to have allowed the physical distance, the pain of seeing her with someone else, get the better of him. would rather fight everyday, tooth and nail, to remain in her life, if that’s where she wanted him. he would do anything she asked. and of course he wishes this had all been different for them; that he’d found a job locally, instead, that he’d fought harder when she insisted that he just go, aim to reach dreams that came to fruition, that only ever felt possible, because of her. it wasn’t the cards they’d been dealt, though, and that’s a painful truth he’ll always have to live with, the ache if it radiating in his chest, cracking his ribcage. at least, now, they were both willing to make this work, as best they could, no matter how confusing, how difficult, it’s all become. that’s why there’s relief twining into the smile that tugs at his mouth— at least they had this, here, time spent together, grounding them in a moment that will soon be lost. “ i always want you around, too— there’s never been a day when that hasn’t been in the case. ” there never would be, either. and even if his desires run much deeper than that, even if he isn’t entirely sure he can only be her friend, he chooses not to speak on it, knowing how much damage he’s already done, tonight. “ and i’ll try to not make things too hard on you, hm? even if i can’t help it… not sure what you want me to do when it comes to just standing, but i’ll do it. i’ll even learn to keep my mouth shut— maybe they can be my new year’s resolutions. ” he teases, corners of his mouth only lifting until it’s a full-pledged grin, across his countenance. it’s safe here, again, this space between them, which only emboldens him all the more, turning his hand until he can lace their fingers together, feeling the jolts of electricity that course between them. “ i happen to like your unfiltered thoughts, though, ” even if they’re hard to hear. “ actually, maybe that should be one of your resolutions; think i want to hear more of them. ” because this streak of honesty, as difficult as it has been to hear, at least meant he knew where they stood. and he hears it at the same time she does, the echoes of voices inside, counting down to the start of a new year. it cuts him off from saying that he always wants her, always has, and he doesn’t know if that’ll ever go away. he doesn’t make any effort to move from this spot, though, gaze soft, knowing, as he traces the contours of her face, all the parts of her that he has memorised. “ yeah, we probably should… fletcher will be looking for you too, right? probably freaking out that he’s lost sight of you. ” his words aren’t bitter either, the strain of their night dissipating with each moment that passes. his gaze ends up at her lips eventually, drawing around their outline, a small step closer without thinking twice about it, free hand reaching for her hip, fingers splayed along it’s most prominent part, 3, 2, 1…