#The way I got this done in under an hour should be insane

[saturnzskyzz]

This wasn't requested but this is for @ryoko-loves-roses (I saw your post about wanting In-ho and Jun-ho content so I shall deliver 🫡)

Hope you enjoy!

𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑌𝑜𝑢?

Lee! Jun-ho Ler! In-ho

A/N: the way that I was STRUGGLING to find a header for these two?? It's insane 😔 anyway! In-ho is 35 and Jun-ho is 19 here.

Warning: this is a tickle fic

---

"Hmm.. What to wear?" Jun-ho hummed to himself as he looked through his wardrobe to find nothing but boring attire. All the boring black and navy blue shirts he had hanging up, waiting to be worn were pushed away so he can see more plain black and navy blue tops. He sighed.

He was getting ready to go visit his older brother, the same brother who didn't give In-ho a heads up that he was on his way, but that was in his nature to just show unannounced, anyway!

In-ho annoyingly decided one day to just give his younger brother a key so he wouldn't have to bang on his door at 2:00A.M in the morning. Trust me, this has happened before.

After a good minute of going through the tops, he saw a shirt that stood out from all the rest. He pushed back a few more shirts to get to it, the fabric were silently glazing his shove like he had betrayed a piece of cloth, and stared at the shirt that he had once stole from In-ho right before he had moved out of his and his mom's apartment.

It was a light gray hoodie that had a factory-made patch on the pocket near the bottom. This is perfect!

He took the hoodie off its hanger, and put it on immediately, instantly walking over to a body mirror he had next to his door to stare at it in awe. "Let's go with this one for today!" as he smiled happily, he jogged to his keys that were on his dresser, and headed out the door to go visit his other brother.

---

Standing in front of his door, he carefully flipped through his set of keys to get to the ones that opened up In-ho's lovely abode, and inserted the key to unlock the door. As he stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind him, he saw that no one was home. That's wierd? Usually with the amount of "break-ins" Jun-ho had caused, he would've been sure that In-ho was home at this hour?

Shrugging to himself, he took his shoes off out of respect, and walked more into the small apartment to go and sit on his brother's bed, only to suddenly get jumped by something.. Or rather someone?

Immediately, he was scared shitless, going into fight or flight mode, and he rough housed whoever was "attacking" him. He tried to go for the arms that were trying to pin him to the bed, with his back facing up, but he missed the opportunity to fight back a he was pushed onto the bed already.

"Who are you?! Let me go!!" he yelled, getting easily panicked as he tried to desperately see who was handling him like this.

"That's no way to greet someone, Jun-ho." A familiar voice could be heard as he felt the grip of their hands suddenly release him from his place. Instantly, Jun-ho relaxed by the sound of it.

As he got up, he turned around to finally see his brother, In-ho, who was staring at him with a smug look on his face. "How dare you? I thought someone broke into your apartment and round-housed me!" Jun-ho spat out, pointing a finger at him.

"Well, I might as well be prepared since you always like to walk in here with no hesitation! I thought you were a robber for fuck's sake!" it was true! In-ho was peacefully sat at his work desk when he suddenly heard someone trying to get in to his apartment, so he decided to hide and use a sneak attack to get the culprit. Luckily, it was just Jun-ho.

"So you just.. I don't know? Attack?" Jun-ho said playfully. He had a smile on his face, showing no real malice behind his words.

"I gotta be ready for anything!" in-ho admitted with a proud smile befor turning his attention on the hoodie that he was wearing. For a couple of seconds, his smile turned to a confused expression with his whole face now.

"Say.. Is that my hoodie, you're wearing?" he pointed a truthfully accusing finger at Jun-ho, making the younger look at what he was wearing instinctively. With a knowing smile, he was caught red-handed.

"Ha! After a year since you've moved out, you just now realize I took your hoodie?" he exclaimed, cheekily. He crossed his arms with a satisfied smile.

"Not only that, that's my favorite one! The patch is what throws it together. That doesn't belong to you!" In-ho blurted out, holding out his hand as a demand that he'd give it up so quickly.

"Ohoh, not only did you not realize that your hoodie was- oh, sorry, your favorite hoodie- AND you forget who you're standing in front of? Surely you'd know my tactics by now, brother! I'm disappointed.." He was getting a kick out of this new found conversation! He stood there with pride as he was comfortably cozy in the hoodie.

"Give it back, now Jun-ho." In-ho demanded warningly, with an evil smirk this time. "Or you won't like the consequences."

"Or what? You're gonna rip it off of me? Oh please!" as he was met with silence, he got too comfy and sat on his bed as a way to say "try me" and boy, did he try?

In-ho pounced at his brother, revealing the sudden shock on his little brother's face as he was met with soft fabric, and a ceiling to stare up at. Oh, In-ho was in view too.

"You asked for this!" with that, he dug ten of his fingers into Jun-ho ribs, enlightening those high pitched giggles, and startled squeals from the boy that was long forgotten.

"HohohOHOHOLD ohohohon! Hyuhuhung!" he cried out, instantly trying to push away at the offending fingers, but it was to now avail.

He was only met with silence as he saw this shit eating grin his older brother was pulling off as he stared down at him with hungry eyes. "Give me back my hoodie, and this will all~ be over soon, little brother." He explained, delighted to hear his younger brother's giggles again after some time.

"NOHOHohohoho!" Is all Jun-ho said without really meaning to.

"Oh? You don't want to give it back? That's fine by me." He teased, switching from his ribs to his sides.

"Wahahait!" His sides weren't a bad spot, but it definitely made him release more of his low, and more characterized chuckles out of him. "Thahahat's not what Ihihi meant!!" even though he admitted to it, he knew that his Hyung wouldn't stop anytime soon.

"Of course that's what you meant, brother! Now just lay back, relax, and let me work my magic!" as he said this, he darted straight for his armpits, catching him way off guard as he squealed.

"AAH- AHAhaha nohohOHOHOT THEHEHERE!" immediately, he threw his head back as he clamped his arms against his sides as he endured the sharp electric shock that rang through his body, letting out his contagious cackles that always lifted In-ho's spirit.

"Nohot where?.. Here?" again, he switched tactics to now scribbling at his neck. The amount of spot changes drove Jun-ho insane!

"NOHohohoho- hyuhuhung stohohop! Ihihit's tohohoho much!" he scrunched up his face and shoulders now, grabbing at the offending hands once more to try and pry them off his neck. Again, not really a bad spot, but surely it got the giggles out of him.

"Ohoho, that's right! Not here- ha! Silly me.. Surely this giggle bug wants me to stay right~ here!" and again, he went back to digging into his armpits, but switched the tactic to only drilling his thumbs in this time, resulting with Jun-ho to scream out loud.

"NAHAHA- H-HYUHAHAHAH,, HYUNG! AAHAHAHA!" his face flushed by the nickname, and the sudden change of spots yet again as the electric shock came back. Slamming his arms against his sides once more, he slightly kicked his legs out by the harsh sensation. He was truly killing him!

"What is it, little brother? I can't hear you with all this boisterious laughing!" In-ho teased, wearing a full smile now. He missed teasing his brother like this. With Jun-ho going to law enforcement school to study being a police officer, and In-ho's overtime, they barely got to visit. He was relieved that he could act a fool with his brother like this after quite some time.

"EHEHehehenOHOHOUGH! PLEHEHEASE HYUHUNG!" he cried out as tears pricked down his face from laughing so much. In-ho knew he was going tired, so he finally let up, giving his brother some time to breath.

With lingering giggles, Jun-ho took some deep breathes as he wiped away his tears, and finally sat up to stare at In-ho with a smile that he couldn't wipe off in the process.

"Yohou.. Are ehehevil!" he giggled out, holding his stomach from the aching feeling.

"Well, are you going to give me my hoodie back, or do you want a round two?" In-ho asked, holding out his hand once more.

Jun-ho stared at him some more. In-ho noticed the embarrassment slowly forming on his little brothers face as his smirk turned into pure confusion. "What? Is it something I said?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Well uh.. Ehah.. I don't have anything under this hoodie, hyung." jun-ho admitted kind of quietly, but luckily In-ho understood. His confusion turned into a scoff with fake annoyance.

"You're just asking for it, man." As he was getting ready to pounce for the second time, Jun-ho was quick to hold out his hands defensively with a nervous giddy smile.

"Wahait wait wait! Ihihi'll give it back, promise! Juhust.. Not today, yeah?" Jun-ho said, hoping that his words would be met with the man.

He gave it some thought before nodding his head with a sigh. "..Fine! but don't try to purposely hold it in your wardrobe for days on end until I bother you about it, alright?" he said with a warning poke to the rib.

Quickly covering where he had poked, he giggled out an, "Ahalright!"

"Now.. Do you want to go get something to eat? I'm starving!" In-ho asked, seeing his little brother's eyes sparkle by the question.

"Do I?!" he questioned, getting up from his spot to go to the front door, making his older brother chuckle with fondness.

"Alright, alright! Chill. Let me put something more appropriate on, I'm still in my sleep wear." he said as he went to his wardrobe.

As he got dressed, the Hwang brothers gradually went to go eat lunch and talk about their days and how everything as been going. They were glad they could meet up like this once again and act like brothers. They wouldn't have it any other way.

[etherealily]

ʀɪᴏᴛ // ᴛᴀɴɢᴇʀɪɴᴇ

This was from my poll .

My other Tangerine fics. If you have the time.

Tangerine + fem!reader. Cussing, but SFW.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Situationship final boss.

(This one's for you, my twin @wintrrsoul / @wintrsoul)

..……......................................................................................................................

He may not have a heart, but he sure as fuck has a soul, and it's superglued to you, it seems.

It's in the way he's actually sort of worried you'll somehow end up in the general vicinity of his jobs and get obliterated.

It's in the way he doesn't like the fact that he can't just straight up tell you things about him.

"I like the colour blue." No, would lead to a question about how long he has and then he'd have to talk about a childhood he never had.

"I hate fast food." So, what do you eat when you're out on a job? Hang on, what do you do at your job?

See? No good.

But it's also in the way he nearly acquiesces to all of your requests. Like this morning's.

"Tell me your real name."

It's not even just that. It's the way you say it. Ask it. Your fingers are in his hair like you're scared he'll get mad at you and that's the only way you can insure yourself against him, or something. By showing him how gentle you are. It's barmy, but it's you, so he'll allow it.

"Tell me yours."

"You know my name."

Unfortunately for him, he does. He'd have actually loved to have looked you up and been unable to find a face to the name you'd given him, but it was you. Right there. Too trusting.

"The one you'd like to be called, I mean." He's stalling. He's deflecting.

"The one I'd like to be called? What is this, a test? I have to say 'yours' or summat?"

He snickers. It's a quiet one, and if you'd been anywhere but in his arms, you couldn't have heard it. "Humour me."

"Humour you? I'm afraid I couldn't come up with one if you gave me all the time in the world."

"No?"

"No."

"Shame, that.", he grunts, stretching as he turns to you. He's been up for hours. Luckily, you're too used to it to ask why he's fully clothed in a fucking suit this early in the morning. "You could have heaps of fun with it. Little activity, if you ever get bored of ghostwriting."

"I'm only bored when you're not here."

"I'm your only source of entertainment, then?"

"Cable without a subscription, yeah."

"I can't even fault that. That's a good analogy. See? You should write summat on your own. Instead of helping write for talentless pricks. Who get credit."

He's doing the thing he likes doing again. Giving you a couple of his rings to 'model'. He thinks it's funny, how they only fit on your thumb, because he has insanely heavy taste in rings.

"Not this again."

"Yes, this again! It's true, innit? Some loser who can't write needs you to do their homework for them, but they get the credit?"

"That's not how it works."

"It is, too, how it works. You told me yourself."

"All this because I asked you what your real name was."

"Not this again.", he mimics, ruffling up your hair. "Have you kept your promise and narrowed it down, then?"

"I have, actually, yeah.", you say, and he watches with a lazy grin as you sit up, the morning sun like a halo behind you, igniting your hair.

Though he's more focused on the fact that you're topless.

"Let's hear it, then."

"Nigel."

"Nigel? Like the fuckin' pelican from Nemo?", he scoffs, shifting to rest an arm under his head.

"Hold your horses, I've got more, I've got more. I've got Thomas."

"Like the tank engine? What's with you and creepy animations today, love?"

"I figure there's a reason your brother keeps talkin' about the show. Am I warm?"

He shakes his head. "You're in Antarctica.", he informs, watching you roll your eyes. Watching you. That's all he's ever done. And that's all he ever wants to do.

"I'll get it one day."

"Pray you don't. It's really hot, how pissed you get."

"I will get it, though, some day."

"Lie back down, relax. It'll come to you in a dream."

You do as he says, flexing your fingers to display his entire collection of (four) rings, glinting in the sunlight. "Arnold?"

"Fuck you, sweetheart, you're just tryna take the piss now."

He doesn't laugh much, or smile, for that matter, but he's sure one day you'll catch him off guard. Not today, though. Mm-mm. Because he feels like you're not about to let up today.

Call it a lover's intuition. But he feels like this might either be your last fight or your last fight. In short, either you never speak again, or he croaks and he really can never speak again.

"Where are you going next, did you say?", you ask, between sporadic, breathy chuckles.

"Tokyo." he reminds, leaning an arm back on the headboard while his other played with your hair like that was his next job and it paid in infinite quid.

"Can I know where?"

"Uh... just the train, it looks like."

You turn your hand around to watch the light bounce off his rings. "Will you send me another postcard, then?"

His eyebrows furrow. "Come again?"

"Like, the one you sent from Bolivia. It was tops. Alpacas and whatnot."

"I'm sorry, love — postcard?" Oh. Fuck. His brother. "Oh, yeah. Not much to do in a train, but if I find one, I'll send it over."

There's a sort of domestic silence, and for a moment, he's sure he can hear the rays of sun crash through the window, all tinkly. But that might just be the hangover.

"Why won't you tell me your real name?"

"Because I can't. You know that."

He sighs magnanimously, allowing you to rise to brush your teeth and freshen up or whatever you did to avoid the fact that his secretiveness pissed you off to no end. Which was fair, honestly.

"I just feel like we're past that point."

Any response he might have had dies on his tongue. That is fair. You have known each other near a year now. If he were you, he'd be peeved as well.

Once more, a silence flashes through the room, before he does, too, his arms crossed as he firmly leans against the doorframe.

He exhales deeply for a moment, before you spit out toothpaste, avoiding his gaze in the mirror. "Y/N."

"That's my name, yeah."

"Alright, hey—", he scoffs, moving next to you, watching you again in the mirror. "That's the last one of those you get, alright? Snappy responses or wha'ever. I'm not doin' that. The whole soft, concerned bit? Nah. That's not what we are, and we have rules. Yeah?"

"I know we had rules, and you've broken far too fuckin' much of them, but I can't break one?", you retort, unscrewing the lid of your stupid fucking bottle of Listerine. God, why did everything you do today set his teeth on edge?

"No, you can't, 'cause your ghostwriting doesn't kill anyone except your dreams. My job does. I'm not gonna receive a phone call sayin' that you're hangin' from some ceiling or some streetlight or summat somewhere, yeah?", he reminds, sternly, with a finger pointed at you, a hand on his hip, the whole shebang, before he turns back into the warmth of the bedroom, folding his suit's sleeve, now.

"Your job.", you scoff, under your breath as you gargle and then spit.

He cocks his head, raising a brow as he spins right the fuck back around. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"'S what I thought.", he mutters, adjusting his tie, running his hands through his hair, standing in front of the window on the other side of the room — you know. Basically do anything to take his mind off how fucking frustrated he is.

You're being mildly unreasonable. But he supposes he can't blame you. "Contract killer" isn't a profession you can segue into a conversation. In your head, he's much nobler. A CIA agent.

"Fuck. You can't have a normal mornin', can you?"

'And you can't have a normal reaction.', you think.

"I heard that."

You snort, shutting the bathroom door behind you as you come back out. "I didn't even say anything."

"You were thinking summat, I know you were."

"I was thinking you should shave."

He's glad you're back to the jabs at him, because he can shake himself out of this odd prophetic revelation he's supposedly having about his death or your loss of interest in him. Either/or.

He grins when you finally come out, flicking your forehead as you cross paths so he can take his turn in front of the sink. He really needed some fucking shut-eye on the plane there, but for now, washing and scrubbing at his face should keep him awake enough, and— what the hell were you doing?

He dabs his hands in between a plush hand towel by the sink, as he watches you trying to get dressed, from the bathroom mirror. "No. None of that."

"I have work."

"Oh, yeah? Funny. Sit."

"I told you, I've got work."

"There's a couple hours till my flight, and I'm sure incompetent authors can wait. Sit down."

"What, it's all according to your 'timetable', then?!"

He hates this. He hates the way you've just said "timetable" like you're accusing him of lying to you.

He doesn't care about the lying allegations, but he does care about how much audacity you seem to have, even though you know that he has a gun on him every time he kisses you.

It means that you know he's, for some odd reason, toned down around you. Not even remotely likely to hurt you.

And that's not good.

"I don't see any angry fake-authors knocking at your door right now, so yeah, yeah, it's according to my timetable. Stay. Get back in bed, alright?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but I actually have to go now, so."

He knows you're bullshitting. He's seen you when you're actually late, and that pretty little fuckin' vein in your head is nowhere near popping.

This is the only way you can get back at him for talking to you like that, and you're taking the chance.

How dare you do exactly what he would do if he were you?

"Hey.", he calls, but you're still rechecking that all your bullshit's in your bag. So, naturally, he moves behind you, his hands on your shoulders pulling you back while swivelling you around to face him.

"Why, hello, there. Go deaf or summat?", he muses, holding onto your face with both thumbs at your jawline.

"What?"

"Tell you what. You get to pick my codename for this job. Alright?"

"What?"

"Yeah. You already got some ideas, then?"

"What's the catch?"

You've abandoned your task of shoving things into your bag, and he can't have you achieve the satisfaction of coaxing a smile out of him twice in a row, so he kisses the side of your cheek and your shoulders to hide it.

"No catch."

"There's always a catch with you."

"Like what?"

"You'll reject everything with some bollocks reason."

"Nah, I'll give you a fair chance. Shoot."

"Like Dave? Or James? Or Aaron, or summat? It's like, casual, unseeming. Jane Doe, but for blokes, whatever it is. "

"John Doe. Right. But what if there's some poor bloke with the same name and description?"

"I just think the odds are terribly small."

He nods against your hair. Alright, that was fair. "Maybe my brother's done some weird shite.", he remarks, suddenly.

"Why do you say that?"

Mainly because his brother has just texted him, the absolute prick.

"He hates codenames, so he's probably sending a ridiculous one to piss me the fuck off."

🍋

Fucking what?

Excuse me?

CN. 🍋

CN. Codename. His codename was fucking LEMON?!

"I can't bloody well be James or Aaron now.", he mumbles, rubbing his hand over his jaw as he glares at the phone. You hear him, somehow.

"Why not?"

"My brother's codename for this job is apparently Lemon."

"Lemon? Like, the—"

"Yeah, like the fruit."

You snort. "So, what, you have to match, now? Uh... Melon? That would be matchy-matchy, no? Lemon-Melon."

"You're lucky you're hot, or I'd have shot ya just for that.", he comments, moving hair from your shoulders. "Look at me."

"No." It's a tease, he can tell by looking into your mesmerizing, beady little eyes.

"Why not?"

"Told you, you need to shave."

"And do what? Go clean-shaven like a fuckin' prepubescent?"

"No, I think you should get rid of the beard, go with the moustache only."

He lets out a sharp laugh of incredulity. "Not a chance in hell." He already knows he's going to do it. He's not too proud to cater to the female gaze once in a while.

You shrug, and he gestures for you to sit back down on the bed.

"I still don't believe you, you know."

He huffs, groaning as he runs his hands across his face. "What the fuck do you want from me, love? I'm not givin' you any form of identification, which, if that is what you want, is fuckin' stupid, considering the amount of times I've been inside you!"

You stare back, indifferent.

You have a habit of doing this - you leave him all huffy and red and angry and you just look at him like you don't give a crap, and it's unnecessarily sexy.

"Come on, we cross paths once in a couple months. Your job, sorry to say, is much less urgent than mine, so ju—"

"I don't even think you're tellin' me the truth."

"What? About my job?", he spits, exasperated.

"What sort of CIA agent is this flexible with their routine and, like...", you mutter, gesturing around at the hotel room.

"The good sort. You don't believe me?", he questions, sucking on the back of his teeth to hide his amusement.

"Don't you get government benefits or summat? Shouldn't you have a house?"

He raises a brow, and his mouth quirks for a second before he bursts out laughing. See? He knew you'd catch him off guard and make him laugh some day. So much for that not being today. "Government benefits. You're a riot."

"You're also not supposed to tell anyone that you're a CIA agent."

"No?", he asks, tilting his head. "Oh, I'll have to kill you then, don't I?"

"Please do.", you mumble under your breath, still acting like you have better places to be. And, in all honesty, you might. The vein is this close to popping now, so he may have been wrong about your lack of things to do.

He raises both brows as you sit there.

"Are you really still fuckin' angry?"

"I just want to know your name, what am I gonna do? Write it into a story?"

"Knowing my name will prove I'm a CIA agent, then, will it? How does your mind work?", he hisses.

"Lose the suit."

"What?" Oh, you were playing his game, with the subject changes, and he didn't like how hot that was, either.

"The suit. It's trash. That shade of green is trash. Go with blue."

"Go with blue? I need to go with blue, now do I?", he sputters, shoving you further back onto the bed, his medallion chain dangling in front of your eyes as if he were about to hypnotise you with it. "You're a riot.", he says, his fingers digging into both your cheeks.

"You said that already."

"You're gonna miss me, that's what this is." He says it like an insult, and, in this odd dynamic between the two of you, it very much is. "You're losin' your cable-with-no-subscription."

"I'm just saying the green isn't classy, not even remotely."

The grip travels to your hair, and suddenly, you're eyelashes apart. "Yeah?"

"It's trash."

"Mm.", he nods, in mock consideration. "Right."

There's a moment of silence.

"You know, if I die on that bullet train, you'll regret being such a cunt today."

"I think if you die, you'll regret spending your last morning being a cunt to me."

"So we're both cunts?"

"Apparently."

"Oh, darling, we're made for each other, then, yeah?"

You roll your eyes, and he kisses you.

Like always.

..……......................................................................................................................

Seriously.

He may not have a heart, but he sure as fuck has a soul, and it really is superglued to you, it seems.

It's in the way he's pretty sure you're making the worst stylistic choices for him ever — an extremely expensive wristwatch on a mission where he'll get multiple peoples' blood on it, but he'll let you pick anyway.

It's in the way he's sure it's supremely dangerous to text you in between jobs but he'll do it anyway.

How's by you, then?

Fine. How's the train? Did you do the coin thing?

No, haven't had the chance.

Who's the target? Or whatever.

If I could tell you that, we wouldn't have had the conversation this morning, would we?

Are you on a break or summat? How are you texting me?

He grimaces, looking up at the man out of breath opposite him.

Break. Yeah.

Did you go with my codename?

Ladybird, he thinks his name was. Can't remember, doesn't need to. The only codename he needs to remember is the one you set for him.

"Move.", he grumbles, shoving his foot away.

"Lady love?", he retorts back, nodding his head at the phone.

"Summat like that. What's it to you, virgin?"

The Insect chuckles at that, and he grimaces. His laugh's not like yours, and it's kind of disgusting to him, now. Fuckin' wanker.

Yes, I did.

How do I know you're telling the truth? Do you and your brother have name-tags?

No. Turns out, he wanted me to be Lemon. Told you he doesn't like codenames, so that was his form of revenge.

No way!

This is so unnecessarily fun, he wants to kill himself. He's about to be murdered by some Russian underworld crime-lord for losing a briefcase of money and a bell-end of a son, but he's here, talking to this girl about why his codename had to be a citrus fruit variant for this particular job.

He was really fucking priority-less.

But he's not going to acknowledge how much he needed this conversation.

Instead, he glares up at Ladybug. Or was it Ladybird? Oh, right, he doesn't care.

"I didn't even say anything."

"Again, shut up, virgin.", he scoffs, eyes darting back down to his phone.

Told him he's Lemon and that's that. I'm Tangerine.

Did you say why?

Yeah, like you said. 'Cause it's sophisticated.

Good job.

There's some old guy here tryna fuck up our chances at getting our paycheque.

He sounds like a right fucking arsehole. Stealing jobs from younger people like that.

He hides a grin at that, nudging the man with his foot.

"For what it's worth, you seem like a right fuckin' arsehole, and I'm glad you're gonna fuckin' die with me.", he declares, shoving the phone into his pocket. He knows he doesn't need to say goodbye or anything. Not with you.

Especially not now. Not when he could actually die.

It's just bad form.

Buggering hell. He's dressed head to toe in you, essentially. The suit. The watch, fuck. The rings -though they were his initially - have you all over them. The fucking facial hair. And he's still on the fence about who you even are. To him, that is. Who you are as a person? He's researched every drop of information about you. And sadly, he knows there's heaps more that he hasn't found out yet.

"That's nice.", replies The Insect.

Fuck. This wanker has Lemon's phone. Lemon's whereabouts are unknown. And he's sitting here, catching his breath like he'd never taken a beating before, and thinking about you. Idiot.

But honestly. All Tangerine could do was wait around, really.

"What kind of a name is Tangerine?", asks the tosser named Ladybug.

"Back off, my girl came up with it."

My girl. That's new. Moving on.

"Your girl's your handler?"

"My brother and I don't have 'handlers', we're outside contractors. Why do you have a handler? Loser."

"You know, you have the insults of a twelve year old boy. 'Loser'. 'Virgin'."

"Fuck you, mate."

The Insect shakes his head, chuckling as he picks off some semi-dry blood. "So. Why 'Tangerine'?"

"It's sophisticated."

"In what world?"

"The one you're about to leave if you don't fuck off."

He groans and clenches his teeth in absolute fucking agony as he moves to sit more comfortably. Oh, if you were here, you'd both laugh at him and help him get fixed up, wouldn't ya?

"Just curious."

"Yeah?"

"Do they even know what Lemon looks like?"

Huh. The Insect seemed to have some sort of sixth sense that was unexpected of him. He's going to impersonate his brother, apparently.

They could both die for this. Especially with the fake fucking case, and The Insect's god-awful British accent.

Fucking hell.

He rolls his eyes and yanks the phone out of his pocket again, scrolling, scrolling, scroll— ah, there you are.

I told him he was an arsehole.

Yeah? What'd he say?

He said 'your girl can go fuck herself'.

And what did you say?

'I'll go fuck my girl myself.'

Bullshit.

He loves making up stories and telling them to you, because you believe them all and eat it up.

He knows that by "bullshit", you mean the thought of him ever calling you "his girl", and he honestly can't fault that. But you are. Always have been. He just wishes you'd know that, without him having to tell you.

You're constantly on his mind, why can't you fuckin' read it, too?

I do have to go, now.

"You have to go? Where?"

A voice message. God, is it fucking amazing to hear one familiar voice that doesn't want to bloody kill him, maim him or torture him for not taking care of their son or their briefcase!

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me, Tangerine."

And then, it happens. You coax a full-blown laugh out of him. "That's growin' on me, y'know? I'll bring back a whole box of 'em and force-feed it to you."

"Get your brother lemons, too, then."

His brother. Fuck. "If I find him."

"What do you mean?! Is he okay?"

"Listen, love, I'll call you later, alright? I've got to go sort out this Lemon situation."

"Alright, yeah."

"I'll send you a postcard."

He doesn't know why he just said that, seeing as his survival would be nothing short of a miracle, and he's giving you false hope on a catastrophic level.

God, he was a pathetic little cunt. Wearin' his girlfriend's pick of jewellery and clothing and accessories and even moustache? Of course, it made him look good, but still.

And now he's sitting here, worried that he's lied to you, inadvertently.

There's a fuckin' limit, yeah?

"Oi.", he calls, tired and reluctant, but this has to be done.

"What?"

Tangerine licks his lips as he leans against the rumbling wall of the train car, arms crossed, muscles flexed. He wipes off a spot of blood from his nose, sniffing before he speaks. "If shite goes downhill. "Hits the fan", as your people would say it.", he mumbles, unable to fucking believe that this is what he'd come to.

His fingers rub desperately at his temples.

You (or Ibuprofen) would do a peak job at that, actually. But neither are in sight.

"Mm?" The Insect's dusting off the proxy briefcase as he responds, glancing at him from over his shoulder. "You lightheaded?"

"No, I've got a fucking migraine thanks to that ten quid water bottle you threw at me, mate!", he snaps, clenching his fists so he doesn't sucker punch this proxy-Lemon again.

He clears his throat. "If shite goes wrong, uh, would you help me send a postcard, to my girl?"

The Insect guffaws for a moment, fixing up the case as he turns, before raising both brows in astonishment. "You're serious?"

"Why the fuck would I joke about my girl?"

He holds up his hands in surrender, the briefcase glinting slightly in the fluorescent train lights. "I didn't even think you actually had a girl."

"Well, I do , alright? And if I die, just tell my brother to send her a postcard, uh, with my name on it."

"Tangerine.", he comments.

"No, you absolute stupid git, my real n— Lemon'll know what to do."

"What if he dies, too?"

Tangerine's eyebrows furrow, and his lips purse. "You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't ya? Fine, if he dies, too - he better fucking not have - you get my phone. Find my girl's address, send her a postcard with my real name."

"What's your real name?"

"Oh, fuck off, it's all in my phone. 'M not tellin' you now, and then if somehow we both survive, there's someone out there who knows my real fucking name, how much of a muppet d'you think I am?"

"Alright, alright. Done. What if I don't surv—"

"You better fucking survive!"

The train door jolts open right then, and honestly? The Insect's so lucky that happened.

"If your British accent's a stereotype, I will throw you under the train.", he growls under his breath as they both step off to 'prove' that the case is still with them.

He'll get a postcard to you, dead or alive.

At the very least, you'll get a story out of it and you can write some books on your own.

Ha. Ghost-writing.

God, you'd have loved that joke.

Ugh, fuck his luck to hell.

[ckret2]

Does Bill Cipher actually has any morals he goes by? I re-read your Human Bill Cipher AU Fanfiction - cause it's a hecking masterpiece and I LOVEEE it - and when he and Mabel were planning his escape and fake his death Bill said Mabel had too many morals... So it made me wonder do you think he has any either Canonly or in your universe? 💛

I think he does, canonly. They're not very nuanced or very consistent morals, but he does have them.

In The Book of Bill, one of the most striking scenes was when he taught the Puritan women witchcraft to fight back against their ludicrously oppressive husbands—because he didn't get anything out of it. He didn't try to use the women to further his goals, he had no particular beef with the Puritans beyond simply observing them and disliking them: he just objected to what was going on (on the grounds that it was boring, but I don't think that's the whole story), so he taught 'em some magic, gave 'em some boxed wine, and had a girls' night burning men at the stake for funsies.

And that was it. Then he left.

When he discusses his glory years in the Nightmare Realm, one of the first things he says is "I freed prisoners from bondage, mental patients from asylums, and dollars from bank vaults." That last bit is obv just robbery, but the first couple? Releasing people from captivity.

He says the Henchmaniacs discovered 8-Ball chained up in a prisoner pit—and bam, then 8-Ball was in Bill's gang. He made a deal to free Gideon from prison—and he may or may not have directly caused that to happen, but he didn't not cause it to happen.

The very first canonical crumb of intel we got about Bill's backstory was that he "liberated" his dimension. Whether or not that's what he actually did, I believe wholeheartedly that it was either what he tried to do or wished he'd done.

We know Bill's been held captive multiple times (bare minimum: whatever he did to get his mug shot taken as seen on Time Baby's announcement; his arrest after his O'Sadley's bender; getting trapped in an orb by a wizard; a couple hours in the US Military's hands; and, of course, Theraprism). He says after his O'Sadley's arrest, "I don't care for captivity" (quite understated, since we know that as he said those words he was hiding the fact that he was metaphorically gnawing at the bars of his cage in Theraprism) and "Those six hours felt like an eternity." One of his former victims wishes "therapy" on him because "it would drive him insane"—and considering that this victim was currently indefinitely involuntarily committed, I doubt he was talking about cursing Bill with once-a-month outpatient sessions.

Bill hates captivity, more than anything else. And more than that: Bill hates seeing OTHER PEOPLE in captivity.

If he sees an abused housewife, he goes "girl, you should literally murder him, and I'll help." On thorny ethical & political issues like "when is incarceration justifiable for punishment and/or the public good?" his answer is "never under any circumstances, blow up the prison." Or on "when is it morally justifiable to deprive a mentally unwell person of their freedom for their own and others' safety?" his answer is "never under any circumstances, blow up the mental hospital."

He talks a lot about hating rules, law, and order of all kinds ("why should cause precede effect? who voted on the laws of gravity?" "You have primal needs for chaos that are being repressed!") and it would be easy to write that off as him just inventing a political position that gives himself an "I can do whatever I want" card—except, he stands by those words. He goes out of his way to liberate people for no personal benefit.

But this is where the "not very consistent morals" part kicks in. Because, like,, he's got no problem with keeping an entire town captive in his petrified throne.

Sure, when Gideon betrays the town, Bill's happy to spring him out of real adult prison—but when Gideon betrays Bill, Bill's just as happy to stick him in a tiny cage to do cute dances for all eternity.

How dare the Pilgrims form a high-control cult that bans thought and imagination—but Bill can form a high-control cult that cuts off an entire town from news of the outside world, to the extent that he won't even let them travel for medical emergencies, and it's just peachy, he's doing them a favor really!

If Bill is the one who's been wronged, it's perfectly fine for him to crush people in an iron grip, because what he wants is more important than what those other terrible people wanted—because those other terrible people are oppressors, and Bill is a liberator!

Bill always makes exceptions for himself.

But, all the same—off-kilter and inconsistent though they may be, he does have some moral beliefs, and he can be outraged into action by what he perceives as moral injustices.

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

“But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading <3

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii

if you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on the masterlist!! 💌

[smolkooks]

incoming call... - kenji sato.

a/n: 2k words of one of my late night thoughts turned into a fluffy, exes to lovers fic. exes au, vet!y/n x kenji sato from ultraman: rising.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

“kenji?”

“y/n?”

you hadn’t expected to run into him here, and it seemed that he hadn’t either, from the way he was dressed. contrary to how you usually saw him on t.v. during his interviews, he was in shambles. kenji sato was dressed in a sweatset, stained with what smelled like...fish juice?...down the front. his eyes were dim, yet panicked—perhaps at seeing you, but you weren’t sure. was his hair...wet? what the fuck?

it had been more than eight years since you’d last seen him—at highschool graduation, when you’d moved to sydney for university, and he’d disappeared to the states. not that kenji sato could disappear, with how often you saw him on your t.v. screen.

“what...what are you doing here?” he stuttered, furrowing his annoyingly perfect brows. he looked exactly as you remembered, save for his current, unorganised state. just...older. better.

“well, i just got off work,” you said equally as awkwardly, gesturing at your scrubs, “um...just, heading home now.”

truth be told, this was an insanely random place to have run into him. ten minutes from your apartment block, with no shopping districts around or really any reason for him to be here at all. all that there was in your district was a river, which was nearby—so close you could still hear it from here.

“you walk?” he said incredulously, eyes fixated on your badge—dr. y/n, head veterinarian.

“uh, yeah,” you said, shifting a bit under his sharp gaze as his dark eyes shifted to meet yours. the same way he’d looked at you, all those years ago, that day. sad, but hopeful.

ken, we should...i mean, i think we should break up.

the words were as clear in your memory as day, and you forced yourself to swallow and block out those intruding thoughts.

“let me drive you,” he said quietly, after a beat, and as you opened your mouth to protest that you only lived ten minutes away, he said, “please.”

“kenji, you look really tired,” you said hesitantly, “you should head home and rest.”

“trust me,” he said with a sigh, “there’s no rest to be found in my home right now.”

you wondered what that meant. but he didn’t give you any time before he abruptly gestured down the street and wordlessly began walking you towards his car.

if you’d asked yourself twenty minutes ago, you wouldn’t have believed that you would be sitting in your highschool boyfriend’s 300-thousand-dollar porsche. and yet, here you were, buckled into the passenger seat, feeling more awkward than ever as you typed your address into his phone.

“i thought you were in sydney, to be honest,” he said, finally breaking the silence as he started the car, sweeping his hair back with his other hand.

“i moved back a year ago,” you explained as you propped his phone up on the stand he had for it, pressing start on the google maps directions, “worked in sydney for three years after grad, then got a job offer to be promoted to head vet back here in japan. couldn’t pass it up. besides, my mum’s here and i wanted to be with her.”

“you don’t live with her, though?” he said. of course, he’d noticed that your address had changed. he had spent more hours at your house than he’d probably spent at school in all six years of secondary school combined.

“yeah, i wanted my own place,” you said with a soft laugh, “i’ve got a few pets. they would drive her mad, with how loud they are.”

kenji huffed, “kids can be so damn loud.”

that caught you off guard, and you turned to him, shocked, and if not a little embarrassed. of course, kenji already had kids! he was a young, extremely wealthy man who of course would’ve married by now. you’d done well for yourself, but you knew you couldn’t compare to kenji sato.

“kids?” you couldn’t help yourself, the sharp question slipping out before you could process and revealing your surprise.

“uh—it’s complicated,” he said quickly, “wait, that sounds wrong—not that it’s complicated, just—well, she’s not really my kid—,”

“so you’re a stepdad,” you asked, confused.

“not really,” he replied, one hand running through his hair again, messing it up more, ��she’s my pet, i guess. pet...lizard.”

your eyes lit up, “oh my god, i love lizards. i wish i could have one, too—maybe a gecko? but i have too many cats right now.”

“i wish i had a cat, instead,” kenji rolled his eyes, “she’s so whiney.” but there was affection tucked in his voice, and you picked up on it even without having to see his half-smile in the mirror.

“i’ll have to visit, then, to see your lizard.”

“and you, your cats,” he shot back as he parked by the curb, “you weren’t lying when you said you lived close by.”

you laughed, “why would i lie?”

he shrugged in response.

“get back safe,” you said, as you stepped out and reached to shut the door, “thank you for the ride. it was really nice to catch up.”

“yeah—well, you too,” he said, biting his lip as he seemed like he wanted to ask something else—you knew that look on his face better than anyone.

“what? spit it out,” you said jokingly, narrowing your eyes.

“oh...” he chuckled nervously, “um, can i have your number? yknow, your new one.”

you were caught off guard by him, yet again. “sure. it’s the same as it was. has yours changed?”

“yeah, actually...gotta change mine a lot, these days,” he looked really embarrassed by that, “what with the baseball stuff. i’ll call you. we need to catch up properly.”

i missed you. his eyes seemed to say, and something in your stomach fluttered at his earnest expression.

“we do,” you replied, before shutting the door, “see you, kenji.”

he waited until you’d headed upstairs before he drove off.

***

incoming call...unknown caller id.

“what the...?” you rubbed your eyes as your vibrating phone woke you up from your afternoon nap. you’d taken a fond liking to naps these days, after taking on so many emergency late night shifts at the clinic.

groggily, you picked up the phone and immediately was met with the sound of heavy breathing, which creeped you out, truth be told, and just as you were reaching to hang up on the creep, a familiar voice rasped out, “y/n, help me.”

“what the fuck? kenji?” you shot upright, panicked at his desperate tone, “what’s wrong?”

“are you free, right...now?”

“uh, well—i guess? i just got back from work, so...”

“sorry,” he said quickly, “to bother you. i’m just having trouble with my...lizard...and i didn’t know who else to ask. i can pay you—as much as you want—or—,”

“no, kenji, it’s fine,” you cut him off smoothly, “don’t be ridiculous. where are you? i did say i wanted to meet your lizard, anyway.”

***

you should’ve expected that kenji sato would live in a district as boujee as this. the buildings seemed to rise higher than your eyes could see, going all the way up into the clouds that shrouded the twilight sky. the cars here were all black and silver, with tinted, dark windows. it felt like a different world to your neighbourhood, and yours was already the nicer of the bunch.

“kenji, i think i’m here, but i don’t know how to get up,” you said into your phone, confused by all the security mechanisms and fancy technology that surrounded the large glass door before you. plus, your hands were pretty occupied—your phone squished between your cheek and shoulder, one hand holding your first aid kit—reptile-specialised—and the other your coat and bag of other equipment that you felt like you might need, if his lizard was in such bad condition that he’d called you up out of nowhere.

“give me a sec, i’m coming.”

as promised, the very man appeared moments later, looking just slightly more put together than the last time you’d seen him. at least this time, his hair was dry.

“thanks for coming,” he said hastily as he let you in, leading you to the set of elevators that awaited you, “i...i didn’t know who else to call. i really don’t know that many people here i’d want to talk to, and i’ve been really lonely lately, it’s kinda...sorry, i’m ranting, but i’m going through it and...anyway, i’m glad to see you.”

you found his ranting kind of endearing. you knew it was something he only did when he was really nervous—just like he’d always done, even when you two were just kids—and it made you feel young again, talking to him. like you were talking to your very first crush.

well, you supposed in a way, you were.

in the elevator, he was largely silent, although you could sense his stress—as if he had something to tell you but was too scared, his leg bouncing and fidgeting nonstop with the bottom of his shirt.

finally, as he went to swing open his apartment door opened, he blurted out, “don’t freak out.”

when you looked inside, you understood why.

and it was too late, because you were already freaking out. you dropped all your supplies in your shock, eyes widening and feet stumbling backwards.

“kenji, what—what is that—,”

there was a gigantic lizard before you. a gigantic one, and when you said gigantic, you meant it. it was at least...ten times bigger than you, and you’d never seen anything like that, before.

“um...emi...she’s a kaiju,” he said sheepishly, wringing his hands.

“what the—,”

“a baby!” he said quickly, “and i raised her, so she’s just a little cutie. but...you know, she’s growing up and i think she’s going through puberty or something. i don’t know! she’s just really struggling emotionally these days and i can’t figure it out. i’m her dad and i can’t figure it out and i’m not home often enough to look after her twenty-four-seven. please give me a chance. i’ll pay you—i’ll do whatever.”

“uh, kenji,” you said cautiously, leaning down to pick your stuff up, “you know that i know nothing about kaiju, right?” he leant down beside you to help you, cheeks tinted pink.

“it’s okay, can you try?”

“i can try, i guess,” you said dubiously, but you had to admit that you were at least curious. you’d never been this close to a kaiju before, and if anything, they were still animals of some sort. you wanted to see. you wanted to learn.

you didn’t really hear kenji’s blurted out thanks as you carefully crept closer to the sleeping pink creature, knocked out completely, curled up on her side. pulling out a stethoscope, you started to gently listen to her heartbeat from her wrist—the closest part of her you felt safe enough to touch, and she stirred, but didn’t wake.

it sounded normal—you guessed. for a creature as big as her, you supposed her heart rate would be really slow. especially when sleeping.

you did all your checks without her really waking, and that was ideal—you’d prefer she didn’t. as much as kenji reassured you that she was harmless, you were dubious that a creature this big wouldn’t hurt you.

“kenji,” you said, after you were done, unpacking some of your medications, “she’s growing up. she’s hitting prepubescence, you’re right. but also, she’s sick.”

“w-what do you mean? she’s—,”

“she has a cold,” you explained, and his panic deflated slightly as you gave him the largest bottle you had in your supplies, “you can give these to her. this’ll only last her today, so you’ll have to buy a shit ton of this medication, but i’ll give you a prescription and the phone of my supplier so you can get it fast. she should be okay in a week or so. but then again, she’s a kaiju, so it may take longer, depending.”

when you looked up, kenji was looking at you deeply, so earnestly and so gratefully, the bottle of pills set on the kitchen bench beside the two of you. you were closer to him than you’d been for years—even closer than that day on the car. suddenly, you were hyper aware of the way you swallowed as you met his gaze, your heart rate quickening.

“thank you, y/n,” he said quietly, “i...” he didn’t come closer, but he glanced down at his own hands before looking back up, “i really missed you, you know.”

“i missed you too, kenji,” you breathed, in disbelief a bit at the way you felt—just like you used to feel whenever he looked at you. you hoped he couldn’t hear how quick and heavily your heart was pounding ink your chest.

he broke out into a warm smile, “i’m really glad i ran into you, that night.”

***

incoming call...kenji sato.

you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face as you reached for your buzzing phone.

“hello?”

[blue-sadie]

Lust Filled Touches

Astarion x Reader x Halsin

Summary: based off of this post

Warning: lust spell, double penetration, breeding, standing sex

Yn/3rd person pov

They noticed your whole group noticed your change in behavior after the ambush, a group of weak mages came out of nowhere and hit you with a spell before they were beaten to a pulp by your companions.

Your friends all kept an eye on you especially astarion and halsin which only made the spell take more effect on you, you clench your thighs together as soon as your body felt their gaze on it.

You shivered every time they layed a comforting hand on your shoulder but shit it got worse when they spoke to you when they would bend to meet your gaze it only drove you more insane.

"My tav are you sure your alright" I had to hold myself back from letting out a pitiful whine as astarion crouched infront of me "you can tell me anything" he grabbed my hands and held them tightly in his "I'm here for you" his eyes held a pleadingness in them.

I shook my head and pulling my hands away from his "i-im gonna hurt you" I choked out loudly looking anywhere but him, he stood up slowly and reached out to touch my face but I flinch away.

My skin burning at his close proximity I heard him gulp and slowly caressed my face with his finger tips, I leaned into his touch relaxing against him closing my eyes "astarion" I moaned making him freeze.

My heart clenched as I realized what I had just done I slowly let my eyes flutter open cringing into myself as I saw his shocked expression "I'm I'm sorry" I squeaked and took off running away in embarrassment.

Tears started to roll down my face as I ran this stupid spell was making everything worse, I collapsed at the nearby creak crying out as my skin started burning from where he touched me.

Astarion pov

I stood there frozen few a seconds the sound of her moaning my name repeating in my mind "astarion where is tav" halsin asked as he and gale approached me I opened and closed my mouth my brows frowning in confusion.

"She just left" I murmured letting my eyes move to them and slowly letting my hand fall from its position "gale here might know what's wrong with her" halsin said smiling confidently and gestured for gale to speak.

He cleared his throat and glanced at both me and halsin nervously "spit it out" I muttered wanting to get to the bottom of this "a lust spell" he murmured making mine and halsins eyes widen "what" halsin asked confusion laced in his voice.

"Don't ask but I was looking through the mages belongs and found a tome with one of the pages mark so I opened it and there it was a lust spell" he grinned like he just accomplished something great I rolled my eyes "how do you know for certain" I asked as I folded my arms.

"Well the obvious sighs" he chuckled I snarled at him as a warning making him shut up "what sighs" halsin murmured as he put a hand on my shoulder keeping me from lunging at gale.

"Well not being able to be still under your gaze, shivering everytime you touch her not being able to focus when you speak" he spoke as if we should already noticed we just watched as he waited for a response from us.

"Guys come on its obvious you guys are her only hope at getting back to normal" he groaned rubbing his face "what makes you think that" I snapped getting irritable.

"If you guys don't see her very obvious feelings towards you, you need to get glasses or the fact you guys already act as a fucking couple" gale stuffed his laughter behind his hands and a few of the other nosey companions did they same.

Halsin and I felt flushed as we glanced at eachother "shell we go and find her" halsin asked me gesturing to the woods "after you" I grinned and we slowly made our way in leaving the camp behind.

Yn/3rd person pov

I cried out as I failed once again to make myself climax "fuck fuck fuck" I yelled knocking my head back against the tree I was sitting up against it felt as if it was hours from the incident, the burning of where astarion grazed his finger tips as subsided.

"Astarion halsin" I cried out praying that they would come to my rescue, it was starting to hurt every where, my breathing was becoming uneven and rigid and my eyes started to blur.

"Aww look halsin it already looks like we fucked her" my body shivered as I heard his voice and his nearing footsteps "astarion" I whined grabbing ahold of his shirt and pulling myself into him snuggling deeply into him.

He stroked my hair cooing at me I peered over his shoulder at halsin who was looking everywhere but me since I long discarded my clothes on the floor "halsin" I whined out causing his ears to flicker.

"Come on halsin stop being such a tease tav here is ready to be fucked stupid by the both of us" astarion grinned seductively as he turned me so I was standing full view of halsin who gradually turned his gaze to me.

"She already dripping" astarion trailed his hands slowly down my body as he spoke teasing my skin with his nails my eyes trained to halsins as he watched me carefully "ready for her needy hole to be filled" I let out a sharp gasped as astarion stuck one of his fingers inside me slowly thrusting it in and out.

Halsins chest rumbled as he let out a deep growl before he started nearing us only stopping a few inches away "h-halsin" I pleaded looking deeply into his eyes "please" and as that word left my lips his calm demeanor snapped.

His large hand grabbed hold of my neck as he crashed his lips against my in a possessive kiss "fuck" astarion cursed into my ear as he too wanted to join in on our fun, astarions lips attached to my neck using his fangs to tease my skin.

"Do you think she can take both of us" halsin asked as he pulled away from my lips causing me to whine astarion chuckled against my skin "my sweet halsin in this state she can take 10 of us can't you baby" he nipped at my earlobe making my body shivered "yes I can" I moaned out making them both chuckle.

"I guess we'll have to test that out" halsin said as they moved away from me to strip off their clothes I marveled at they body's and huge cocks my mouth started to water just st the sight.

"Fuck she looks so good" halsin growled as they returned to their positions they both leaned down attaching themselves to each side of my neck kissing and nipping on my skin.

I let out soft whines and whimpers "s-stop teasing" I murmured they grinned against my skin and that's when I felt it "fuck" I screamed out loudly as they both pushed in, I could feel myself split into two.

They gritted their teeth cursing as they held themselves back waiting for me to adjust I moaned out as got comfortable "your brilliant my tav" astarion praised as they started thrusting.

Their grunts and growls drowning out the sound of my cries of pleasure halsin pressed his lips to mine in a soft kiss making my mind go wild he pulled back and did they same with astarion "I truly love they both of you" he groaned out admittedly.

The burning sensation increasing at his words "I love you too" I moaned out making astarion nip at my neck "don't forget about me to my darling" he grunted I turned my head to the side and captured his lips with him.

"I love you" I whispered, something in his eyes changed from pure lust to love and his thrusts became harder as he looked at halsin before speaking "how about we cum inside to show the world she's ours".

I clenched myself around as halsin growled out 'fuck yes' I could sense we were all close to cumming "please cum inside me" I begged, my moans heightening as I felt them both pulse inside me.

"Fuck" we scream out loud enough I'm sure the camp heard us, I cried out as I felt them feel me up with their cum my eyes widening as I noticed my stomach bulging at the amount their released inside me.

"Your ours tav" astarion growled as they gently guided us to lay on the ground they spoke kinds words to me as their fingers gently traced patterns onto my skin making me become tired quite quickly "goodnight darling".

The next morning I already felt better the spell must have worn off but when I opened my eyes I as stared up at the two boy and their lust filled gazes I slightly shifted and gasped as I felt their hard cocks pushed up against me I gulped nervously as astarion leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"Now now tav its only fair since we helped you out its only fair if you return the favor"

Tag.List

@bloodlessbhaalbabe @sweetirilly @lonelyhumanoid @neteyamyawne @greekgods15

[silent-stories]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒

(aka noah is looking too cute in his hoodie and you can't resist)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting soft golden beams across the room. The air smelled faintly of coffee, and the low hum of the TV provided a gentle background noise. You sat on the couch beside Noah, legs folded under you, your body turned slightly towards him. He sat close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, his familiar scent filling the space between you.

Noah had been talking for what felt like hours about this new video game he’d been playing, a glimmer of excitement lighting up his brown eyes.

His hands moved animatedly as he described a particularly intense boss fight, the sleeves of his oversized black hoodie hanging loosely over his knuckles.

You loved the way he looked in that hoodie. It was one of his favorites —worn and soft, slightly too big on his frame, making him look even more comfortable, if that was even possible. The way the hood flopped lazily over his head made him look effortlessly cozy. Effortlessly boyfriend.

You weren't really listening to what he was saying anymore, though. Your mind was elsewhere, lost in the easy cadence of his voice, the way his lips curved around his words, the way he’d glance at you every so often, as if checking to see if you were still following his story.

You’d known Noah for years, ever since you’d met through mutual friends. Over time, the two of you had grown close—late-night hangouts, inside jokes, and endless text threads about music, games, and everything in between.

It was the kind of friendship you cherished, but it also held a secret you weren’t sure you could keep to yourself any longer.

You liked him. More than liked him. In fact, you might be in love with him.

It wasn’t a sudden realization, though. The feeling had been there for months, slowly building every time he sent you a good morning text, or when he smiled at you in that soft, shy way of his. The crush had bloomed quietly, and you thought you could manage it, thought you could just push it aside and stay content with being friends.

But sitting here, so close to him, watching him light up over something as mundane as a video game, your heart ached with the weight of it. He looked so perfect in this moment, so comfortable and happy, and all you could think was that you wanted to kiss him so badly.

Your eyes drifted down to the hoodie he was wearing, the fabric bunching slightly as he pulled his arms back, resting them behind his head. The loose fit made him seem even softer, more like the guy you’d always imagined being with, not some distant, impossible dream, but someone real, right in front of you.

His hair was messy, falling into his face as he absentmindedly pushed it back, too focused on recounting his latest gaming adventure to notice the way your gaze lingered on him.

“—and then, after all that, the boss pulls this insane move, like totally unpredictable,” Noah was saying, his voice full of excitement. He leaned forward slightly, as if the memory alone was making his heart race all over again. “I thought for sure I was done for, but I got this idea, you know? Like everything just clicked.”

You nodded, but your thoughts were far from the battle he was describing. Instead, you were focused on how his hoodie seemed to swallow him up, the sleeves long, the fabric worn and soft, practically begging to be touched. He looked so… cozy. So sweet. You could imagine him lounging around in that hoodie all day, maybe curled up on the couch with you, his arm wrapped around you as you watched movies together, maybe even falling asleep on your shoulder. The image was so vivid, it made your heart swell.

“You should try it,” Noah said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. You blinked, realizing you hadn’t caught a word of what he’d just said. He was staring at you now, his eyes soft with concern. “Are you okay? You’ve been kinda quiet.”

Your heart jumped at the sudden attention. “Yeah, sorry. I was just... thinking.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he turned his body a little more towards you, giving you his full attention. “Thinking about what?”

You swallowed hard, not sure how to answer. What could you say? Thinking about how ridiculously cute you look in that hoodie? Or maybe, Thinking about how much I want to kiss you right now? No, those wouldn’t do. You were already feeling vulnerable, your emotions bubbling too close to the surface, threatening to spill over if you said the wrong thing.

“Nothing important,” you said, trying to brush it off. “Just… lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

Noah didn’t seem convinced. His eyes softened, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. “Come on, I know you better than that. What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, your gaze flicking down to his hoodie again. It was such a small thing, but it felt like the embodiment of everything you’d been feeling lately—how close you were to him, how comfortable, how easy it was to be in his presence, and yet how painfully aware you were of the unspoken feelings between you.

He looked so casual, so effortlessly himself, and for some reason, that made it harder to keep pretending that your feelings were purely platonic.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. Before you could second-guess yourself, before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you. Your hand found his chest, lightly resting against his chest as you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was soft, tentative. You hadn’t planned it, hadn’t thought it through—you just felt it. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. The world around you disappeared, and all that was left was the warmth of Noah’s lips against yours, the way his body froze in surprise for just a second before he responded.

His hand reached up, almost instinctively, cupping your cheek as he kissed you back, his touch gentle but sure.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath coming out in uneven puffs.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him right away, suddenly unsure of what you’d just done. Had you ruined everything? Was he going to pull back, tell you it was a mistake?

But when you finally forced yourself to meet his gaze, Noah was looking at you with an expression you hadn’t seen before. His lips were slightly parted, still processing what had just happened, but there was no confusion, no rejection. Instead, there was something softer.

“So… that’s what you’ve been thinking about?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed nervously. “Yeah… something like that.”

For a moment, there was only silence between you. You were waiting for him to say something—anything—but instead, he just stared at you, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to figure out what this all meant.

“I—” you started, but before you could say another word, Noah leaned in and kissed you again.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t tentative or unsure. It was full of something deeper, something that had been simmering between you for so long, waiting for the right moment to spill over.

His hand found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, as if he’d been holding back for too long and was finally allowing himself to feel.

When he pulled back this time, a little smile was on his lips.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah?”

Noah nodded, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he finally pulled back enough to look at you. “Yeah… for a while now. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “What?”

He chuckled, his fingers still gently brushing the side of your face. “Why do you think I’ve been coming over here so much? It wasn’t just to talk about video games for sure.”

You laughed, the sound coming out a little shaky. “I thought you were just being a good friend.”

“I mean, I am,” he teased, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “But I guess I wanted to be a little more than your friend."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, the tension you hadn’t realized you’d been holding finally starting to ease. All this time, you’d been worried that your feelings would ruin things, that you’d be the one to overstep, but now… now everything felt right. Like maybe this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

Noah smiled softly, his hand slipping from your cheek to your waist as he pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around you in a way that felt so natural, so easy. You rested your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing your nerves.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to relax, to sink into the warmth of him, of this moment, of the quiet realization that you didn’t have to hide your feelings anymore.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

[theemporium]

What about Max maxplaining Trouble? Like not to Trouble, but about Trouble to someone. He’s just gushing about her or maybe he’s telling someone that no they can’t do “x” b/c that’s not the way Trouble prefers it done. And everyone is just so confused about why Max knows something so random about Trouble.

kinda made this into a wee sick fic but enjoy! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Max, I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Sorry for taking your health seriously. Now, give Danny the phone.”

If someone told you that Max Verstappen was an overbearing mother hen before you met him, you would have laughed in their face. You had heard many things about him, and that certainly wasn’t one you would have believed. Even in the early stages of your friendship, you would have never really pegged him as the type. He was caring, yes. 

But this? This was a whole new level.

You were sick. Nothing crazy or insane, just a simple flu that left you feeling a bit under the weather and longing for your bed. But apparently to Max, it was equivalent to you being on your deathbed. 

Unfortunately for him, he had to fly out to England for a few meetings at the factory that required his presence. He tried arguing Christian over the phone about it, but ultimately lost that battle and was forced to take his private jet out.

You made the mistake in thinking that you would be able to get a few days of quiet rest to recover. Because only mother hen Max Verstappen would send someone to do exactly what he would do if he was able to stay by your side.

“Did you get her a blanket?”

Daniel tried to suppress his laughter and remain serious as he held your phone in his hand, watching Max on the screen scrutinising every little detail about your setup in your bed.

“Yes, I—”

“You got the wrong blanket,” Max stated bluntly.

You sighed. “Max, it’s fine—”

“Stop saying that, schatz, when it’s not,” Max retorted before his focus returned to the Aussie. “She likes the cream one in the hallway cupboard. Should be on the third shelf.”

Daniel nodded. “Right, got it.” 

“Did you get her medicine?”

“Oh yeah,” Daniel said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I got her some cough syrup from the pharmacy down the—”

“Which flavour?”

“Cherry,” Daniel said.

Max scoffed. “Mate, she hates cherry. You need to get the orange flavoured one.”

“Max,” you groaned as you nuzzled yourself further into the endless amount of pillows your boyfriend had made Daniel surround you in. “Cherry is fine. I just have to take a spoonful once a day, or whatever it is.”

“Three times a day,” Max said, his brows furrowed together. “And you hate artificial cherry flavouring. You said it makes you want to throw up.”

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

“I’ll get her the orange flavoured one,” Daniel said with a laugh, finding it adorable how caring Max was. “Anything else, helicopter boyfriend?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Max grumbled. “But yes. I have left menus on the kitchen counter, I’ll send you what she likes and what she wants to get but always refuses until it’s in front of her. Also, there should be a list of movies I sent you that are her comfort movies that you can—”

“This is creepy, Verstappen, it’s like you’re my stalker or something,” you muttered, even if your heart was swooning at the small details he remembered about you.

“Lil’ Maxie just loves his Trouble,” Daniel grinned wildly. “He doesn’t shut up about you. He could probably go on for hours if we let him.”

“More like days,” Max corrected before he continued to explain everything you would need to his friend, whilst you laid there with a fond smile on your face.

.

[storiesfromafan]

Insane - Benny x Reader

A/N: I had some fun with this one haha. Though I feel like I should have done it differently...oh well 😅

Prompt/s: "Not you again"

"Don't look at me like that, I'm trying to be serious right now"

Previous: Drinks, Persistent

Tag list: @strayrockette

You thought Benny was persistent, but now you thought he was just insane! After following you last night, constantly telling you to get on his bike and he'd take you home, which you ignored. You made it home with your shadow in tow. Once out front of your house, you turned and walked up the path to the porch of your house. Not once looking back, even when you heard the engine cut out.

Stepping up the few stairs and moving to unlock the front door, you stepped inside before turning around to close it. Pausing for a moment, you looked out into the street. The sight of Benny sitting upon his bike, watching you made you roll your eyes before shutting and locking the door. Not a second thought for the Vandal.

Neither of your parents were awake when you got home, which was good. You didn't want your mother interrogating you about your date. Let alone trying to come up with a white lie about why you had walked home, or explain the Vandal that was out the front. Shuffling up stairs you cleaned up, got ready for bed and finally got under the covers. Not long after sleep took over.

Though it was easy to fall asleep, it didn't seem to last. Waking up at four in the morning, you got up and went to the bathroom. Upon returning to your bedroom, for some unknown reason you looked out the window. And to your shock, and horror, none other then Benny Cross was across the street, leaning against his bike. You looked to the clock on your beside table, which told you it was almost four-thirty. You'd gotten home around ten-thirty. He'd been out there for almost six hours!

You groaned. “Not you again!”

Now fully awake, fear running through you at what your father would do if he saw Benny, you grabbed your robe and hastily put it on. Once secured and some shoes on your feet, you flew out of your room, down the stairs and across the lounge room to the front door. As quietly as you could, you unlocked the door and opened it. Stepping onto the porch, you closed the door just as quietly.

Silently you moved down the porch stairs and down the path. With what you hoped was a stern look upon your face, you crossed the street and come to stand before Benny with your hands on your hips. He had watched you since you left the house. Casually taking a drag of his cigarette and releasing the smoke a few times. When you stopped before him, did he flick it off to the side, before getting comfortable in his spot. Enjoying the attempt at a stern look on your beautiful face.

“What are you doing?!” You asked with a sharp edge, yet keeping your voice down. “If my parents – especially my father – see's you, they'll loose it!”

Benny smirked, yet remained quiet. Enjoying how frazzled you were.

“You have to leave, now!” You said, casting a look back to your house and then around you both. “Seriously Benny, you have to go!”

Still ignoring your words, he cast a look up and down. Taking in your robe clad form and messy bed hair. A sight that he was truly was enjoying, even thinking about what could be under that robe.

“Have to say, I like ya dresses” he began, bringing his gaze back to your face. “But I think I like this look so much more".

You were shocked, and then flustered by Benny's words. Which was not even on the same topic as you. The way he was looking at you, a heated gaze, eyes smouldering. Damn this man and his infernal gaze. It was twisting your stomach and making it hard to think.

“Don't look at me like that, I'm trying to be serious right now” you managed to get out without a stutter. “You have to get out of here, now Benny!”

“And what if I don’t?” He challenged, smirk crossing his lips as he made himself even more comfortable on his bike.

A noise of frustration left your lips. “You have gotta be kidding me" you said out loud. “Why must you be so insufferable!?”

Yet again Benny remained quiet, enjoying the show you were putting on for him. You continued to tell him to leave, even pleading him too. But he never said a word or moved. Guess its true that payback was a bitch.

“What will it take to get you to leave!?” You stressed, glaring daggers at the man before you.

Than a sly smile formed on his lips, instantly you regretted your words. For you had a feeling you knew what Benny was about to say. And you wanted to kick yourself.

“Go for a ride with me" was Benny's reply.

“E-excuse me?” You half croaked. A little surprised by his request, as it wasn’t what you thought he'd say.

Standing up to his full height, Benny looked down at you, blue eyes holding your gaze. “Go for a ride with me...” – he looked down at your attire once more – “not right now, but later today".

You were floored. And a little surprised. Out of all the things he could have requested, it was to go on a ride with him. What happened to making you his? Was this some kind of trick? And so you voiced these thoughts, which made him chuckle.

“Princess, I know after a ride with me, you'll change ya tune and you'll be beginnin' to be mine", and he winked.

There it was. The cocky Vandal from the bar. You rolled your eyes. “Sure I will”.

A triumphant smile crossed his face. “So, ya agree to go on a ride with me?”

You stepped back. “If it means I get you out of here before my parents wake; yeah. I guess I am".

With that you turned around and headed back to your house. But once you reached your side of the road you turned around and told him to pick me up from around the corner at midday. You didn't wait for a response before going back inside. As you quietly closed and locked the door, you heard the bike's engine roar to life. Resting against the closed door, you smiled softly as he heard Benny take off down your street.

So you have to go on a ride with Benny. It was just a little ride. It wouldn't mean anything, would it?

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

I saw your Girl dad! Josh post!

….Bill in his girl dad arc when (JK! JK!….unless)

(Lol lock tf in chat this is gonna get interesting to say the least

Bill dickey as a Girl Dad headcannons

1. "You're Not Dating Anyone Until You're Thirty-Five."

Bill is insanely overprotective but in the worst possible way. He doesn't trust anyone, especially boys. If his daughter so much as mentions a crush, he launches into a 15-minute rant about how “men are scum, and I should know, because I am one!”

2. Turns Her into a Nerd by Force.

He starts her on comics, sci-fi, and horror movies from the womb. Think “Alien” at age six and mandatory Sunday night viewings of Twilight Zone.

“You don’t get to sleep until you can name the entire creative team behind Swamp Thing vol. 2.”

3. Absolutely Cannot Handle Emotions.

She cries? He panics. He just stands there holding a Mountain Dew can like, “Uh… do you want… a Funko Pop or something? Stop leaking! I didn’t raise a weakling!”

4. The Most Toxic PTA Parent Ever.

He shows up to school meetings in a black trench coat, rants about the school’s media literacy failures, and says things like, “If my daughter’s being bullied, I will sue. I have lawyers. I know people on forums. Don’t test me.”

5. Secretly the Best Coach in a Weird Way.

Bill is a ruthless perfectionist when she shows interest in anything creative. “If you’re gonna draw anime, do it right. These proportions? Amateur. You call this anatomy? This is CalArts-tier crap, and I won’t allow it under my roof.”

But his standards push her to be really, really good—even if she wants to murder him half the time.

6. Grudgingly Proud Dad Mode

She wins an art contest or aces a project? He brags nonstop for a month—but never directly to her face.

“She’s not bad. I mean, obviously she got the talent from me. But yeah, whatever. I guess she’s okay.”

7. Hyper Fixates on Her Interests to “Vet” Them

If she likes something he doesn’t understand (like K-pop), he goes full rage-research mode. Watches 6-hour YouTube essays. Then returns to say things like:

“Okay. So this Jungkook guy? I guess he’s talented. Still don’t trust him.”

8. Accidentally Raises a Girl Just Like Him

One day she quotes The Thing perfectly, destroys a boy in an online debate, and calls someone a “poser” for not knowing Kirby’s original designs. Bill just stares and mutters, “My work here is done.”

9. Will Go to War for Her

She never sees it, but if anyone seriously messes with her? He’s already on the dark web tracking their IP address. His threats are too specific.

“You want me to drop their home address or are we playing the long game?”

10. Sentimental? Nope. Never. (Okay, Maybe Once.)

He keeps a photo of her in his wallet, folded and beat up. He never talks about it.

But sometimes, when she’s not around, he looks at it and sighs.

“She’s… fine. Not like she makes me proud or anything. Idiot.”

“The Coat”

Bill was elbow-deep in a tote labeled "CON BADGES / UNTOUCHED GARBAGE", muttering under his breath about how these kids wouldn’t know practical effects if they crawled out of a latex womb, when his daughter walked in—dragging the massive, beat-up orange flannel from the back of his closet behind her.

It was practically a robe on her. Oversized, worn, and clinging to the smell of years of conventions, bad takeout, and Bill’s lingering rage.

Daughter:

“…Can I wear this to school tomorrow?”

Bill turned like she’d just asked to burn his comic collection.

Bill:

“That? You mean my coat? The coat I wore to every screening of The Thing between ‘92 and ‘06? The coat I nearly got kicked out of Wizard World for wearing over a Gremlins tee because some idiot thought I was doing a bit?”

Daughter: (nodding calmly)

“Yeah. That one.”

Bill: (offended beyond comprehension)

“Why would you want to wear that? You trying to look like a failed screenwriter with back problems?!”

Daughter:

“It’s warm. And I like how it smells. Like… your weird soap and burnt pizza.”

Bill: (pointing dramatically)

“That’s character! You don’t earn that smell, you live in it.”

Daughter:

“I want to live in it. Just for the day.”

That shut him up for a second. He looked at her—dwarfed by his rage-blanket of a coat, arms poking out like she was wrapped in a sleeping bag—and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like: “…you’re a menace…”

Bill: (grumbling)

“Fine. But if anyone spills anything on it, anyone—you, your friends, some gluten-free goober with a juice box—I will rain hellfire upon that school. I will march in there, I will quote John Carpenter until they expel themselves, and I will not be held responsible for what happens next.”

Daughter: (grinning)

“Love you too, Dad.”

Bill:

“I didn’t say that. I don’t believe in love. I believe in practical effects and staying angry.”

She rolled her eyes, already backing out of the room.

Daughter:

“Sure. I’ll be careful. I swear on your limited edition ‘Murder of Crows’ box set.”

Bill: (horrified)

“DON’T YOU JOKE ABOUT THAT—!”

But she was gone. And he was left staring at the empty spot where the coat had been, rubbing his temples and muttering:

Bill:

“Kid’s gonna be the death of me. In the best possible way.”

[drinksondaph]

.ೃ࿐𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 » S.H

.ೃ࿐ PAIRING– Steve Harrington X fem!reader

.ೃ࿐WARNINGS– enemies to “lovers”, name calling, slight degradation, choking, finger stuff, nicknames, sexual acts in a public setting, sweaty men mention 18+

.ೃ࿐A/N – uhmmmmm first writing on this account, I've written on here before but wanted to start something new, request if you would like, I'm in a writing mood anddd lmk who else I should write for. Enjoyyyyyy mwah.

Steve Harrington is a pain in the ass

For 1,248 days he has done nothing but torment you, say slick shit behind your back, to your face, and on your fucking locker, how childish!

But for 1,248 days you've done nothing but fight back, called his phone and told him he won a life supply of Farrah Faucet spray (which he didn't) and you dropped off an empty pizza box to his house. Two ways to break a mans heart.

You hated Steve and Steve hated you that as that. It will always be that. Right?

There were twenty minutes until the last basketball game of the season, the last basketball game of Steve's entire high school career before he went off and graduated, doing who knows what after. He was gonna miss his friends, his status, how your legs looked in those knee high socks you always wore—Steve shook his head, fuck, he couldn't go in the game with a hard-on, he splashed cold water on his face, trying to remove the thought of you, you you you

You groaned as Nancy dragged you into the gym—hundreds of your peers crowding the bleachers, she continued to tug on your arm despite your protest, “Nancy, this is so fucking stupid, I don't want to see a bunch of guys running and sweating everywhere” you whined

Nancy gasped, “Are you insane?! Who doesn't want to see sweaty guys running around” she giggled and finally she pulled you into a seat

You can't believe you were here, you don't do basketball games you don't do school sports, especially if those sports consist of a big haired boy with an inflating ego

Just as the game was gonna start there was a commotion behind you, six smaller heads rushing into the seat, Nancy turned around to see her brother and his friends sitting content on the wooden bleachers “Mike! What the hell are you doing here?”

The boy in question scoffed, rolling his eyes, “We came to watch the game Nancy, don't flatter yourself”

You muffled your laughs with your hand as the siblings continued to squabble but soon after an obnoxious buzz interrupted the moment and Hawkins High's very own basketball team ran out to the court

Sighing, you prepared to be in your own personal hell for the next two hours

...

The game got fairly interesting, score coming down to 12-10 by the second quarter. You've made eye contact with Steve a few times each time ending with a sneer, you were mad, mad at yourself for eying Steve's arms as they flexed, the sweat on his skin shining under the reflection of the gym lights

The buzzer did what it does best and buzzed, signaling half time, you rolled your eyes and tapped on Nancy's shoulder, “Hey, I'm gonna go use the bathroom”

she nodded at you, giving you a thumbs up before you slipped out the bleachers, various bodies crowding the hallway, you just made your way to the restroom when you saw a big line forming out the door and along the bricked walls a sigh rolled through your lips before you eyed your surroundings until you you spotted the staff bathroom

scanning your eyes through the crowd, you slipped into the secluded restroom, quickly hopping from foot to foot until you reached the stall, you actually had to piss really bad and you wanted to grab a snack

quickly pulling down your skirt as you hovered over the toilet, finally getting the relief you needed, better than a fucking orgasm

Suddenly the bathroom handle started to jerk, nearly making you fall into the the toilet. Nervously you looked around realizing an actual staff member could come in, there was one stall. You were Fucked.

instinctively you deepened your voice, calling out “Uhm, occupied!”

that's when you heard a deep chuckle that came from a man causing you to panic a bit more—you yanked the skirt back over your hips, was your adult voice slightly convincing? Hell no

You decided to peek through the crack, trying to see how bad the damage would be when you glimpsed at a pair of slender legs clad in miniscule shorts, the ones the basketball team wore, you rolled your eyes realizing who the legs belonged to, “Fuckin' hell, Steven”

you let out a sigh, one you didn't know you've been holding in, you nimbly unlatched the stall lock, not paying attention to the smug boy who pushed himself off the wall, following you to the sink

“I'm honored you recognize me so easily sweetheart, truly”

You scoffed at his faux sincerity “Yeah well, your smell was telltale sign”

“I smell wonderous, thank you very much” Harrington bought his hand up to his chest faking offense once again

“Why the fuck are you here!?” your eyebrows furrowed as you glanced at him through the mirror

Truth be told he didn't know why he was here. He may or may not have seen you slip into the bathroom over the crowd, he can accidentally always notice when you would walk into, and out of a room, even if it was filled with tons of people

“The real question is what are you doing here?” he crossed his arms, leaning on the sink next to you, watching the warm water cascade through your fingers

“I was obviously taking a piss before you came prancing in here with t-those, booty shorts!”

Steve practically shrieked an amused, yet bewildered look on his face as he stared a you “you wish I was in booty shorts!”

you scoffed, the rough paper towel scratching at your hand as you murmured “slut”

Steve audibly gasped—the nerve of you

“you're one to talk”

“I know you're not calling me a slut–spell it!”

You don't know how but suddenly Steve's chest was pressed against yours as your back was pushed into the sink, the both of your breathing got heavier as his brown eyes gazed into yours

That's when he attached his lips to yours and brought you into a heated kiss, his tongue slipping through the small opening of your lips causing you to snap back into reality and push at Steve's chest

“You're a fucking asshole”

He pulled you to his lips again, his hold on your jaw never faltering, his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, collecting the remainder of your chapstick from the plump skin, right before he pulled away, “Don't think I never notice the way you check me out huh?”

His voice, laced in lust, causing you to squeeze your thighs together, attempting to relive the ache between your legs “you're delusional”

Steve brought his hand up to your neck, you attempted to keep an unfaltering composure as he applied slight pressure, but your eyes betrayed you as they began to roll back

He let out a light chuckle “So if I were to reach into your panties right now, you wouldn't be soaking wet?”

You frantically shook your head, not trusting yourself to utter a single word

Steve lifted your skirt and flowingly slipped two fingers into your undergarments, swiping through your folds and collecting your wetness in the process

Fuck you bitch you mentally spoke to your pussy

The pads of his fingers began to circle your clit and his grip on your neck got tighter, the sound of your slick and moans caused Steve's dick to stir in his pants

“You know you never were a good liar sweetheart” he rasped into your ear, pushing his middle finger inside of you while his thumb continued to rub circles on your bud

“M-more, please Steve I need more” your legs started to grow weak as his fingers reached deep parts of you that you've never even touched before

He easily slipped his pointer in next and began to make rapid movements in your pussy

“ Yeah? And you called me the slut earlier, yet look at you,” The sensation he caused in between your legs and the pressure he applied to your throat made you dizzy “Tell me who the real slut is baby, hmm?”

Your wetness coated your thighs as you felt Steve's hard on nudge your leg, you wish you were able to focus so you could pull it out right then and there and have his cum coat multiple parts of your body

“Fuck! I'm the slut baby, I'm the slut”

Damn it.

A smug look danced on his face as your low eyes bet his “Atta girl, I bet that's what the school would think too if they knew you were begging for little ole me”

Steve curled his fingers inside you and sped the movement on your clit up, the knot in your stomach tightened as he continued to whisper dirty words in your ear

“Yeah baby cum alll on my fingers, there you go”

“I can cum from just hearing your sweet sounds”

“You feel what you do to me?”

“Let everyone who's slut you are, go ahead”

“Fuck Steve, I'm cumming” your tongue started to go numb as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your pussy clenched around his fingers causing his movements to still

You snapped back to reality, your breathing heavy as Steve removed his fingers from you, you feeling significantly empty compared to when he was deep inside you, you watched as he licked his fingers clean of your wetness, a moan leaving his lips as he sucked on the tips of his fingers

“Wow”

You rolled your eyes straightening your skirt as you tried to steady yourself on your feet, still trying to catch your breath, you ignored Steve's eyes on you

“Knew some day I'd have begging for me sweetheart”

You huffed, “Don't you have a game to get to Steven?”

Steve's eyes widen as he stood up straight “Oh shit!”

[sualocin]

"I wasn't lying when I said that I loved you." Ch. 5 - Blissful Thoughts

Emp!Commodus x Reader

summary: everything hurts and smells of blood. can you be saved?

content warning: angst, hurt / comfort, graphic descriptions and various mentions of blood and violence, commodus being absolutely insane, the L word, medical and historical inaccuracies

word count: 4.1k (oops tehehehe)

a/n: it's finally here! oml this took me so long. when i said i'd give y'all extra, i meant it! enjoy this mammoth of a chapter! sorry not sorry for the gif usage >:)

not beta'd

blog dividers by @cafekitsune

masterlist . . . read it on ao3 . . .

The night that Commodus walked away from you will forever remain in his memories. The internal shame he felt at your words burrowed deep inside of him, driving him to do what he knows how to do best. Ignore, avoid, and do anything to prevent himself from seeing you in an effort to atone for his sins against you. And he did exactly so, keeping himself hidden during the months leading up to the wedding so you wouldn’t have the unfortunate chance of laying your eyes upon him. So he wouldn’t ruin you further. It was for the best really, but he was the only one that had thought so. The only one who would ever think so. He couldn’t see the pain he was putting you through with his disappearing act, but everyone else could. They could see the sleepless nights on your face, the diminished shine of your eyes without him around. You had begun to truly suffer without his presence around you. Lucilla, who was the first to notice these changes in you, slipped letters under his chamber door almost daily. Begging and pleading with him to talk to you, to apologize or even just to show his face to you. Anything would have been better than what he had been doing. 

The letter Lucilla slipped under his door the morning before the wedding made him finally see the harm he had done to you, yet again. Her words about how he should have been there by your side, to hold you and comfort you when the stress of it all was too much for you to bear shattered his heart. His tears blotted the parchment, ruining the ink spread across it. Yet he didn’t care about destroying the words written  upon the page. The only thing in his mind was that in an effort to make himself pay for his actions, you had suffered as well. It took hours of anxious pacing around his chambers to think of what he was going to say to you. Because Commodus had to apologize. He had to let you know that his self-hatred drove him to do this. That his insecurities got the best of him yet again. He wanted you to understand this before you were to be bound to him for life.

The dark hallways obscured the crumpled bodies of the guards until he was nearly right in front of your door. Focused on their bleeding broken forms, Commodus could feel his breathing pick up, anxious fear flooding his system and sending his senses on high alert. There was no way you had done this. So who did? Were you okay? Were you even in your chambers? The rising scent of blood and the whispers of  muffled crying coming out of the cracks between the doors channeled his anxiety and fear into cautious action. Quietly unsheathing his blade,  Commodus tried to glance through the gap between the doors. He was only able to make out an unknown figure hovering over your bed. He couldn’t catch a glimpse of you at all. The cautiousness turned quickly to anger and then rage. The thought of someone hurting you fueled his ever present anxiety and nervousness to the max., driving him to rush into your chambers to save you without thinking.

You couldn’t see who burst into the room from your position on the bed, your view blocked by the man trying to carve latin into your stomach. The loud clangs of the doors hitting the walls sent him into a panic. He had stopped his work immediately, forcefully pulling you in front of him to act as a potential shield against whatever was going to be coming to him. Your warm blood now runs straight down your body, soaking into a once untouched part of the bed. The dagger still held tightly in his hand, smeared with your blood, rests now near the open cut on your neck while his other arm was wound tightly around your torso so you couldn’t escape. The placement of the dagger most likely a threat for whoever just interrupted his plans to torture and kill you. Your eyes had screwed shut in pain at the harsh movements he forced you through,  gasps of pain ringing free without the man covering them with his hand.

“Open your eyes sweetie, tell me who dares to interrupt my precious work,” The man harshly whispered into your ear, the pet name laced with venom and dagger pressing further into your throat as he spoke. When you finally opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of a disheveled and absolutely pissed off Commodus brandishing his sword. You can see the rage in his eyes from your position, the tousled hair like he had been running his hands through it for hours, and the slight anxious shake of his hands as he grips the sword. If you were perhaps in a different situation you might have complimented his appearance, but not here and certainly not now with a strange man holding a blade to your neck. In an effort not to give the man any leverage he doesn’t already have, you stay silent. He does not take kindly to this and shifts the dagger so the point of the blade is now digging into your throat. 

“When I ask you a question, you will respond!” He shouts into your ear, disorienting you. It’s hard to remain focused on anything at this point, so many external stimuli are overwhelming your mind. The pain, the anxiety, it all scrambles your brain and renders you limp. The man doesn’t care though, and practically shakes you around trying to get an answer out of you. The motion makes you feel sick due to the searing pain radiating from your thigh increasing ten-fold. 

“Do not touch her,” Commodus growls, rage growing with every move the man makes. He has half a mind to just run at the man, but the blade held against you would surely be used to end your life if he did. And Commodus had no such intention of letting you die. His gaze turns to you for a split second, trying to take in your condition. The amount of blood soaking your dress and dripping down your body sends his heart into overdrive. He needed to take out the man quickly.

“You want to know who I am so badly? Take a closer look,” Commodus taunts, trying to get the man to focus on him. He needs to find a way to get closer, to take out the man before he hurts you further. All he wants is for you to be safe in his arms, but he has no idea on how to accomplish that as of yet. The man glares at his face, trying to place it. It’s not until his eyes move towards the crown of laurels laid upon Commodus’ head that he realizes the Emperor of Rome is standing before him, only protected by his own sword. The man grins at his recognition.

“This is perfect news! I don’t have to wait to kill you! I can just do it after I end your lover's life right in front of you!” Joy radiates off the man’s face. Clearly excited to have the Emperor, one of his listed targets, standing before him. It is possible that the supposed-killer is thinking that it will be an easy victory, but he does not know just how hard Commodus trains to be prepared for situations like these. Those training sessions honed his mind to be able to think quickly and effectively in dangerous situations, to formulate a plan as fast as possible. Commodus could lure the man away from you with a challenge, since the intruder seems to think that he would have no problem slaughtering him. And the man seems to be deranged enough to think he could win in a one-on-one against someone with a sword. Should be simple enough to trick him. Because if Commodus didn’t succeed, you would end up with a dagger thrust through your neck.

“If you think I will be so easy to kill, why not try to end me first? See if you could take on the great Emperor of Rome? After all, I have no guards protecting me,” Commodus mocks the man, trying to goad him into releasing you. The prospect of killing the Emperor and his lover in one night must have riled the man up. He shows no hesitation while agreeing to the plan with a vigorous nod of his head. Literally throwing you aside, to which you had yelled out in pain from, the man jumps up and starts to stalk Commodus in circles around him. Commodus outwardly has no reaction, face stoic. He did send a brief glance towards you to see if you were alright from the harsh throw though. Internally however, he was carefully working out a way to make this man pay for his transgressions against the both of you.

These thoughts did not stop him from being aware of his surroundings however, as  he could sense the man tried to lunge at him from behind. Commodus reacts swifty, side-stepping the dagger and thus stopping it from hitting its mark. The attacker shouted with glee at the notion of this being a true fight to the death, and recovered quickly. His blade tries to swipe at Commodus’ side, but he brings up his sword and knocks the dagger away from his form easily. The delicate dance of clashing blades continues for a bit, with neither party landing a direct hit on the other. With how spirited and often he trained, it is no wonder that Commodus can hold his own against someone like this without breaking a sweat or letting them land a hit. But the brief glimpse he got of you on the bed, bleeding out while he fought, stole his attention away long enough that the man was able to land a blow to his face.

Hand shooting up to hold his nose at the blossoming pain, blood started to drip down his face. He smeared it onto the back of his hand and across his face by trying to wipe it away. The hit had hurt to some degree, but the fact that the man had struck him hard enough in the face to cause him to bleed only fueled the need to end the silly dance between them. No longer did Commodus block and parry like he was taught, instead he struck fast and hard at the man. Trying to break his guard so he could strike at the pathetic excuse of a human. Being so much taller and stronger, and having a larger blade, he was able to break through easily. Knocking the dagger away from the man he pointed the tip of his blade straight at the man's heart. Wanting him to hurt like you were, Commodus bent down while still keeping the sword pointed at him, and picked up the dagger. It was balanced well, most likely by a master weaponsmith so it could be tracked, but it still had remnants of your blood on it. The mere sight of it still on the blade sent waves of fear and anxiety through him. He needed to make the man suffer.

“You will pay for harming the Empress and Emperor of Rome,” Commodus snarled as he stalked closer to him. No longer recognized as a threat in his mind, the man was reduced to a simple practice dummy. A tool to be used to release anger or frustration. And by the Gods was he going to release his anger upon the man.

“For your crimes against Rome, the Gods sentence you to die,” Commodus raises his head up, looking down his nose at the man. The Gods favored him always, for he was the Emperor. The link between the citizens of Rome and the Gods above, and his word is law. The man radiated pure fear now, for the act of betraying the Emperor and being condemned by the Gods certainly means he will suffer in the fields of punishment for eternity. But that is where he belongs. Commodus smirks at the man, the blood streaked across his face only adding to his intimidating aura. He stabs the dagger into the man’s shoulder, pulling it out rapidly. His cries fell on deaf ears, for there would be no mercy given to him after what he had done. Commodus then stabs it through the layers of the man’s clothing in an effort to bind him to the wall. Simply wanting to ensure that the man could not escape from his future punishment. Now he could focus solely on you.

 Eyes half-lidded and breathing rapidly, all you could think about was pain. You could briefly hear a voice shouting for guards, but you couldn’t place it in your state. Mind too focused on the pain to register really anything that was going on around you. Your eyes closed for what felt like a second, only to be wretched open by the feeling of warm hands on your body and tepid tears on your face. All you could see was Commodus above you, his own blood adorning his face around his nose and mouth. He was crying, eyes full of tears and pain and mumbling prayers to the Gods for you to be okay. Upon seeing your eyes open, he stopped his prayers and a watery smile appeared on his face.

“Gods above I thought I was too late,” He sobs, burying his face into your neck. The salty tears sting against the cut there, but it hardly registered to you at this point. Bringing your unsteady hand up to run through his hair, you tried to speak through the pain.

“Y-,” You start, throat aching at the action due to the amount of sobs and cries you had let out earlier, only to instantly be cut off by Commodus placing his lips on yours. His hands move up to hold your face, and softly caress your cheeks. Thumbs mindful of the cut located there. He tastes of salt and coppery blood. The kiss was full of emotions, ranging from sorrow and pain to love and genuine joy. The still wet blood on his face transfers to yours, marking you in a way that will never be forgotten. Not that this moment ever could be. He had saved you, putting himself in danger as he did so. He was willing to put his own life on the line to protect yours. His chapped lips move against yours, deepening the kiss. He was pouring himself into you, wanting you to understand something. Something you couldn’t name. Pulling away from each other, you could hear two guards run into your chambers. A grimace crosses your face as the pain inscribes itself into your brain again.

“Caesar! Are you hurt, my lord?” One of the guards asks, hand on the handle of his sword and glancing around for a threat. The other, having seen the man stuck to the wall, yanks the dagger out and forces the would-be assassin to kneel. The man groaned in pain due to the movement, but no one seemed to care. Commodus sighs, tears still falling down his face, and turns his head reluctantly. He didn’t want to remove his eyes from your form for even a second.

“I am fine. Take the assassin down to the cells. I will deal with him myself,” No one dares to mention the tears present on his face. The guard holding the man nods and all but drags him out of the room. His blood now smudged against the once pristine floor, and his groans echo off the walls. As the dragging and wailing sounds fade, the other guard steps closer to Commodus. 

“Should I fetch the healer my lord?” He asks, still standing tall and alert for someone who had to step over his comrades' bodies in the doorway. Commodus is tempted to yell at the man for the stupidly obvious question, but he holds back. Enough anger and blood has been spilt tonight. And he has no desire for anymore.

“Yes, and have someone come and clean up this mess…The fallen soldiers will be honored in a few days time,” He says, gazing back at you. The guard simply nods and turns to walk out, but before he could do so Commodus tells him one more thing over his shoulder.

“Have the guards outside my chambers doubled. Y/N will remain with me while she heals,” You can hear a faint noise of acknowledgement from the guard before he steps out of the room completely. A shaky sigh leaves Commodus as he rests his forehead against yours, fear slowly dissolving now that he is next to you. His arms move to snake around your torso, careful not to touch the carvings on your stomach. The blood stain from your stola was slowly being transferred to his white tunic from being pressed up against you, but he could not care. The blood staining your clothes, your skin, none of it mattered to him. Clothes could be washed or tossed away, skin could be scrubbed, nothing else mattered except you. He was content with just holding you close, feeling your form pressed against his. You tapped his head, a signal to get him to loosen his hold. He pulls back, just enough to see your full face. Your hands move to cup his cheeks, thumb just barely brushing against his cheekbone.

“You sav-” You can’t even get two words out before Commodus is kissing you again. His tears have since stopped flowing, but the salty remnants are still present in the kiss along with the coppery tang of blood. He is the one to break the kiss first, eyes shut and breaths coming out in short pants. He angles his head to kiss both of your palms before he opens his eyes again. The striking cerulean hue of his eyes could always bring you to your knees.

“I love you,” Commodus whispers, waiting for a rejection or hint of disinterest from you. But he receives no such thing. There is only love in your eyes, only love in your heart for him. And he will always have your heart.

“I love you too,” You manage to croak out, eyes slightly misty but cheeks red hot. Commodus smiles and kisses you softly again. He looks at you so fondly when he pulls back that you think your heart might melt. The sweet words and kisses between you two are halted by the healer arriving with a bag full of supplies. 

“Caesar, I will need room to work,” The healer politely says, hinting at Commodus to back away. Only partially following the advice given to him, he is still close enough to hold your hand while the healer gets to work. You sit on the edge of the bed, with the healer sitting between your legs on a chair. Commodus is beside you, watching over the process like a hawk.

“You are lucky, my lady. The wound on your leg has slowed its bleeding, and the cuts have stopped bleeding as well. I will need to stitch your thigh closed however, and apply some herbs before wrapping. It will be a painful process so I suggest holding onto something,” He says, before pulling out the necessary items to clean and close the wound. He is silent as he works, hands steady and careful. Commodus is gripping your hand more tightly than you grip his, as the pain of being stitched is nothing compared to the pain you felt when the dagger was being pulled out. The healer works fast, closing the wound in mere minutes after starting the process. The herbs he rubs onto the now closed wound sting for a brief moment, but then a cooling sensation overtakes the burning pain. 

“I am rubbing your wound with a pain reliever and a cleanser to ward off infections,” He explains, reaching for bandages to wrap around your leg. He wraps it tight enough to be secure, but not tight enough that it feels uncomfortable. Commodus places a chaste kiss to your hair while the healer ties, a reward almost for being so calm. Moving to the latin carved into your stomach, the healer sighs as he reads it.

“Nemini. Most likely trying to write nemini parco,” He says, rummaging around in his bag to find something. Commodus tilts his head at hearing the words, confusion plastered across his face. 

"What does that phrase mean, medicus?” Commodus asks, assuming that the healer knows what it means since it brought it up in the first place.

 “It means ‘I spare no one’, my lord. A fitting phrase for a killer seeking to end the life of The Emperor and Empress of Rome,” He explains, pausing when he found the correct item he was searching for. Taking it out, it appears to be some sort of jar of salve. He opens the jar, lifting the contents up to his nose and smelling. Sensing that he has the right one, he scoops out some of the salve and warms it up between his hands. Commodus just nods at his words, satisfied with the explanation he had given. You remain silent, still in shock that someone wanted to carve those words into your body.

“And please, do not refer to me as medicus. I’d prefer you’d use my given name, for it will make things easier for when I need to come back and redress your wounds,” He says, no ill intent hidden behind his tone and word choice. He goes to spread the now warm salve on the carvings on your stomach. The blood clotted and dried at this point, but the sting still remains. 

“Then what is your name?” You ask with a wince, finally able to gather the energy to speak up due to the herbs numbing some of the pain from your thigh.

“It is Atticus, my lady,” He replies, warming up more salve to spread upon your cheek and neck. His hands are gentle as he does so, wanting to not irritate the cuts further. You can feel the possessiveness radiating off Commodus as he does so. The grasp on your hand tightening and his body shifting closer to yours in an effort to claim you silently. He remains this way until Atticus finishes the last bandage.

“The wound on your thigh will unfortunately scar, and the one on your stomach has a chance to as well. The other two will not,” Atticus explains, packing away his various medical supplies. The news does not shock you, nor it does startle you. But it still causes an ache to form in your chest at the thought of being forever marked by that man. Commodus gently pulls you into his side, desperately wanting to show you some sort of affection but disliking the fact that Atticus was still here. 

“I will need to replace the bandages daily for a week or two, but then it should be fine to go without. She will require lots of rest, and minimal strain placement on her thigh, ” Atticus says, mostly to Commodus, before standing up to leave the room. You and Commodus both give him thanks for his quick and effective work, and rise from the bed. You can feel a tug on your stitches when you fully stand, but no pain due to the herbs taking full effect. When Atticus is fully out of sight, Commodus turns to you and quickly pulls you into his chest. The hug is almost suffocating, but it is welcomed after the night you two had been through. 

“You will stay with me in my chambers from now on. I will hear no excuses or refusal,” He whispers, hand moving up to thread itself into your hair and bring you closer. Gentle kisses are placed along your neck and up to your lips. Yet another sweet kiss is placed upon them, but it’s done so quickly it’s gone before you could respond. Releasing you from his hold, Commodus places one arm around your upper back and another just above your knees. He swiftly picks you up bridal style, a small yelp leaving you in the process. His sight is set upon your face once more, cerulean eyes boring into yours. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said ‘I love you’,” He comments with a slight frown, deep rooted insecurities rearing their ugly heads at the worst moment possible. You give him a gentle smile, nothing but happiness and love shining through it. 

“I wasn’t either,” You reassure, arms winding their way behind his neck. Commodus gives you a small smile, insecurities being pruned back at your words. But they will regrow, as they always do. At least you will be there, cutting them down.

i apologize for nothing. but this is not the end of the series! far from it in fact! i still have so much i wanna do with these two. plus the wedding hasn't happened yet.... lots to do.

thank you for reading all these chapters ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

tag list: @capitanostella , @five-miles-over

[riveroftales]

haiii! i love your genya work!! i was wondering if i could ask for a genya tending to you when your sick? 🍪🍪🍪

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Genya soaked the cloth under cold water, squeezing the liquid out before neatly folding it into a rectangle and placing it on your forehead.

“That’s cold..” you murmured, not having enough energy to flinch away.

“Of course it is. You’ve got an insanely high fever.” He sighed, gently pressing the cloth down. “Maybe you should start listening more often.”

An annoyed pout formed on your lips as you looked away.

“The water really wasn’t that cold..”

“Cold or not, it was infested with germs.” Genya leaned in a teasing manner as he gave you a quick peck on your cheek, which was enough to make you pull away.

“You also trying to get sick?”

A small laugh came out of Genya before he kissed your cheek again.

“Can’t show my poor darling some love?”

“That’s not what I-”

Genya cut you off with another laugh as he sat back up to soak the cloth again in the water.

“How about this?” He smiled softly. “You get as much rest as possible and make a full recovery soon. You can pay me back that way for not listening.”

Despite the playful sass in his last sentence, that was a deal you could live with.

“Deal.”

Your back was pressed against his chest while you were snuggled in a fluffy blanket. In front of you was a pile of flowers Genya had plucked earlier and he was showing you how to make a flower crown.

“We’re going to want to bring the stem up from the back, gently fold it to the left, and add another flower.. we just have to repeat all this.” He smiled softly. “And when you’re done… just secure the ends and.. voila.”

He placed the crown on your head.

“I’ve now got the perfect person in my arms.”

“You saying I wasn’t perfect before?”

“That is so not what I meant.” Genya gently poked your side, earning a small laugh from you.

“Hey!”

“Don’t twist my words!”

He continued to land playful and gentle pokes all over your torso, eventually making you fall on your back as your body hit the soft futon underneath you.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I give up! I surrender!” You try to push him away with hour cheeks dusted pink from the blood rush.

Fortunately, Genya smiles and lets you off with mercy. One of his arms is placed over your head as he leans in, supporting himself over your figure and the other gently cups your face.

“I love you.”

A smile forms on your lips.

“I love you too.”

He leans in for a kiss, until you cover your mouth with your hand.

“Hey, hey. I’m still sick, remember?” You playfully push him away a little.

“God dammit.” Genya chuckles. “What about your cheek?”

“I’ve already had enough.”

“Forehead?”

“You might burn your lips from the temperature.”

“Neck?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Well then where the hell can I kiss you?”

“No where until I’m all perfectly fine~”

“Fuck…” he laughed, laying down next to you on his back.

Despite his insistence, he knew you meant well so he stopped asking a couple minutes later. His hand held yours as you two silently laid next to each other, and he knew he wouldn’t want his life any other way.

[fallingformatt]

FIRST GLANCE M.S. PT. 2

Matt x fem!reader

summary: as you’re trying to get your mind off of Matt you bump into someone, who could it be?

warnings: smutttt!!!!! unprotected sex, overstimulation, praising.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: the first part is available here

at first I didn’t know where to start on this one, but bro I’m actually in love with this second part.

I also made my account pretty and made a masterlist with all of my works it’s available here

feel free to leave requests on what I should write next or what you would like to read in general ;) or just yap w me

this post is not proofread

➽───────────────❥

"You taste so sweet, I could eat you out all night."

"Shit, you feel so good around my cock baby."

"You're such a good girl for me, fuck."

It has been 3 days since I bumped into him, and every night as I was trying to fall asleep, vivid flashbacks were running through my head, subconsciously making my hand slide down my panties, pleasuring myself, desperately trying to catch the pleasure from that night but with no success.

I was going insane. Recalling that night I was tipsy and I don't quite remember his name, I think it was Matt, but I do remember everything else. His eyes, his fluffy hair, his moans and his dick. His cold rings on my skin, his grip on my thighs, the cold counter against my ripped tights as he was eating me out, overstimulating me.

I groan as I turn around in my bed laying down on my stomach, pulling my pillow under my head as I grab it with both of my hands and let out a scream of frustration, still thinking about that night, and then it hit me, 'his number. He gave me his number before I left, and I wrote it down somewhere' I think to myself, my eyes shoot open as I reach for my phone sitting up in my bed, and unlocking it. I start scrolling through my phone frantically.

"Think, think, think, think, come on, where did you write it down," I say out loud to myself trying to find his number.

I continue scrolling through my phone, it now has been 30 minutes, no luck. I groan as I throw my phone off my bed.

'Maybe it was meant to be just one time.' I think to myself, trying to console myself. I lay down, now laying on my back, staring at the ceiling. 'This can't be true, there is no way this was meant to be one and done, I refuse to believe that.' I think to myself

"I need to get my mind off of him," I say out loud and slide out of my bed similarly to as a snake would. Now laying on my fuzzy rug next to my bed I grab my phone I previously threw and unlock it searching for my best friend's number. I start calling.

"Hey let's do something, I need to get my mind off of some things," I say hopeful that she has something already planned.

"Yeah I'm down, what do you want to do?" She answers and my face grows a small frown.

"I don't know, to be honest, I was hoping you would have already something planned," I say truthfully.

"Well it's your lucky day, I do have something planned, I just wanted to know what mood you're in, let's meet at my place in like 2ish hours" my friend answers.

"Oh my god ur the best, I love you," I say and end the call.

My mood is already getting better. I get up from the floor and walk to my vanity excitedly. I sit down and put in rollers in my hair before starting on my makeup.

Once I finished my makeup I got up from the chair and walked to my closet. I swung open the closet door and started searching for something to wear. I don't know what to wear, and I don't know what occasion to dress for since I forgot to ask my friend where we're going or what are we doing.

I pulled out a dark red, leather miniskirt and put it on, I paired it with a black, skin-tight short-sleeve top, that had a huge cutout in the back, and put on black kitten heels that matched the vibe of the outfit perfectly. I walked to the mirror to see if I liked the outfit.

I went back to my vanity and took out the rollers in my hair, I put in some gold jewelry and was ready to head out.

Before leaving my apartment I check the time and it reads 3:26 PM, I text my best friend that I'm heading out and walk out of the door, I get in my car and drive to her place.

"I'm here," I say loudly as I walk into her apartment, I put down my purse on the couch and head to her room, I open the door and see her doing her makeup. "Heyy girl," I walk over to her, and hug her, greeting her. I sit down on her bed and watch her get ready as we chitchat.

"Like ever since that night, I literally can't stop thinking about him," I say looking at her. She turns to look at me removing the lip liner from her lips. "This sounds bad, I know what we need," she says. I tilt my head in confusion, waiting for her to finish her thought. "There's our favorite wine in the fridge," she signals to the kitchen with her head before she turns back to finish her lips.

I head over to the kitchen, open the fridge, and take out the wine, I get two wine glasses and walk back to her room. I set the glasses down on her table before opening the bottle of wine and pouring some for the both of us.

"Oh my god ur finally ready," I say as I get up from the bed. While she was getting ready we finished the bottle of wine. "You look great," I say and she blows me a kiss as a thank you.

"Where are we going?" I ask raising an eyebrow. "Well I thought we could head out to a bar, then see where the night takes us," she says. "What bar did you have in mind?" I ask. "Well the one we went to recently, the one with the cute bow mirror," she answers me and my smile drops. "Girl, I'm trying to forget about him, not retrace my steps," I say as I cross my arms. "Well it's not the only bar, we can go to a different one, or we can go to a party one of my friends is throwing," she offers.

We get out of the apartment and get an uber to drive to the party. When we pulled up to the beach house it was still light outside, the loud music and people were buzzing all over the place. We get out of the car and head to the front door which is left open as people are constantly walking in and out.

We head in and there are a lot of people here, some are dancing, some drinking their drinks and talking, and there are even people swimming in the pool in the backyard. The view of the beach is beautiful, "Do you want anything to drink?" I ask my friend. "Yeah, I spy with my little eye a red wine bottle that just screams 'drink me, drink me', " she says making me laugh.

I go to the kitchen where all of the alcohol is, I pour the wine into some cups for me and my friend, I take both of the cups in my hand and turn around to walk back to the living room where my friend is, but before I get the chance to start walking I smash into someone, wine spilling everywhere. "I am so sorry," I say as I immediately bend down to pick up the cups without looking at who I smashed into, embarrassed that I have caused a mess in the house of a person I don't even know.

I feel a thumb press against my chin and another finger below it as someone pushes my chin up so I would be looking up. When my eyes travel up my stare widens as I see who it is. I stand up putting the spilled cups on the kitchen counter without looking, "I am so sorry Matt," I say as I'm once again looking at the fluffy haired guy. I already feel myself getting wet.

"You're so clumsy," he says as he looks down, making me also look, his white shirt is now covered in dark red liquid. I grab some paper towels and start rubbing his shirt frantically. "I didn't mean that to happen," I say focused on the stain. He grabs my wrists to stop me. "It's okay, besides you're not gonna get that out with just some paper towels," he says trying to calm me down.

"Let's go to the bathroom, and run it under some water," I offer, he nods in agreement. I take his hand as I lead the way to the bathroom. This house is huge and I can't seem to find the bathroom anywhere, I hear Matt laughing from behind as I open every door, hoping that it's the bathroom. "Stop laughing at me, I don't know where shit is, I don't live here and I've never been here before," I say, anger and frustration can be heard in my tone. "You're hot when ur angry," Matt says, taking the lead as we head to the bathroom.

"Did you know where it is all this time?" I ask entering the bathroom. He nods his head, "my friend is throwing a party here, it's his house," he says also walking in and closing the door behind him. "What ar-" Before Matt gets to finish his question I smash my lips onto his, my hands immediately traveling to his fluffy hair. He grabs my ass, his one hand traveling to the back of my upper thigh signaling me to jump and I do just that. "It's cold," I say and Matt looks at me completely confused. I look down at his shirt which is drenched in wine. He also looks down and chuckles a bit.

Matt sits me down on the counter of the sink. Flashbacks immediately run through my head, "It doesn't matter, I need you," I say as I pull him closer to me pushing my lips onto his once again, he picks me up and presses me against the bathroom door not breaking the kiss. He breaks the kiss, letting go of my ass and letting me down. I look at him confused. "Not here," he says before he opens the door pulling me out of the bathroom by my hand.

We walk through the living room passing the crowd that's dancing, my eyes lock with my best friend and a huge smile creeps up on my face as I point to Matt with my head waving at my friend. Matt's leading us to the second story of the house, his steps are fast, as we walk up, the music gets quieter, and he opens the door to what I'm guessing is a guest bedroom.

He pulls me into the room, closing the door before pushing me against it, his lips traveling to mine. As the kiss deepens I can feel Matt smirk, my hands travel down to his crotch, and I move my hand up and down, massaging his cock through the jeans, and he lets out a moan.

"C'mon baby," Matt says as his hand moves to mine. I remove my hand from his crotch and unbutton his jeans, his lips meet mine again, his hand traveling to the nape of my head. I slowly walk towards the bed, guiding Matt with me, not breaking the kiss.

I break the kiss pulling and tugging Matt's stained shirt, signaling him to take it off. He pulls it off over his head, and I wrap my fingers around the hem of my shirt pulling it over my head. I watch his face as his eyes move to my boobs. I unbuckle my leather skirt, pulling it down along with my panties.

I give Matt a slight push, he sits down on the bed behind him and I get on top of him. I press my lips on his neck leaving sweet, wet kisses on his neck, sucking on it leaving a mark. I feel his hips buck up yarning for me, I start grinding my hips against his clothed dick and he lets out a moan. I push my lips on him as I feel his hands travel to the waistband of his boxers and jeans, I pick up my ass so he can push them down.

I feel his hard cock brush against my pussy before I grab it and guide it, aligning with my entrance. I slide down on it letting out a loud moan as I throw back my head. "You feel so good on my cock princess," Matt moans out. His lips leave a trail from my neck to my breasts as I bounce on his cock. "Oh my god Matt," I moan out.

His mouth wraps around my nipple, sucking on it as his hand rests on my ass, he gives it a slap before sliding up my waist, and my back and stopping at my other boob massaging it.

I fasten my speed as I feel the climax coming, I let out a loud moan, "I'm close Matt," I moan out, he wraps his hands around my back and turns me around, laying me in the bed, he's now on top of me, he starts pounding into me as he rests his elbow next to my head, his lips attacking my neck leaving dark marks on my skin.

My hand travels to his hair, my fingers playing around his fluffy hair, "don't stop Matt, ple-" I moan out and he starts thrusting deeper and faster, his hand travels down my thigh sliding it up and down before he guides it to wrap around his waist. I let out a moan as I felt the knot in my stomach about to burst. "I'm cumming," I scream out as I feel my walls tighten around his cock, my back arching.

He continues planting deep and fast thrusts, my back still arched, my legs lightly starting to shake around his waist. "Matt," I cry out. "Shhh baby, not yet, I know you missed this," he says his voice deep, he buries his head in the nape of my neck, fastening his speed, my hands traveling to his back, my fingernails digging into his skin, I hear him hiss through his moans as I leave marks on his back.

He picks up his head, "your pussy feels so good around me," he moans out. "Look at me," he says, his voice filled with lust as he starts to move even faster making my head roll back as the pleasure takes over my body and I feel a knot forming in my stomach once again.

"Look at me," his voice is demanding and strong, his hand wraps around my jaw pulling it down, making me look at him, his eyes are dark. "Did you miss my cock?" He asks keeping his thrusts strong and fast. I nod my head. "Words baby, I need words," he growls. "Fuck yes, yes Matt I missed your cock so bad," I blur out "Good girl," Matt says pushing his thumb against my lips. I part them open sucking on it.

My hands reach for the sheets as I grasp them in between my fingers. "I bet you rubbed your clit thinking of me," he says with a smirk on his face, my eyes widen as I let out a moan, "that's right baby, you missed me," Matt says as he pulls his thumb out of my mouth, his thumb travels to my clit as he starts rubbing circles on it. I throw my head back as I let out a moan, "I'm close, don't stop," I let him know.

He buries his head in the nape of my neck once again, pushing in me, "fuck you feel so good princess," he moans against my skin pushing me over the edge. "I- I-," I can't seem to finish my sentence as I feel my climax taking over me once again. I ride out my high as I feel him twitching inside of me, "fuck," he breathes out before planting his seed into me, his teeth coming in contact with my skin in order to not let out a moan.

He lays next to me, pulling me next to him, I lay my head on his chest and I look up, "we managed to bump into each other 3 times," I say and feel his fingers brushing through my hair. "I guess it's settled then," he says, his breathing still uneven, "we're a thing, so we don't have to bump into each other again," he lets out a chuckle looking outside the window, his hand traveling down to my ass, "wanna go to the beach?" He asks and a smile creeps on his lips. I nod my head and push my lips onto his, kissing him.

[sams-art-domain]

Why not me?

Ivan/till

No alien AU

Inspired by this artwork by @carlozw

Chapter 1 of 2, 4007 words, 99.99% angst,

Till is more emotionally mature than I meant to make him so he’s a little sillier.

Tw - general TW of death and all that entails

hehehe Please reblog if you enjoy! :3

ff under the cut.

It’s summarized pretty well by the first few sentences.

A weight on his shoulder, a squeeze around him. Maybe even an all too familiar head pat. Till knew what was going on,

 Ivan couldn’t even leave him alone through the afterlife.  He was sure of it. 

That freak had somehow found a way to bother Till, even though he was dead. And it was starting to get hard to bare, 

Till sat in a criss-cross position, drawing. Not really paying attention to what, it had been about a week since Ivan died, and his fucked up producers was going to make Till show face on stage in a few hours. Just saying a few things about the… stunt Ivan pulled, and he did not want to do that. 

Till’s face reddened at the idea of it. He couldn’t believe that selfish- annoying- Idi- 

Till jumped out of his train of thought- A strong hand patted his head, he could feel it but it wasn’t there. 

“Fuckin- Ivan-“ Till swatted his hands above his head. Even though he was alone in his bedroom, he felt stupid and if anyone else saw him, they’d probably call him crazy. 

Till stared at his paper, he had drawn the stage. Where Ivan was shot. By some insane fucked fan. Of his. His fan. It wasn’t Ivan’s fault that Till was a worse singer. If Till sang better that fan wouldn’t have flipped out and shot Ivan. If Till had moved faster then he might’ve been the dead one. Not Ivan. 

Till stood up. Suddenly very- something he didn’t know what he felt but he was pissed about it anyway, 

“God fuck this-“ He went to go punch a wall. Even though this was an apartment rented by his producers, they would have to pay for the damage. 

He hit something that’s definitely not a wall. 

“Fucking- IVAN-“ He hit him again. And again, and again, and for once in his 17 years of living he would have done anything to have been able to see Ivan’s face. Probably smiling like the weird ass freak he was. 

He slumped against the wall? Ivan? He actually didn’t care. He was tired. Really fucking tired of having to feel like this. His face scrunched up in that empty angry way. When you want to scream with frustration but there's no air in your lungs to scream with. Till stared at the floor of his stupidly fancy building.

Ivan’s fucking dead and Till just gets to move on? He gets to go show face today and make thousands of dollars while Ivan just sleeps in his coffin. It’s not fair. Till should be in the ground right now. Not Ivan. 

Till leaned more of his weight on to the wall(ivan). He exhaled in less of a sigh and more of a last-breath kinda way. He felt dizzy. Exhaustion taking hold in his bones. Like he had never not been tired. “Why not me?” He asked under his breath. Knowing no one would hear it. 

He fell asleep standing there. 

He woke up an hour or so later. Lying in his bed, his heated blanket on the highest setting and wrapped around him. He curled in on himself. Not really remembering how he got to his bed but he didn’t really care. He checked the time. 

1:45ish. He has to get up, like. Now if he wants to make it to the stage in time. “Fuck this…” Till Weakly hit his head on his pillow a few times. He didn’t want to get up. 

Something tugged at his arm. Tug. tug. Till looked at his arm, above the blanket. Something definitely was tugging his arm. 

“Ivan-” Till knew he sounded insane. It was kinda stupid, really. But what else would it be? He wasn’t exactly close with any other dead person. 

“Augh-” Till grunted as one swift, strong tug had him upright in a sitting position. Tills head spun from the sudden change. He felt weak. And tired. Really, really tired. But of course, the producers wouldn’t care that he was being haunted or that he was grieving or that he was tired. They’d threaten him. Or his mom. Tell him that her wellbeing rests on his shoulders. And he knows it does, They wouldn't be able to afford her treatment otherwise. It sucks but that's how it is. And Till loves his mom. He isn’t a quitter. 

Till stood up, and as he did, he felt Ivans hand pat his shoulder. Which was oddly tame and almost comforting. He sighed, and then got dressed in the outfit his producers instructed him to. All black, the shirt having a wide neck that was slightly off of the shoulder. The same outfit he wore in round six. The same outfit Till wore when Ivan died. Sick fucks. Didn’t give a crap about him. 

Whatever. Not like he had a choice. 

Till went to the bathroom, did his own routine rather swiftly. Covered his eyebags with concealer.then swiped eyeliner on his eyelid. Per request of the producers, he put on some subtle black eyeshadow. Till looked in the mirror. HIs brain still felt asleep. Fuzzy. Sedated almost. He just looked at himself. Thin. Thinner than usual? Tired. More exhausted than usual? He looked kinda dead. Ironic all things considered. Till felt like crying. His nose burned like he was about to. But he couldn’t cry. He just put on makeup.. 

He was hugged from behind. It was horrifically comforting. If this was all in his head he was gonna need to have some serious medication to fix it. It felt so real and as much as Till wanted to believe it was real there was always that doubt. ‘You’re crazy. Insane.’ Till didn’t really know how to feel. Never did anymore.

 He wanted to quit this stupid idol job and do something with his stupid life. But he loved singing. 

He wanted to cry but also didn't want to wallow in his own self pity. 

He wanted to see Ivan’s stupid face but also wanted to forget him more than anything.

His life was just stupid contradictions and ultimatums. Hell- his own birth was due to a failed abortion. His mother wanted to get rid of him but couldn’t. 

Till slammed his fists down on the bathroom sink counter. 

Ivan pulled him away from the sink. Holding his hands, still behind him. Till squeezed his eyes shut. Willing the tears to go away. He went to check the time. Ivan held his hand still. Sometimes Till wasn’t even sure this was Ivan. He thought Ivans soul? Spirit? Whatever. Would have been troublesome. And chaotic. Not cuddly and touchy-feely.

 Maybe this is what Ivan had wanted. To be near to TIll. To be able to hug and hold TIll. Maybe it would’ve been easier if Till had let him. Why’d Till even push Ivan awa-

Till's phone rang. He scrambled to pick up his phone. Ivan let go of him. Tills phone read “evil assholes” The producers. “Fuck my life I guess.” 

Till answered. 

“WE NEED YOU HERE IN 5 MINUTES. NOW. THE TAXI IS ON THE WAY. BE READY, IF YOU’RE LATE YOU BETTER CATCH A TAXI TO THE HOSPITAL BECAUSE THE BILLS ARE GONNA GET REAL HARD TO PAY REAL FAST.” The producer on the other end practically screamed through the phone. Good thing Till hadn’t cried. He wouldn't of had time to redo his makeup. 

“Yes. Sir.” Till spoke through his teeth. Enraged he was being held by a leash like a dog. He wanted to punch that fucker in his jaw for threatening him like this. Till hung up aggressively. A silent fuck you to the producer. 

Till walked out of the bathroom. Seething. So fucking angry. Too. Fucking. Angry. Till could feel his breath hitch like he was gonna scream. But couldn’t because this was an apartment with thin walls. Didn’t want any of the stupid rich ass CEO’s next door to flip out. Instead, Till sat on the cough to get his shoes on. Slamming his fists down on his knees hard enough to bruise before slipping his shoes on.

Till, now with his shoes on, had a moment. Briefly mind you. But a moment. To be really. REALLY. Fucking angry. Nothing even mattered to Till right now he just wanted to hurt and hurt and hurt. Whether it be him or someone else didn’t actually occur to him. Till gripped his own shoulders like a crazy person. Furious he had to live like this. Why’d his mother get sick? What did he ever do to deserve such fucked up shit to happen?  

“Fuck. THis-” Till hit his own head with the ball of his hand. He didn't even know what to do with himself. He just wanted to hurt something. He stood up. Practically shaking with anger. He couldn't even remember why he was angry. Hardly. He should be used to being held by a string like this, it had happened since his late middle childhood. When his mom got sick ad his life was turned upside down and the fucked organization that ran this show found him and abused him until he was so completely dependant on them he couldnt escape. Honestly? “Why am I even surprised!? THEY NEVER EVEN FUCKING HELPED!!!” Till was trying to stop from yelling but he had let that one slip. He trembled with anger and he couldn’t put it anywhere. His hands balled into fists seemingly on their own. He turned towards a wall and began punching. Harder. Harder. Harder. His hands hurt bad. His hands were scraped now. He kept hitting the wall and then-

“Till- you have a ride prepared. It is here now.” A higher pitched voice called through the door. Snapped Till out of his rage. 

Till looked at the door and then his hands. Shaking like he was in a snowstorm. His left, index knuckle bloodied. He didn't have time to care. It would just make the producers look bad. Till didn't mind that at all. He exhaled. And turned to the door. Putting on a straight face. Trying to hide any evidence of his breakdown from before. He could only imagine he looked horrible. He hadn't eaten in 2 days. Hadnt slept well since Ivan died. He hadn't even hardly gotten out of bed since Ivan died. Only getting up this morning because he had to.

Till ran his hand down his face, then opened the door. 

Till had made lots of mistakes in his life, but walking out that door? Probably the worst. He was bombarded with paparazzi, 3 professional grade cameras. Tons of other people with their phones out. How do they always find where he lives? What the fuck. 

“Till, I'm so sorry they just followed me and then I couldn't get them to leave-” The girl apologized, but Till just nodded. Deciding he was gonna mentally tap-out right about now. Already overwhelmed as people yelled questions at him(that he of course, ignored.) 

They practically crawled through the crowd and to the taxi as he got in, it finally being a bit quieter. 

“I’m so sorry- I didn't know if i should call security or not, I hadn’t meant for it to get this out of hand.” The woman looked like she was going to cry, and Till knew it wasn’t her fault. 

“Next time just call security, they’re here for a reason. It’s not your fault they don’t know how to act.” Till looked out the window.  But then decided to just rest his head on the front passenger seat. Already far too tired to be doing this. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, he went to look and woe-and-behold, no one. Well, not technically no one. Ivan. The woman driving had shivered, under her breath, saying something about how cold it was in the car. Promptly turning up the heat in the car, despite it being 80 degrees. 

Ivan hadn’t felt cold to Till. He had always seemed somewhat cold when he was alive, but he was always warm to Till. Something of comfort even. Till always felt far from Ivan when he was alive. Though now Ivan felt so close to Till it was suffocating. 

Kind of like the night after it was made public that Mizi was kidnapped, almost a year ago. Ivan had visited Till. He had felt so weirdly there. And close. He was so real then even though usually Ivan had felt fake and far away. He had even asked before hugging Till. Who at the time was so distraught and scared that he had let Ivan hug him. It would have been normal for any other person, but the softness and vulnerability was so new and different. It was really nice. Which is something Till didn’t know he could have with Ivan. Till thought about that night often. He had sat on the couch with Ivan and he wrapped his arm around Tills shoulder. They hadn’t said much that night. Just hello, goodbye, and Ivan had asked- “Can I hold you?” That was really it. Ivan had hugged and cuddled Till while he cried. But since then they hadn’t said much. And then Ivan was shot. And died. And Till could officially say that this was the worst year of his life. The only thing that could make it worse was his mom dy- 

Don’t jinx it. Do not finish that fucking sentence. 

Till had started to think he was the one hurting the people he loved. The day before till was going to confess to Mizi she was kidnapped and had not been heard from since. The day that he had started to really think about Ivan as more than just an annoying guy he’d known for years he died. He died. 

The car stopped. Great. He was at the place he thought of as hell on earth. It was so fucking hot in the car yet the woman driving still had the heat on. 

He sat in the car. Wishing a crazed fan would shoot him next. But he wasn’t shot, so he opened the door. 

Y’know how earlier he thought he had made the worst mistake of his life? Well this was a worse one. 

People, people, people people- Till had decided then he HATED people. There were hundreds. Some with microphones and news reporters. Some were just phones. Some polaroids. He hated being watched like this, fuck his stupid life.  

A man holding a large camera asked him a question, loud enough that he could actually hear outside of the loud ambience of a crowd this huge. “Had you been dating Ivan before he was shot?” 

Why? The. Fuck. was the first question he was asked. Not. ‘Are you okay, how have you been? Why are you back so early?’ 

No. It had to be about that stupid thing- Ivan- Fucking hell Ivan why did you have to kiss me- and then die?! 

Till thought he might’ve punched the guy. Then he felt a strong hand grab his. Ivan. It made Till tired. Sad. Less angry. So he did what he did best and ignored the question. Just wanting to get backstage and away from these people. 

And he did just that. 

Once backstage, Ivan had let go of his hand. And Till felt an emptiness. Ivans soul was very… comforting? Safe? Whatever. 

Till didn’t get to feel safe here. 

As he walked through the entrance to the room directly leading to the stage, several makeup artists rushed him to a seat and began working. Obviously, they had to make him as emo as possible. Heavy eyeliner, using contour to make him look more tired than he was. Trying their best to really make him look like he was mourning- but in an aesthetic way not “I’ve barely eaten or slept in days because I’m, so horrifically distraught and empty and of course the soul of my dead person is haunting me why wouldn't he?” kinda way. 

Once they had finished, The producer. Anakt. Came up to him. Great. 

“WE NEEDED YOU HEAR 10 MINUTES AGO!!!! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN???” 

Till looked up at him, a sickening amount of rage washed over him. He stayed silent though. 

“UGh- fuck this. Just go out there, say some kind of basic-ass eulogy, confirm you are NOT. gay or queer supporting at all, tell them that round 7 is in two months and then get off the stage. I’ll be deducting 10% of your paycheck for your tardiness. Don’t let it happen again.” Anakt walked away. Leaving a Till trembling with rage and fear.

He stood up, and made face. 

On this stage alone is a privilege. Usually only given to the winners of Alien Stage. But of course, Till is standing here because he wasn’t shot. 

He walked up to the microphone. Sick with so many emotions. Resisting the urge to cry. And he didn’t know what to say. The crowd went silent. 

Till figured if this was gonna be about Ivan, this was gonna be honest. Something he never was with Ivan. 

“Hello everyone. I-” Till gulped. his throat already dry. “I’m here to talk about the events that happened 6 days ago on this stage. The day that Ivan-” He paused, debating his words. “The day that Ivan was murdered. Shot 3 times through his back.” Till swallowed tears. 

He looked at the crowd, the one that was usually cheering. But now dead silent. 

He felt a strong hug. Arms wrapped around him. He decided to keep going. 

:”I’ll miss him. A lot. And I don't think my life will ever be the same again.” Arms squeezed tight. Till let it happen. 

“I think I deserved to have died on that day. Taken Ivans place.” Despite being a celebrity, Till wasn't good at words and struggled on what to say next. Ivan rested his head on Tills. It felt like it was just him and Ivan. Words came easier. 

“But I didn't. So it's up to me to keep living now. I’m sorry that this is how things ended up.” Till sighed. 

Ivan pressed his forehead to Tills. And Till leaned into it. He probably looked a little weird, but who cared. 

“If I could say something to him today I’d say this: 

Ivan, you have been the person I've been closest to for almost 10 years. You have made me happy and mad and sad and made me feel just as much as I didn't know I  could. But despite that you’ve always been fabricated. Hidden. Far away. Yet I could always feel your warmth. LIke the sun, so far away yet warm all the same. 

Maybe under different circumstances we’re normal kids. Not forced to fame. Not used liked dolls. Maybe we bicker and fight but we never have to worry about faking it for PR. Maybe you’re genuine and real and we’re close and we hang out after school and play video games. 

That’s truly impossible now. And I think- I think I hate the man that shot you. Which is hard for me to say because I don't want to hate anyone. But I do. I know I do. And I think there was a time in my life where I hated you. For always being so clingy yet distant. For always being so blunt but hidden. It pissed me off. 

But now I don't think there's anything in the world that would make me hate you. Nothing at all. The only reason I hated you is because no matter how much I tried I couldn't understand you. You were so fixated on me. But was never honest. Never real.  Never close- I’m just going in circles now. But anyway. I didn’t understand you, and I still don't, and I don't think I ever will understand you. And I guess I'm stuck with that now because you’re gone. Sometimes I think you’re not really gone. Sometimes it feels like you’re right there. That I could reach out and feel your stupid hand. Or that if I could just squint a little harder I could see your stupid smile. But I guess you are really gone. I’ll never know you. And that's my biggest regret. I think. 

Since you’ve died I've barely slept, eaten, or got out of bed. Since you’ve died every morning when I check my phone, I feel something in me die when there's no good morning. Every night, I feel like my whole routine is thrown off because I don't get a good night's text. I don’t think I've had any real conversation with someone since you’ve died. The fucked up part of someone dying is that they’re existence doesn’t end. They still exist, just not with you. They’re still alive in an unfulfilled routine, a memory, a dream, a feeling. The hurt. And it's the worst. Like how when you empty a cup of water, you’ll get thirsty again but the cup is empty, and eventually you die of dehydration. And there's nothing I can do to fix it.”

Till couldn’t stop from letting a few tears slip. Ivan squeezed him, holding him like he was trying to protect him from himself. Till swallowed and kept going. He knew his producers were much more than furious at this point. Figured he could keep going. 

“I said that I wish I had died that day, not you. And that's true. Ever since you died all I have been able to think of is ‘why not me?’ ‘Why wasn't I shot?’ And I still wish I was dead right now instead of you. Though I don't think I would've wanted you to suffer like I am right now. The last thing I would have wanted was for you to be forced on stage to excuse your death while you’re still grieving. So there's gotta be a reason I didn't die. I don't know what it is. But I know that there has to be one. Right as you died. Hands around my throat, you smiled. You smiled like this was the best day of your life, and maybe it was. Maybe you were surprised, but happy with your death. Maybe you wanted it. You always were selfish. Always just doing whatever you wanted- or maybe you didn't want it? But you had accepted it anyway. I don't know. I could ask questions like these all day. It doesn’t matter.”

Ivan was holding till so gently. With so much caution and love- and Till was crying. Fat, hot tears rolling down his face as he tried to only look at his feet. 

“I don't know what was hoped to be accomplished with this. But I did it. So, before I go, I want to confirm two things.” 

This might be the true, real, most horrific mistake of his life. But Till seemed to have been making lots of those lately. So he figured, Why not one more. From this, he realized something. From Ivan dying and this speech, he had made one of the scariest and most upsetting realizations of his life. And now he was gonna tell the world. He tried to hide his slowing tears as fast as possible.

“Ivan loved me, that's why he kissed me that day.” The crowd seemed to perk up at that, lots of whispers, and Till figured that he might as well make his worst mistake, ever. 

Ivan let go of the hug, him not even expecting this.

Till decided to just say it, get it over with and walk off the stage. “And I love him. Which is why I let him.” Till remembered that at the time, he had tried to push Ivan away, so he added. “Sorta.”

“That is my eulogy for Ivan. Round 7 in two months.” Till walked to backstage, and the crowd fucking erupted with cheers and claps and screams. 

Ivan held his hand the whole time.

also yes of course the title is a mitski reference what do you take me for? A good author?

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Hello hope ur having an amazing day/afternoon/night

So for the "if you weren't alone" how about the Hunting dogs with a GN reader? Take your time and make sure to take care of yourself

If you were not alone

Part III

Characters: Self-Aware! Hunting Dogs

Reader: Adult! GN! Reader

Warning: English is my second language

_______

🐕‍🦺You were tried. Today, you and Hunting Dogs were having one of your traditional camping trips. Thanks to Teruko's and Fukuchi's training, you have become tougher. Still, you were tried and were thankful, when you finally set up a camp.

After dinner, you go to your tents and fall asleep

You were the last one to woke up. A familiar redhead looked inside the tent. Tachihara looked worried.

"[Y/N], you are awake, good... Listen... My dear Hyacinth... You probably should take a look at that..."

You climbed out of the tent and looked around. Your gaze immediately stopped on the familiar Statue of the Seven, standing on an island in the middle of the lake.

You were in Starfell Valley, on a Cider Lake shore.

The rest of the Hunting Dogs were not only up, but already were in their uniforms. A fire was burning and aromas of porridge and tea were coming from a pot and kettle, that were put above the fire.

"[Y/N], does this place look familiar to you?" Teruko passed a bowl with porridge and a cup full of hot tea to you.

You braced yourself. Explanation will take time.

🐕‍🦺 You tried your best to answer questions about Teyvat. About nations and elements. You answered questions about the game. That nothing strange was happening in your game. No insane luck, no new voice lines, no new menus, no new characters (that weren't announced), no reaction to you talking or petting the screen, no strange emails, no gifts. Genshin Impact looked like absolutely normal game.

After the breakfast was done, Hunting Dogs got the most basic information about Teyvat and were as confused as you were about Teyvat being real.

But you can't get answers just staying in one place. After you collect your belongings (with tent, sleeping bags), Hunting Dogs and you start walking. To Mondstadt.

Just to make sure, that you stayed safe, Fukuchi asked you to walk in the middle of the group, while he was walking before you, Tachihara and Teruko were walking on the sides and Jouno and Tetchou were walking behind you.

Your journey has begun.

🐕‍🦺 Mondstadt greet your group with yelling, Knights of Favonius with their weapons out and a mob who wanted blood.

"HERETIC! IMPOSTER WITH A HERD OF SINFUL CULTISTS!" You didn't know, that Kaeya could yell. Or even use 'heretic' negatively. You could see, how Hunting Dogs slowly drew their swords. In a last attempt to explain yourself and try to resolve the conflict, you carefully put your hand on Fukuchi's arm and stepped before him. Dozens of angry eyes stared at you. You cleared your throat.

"I am not an imposter. My friends aren't cultists! We got lost and just wanted to find a way home... AAA!"

"SILENCE YOUR LIES, CREATURE!"

A small stone hit you on a forehead. The hit was painful, but, thankfully, not strong enough to cause serious damage.

But was strong enough to cause damage to the person, who threw the stone.

🐕‍🦺 You left Mondstadt. With Klee as your guide, you were going to the Dragonspine to find Albedo. And Mondstadt was left with beaten up knights, scared civilians and a new baby, who just an hour ago were an adult, who liked threw stones.

Still, no one in Mondstadt realized, that you weren't an imposter. In their eyes, you became an Imposter with a horde of demons under your command.

After you left, Jean reached to Fatui delegation. Maybe, Harbingers could help to capture you.

Meanwhile, you and Hunting Dogs, together with Albedo, finished planning your next move. You would move from nation to nation, searching for Alice. Albedo promise to keep in touch with her, asking her to either stay as long as she can in one nation, or go to you, if you find a safe place somewhere in Teyvat.

Time to move forward.

🐕‍🦺 After Zhongli's and his adeptis attack on you and Hunting Dogs, you decided to stay away from the city.

Still, the situation wasn't as bad as it can be. You had quite a good number of helpers (you, Jouno and Fukuchi had to make sure, that Tetchou won't try to cook for Xiangling as a 'thank you for help'. You didn't want to get on kind girl's bad side), and, while being accused and hunted was terrible, you had your friends with you.

Right before you decided to move to the next nation, your camp was attacked.

By Fatui.

And by Tartaglia, Eleventh Fatui Harbinger.

⚔️ While Teruko and others were protecting you from Fatui solders, Fukuchi was fighting Childe. Fukuchi has to admit, that Childe was a dangerous enemy and a skillful warrior. Fukuchi knew, that he shouldn't underestimate him. And Fukuchi won't underestimate himself either.

Especially, after Childe transformed into a Foul Legacy.

Childe tried to focus on a battle and ignored that tiny quiet voice, that begged him to stop attacking and believe "Impostor's" words. He must destroy the old man and the rest of your horde and capture you.

Childe raised an eyebrow, when the old man picked up a small stone from the ground. Was he desperate enough to start throwing junk? The old man threw the stone. And hot, white pain filled Childe's senses. His left shoulder, where the stone hit him, was burning with pain. The bone shattered, skin was broken. Transformation was cancelled.

Childe, in his human form, was laying on the ground, howling with pain. Behind Fukuchi, the remaining Fatui soldiers finally surrender. They collect their fellow soldiers and Tartaglia and left you alone.

You hopped, that you won't run in other Harbingers.

🐕‍🦺News about Childe's defeat spread through Teyvat. And almost everyone were terrified of your group. Now, instead of 'Sinner' and 'Heretic' you were greeted with 'Begone, Monsters' and 'By the power of Holy Creator, return to the depth of The Abyss you have crawled from!'.

People were now afraid, but, thankfully, Nahida was helping your group. Staying with Aranaras was fun. For some reason, they start adoring Jouno and Fukuchi, and it became a current occurrence, when they were sitting on the ground, discussing something, and Aranaras were climbing all over them.

Unfortunately, harbingers didn't give up yet.

You didn't know about most of the attempts.

You didn't know about Fukuchi fighting with Pierro and winning.

You didn't know about a bird-like mask in Jouno's bag. About Dottore, who was unfortunate enough to ran into Jouno and Arabalika and demand Hunting Dog to give aranara and you to him.

You didn't know about Arlecchino's and Teruko's quarrel that ended in child Arlecchino on a doorstep of House of the Hearth.

You didn't know about Tachihara destroying Sandrone's robot, when she was searching for you.

You didn't know about Tetchou's fight with Capitano. The moment Tetchou got his grip on Capitano's claymore, he got an advantage over the strongest warrior in Teyvat. Because "controlling a blade that was making loops and barrels" wasn't one of Capitano's abilities. Tetchou was victorious.

But four Harbingers still remain. And Cryo Archon was still here.

🐕‍🦺 When you got a letter from Albedo (through Alhaitham) about Alice whereabouts, and Nahida, thanks to her powers, confirmed it, Hunting Dogs and you left Sumeru and start your trip to Snezhnaya through Fontaine's port.

🐕‍🦺 Unfortunately, the delegation was waiting for you in Fontaine. Tsaritsa, healed Childe, Columbina and Pantalone with Fatui troops were waiting for you.

The battle has begun.

Hunting Dogs tried to keep you away from battle. You followed their plan, until you noticed Pantalone, who was aiming a musket at Tetchou, while he was facing another direction.

You acted fast.

You and Pantalone, both gripping one musket, as a small tornado rushed through the battle. Each of you were trying to get the musket solely to yourself. Your fight were good enough destruction, Fatui's troops were jumping away, trying not to get in your and Pantalone's way.

You growl. You hated being in Teyvat. You hated being afraid for Hunting Dogs life. You missed others. You were tired of Fatui's ambush.

You wanted to go home.

The portal opened under your feet.

______

🪢🦀🐁 It's been almost a month since you and Hunting Dogs have disappeared. Everyone was looking for you. While Hunting Dogs would never let anything bad happening to you, there is a chance, that you were separated. And the fact, that there were no trails left, made everyone worried. Fyodor and Dazai weren't sleeping. They were discussing, what to do next. And thinking about the ways to make Katai and Higuichi stop to share their "theories" about your disappearance. Because, if Fyodor heard another "[Y/N] and Hunting Dogs get secretly married and then run away from home to who knows where" from Katai, he will do something drastic to Katai. Same story was with Dazai and Higuichi's "They built a bunker under the forest and hid there from aliens, I know for sure!".

Suddenly, they have heard the loud crash coming from the barn.

🐕‍🦺 Sounds were loud enough to wake everyone up. When everyone got to the barn, they saw a bizarre situation.

You were trying to take away a strange gun from a rich-looking guy, while Hunting Dogs tried to get you away from each other.

🐕‍🦺 Pantalone, startled by the appearance of other people, lose his grip. You immediately pull the musket from his grip and hit Pantalone on the head with the butt of a musket. Pantalone, unconscious, fall on the ground. Only then you realized, that you were back.

🐕‍🦺 It would take time to explain everything to others. One thing for sure. You were very grateful, that you and Hunting Dogs were together. You had a feeling, that the Teyvat journey would be much worse, if you were alone.

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