#a part of me feels silly dressing up because where i live is so painfully not fashion forward

[giddlygoat]

it’s crazy how i collect so many unique & bangin accessories like ties and jackets and all sorts of items with big personality, yet when it’s time to pick out a fit i’m like. hm. i think i will wear tan slacks and a polo shirt today

[charmercharm3r]

Catch 22

LMH, HHJ

Masterlist

wc: 5.3k

Synopsis: You hurt him so good, Minho doesn't know what he loves more, you or the pain. Part 2 to Water, but could be read as a stand alone.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, servicetop!minho, dom!hyunjin, switch!reader, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating, piv, cream pie, porn with barely any plot, angstyyyyy, moody little snuggles.

A/N: the part 2 probably like 3 people asked for!! Also to celebrate 2,000 followers!! hooray!! thanks for supporting this silly little blog and my silly little works, it's such a fun hobby for me and I'm grateful for everyone that interacts with me or even just silently supports me! enjoy!

Minho knew his way around your apartment too well. He flowed about the place like it was his own. You would know because when you aren’t at home that’s where you’re at. But not with Minho, instead with his roommate, Hyunjin, and it absolutely kills him inside. So he hides in your kitchen, in your bedroom, your living room, wherever you are that Hyunjin isn’t.

He’d been camped out on your couch for the past two nights, made breakfast with whatever he could find before you left for work. It was painfully domestic, hitting much too close to home that it almost made you sick.

Hiding Minho from Hyunjin when you were just friends was easy, if you got caught it wasn’t such a big deal because it was just sex. Now, you were clawing your eyes out at the thought of seeing your boyfriend-that-isn’t-your-boyfriend when his roommate/your mortal enemy confessed his love for you and was living on your sofa.

Nauseous. You feel nauseous.

Smelling the pancakes Minho was cooking made you dry heave when you stepped into the hallway, already dressed for work. Hearing your footsteps, he peaked over his shoulder to greet you. “Morning, beautiful. Hungry?”

“Not really.” Hurriedly you packed your things and hoped that the smell of syrup would leave your nose soon before you really did hurl.

You knew it wasn’t the food’s fault because your stomach gurgled, but no matter what you ate it wouldn’t have stayed down. It was Minho and his incredibly big presence. This wasn’t the Minho you knew. There hasn’t been a single threat tossed your way, no means to poke fun or even remotely tease you, he’d been nothing but disgustingly pleasant.

“Listen,” you said, voice flat. “You need to go home.”

“So I can see you making out with your boyfriend? Ha, no thanks. I’ll stay here.” Minho replied, tossing the frying pan into the sink and leaning against the kitchen counter. From your angle, he looked sexy. Plain white shirt and a pair of boxers while the morning light poured in from the window behind him made Minho seem somewhat… angelic?

Sighing while you slipped on your shoes, “Hyunjin isn’t my–”

“Fucking labels, I don’t care. I’m already sleeping on the couch and haven’t tried to touch you since. Just go, I’ll be here when you get back.” Not an ounce of anger in his tone, only exhaustion.

The tension in your apartment had been thick ever since he came knocking on your door. After the two of you had sex and you’d seen the texts from your pretty, pretty blonde situationship, you regretted every decision you’d ever made up until that point. Minho came out of the shower to find you pacing around the living room in and making a wreck of yourself. He’d tried to easy your worrying, holding you until you stopped shaking and the crying ceased but it didn’t help. You’d left and stayed out to clear your head until morning only to find your entire house spotless and french toast waiting for you on the table. It was never your intention for him to stay, he just did.

“I’m going to tell him.” His head instantly shot up, concern and worry lacing his features.

“Why? Does he need to know?” Minho was quick to rush from the kitchen to where you were standing by the door.

“He does, and I need to tell him. It’s eating me up inside.”

“Okay, but we didn’t do anything wrong, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re not dating and–”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s my best friend,” slinging your bag over your shoulder, you prepared to walk out when Minho took another step closer.

“And what am I?”

There it was, the question you’d been waiting to slip from his mouth for two whole days. The tone of which he spoke was teetering on the brink of broken, volume soft but his eyes boring into your making it feel super sonic. It didn’t seem like he was going to cry but there was something stewing behind his irises. You couldn’t stop the exasperated sigh from leaving your mouth, coming out a bit stronger than you meant to. 

It was obvious what he wanted you to say. You knew he wanted you to tell him he’s everything to you because you’re everything to him, that without him you wouldn’t know how to breathe, that if you’d lost him you’d fall apart.

And your heart ached that you couldn’t.

“You’re Minho. You’re… my Minho.” He let out a small but shaky breath, lips parting in slight disappointment but even more relief. The words weren’t nearly what he’d imagined, but he’d take it anyway because anything you gave him was just a little taste of what could be.

“Will I still be your Minho after you tell him?”

“If my Minho is the one that sleeps in his own bed, then yeah.” You reached for the knob and he stuck his hand out, covering yours and halting your escape. It was like he was silently begging you for more, more words, more emotion other than sympathy, more of anything because he could never get enough. His skin on yours after being in such close proximity without an ounce of skinship made your cheeks suddenly burn crimson.

“If you tell me you don’t want me, I’ll stop. But I want you… so tell me.”

It hurt to have to leave in the middle of this conversation, but you were late. Work wasn’t another thing you needed to mess up. “Go home. You’ll find out when I do.”

Your lip twitched into a sad smile, unreciprocated. Minho let his hand flop to his side when you twisted the knob and slipped through the door, leaving him with painful parting words.

The hours you spent at work felt like living in a place where the sun never sets, no end in sight. Not that you wanted it to, you were dreading the conversation with Hyunjin. Having to put on a happy face and text him to be at home when you got off work made your stomach churn. Sending him another message you were on your way, his response was heavy on your heart.

>> I’ve been waiting all day! Can’t wait to see you

It was like you suddenly teleported to his front door, the trip over had gone by in the blink of an eye. The entire day seemed to go by in a haze, but now that there was only one thing between you and the reason for your anxiety, it became much too real.

You raised your hand to knock, but before it could come down the door swung open. Hyunjin’s hair was sticking up in all different directions as though it was being tugged at– you would know. There was a blush across his cheeks, more red than pink, and ears to match. His eyebrows were knit together in a furrow, instantly softening as soon as he laid eyes on your tired, distraught face. “Hey,” you said softly. Hyunjin didn’t respond as he took a small step to the side to reveal his roommate standing behind him.

Minho’s eyes were glued to the floor, hands in his pockets frozen still. You looked back and forth between the two men, unsure of what the fuck was happening. “Is something–”

“No, there’s nothing. Come in,” Hyunjin cut you off before you’d even started, moving further aside to let you through. Hesitantly, you entered, keeping a confused eye on the brunette who found the floor to be much more interesting than your presence.

The shutting of the door behind you made you jump slightly, tensing when a warm hand was placed on the small of your back and guided you further in. You looked behind you to see Hyunjin’s kind smile. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary besides Minho’s uneasiness.

“We were just talking,” Hyunjin spoke, keeping a hand on your hip as you set down your bag. “Weren’t we, hyung?” Minho mumbled in agreement in no particular direction, avoiding both of you now.

“I’m very confused right now,” you said honestly, glare darting from roommate to roommate.

“Actually, me too. Enlighten us, Minho. Why don’t you tell Y/N what you told me?”

The leaving of his hand on your back caused you to turn back and watch as Hyunjin fell into the couch, taking up the entire space by laying his arms over the back of it and manspreading, his head tilting to the side and eyeing the brunette.

You gazed at Minho again, raising an eyebrow. When he didn’t say anything, Hyunjin urged him, “c’mon, you were pretty vocal a few seconds ago. What happened?”

“She happened,” the brunette’s head finally raised, only glancing over your figure and looking over your shoulder at the blonde.

“I’m right here,” you waved your hand, letting it smack your thigh in emphasis.

Hyunjin laughed, “believe us, we know, pretty. You’re fucking everywhere.” His eyes bored into you— through you and towards his roommate whose chest puffed at the words. 

The two were in a silent stare down, speaking to one another through intense gazes that you couldn’t seem to read. The only sound in the room was your feet padding along the floor to constantly turn between them in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know I never asked to be your boyfriend but I didn’t think it meant we were in an open relationship.” The blonde let out an unamused chuckle, standing and coming towards you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, estranged by the pair’s behavior and even more why Minho hasn’t left now that Hyunjin’s hands were taking hold of your hips.

He gently tipped your chin higher and peered down at you with a sickly sweet smile. The hand on your hip pulled you in closer until your fronts touched, chest to chest and it gripped tighter. Hyunjin caressed your cheek, pushing your hair behind your ear and leaning down to whisper, “Don’t stress, baby. I’m not mad… at you.”

Talk about shock factor, you were rendered entirely speechless. And breathless. And mindless now that your dirty laundry was being aired out. Neither of them said anything truly defining about the situation, which made it all the worse because you were tip toeing on eggshells hoping that you were thinking the same thing that they were, praying the wrong information wouldn’t slip.

You managed to turn in Hyunjin’s firm embrace, now facing the brunette that has barely spoken two words since your arrival.

“You told him?”

Minho looked at you through his fringe, head still hanging low in guilt. Did he feel sorry? Sure, but more for the timing of it all rather than the people it affected. He told himself he’d have you one way or another. It was just an unfortunate turn of events that Hyunjin had the same idea. 

“I had to.”

“After I said I needed to be the one to tell him?”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“Like hell! Hyune,” spinning back around, Hyunjin dug his fingers deeper into your hip. He didn’t seem affected much by the conversation, but rather amused by it. “I was going to tell you today but this fuckwit beat me to it.”

“I already knew, sweetheart. Neither of you are very quiet,” he cooed, pinching your cheek much too teasingly for the atmosphere. “I’m just upset he got to play with you before I did.”

All the air in the room suddenly dissipated, not a single ounce of oxygen was going into your body as it felt like someone just sucker punched it all out of you. Given the absurd circumstances you probably shouldn’t have kept quiet. It wasn’t like you and Hyunjin had never been intimate before, there had been many late nights of helping one another relieve the ache, but you’d never gone all the way. Of all the times for your smart mouth to not be running, why did it have to be now? Why couldn’t you have just told Hyunjin the parts his roommate left out? Why was it all coming back to bite you in the ass after you decided to finally do the right thing for once?

“Wanna know what we were talking about before you came, sweets?” Hyunjin leaned forward, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. You couldn’t see it, but you assumed he was looking at Minho, feeling the blonde’s hot breath making your skin raise goosebumps. When you didn’t answer, he continued, “Minho suggested I share you.”

Your body shivered from your spine down to your toes, “what?”

Hands pulled you tight against his body, chest to chest with no room in between, Hyunjin grazed his lips over your cheek. “I thought he was crazy. But you two are more than well acquainted. I think,” his fingers threaded through your hair and with just enough pressure, tugged and exposed your neck. Hyunjin’s lips found haven there, “I can have some fun. What do you think, baby?” A moan slipping from your mouth had him pulling away to look into your eyes, searching for any sign that you didn’t want this.

Hyunjin was offering something that was just as bad as drugs if not worse, just as addictive, just as lethal, but so painfully good that resisting felt impossible. He’d already said he wasn’t mad at you, and you believed him, but you feared what his words and his offer meant for the brunette, who still hadn’t moved from his spot across the room. There were so many things left unsaid, important things that could make or break your not-so-relationship with Hyunjin and your fucked up situationship with Minho. Dealing with the aftermath didn’t seem very appealing, so you stared at the blonde with confusion. “Hyune, what exactly are you saying? Because if it’s what I think–”

“It’s exactly what you think. I know what I want, Minho knows what he wants. What do you want?”

It felt like someone was playing pingpong with your eyeballs, darting between Hyunjin’s own stare and his plush lips that glistened when he swiped his tongue over it. Just looking at him, only him, you didn’t think to consider it. It was a test, you knew that, one you didn’t know if there was a right answer to. “I… I want–” you made another mistake, looking over your shoulder to see Minho boring straight into your eyes now, desperate to hear what you decide.

Hesitating in opening your mouth to finish, Minho’s gaze turned from anguished to relaxed in the split second you stuttered. He sighed, unimpressed and feigning defeat, then looked to his roommate, “I owe you twenty bucks.”

A deep chuckle resounded from within Hyunjin’s chest as you twisted to him again, even more confused than before. But the confusion was quickly wiped from your overwhelming emotional state when Hyunjin’s lips found yours, crashing but delicate in the way he held you. Slotting against one another so easily, comfortably, you almost forgot about the other body in the room. As the blonde’s hands slipped into yours and held them sweetly, another pair softly ran over your hips. The second touch made you jump, but the feeling of familiar lips on your neck made you relax into the touch. Minho didn’t do anything but press kisses to the junction of your shoulder, hands not moving besides gripping tighter. “Tell us to stop,” he whispered, so softly you weren’t sure even Hyunjin, who still hadn’t detached from your lips, could hear.

You didn’t. You couldn’t. The two of them doing nothing but kissing you was already working you into a frenzy, one that you knew was going to be detrimental. But like drugs, in this moment, the high was going to be worth the painful withdrawal.

Hyunjin pulled away much too soon, you whined and followed for more. “Cute. One boyfriend not enough for you?” The shake of your head made Minho nibble into your skin, teething and already leaving marks. “Of course not. That’s okay, we’ll take good care of you. Won’t we, hyung?” Fingers maneuvered your head to look at Minho over your shoulder, who smirked deviously.

“Mhm, I always take good care of you, pretty.”

Breath hitching, Minho released you and began to walk in the direction of the bedrooms. You were left in a daze, unsure of what to do as you looked at the blonde again. “C’mon baby,” Hyunjin kissed you again, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway.

This didn’t feel real, two of the hottest men you knew leading you to one bedroom, stripping you naked before either of them were and ogling you like the last thing they’d ever see. Hyunjin was practically drooling while Minho seemed as though he wanted to devour you whole, eyes narrowing as the blonde assisted in laying you back onto his bed. When you were spread out on display, the roommates stood next to and eyed one another. Sitting up on your elbows, you spoke your first coherent sentence in minutes, “would you rather fuck each other or..?”

Hyunjin chuckled and side-eyed Minho, “ha, not particularly, sweets. But I’m not fucking you tonight.” Minho turned to him confused as well, raising an intrigued eyebrow, “you’re not?”

“No,” he began to unbutton his top, slowly, tauntingly revealing the pale skin of his chest, “I said I wasn’t mad, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt my feelings.” You couldn’t stop from following his nimble fingers as they undid each button, torn between watching them or drooling over his toned abs instead. Hyunjin smirked, “you’re staring.”

“Mhm,” you smiled back, teething at your bottom lip and ignoring the heat between your legs. From over the blonde’s shoulder, Minho was copying his actions, stripping his shirt and unbuckling his pants, causing your attention to shift from one roommate to the other. Hyunjin quickly kneeled on the bed between your legs, grabbing your chin and forcing you to face him, “eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t tell what you were more turned on by, Hyunjin’s sudden possessiveness or the fact that Minho was loving it just as much. Hyunjin crawled over you, pinning you to the bed as he connected his lips to yours sweetly. It was completely distracting, as if that was his plan, feeling his weight shift to your side without disconnecting. You didn’t expect the second pair of hands on you to suddenly trace up the insides of your thighs. If Hyunjin wasn’t cupping your cheeks you would’ve suspected he’d grown a second pair of hands. But you pulled away for a split second to look between your legs, seeing Minho already staring back. He’d lewdly stuck his tongue out and traced a circle around your clit when Hyunjin was guiding your attention back onto him. 

They were competing in a silent competition, one you didn’t mind being a pawn in– at least, you didn’t mind right now. Hyunjin was slipping his tongue into your mouth and carding his fingers through your hair while Minho was working you up further, alternating between sucking at your clit and dipping his tongue into your entrance. At this point, you didn’t know who you were moaning for, just that the blonde was swallowing each and every one of them.

Head foggy and uncaring of the way your hips canted into Minho’s mouth, tugging Hyunjin in by the collar of his shirt that was on the verge of coming off entirely, your orgasm was practically delivered to you on a silver platter and you finished all over the brunette’s face. The three of your faces were covered in varying fluids; sweat, spit, arousal, and all of the above.

You couldn’t wait to strip Hyunjin of the rest of his clothes, almost ripping it off his body while pulling Minho in by wrapping your ankles around his torso as he sat up and tugging him in. They both chuckled at your eagerness, complying much too easily. It felt almost suspicious how smoothly this was going. But by the time they’d both stripped, the suspicion was quickly overridden by lust.

Minho was usually rather good at taking orders from you, it was entertaining to watch him listen to Hyunjin as well. Honestly, you didn’t expect Minho to listen at all considering how their friendship dynamic generally worked. Hyunjin’s tone wasn’t nearly as domineering as yours was when you spoke to the brunette, but he complied with minimal argument, “stay there,” he’d told him. Hyunjin stood and came to the head of the bed, turning to you, “on all fours, sweetheart.”

It was the first time Minho had seen you listen to anyone else, he got more and more excited seeing you be obedient. You scoot towards him and unabashedly eyed him up and down, lingering a bit longer on his throbbing cock that leaked with precum, making a small show just for him by licking your lips before flipping and facing Hyunjin again. The blonde sat against the headboard, spreading his legs and lazily tugging his dick. He always did have a pretty cock, something you reminded him of whenever the two of you did have those kinds of late nights.

You settled ass up, face down, looking up at Hyunjin for further instruction. You hadn’t realized you were wiggling your pussy in front of Minho until he grabbed your hips to stop them. He tapped his cock against your cunt, lewd wetness echoing in the hot room. Hyunjin reached down to caress your cheek with his freehand, thumbing at your lips with a sly smile. “Such pretty lips. Right, hyung?”

Hyunjin looked at his roommate, who’s eyes were glued to your puffy pussy, “mhm. So pretty.”

He tapped the head of his cock against your lips as his own parted to speak again, “I think he likes what’s between your legs more, sweets. That’s why the lips on your gorgeous face belong to me, hm?” His precum was smearing against your skin before you could reply, tasting the bitter saltiness. You whined as the head of Minho’s cock caught in your entrance, head so fuzzy with so many different feelings.

Neither you or Minho truly caught the intention behind Hyunjin’s words, he was pinching your cheeks and sinking your head onto his cock before it could process. The brunette followed his roommate’s motions, pushing into your pussy with ease. Being filled on both ends made your eyes roll back and zoom out of focus, until Hyujin pinched your cheeks tighter, feeling his dick beneath his fingers through your skin. Your walls clenched as your cheeks were forcefully hollowed, the two moaning almost in sync at the simultaneous actions. Minho started moving out of habit, slowly thrusting in and out as the younger’s big hands laced into the back of your hair. You were guided up and down the length of Hyunjin’s dick, mouth filling with saliva that dripped down his balls and making everything that much more wet.

“So good with your mouth, would never have believed it could be so filthy,” Hyunjin groaned, forcing you to take more of him and gagging. As Minho’s hips picked up speed, the blonde tugged you off entirely only to connect his lips to yours. You bounced against him, loving the familiar feeling of the tip of Minho’s cock hitting the soft spot inside you. It made you whimper louder, clumsily kissing Hyunjin back with tongues slipping and sliding. Everything was just so messy, perhaps you were a bit too enthusiastic to feel the weight of your not-so-boyfriend’s cock in your mouth again, removing yourself from his lips to dip back down and take him again.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin heavily breathed, “kisses and sucks cock like a fucking pornstar.” You shivered at the backhanded praise, loving it. Minho hunched over, wrapping his arms around your torso and kissing the expanse of your back. “Nuh uh, watch her, hyung. Don’t you wanna see what her pretty lips can do?”

“I know what her mouth can do,” the older retorted quickly, but followed the command nonetheless. Minho kept a firm grip on your hips but slowed his pace, thrusting short but powerfully and with mindful purpose. Each pound made you jolt forward and take more of his roommate’s cock, hitting the back of your throat and gagging each time. The sloppy slurping made Hyunjin shiver, already satisfied just by his friend’s response.

“‘M sure you do, you’ve had lots of practice. But they look even cuter around my cock. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Hyunjin suddenly shoved your head down and your nose pressed to his pelvis, repeatedly gagging around him. Your muffled humming agreement made the younger smile spitefully up at the other man. “Yeah, can’t get enough. You treat my dick like it’s a fucking lollipop.”

In the moment, Hyunjin running his mouth like it was on a treadmill and Minho stuffing you so well, you felt like you were floating, even if your eyes were starting to water. “Look at that, hyung. We made the selfish baby cry.” The younger swiped away the tears with his fingers, then held the same hand over your shoulder. Not that you could see– or that he wanted you to see– but Minho took his friend’s fingers into his mouth and sucked your tears from his skin. Hyunjin didn’t even verbally tell him to, Minho did that all on his own.

He doesn’t know why he did, maybe because this entire time, all Minho wanted was to feel your lips on his. He wanted it more than he wanted to cum, which was a lot. His body was betraying him and rutting into you with need, though, watching you take cock in your mouth with such desperation, like if you didn’t have it you’d drop dead. Minho knew that feeling because it’s the same thing he felt the night he got to kiss you for the first time. He also knew the face you were making, eyes big and blown wide, because you’ve made that face when you went down on him. But you’d never cried before with him, not like the presumed way you were now. Minho could see your tears on his roommate’s hand, continuously pouring from your eyes as the blonde kept a large palm cupping your cheek.

Hyunjin seemed unaffected by both his cock in your mouth and the tears still streaming down your face. In his head, he was loving it. He loved that you couldn’t keep your hands or mouth off of him, that even though you were taking a mean pounding from the back most of your focus was on pleasing him. Hyunjin’s head fell back against the headboard, eyeing his roommate through his lashes with a deliriously victorious smile.

Body tired, jaw sore, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. But still, you shivered when you felt Hyunjin’s cock twitch against your tongue. Mouth full, you mumbled. “Hm? What was that, sweets?” Hyunjin pried you up by your hair and you gasped for air, “wanna cum.”

The whine in your voice was like a plea for mercy, to finish you and leave nothing left. That’s what Hyunjin thought. “You heard her, hyung.”

You took hold of the cock in front of your face and twisted your wrist, looking at the blonde with watery eyes, “want your cum, too.” Hyunjin just hummed and guided you back down, kissing the top of your head and nodding at his roommate in a final command.

Minho almost whimpered when your walls suddenly suffocated his length, realizing the reaction was because of the simple peck Hyunjin left you with. You wanted more, more from him, more of him, so much so that even though you were filled with Minho, there was only one person you were truly seeing. But you hugged his dick so well and fit him like a puzzle piece, even though Minho couldn’t understand you right now, his single advantage over the other man was that he knew he could give you one thing.

Fingers collected the dripping arousal from where your and Minho’s bodies connected and brought the slick covered digits to your clit, circling it with practices, perfected pressure. You were teetering so close, but you shoved the feeling down and sucked harder on Hyunjin’s cock, tonguing more at the head and drawing out more moans from the blonde. His stomach was contracting, hips rutting up into your mouth until both his hands tangled in your hair and held you in place. Hyunjin used your mouth like just a hole, thrusting up until he reached the final few seconds, and his hips dropped to the bed and forced your nose to his pelvis one last time, milking himself dry. The warmth of his seed shot down your throat and you were forced to take every last drop, but there was so much, it seeped out the corners of your mouth. Attempting to swallow what you could with his cock still in your mouth, Hyunjin groaned in overstimulation, but took it proudly seeing as it didn’t seem like you wanted to let him go even after he’d finished.

You kept the tip of his cock in your mouth as Minho continued to pound into you, just the weight of it on your tongue somehow comforting. Minho knew how to get you to break like the back of his hand. He’d done it so many times before and he probably should have kept you on edge just a little bit longer, made you beg for him to make you cum because the way Hyunjin looked at you annoyed the fuck out of him. You should be begging him, why weren’t you?

Minho worked your clit harder, tighter until your walls pulsed rhythmically around him and finally, you came a second time. Your orgasm drew Minho’s out as well, filling you to the brim with his cum and you suddenly felt suffocated in white hot heat.

Your body fell forward into Hyunjin’s lap, both men reaching to catch you and lay you gently onto the bed. You weren’t sure whose hands were where as your eyes shut, someone rolling you onto your back while the other wiped your hair from your sweaty face.

The two men looked at each other, neither saying a word, only getting up and splitting into the bathroom and the kitchen to gather various things. Someone cleaned you up and someone made you drink water, everything felt like a blur. You had fallen unconscious for a few moments, and in those moments, Hyunjin and Minho exchanged nothing but agreeing looks. Nothing could be done about the elephant in the room if the most important party was asleep.

So when everyone was decently clean, Hyunjin climbed into his bed next to you and your arms unconsciously wrapped around his torso. The blonde looked at Minho who stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, “you owe me twenty bucks,” and nodded to the empty space behind you.

He didn’t know what to do, just that he wanted to hold you so badly, even if you weren’t holding him back. Minho, exhausted physically and mentally, got into Hyunjin’s bed and hid his face into the back of your neck, tiredly kissing the warm skin until your scent was all he could smell. He ignored the sound of Hyunjin kissing you, hoping and praying you weren’t kissing him back.

Feeling heat encase you on both sides made you stir awake just a little, enough to know you were sandwiched between the two men who made you so incredibly dizzy. Eyes blinking open enough to catch the blonde hair in front of your face, you shifted to lay your arm beneath Hyunjin’s neck while the other reached behind you to find Minho’s leg, draping it over your hip. A soft peck was placed against your lips, too deep into sleep to reciprocate but appreciated anyway. There, you fell asleep, hoping that you could wake up in your own bed and it all would have been a sick, twisted dream.

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @aliferousminho @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules

[incaensio]

his laughter prompts a wide smile from her, before she's humming. "maybe when everyone's gone." she won't be licking his face, but something else, is the promise, but it's light-hearted. she does not feel the hunger that has been consuming her most times he's near for the most of the week — despite that, katniss has realized she's content to be with him, on his arms, in whatever situation possible, even if that's just sitting on his lap, in the front of half a dozen of weird capitolites that gawk at them as if they are doing something way less innocent than just enjoying each other's companies. "mm, i know. i've seen it earlier, we had lunch together." she doesn't know the real thing, the blue-black-white wings and the sleek dress that awaits her underneath the several kilograms of the golden dress she's seen and tried on this morning, so she thinks it's just another night, another interview, another dress. all painfully regular in the consumable part of their lives, distinct only by their parting, by the one knowledge she does know and he does not; she doesn't want to share about their inevitable failure in getting any of their tributes out of the arena. maybe when they're home, she can find the words to speak of such cruelty, but she can't tell. can't tell if she will ever be okay about that, if speaking of it will make anything better, because they have so many people whose names effie can pluck from the bowl every year, just to torture them, and if she thinks of that, everything will sour.

and this is sweet. peeta's hand on her body, his ever constant warmth, his kind words, the way his accent peeks through his pretty speech. not for anyone else, but her — she feels quite silly that this matters now, makes something in her belly flutter no longer in anxiety, but something lighter. the hand that caressed his face drops to rest on the opening of his robe, fingertips drawing indistinguishable on his chest while the free hand goes to take his, lifting it up enough so the clothing falls down and exposes his wrist, surrounded by the hair tie where she had placed it yesterday. she feels the smile on her lips again. "'didn't think you'd take it off. it gotta stay there until next february." valentine's day is a silly capitolite holiday, and nothing stops in twelve for that, but there is an old as day tradition about hair ribbons: on valentine's day, you can give different colored ribbons to the one you love most, on the color of the love they represent to you. red or pink for a lover, blue or white for a friend. her mother still has some twenty red ribbons in one of her drawers, and katniss remembers how lilian would spend the afternoon washing her hair with flowery oils, then tying up the ribbon that heath would undo when he got home, only to tie the braid back with the new one. the hair tie on peeta's wrist is some bland brown, almost orange, not at all his favorite color, nor red, as married people usually have, but… something else. their own. no one else's.

"it ain't like y'need anyone's help, though. you always know what to say." no, he's going to talk some nonsense with caesar and flash his dimpled smile and everyone will fawn and continue sending in money. she presses a kiss on that blessed mouth of his, but before she can get into it, she hears a sigh — it's octavia, and when katniss turns her face to see the make up artist, she's almost in happy tears. it's an unhappy reminder that they are, indeed, not alone, and she stands up, going back to her own prepping seat. "oh, you don't need to pull away! you looked so cute!" it's octavia talking too, moving her hands in a flutter, but katniss shakes head, even if the look in her eyes is lighter than the anxiety-filled from just a few minutes ago. "peeta can still coach me while flavius finishes up my hair, or it wil never be over." and she so desperately wants it to be over. "effie will be goin' with you, right? d'you think she's wearin' gold too?"

He laughs again. "I mean, I ain't opposed to it," he replies about licking his face, not even realize he's slipped into the slang. He does it sometimes, especially around her and Haymitch, but he usually catches himself with Ma's voice in his ear. Instead, right now, all he can focus is his hand on her hip, her bum on his leg, and the way she's talking about licking him.

"Nah. Cinna's always got a plan for you," he says. Yes, Portia's designs are beautiful too, but he isn't the one being placed in extravagant gowns where they can all oo and ahh over him. It's no one's choice that the guy gets overshined by the girl, but Peeta honestly wouldn't have it any other way. How was anyone supposed to pay attention to him when a woman like Katniss Everdeen was on his arm?

Something changes with her, but it's so subtle it's hard to put a finger on it. He could guess - the talk about children - but it only makes him want to suck in a pained breath. She'd been the one who asked, after all, and he wasn't going to lie to her. After their conversation in bed a few mornings before, he's extra sensitive to the fact on what he's saying. Not just to Katniss, but to Panem. But that doesn't mean he can't just stop saying it. It's their burden to bear, this role they play, but it doesn't mean there isn't truth in how he speaks about his love for her.

His fingers, which rests against her hip under an extremely flimsy and soft silk robe, rub her gently, trying to comfort. She doesn't tell him what she'd been thinking, though, and Peeta doesn't ask. Just accepts the half-truth that she gives him. "High compliment from Effie," he says. "I think you'll do well with Templesmith. He's less showy. You can do this."

She asks to cancel - to stay in bed, kick everyone else out - and Peeta nearly groans at the image. "Oh, darlin'," he says, the charm in his voice as his accent peaks with the endearment. "You know I wish we could." He leans in, so he's close to her ear. "I got a secret for ya. I'm gonna wear your ribbon 'round my wrist. For good luck. It'll be like a piece of you with me at all times."

[fishstyx]

“put the maid outfit on.”

featuring. sub!nagito komaeda x fem!reader

wc. 2.2k

genre. smut

tw. nsfw, penetration (pegging), orgasm denial/edging, praise kink, mild (mild!) toxic masculinity

synopsis. peg nagito 2021 + everyone’s favorite e-boy trend.

“You really think I look good in this..?” 

Your jaw slackens as Nagito materializes in the doorway, fingers fiddling with the hem of his skirt. His shoulders hunch over and his legs bend at the knee, but if he’s trying to make himself smaller, it does little to obscure your view. The costume fits him so well, corset detailing and silk satin bows lining his midriff, white ruffle trim splayed out against his wrists and thighs. Flouncy frills flare from his shoulders, jet puffed sleeves rounding out his sharper edges and broader sides. A pink flush creeps across his cheeks when you fail to respond, teeth locking his bottom lip in place like he’s trying to keep himself from saying anything more.

“I think you look great in it!” 

You clasp your hands together in an attempt to ward off your trance and he cracks a smile in spite of himself, relief washing over his features—but your next words have him standing stick straight. “It makes me feel like I should dress you up more often.” 

Suddenly his brows are threaded with vexation, Mary Janes clacking across the floorboards as he makes his way towards you.

“Please don’t joke about that. Even I take some pride in my manhood,” he pouts, somewhat unconvincingly. “But as long as you’re holding to your end of the deal—“

“And whatever deal could you be talking about?” you ask ever so sweetly, lashes batting away all too knowingly. He stiffens at your feigned ignorance, legs knocking together when you tilt your head pointedly. 

“...You know what deal.” 

Nagito averts his gaze, though unable to escape your own, hands clutching at the lacy material as he sucks in a sharp breath. “The deal we made… where I put this outfit on…” You wait patiently, silent stare urging him to finish the sentence.  “...and you pound my unworthy hole into oblivion.”

“Oh? And what exactly am I going to pound you with?”

However fake your play-pretend innocence, the curiosity in your eyes is very much real, blazing with the vehement desire to hear him say it aloud. The remaining shred of his so-called dignity is slashed to pieces, the hopefulness in your voice too compelling to defy.

“My favorite toy. Please, mess me up with it.” Nagito eyes you nervously, expecting rejection or derision or snide, heart fluttering when he gets only an warm smile in return. “The dildo that I can’t live without. I want it—I need it so bad it hurts,” he continues in a near whisper, but it’s good enough for you. You pull him in immediately, your chin nestling itself in the crook of his neck as your lips come to rest at the shell of his ear.

“Such a good boy, using your words so properly.” He shudders against you as you trace the fabric where it lies snug against his waist, mesmerized by the words of encouragement that spill from your lips. 

“I’m gonna make you see stars.”

Nagito practically bursts with anticipation as you snake your fingers up his skirt, unmoving from the spot where you pushed him onto the bed. With bated breath he lets you kiss up his inner thighs—lets you because normally he wants to do all the work, wants to be your little joyride fuck toy, wants you squirming under his touch. It’s all he can do just to watch, cock already twitching from how good it feels, how utterly starved he’s been of hands besides his own between his legs.

You push at his thighs, pressing them far apart for easy access, chaste kisses becoming damp squeezes as you traverse up the length. A silent smirk tugs at your lips as he throws his head back, the tent beneath his apron growing taller by the second. You palm it instinctively, rubbing circles through the fabric and inviting blood to his sensitive member.

But it’s more of a distraction than anything else, your other hand uncapping the bottle of lube with skill, lathering itself up with ease. Nagito pays it no mind, instead drinking in how you fondle him with eerie similarity to the most despicable of his favorite fantasies. So when a lone finger begins to circle at his entrance, he reels with an unexpected jolt, back arched like a cat. You waste no time in sinking a digit inside, sinful groans following one after another.

And then you’re pumping him with two fingers, swirling them in tandem and scissoring them apart a knuckle deep, then another. He’s biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting the maddening urge to move on his own, to just take the reins and ram you inside of him. He’s already coursing with the need for something more substantial, and it’s obvious that he’s ready to take additional girth.

“Used to me already?” you ask, more statement than question. Nagito hesitates before nodding, sheepishness written into the slow bob of his head. “You’ve been playing with this lonely hole behind my back, haven’t you?” But he can’t bring himself to confirm or deny it, the way he peers back at you answer enough.

You reach for the harness in turn, untangling the heaps of straps right before him, his dildo of choice following soon after. You snap the towering thing into place with a satisfying click, swaying your hips as you guide the thigh straps to their final resting place. The fit is snug, belt of the strap just about digging into your flesh—but not quite—and you turn your back to add the finishing touches.

You’re dripping with lube when you face him again, glossy slick accentuating every vein, every bulge that graces your makeshift cock. You chuckle at the way his legs are spread already, the way he’s waiting on you with a look that says take me now, hold me down and fuck me silly.

But he’s ahead of himself as usual, and it’s inevitable that he chokes back a whimper when you disappear inside of him. He gives the prospect of pain no heed, silently pleading for you to move, and you click your tongue in distaste.

“Breathe,” you command, waiting for him to loosen. Green eyes shift expectantly from the strap-on to your own, an exasperated whine starting to form at his lips, but he knows his place and does as you say.

Nagito complies with the rise and fall of his chest, evidenced by the soft sway of a centerpiece bow. His muscles begin to relax even as you’re splitting him in two, and you angle your hips up in preparation. The tip of your silicone cock has barely brushed against his sensitive gland, yet it already has him quivering, hungry for more.

It’s in the middle of a deep breath when you finally deem him ready, doubling back before bucking into that same spot that has his jaw dropping and his eyes squeezing shut. A shaky exhale stutters from his wide-open mouth and he melts into a panting mess as you find your pace.

“Good boy. Such a good boy, making all that noise for me,” you repeat, chant-like words a melody to his ears.

“Y-you really think so?” he struggles to get out, little mewls escaping him even as he speaks. “Even when I’m… being so… selfish?”

“Shh, don’t say things like that. I feel it too, baby boy,” you’re quick to say—and you’re not lying, far from it in fact. The hilt of the dildo rocks against your clit each time your hips meet, the pulsating pressure tempting you to plunge even deeper. And with the face that he’s making, all reddened cheeks and parted lips, how could you not?

You’re snapping into him now, reveling in the challenge posed by the sheer length of his choice toy. It’s hard work with the way he clamps around you, but the tingle it shoots up your spine and the squelch it sends to your ears are well worth the effort. The marvelous stretch draws a throaty “f-fuuuuck” out of him, the god-sent sensation making him throb all the more.

But with every plunge you take, you’re met with the bounce of his pretty pink cockhead, a rebounding reminder of what you’ve left unattended. His neglected shaft looms in stark contrast to his black and white garb, breath hitching when you finally decide to wrap around it. Your movements are painfully slow to begin with, building up the pressure before picking up in speed, and he keens his dissatisfaction until you’re jerking him off to the same brutal rhythm of your rolling hips.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” he cries, locks of hair cascading past his pleated headband as you press into a spot so sweet he thinks he just might come undone; but you have other plans in mind. Your movements slow before coming to a lurching halt, the absence of stimulation quick to dampen the mood.

“Good boys cum when they’re told to,” you say, but the explanation does little to appease him. A look of disappointment leaps to his face, his lips pursed in dismay—or perhaps it’s betrayal.

He looks so disheveled like this, staring at your open palm like maybe his wordless begging can coax you back into stroking him. Hazy eyes glaze over, tufts of hair spilling every which way as he sits himself up, but you aren’t done with him yet.

It’s simple to redirect his movement, his weak limbs no match for your own as you turn him over so he’s kneeling on the bed. He tries to look back but you push him down by the neck, hiking his skirt up as you position yourself behind him. His ass is raised in the air without so much as being told, and you align with his fluttering hole before breaking him in again.

You were right to make him wait; he’s shaking in excitement now, tense with amplified arousal as his knees buckle underneath you. Bottoming out is so much easier like this, your pistons devoured whole and spat back out with each and every thrust. You draw back slowly only to bury yourself once more, repeating the motion until his moaning runs incoherent, completely wracked with shivering pleasure. You can’t tell if he’s humping the mattress, grinding against you, or both, but he’s reaching his climax again and the both of you know it.

“Can I finish now? Pretty please?” Nagito asks, so strained and so breathily that you nearly miss it. “Please, it hurts so good, please please please, I’m head over heels for your cock!”

The thought of stopping again is too cruel for you to give even a moment’s consideration, so you pin his wrist against his back and collect a fistful of hair in your hand before leaning in to award him with the magic words:

“Go ahead, then. Cum for me.”

You slam into him as he rides through the peak of his bliss, squirming in wretched ecstasy as he collapses under his own weight. You can only imagine what kind of expression he’s making with his head face-first in the bedsheets, the kinds of shapes his mouth is forming when you pull his hair back like this. Violent spasms render Nagito otherwise immobile, unable to move of his own accord. He’s going completely slack, quivers shorting until you wonder if he passed out from the aftershock.

It comes as a surprise when you notice him barely holding on, eyelids threatening to shut close when you pull him into your arms. He looks like a cheap whore in that kitschy uniform of his, thick white cum smeared all over the black fabric. Beads of drool streak his chin but he’s too fucked-out to notice, let alone care.

“You did so well for me,” you whisper as Nagito nuzzles into your chest, drowsy and spent. I don’t deserve this at all, he thinks, a dull echo reverberating in the back of his mind.

“I’m so proud of you,” you coo as you stroke his cheek with your thumb. Proud of what? My greediness? My utter uselessness?

But he’s too exhausted to fight your praises, self-doubt dwindling away to nothing as you hum your approval. He snuggles against your palm without even realizing it, subconscious of his mind chasing after contact with your bare skin. In his docile state, you can’t help but to hold him close, intimate proximity sating the needs of which he’s too adamant to admit aloud.

But all good things must come to an end, and eventually, your adrenaline dies down, too. You feel as though you’re a husk of yourself, curling up beside him and letting the fatigue tide you over. As much as you’d love to watch your symbol of hope fall asleep, your eyelids feel so, so heavy now, and you expend the last of your energy on little kitten kisses that trail up his temple and dot down his nose. Your collective consciousness fades away until all that’s left is the syncing of your breath, a singular flow of air where you lay wrapped around one another.

He’ll never admit just how good it felt to be pampered this way, but you’ll never regret taking care of him.

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader)

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovelies! 🌸 Welcome to my first ever Peaky Blinders fic, I wrote it ages ago and have just edited it slightly so my apologies if the quality isn’t greaaat but the other parts will be better I promise! 😅 This is an AU fanfic where John never married Martha or had kids before he married Esme and there is no Grace for Tommy andddd the timeline is absolutely wack, I know it’s a lot so if you’re in the market for a traditional by the book Peaky Blinders fic this one is not for you I’m afraid 🤗 also if you’re finding it a bit slow I advise you to hang in there until after the time skip because that’s the better half of this part in my opinion, nevertheless I seriously enjoyed writing this so Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is forever welcome 😌

Summary:  Being the bestfriend of Jonathan Shelby meant that you’d grown up attached at the hip. And considering you were hopelessly in love with him, life was eventful to say the least. With John marrying Esme you decide it’s high time you got over him. And as they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else...

Pairing: (OOC) Thomas Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, smoking and drinking, mentions of addiction, mentions of sex but no smut I’m afraid

PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

Being John Shelby's best friend was definitely not an easy job.

You and John were the exact same age, born on the same day of the same month of the same year, precisely one hour and eleven minutes apart, and since your family only lived one house away from the Shelby's it was a given that you and John would grow up to be best friends.

You were as good as family to them, so when your father was killed in the war and your mother unable to cope turned to the drink and drugs, you were left officially orphaned at age 10 and Polly arranged for you to live with them, raising you as her own.

Growing up with the Shelby's came with it's challenges. They were all fiercely protective of you but no one more so than John. When you were kids he'd beat up anyone that dare made you cry, or sad or angry or anything other than happy really, and as you grew older and began to date he'd scare away anyone deemed not up to scratch, which seemed to be pretty much all of them, threatening violence known around Small Heath as common behaviour for the Peaky Blinders. This meant that you never really had a boyfriend, or many boys interested in you at all for that matter, and any who were rarely had the balls to act on it for fear of the Peaky Blinders wrath. However this didn't bother you much as there was only ever one boy you truly wanted interested in you, the one boy who never would be interested in you.

Of course being a teenage girl you'd had your silly crushes, Tommy being one of them. But they all paled in comparison to what you felt for John.

Being best friends meant that the two of you spent practically all of your time together, did everything together, went through and dealt with everything together. He had always been your shoulder to cry on, your ear to bend, your hugs and smiles and laughs, your safe place. It was inevitable that you'd fall for him. And fall for him you did, painfully obvious to everyone except John himself.

Shortly after your 16th birthday, you were reading a book by the fire, a woven blanket strewn across your legs and a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming your hands when John bursts into the house loud, drunk and jolly. He often snuck out to join his brothers in their shenanigans - whether it be business or pleasure - and you were all too happy to listen to his stories when he came home.

You watched John intently as he regaled to you his latest night out. You watched the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly as he spoke, a smug smile tracing his lips every so often. His eyes glistened from the whiskey and his lips were wet. A cigarette clasped lazily between his fingers, his eyes closed for a split second whenever he took a drag. Deep in admiration of the boy sitting in front of you, you didn't quite notice the change of events in the story.

"-and then she walked right up to me and kissed me!"

It was at that point that your attention snapped back, ears pricking up and heart racing as you go over what he'd just said. But too excited to wait, John didn't give you the chance to work out if you had misheard him.

"Well before I know it she's got me in the back alley dress hiked up going at me like a feral she was. Can ya believe it after all this time I'm finally a man aha!" John exclaims, a goofy, ear-splitting grin plastered on his face.

He spares any explicit details, knowing it was no way to talk with a lady no matter how close they are to you or how drunk you may happen to be. Nevertheless, upon hearing those final words coupled with the look of pure elation on his face, your heart shatters into millions of ice cold shards right before your eyes. The pain that was rapidly building in your chest and the image of John with some tart, skirt bunched around her waist fucking like dogs in the alley was too much for you to bear. A wave of nausea washes over you and you stand abruptly, dashing to the loo before the contents of your stomach emptied onto the carpet.

A few minutes later you hear faint knocks on the door.

“Ye alright in there love?” John asks, concern lacing his words.

“All good” you reply quickly, willing your voice to steady itself.

Wiping the sheen of sweat from your forehead you collapse into a heap against the wall, and a sigh escapes your lips as you wrack your brain for the exact moment you had lost him. While John had never shown any signs of liking you, you were always able to draw hope from the relationship you two had, no matter how blind it may have been. Now though, he had dashed that hope, blind or otherwise, as he had given himself to someone else. He had openly chosen not to be with you.

Not to be yours.

Fobbing John off with some excuse about a dodgy dinner you quickly retreat to bed, going without giving him a hug, unable to bring yourself to touch him. And from that day onwards you lived with the knowledge that your love was unrequited. You lived with loving him, and him not loving you.

For the most part it was rather easy. John wasn't the kind for serious relationships - preferring causal sex to the committed kind - so you never really had to deal with any girlfriends or the lark, just the occasional tart interested in him on the rare nights out you tagged along. Even then, you soon learned not to go on any nights out without Ava or Polly present and so the issue of John and his women quickly became dormant. That was, however, until John agreed to marry Esme Lee.

Tommy came to you before asking John, asking for your help in convincing him. He knew John would come to you with it asking for advice before deciding. Tommy explained his plan, marry John off to the Lee girl forcing them to squash the war and join forces to overthrow Billy Kimber. It was simple enough and since you'd already accepted there was never to be a you and John, you agreed.

The time came and sure enough John came to you, confused and somewhat annoyed at Tommy's rough handed approach, and sure enough you stayed true to your word, telling him it was nothing new, people had arranged marriages all the time.

So on he went to marry her, your true feelings unknown to the man.

[2 years later]

"You shouldn't be working here you know. John certainly wouldn't like it" Tommy said, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched you carefully wipe down the bar surface. He was referring to your new job as barmaid in the Garrison and having just finished your first shift you were cleaning up. Last orders had been and gone and every punter had now left the pub, drunk and merry on their ways.

After John married Esme you spent the next two years much to yourself. You embraced the spinster lifestyle and faded away into the passing days. However it was the turn of a new year and to everyone's joy you'd come to your senses, deciding it was high time you stopped wasting your life moping after John. He didn't love you - that much was clear - but somebody out there must and so it was time for you to move on, you thought. Reinvent yourself. This 'new you' started with marching into Tommy's office and demanding the new barmaid job. Surprisingly he offered no resistance, merely a quizzical look at your sudden determination before giving you the job. So here you were, your first shift done and nobody left in the place but you and your new boss.

"Well it might surprise you to know, Mr Shelby, but I don't abide my decisions by what John would or would not like me doing" you reply. Finishing up you leave the cloth on the bar and make your way over to the table, taking the chair adjacent to his.

"Is that so?" He asks, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours as he offers you a cigarette. You accept, bending down slightly to the offered flame and without breaking eye contact, you light the cigarette and take a drag, exhaling as you sit back up.

"Yes, Thomas, that is so" you reply, the use of his name making clear your exasperation with the questioning.

"Very well then, a toast-" he picks up the bottle of whiskey and pours some into each glass, placing one in front of you and taking one himself "-to your new job, and to your new found freedom" he says, locking eyes with you on his last words and clinking your glass before you both down it. If growing up with the Shelby's had taught you one thing it was how to hold your liquor.

Soon you and Tommy were halfway through the bottle and quite drunk, too caught up in the fun to notice. It was now something past 3 in the morning; you and Tommy had been talking, drinking and laughing for nigh on 3 hours now, going through old stories of your childhoods, stories from before you were born and from afterwards, stories of your parents and stories of his.

"So tell me, what is the meaning behind this sudden change in you then?" Tommy inquired, only too happy to see your old self back again.

Before you knew it the whiskey had gotten the better of you and you found yourself telling him the reason. You told him about John, about your love for him, about that night and about how you'd come to terms with it and decided to move on.

"Besides, it's not like he was the first boy I ever liked, so I'm quite sure he won't be the last" you state matter of factly, unaware of the storm you had just brewed.

See, unbeknown to you, Tommy was fully aware of everything you had just poured out to him. He knew about your love for John. He knew the deepest parts of your heart, your mind, your soul. Every crush and fling you'd ever experienced Tommy knew all about it, thanks to a little book you liked to keep hidden under your mattress. You had been detailing all matters of yourself in that little black journal for as long as you could write. Polly happily replacing it when you found your current one full, it was much easier than finding a shoulder to cry on every time you needed one. When Tommy came across it he had no idea what it was, merely out of curiosity did he open it and start reading.

"Oh, who was?" Tommy asked, lighting another cigarette. Following suit you decide to take a minute to weigh up your options, drinking in the smoke as you did.

"You” your voice remains deceptively steady, not wanting the man watching you so closely, so attentively, to become aware of the raging swarm of butterflies occupying your stomach.

"Is that so?" Tommy pulls on his own cigarette, the smoke rising from his lips as his eyes lock onto yours. "So what changed then?" His eyebrow arches perfectly, a smirk gracing his lips.

"You're 4 years older than me! There was no way you'd ever look at me as anything other than an annoying little sister!” You say in a chuckle, the fiery whiskey encompassing all of your thoughts in a humorous glow.

"And if I told you I do look at you as something other than an annoying little sister?" His eyes flick to your lips for a millisecond before returning to your own (E/C) orbs. If you’d have blinked you would’ve missed it, but your full attention being fixed on the man before you meant that you hadn’t.

"Well... that would certainly change things." The possibility of one of your fantasy's coming true ignited you to your very core.

Silently, Tom rises from his seat and offers his hand to you. You take it, and he leads you to his office with the worst of intentions in mind.

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Paths We Take Part 2

Pairing: Fairy King!Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, forced marriage, non-con. Words: 1857. Summary: As your little sister has been kidnapped by the fair folk, you have to set her free, exchanging your life for hers. Part 1 P.S. A huge thank you to @deceitfuldevout​ for inspiring me to write this chapter! ________________ Smiling to himself, Steve had reached out to your face, his gaze sweeping over you in cold admiration as he watched you sleep. You furrowed your brows anxiously – it seemed you had a nightmare, but Steve did not hurry to wake you up. He considered it his little revenge for your misbehavior earlier when you refused to kiss him after his return from the hunt.

The Unseelie King’s unnaturally pale skin looked grey under the moonlight, his lips of dark blue color. He was still strikingly handsome without the glamour spell, but it was not the beauty lowly humans appreciated, and you screamed when you first saw Steve in his true form, his features painfully sharp, his pale naked body littered with scars that frightened you. Thinking of that, the King smirked. Now he almost never used spells to appear more human-like.

You shifted in that little nest his fairies made for you, rubbing your eyes tiredly; you had hard times sleeping since the summer solstice was coming soon, and you were forced to prepare along with the Unseelie Court you were a part of now.

Before you opened your eyes, Steve leaned closer, claiming your lips in a gentle kiss, his fingers in your uncombed hair. Your skin was warm and soft, and he admired how human you still were after all the rituals he held to bound you to him. In the end, humans could never live as long as even the weakest of fairies.

“Goodnight, little one.” The King smiled, and you frowned at him, your eyes on his dark blue lips.

“It is a very strange tradition of yours.” You grumbled in return, knowing it was way too early to be awake. “People wish each other goodnight before going to sleep, not when somebody wakes them up in the middle of the night.”

The Fae laughed at your grimace and gave you one more kiss as you trembled slightly when his cold lips touched yours. He put your hand on his cheek, making you brush your fingers against the big scar you gave Steve the night he took you away. Your lovely wedding gift to him, he chuckled every time when some fae lord asked him. Steve was oddly proud of you resolve to fight him. Maybe this was why he married you in the first place because you could think of no other reason.

“Did you have a tough day, little one? I know you were busy preparing for the solstice.” He got inside the nest and made you lay on his chest, using a bit of force – you were not too compliant yet. Maybe you would never be, he thought to himself. “I hope you did not forget to make a wreath for me?”

A wreath of meadowsweet and flowers that had to be sent floating in the pond. It was a ritual to bound a man who would pick it to a maiden who weaved the wreath. You heard of it before but had never had anyone you wanted to make a wreath for. You still had a hard time understanding why the Fae King cared for this tradition – he had already forced you to become his wife despite all your attempts to kill or escape him.

“Of course, I made it.” You said and pointed to a pile of herbs and flowers. “It’s over there.”

“No poisonous plants or thorns?” As the King narrowed his eyes at you, you chuckled, sending him a smug look.

“Tomorrow night pick it up and see for yourself, lord fae.”

He grinned at you darkly, and you felt shiver running down your spine. You could still feel his bites on your inner thighs the last time you tried to trick him, and Steve gently brushed his hand against your skin as he spread your legs, caressing your core hidden beneath your silky dress to remind you of it.

“Silly little girl.” He whispered in your ear, biting your earlobe. “You like to hurt me, don’t you?”

“It’s you who like to hurt me.” You hissed in return, trying to wriggle free, but his grip on you prevented you from pushing Steve away. “You have been trying to make my life insufferable, and yet you expect me to accept it and submit to you? Oh no, my King. Every time you hurt me, I will hurt you too.”

As you tried biting fae’s arm to force him to release you, Steve laughed at you, rolling you on top of him and placing your palms on his chest while pressing his hands over yours. You could feel him becoming hard, and your cheeks grew hot from shame as you bit down on your lip, sending the King an icy glare. You had long lost your innocence since the night when you exchanged your vows, but you were still not accustomed to being with a man. You hoped Steve would be shifting his admiration with astonishing versatility so you would not need to be the object of his affection constantly, yet as far he had never even once set his eyes on someone else.

His grin became wider.

“I have always admired your strength of character.” The fae lord winked at you mockingly, humming as he grinded his hips against yours, pushing you up. “Do not worry, you will have a fair chance against me after the summer solstice, I give you my word.”

You clenched your teeth. The last time he said it was when the forest sprites pushed your little sister into the faerie ring, and she disappeared into the human realm. You had not seen her after that, always staying with the Unseelie Court, yet you were lucky to get news how she was doing as Steve been sending you the forest sprites who spied on her. Luckily, she was taken under the old woman’s wing, the one who had escaped from the faerie ring just like her.

“What do you mean?” You grunted.

“Have you not heard, little one? Why do you think I have demanded you to weave a wreath for me?”

His blue lips curled into a smirk, and you grew more nervous, wishing you could part from him and wrap your arms around yourself instead. There was something odd in his voice when he spoke, “The bonding spell made during the night of summer solstice is a very powerful one.”

“But we have already bonded.” You blinked, watching him. “This ritual is useless for the ones who are married. Why doing it now?”

“I have a lot to teach you, I see,” Steve chuckled and raised his head to kiss you against your will again. “This has nothing to do with that silly little ritual of yours. The bonding spell I will cast can bind our spirit, mind, and body. I will feel what you feel. I will know what you think of. I will sense where are you, and I will always find you wherever you run from me.”

For a second you became quiet, your eyes wide, body tensing as you realized what the lord fae was going to do to you. No more escape attempts, no more misbehaving, no more trying to kill him. Steve was going to have you under his thumb.

The next moment you were fighting him to get away and crush the beautiful meadowsweet wreath you had made, biting and pushing and kicking your husband. The Unseelie King was laughing like a madman at your pathetic attempts to get rid of him, and soon he climbed over you as he pushed you down to the ground, pressing your arms together with his hand.

“Stop fighting, little one.” He stared at you with his deep dark eyes, his smile not reaching them. “Every Fae King casts this spell upon marrying.”

“This is a lie, and you know it.” You snarled at him – in such short period of time you had already sensed when he was not being honest with you. The fae smirked at you in return.

“You are so perceptive, my dear. Very well, not every. But most of our kind do not choose mortal women as our spouses, and it is only natural for a husband to prolong the life of his wife. Is it that bad? You will become as strong as I am.”

“Why would I need your str-“

You fell silent, frowning at his words while Steve was dropping heated kisses to your neck, ripping your clothes and then pressing his lips to your bared shoulders. Strong as him? Why would you become as strong as him? He was not only a fairy, but the King of the Unseelie Court. Not many could match his power even among his own kind. How was it possible for a mere mortal?

“The bonding spell I will cast can bind our spirit, mind, and body.”

“I will feel what you feel,” you whispered, repeating after him as the lord fae kissed your tummy, getting in between your legs, “I will know what you think of.” His hand was gently rubbing circles on your mound, and your body grew warm to the King’s delight. He lowered his head as he left a tender kiss on your inner thigh.

Oh. As you would feel his pain, he would feel yours. If you hurt yourself, he would be hurt too.

His tongue on your clit drew a loud moan from you, and you hurriedly covered your mouth with your palm, ashamed at the noise you made. The Fairy King was quite experienced in making women squirm beneath him, and it both irritated and pleased you as you shivered, biting your tongue to stop being so loud.

“Do you understand what you are doing, my King?” You whimpered, feeling his long wet tongue inside you, trying to resist him and failing miserably as you kept moaning from his touches. “Ah!.. I-I can make you… r-regret it.”

“You will have to find a better weapon than an iron nail.” The fae grinned at you, finally rising above you and undressing himself, his face glistening with your juices. “Because the spell will not weaken me, little one, it will make you stronger. But please do not think it will be easier for you to win, sweetheart, for we will become one.”

Before you had time to reply, his hips surged forward, and you muffled a moan in your palm. Taking his entire length was not easy for you still, and if he did not prepare you with his tongue, you would cry out in pain. Steve gently shushed you, kissing your forehead and settling in between your thighs, reaching deep inside you, and drawing more shameful noises from you.

“Shh, darling. I will be gentle.” He whispered, basking in the warmth of your human body, his own heating up quickly as he slowly started to move, filling you to the brim.

Biting your lips, you finally stopped resisting, enjoying the intimacy and taking your King just like he wanted you to.

You would have time to think about hurting him later while making a new wreath for him, without poisonous wild parsnip you hid beneath the meadowsweet. _____________________ Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lovelydarkdaydream

[seodami]

Dearest treasure | KTH

|PART 1| |PART 2| |PART 3|

Summary: Every kid in town was afraid of Kang Taehyun, the old -slightly creepy- man living alone for years and years in the same run down house. Every night he would go into his backyard with a shovel and dig a hole into the earth. No one knows why and there are kids rumouring about him burying people. Jungwon was a bright kid, wanting to find out the truth behind this widely spread rumour for a school project. And what he found out would change his life forever.

Genre: fluff, angst, flashbacks, story of life, snippets of life, tiny bit humour

Warning: old Taehyun, mention of death, mention of suicide/suicidal thoughts, death

Word count: 10152 (all 3 parts together)

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x reader, (Yang Jungwon)

Note: Wow okay so this story took me a while to write and I listened to hours of das music to finish this🥺 this was honestly an emotional rollercoaster. But I’m so glad it’s finally finished so I can post it on here yayyy!!! I hope you like it an enjoooyy (please tell me if you cried I would really appreciate your responses haha bc I did)

Main Masterlist

2089 (present)

Jungwon took a glance down towards the camera clasped tightly in the palm of his hand. With a heavy breath, his eyes slowly moved up to the big house in front of him. Former white paint - now a dirty grey almost everywhere - was already peeling itself from the walls, dozens of thick ivy tendrils sneaking up to the dirty windows and even further. It looked just like the old spooky houses, Jungwon had secretly seen in horror movies his parents were watching. And it especially felt like it as well.

The cold wind was slowly whirling around the dead leaves on the ground, freeing the view to numerous mounds of earth spreading over the whole front yard and probably even backyard. Some were fresher than the others. Some were older than the others.

Jungwon could feel a wave of goosebumps hushing over his body, clearly not only being the cold winds fault. With one last reassuring nod to himself, he courageously made its way over the small path through the chaotic front yard towards the old wooden front door.

It had terrified him when he was a bit younger to even lay eyes on this house, let alone go any near it, and quite truthfully, Jungwon still felt a tiny wave of fear coming through. He had heard many things around this neighbourhood and school...creepy theories as to why the old man living inside this house was seen digging holes in his garden. From murder to even paranormal activities, everything was possible, referring one of the older kids at school, Park Jongseong, who tended to love scaring innocent young students with these stories. And he even heard parents trying to discipline their children, threatening them to pay ‘Killer Kang’ - that was the old man’s unfortunate nickname - a small visit if they did not behave. It was as if this small town didn’t have anything else to talk about than a lonely, slightly creepy, man. And if he remembered correctly, he never saw or heard anyone even trying to talk to him. So what did they know?

Jungwon heard a lot. To say the least, he questioned himself quietly if he should have just chosen another topic for his video and interview for a school project. He could have. But something deep down told him quietly not to judge too quickly, not to judge a book only by it’s cover. His parents and his grandmother taught him that early on and it stayed with him ever since. He wanted to give this poor scrutinised man a chance to actually explain himself. Why was he always digging these holes into the ground? Maybe he really was a serial killer and this would be Jungwons biggest mistake, but where’s the fun in not even trying? Right? He could only lose, well...his life...

The 14 year old boy quickly shook his head, trying to stay positive. And then he finally pressed the rusty bell on the side of the door. He heard nothing at first, it was as quiet as it could get, no steps, no talking, no TV. The eerie feeling hanging in the air didn’t make it any better for Jungwon to stay calm and not giddy. “You can do this! He’s not even creepy.” He tried to hype himself up.

He almost wanted to ring again, as his heart sunk. Damp slow steps were coming closer and closer, making him hold his breath unconsciously. The door opened in an awful slow motion, revealing the old man everyone was afraid of. White hair framed his sunken in face full of deep wrinkles. He used a walking stick to stand, his position was crouched forward, so he was about the same height as him, maybe even a bit smaller. And when Jungwon met his eyes, there was a glint in them, that almost scared him off like all the other kids would have. But he stayed put.

The man didn’t say anything, just stared at him, awaiting him to explain this very unusual visit. Nobody had ever dared to ring his house. Not even the mailman thought of doing so.

“Good Morning Mr Kang. Uhm ...I am Yang Jungwon.” The young boy began with slightly unstable voice, trying to get a hold of himself. “I am a student at Namgang Highschool and we are currently doing individual video projects containing an interview with someone we find fascinating and want to learn more about. And...I was wondering if...if maybe it would be possible to...interview you?” Jungwon managed to squeak out, hiding his trembling hands from Mr. Kangs boring hawk eyes.

He still hadn’t said anything, looking up and down the underaged student. Then his eyes met his shaky ones again. “Is this a joke again, boy? Because I have no tolerance for silly boy pranks.” He finally muttered out in a harsh tone, letting Jungwon flinch the slightest. He quickly shook his head, implying that this was his last wish to do.

“No sir, no I swear this is a very serious question and project. I wouldn’t dare to do anything but.” The boy rambled, now fiddling nervously with the hem of his uniform jacket. The man pulled his glasses somewhat higher on his nose before he gave the student a hesitant nod.

“You are the first person for years daring to come talk to me...” he noted absent minded, eyes wandering behind the boy to check if there really weren’t any stupid kids hiding inside the bushes. “How...extraordinary.” He muttered, clinging onto his walking stick as he began turning around.

“You said fascinating people, boy? I have to disappoint you, there is nothing interesting about me, I dare say.” A small sigh left his mouth, beginning to close his door slowly but Jungwon was quicker. What had gotten into him? Was it the surprise at his not so cold attire or maybe has he just gone crazy? But Jungwon wanted to know more about his story. There had to be more.

“Sir, no please. You may think so but quite frankly you are the talk of town every day.” Jungwon began but got stopped hearing the other one scoffing displeased. “Killer Kang...I know this nickname they all give me. Do you use it too? I don’t want to have anything to do with people like this.” His tone got harsher again.

Jungwon frantically shook his head again. “I don’t. I would never. This is the reason why I chose to interview you in the first place. I want to hear your part about everything. I think it is only fair to give you a proper chance to explain. They just don’t know.” He gave the man a pleading look. Mr. Kang hesitated again, letting the boys words sink in. He didn’t seem like he could harm a fly, he thought. Was is worth the struggle?

He didn’t know what or why he was doing it but the next thing Jungwon saw was him walking slowly into the house again, leaving the door open. Should he follow? A quick look over his shoulder told him he should. Jungwon couldn’t believe he really meant it so he still stood unsure, fiddling with the silver camera in his hands, metal cooling against his sweaty palms. “Are you coming, or what?” The now softer voice of the white haired man asked still trotting forward in a steady pace.

This woke Jungwon immediately out of his trance, stumbling clumsily stuttering and rambling while thanking him over and over again. He had made it.

He entered the dark hallway, suddenly being hit with a strong smell of a typical musty grandparents house. It remembered him of his own grandmother’s one, where he spent almost half of his childhood. With one swift movement, he gently shut the door and followed the tracks of this houses owner without forgetting to put his shoes off. There were some stacks of newspaper laying around randomly, old picture frames hanging on some of the white and dark green walls and old brown rugs adorning the cold floor. He noticed a small picture of a young lady in a baby blue dress, sitting on a self built swing while smiling ear to ear. But he quickly moved on. It was as every other old people’s home, Jungwon thought.

“Boy, say, do you want a cup of tea? Or water?” The young student heard the now calm voice asking him, seeing as they arrived in the living room. An antique looking glass chandelier was hanging right in the middle, brown couches placed generously inside the big room. Jungwon was surprised. He expected to shake with pure fear in his veins, but why did it feel like he was just visiting his grandparents? A friendly visit. That was the first moment he knew he misjudged the famously feared old man.

“No thank you. I was wondering if I could maybe...film the whole thing? The interview? I prepared some questions already if that is fine with you.” Jungwon timidly pulled out the camera behind his back and soon enough some pieces of paper. There was a moment of silence, Mr. Kang just looking speechlessly at the innocent and oh so polite brown haired boy. His heart already told him, despite his inner conflicts, that he was a nice boy. A really well-behaved kid. He could tell him, he could understand, and maybe even help. At least that was his hope.

“You are really something else. Jungho was your name?” With small steps he wandered to one of the couches, plopping down painfully slow with a nasty crack of his bones into an already deep hollow on the couch. Just like his grandparents. Jungwon by now was really overwhelmed by the mans compliance and...kindness?

“It’s Jungwon, Mr. Kang.” He added, earning an understanding nod from his side, followed by a motion of his hand for him to sit down. “Of course, of course. You can set up the camera on the table if you have to. It was a long time ago since...anyone filmed me.”

It didn’t took long for the eager student to put his camera on the table in a good angle. His script was already sprawled all across his lap and with nervous looks in between, he asked the man if he was ready to begin the interview. Jungwon was aching to know the truth behind the misunderstood lonely person in front of him. He finally wanted to clear the unpleasant rumours about him, wanting to know what really was behind his actions.

“Ready, boy.”

Jungwon clicked the red recording button on his camera, sitting down on the couch behind it. And he did not waste any time to start.

“My first question for you Mr Kang, has to do with your widely spreaded nickname. As you told me earlier, you were already aware of such name. What do you think about it?”

It was the second time, he heard him scoff in annoyance. “It’s ridiculous what people tend to gossip behind someone’s back when they are bored. Whoever believes these ignorant, mindless comments should go to school again and get educated. This nickname... ‘Killer Kang’ -“ he stopped to caugh out loudly, repositioning himself more comfortable in his seat before continuing to talk. “ - holds absolute no truth in it. I can’t seem to think why somebody even invented it.”

Jungwon immediately nodded in agreement, earning a small nod from the man himself. “That was exactly my point. It looked almost like people just invented some crazy untrue theories when they cannot seem to understand a certain...action.” He tried to find the right words. “It’s probably nothing new to hear, but people around this town, I think they came up with this name solely to...to find an explanation as to why...the holes...I mean you digging them with a shovel in your garden...is that...” he lost his voice in the end of his sentence, not wanting to say any wrong words.

But Mr. Kang just nodded, looking out of the window with a distant look. He suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s probably not the answer you or all the people would like to hear. All the foolish theories. It’s something far more...simple.” He looked over to Jungwon, soft eyes under the thick crease above them. He was ready to tell someone. Just anyone. He longed for a conversation for too long, maybe that is why he agreed in the first place.

He was so lonely.

“Let me tell you my story right from the beginning. I hope you do have some time, boy, it might be a longer story.”

And then he began to tell his story. Your story.

[anntoldst0ries]

Everything else is just the weather

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: ~5.3k (I sinned!) Summary: Ethan takes Elle out on their “first��� date. Category: Fluff Warnings: None

A/N: It has literally taken me ages to finish this fic. To the point that I couldn’t look at it anymore, but here it is. I had it in mind for a really long time and now that OH is back, I feel like I’m ready to show it to the world. As always thank you for your support and I hope you like it!

This fic is part 2 of birthday present for my friend, part 1 is the fan art which you can see here. Once you read the fic, the fan art makes more sense :)

This is my submission for CFWC Silly Love Stories, Day 12: Date night.

Loud knocks resonated throughout the room. 

"Come in!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Peterson.”

“Good morning, Dr Valentine. I think you are the only doctor in this hospital with some sort of manners, everyone else just waltzes in here as if it was a damn barn!”

“Hospital or no hospital, everyone has their right to privacy.”

“Thank you, child. Once again, please call me Faye."

"Alright Faye, but only if you call me Elle.” She smiled sweetly, and the whole room seemed to be suddenly lit by a thousand suns.

“How are you feeling? Are the meds making a difference?"

"They are. I am ready to be discharged today.”

"Not so fast. I am not ready to say goodbye to you yet."

“Why would you possibly like to be lumbered with an old nuisance like me for even a second longer than necessary?”

Elle just laughed and shook her head. The ‘nuisance’, as the elderly lady so lovingly put it, was exactly what she loved about her job. She loved spending time with her patients, she loved their stories and their worldly wisdom. It made her sad to see how many of them thought they didn’t matter or considered themselves and their lives boring. To her, they were anything but. 

Many of Edenbrook’s staff members kept asking themselves: what is it about her? She was a great doctor, no two ways about it, and she was a genuinely nice person. But what was the source of power she had over people? If she woke up one day and decided to start a rebellion, patients would have most certainly followed her, even if it meant they’d be leaving the premises of the hospital with naked butts or trailing their IVs behind them. Doctors, nurses, administration, cleaners and security would follow shortly. She only had to say a word.

And how on Earth was she capable of turning Dr Ramsey, the grizzly bear of Edenbrook, into a benign teddy bear with as little as one look? It was beyond everyone’s apprehension.

Had they spent more time actually observing her, rather than gossiping in the corners, the answer would have unveiled in front of them within minutes.

It was very simple.

Noelle was truly curious about people. She genuinely liked them and was determined to get to know their story, for it helped her diagnose them faster and also satiated the young doctor’s hunger for knowledge.

Patients never felt like “curious cases” or “numbers” in her presence. They were… themselves - people with hopes, dreams, fears, pet peeves and odd habits. They were human. 

So little and yet so much.

Those never touched by serious illnesses often failed to understand that sickness strips you of your dignity and becomes your identity. Your true self becomes covered by this weird, annoying sticker that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard you tried to remove it. 

But this young woman, despite the nature of her profession, somehow managed to notice what was hiding beneath this misleading layer.

Had all these gossipers spoken to her patients, that’s exactly what they would have heard.

"What's happening today?" The older lady asked with a flick of curiosity in her wrinkle-haloed eyes.

"What do you mean, Faye?" The young doctor sounded genuinely baffled by the out-of-the-blue question.

"Well, I am no diagnostician, but I believe I am rather observant and you radiate with happiness. Something special is happening today, am I right?"

"Yeah, you are right." Elle blushed like a teenager caught in a lie. "My boyfriend is taking me on a surprise date today, but he won’t say a word about it, so I'm super excited to find out what he planned for us. He usually isn't one for romantic gestures, so the secrecy is killing me."

"Do you think he's gonna pop the big question?" Faye’s eyes lit up with excitement.

"No, we're not there...yet." Elle faked a smile, but a tone of doubt and sadness coloured her voice. They probably never will be, those things weren’t in the cards for Ethan, as he already stressed once.

But once was enough and she didn’t dare mention the subject again.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's got some big guns in store, I would if I had a lady like you." - a male patient lying in the bed adjacent to Elle’s patient added smiling flirtatiously. 

"Jerry, you were supposed to focus on getting better, not stealing my girlfriend." They all jumped when a deep baritone echoed throughout the room, hitting present company like a wrecking ball. She must have left the door ajar or Ethan could penetrate the walls soundlessly, because no one heard him coming.

Exactly how long has he been standing there for and how much did he hear?

"Dr. Ramsey, flirting makes your blood flow faster. Isn't it the very definition of life itself?” Jerry’s tone was brisk and lively.

"Well, it definitely isn't the definition of recovery after a heart attack." Ethan used his authoritative doctor’s voice but knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win. Jerry had something he didn't: a couple more decades of life experience under his belt and even the best medical school in the country couldn’t compete with this.  

"Besides, Dr. Ramsey, I don't think that the beautiful Dr. Valentine here fancies old farts like me." 

"That's where you are wrong, Jerry, looks like this is exactly the type I fancy." The two women laughed, however Ethan was far from amused. "Dr. Ramsey is 10 years older than me."

"10 years? What is 10 years in these times? Nothing. When I was getting married 40 years ago, it was something. But today? Look at all them playboys with girls younger than my granddaughter. 10 years is actually a very healthy difference. Men are immature and slower with growing up emotionally. So I'd say you've caught up, Dr. Ramsey, and the two of you are emotional peers now.”

“Thank you for the fascinating lesson in human psychology, Jerry. To think I’ve wasted all this time and money on medical school and no one taught me this.”

“Dr. Ramsey, it’s because schools and useful knowledge are mutually exclusive.”

Elle and Faye were on the verge of bursting out in laughter, but managed to keep their composure and used the non-verbal communication of exchanging glances instead.

Once they made sure their patients had everything they need, Ethan and Elle wished them a good day and promised to stop by in 2 days, as the following day was their day off.

The moment the door closed behind them, Ethan crossed his arms on his chest.

"I lose you from my sight for one second and this happens. 5 more minutes with Jerry and I'd be single again."

"At least no one wants to poke your eyes out for being with me."

"And someone wants to poke yours?"

"Where do I start... nurses, who had a crush on you long before I even set foot in Edenbrook? Female interns? Anyone, who has a pair of functioning eyes and ever looked at you?"

She was adorable when she was doing this, her whole body overtaken by excitement and her hands waving. When she was talking about something really important to her she wasn't just conversing with her mouth, she was doing it with her whole body.

Suddenly, his pager painfully reminded Ethan that this was neither the place nor the time to lose himself in adoration.

"I need to go, I'm completely swamped today and I have my favourite cherry-on-top board meeting. In case I don't see you for the rest of your shift - I’ll pick you up at 7."

He was gone before she was able to form a response. Was it just her or was Dr Ramsey weirdly… nervous?

* * * * * * * *

At 7pm sharp, Ethan Ramsey curled his palm in a fist and gently knocked. The door opened in an instant, as if someone knew he'd been standing there for the past few minutes.

"Ethan! I mean Dr. Ramsey...please come in!" Sienna squeaked with nervous excitement as she let him in.

"Outside of Edenbrook Ethan is just fine, Sienna. If you don't mind me calling you by your first name, of course."

"Mm..mme? No, yes, I mean... Elle is on the balcony." She tried to hide her embarrassment and motioned towards the tall windows surrounding the living room. Some time ago, he would have been oddly proud to have such an intimidating effect on people - nowadays, more than anything, he was amused. Has he really changed so much?

The answer to his question was leaning against the railing, glass of wine in her hand. Gauzy, flowery dress enveloped her frame and tanned skin. 

For Ethan, it was as clear as crystal: summer had the face and scent of Noelle Valentine.

Long before she started leaving her toothbrush in his apartment and sleeping in his old JH t-shirts, Ethan noticed that whenever he laid eyes on her, his whole body started acting in a very irrational way. His doctor’s instincts prompted him to think of all types of biological causes and chemical reactions in the brain. Then, when he sort of admitted to himself it’s not just pure science, Ethan leaned towards the forbidden fruit theory - the more he couldn’t have his drug, the more he was craving it.

But the feeling never disappeared. Whenever he wouldn’t see her for a while - be that an hour, a day, or just when she went to take a shower or make a coffee - the very moment her face came into his view again, he felt his stomach somersaulting.

Every. Single. Time.

It wasn’t any different now.

"Drinking without me?"

She almost dropped the glass when his voice stopped the train of thought in her head. But then she saw his face, the way too seldom relaxed muscles and a barely-there smile.

A perfectly tailored shirt clung to his torso marvellously. If not in medicine, he surely would have made a name for himself in the fashion industry. Fortunately for her, the idea never crossed his mind. 

The warm wind blew in her face, carrying the scent of expensive cologne which overwhelmed her nostrils. She didn’t know this one, so it must have been new. But she did know that smelling it for the whole evening while staring at his handsome face will be a pure torture.

Simply put, she was a goner.

"I don't know why, but I was quite nervous. Had to summon the courage somehow.”

“As you should be. After all, it's not every day that one goes on their first date."

She looked at him as if she’d just been told that a UFO landed on the roof.

“On a what?”

"Well, I was thinking a lot lately about how we never had a first date. Nothing was ever...typical with us. I promised myself I will do my best to fix things that caused you pain or deprived you of the things you deserved. Maybe I cannot fix some immediately, but this one I can, so I will."

Her eyes, overbrimming with affection struck him like thousand lightnings. Thank god a comfortable silence fell between them - had she asked him a question, it would have been clear that right now he is nothing but a simpering moron.

With this in mind, he took his hands from behind his back, holding a small bouquet of pink gerberas.

"These are my favourites." Her face instantly illuminated at the well known sight and smell. "How did you know?”

"I had some amazing helpers."

Elle instantly turned her head left and looked inside, where grinning, Sienna was showing her the thumbs up.

"Wow, now I actually wish I'd downed the whole bottle."

"I'm glad you didn't. I want to go on a date with a woman, not her lifeless body, even though the body itself is very appealing. Shall we?”

“King of compliments…”

* * * * * * * *

"You actually look like you are having a good time, Dr Ramsey.”

"Why wouldn't I? There is alcohol, sitting under the sky definitely has its charm and the company is acceptable." She playfully swatted his arm, the gesture a quick reminder of how comfortable they felt with each other, something he constantly remembered to never take for granted.

“Although I love this, I still don’t understand why you dragged me all the way outside Boston, I’m pretty sure the rooftop bars are pretty acceptable there, too. A bit more crowded though, that’s for sure.”

“Are you complaining about the fact that we have this entire place to ourselves? I know the owner and he was indebted to me.”

“Of course he was.” Looks like the whole town is indebted to Ethan freakin’ Ramsey.

“With regards to why I brought you here… you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Gosh. She couldn’t decide whether the mysterious side of Ethan Ramsey was hot as hell or annoying as hell. But she didn’t really have time to contemplate, because her companion asked her a question.

“Why did you become a doctor?” The ocean eyes pierced her to the core and she had a feeling that even if she was the best actress in the world, there was no way she’d be able to hide something from this man.

“That’s a terrible change of subject. Also, I must have told you like a million times already.”

“No, you never told me.”

When she looked at him and really, really thought about it… she suddenly realised Ethan was right. Elle told the story so many times she sort of… assumed she told Ethan, too. 

“Are you sure you want to hear it today? It’s a pretty sad story, a mood killer I’d say.”

“It’s what makes you you, so yes, I want to hear all about it - the good, the bad and the indifferent.”

“I’ll tell you, but I need to ask something first. Why now? We’ve known each other for a while and you just… I just sort of assumed this isn’t the type of conversation you’d like to hold.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head.” Ethan’s expression was gentle, not a hint of irony in his voice. “I’ve known you for a while now, but there are still so many things about you that I don’t know. At first, I didn’t want to ask, because asking these questions meant admitting that there is something more between us. What a fail would that be, after I’ve mastered the art of denial.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a bitter or a nervous laugh, it was a genuine banter between them, as the British half of her soul liked to call it. “But you made me want to dig deeper.”

Was it the heat that made her catch her breath, or did it have nothing to do with the temperature?

“Plus, this is sort of what first dates are for, right? I’m sorry for skipping right to the more complex questions. It’s not that I don’t want to know what you were afraid of as a child, I want to know all the details… but it feels like the atmosphere calls for something…bigger.”

So she told him all about her friend, how she fell ill, how she couldn’t be saved and how the experience wreaked havoc on her whole life, tears glistening in her eyes at the mere memory of the events that shaped who she was today.

Ethan listened, his whole body tense and eyes transfixed. She was giving him one of the most fragile parts of her and he had to make sure his hands were there to catch, carry and care for this treasure.

“And that’s when I realised that if I focused on becoming the best doctor I could be, then maybe one day, I’d be that person who has an answer, who can solve a mystery and save a relationship that means the world to someone. Sometimes, people don’t realise that when a person dies, it’s not only them that’s gone. The part of someone who stays, who has to deal with the whole ‘me after you’ - that part is gone, too. So for me, in a way, this meant saving more than one life.”

For a couple of seconds he didn’t move. Then, without saying a single word and with an unreadable expression he got up and offered her a hand, which she silently accepted. He led her to the railing, where the sun was slowly sinking into the boundless waters of Quincy Bay.

His lips found the all too well known way to her forehead, placing a loving kiss on her delicate skin.

“I am so proud of you.” There was something so mesmerising in his whisper, sending a shiver down her spine.

“As a mentor or as a boyfriend?”

“Both. I want you to know that your dedication to people who rely on you is astounding and hardly present in doctors your age. Or any age, for that matter.”

“Wow, Dr Ramsey, smooth. Trying to hit on me with a recycled pick-up line used on a national TV? No wonder you didn’t have too many girlfriends.”

“No, I didn’t. But I believe everyone has a limit of luck they can get per life. And looking at you, I got a couple of lifetimes worth of luck.”

This was enough to render her speechless. She smiled and at this very moment he knew he would do anything to make her smile like this. She wrapped him around her pinky finger and suddenly his whole existence revolved around finding ways of seeing her curve these breathtaking lips as often as possible and making sure he is the reason she smiles… not crying her eyes out.

Although the other didn’t know, because none of them said it out loud, they both thought the same thing.

This feels so right. 

There isn’t a hint of awkwardness in the fact that they can go from being serious or emotionally vulnerable to funny and teasing in seconds.

In one effortless movement, Ethan spun her and pressed her back against his chest.  Then, he started placing a series of tender kisses along her jawline and the crook of her neck, slowly moving towards her shoulder. 

Come on, just say it Ramsey. It doesn’t get any better than this.

He wrapped her palm in his and pointed them towards the sky. 

“There they are - the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper.” Their intertwined fingers were jumping from one tiny flashing point to the other, as if they were playing connect the dots. “And that’s Orion’s Belt.”

“I really don’t get why at this point I’m still surprised that you’re good at everything.”

Elle was drunk on his every word, as this annoying trait of Ethan Ramsey being the know-it-all was actually one of her favourite things about him. 

As for Ethan, he couldn’t help but think that life wasn’t perfect and was never going to be. But this - this moment - it was in fact perfect. Why take chances of ruining it, when so many things can go wrong?

What if she doesn't say it back?

What if she's just gonna laugh at him or tell him he had it all wrong.

What if he misinterpreted everything and she never thought about him this way?

He was terrified of being this exposed. The last person he loved so much left him without batting an eyelid and disappeared for 25 fucking years.

Maybe it was better to live in a perfect illusion than a reality in which there was even a 0.01% chance she doesn't love him back.

So they both drowned in the moment, drifted in the sea of rapture, lost in the illusion that it can all last forever.

It was her who broke the silence.

“I’m getting a bit cold, is it ok if we call it a night?”

“Right, of course.”

“Thank you for the first date, I loved it.”

Handing her his jacket (her favourite, the dark green leather one) Ethan was furious at himself. 

Maybe he was broken. Maybe he will remain broken forever. Maybe that’s the way it must be.

“Do you want to spend the night at mine?” The question slipped his tongue before he was able to fully reflect on it.

“At yours? Unless you have some secret place I don’t know about, just a quick reminder - I live there too.”

“Since this was our first date, I thought it was a gentlemanly thing to ask.”

“In that case… I am afraid I have the ‘after the 3rd date’ sleepover rule, Dr Ramsey.”

* * * * * * * *

The morning came all too soon and the hot, ruthless rays of the rising sun announced that Ethan is now way past his regular wake up and get up time. He barely slept, tossing and turning, replaying every second of the evening in his head.

His hand mindlessly reached for what he hoped to be the familiar curves and softness of the body he adored so much. 

But his palm hit the mattress with a loud thud. The bed was empty. 

The all-too-well known feeling of hopelessness slipped into the doctor's mind with ease. What did he expect? He was acting weird the previous day. First date, what a stupid idea. She must have realised something is wrong with him and finally left.

But before he was able to fully wallow in the mud of pity, the feeling was soon replaced by an old friend Ethan haven’t heard from for a long time.

Panic. 

Where was she? Is she ok? What if something happened to her and he was just sleeping like a log instead of being there to protect her. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her… again. Something grabbed his chest in a tight grip and wouldn’t let go. 

Scenes flashed before his eyes, vivid and bright. Their hands touching through the glass wall. Her hand cupping his cheek through the layer of hazmat suit.

He got out of bed at the speed of sound and started running around the apartment, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Suddenly, he noticed.

The balcony door was opened wide. 

Shit.

Heart in his mouth, Ethan crossed the distance between his kitchen island and the balcony door in the blink of an eye. 

Elle was just serving pancakes outside. The goddamn pancakes. The only thing he couldn’t cook. The one thing she kept teasing him about and he rolled his eyes every time she did.

God, he promised himself he will never learn how to make them, if it meant she would just tease him forever.

She was smiling as widely as ever, putting the sun and everything else in the world to shame. Ethan was still a bit shaken and his uneven breathing gave him away. Elle finally noticed his presence.

“Good morning, I was just about to—“

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They both froze. 

The tension in the silence that had just set in was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But the silence didn’t last long. As one man, with eyes full of disbelief, they both murmured simultaneously:

“What did you just say?”

This time, he felt obliged to break the silence.

"I...I...I mean, I…" 

Damn it, get it together, idiot.

"I didn't mean to…”

Great, Ramsey, keep digging an even deeper hole for yourself, then crawl in and stay there forever.

"You didn't mean to say it?”

"Yes. No. I mean, damn it, I am making things worse, aren't I?”

She didn’t set him straight.

"The thing is, I wanted to say it yesterday. I had it all planned, I took you for a first date and I wanted to say it for the first time yesterday.”

"Why did it have to be yesterday?”

“Give me a minute.”

She just rolled her eyes, but Ethan didn’t have a chance to notice before disappearing inside. A few moments later he re-emerged, his face and torso covered by a neatly wrapped, rectangle-shaped object.

"What's this?"

"Something you should have unpacked yesterday, but then... life happened."

Elle sat down on cold tiles, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. And just like he did months ago, he took her hand in his, only this time he cupped his own cheek with her palm and placed the most tender kiss on the inside of her hand.

It was her favourite medicine, a remedy for all things wrong. 

He sat beside her and nodded at the mysterious package. With impatience growing inside of her, Elle has torn the paper up.

Inside was a dark blue, framed print - the colour of it an instant reminder of her favourite set of irises.

She studied everything with intent. A circle must have been representing the earth and the irregular dots and lines must have been the stars and constellations. 

"A map of the sky? That's beautiful, Ethan."

He knew immediately that although her delight was sincere, she had absolutely no clue what she was looking at and why she was looking at it.

“It's not just any map of the sky.” Ethan explained gently, hints of pride colouring his voice. “It's a map of the Boston sky from exactly a year ago. Well, a year and a day.” He smiled faintly, now a shade of sorrow in his enchanting voice.

Silence. Was she supposed to know what that meant?

“Aren’t you full of mysteries today? Ok, you need to throw me a lifebelt here. What's so special about the sky from a year and a day ago?”

“For the world? Probably not too much. For me? Everything.”

At this stage of their relationship, she knew a lot about Ethan’s behaviours, triggers, his body language. And not just a relationship as a couple, but also everything that came before Ethan became someone she was running through life with (the life of two doctors in one of the busiest and most prestigious hospitals was certainly not a walk in the park).

But it still fascinated her how his demeanour changed whenever the subject was serious, whenever he was talking about something that truly mattered to him. It was as if he’d stripped down of all the layers and let her look into his bare soul. These rare moments of vulnerable intimacy meant more to her than any night of passion they ever shared.

Her eyes turned to him in pledge, because as much as she wanted to, Dr Valentine still couldn’t fully comprehend the scene unraveling in front of her.

“Read the description below the map.”

Dear God, did she actually hear shyness in his voice?

She skimmed through the image again, and there it was, right at the bottom. Elle was so focused on trying to decipher the meaning of the image that she didn’t notice the words below. 

The words which explained everything.

I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY 

THAT MADE ME REALISE

YOU ARE THE SKY

EVERYTHING ELSE IS JUST THE WEATHER

Her emerald eyes brimmed with hot tears as the meaning dawned upon her. Words were very unnecessary, but now that he summoned the courage to speak, there was still a lot he wanted to put into words. He gently took the frame from her hands and leaned it securely against the wall.

Taking her palms into his, he placed delicate kisses on her knuckles, his lips tracing the shape of these two tiny hands, which held all of him. Everything he had, everything he was and was going to be, he placed in those two fragile palms, with an unspoken hope that they will hold him and catch him if he falls. 

“Look at me.” The words were pulsing with care and affection, even though his voice coloured them in serious and desperate shades.

“One year ago… and a day from today…” He smiled and she felt the warmth spilling inside of her. The power he had over her was beyond the limits of understanding. 

Little did she know that the object of her affection was lost in the same thought.

“I was standing exactly where we stand right now. It was dark and the view wasn’t that spectacular.” He freed one of his hands, but only to make contact with her cheek to caress it slowly. In this moment, he had to touch her any way that he could. With his hands. With his eyes. With his soul.

“But I always found comfort in staring at the sky. When I was at med school, I had countless moments of doubt, I wanted to quit more times than I can count. So I used to go to a secluded place at night and stare at the sky. It made me realise how, in one respect, I am just a grain of sand in the universe and how little my problems are. Funnily enough, this thought actually brought me a sense of comfort. If I am as little as I think I am, then what is the harm in being brave and taking chances? A wise man once said… There are some things that are worth any risk.” 

She giggled through the tears, the sweet sound soothing his shattered nerves.

“I was standing right here and I never felt more miserable in my life. And I couldn’t understand why, for God’s sake. I was thriving at work. I had everything figured out and planned. I was pushing you to be the best you could be and I watched you turn into someone who would one day be far greater than me. But you looked so sad, so… broken. You already know I can’t just gloss over you feeling down. The sadder you were, the more miserable I felt. One evening, I was having a glass of scotch and I remembered some tiny exchange we’ve had earlier in the day, literally a chit chat. No idea what it was about. But I remembered your smile and your laugh. Every tiniest move of your muscles, your eyes, how your hair set around your face. It made me happy. Even if it was just for 5 minutes, knowing that you are happy in that very moment filled my chest with lightness. That’s when I realised I want to be the person who makes you feel this way.”   

She blinked the first time in a while, as if she was afraid to make the tiniest movement, afraid it will all disappear and turn out to be a dream. Giant teardrops rolled down her angelic face, trailing the path of joy.

“Noelle Sky Valentine, I love you. I have loved you for a long time but I was too stubborn to let myself give in. And that, as you already know, will always be one of my biggest regrets.” 

“Ethan, I don’t… I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what to say.” Her voice was saturated with emotions.

“I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.“ 

“I love you too, Ethan Jonah Ramsey. You are by far the most complicated and stubborn person I have ever met. You are… everything I never knew I looked for in another human being.”

Once he heard her say it back, he couldn't get enough of it and a lifetime didn't feel like enough to tell her he loves her, as many times as he wished to.

“But I do have to mention this, Dr Ramsey… from the first date to a love confession in less than 24 hours? I’m sorry, I think this is moving too fast.”

“I’ll show you too fast…but I’m afraid we need to get inside, I don’t want the whole world and its wife to see how I teach you a thing or two.”

Ethan scooped her in his arms and carried her inside, despite her mock protests. He smiled and corrected himself. 

He wanted for the whole world to see.

Because the whole world was right there. 

In his arms.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

If you’ve gotten this far, I need you to know you are absolutely amazing 💗

Tag 🏷 list: @jamespotterthefirst @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @mrs-ramsey @maurine07 @gryffindordaughterofathena @mercury84choices @lovingramsey @qrkowna @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @lisha1valecha​ @oldminniemcg​ @iemcpbchoices​ @tsrookie​ @fayeswiftie​ @levinsdowneyy​ @brooks-eden​ @poudredevie​ @queencarb​ @caseyvalentineramsey​ @lucy-268​ @tenaciousdeputydreamfriend​ @alwaysmychoices-sideblog​ @whippedforethanfreakingramsey​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @the-pale-goddess​ @lem-20​ @wingedhairstylemusicweasel​ @liaromancewriter​ @ohchoices​ @archxxronrookie​

[thewhumperinwhite]

And Then You Kill Me (part 4)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

if you got the vibe from any of this that i’m touch starved and think vampires are hot. shhhhhhhh

Karim continues to owe his existence to @sweetheartblue

TW for: explicit consensual sex; kissing; biting; Consensual Vampirism/sort of bloodplay I guess; masochism; suicidal thoughts/behavior; Art Thinks He’s Dying (And Is Happy About It); Also Art Gets Dizzy And Then Passes Out From Blood Loss During Sex (consensual but under negotiated); crying during sex; referenced past child abuse.

----

Art yells.

The pain is immediate and sharp—two needle-pricks in the side of his throat. Then the vampire closes his lips around the wound he’s just made, and sucks, and Art can feel the blood rushing out of him.

It’s—ecstatic.

He yanks hard on the vampire’s hair, rolling his hips against the vampire’s. He can feel that the vampire is half-hard inside his overly-expensive trousers, and that’s good, too, in a way it isn’t always—the vampire wants him. The vampire wants him.

People want Art for many reasons, and Art hates almost all of them.

He wishes more of them wanted him for his blood. Right now it feels like the one thing he actually wants to give away.

The vampire pulls off, after a few big swallows from Art’s throat, and runs his tongue over the wound there, and Art moans, and uses his hand in the vampire’s hair to yank his head back up and push him into a wet, messy kiss.

Art can taste his own blood in the vampire’s mouth. He’s already a little light-headed.

God, he feels like he could come from that all by itself.

The vampire laughs at him, more than before, bright and delighted, like he’s as surprised (relieved) at Art’s pleasure as Art is himself.

“Do,” Art pants, too turned on to let embarrassment stop him, “Do that again.”

The vampire pulls back enough to smile at him. His fangs are very obvious. Art wants to devour him whole.

“Alright, alright, you beauty,” the vampire says, his smile warming his soft-velvet voice, which drips down Art’s spine like honey. “No need to rush it.”

“Oh, shut up and bite me,” Art very nearly begs.

The vampire laughs again, and tugs the collar of Art’s hoodie down, to bite him again, between his neck and shoulder. Art gasps (wetly; his mouth is full of vampire saliva and his own blood) at the feeling of the vampire’s tongue over the wound, at the sweet pull of the vampire’s mouth against it, of the hot rush of his life running out through his skin and becoming someone else’s problem.

“Fuck,” Art says passionately.

The vampire hums around the bite marks in Art’s shoulder (Art feels the vibration down to his toes) and puts his hand on Art’s waist and then—up his back, under his hoodie.

The staff at his Father’s house were ordered not to talk to him; no one has touched him in—

He doesn’t even know when the last time was.

(Yes he does. It was his father. But his father doesn’t touch him with his bare skin—he touches him with the soles of his dress shoes and, very occasionally, with gloves.)

Art rolls his hips again, to make himself think of something else.

The vampire’s hand moves up and down his back; his other hand is cupping the side of Art’s face. His mouth is on Art’s shoulder. Art’s blood is pouring down his throat.

Art isn’t sure he’s ever been this hard before.

He rolls his hips again, and suddenly it isn’t enough, none of it is; he pushes hard against the vampire’s chest—his mouth comes away from Art’s shoulder with a wet squelch, and tears the wound there a little further open, and it’s wonderful—and the vampire makes a little noise of protest, more worried than disappointed, but lets Art push him away by the shoulders. (It must be an awkward position, his top half angled back while Art doesn’t move his legs from around the vampire’s waist, holding their hips together, where he can still feel the vampire’s cock against his, only a few layers of fabric between them; the vampire is more than half hard now.) The vampire blinks his big pretty inhuman eyes at him, and then sees Art scrabbling at the hem of his sweatshirt and laughs and helps him shuck it off over his head.

The vampire lifts Art a little higher, like he doesn’t weigh anything at all, and lowers his head, to run his tongue over Art’s left nipple. It’s fine—it’s good, except it doesn’t hurt, and Art whines, and squirms against the vampire’s dick, trying to get him to—

The vampire kisses his way two inches up Art’s chest, and then sinks his teeth in there, halfway between his nipple and his collarbone, and Art moans properly, too turned on—and blessedly, wonderfully light-headed—to be embarrassed.

The vampire’s teeth burn on their way out of his skin and then they’re replaced by his tongue, soft and wet and warmer than it was—because Art is warming him up, because the life that was in him is going to be somewhere else, now; is going to be in this pretty vampire with his sweet mouth and his gentle eyes.

The vampire is still wearing his suit. Art pets the material with clumsy hands; it’s soft, almost slippery, and he hates it; he tugs on the collar, as hard as he can (which isn’t very hard).

The vampire makes a questioning noise, swallows, lifts his head—

His mouth is very red, now, with Art’s blood; it’s so unbearably sexy that Art has to kiss him again before he can do anything else; when he can stand to break the kiss (his own mouth must be red, now, too; he almost wishes he could see) he hisses, “Take—it off,” and his voice comes out more slurred than he expects.

Because you’re dying, his brain helpfully supplies. It’s such a relief he almost wants to cry.

The vampire laughs, grinning at him. It’s an almost painfully sweet grin—it wrinkles the bridge of his nose and the corners of his shiny eyes. Even the fangs and the blood running down his chin can’t make it anything else.

Art kisses the vampire again, softer this time, and can feel the vampire smiling against his mouth. Art fumbles with the buttons of the vampire’s dress shirt while he shucks easily out of his shirt and vest—and then puts his hands gently over Art’s, to help him with the last few buttons.

His hands are noticeably warmer than they were.

Art leans back, then, knocking his head lightly against the door, to get a good look at the vampire. His skin is the same warm gold-touched brown across his broad shoulders, and his arms are bunched with the kind of muscles you get from going to the gym more than once a week. And he’s smiling up at Art, like Art’s giving him everything he could have asked for, instead of the other way around.

Art sighs, and flops forward, until he can bury his face in the vampire’s neck. The vampire lets out a quiet breath, and then—thank god—wraps his arms around Art’s ribs and holds him, almost tight enough.

“I want,” Art says, against the vampire’s throat. The vampire is warmer than he was, and Art is colder, and he’s never felt anything like the vampire’s muscled arms around him, like his arms around the vampire’s tight waist, and no one’s ever touched him like this, like they care at all how it makes him feel, and—

And it’s Art’s last night, and he wants to feel it as much as he can.

“I want you to fuck me,” Art says, barely above a whisper.

The vampire goes still for a moment, and then resumes running his (cool, but warming now) hands up and down Art’s bare back, which is almost making Art’s eyes cross.

“You sure?” the vampire says softly, after a moment.

It’s a silly question; Art is dimly aware that if he were clear-headed he’d probably laugh at it. But he’s at least three pints of blood lighter, so he doesn’t; just nods against the vampire’s throat.

And maybe even more blood than that, because then he says, “Please,” in a small voice, and kisses the vampire’s neck, almost in supplication.

The vampire pulls back—Art’s heart drops into his stomach—and then lift’s Art’s chin with his hand and kisses him. Art melts against his mouth, gasping.

“You’ve got it, my beauty,” the vampire says, his voice honey-warm again. He’s practically glowing with happiness. It makes Art’s eyes prickle with tears, and he doesn’t know why.

The vampire lays Art down, with the utmost gentleness, on the soft white carpet of the living room floor, and kisses him again, slower and deeper. When he reaches for the waistband of Art’s jeans, Art breaks the kiss, tugs the vampire’s head down to his throat again, the side that hasn’t been touched yet.

The vampire gives a little huff of laughter, and bites Art again.

It hurts, in an almost unbearably good way. This time Art whimpers, his arms around the vampire’s neck; he wants so badly to be touched.

“Please,” he says, and the vampire sucks on the wound—Art practically wails—and then slides Art’s jeans and underwear down around his thighs in one practiced movement.

Art lifts his hips—grinds against the vampire’s trousers, desperate for any sort of friction now—and kicks his feet until his jeans disappear in some unknowable direction, and scrabbles for the catch of the vampire’s trousers. The vampire—god bless him—doesn’t stop sucking from Art’s neck while he takes his trousers off. He reaches for Art’s cock, while Art’s life is still pulsing into his mouth, and Art almost screams.

“Oh, god,” Art moans, “oh, please, I need—Please!”

The vampire has to sit up, to rummage around in a bag propped up against the wall for a bottle of lube, and the second his mouth isn’t on Art’s throat anymore Art starts to cry.

The vampire stops when he looks back at him, propping himself up over Art on one hand. He sets the bottle aside, and cups Art’s face, far too gently; Art lets out a horrible wet sob, even though he’s trying to hold it in.

“What—What’s the matter, you beauty,” the vampire says, his bloody mouth smiling but his eyes wide and far too sympathetic. “What’s all this about?” he says, and wipes Art’s tears with his broad warm thumb.

Art wants to say shut up and I don’t need your pity, but what comes out when he opens his mouth is, “Please don’t leave.”

The vampire’s bloody mouth drops open with mild horror at the thought, and that only makes Art’s tears fall even faster. “Beauty,” he says, “my beauty, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please,” Art whispers, and tangles his hair in the vampire’s hair again. “Please—at least—please don’t leave until I—until—”

The vampire lowers his hips, and the feeling of him, hot and warm against Art, takes all the air out of Art’s lungs.

“I won’t,” the vampire says, in the gentlest voice Art has ever heard. “I won’t leave you. That’s a promise.”

Art gasps in a breath—he’s sort of blubbering now—and pulls the vampire’s head back down to his throat, and doesn’t let go until he bites again.

Art is warm and loose and floating when the vampire first slides inside him, pausing there, to let him adjust. The vampire is more than warm, now; he’s hot, from all of Art’s blood inside him, and his weight on Art’s hips and chest and his hand in Art’s hair and his teeth in Art’s throat are a better last sensation than Art could possibly have asked for.

For the first time since Art can remember, he feels warm and safe and wanted when everything goes dark.

[jtrokujo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊

paring: Tobio Kageyama x fem!Reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings: for people who are dealing with depression or who are currently lonely etc please talk to someone. I don't know myself if that needs a warning, but I still wanted to write it here.

gerne: depression

summary: from a happy relationship to pure loneliness. even though the relationship was so beautiful it ended anyway, would they ever talk to each other again?

—

The days are just around the corner.

The days we are together, but unfortunately also the last time, because after this day everyone goes their own way.

You grow up, some start your own family, buy a big house, a pet, but the question is, do I want that?

This is the life that probably every average adult and I don't want such a life, I want to have someone by my side with whom I can be happy, I don't want more.

This someone shouldn't be anyone other than Tobio Kageyama, but we argued and definitely 2 months before our prom and whether it was enough, it was not a 'normal' argument where you get along after 10 or 5 minutes.

No, we had and separated, the relationship was over.

I don't remember how it really came about, because this argument was pure escalation.

We screamed and so loudly that I didn't know myself whether this could be normal for a person.

But I can remember one part of our argument all too well when Kageyama threw our photo on the wall so that the panes of glass were spread across the floor.

It was the picture with the most emotions, these moments were so beautiful that we did everything that nothing would ever come that could destroy something like that, we were either naive or stupid.

This picture was on our anniversary, our 2 year old, the day that made us naive that we could be together forever.

We were together for a lovely 2 years, I was at his games, we bought mangas, drank our coffee together and ate our favorite cake over our favorite coffee, where we also had our second date.

I remember too well how Kageyama tried to ask me at the time if I would go to the school ball with him, after I answered 'yes' he hugged me by putting all his weight on my body, a little heavy.

But I should seriously stop thinking about the old days after knowing his face - and he is mine.

There are also enough boys or even easier, I just don't go there, but I still have to think about the expensive dress my parents had saved for me.

Knowing not to dress just because of a guy shows how weak I am, I just let my dreams, which I've had for years, burst?

Even when I was little I dreamed of dancing with my lover in front of all classmates, how his amorous eyes met mine and then he just wanted to be with me, which is why he took my hand and we together from school, or wherever we are, and then he just looks at me and says how much he loves me, until it rains in a moment and we still dance together until the night ends.

However, we stopped and his steps approached me and his eyes met my lips, that's the moment, in the middle of the rain he would kiss me.

That's the stereotype that almost every girl had, but only almost.

By that I mean your lover kisses you in the middle of the rain.

It's only noon.

I should make something of my day instead of just thinking about the weirdest things, or about him.

With no motivation whatsoever, she took her cell phone and wrote to a good friend.

TIME SKIP

"Really, I'm proud of you for going out. Believe me or not, but I was seriously worried that you would spend your life thinking until prom."

Said the young volleyball player from her school and hugged her as he finished his sentence.

"I'm fine and you don't have to worry about me, Sugawara."

She muttered while her head stayed on his left chest and she could feel his heartbeat.

Walking together in the city they talk about a different topic every 5 minutes and none of them seem to bother, sometimes they talk about silly series, sometimes they gossip about their classmates, sometimes they give each other little advice until he said this " Tell me, do you already have a mask? "

She looked at him in amazement and asked "Which mask?"

"We have the topic of the masked ball, you were in favor of it when we talked to the others about it."

Not all of that.

Annoyed, she sighed and saw a mother taking care of her daughter, who has a small wound.

"(Y / N)?" he asked her and grabbed her shoulders and said right away, "How about we take a little break. I heard that the new animated film isn't that bad after all, come on."

Nobody who could see her from the outside could say she was crying, but she did, unfortunately couldn't.

Your body doesn't cry, your mind does.

To know someone like Sugawara is like a gift from heaven, a pure guardian angel.

When we arrived at the cinema, (Y / N) paid Ticktes and Sugawara for the meal.

Strangers would think it was a date, even if it was a friendship date, because just being friends with the opposite sex doesn't mean that they can be a couple or anything else.

(Y / N) should already choose a place and not long she found one, if that wasn't enough, but the hall is empty, a dream come true, sitting she took her cell phone and scrolled through her gallery, two words , a mistake.

Every second photo feels like it is from Kageyama.

Small tears welled up in her eyes, but she knew he wasn't worth it.

"(Y / N)?" she hears Sugawara's voice in amazement.

She turned and got his attention.

Sitting comfortably he started to eat and asked her if her cell phone was on mute, nodding she answered him and asked him if she could rest her head.

"Uh, of course, why not?" and made himself comfortable.

And now the 15 minute long commercials started.

TIME SKIP

Together with a friend in the shop, the two teenagers look for a mask to steal away the ball.

The mood for it is in the basement.

For once, she goes with someone who is also a gentleman and whether it is not enough, it cannot be overlooked that he has feelings for the classmate.

But what about (Y / N)?

She wants to have time for herself, because you don't necessarily need a partner to be happy, there is also no need.

In addition, she unfortunately still loves him, but the thought of him immediately occurred to her, where is he?

They go to the same class and when school is over she has to go to the sports hall because there is a shorter way and she still doesn't see him, then the thought occurred to her, 'He's not worth it'.

And where are you now?

It is hard to believe that all of the stores are at a tailor's.

But for that the old man seems to be able to do it pretty well, the prices could do away with one or the other, but you only live that way once.

While the friend was still choosing what her mask should look like, (Y / N) already got an idea and told the old man that she had an idea.

Because of her little mental breakdowns, it's nice to see that she has other things on her mind, but while she's talking to the old man about the mask and he's already preparing a sketch, the black-haired one is on the other side of town, alone though not.

"You don't even try to get in touch with her. What you said to her shouldn't say anything to anyone, so go to her tomorrow at school and apologize, then you can both live in peace."

Immediately after the little volleyball player finished his sentence, the black haired volleyball player threw him in the face, silencing him.

"H-hey! What was that supposed to mean?"

"You should stop talking!"

Kageyama yelled at his friend.

"You made me come with you!" he pisses at him.

Trapped in his own mind, Kageyama threw the ball to Hinata, his mistake being that he 1. hit it too hard and 2. the ball was a little too high, which is an advantage for Hinata.

Fixing on the ball, he jumped into the heights of the ball and hit it.

Immediately the ball landed roughly on Kageyama's face, holding his nose painfully, which was bleeding from himself.

Hinata, who is somewhat panicked, apologized several times and handed him a small handkerchief.

That still has him, probably what the pain his ex-girlfriend had to endure immediately after he ended the relationship with her, but he doubts that right away, pain like the one he has is not at all comparable to that of (Y / N) and many other people.

Trapped in his own mind, Kageyama threw the ball to Hinata, his mistake being that he 1. hit it too hard and 2. the ball was a little too high, which is an advantage for Hinata.

Fixing on the ball, he jumped into the heights of the ball and hit it.

Immediately the ball landed roughly on Kageyama's face, holding his nose painfully, which was bleeding from himself.

Hinata, who is somewhat panicked, apologized several times and handed him a small handkerchief.

That still has him, probably what the pain his ex-girlfriend had to endure immediately after he ended the relationship with her, but he doubts that right away, pain like the one he has is not at all comparable to that of (Y / N) and many other people.

He looked at his hand, which was covered with blood, he immediately took his bottle with his free hand and poured it over his hand.

Then he looked at Hinata and sighed, "Let's go shopping tomorrow."

Hinata himself noticed how his friend was changing, but he does not want to interfere in matters that do not concern him, but unfortunately he knew too well that it cannot go on like this and since Kageyama and something has happened Hinata reached for his cell phone and wrote (Y / N).

It is late in the evening when (Y / N) came home safe and sound, she took a warm shower, but immediately afterwards she went straight to her room without having eaten anything.

She carefully took her finished mask out of her bag, then took out her headphones, snacks, her wallet and her cell phone, when she wanted to see if she got a message from her friend, she saw that she had one about 3 hours ago Message received from Hinata.

Hey (Y / N), do you have time tomorrow?

Want to annoy you. :)

She couldn't help but grin and wrote to him to get a volleyball.

It's nice to have someone like Hinata because no matter what comes between you, he's always there for you.

Hinata wrote her that she should have nice dreams and was offline immediately afterwards.

(Y / N) decided to sleep right after, because even if she wasn't in the mood to meet anyone before that, apart from her friend from lunchtime, saying no to Hinata is a big taboo.

The next morning (Y / N) got ready and told her parents that Hinata was coming.

Snacks on the desk, the cuddly pillows spread out on the bed and the old Nintendo lying in bed.

Riding a bike with a rucksack, little Orange made his way to his girlfriend.

The weather was too good enough for such a day, because the sun was covered by wool and the clouds are gray, not white like yesterday.

But that didn't stop Hinata from being happy.

After about half an hour, Hinata finally arrived late, he put his bike right next to the door of the (H / C) hairy girl and rang the bell.

Without waiting long the door opened, contrary to what he expected, he saw his girlfriend with an honest smile.

After a short hug, he entered the little house, but of course he took off his shoes for the first time.

While the two friends were having fun, the black-haired one sits alone in his room and watches his favorite films.

Today the day has arrived.

This morning (Y / N) had showered and at the moment she was doing her hair with the help of her mother.

At the same time, Kageyama is pondering in the shower while the water flows through his body.

When the hairstyle fits perfectly on the head (Y / N) just pulled a thin dressing gown under her underwear and watched the new episodes of her series at the same time.

She looks at her cell phone every now and then and notices how slowly the time goes by.

She still has a good 5 hours ahead of her.

TIME SKIP

While her mother helps her to lock the dress, (Y / N) stared at the floor thoughtfully.

"You look like a little princess." said her mother to her and her ear and she looked at the mirror which is in front of them and touched her daughter's shoulders.

A little insecure, she cocked her head and looked in the mirror and she looks pretty pretty.

The hairstyle fits perfectly in the head, the dress exudes an extraordinary aura and now the only thing missing is the mask.

"Where's my mask." she asked her mother, she will get it right away which one was on her bed.

"Thanks." she thanked her and hugged her mother, but not only because of this mask, no.

When she found out that her daughter's relationship was failing, she was always there for her daughter and even managed to cheer her up.

"You have to be there in 20 minutes, come I'll drive you there." said the mother and went ahead.

(Y / N) quickly took her little bag and put her cell phone, power bank and mask there before she left her room.

In the car she asked her mother if she could also pick up Hinata, with a 'yes' she agreed and drove in the direction of the orange-haired one.

He was about to set off on a bicycle when his mother honked the horn and drew attention to him (Y / N), got out of the car and said loudly that he should get in.

Hinata quickly told his mother that he was being driven and ran straight to his girlfriend. "You look great, Hinata." she said to him with which he said, "You always do that." answered.

Giggling, the friends sat down in the car and talked about 10 different topics in this short drive.

"We are there." said the mother.

As they got out, they thanked them and made their way into the building.

"Nervous?" asked Hinata (Y / N), she just shook her head and said that they should go inside.

They parted ways in the building as they are now keeping their friends for company.

Hinata went to his volleyball and greeted each one of them.

(Y / N) went to her small circle of friends and hugged each of them with a warm hug. She noticed that she had forgotten to put on her mask, what she is doing now.

Kageyama, who also talks to Hinata, looks out for his ex-girlfriend, because the only thing he still wants to do is to apologize, he was cowardly yes.

That's why he's so eager to apologize today and besides, he still loves her but he knows himself that it might be better not to get together with her again.

The crowds of students drink some punch, some dance like crazy or talk.

After the time the music got a bit too loud for (Y / N), so she leaves the building and takes a little break.

Without knowing someone else came out the door and it was none other than Kageyama.

"(Y / N)." she heard him say her name, unfortunately she knew that voice too well.

Turning around nervously, she saw him taking the mask off his face, she did the same and asked him what he was doing here.

"I wanted to apologize to you, apologize for how I treated you.

We both know you deserve someone better. I'm terribly sorry (Y / N). "

Kageyama apologized and bowed to (Y / N), of course she was a bit overwhelmed but immediately said "You don't have to apologize for what you are not guilty of, we both made a mistake, so I just think we don't need an apology. "

He hugged her warmly and mumbled softly "Do you think we could become something?"

"Sure, but we shouldn't think about tomorrow if you get what I'm talking about."

Nodding, he continued the hug until she said, "Let's go in, I'm getting cold, aren't you?"

"No, but I think you're right."

TIME SKIP

It has been a total of 2 years after graduation.

The black-haired guy was just getting the last boxes out of the car, while (Y / N) put the boxes in the respective room.

Kageyama quietly crept behind (Y / N) and covered her eyes "Kageyama since I've been your fiancée you can't seem to do anything other than cover my eyes, right?"

She giggled and took his hands from her eyes.

He just giggled and shrugged his shoulders and asked "Shall we order food today?"

"Only when you talk."

"Yeah ok, lazy." he mumbled, but he wasn't quiet enough because she threw one of the little things at him.

"I heard it."

[alia-turin]

After me pooling you guys yesterday it was determined that now I need to post that Caranthir fic I have been writing for weeks now and I’m very much unsure about. By popular demand here it comes. It will  be multichapter, it is actually mostly finished but it does need some polishing and final touches, I would try to post at least one chapter per week if not more. Not sure how many chapters will be overall, but I do promise some more Aen Elle action later. Thank you for reading. The fic is kind of a follow up on this story HERE but you don’t have to read it, things will make sense either way.

Fic Title: Somewhere in Time (Chapter 1) Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Pairing: Caranthir/F/OC Warning: Canon typical violence for this chapter AO3 Link

She could hear noises around that she was not familiar with. The forest had always been silent beside the songs of birds and the occasional animal passing by. Wind or rain, but not that. Footsteps, many of them.

Aine looked through the window, she could see shadows in the distance and hear muffled voices. It wasn’t too stranger for a hunter to find himself that deep in the woods, but it was not usual. Based on the number of voices and steps, that was not just one hunter. Then there was another sound she had not heard in the forest - horses running and dogs howling. She felt fear running through her body, she was alone and that had never scared her, although she had wondered what she would do if someone was to come and try and harm her. For five years that has not been something that never happened, nor she had reason to think it might actually happen. She ran to the door to make sure it was locked and that was when the screams started. Those were not animal screams, those were elven or human voices wrapped in fear. She stepped back from there as if being away would stop the horrible picture that was growing in her head and disappear, but that did not change, it just became louder and more violent.

She made another step backwards when something hit the door. It sounded as if a tree trunk was thrown against it. Another hit and she jumped, as it happened, on the third hit the door fell open. Her breath stuck in her throat when she saw what came through the door. What she assumed was a man was dressed in armor taller and larger than any elf or human she had seen.

“You are a pretty one.” he said as he walked toward her, she could not see his face as he was wearing a helmet but Aine could swear she could hear a chuckle even if whatever rational part of her brain was working told her that was not possible. She tried to run away, right through her table, but as soon as she turned her back on him he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her toward himself. She screamed, she tried to reach for his grip, but her nails painfully dug in his armor. He dragged her out of the house as if she was nothing, his grip pulling cruelly on her hair, her legs trying to keep her somewhat standing, but that failed. She was just a rag doll, she could feel her clothes tearing as they rubbed against dirt and stone, her skin started burning.

Caranthir dismounted his horse in the midst of the chaos. Humans were screaming around him, dogs howling and the smell of blood filled his head like a long needed drug. Part of him felt pity for the forest being disturbed by the sounds of violence, but it was going to be over soon. When they captured the escaped humans he could just open a portal to Tir na Lia and they will be done with that pitiful task. He looked around as their men were already lining the humans next to a small wooden house. Strange, he had not been that far in the woods recently, but a house here? It looked more like an old hunting lodge, a very small one, maybe that is why it was abandoned. It wasn’t too far from the nearest town, but it wasn’t close either. As he was musing over the place he saw Imlerith march from the entrance, dragging someone after himself. A woman, she couldn’t keep her balance, her legs and feet were just trying to keep up with the mountain of a man that was pulling her. At first Caranthir ignored it, that was not something that caught his attention anymore, Imlerith can do whatever. He was about to walk away, he didn’t need to see that, although he was going to hear about it no matter if he wanted or not. That woman better preyed for quick death as he was sure Imlerith won’t show an ounce of mercy. Then something caught his attention. Caranthir turned very slowly and just now noticed what Imlerith was dragging. The first thing he saw was the bundle of red hair in the man’s fist, a spark of green eyes with delicate features.

It couldn’t be. Memories rolled in his mind like an avalanche.

He rushed toward Imlerith, he was in fact running, but he realized that only after he reached the other man.

“Stop.” he placed a hand on Imlerith’s shoulder. He was sitting on top of her already, her body looked so small and fragile compared to him. “Stop!” he repeated louder and Imlerith did stop, he couldn’t see his face because of the helmet but he could imagine the annoyance. Foolish of Caranthir to stay between a beast and his prey.

“Want to join?” Imlerith tilted his head, the woman tried to push him off herself, silly girl, even Caranthir wasn’t sure if he would be able to move the other man if he was in her place.

Caranthir didn’t say a thing, he was struggling with his own confusion, she was nothing to him, just some girl that for a second brough painful memories to his mind, but he knew it wasn’t her, so why did he even bother what happened?

“We don’t have time for that.” Was the first thing that came to Caranthri’s mind. They had time for...everything they were not running on a schedule, that could take them days if they wanted to no one was going to tell them a thing.

“You want her for yourself.” Imlerith started laughing. He pushed himself up and stepped away. “Go on then.”

The girl saw her chance and tried to run, but Caranthir used his staff to trip her, she fell face down, and he pressed his foot on her lower back so she couldn’t escape. Imlerith walked away laughing as if he just witnessed a hilarious joke. It was a joke just not a very funny one.

“Please…” the woman pleaded as he moved his foot off and knelt next to her. He grabbed her face, his armoured hand gripping her jaw hard and forcing her to look at him.

He observed her carefully, hair was the same blood red color, but that was about where the similarities ended. Two very different women, not much in common between them, his mind was playing tricks on him, she was dead while the girl in his hand was very much alive. It wasn’t her obviously, but why was he so bothered? She was pretty, very pretty. Half human half elf, frame was smaller and shorter, more human, but even frozen with fear it had the Aen Elle grace. Her face was also just a mix of both races, still beautiful despite the tears and then there were the eyes. Once upon a time he had tried to figure out how exactly Avallac’h had made him. He read about so many genetic oddities, including the mismatching eye colors, a rarity, certainly just nature doing its thing in her case, unlike all the malformations on his body. Then he sensed something he had missed before. He tilted his head to the side and smiled. “You can use magic.” it wasn’t a question.. Her tears had stopped, but she still looked at him like a doe that was about to be devoured by wolves. “You should have defended yourself.”

She continued to look at him with these scared eyes and for a second time today he had to fight with his own mind. Part of him wanted to end her here, she was half human, humans should not be allowed anywhere near magic, they were too weak. But she was also Aen Elle. Even more importantly something in his chest was feeling so tight that it almost hurt physically. That was stupid. She was dead, that was just some random girl Imlerith dragged out of nowhere.

“Caranthir!” it was Imlerith shouting somewhere behind him, but he ignored him. He had to decide what to do. She wasn’t one of the humans they were hunting; he knew that, but he could not leave her here either. Half human, half elf with magic, that she probably didn’t know how to control, otherwise Imlerith would have had a very bad day. No, it was irresponsible to leave her here. Too dangerous.

“You will be coming with me.” as soon as he said that she tried to pull away from his grip but he was holding her jaw firm if she yanked any harder she was more likely to break it than run away from him. Caranthir released his grip for a second, but then moved his hand to her throat, her neck so small in his hold, he could probably break it with little effort. He got up, pulling her with himself, she choked, fighting for breath even if he did not think he was holding her too hard. She tried to say something but the words just didn’t come.

He started opening portals to Tir na Lia, as he watched her lose consciousness.

When she woke up she was lying on a cold stone. She wanted to believe everything that had happened was just a nightmare, but her surroundings hinted to the opposite. Aine lifted herself up slowly, her legs and back were burning from the way the stone and earth had scratched them. Standing all the way seemed like a difficult task but she did it. She was in a room, certainly not one she had ever seen before. There was a bed, table with a couple of chairs, a chest of drawers and a window to the far end. The space was almost as large as the log cabin where she lived. Floors and walls were solid stone and all the furniture was dark old wood. She walked slowly to the window, that should help her figure out where she was. Even that little walk, no more than 3 feet, was painful. Her knees have been badly bruised and every attempt to bend them was just jolts of pain and discomfort. Slowly she made her way and all she could do was stare. Tir na Lia, that was where she was, she knew the city, but she has never seen it from that point, that high up...she must be in the castle. Fear ran down her spine, why was she alive and why was she here…

That was when the door opened and Aine turned not sure she wanted to face whatever might come from there. A man walked in, taller than her, but that wasn’t really a surprise, being only half elf almost everyone was taller than her, even some humans. The elf started walking toward her and she pressed her back against the wall wishing she had more space to avoid him. It took him just a couple of steps to get to her and he grabbed her throat, painful from this morning, using his fingers to turn her head left and right as if observing a horse he was about to buy. She was terrified. Her heart was beating hundreds of kilometers per hour and she could barely breath and the reason was not his hand on her neck. His touch was almost gentle if anything in this situation could be gentle. Even from the weird angle her head was turned she could see his face. Pale hair and cold eyes, tattoos were crawling on his neck and disappearing under the furs of his cloak. Terrible scars were covering half of his face which despite the strands of hair over them she could see.

Caranthir looked at the marks his gauntlet had left around her throat, the skin already turning blue and purple. That was uncalled for, he could have been more careful. On the other hand why did he even bother about some half bred mutt? He should have broken her neck in the woods and ended it there. Instead he had taken her in Tir na Lia, for what? Because she reminded him of someone he had lost so many years ago that he could barely recall her face? But he did not need to remember the face, he remembered the feeling. Mostly the hate he felt when he lost her, the need to destroy and hurt, but when he saw this half-breed’s face something else made him stop. A feeling he had buried so deep in himself that he did not even know it existed anymore. A need he had convinced himself over so many years to be childish and unnecessary. He was imagining things, he was overthinking it.

“Please...let me go…” her voice came through broken, he couldn’t determine if it was the fear or the fact he had hurt her too bad this morning.

“Cannot let half human mage just roam around Tir na Lia.” his answer was not that much directed at her, he had no interest in her plea, it was mostly a thought he vocalized. That was too dangerous. But if that was dangerous, why was he unable to just kill her? All he had to do is snap her neck as he was holding her, push her through the window next to them, or any manner of magic that he could think about. No, not unable, he was more than able. Unwilling. His mind was conflicted for unknown reasons and all he could do was stare at her. The long red hair, complete mess from Imlerith dragging her in the woods, her face dirty but still beautiful and the mismatching eyes - green and brown. Somehow she also looked equally Aen Elle and human. When he tried to point to a future that was more human to convince himself that she is nothing but a cockroach that needs to be killed, he would find something that made her look as elven as he was.

“I’m not a mage…” there were no tears in her eyes but her voice sounded more like a cry than anything else.

Caranthir did not comment on that, he knew what he was feeling, magic is one of the things he knew better than anyone. She was either lying to him or she was not aware she had powers. But she had....she was not as old as he was, definitely much younger but an adult nonetheless. She should have felt something or done something that would make her experience the power she had no matter how weak it might be.

“Ever moved an object that you couldn’t reach but it somehow ended up in your hand?” she shook her head at the question. “Ever destroyed something just with thought in a fit of anger?” again shaking for no. “Ever had a dream that became true?” Again no.

He wasn’t wrong. That started bothering him and he could feel an obsession growing in him. He had to figure that out. He removed his hand from her throat and ran a finger through her cheek, wet with tears. She was beautiful. Not like her, it was a different sort of beauty, less...polished. Caranthir was hurting and felt excited at the same time, it had been years since something could provoke so many strong emotions in him.

“I will ask someone to bring you food and new clothes.” he stepped back just to see her frame visibly sink in relief. He knew he had that effect on people but somehow he felt a bit disappointed. He could have done worse, much worse.

[redqueen-hypothesis]

overdose ➳ lucien (mlqc)

➳ PAIRING: reader x lucien xu (mlqc)

➳ WORD COUNT: 3401

➳ GENRE: angst, questionable good ending

➳ SYNOPSIS: contains spoilers from chapter 25, angst, angst and more angst!

He’s shaking.

Trembling, his fingers reach out for a tiny glass bottle. He misses the first time, grabs it on the second, drawing it towards him and inserting a syringe into it, filling it with clear, crystal liquid.

His hands twitch involuntarily, causing the level of liquid in the syringe to shoot up far past a normal dose, but he doesn’t care about that right now. Releasing the remains of the empty bottle, the glass falls to the ground and shatters - joining the other broken shards on the ground in iridescent smithereens.

He collapses on the bed in a mess of clammy skin and cold sweat, yanking up one sleeve to reveal his forearm. The silence is deafening in his ears, almost unbearably so. He can’t stand another second of it.

This empty world, this aching loneliness.

The needle breaks skin, silver sinking into his arm. The press of the syringe feels almost cathartic, a release from the torturous longing he’s had to suffer since that day.

Tossing the emptied syringe to the side, he allows himself to lie back on the bed, exhausted. His heartbeat slows, monochrome world before his eyes swimming in shades of black and grey. Disembodied echoes of laughter, that of a man and woman, tug at him from the recesses of his mind - an old memory wrapping its claws around his throat.

He closes his eyes, abandoning himself at the edge of insanity, and lets himself fall.

He’ll see you soon enough.

>>>

You’re dressed in white.

A summer dress of lace, hem flirting with your knees, the vision of innocence and purity even in the darkness of his room. Untainted by the ugliness of the world, bold in kindness and enduring in your own right. Lucien’s always admired that about you, perhaps more than he should.

His ruin has been brought about by his own hands. He destroyed himself the very moment he fell for you.

You’re crouched beside him, barefoot on glass shards scattered across his bedroom floor, and yet you do not bleed nor cry out in pain. Instead, your expression is serene, a mere white canvas. His eyes drink in the sight of your face like a man parched from wandering deserts without a drop of water, from the tilt of your mouth to the softness in your eyes.

He’s missed you so much. He misses you so painfully that it’s difficult to breathe. There’s a gaping chasm in his chest that just refuses to be filled no matter what he pours into it, leaving him an empty, hollow shell of a man.

You had once asked him this question, standing on opposite ends of a press room, if the advancement of the world was worth the death of someone precious to him. At that moment, he hadn’t replied your question.

But now, he knows the answer.

He wouldn’t. Not even if it cost him the entire world.

And yet you, nothing but a silly, weak fool who knew almost nothing about EVOLs and the workings of Black Swan, had decided to sacrifice yourself instead. He can’t bear to think about how afraid you must have felt those very seconds before death, and worse, he wasn’t there for you when you’d needed him the most.

“I’m sorry.” The words fall from his mouth before he can stop them, spilling out of his throat and made ugly with grief. Guilt claws at the inside of his chest, an unrestrained, rabid beast, shredding his lungs with white hot knives and rendering him unable to breathe. A single tear streaks down his cheek, a burning trail against his skin. “I’m so sorry.”

The phantom of you only smiles in response, eyes empty and devoid of warmth.

Dead people can’t forgive the living.

“I trusted you.” Your voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper, but he catches every single word. They lodge in his chest, more painful that any physical wound. “I trusted you and you betrayed me.”

I didn’t mean to, he wants to scream, but the words won’t leave his mouth. I didn’t want to, I wanted to save you, no matter the cost. I was ready to throw everything away, if only-

“If you want to see me again, then die.” Your eyes are blank, indifferent. Perhaps that hurts more than the burning anger of your hatred would, because it reminds Lucien that this isn’t really you. “Die and join me in hell. It’s the least you deserve, Ares.”

With every word you say, it gets harder to breathe. Lucien feels like he’s suffocating, gasping for breath. But even worse is when you get to your feet, still with that chillingly emotionless smile on your face, turning around to leave. “Stop calling me back to you when I’m already dead. I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

No. Don’t go.

“Please, don’t leave.” Lucien gasps breathlessly, stumbling out of the bed. He doesn’t feel the pain of the glass shards digging into the soles of his feet, only the hot blood that spills out from punctured skin. His fingers grasp your wrist, trying to stop you from departing.

You can’t go. Not now. Not ever.

You turn around slowly to meet his eyes, and Lucien’s heart plummets into the pit of his stomach.

Blood spills from the side of your mouth, eyes empty and glazed over. Your blood, black in his sight, falls onto above your heart in a chilling visual - the very place where you’d been stabbed. The stain spreads before his very eyes, a black, twisting butterfly undergoing metamorphosis, the colour of your dress turning midnight within seconds until the last hints of white vanishes from his sight.

His heart stops in his chest. It is the Black Queen smiles back at him now, eyes alight with maniacal delight. Her laughter is high and cold.

“This is what you wanted all along, wasn’t it, Ares? The evolution of mankind you wanted so much... isn’t that your greatest desire?”

“No!” Lucien shouts, voice cracking, releasing her hand as if burned. This isn’t what he wants. But it’s too late now, and she smiles back at him with bloodied lips. She wears your face, but the cruelness in her eyes sets the two of you apart - the moon and the sun, night and day. “I never wanted her to die. Never!”

The Black Queen coos, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “I thought you of all people should know this, Ares. I’m disappointed. In your own words, sacrifice a few to save many, isn’t that right?” Her voice is tender, but the hands comes up to touch cup Lucien’s cheek are vicious, sharp nails digging into his skin. “You should be pleased by this.”

Lucien rips her hand from his face in fury, his fingers locking around her throat. Stop talking, stop speaking, just stop- Black blood drips down onto his wrist, leaving inky trails along his forearm. The Black Queen only laughs, tilting her head to the side as if regarding some interesting specimen before her.

“You won’t be able to do it.” Each word is poison sprouting in his chest. “I’m still her.”

Lucien’s breath comes out in a ragged cry, a choked scream ripping itself from his chest. His fingers tighten around her delicate neck, crushing her once and for all. “You can never be her. You will never be her.”

Her smile is triumphant. “And that’s why you will never see her again.”

Before his eyes, the Black Queen shatters into a million pieces, falling to the ground in a shower of black shards. The pieces of her scatter across the wooden floors, joining the rest of the broken glass on the ground, leaving nothing but the echo of her cruel laugh in his ears.

Yet, Lucien feels no joy nor satisfaction at the sight. Chest feeling just as vacant as before, he simply stumbles back to the bed, collapsing onto it and burying his face in his hands.

Raw screams tear from his throat, tears and blood mingling on his face and hands. His throat is raw with agony, and yet he can’t seem to stop - there’s so much pain in his chest that he feels like he’ll shatter if he tries to keep it in.

He doesn’t stop until he’s exhausted himself completely, physically and emotionally. In the end, dreamless sleep finally takes mercy on him and drags him under.

He wonders if he’ll remember any of this when he wakes up.

>>>

The sound of his apartment door unlocking rouses Lucien from his slumber.

An intruder, he thinks dazedly, but can’t really bring himself to care. He lies still, unmoving on the bed, thoughts drifting back to the Black Queen that had appeared in his dreams.

You will never see her again.

A fear, so intense, creeps through him like ice cold water trickling through his veins. What if he won’t even be able to see you, even in his dreams? Frantic, he bolts upright, desperately scrambling for the syringe he’d left on the sweat soaked mattress - and stills.

There’s someone standing in the doorway. His breath catches in the back of his throat when he realises who it is.

It’s you.

The moonlight washes over your form, bathing you in an almost ethereal glow. Lucien doesn’t dare to breathe, or even blink, afraid that your mirage will disappear with even the slightest of disturbance. Your eyes are wide with shock, mouth slightly parted as you look at him - that’s a new expression he’s never seen before in his dreams.

He must not have woken up from the previous hallucination, his internal subconscious reasons. It must have been the increased dosage, his exhaustion, something. His hands tremble, clenching into fists at his sides. Your name leaves his lips in a hushed whisper.

“You’re here. You’re not gone.” His voice is hoarse, throat burning.

At his words, you finally move, taking a tentative step forward. Your usual dress is streaked with dirt, slightly frayed at the edges. “Yes... I used the spare key to get in, I hope you don’t mind. I know we parted on bad terms but... I just thought I should see you.”

You’re a figment of his imagination, and yet you’re apologizing for entering his house without telling him? His mind is really getting better at constructing nightmares in the form of your likeness to torture him with, he laughs deprecatingly. It’s a bittersweet feeling.

Just a few steps, but forever out of reach.

“You look terrible.” You observe aloud, taking a step closer. Your pink lips are pressed together in concern, and he wants to run his finger over them, feel their softness, but he knows he’ll only find emptiness. “Lucien... are you alright?”

At your words, Lucien can’t help the chuckle that starts deep in his chest, before it rising to his throat and spills out of his mouth. His laughter shakes his chest, before it dissolves into painful coughs. “Lucien!”

“I’m not alright.” He answers honestly, when the hacking dies down. His eyes burn with it, and your own widen at the sight of it, as if it’s your first time witnessing him break down in front of you. “I haven’t been since the day you died.”

He hears your breath hitch in your throat, the shiny sheen of your own eyes filling with tears. So much like you, his chest tightens painfully at the thought. “I thought... I thought you only cared about me because of the Queen gene. Because of Black Swan.”

The naked hurt in your eyes seizes him by the throat, and instantly he’s desperate to deny this. He needs to make sure the ghost of you knows what he couldn’t tell you when you were still alive. “Never. I loved you, I still love you. I-” Pain spikes through his throat, still raw from screaming and he gasps a ragged breath, hand instinctively raising to his neck.

“Lucien, please stop talking, I’ll-” Your hurry to him, concern written all over your face before you come to a halt, expression a mixture of horror and shock as you glance down at the myriad of shattered glass at your feet. “What’s all this doing on the floor?”

Now that Lucien looks down, he can see the floor stained with red, the same colour tracked over the mattress. You must see it as well, because your lips part on a gasp, brows furrowing as you make the connection. “You’re hurt!”

A fitting punishment for what I did to you, he thinks. But then, instead of mocking him for his pain or reminding him of how he’d betrayed you, you swipe the tears from your eyes fiercely, a soft sniff escaping you. “Wait here, I’ll get a broom and sweep this up-”

You’re going to leave.

“Don’t go!” The shout escapes him in a desperate cry, and you flinch at the sheer volume of his words. Seeing the hesitation on your face, he makes to rise from the bed, to stand closer to you, but you hold a hand up, looking visibly distressed and worried.

“Don’t move another inch! There’s glass all over the floor and you’re hurt.” Your voice is laced with near tangible pain, as if his afflictions are your own. “What happened? Why are there pill bottles all over the floor?” Bending down, you touch a label on the shattered remains of a glass bottle, little white pills spilled across the wooden floorboards. “Hallu... hallucinogens!?”

He doesn’t flinch at the accusing tone in your voice, leaning back against the wall, limbs suddenly leaden, exhausted. His eyes remain fixed on you, unwilling to tear themselves away even for a second. “Please... stay.” His voice breaks at the end, hoarse with emotion. “I don’t know when it’ll wear off, so please... just stay a little longer.”

The shock on your face melts into realization, before it turns into something resembling fury. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so angry before, tears glistening at the corners of your eyes. “You mean, you’ve been taking hallucinogens this entire time to see me again? From the time I’ve been dead, all the way until now?”

“I couldn’t bear not seeing you again.” Lucien breathes, a shaky exhale escaping his mouth. The corners of his lips lift in a sad, self deprecating smile. “I’m sorry I’m unable to let you rest in peace because of my own selfish desires.”

If you want to see me again, then die. Join me in hell, Ares.

A long moment of silence stretches between the two of you, filled by nothing but moonlight and shadows. Lucien shivers, cold sweat still beading on the back of his neck and wonders for a second if he’s trembling so feverishly from the increased dosage. Perhaps he really might join you in death soon. The thought doesn’t sound so bad to him.

“Do you really still think I’m a hallucination?”

His head snaps up to stare at you in shock, an emotion that he doesn’t quite dare to name nearly sprouting in his chest. Your eyes are fierce with emotion as you stare back at him, and he almost, almost, lets himself hope that the impossible could have happened somehow, that you’re alive-

And yet he knows, deep in his chest, that you aren’t. The worst nightmares don’t begin by taking you from him, they lull him into a false sense of security and make him hope that it all could have been a bad dream - until the world collapses and burns into nothing but fire and ash. “You’re going to disappear the moment I close my eyes, just like every other time. So please, don’t-”

Your gaze is unwavering, a determined hand extended to him. “Touch me. Touch me and see if I’m real or not.”

Black blood and a cruel laugh flash in the back of his mind. The sight of your face shattering into glass replays over and over, your neck crumbling in his grip, the light dying out in your eyes.

You’ll never see her again.

“Don’t.” His voice is more like a moan of a wounded animal, a pathetic, begging thing. He buries his face in his hands, unable to look you in the eye. “I can’t want to watch you fall apart again.”

“I won’t.” Your promise hangs in the air between the two of you. There’s no lie in your voice. “I promise, Lucien. I’m real, I’m fine, I’m alive. Touch me.”

He doesn’t want to. He’s scared.

“Damn it, Lucien-” There’s the sound of glass crunching under feet, and then his mattress dips under an additional weight. Before he can fully comprehend what this means, a pair of arms suddenly wrap around him, pulling him into the embrace of a small, soft body.

Lucien can’t remember how to breathe. It’s like time has ceased to flow, and nothing is real except for the warmth that emanates from the body pressed to his. A choked sob struggles in his throat, trying to wrench its way free, trapped in place by disbelief.

“I’m real.” You repeat, fingers lacing with his tightly. He grips them hard, recalling the shape and feel of them in his - they fit together perfectly, key in lock, just like he remembers. “You’re real.” He says, in a daze.

“Mmmhmm. Your other hand reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes, and he finds his eyes tracing your features hungrily, desperate to commit every part of you to memory. “You’re really terrible at taking care of yourself when I’m not there, you silly man.”

That’s when he knows it’s really you.

He opens his mouth to laugh, to speak, to say something - it leaves him in the form of a choked sob. More and more start to spill from his mouth, inconsolable. He’s shaking from the force of them, fingers clinging to the fabric of your dress. There’s so much he wants to tell you, but he can’t find the words.

I’m sorry, he wants to say. Over and over again, until you can forgive him. Nothing is more precious than this tiny body in his arms.

“I wanted you to come back and tell me off.” Lucien finally croaks, voice a broken whisper, still staring. He can’t tear his eyes away, too afraid to even blink. Your smile is sad, hurting for him as you kiss the tears from his eyelashes - so tender that his heart feels like it’s ripping itself in half. “I... I-”

Suddenly, pain spikes through his head and he groans, slumping against your body. His body is breaking out in feverish chills, temperature running dangerously hot. “Lucien! What’s wrong?”

“O-overdose...” He manages, gritting his teeth against the agony - his vision swims before his eyes and it takes all his effort not to pass out on the spot. “It’s just too much in my body, that’s all. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Stupid scientist, what’s the use of that brain if you can’t even take care of yourself-” You mutter under your breath, hushed with anxiety as your hands grip his shoulders to support his weight. “Lie down, get some rest. I’ll go get you some water and a towel.”

“No!” Lucien clutches you to him the second he hears those words - he’s terrified that you’ll vanish like a good dream the second he wakes up. “Don’t go, please-”

It’s pathetic to beg like this, stripped of any sense of pride and self dignity, heart bared in an ugly, gaping hole in his chest - and he doesn’t care.

Your face paints over with pained tenderness before you finally nod, wrapping your arms around him once more and tucking his face into the crook of your neck. There, he can feel the flutter of your pulse against his lips - strong and steady, a sure sign of life.

“You’re alive.” Lucien repeats again, just to make sure. Your fingers tangle in his hair, stroking over his back. He shudders at your touch and buries his face tighter against your neck.

“Alive.” You confirm. Your breath is warm against the shell of his ear. “Go to sleep, now.”

Finally, he allows exhaustion to take him, eyes slipping shut as darkness replaces his vision. The last thing he’s aware of is the warmth that envelopes him, too acute to be false, too good to be real.

Your promise echoes in the last vestiges of his consciousness.

I’ll be here when you wake up.

[movedto-erodasghosts]

the moment | timothée chalamet

moved blogs - @erodasghosts

practically a spinoff thing for perfidy by @peeterparkr and reading perfidy would help make this better. To read as a stand alone fic, just picture “Tom” as someone y/n used to like but he hurt her.

Description: where we get to see a little bit of y/n’s relationship with timmy

Word count: ~4,600

Warnings: none

A/N: the rain part is heavily inspired by chapter 8 of perfidy where y/n describes when she knew she loved timmy. Also heavily inspired by Nancy’s moodboard of dates with Timmy. I loved writing this so much, I hope you enjoy!

masterlist

---

“Okay, okay,” you rested your hands on the table, “tell the story again?”

Timmy let out a soft chuckle, “Really? Didn’t you save the video?”

“I just… need to hear you say it in person.” You smiled widely, “It’s too cute.”

He couldn’t help but smile with you. Something told him you just wanted to hear the story again just to tease him, no harm to come of it though. He couldn’t blame you, he had even teased himself about it and found it rather silly.

“Alright,” he sighed dramatically. “So, I found this toad the other day, right? And it was missing a leg. So… I watched it for a bit before going back inside and going to bed.”

Timmy was a dramatic story teller, it was rather entertaining. The theatrics of it didn’t always come from the words he used to describe stories but the amount of time he spent telling it. To end it short would only leave people with questions. To draw it out longer would give people more to consider. He made stories last regardless, giving people opportunities for questions and any random thoughts. It seemed to be a way of letting everyone feel more involved so it wasn’t so one sided. He didn’t like to focus on himself too much, he was much too interested in everyone else.

“Oh, that’s it?” You raised a brow, “ It didn’t happen to be two in the morning? And you didn’t happen to cry because the toad was missing a leg?”

“Well,” Timmy pursed his lips as if to consider your words, “now that you mention it… I might’ve been a little tired when I found it, and possibly a small bit upset when I found it was missing a leg.”

“Small bit? Tim, you cried.” You brushed some hair behind your ear, “Like, actually cried. I saved the video!”

Quickly, you pulled out your phone to watch the video of a teary eyed Timotheé. Everything about the video was chaotic, it only made the story better.

“Okay, I— this is so bright— I just found this toad,” he held it to the camera, “I was like, ‘Oh! Neat! A little toad!’ But then, then I picked it up and…” He nearly choked on his words, the camera moving sloppily and never focusing on just one thing. “It only has three legs! Y/n, y/n it only has three legs. Are you seeing this?” He held it to the camera again, “Imagine how much harder traveling must be for him. The poor thing.”

“Do we have to finish watching this?” Timmy was grinning boyishly, “I mean, you’ve already seen it and I lived it.”

You gently hushed him before looking back to your phone screen, “Shh, shh, it’s getting to the best part.”

He gave a melodramatic frown to the toad before looking at the camera again, “I just, hmph… I had to show him to you, I love him so much. Okay, say goodbye to him, wish him the best.” He stroked it with his thumb, showing the camera one last time before setting it down and waving goodbye. “I know you’ll live a good life. I’ll miss you, visit anytime.” The camera turned back to Timmy who now had tears swelling, “Can you believe it? Such a darling boy… I hope he gets to be happy.” With a sniffle, he dried his eyes. “Okay, that’s all… you just had to see him. I’m sorry, it’s late and I’m crying…” he laughed and shook his head. “I hope he lives a happy life… well, goodnight… or morning?”

The video ended with Timmy lazily struggling to stop the recording, his eyes red and his hair a complete mess. You couldn’t help but hold the biggest smile and he did his best to hide behind his curls. His fingers curled into his palm, resting his hand on his chin and elbow on the table. Part of him was slightly embarrassed, only because the video was played in public. He couldn’t care less about the fact that you saw him practically breaking down over a toad, he only cared that strangers heard him breaking down over a toad.

“I think…” you began, “Well, you know how you asked me when I knew I loved you? I think that when I first saw that video… I just, I knew, you know?”

He held back a laugh, “Ah, that’s the moment, hmm?”

“Yes! Absolutely, one thousand times yes! It was just mind blowing,” you exaggerated with your hands. “I had never seen you like that before and, honestly, it just really pushed me to my realization.”

“It’s fair, really. I mean, had you sent a similar video I have no doubts that it would be the moment I knew I loved you.” He took a sip of his tea, keeping his eyes on you.

Timmy was playing along with your game, it was back and forth teasing. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, when had you fallen in love with him? He had asked before but you seemed to avoid the question and he didn’t push. Maybe you hadn’t yet, and that was okay. It did make him worry no matter how much he reminded himself it wasn’t like you would fall in love in the exact same moment as if your lives were a book. But still, at times his mind would wander.

“When was it?” He licked his lips and placed his cup back down.

“Hmm?” You fiddled with your pastry, avoiding eye contact.

He rephrased, “When was it you actually fell in love with me?”

Crumbs fell to your plate, it gave you something else to look at rather than him. He never intended to make you nervous, so he soon regretted ever asking. The thing was, there didn’t seem to be a defining moment yet. There were so many things about Timmy that made you stop and think about how amazing of a person he is. From his gentle words to his grand gestures. You could say that to him, but it didn’t sound real. If you were going to answer him you wanted it to be something more concrete.

Part of him craved an answer. He wanted you to take your time, for your relationship to take its time too. And Timmy wasn’t someone that needed constant validation but he couldn’t help himself at times. He knew you cared for him, that’s what mattered most. Really, he wasn’t sure why he was so insistent about knowing. Well, maybe…

He tried his hardest not to be the jealous type, and normally he wasn’t. He trusted you and the two of you were always able to openly talk about things, but… something about your relationship with Tom made him second guess himself. He couldn’t even figure out why, other than it was painfully obvious that Tom liked you and you couldn’t even see it. The issue was, Timmy knew that the “enemies” thing was an act, even if it was just one sided. He knew that you didn’t like Tom, at least not anymore, but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if you did.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted his own thoughts. “You don’t have to answer that.”

You awkwardly kept your eyes on the crumbs now scattered around your plate. If only he knew, and if only you could tell him.

“If you keep doing that you’ll hardly have any left.” He smoothly took the pastry from your hands and bit into it. “Hmm, it’s delicious.”

Letting out a small laugh you straighten your posture, “You’ve got a little filling on you.”

“Oh?” He sat it back on your plate, “Could you get it for me?”

You nodded, sitting on the edge of your chair to get closer. Slowly, you reached across and lightly wiped the filling off with your thumb. Timmy’s smile never seemed to fade away. He was always so warm and gentle, even in the toad video from two in the morning. It was like with him any moment could be put on pause to just sit back and admire it for what it was. With him it was like you could breathe. Like, even if it was temporary, the air around him wasn’t so stuffy and thick, but it was clear.

Your hand seemed to linger, not that he minded. He simply took your hand in his own, pressing a kiss to your palm before resting both of your hands on the table. His thumb faintly skimmed over your knuckles as he watched the wheels turning your head.

He tilted his head slightly, “Something on your mind?”

“I always have something on my mind, you know.” You timidly pulled your hand away to put your phone back in your bag, “We should probably get going so we can beat the rain.”

Tim cleared his throat and began gathering his things. “I wouldn’t mind getting stuck in it, sometimes the rain is nice to just step into.”

His words brought another tender smile to your face. Most people would be canceling the day’s plans because of a chance of rain later that evening, Timmy just pushed through and even hoped the rain may come earlier than planned. You liked the rain too and didn’t mind going out in it from time to time, it was relaxing in ways.

“I’d rather be home when it starts, I think.” You held his hand as you both started your way home.

He nodded, “I can understand that. But, would it be so bad if it started before then? It would be like a movie scene.”

The thought made you grin, he was right. One of the biggest clichés in the book and you nearly forgot. Part of you longed for a movie moment like that, you had them all the time with Timmy though. It was nice, you wouldn’t lie. At the same time, a huge part of you just wanted to smoothly make it home, no movie moment.

“I guess that part of it would be sweet. Almost like a frozen moment in time.” You moved closer to him, “I’d take any chance to be frozen in time with you.”

His lips curled into a smile at your cheesy words before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Maybe we’ll get the chance again.”

“Hmm, I wish. I’m not exactly dressed for a downpour though, especially not with my camera out,” you held it up.

Timmy took a quick glance, you were right. Your sneakers would be soaked within moments and your jacket wouldn’t keep you warm for long. Timmy wasn’t dressed much better though, having on sneakers as well, and jeans that would easily stick to him when wet. He could stand it though, it wasn’t a bother, and he would gladly help to keep you warm with his own body heat.

He recalled that you loved walks in the rain, no matter how soaking wet you may get. But lately something was off, he could tell. He kept brushing it off, chalking it up to overthinking. Of course you didn’t want to get caught in the rain that day, it would be freezing and your camera could get ruined. Normally, though, you still wouldn’t mind. It was like you were running from something.

“We can put the camera in your purse, it should help keep it dry. As for the rest, well,” he let your hand go before wrapping an arm around your waist, “I’ll help keep you warm as we make our way home.”

You chuckled, leaning into his side. “In that case, I look forward to the rain,” you half joked.

“See?” He smiled, “Simple solutions. I’m glad to be of assistance.”

Once again, he let go of you to give a dramatic bow. You laughed, watching as his hair fell in front of his face. He even tucked one foot behind the other, adding to the drama of it. He did what he could to make the relationship feel the same, to help you find the beauty in small moments like that again rather than pain.

“Ah, thank you for your kindness,” you gently bowed back towards him.

“Of course, of course. Anytime, you know.” He took your hand in his, gently swinging it as you continued the walk.

You walked in silence for a few moments, just taking in the busy sounds from around you. There were fewer people out that day, due to the expected rain, which gave plenty of new picture opportunities. You loved pictures full of life, whether it was crowds of people or a field of flowers. But, you loved pictures that seemed empty, or even more serene in a way, too. Overall, you just enjoyed taking pictures of life. From the most crazy and crowded moments to the most calm and seemingly boring moments.

“Let’s get a picture here really quick?” You stopped at a shop window, gently tugging Timmy’s sleeve to get his attention.

He stepped back and stood beside you, “Of course, it’s a nice opportunity.”

You held the camera up, ready for the picture. Timmy put one hand in his pocket, the other rested on the small of your back. He placed a kiss on the top of your head, freezing there for a moment as you took the picture. Instinctively his eyes shut too, allowing him to easily slip into his thoughts for a moment.

He loved that you took pictures of moments like this, he knew it meant a lot to you. To be able to hold a memory in such a way was incredible and it helped to better remember. It wasn’t just a picture, it was a memory. Even if it was only a memory of going for tea that morning, it was a memory. One he knew that you’d both find yourselves dwelling on.

You both seemed to find such pleasure in the smallest of things. The rain, tea, toads, anything. Unlike Tom, who seemed to have to make everything into some huge attention grabber for it to be even slightly memorable. Timmy couldn’t stand that, it was like it was a show for everyone else. Timmy didn’t need to prove to anyone that he loved you with grand schemes, what mattered to him was the little things that you shared between the two of you.

“Alright, got it,” you smiled.

His eyes opened back up, snapping himself out of his mind. “You’ve gotten a lot of good pictures today.”

“With most of them having you as the subject, I’d agree,” you grinned up at him.

“It’s your talent with photography that makes them so good,” he chuckled.

“Maybe, but you definitely add to it’s perfection.” You kissed his cheek, “Even if I know you cried about a frog at two in the morning.”

“A toad,” he corrected. “And what kind of monster wouldn’t cry about a toad at two in the morning?”

“It’s just a toad,” you began walking again with a small smile on your lips.

“Just a toad?” He joined your side again, “I don’t think so! He was special, not just like any other toad.”

You teased, “You’re actually defending a toad?”

“Maybe I am. You were attacking him.” He played along, lightly nudging your shoulder.

Your hands went into the air in a mock defense, “My greatest apologies for attacking him. I hope I didn’t offend too greatly?”

“Hmm,” he raised a brow and stroked his chin as if he was deeply thinking. “No, nothing you can’t make up for.”

“Make up for? In what way?” You were already grinning as you looked up at him.

His arm made its way back around your waist, his fingers landing on your hip. Your pace slowed a bit, only slightly, as you synced your steps.

“Dance with me when it rains,” he said simply. “It would make up for it a thousand times over.”

You chuckled, “I’d dance with you anytime, Tim.”

He inhaled, holding his breath for a moment before saying, “I know, but I’ll take every chance I get.”

“I would too, plus it’s a simple enough way to pay you back for the frog insult.”

“Toad.”

“Right,” you laughed, “toad.”

He hoped it would rain. Before he simply looked forward to the rain because he was expecting it anyway, now he was waiting for the rain as if he relied on it. He needed the chance to be with you closer, longer. He needed a reason for the day to be memorable for more than just tea. Timmy knew you’d adore that day for the rest of time, even if it ended in this very moment, but it was like he needed to be sure of it.

Lord, he was becoming Tom. Couldn’t the day be lovable enough as it was? It already was. There wasn’t a moment through the day with you where he didn’t seem to have butterflies in his stomach, other than moments like this where he couldn't help but think of Tom.

No. No more Tom. Timmy was still far from Tom. His gestures, like wanting to dance in the rain, was for just the two of you, not anyone else. Tom needed everyone else’s approval, Timmy was only focused about the happiness between the two of you.

“Guess you should get ready to dance,” you spoke up, quickly tucking your camera into your purse.

Timmy glanced at your movements before looking up to the sky, seeing how dark it had suddenly gotten. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw the rain approaching.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he held both of your hands and pulled you to a wider section of sidewalk.

He wasted no time, beginning to dance with you the moment a raindrop fell. You wouldn’t deny it, even though you were previously dreading the coming rain you were happy it was there now. You had forgotten how much you missed it. You missed that moment in time where it was truly like nothing else mattered. It was just you and Timmy, frozen in your own movie moment.

It was clear that the wheels in his head were finally taking a pause, he too was just enjoying that moment. Normally, Timmy wasn’t one to get lost in his thoughts so frequently. He spoke openly, sharing his thoughts so he could talk through them with someone. You understood, even admired it, but there was a part of you that wanted to hold certain things to yourself. There were some things you wanted to process on your own before even thinking about sharing with anyone else, and there were other things that you just wanted to ignore forever. Timmy knew this and he never wanted to make you feel pressured to talk but he just couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to share, to just talk through your pain and memories. But, he respected it.

You wanted to share, truly, but you weren’t even sure where to begin, and, you didn’t even know if you actually could bring yourself to talk. Timmy swore that there were things between you and Tom that were unsettled that you needed to talk about, and maybe he was right, but you couldn’t see it. You felt like you were stuck in a spot that had no way out. It felt like you had no words to share, and, while no one was trying to make you feel that way, you felt pressured to talk. It felt like Timmy deserved more. Like he should have an explanation, like he should get to know his moment, the one where you knew you loved him.

You had no answers to offer anyone though, not even yourself. You didn’t know why people were expecting you to explain so much. Why did people need you to explain why you never liked Tom? Why it didn’t matter if Tom ever liked you or still did-- though you would assure people he didn’t-- because you were over him. Or were you even over that?

Tom was cruel. He was careless, inconsiderate. And, sure, you had a crush on him for a while, but that’s all it was. That’s all it could be. He hurt you, how could you possibly still like him? And, you loved Timmy so none of that even mattered anymore.

Timmy.

You knew you loved him, with or without that defining moment. Maybe this could be it. The rain, his fingers intertwined with yours as you danced and laughed. No, this wasn’t it. It couldn’t be, not when you had let your mind wander so far. So much for staying frozen in the moment.

Still, you danced with him and acted as if you were still focused on only that. His mind may have stopped for a break but it seemed yours had just kept going. He noticed, you were like an open book at times with him. But, you were both deciding to push it aside.

“When was the last time we even got to do this?” You laughed as he dramatically spun you.

He smiled, “Too long, I guess we’ve just been waiting for the rain.”

“I’m glad it’s finally here, even if I’m freezing cold.” You waddled closer to him, wrapping your arms around him and continuing to sway inplace together.

“Hmm,” he rested his chin atop your head and curled his arms around you, “I did say I’d keep you warm.”

You closed your eyes, resting a cheek on his chest and breathing in. The metallic and earthy smell of him brought an instant peace. You could feel and hear his heart beating slowly, calmly. Heat was somehow radiating off of him still, even through his cold and wet clothing. It was nice, just his presence and being was calming and felt nice to be around. It was now that you were really being pulled into the movie moment, your mind now filled with nothing but thoughts of how being around Timmy was like going out after a storm.

It was like walking out, feeling the sun hit your skin as it was slowly beginning to warm everything up again after a downpour. Like inhaling that musty yet sweet smell of the ground as it was soaking up the rain, reclaiming it after it’s fall and working with it to help return to earth. The smell wasn’t just coming from the rain either, it was just how Timmy was, and you couldn’t get enough of it. It was the serenity after the storm that people so rarely talk about.

“Can’t we stay this way forever?” His words were muffled, mixing with the sounds of raindrops seemingly falling harder.

You were still slightly swaying together, earning looks from those rushing by you in a hurry to escape the rain. Neither of you could be bothered by it though, you were in your own world. Admittedly, it probably wasn’t such a good idea to be staying out in the cold rain. The two of you couldn’t care less in the moment, though you’d probably regret it later, because it was like you had only been standing there for a minute, but at the same time it was as if it had been an hour even if it was only about ten minutes.

The rain was coming down harder and harder, preventing you from being able to stay out much longer.

“I think it’s time to stop dancing,” you smiled, looking around for any form of shelter you could find. “Look, that shop has a shade we can use.”

Without hesitation you ran off, ready to get out of the downpour. You hadn’t noticed at first but he hadn’t followed, only a few steps away from where you were both standing just a second before. He was slowly making his way over, not seeming too focused on actually making it though.

“Timmy,” you called out, “what’re you doing? C’mon, it’s too heavy.”

And then you heard, music playing from someone’s balcony. It was gentle and steady, sounding almost like a recording but it was clear that it wasn’t. Timmy’s eyes were locked onto that balcony, right above the shop you were using for coverage. His shoulders were relaxed, his head slightly tilted as he listened. He was too focused on the music to care about how hard the rain was or how cool the air was turning. You were focused on watching him, slightly taken aback by his actions.

“Come see,” he beamed, “it’s so peaceful.”

You were grinning, watching as he smiled ear to ear, being so happy watching them. His gaze went back to them, eyes twinkling in the light shining from their apartment. His curls were dripping, messily scattered about and some sticking to his face. He looked like he was in a state of tranquility, completely free of all the worries he had been dealing with. It was soothing enough on its own just to see him so, it was like he was able to share with you how it made him feel simply through one look.

Taking your camera out, you took a picture of him as he looked up to the balcony, wanting to keep that moment with you forever because that was it. A few weeks ago when Timmy had asked you when you fell in love with him you gave some silly response, too anxious to think about it. He brought it up again earlier that day, and you still couldn’t give an answer. Now the answer was standing right infront of you, finally it was something worthy of sharing, not just something random and laughable.

You put the camera back in your back, quickly joining his side. “It sounds beautiful.”

“Doesn’t it?” He leaned into your shoulder, “The rain just adds to it all.”

“It does,” you agreed, wrapping around his arm. “But, we should go before we get sick.”

Timmy laughed as he slowly pulled himself out of his trance, “That sounds like a good idea.”

With looped arms you began your walk home once more, feeling somewhat more lifted by what had happened. All it took was that one moment, that moment of proof and reassurance. You were reminded of what a kind and gentle person Timmy was, not that you had ever forgotten. He did his best to enjoy life for what it was, cherishing every moment he could no matter how small. You tried your best to do the same but found yourself slipping at times, it was a reminder to enjoy things more. To take that step back and make yourself the main character of a story, even if it was temporary. Timmy helped you to do that.

He loved to see you so relaxed again, free from your mind. You were both too wrapped up in too many what-ifs and were worrying about things that were out of your control. The rain was what you needed, to help pull you back to earth. It was that moment, where he was able to put life on pause and you were able to come back into that serenity.

The awkward tension from the cafe was gone, truly gone, not just shoved aside. Timmy wasn’t craving to know the exact moment you knew you loved him because all that mattered to him was that you did. You didn’t feel like you owe anyone an explanation for anything anymore, whatever you had with Tom was in the past now and you knew Timmy’s moment. It really wasn’t a permanent solution, these feelings, at least the untouched one’s about Tom, would likely arise again. But, at least for that moment, you could go without confronting them.

[19tozier]

something human (richie tozier)

warnings: fluffy n sweet, 2019!richie x reader, assume this takes place before any events of chapter 2

based on the song something human by muse

[losers&reader are adults in this]

richie plasters a smile on his face, as wide as he absolutely can. the crowd is cheering for him, applauding and hooting and yelling, and it’s a sight that will never fail to make him feel warm. he’s worked his entire life for this, and it always feels good to have it pay off.

for now though, he’s drained, and all he can think about is the call he always looks forward to making when he gets backstage.

as soon as the curtains close, his smile drops, the bone-deep exhaustion making itself known. he goes through the motions of what’s expected of him: he drinks the water bottle thrown at him, he wipes his forehead on a towel he passes to some stagehand, and he only half-listens as his manager blabbers in his ear.

he manages to tune everyone and everything around him out until he’s safely in his dressing room, the door closed and no one to disturb him until he has to leave. it makes something in his chest loosen.

his phone is plugged in exactly where he left it, fully charged in anticipation for his routine. he picks it up and takes it off the charger, smiling at his lock screen.

it’s a picture of you and him from right before he’d left for this tour, sleepy and rumpled on the couch. you’re dressed in one of his sweaters, your cheek pressed into his neck as you smile for the camera. he’s pulling a goofy face, unable to keep serious even for a moment. it was one of the best nights he can remember in a long time.

the picture makes his heart feel three sizes too big, especially when he unlocks his phone to click on your contact. it only rings once before you answer it, breathless.

“hi, rich,” you murmur, your voice warm and bright and so deliriously happy to talk to him.

the tension in all of his muscles melts away at the sound of your voice, a tired but genuine smile creeping across his mouth. “hey there, angel,” he murmurs back, kicking his feet up onto the counter.

“how was your show?” you ask him, the same question you always ask, and you sound so soft and so sweet that richie almost has to scream.

he shakes his head even though you can’t see it. “same old, same old. got a lotta laughs tonight, you know how it is.” he pauses, thinking back to what he just performed. “the joke you wrote was the best part.”

you giggle, slightly breathless. “the one about your weird kink?”

he’s too warm at the sound of your voice to really take offense to your teasing of him, but he plays the part anyways. “yes, the one about my weird kink, asshole.” he rolls his eyes. “i still stand by the fact that just because i accidentally slipped into a voice one time does not mean i have a kink.”

you hum. he can hear the smile when you say, “sure, baby, whatever tickles your pickle.” you giggle to yourself.

he smirks. “well, darlin’, that would actually be you who—”

“richie!” you cut him off, laughing so hard you wheeze.

he can picture you in his mind: you’re probably curled up in the corner of the giant couch in the living room, some crime show paused on the tv. he knows you’re wearing one of his sweaters and some fuzzy socks, because the snapchat you sent him right before the show featured both. the phone is probably jammed against your ear and you’ve probably got a glass of wine sitting on the coffee table.

it sounds so cozy, and he knows it would be even cozier if he was there with you. all of a sudden, there’s a lump in his throat.

“i miss you so much, (y/n),” he rasps before he can stop himself. he usually tries not to break down like this, acutely aware that him being gone is already hard enough on you, but this time he can’t help it.

you’re silent for just a beat too long before you whisper, “i miss you too, rich.” the tears in your voice are painfully obvious. the mood from before has all but disappeared. “i miss you so much.”

richie swallows, trying to keep his composure. “only twenty more shows, doll. twenty-three more days, and then i’m right there with you.”

you sniffle and his heart breaks. “only three more weeks,” you repeat weakly. you sigh, the sound just barely loud enough for him to hear. “i hope they go by quickly.”

he sighs, letting his eyes fall shut. “me too, baby.”

he knows he doesn’t have long before he has to load onto the tour bus, and you’re probably just as exhausted as he is. it’s relatively late for you in LA and he feels bad keeping you up.

“i love you, angel,” he says, a bit desperately. he knows you know, the ring on your finger and the wedding on the horizon proof of that, but he’ll never get tired of telling you.

you make a soft sound, almost awed, and he’s lit up again by the reverent way you whisper, “i love you too, richie. i love you so much.”

he leans back, beginning to tell you some silly story of whatever happened that day. as he hears your giggles, he thinks, i really hope these next three weeks go by quickly.

***

it’s quiet in the apartment when richie lets himself in.

he’s certain it’s because you’re still asleep. it’s early in the morning after all, and you don’t know he’s home. as far as you’re concerned, his flight lands tonight. he didn’t tell you he’d managed to snag the last seat on a much earlier flight.

it’d been a hard tour, on both of you. this is the longest either of you have been apart, and his crazy schedule meant your phone calls after his shows were sometimes your only communication at all. it hurt to be away from you, but now he’s home, and he’s determined to stay at your side for as long as possible.

he smiles to himself, dropping his bags by the couch and gently placing his keys on the counter. he’ll deal with unpacking later, maybe after some kisses and a nap.

the bedroom door is slightly open when he gets to it, so it’s easy to push open without creating any noise. he quickly shuts it behind himself, not wanting the light from the windows in the hallway to wake you up and ruin his surprise.

he has to suppress his coo at how adorable you are, curled onto his side of the bed with your arms wrapped around his pillow. you’re only wearing one of his shirts and underwear, and it makes heat pool through richie’s veins. later, he tells himself.

quietly, he toes his shoes off and pulls off his jeans and jacket until he’s left only in a t-shirt and his boxers, much like you. only then does he let himself climb into bed beside you.

you don’t wake up immediately. you just scrunch your nose and murmur something unintelligible, rubbing your cheek against the pillow. it’s so adorable richie can’t help but reach out to cup your jaw, and that’s what finally wakes you up.

you blink your eyes open, disoriented, and you don’t really register that it’s richie in front of you for a couple of seconds. when you do, though, you gasp, quickly reaching out to pull him into your arms.

“what’re you doing home?” you breathe against his neck, holding him so tightly his ribs ache. he laughs into your skin. “i thought your flight wasn’t until later!”

he presses his lips to your forehead. “wanted to surprise ya, doll.”

his fingers won’t stop running up and down your back, and you’re so sleep-warm and soft that he feels his exhaustion begin to pull on him. you cuddle yourself even closer, leaning up to kiss him gently.

he hums against your mouth, fitting his hand to the back of your head to keep you there. it doesn’t lead anywhere, both of you too exhausted for much more, but it’s the thing he missed the most on tour. this simple intimacy with you, and the humanity of being in your arms. it’s more powerful than he will ever understand.

“i love you,” he mumbles into the kiss, tightening his hold around your waist. “i love you, i love you, i lo—“

“rich,” you laugh, pulling back to kiss his cheek. you gently take his glasses from his face and put them on the bedside table. the blurred smile on your face makes him more sleepy. “i know. i love you too.”

you snuggle back beneath his chin, your eyes already closing. he presses his mouth to your temple, holding it there as he, too, starts to drift off.

“i’m really glad you’re home,” you whisper into the quiet, your lips moving against his skin.

he smiles, pulling you closer. “me too, angel.”

[queenofwerewolves]

Future Hope

chapter one - Where it all began.

We all thought the new decade would be a new fresh start, a new beginning for humanity, we were all so excited for the the arrival of 2020... and it's unknown horrors that we awaited along with it.

it started with just jokes and memes, the virus wasnt affecting us, it didnt seem like a big deal. Then it reached Italy, then the United States. In a span of three months, the entire world changed and was affected by COVID-19. Then it happened.. the attack and sudden uprising of those who had privilege, but didnt know of it's power..

it started with the Black Lives Matter Protests, but it got worst, so unhumaningly worse. People around the country and the world tried to help and stop this evil, but it wasnt enough to stop them. The White Suprimacy.

Death, despair, anguish, loss for hope... What has the world come to?

Even after two years of the incident, in the year of 2022, the same horrors from before was still going on. No one could stop them, those who tried were imprisioned or now buried six feet under, people gave up, they lost hope... Until a new reason for that hope arrived.

It started as a friendship group. Eight people of different kinds, intetrests and hobbies brought together by a common interest, which soon grew into an unbreakable bond, sharing pictures or tagging one another with a funny meme attached to it, simple acts but filled with love.. Until this group almost lost a member.

A fight was happening while she was visiting a store, it was between a simple teen wearing a pride shirt and a middle aged man, bickering and arguing issued, but no one expected the man to pull out a gun and attempt to shoot the kid... Only to miss, and shoot the beloved group friend...

She was texting her friends while it happened, only for them to not hear anything for weeks... But she finally replied, after weeks in the hospital, recovering from the shot. One of the members couldnt have it anymore, and kindly asked for everyone to create a Discord account so they could all see how their wounded friend was doing. Everyone agreed, and surprised her with a call.

Maria was her name, and she couldnt be more delighted about the surprise..

"Yo! Yooo Bitch can you see us?!" Shouted one friend from their call

"For fuck's sake Spike the woman was shot and you have to call her a bitch?!" Rudely replied another friend, who's background was dark and gloomy and had far too many halloween decorations.

Maria laughed softly. "It's OK Spooks.. Wow.. I cant believe Im seeing you all.. Just wished it wasnt at the hospital through a videochat..." She said with a soft smile.

"It is truly a concerning situation we've been dragged into.. but it brings me joy to see you alive and well Maria" Said another friend, looking a little too-well dressed in the call

"Im guessing Griff begged you all to make a Discord huh..?" Maria said, looking at the video box of young man with a concerned yet and embarrassed look.

"Queen... We were so worried..." He answered, slightly choked up. "We thought you were a goner.. When you finally texted back I..I just had to see you..!"

Queen. A nickname she never thought someone would ever call her, hell it was a title that she didnt even deserve. Until she met Griff, which started to call her that, and her other friends jumped along, she always loved that nickname.. Made her feel special...

"Seeing you all together... All for me... It makes me want to cry.. But we dont have time for me getting emocional" Maria answered, suddenly stern

"Why is that Queen? Something going on?" Answered another friend, who was sucking on a lollipop during the call, such the sweet tooth she is.

Maria smiled. "No Muffin.. I simply have a proposal for you all.. And I hope you all are in with me...Because Im getting pretty sick of the way things are in this shit world.."

And so was born a new hope, a group of fighters that are indignified about the way things are, and how they almost took their friend away.

After healing completly at the hospital, they all met in person for the first time. Maria told them that they way they are now wont be enough to make a change to the world, but she knew how to fix that. After a small walk through the woods in the park, they came through a gated area, which Maria crawled under a broken spot of the gate and the others followed, doing the same.

"Long ago" Maria started speaking. "After I moved here, I decided to explore around this park for fun. That's when I found this abandoned gate and went through the same broken piece of wall of the gate we all came through, I believe that's here can help us become better then we already are."

Spike, chewing a piece of gum sneered at her comment. "Oh sure, what is it? A wishing well?"

"Well..." She answered as they came to a stop.

In front of them was a perfectly clean, almost sparkling fountain with clean crystal water still working and flowing out of an angel's vase. The fountain was too bright and shiny, it sure as hell didnt match the rest of the area's gloomy and dark visuals..

"It's a wishing fountain!" Maria spouted out, smiling wide. But the rest werent as.. cheery as she was.

"A fucking... wishing fountain?" Spike answered. "You expect me to believe that's a real wishing fountain? If that's true then why dont you wish for this shit world to become better?"

"I tried!" Maria answered "Apperently it doesnt make big wishes like that, it only makes wishes about yourself or something very small. Like wishing your room to be clean kind of small"

"I mean.. It kinda has that magic aesthetic, I mean, that thing is impeccably clean while the rest is covered in dirt?" Kip answered, glancing at the fountain.

"I know it sounds silly but it really works, I actually did my wish already!" Maria said smiling wide

"Bullshit" Spike answered "You aint a fucking Werewolf, what makes you think we believe you actually wished to be one?"

".. Cause I didnt wished to be a Werewolf..?" Maria answered, dumbfounded. "I always said that I LIKE Werewolves, but I never wanted to be one. I wished to be good at using a scythe and knife throwing, like exceptionally good ya know?" She said excitedly. "And before you answer, YES I do have a scythe, I bought one. Dont ask where."

"So... who goes first?" The smollest of the group, Rook, asked.

"I'll go" Said Griff, pulling out a coin before Maria stopped in this tracks. "This.. Doesnt accept coins" Maria said, seeming a bit worried.

"Then what?" Griff answered back, only to shocked when Maria answered "Blood".

Before Spike could throw a fit, Maria cut him. "Just a drop! Literally! I got a needle here with me, all you gotta do is prick your hand and let the drip fall after you make a wish."

"Let's just get on with it before Spike goes crazy again" Said Blink, the tallest of the group and the one to deal with Spike's bullcrap

Griff took Maria's needle and stood in front of the fountain...And said outloud his wish..

At first he whispered his wish, as if he didnt want anyone to hear it.

"Uh.. It has to be out loud or it wont work Griff." Maria said.

"I-I said.. I wish to be a strong, masculine and really beefy Wererabbit that's really manly and buffed up!!" he shouted with a tone of embarrassment in his voice.

"A Werebunny.. Griffy?" Said Maria in disbelief. "What?! It's co- ow!!" Without looking, he pricked his hand with the needle, and let the drop of blood fall into the fountain's water, mixing along with it. The fountain suddenly shined so brightly that everyone had to cover their eyes for a brief moment before it died out.

Then.. Silence.

"... So.. Now wh-AHCK!!!" Shouted Griff, hit with a sudden shot of pain throughout his body, which made him fall on his knees as everyone backed away from him. They watched in horror as not only he grew almost three times his size, but he got much fuzzier, his ears stretched into rabbit ears, his muscles swelled and bubbled as they grew bigger, his body shifted painfully into a hybrid between man and rabbit. When he finally finished, he just collapsed on the floor, panting exaustedly.

His friends were inicially shocked, until Maria snapped out of it and rushed to his side, placing a hand on his head. "Griffy? You OK..?"

He answered, in a much gruffer, deeper voice.. "Yeah.. Yeah Im good.."

"Jesus.. It worked.. Can you stand?" She asked. Griff nodded as he slowly got up and almost knocked his head on a tree branch from how tall he was now. Everyone was looking up at him, jaws dropped in shock and awe, until..

"HOLY SHIT YOU'RE NAKED!!!" Rook shouted as she covered her eyes, running in place "MY EYES!! THEY BURN!!!"

"We.. better finish these wishes quick and get you some pants." Maria added, Griff simply nodded as he covered himself embarrassed.

One by one they did their wishes. Becoming who they wanted to be to fufill their purpose with Maria.

Spike wished for strong arm strenght, fast stamina and an aluminum bat that never breaks, and can destroy almost anything. Blink asked for a sword, the ability to parkour and jump from building to building like some kind of vigilante. Kip asked to be part cat for the heck of it and that whatever she draws will become a reality. Muffin asked to be a fairy, to bring joy because she isnt a fighter. Togekiss asked for high I.Q, the ability to see simulations of possibilities in the future and telekenisis and teleportation. Spooks asked to be like an Underworld Goddess, with the power to summon shadows and have the darkness on her command, and finally, Rook asked to be part bird and a wizard with elemental nature, and musical spells,to honour her beloved Lammy, she also wished to have a split personality to be like her favorite character, ENA.

And so the team was ready, and soon they would make a change to the world, the revolution has begun, it was time to shine..

For a Future Hope.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Creatures in the dark Part 2

Pairing: witch!Steve x Reader

Warning: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, allusion to non-con.

Words: 2454.

Summary: A monster dressed in human flesh was waiting for you in the woods.

Part 1

____________

That night neither your grandfather nor you returned to your beds. Despite being afraid of revealing your secret, you told him everything: about the Plague and your encounter with the dead and the boy with a lantern who you thought came to save you. Your grandfather, and old, but tough man, had cried upon hearing your story, and you cried too. You didn't remember him dropping a single tear when his wife or grandson had died, but now his face was all wet.

Once the first ray of sun reached your house through the crack in a wooden shutter, the old man rushed to the witch living in a hut at the end of the village while you stayed home, putting more ash to the door. You didn't know whether the monster lurking in the woods could walk in the daylight, but you didn't want to risk it. Maybe he wasn't as powerful as the Plague if her mark prevented him from casting a spell on you, yet he was obviously strong enough to tear a human being apart.

You had no idea how much time you spent there all alone, praying in the corner, but your grandfather returned with both the witch and one of the elders, all of them with grim expression on their dirty faces.

"Not good, not good." The old woman whose grey hair were covered with a bleak blue scarf told you, spinning around you and shaking her head. "Not good at all."

"What's not good, granny Iva?" You asked, calling her the same way you did when you were a little girl. "What do you see?"

"The blessing of the Rotten One does no harm to you, dearest child, but she gave it to you for a reason. The boy you saw was no boy at all. His scent is all over you." Her quiet raspy voice sounded like a thunder to you.

"We'll wash it off!" Your grandfather exclaimed in despair. "I'll bring water and wood to the bathhouse-"

"Silly man, no water can help you wash it off her." The elder said in return, stepping closer and looking at your forehead suspiciously. "What's already done can't be reversed now. Besides, if the Plague herself had told you it's your fate to meet the monster in the woods, we mortals can do little about it."

"But he'll take me away. He will drag me out of the house and eat me alive!"

"No, my dear. That horned monster doesn't eat human flesh. He came to claim you." The old witch whispered, taking the red like blood beads out of her pocket. "To wed you, whether you come willingly or not."

Horrified with the revelation, you felt hot tears falling down your cheeks, and your grandfather quickly embraced you, dropping a kiss to your forehead. Looking at the two angrily, he shouted, "I'll better die than give her to that creature."

"Whether you want it or not, there's not much we can help her with." The witch bit her dry, chapped lips. "My magic has never been as strong as his even when I was young and powerful. But I keep wondering why Plague had given you a blessing, yet asked you not to run from the monster. Why? What is the meaning behind her words? What strength did she grant you with her mark?"

"H-he said I wouldn't rot now." You muttered, leaning closer to the old man. "Nothing else. What other strength could it give me?"

The woman motioned to the elder, and he returned to the door, opening it a little. Before your grandfather had snapped at him furiously, the witch pointed at something on the floor. As you looked there, you saw nothing suspicious and furrowed your brows. What was there so special? As you turned your head to the woman to ask her, your grandfather suddenly gasped.

"Look! Your shadow!"

Carefully observing it again, you realized yours was much longer than shadows of others, though you were all standing close, and it couldn't possibly be the play of light. You gulped down and bit your tongue painfully. What was that all about? What was this power, if there was any at all?

You slowly moved your arm, and the shadow moved its own, following your command as it always did. Except for its length, there was nothing particularly strange.

"Ask it to move by itself."

"What do you mean? How do I ask for it?"

"Just make a wish, it's simple."

Your grandfather was pretty much terrified with witch's words, and for a moment you thought you had never seen him like that in your entire life. The elder, however, didn't look suprised even the slightest bit, and the old woman was almost eager to see what would happened next.

Chewing your lips to bits, you closed your eyes, scared and confused. The next moment you heard one more gasp, knowing that your shadow did exactly what you demanded it to - detach itself from you and move to the wall behind the witch. Dear God, she was right. The blessing gave you something you shouldn't have.

"I don't understand anything at all!" You exclaimed loudly, tearing yourself away from your grandfather and moving back, covering your face with your palms. "Why didn't she tell me about it? And why give me power if I can't escape the monster, anyway?"

"If you can't run... it doesn't mean you can't fight." The wise woman muttered under her breath, but all of you heard her, and you chocked on air. Fight? Fight this deadly creature wandering in the woods?

You asked the shadow to move to the other wall, and it did it again. Dear God, maybe the witch was right.

"Teach her!" You heard your grandfather's desperate voice and saw him gripping the witch's wrinkly arm. "Take whatever I have, but-"

The elder rolled his eyes at this outburst, shaking his head with irritation. "Are you out of your mind, old fool? We will do anything we can. I have not become the elder to watch young girls being snatched away by monsters."

"And now shut up, you two. We don't have much time before the boy comes back. Bring me the bread, the blackberry, and a few candles, now."

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It had been two long days before the witch sensed your monster was coming back. You barely slept, spending all your time listening and doing what granny Iva had told you, watching the miracles you could now do all by yourself. She was right, the Plague did grant you power, and though you barely knew what to do with it, even the possibility to fight the creature brought you so much joy.

The woman called him the witch boy. You found it odd: was he the son of some other witch living in the forest? Laughing at you, the elder pointed out the clear difference: granny Iva was a woman who learnt witchcraft, but the boy was the one who was born with magic coursing through his veins, able to see the ghosts and cast spells most humans couldn't. He was only half mortal, and he was probably born to an evil spirit and a human woman. Judging by the huge antlers growing from his head, he was most likely the son of Yeev, the evil deer living in the Northern forests. People used to make human sacrifices to him, bringing him women he apparently mated with. Granny Iva had never heard of him having any children, but maybe one of those poor sacrificial brides was able to bear Yeev a son.

You wouldn't be able to defeate the boy right away, you realized. Although the Plague had granted you power, it would take time to learn how to use it, and the monster would hardly wait for it. You would have to go with him and figure out how to defeat him all by yourself. However, your magic would be enough to keep him from harming you, and it was already something.

That night granny Iva had given your grandfather a sleeping potion secretly. He didn't know that you would still have to leave with the monster, and you couldn't bare watching the old man struggle against it. It was better to put him to sleep.

When the monster opened the door, you had already been prepared to leave and turned to face him, suddely seeing not the skinny boy, but a huge bearded man who barely fit into the door frame. The ash near the door burnt out the very same moment he stepped inside, blue sparks flying the air.

"Were you waiting for me?" He smiled, walking into the house, his body muscular and strong as if he were a blacksmith.

You gawked at him, unsure whether he was the monster you were waiting for. Where was that little boy with a lantern, unhealthy pale and terribly thin?

"Don't look so surprised, little one. I took this form because I thought you'd like it better." Crossing the room, he barely looked at the elderly man, snoring lightly in the corner, and moved closer to you as you backed away from him involuntarily. "Don't be so cold, love. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You pressed your lips into a thin line, looking displeased and clenching your fists. That monster dared to play with you.

"This isn't funny, boy. Why would I care what form you take?" You said, figthing the urge to grab a handful of blackberries your pockets were full with and force them down the creature's throat. "Just get it over with."

Looking at your grim face, he offered you to take his hand, watching you intently with those dark blue eyes of his, and you reached out to him, biting your lips. You had definitely built up some courage from the night you met him, you thought, as he drew you closer, touching your hair. Running his fingers through it, the boy - the man - smiled at you again and drew a little symbol on your forehead, watching you becoming more nervous. Tensed, you furrowed your brows.

"Let's go." You urged him, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the door. "I don't want my grandfather to wake up and see you taking me away."

The man hummed with content and went after you, closing the door once both of you were outside. Feeling the chill in the air, you rubbed your shoulder and looked back at the man with irritation. He was still smiling at you, and you didn't like it.

Turning away from him, you had placed a few blackberries into your mouth, trying not to smash it with your teeth, and then immediately closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping your hands around his shoulders and pressing your mouth to his. The man had opened his lips as if he welcomed you. You felt uneasy when he took all the berries willingly. Apparently, he knew of granny Iva's witchcraft.

"You can give me more." He whispered, his short beard brushing against your gentle skin. "It will be more fun this way."

You growled in frustration at his insolence, grasping a handful of blackberries and showing them into his mouth. Taking them all obediently, the man forced your hand to his lips as he licked the dark juicy drops from your skin, slipping his tongue between your fingers. Your face was growing hot with every passing second, but his grip was too strong to push the monster away.

All of a sudden, the antlers on his head appeared again, surrounded by a halo of cold blue light. The magic was starting to show his true colors.

His mouth was dirty with a few berries that got smashed when you pressed your palm against his lips, and you felt an odd urge to lick the little dark spots in the corners of his mouth clean. Damn, he was using his own magic, too.

"Let's go." You grumbled and started to walk in the direction of the woods, not wanting to awake the villagers. The man laughed behind your back and took your hand, speading up.

The silence between you as you moved was unbearable, but you didn't utter a single word until you finally reached the forest, the mist spreading slowly in between the trees. Glancing at the man, you saw he was still in that new form and chew your own tongue. When he was small, it was so much easier to imagine how you would outpower him.

"Could you please turn into the boy again?" You demanded as he came closer - you tried to hide your fear beneath the irritation.

The man chuckled, "Are you saying you'll be more obedient if I stay like this?"

Reaching out to the pocket of your dress, you smashed a few berries in your palm, colouring your skin with the sweet juice, and drew a sign on your arm before the monster reacted. You felt the wind growing stronger as you smiled at him wickedly. If the Plague herself had given you her blessing, you wouldn't become a mere prey of the creature wandering in the woods. You were not a sacrificial lamb.

The man jumped at you the next moment, and you two rolled on the ground, fighting for dominance. Cursing and growling, you bited and kicked and pushed, feeling the creature's cold hands caressing your body through the clothes. No, you wouldn't let him take you like that. Not now, not ever. Gathering all your strength and covering your palm in smashed berry pulp, you grabbed one of the antlers, and the man moaned under you, his huge form slowly changing until you saw a skinny boy lying beneath you. Amazed, he stared at you and stroked your hips lovingly with his arms growing warmer, licking his lips.

"You are so pretty." The boy muttered, looking at you through his trembling lashes. "Kiss me. Please."

Although you wanted to get up, instead you leaned closer, dropping a kiss to his soft discoloured lips and brushing your nose against his. Inhaling his earthy smell, you moved away quickly, glaring at him. Damn it, his magic was still bending you to his will.

"Don't you understand I won't stop?" You grunted, squeezing his antler stronger and making the boy wince and moan again, sitting on top of him. "I will learn, and I will fight you. I'm not gonna be your obedient little girl, listening to your every whim."

"Fight me." The boy whispered, and you felt something hard rising beneath you, brushing against your thigh. "Charm me; curse me. Do whatever you want to me, love. Just stay close."

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