#all of that could have been avoided if that goddamn class had not been so fully and entirely trash and yeah i'm bitter as fuck about that

[thesmokinpossum]

So I dropped out of that one class that pissed me the fuck off at the absolute worst minute (like for real, I did it about an hour ago and there's currently 5 hours left to do it without having to pay for the thing) and then registered for another class so I will still be a full time student and get my full loans and scholarships BUT I am not sure if it actually registered me to the new class and it's too late to call someone for help and I don't know what will happen to said loans and scholarships if that didn't worked, your girl is freaking the fuck out

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

reunion

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: Slow burn; unrequited love; angst; yearning; divorced Art Donaldson; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; safe sex

Summary: It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

"Did you hear Art Donaldson is supposed to be here?"

The question is whispered behind you and makes your hand freeze in its signing. You're half-bent over the table at reception, fingers tight around a pen as your mind is jogged.

No way was he turning up, that's what Anne had said.

Tashi will be there, she's the head of the goddamn reunion committee, the ink is still wet on their divorce—that's what Anne had said. Hell, she'd sworn it.

So what the hell is he doing here?

The sound of your name jogs your attention and you manage to finish signing in. You straighten, taking up your name tag and haphazardly slapping the adhesive onto your top. You need a drink, and quickly. You're halfway to the bar before you feel someone wind their arm through yours.

"Okay, I know you didn't wanna come—"

"Anne."

"And I so appreciate you being here so that I didn't have to come alone—"

"Anne—"

"But I got some news and it's going to be a little shocking so I think you should hear it from me—"

"I know he's here."

"What?" Anne freezes, her arm dropping from yours. You turn to see her looking stricken, her cheeks pinking with panic and embarrassment. You sigh softly, glancing around your fellow alumni. Less than half of them look familiar; your eyes catch on the odd face before you realize that you're inadvertently looking for him.

"Look, there are, like...Five hundred people here, alright?" You add. "I probably won't even see him."

"We can go."

"Look, we made the trip, we're here, we may as well stay. It's fine, okay? We're all adults here! It doesn't matter!" Your insistence is chased by a slightly hysterical laugh. "It was, like, a hundred years ago."

"...You're sure?"

"I am positive."

Positive that you need a drink, and positive that you're going to regret agreeing to stay.

--

It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

You were friends, sure. You palled around, had a few classes together, hung out at a few parties—but he was so in love with Tashi Duncan that you'd never made his romantic radar. You'd forced yourself to believe that that was for the best, that you didn't need his love or romantic validation to be happy. But you couldn't pretend that wanting him didn't sting.

He'd had a couple of girlfriends while you were at Stanford, but you could always feel, always see that they were never really his priority. It was Tashi, then tennis, then them.

The two of you had kept touch a little after college, but you'd pushed yourself to move on. Conversation had begun to fade, and when he hadn't tried to keep it up, you had resolved to let him go.

You'd avoided his name in the news as much as you can, but it had been hard. He was on billboards, packaging, tv—it was like you couldn't escape him.

Want melted to sadness; sadness shifted to annoyance; annoyance hardened into disdain. You couldn't see his likeness or hear his name without rolling your eyes. It wasn't his fault, of course, but the prospect of running into Art fuckin' Donaldson made you queasy.

Still, you put on a brave face for Anne, forcing your focus into conversation.

It's a struggle to keep your gaze from seeking him out. You take each sip with a little white lie, convincing yourself that you're looking to make sure you can avoid contact. You spot Tashi a couple of times, but you don't go out of your way to say hello. She's surrounded by a cloud of people—taking pictures, signing programs and name tags and old Duncanator shirts.

When Anne insists on going to say hello, you force a small smile.

"You, um—you go ahead," You nod, taking a couple of steps back. "I'm gonna get some air."

Anne's dark eyes flit over you questioningly before she blessedly lets it go, nodding and going on her way. You turn, swiping a fresh drink off of a passing waiter's tray as you leave.

It takes a few moments for the buzz of conversation to clear from your head. You take a gulp of the prosecco, wrinkling your nose. It's a little sweeter than you usually like, and doesn't mingle well with the three other drinks that you've downed. Tashi's not going to find your lack of presence or greeting conspicuous; you'd been cordial and on speaking terms in college, but the two of you had never been close.

Damn, but it's chillier outside than you thought it would be. The reception had been so warm, so crammed with people. Paired your head being near-permanently on a swivel, you hadn't realize how hot and tense you'd been.

You frown at the waft of cigarette smoke that catches your nose. Who the hell is still smoking in this day and age—

"Are you hiding, too?"

Maybe you can feign that you didn't hear him—that the sound of his voice didn't jog a hundred memories and trigger a flurry of butterflies. But before you can stop yourself, you turn, the words, "I thought you quit smoking," tumbling out of your mouth.

Art's smile widens as he draw the cigarette back from his lips, a stream of smoke pushed out of the side of his mouth.

"I did. Quit quitting, though." He takes one more puff before he flicks it away, drifting closer. "Hi."

Hi, like it's not the first time you've seen him in the better part of a decade. Hi, like neither of you are oceans from where you where when you last saw one another.

"Hi," You manage. He doesn't hesitate to draw you into his arms; he seems to almost do it without thinking. You only allow yourself a moment of resistance before you raise and curl your arms around him. The clean scent of his pressed jacket and woodsy cologne are muddled with smoke. The fingers of one if your hands curls covetously in the fabric of his jacket as his palms smooth gently over your back. You hear him draw in a deep breath, feel him hold it, and then release it with a soft hum.

"How the hell are you?"

Probably better than you are these days.

You shrug a little, mumbling, "Fine."

He draws away, eyes skating across your face.

"You don't sound so sure about that."

"I'm sure."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

You can feel him winding up for another pass at it, but you hold your glass out before he can. His fingers brush against yours as he drains it.

"Why are you hiding?" You ask. He shrugs, nods toward the door.

"It's a lot in there. I forgot what these events are like."

"People wanna congratulate you. They're proud."

"Are you?"

"I am, but I'll hold off. Don't wanna crowd you."

Your attention is drawn from Art's smile as you hear someone clearing their throat over the speaker system inside:

"If we could have the reunion chairpersons to the stage, please!"

You glance toward Art and find him fidgeting, his thumb smoothing across his bare ring finger.

"…Do you wanna go back in?" You offer. He considers before he says, "Wait here."

You watch curiously as he darts inside, and are stunned when he reappears a moment later. You just barely catch a glimpse of the bottle of champagne clenched in his fist before he rests his other hand on your lower back, steering you away with an urgent murmur of, "C'mon."

--

"I'm surprised you came," You tell him. Art doesn't look at you for a moment, and you take the chance to lean back against the hard plastic seat. He's as beautiful as he was the last time the two of you were together, the night before graduation—practically in the same seats. You don't know if he was thinking about that when he'd led the way into the stands, chosen where to sit. Maybe it was pure muscle-memory.

Either way, you don't know how long the two of you have been sitting out there, knees bumping, passing the bottle back and forth. You take in his profile—the slope of his nose and cut of his jaw; the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows.

"My therapist said it would be good," He finally admits. "Told me I needed to get out more, start getting back into events, work at the foundation...What about you, huh?" He turns, brows raising. "You always told me that you hated this stuff."

You're surprised he remembers.

"I do hate this stuff, but," You shrug. "Anne didn't want to come alone."

"You're a good friend. I never forgot that." He sits up and passes the bottle back to you. "What happened to us, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did we stop talking?"

I couldn't keep begging for scraps of attention.

"I don't know," You deflect. "Guess we just lost touch. It happens."

"I shouldn't have let it happen to us."

You look down at the bottle, sweeping your finger across a slipping drop of condensation.

"You were busy."

"You weren't?"

"Not in the same way," You laugh self-consciously.

"What were you busy with then, huh?" He shifts, thigh pressing against yours. "You used to always say you'd uh—burn out by twenty-six."

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"Oh, it didn't take nearly that long."

"What!" He laughs. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know what to tell you, man. A girl can only take a soul-sucking marketing job for so long."

"So what do you do now?"

"Still in marketing, but I'm a manager, so. Still soul-sucking, but making a little more money."

"You like it?"

"God no, but I don't know what else I would do." You pass the bottle back.

"Could find something for you at the foundation."

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head as Art sputters a laugh, asks, "What?"

"Don't do that, Art."

"Don't do what?"

"I don't need, you know—"

"We could use you—"

"You don't even know what I do at work."

"I bet it's great—"

"You don't even know if I'm a good worker—"

"Sure I do, I know you."

"No, you don't!"

You know it's a mistake the second it leaves your mouth. Art's smile wavers as he leans away again.

"I just mean—" You try.

"I know what you mean. It's been a long time."

"...Yeah, it has." You take the bottle back, drawing deeply from it before passing it back. "I should get going. I'm sure Anne's looking for me."

"Sure."

You don't say goodbye or tell him that it was nice to see him. You just make as hasty a retreat as you can without tripping over your feet.

--

@ a_donaldsonofficial requested to follow you. 3h

You're not sure what surprises you more—the follow request or the message in your DMs: Dinner?

--

His groan is sinful and low, and makes you rethink ever losing contact with the guy. Under the warm glow of the diner's lights, his eyes slip shut, fingers tightening around the bun.

"...When's the last time you had a burger?" You finally manage to ask.

"I can't remember." He admits it through the mouthful, and you don't begrudge him the couple of flecks of food that land on the table. You smile, plucking up a couple of fries.

"Art?"

"Mm."

"Why'd you ask me to dinner?"

Art sets the burger down as he swallows, taking off his napkin to clean off his hands.

"I was thinking...About what you said at the reunion."

"Mhm."

"About me not knowing you. You're right. But you know what?" He presses on before you can process your surprise. "I don't think you know me, either."

You think for a moment, brows furrowing. He's right. You know the image of Art Donaldson that's been projected to you over the years—on tv screens, in magazines, in online clips.

"...I don't think I do," You agree.

"Figured we should fix that. Catch up, fill each other in on what we've missed."

"Okay."

"So, after college..." He trails off, waving his hand. "Fill me in."

"Moved to New York."

"Uh-huh."

"Working in marketing."

"Burned out before 26—"

"Yeah, hit my capitalistic peak at 23."

"That fast?"

"I mean, that's the last time I remember giving a shit about work, so. Yeah."

"Relationships?"

"...A couple," You admit.

"Serious?"

"Yeah. One."

"Married?"

"No. Engaged." His eyes drop to your bare left hand, and you hurriedly tuck it into your lap. "Formerly engaged."

"What happened?"

"It just didn't feel right. I don't think either of us were ready."

"...Was it anyone I knew? I don't remember you dating much at school."

"Guess I didn't."

"You weren't shy."

"Well no, but—"

"So what was it?"

"I had the worst crush on you, dude!" It's another mistake, but where the last one seemed to make Art retreat, this one leaves his gobsmacked. His eyes widen, mouth opening in a wide smile.

"You what?"

"Oh, kay, you know what—"

"I had no idea!"

"I was very subtle."

Art leans back in the diner booth, watching you openly. You can see the gears turning in his head, and you wonder what he may be remembering, holding up and twisting about in this new light.

"...Huh," He mutters.

"You can feel free to forget that at any time."

"I don't think I will...I wish I'd known."

You consider for a moment before you shrug. "I don't know. I'm kinda glad that you didn't."

"Really?" His brows knit with confusion. "Why?"

"I don't like coming second, Art."

Art nods slowly, and you see something tight pass across his face before it's smoothed away again.

"You know what?" He smiles bitterly. "Neither do I."

You nod toward his plate.

"Your burger's getting cold."

--

"So, uh..." Art clears his throat as the two of you take slow, drifting steps to your car. "I'm gonna say two things, and I don't want you to think that they've got anything to do with what you said earlier."

You know exactly what he means, but you just grumble, "I said a lot of things earlier."

"I think we both know which one I'm talking about."

"Uh-huh. So what's up?"

"...I wanna see you again."

"Okay."

"But things are a little...Messy right now. Tashi and I are working on getting Lily into a regular rhythm and it's harder than we thought it would be."

You lean back against your car, tucking your hands into your pockets.

"Mhm...I hesitate to ask."

"Yeah."

"How does this have to do with what I said earlier?"

"I just don't want you to think that this is—"

"A consolation prize?"

"Something like that."

"Whatever you need to do to get in a good place with Lily is fine, Art, you don't need to justify that to me."

"Even if it means you come second?"

You tip your head to the side, pursing your lips. "It's different when it's your kid. I meant that I didn't want to be second to—You know."

"...Yeah," He mutters, looking at his feet as he takes another foot forward. "And for the record, I was thinking of asking you out again by the time we sat down."

"You could've changed your mind."

"I didn't. And I don't want to."

You smile, nodding. "Well I don't want you to, either." You straighten up as you fish into your bag for your keys. "Call me the next time you're in New York."

"Sure."

You reach out, cupping his cheek and leaning in, pecking his cheek. You pull away, smiling at the flush creeping across his face.

"Goodnight, Art."

"Night."

--

It isn't easy at first. Messages are far and few, mostly how are yous and how was your days. You think that as nice as the little swell of contact has been, that's all it'll be—but the two of you both start to really try. The odd text becomes the weekly phone call. Weekly phone calls become daily FaceTimes. On the nights when he has Lily, they're late, usually when you're getting ready for bed. On the nights when he's on his own, the two of you eat dinner together and chat over your calls. It isn't always perfect, but it's more than you could've anticipated from that dinner a couple of months ago.

--

"She down?"

"Yeah."

"Are you in a hotel again?"

"...Yeah." Art seems to admit it grudgingly, and you smile a little as you take up your toner and a cotton pad.

"There's nothing wrong with leaning into it if it's working," You argue. "And not to be that bitch, but you're not exactly broke."

"Might be if she keeps ordering room service and movies on-demand."

You laugh softly, turning your attention to your reflection as you swipe the toner across your face.

"How's your day been?" Art asks.

"Fine, standard. I had to fill out an assessment ahead of my annual review."

"When's that?"

"End of the week."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Mm," You shrug reaching for a serum. "Fine, I guess. I'm doing okay, my team's hitting their targets."

"You're doing better than okay."

"Art."

"You are."

"Well. Thank you for that." You glance over as he goes quiet, catching a glimpse of him as you smooth the serum into your skin. You raise your brows at the sight of his gentle, warm smile. "What is it?"

"You're beautiful."

Your face goes warm at the compliment, and you bite the inside of your cheek to tamp down your wide, idiotic smile.

"You are tired, huh," You deflect.

"I mean it."

"...I know," You murmur, reaching for your moisturizer. "Tell me what you got up to today."

"I had a meeting at the foundation. We're starting planning for the gala."

"Oh yeah? Have you done them before?"

"We've had three before, but I was usually playing or training, so I haven't been as involved in the planning."

"How's it been?"

"We're still in the preliminary stages, but it's been interesting, you know, seeing how the pieces come together before I usually see them."

You nod, picking the phone up from the mirror holder and heading into your bedroom.

"Where are you gonna have it?"

"We're still scouting locations...As a matter of fact," Art adds, "We're considering a few in New York."

"Oh?"

"I'll be down there for at least a few days, and I wanna see you."

You grin bashfully as you climb into bed, settling against your pillows.

"I wanna see you, too. Are you gonna, um—I mean, is Lily gonna be with you?"

"No, it'll be Tashi's weekend."

"Okay, cool. Just wanna make sure I don't mess up your time."

"I appreciate that." Art's tongue swipes across his lower lip, eyes sweeping across your face. "I gotta say..."

"Mmm?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing your apartment."

"Oh, really?" You chuckle. "Why's that?"

"It'll be interesting, that's all. I mean, you already take me to bed every night."

You laugh, covering your eyes as you groan, "Oh, god, shut up!" as Art chuckles.

"Let me know when you're free," You add. "Your schedule's gonna be weirder than mine."

"Yeah, I will, as soon as I know what it is." You watch as Art lays down, propping his phone up on the nightstand. "...Can you stay on?"

"Yeah," You soothe, setting your phone on the nightstand in suit. "Until we fall asleep."

"Okay," He murmurs. The two of you settle in on your sides, watching one another on the phone.

"Night, Art."

"Sweet dreams."

--

The restaurant is picked. Your nails are done, your hair is done; you get a new dress, new shoes, a new bag. You're going to have an amazing night—a good dinner, a great conversation, and, if you have any luck, an amazing good night kiss.

--

You know the minute you see him that you're not making it to the restaurant. Art's eyes sweep over you in covetous wonder when you open the door. He closes the gap between the two of you, drawing you into his arms, and this time you go without a second thought. He presses his face into your neck, letting out a gentle hum at the scent of your perfume. The tip of his nose trails up over your jaw, his lips brushing the corner of your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He sighs as you draw in a nervous breath, and he sways in, lips pressing to yours.

You raise your hand to cup his neck, shivering as his hands smooth over your hips. He guides you deeper inside, blindly reaching back and shoving the door shut behind you as you fling your purse toward the bench in your entryway. His kisses grow hungrier as he steers you down the hall. You slip your tongue along his, smoothing your hand up to grasp his hair. Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his pale, muscled chest to you. He slides down the zipper on the back of your dress and leans away just long enough to draw the dress up over your head. His eyes sweep across you, taking in your lingerie.

You hook your thumbs under the band of your underwear, giving them a teasing wiggle as you back further away from him. You expect him to follow, but he steers you back against the wall, dropping his head to suck hot kisses along your neck and down to your chest. He yanks one of the cups of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, tipping your head back against the wall and whining as he slots his knee between your thighs. You roll your hips down against the hard muscle as he laves and teases your nipple, reaching up to thumb and tweak the other.

"Art—Mm, god that feels so good."

He groans against your skin, trailing his kisses further down as he lowers himself to his knees. You look down as he curls his fingers around your panties—and waits. You smile softly, nodding, murmuring, "Please?"

Art grins, pressing a kiss to your hip before he gently eases the fabric down, waiting for you to lift your feet so he can fling them away. He leans in, swiping his tongue across your aching clit. Your knees would knock if he wasn't wedged between them. You draw in a shallow breath, letting your head tip back as he draws your leg over his shoulder. You shiver at the feeling of the chilly air against your heated, slick flesh. He nuzzles and laps against your cunt, taking each tip of your hips in stride. His hand smooths up your trembling inner thigh, giving your ass a gentle squeeze before he teases a finger into you. You whimper at the touch, unable to help the way your pussy clenches around it.

Art groans at the feeling, turning his head to smear his lips slips against your hip.

"Goddamn," He breaths against you.

"More."

You feel more than hear his gentle chuckle as he eases another finger in.

"Need it bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I'm getting a pretty good idea." He turns his head, leveling a sucking kiss to your clit that makes you cry out. You tighten your grip on his hair as he pumps his fingers harder, curling and scissoring them as he pushes you closer to the edge.

"Art—Mm, god, fuck, yes—Yes—" Your toes curl in your shoes as your hips rabbit down against his face and fingers, chasing the swell of your orgasm. You look back down as he draws back and find his lips and chin shining with your juices.

"Bed," He urges.

"You can fuck me right here."

Art laughs, standing and smoothing his hand over your thigh.

"We're doing this right."

"We could be doing this right...." You slid your hand down his chest to palm his cock through his pants. "Here."

You grin as Art's eyelids flutter, his dick twitching against you.

"Bed," He insists again.

It isn't far to go, and the two of you are entirely bare by the time you get there. You scooch back onto the bed, spreading your legs as he rolls on a condom. He's over you a moment later, and you watch the bulge of his biceps as he braces his hands on either side of your head. You bite your lip as you feel the brush of his cock against your entrance. You reach down, grasping his cock and guiding him closer.

You tip your head up, tongue teasing the seam of his lips as he eases into you. You melt into the mattress as he crushes against you, filling you completely. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding your legs over his, as if you'll manage to fuse the two of you together. Art's tongue swirls around yours before he captures your lips in a kiss, rolling his hips slowly.

"More," You plead, but Art keeps his pace achingly steady, even when you try to pick up the pace.

"You feel so fucking good," He breathes, "Even better than you taste."

"Harder, Art, please, god damn, please," You whimper. He tips his head to the side nipping at the hinge of your jaw as he reaches down, hiking your hip up even higher. Your mouth fell open with a stunned moan as he presses deeper, the slap of his hips filthily filling the stifling air around you. You arch up against him, nails raking down his back as you feel the swell of another orgasm.

"Art."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm—Fuck, almost—"

"That's it." He sucks his fingers between his lips before he slips them between your bodies, swiping across your tender clit. You begin to close your eyes, but he tuts softly.

"Don't—Don't close your eyes—Look at me," He orders between breaths. You force yourself to focus on Art, taking in the flush on his cheeks, his almost dazed eyes.

"You, too—" You urge.

"Yeah—"

"Oh—yeah," You gasp, unable to keep your gaze on his you cum. You feel Art's hips slap roughly against yours before he slows, groaning low in his chest. You draw in a deep breath as your heart pounds in your chest, sinking back against your pillows as he settles down over you. You smooth your hand over his nape, smiling as he nuzzles against your shoulder, dropping tender kisses to your skin.

"...Art?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we're going to be late for dinner."

--

"You know, I've been thinking."

"You've been doing a lot more than thinking, mister," You mutter, and grin as Art laughs. You cuddle closer against his side, nuzzling into his chest as he tightens his arm around your shoulders.

"I'm glad I didn't know you liked me in college."

"Really?" You tip your head up, brow furrowing. "Why's that?"

"...I wasn't ready for you back then." He smooths his fingers along your jaw, eyes wandering your face contemplatively. "It's like you said, you know. You would've come second."

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

"I don't think I was ready for you, either," You admit. Art smiles.

"And you are now?"

"More than."

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[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Hello i have a idea, how about Yandere Andrew and Ashley x Older Sister Reader with plot being something like

Y/N never cared about Andrew and Ashley cus she find them annoying, she never tried to be good sister even a little and didn't pay attention to their strange behavior towards her, bc despite her careless they loved her and always clings to her and ruins her relationships with boys and girls. And after another ruined relationship, Y/N finally fed up and leaves them, they of course tried to use manipulations and even threats in hopes that Y/N would stay and be theirs but all this things doesn't worked on her. After a two weeks Andrew and Ashley manages to find Y/N....with new boyfriend which makes their blood boil, bc Y/N is theirs only

Facts - 1. Y/N hates mom and dad as much as Ashley, thats why she lived with Andrew and Ashley

2. Y/N is not any better than Andrew and Ashley. Y/N kills some dudes before just for fun

So what do you think?

Thank you anon I needed the motivation TwT

TW: Manslaughter and Murder

Yandere!Ashley and Andrew x Older Sister!Reader

You’ve been fucked over since birth

Teen parents, one who was spineless, the other who was a manipulative bitch- both who had no idea what they were doing or how to use a goddamn condom

Yeah, you were screwed

By age 4 you learned that you can only really count on yourself in this shit bag of a world

Unfortunately by then, your mother already popped out two other crotch demons to ignore

They thought you were such an independent child, why not have another? This one is also quiet and doesn’t complain- so again!

They stopped having kids after Ashley came around- and if you’re going to give your little sister credit for anything, it’s that she taught them to use protection next time

Or convince mom to get her tubes tied and avoid this whole thing again, truthfully you didn’t care how they went about it- so long as you didn’t have to deal with any more annoying little shits

Ashley and Andrew were always clinging to, which was a normal thing you heard little siblings do….but god they took it to the extreme

Making up excuses to leave class so they could go bother you in yours, following you around all day, Ashley would try to climb you and cling to your back so she would always be close to you

You hated it, you hated it so much

“Y/N?…”

You groaned, jostling in your bed to turn your back to the little shit. You just wanted to sleep, it was the one time you didn’t have to deal with either of them but here’s shit one now!

Andy reached a hand out and poked your back, or where he presumed it to be under the covers, “Y/N?” He persisted, “I know you’re awake.”

“How the fuck do you know that?..” you mumbles from under the covers.

Andy reached his hands out and tugged on the blanket to try and pull it off, “You never sleep on your side, your body naturally turns you on to your back. And you have a specific look you make when asleep.” Andy tried to replicate the look, an open mouth and shut eyes. His lip twitched a little for authenticity.

You sat up, staring daggers at him, “Do you watch me sleep? Little creep—“ you threw your pillow at his face, which had the opposite effect you hoped for. You wanted him to feel dejected, walk solemnly back to his bed while you struggled to ever sleep again. But no, your little brother just laughed and hugged the pillow tight.

The noise caused the small form under the covers of the bed across the room to rustle. Great, you both woke LeyLey. The lump under her covers shot up, pulling at the starry blanket so she could look at you two.

“Ooohhhh, are we sleeping in Y/N’s bed tonight!” She sounded excited, crawling off of her bed and rushing over to Andy’s side. She noticed the pillow and tried to take it, “Give!”

“No way!” Andy held the pillow close to his chest like a treasured gift, “It’s mine! Y/N gave it to me!”

Actually I threw it at you, you thought- but the two were too focused on their tussling to notice you watching unamused. God at this rate they’re going to wake up mom and dad and then you’ll somehow get in trouble—

“You’re their older sister!” Mom would say, “You should be mediating them!”

Technically you shouldn’t. You should be asleep. Or not even born. Self deprecating aside, you would much rather go to sleep as soon as possible, and it’s clear Andy and LeyLey won’t leave unless you let them sleep with you.

So, with a sigh, you pull the covers away, “Get in here you two- and stop fighting over the pillow!” You snatch it from Andy, who gives you the look of a sad puppy you just kicked, “You’re gonna wake mom and dad.”

LeyLey looked ecstatic, hoping into your bed and climbing over you- making sure to ‘accidentally’ knee you in the groin. You wince, you may not have anything down there- but it still hurt! Andy was next, climbing up and settling down on the other side of you. He hugged your arm, smiling softly. LeyLey wrapped her tiny arms around your waist, as best as she could to hold on to you. You sat there, uncomfortably waiting for them to let go, only for their soft snoring to tell you they fell asleep.

Clinging to you.

You groan, this is going to be a long night.

You had hoped that as your siblings got older they wouldn’t need their big sister as much, oh how wrong you were

It seemed like the opposite was true- the older they got the more they needed you. The more they clung to you.

They always had an excuse for needing you, this happened so much that any friends you made drifted away from you

Which only gave you more time to spend with your ‘precious little siblings’

Eugh

You had planned to leave. To buy a bus ticket and drive far far away from your childhood home and your fucked up family

But then the quarantine hit

Mom and dad ditched, Ashley being the last one to see mom on her way out

But even with the two extra mouths gone, the rations drained fast and the wardens made no effort the feed the three of you

The laundry detergent looked tastier everyday

Besides the lack of food situation- Ashley and Andrew loved the quarantine

They got to be with their big sister 24/7

And holllyyy shit they abused that

Most mornings you would wake up to one of them in your bed, clinging to you like a leech

You stopped kicking them off after the 10th time, it just became a routine

Whenever you went into a room, conveniently they also needed to be in there

About to shower? Ashley needs to do the laundry!

Want to take a nap on mom and dad’s bed, Andrew’s looking for a book, he’ll even read it to you as a bedtime story. How thoughtful

It got to a point where it was just second nature to find them within 3 feet of you

Though there was only so much one person could take

And after the newscaster announced the quarantine would be extended for three more weeks, well….

You stared at the sleeping forms of your siblings, wanting to be 100% sure they were asleep before you enacted your plan. You pulled the covers off of yourself, quietly getting up. You’ve lived in this trash fire of an apartment for 24 years of your miserable life, and thankfully memorized the creaky spots on the ground to avoid.

You couldn’t spend another three weeks in here. The three of you ran out of food a little over a month ago, and you weren’t going to let paramedics find your starved corpse being clung on to by your siblings. Hell no!

Your eyes darted between Ashley and Andrew’s beds as you walked, one misstep and they’d ask where you were going- then everything would go to shit. Your hand slowly raised itself to the doorknob, quietly twisting it. You flinched as it cracked open- looking to see if anyone woke up. Ashley was closest to the door, but she slept like a corpse. Andrew on the other hand was a light sleeper, so it was mostly him you were worried about waking up. You gave a silent sigh as he turned out to still be asleep.

You tiptoed through the door, flinching as you tried to quietly close it. Once the door was shut, your hand hovered over the knob as you waited.

Silence!

You were just in the homestretch now. Your wallet was already in your pants pocket, really that was all you needed to be honest. You had no items of sentimental value to bring, no. You wanted to forget this place. Burn it to the ground in your mind.

You made your way to the balcony, Ashley stupidly left the key in it. You opened the door and took in the fresh air….well- as fresh as it could be with the air pollution. You looked over the balcony, searching as you spotted your escape. A rickety looking water spout. It looked faulty, like it was about to snap off of the building, if not that- just cutting your hand on it was enough to contract tetanus. But honestly, you didn’t care.

You hoisted yourself on to the balcony’s ledge, hugging the wall and swinging your foot over to hook around the spout. Success! Alright…you just gotta..

Hyping yourself up, you ripped the bandaid off and just got it over with. You succeed, you just have to shimmy down to your escape. You fail, you die.

Win-Win!

You succeed though, holding on to the water spout like your life depended on it. Which it did. With care and ease, you worked your way down the spout, until your feet touched the concrete ground.

“Hey!” A deep voice made your blood run cold. Turning your head, you shielded your eyes from the bright flashlight. The man behind it wore a uniform similar to the warden’s, he must work with them, “What are you doing?”

You needed to think fast. You looked around and noticed a stray brick at your feet. You whipped your head back to the warden, his eyes fixed on you as his free hand hovered over his gun.

It all happened faster than you could process. Chucking the brick at the asshole, he fell to the ground with a thud. You didn’t look at the body, didn’t bother to make sure he was still alive. You ran. And ran.

You’ve never ran so fast in your life.

You were free. Free!

Free from starving!

Free from any of this shit!

Sure you probably killed a man, but it was imperative to your own survival

Not like anyone knew it was you anyway

Ashley and Andrew were going to starve, so any connection people could make to your disappearance and the warden’s death will be gone soon.

You bought a bus ticket and high tailed it out of there

Got a new job, and saved up enough for your own shitty apartment

Sibling free too!

Life was…starting to look okay, for once.

We don’t talk about the people you mugged to help save up for this place though

That’s between you and whatever fucked up good there is in this world

….and the people you mugged. Them too

But- point is, you’ve got a job, an apartment, a boyfriend that you met through work

Everything was pretty okay

You fumbled with your keys, eventually getting them to turn the stupidly janky lock. God you needed to get better locks installed, the keyhole being stripped from years of wear and tear. Apparently the landlord refuses to get them changed. But hey, at least your door opened

You wish your door hadn’t opened.

Before you could take in the gruesome sight in front of you, the wretched stench of blood and decay hit your nose. It wafted into your open mouth, slack jawed from shock and grazed your tastebuds. You quickly slapped your hand over your mouth and nose, dry heaving to not throw up.

There, in the middle of your apartment was the cooling corpse of your boyfriend. His body was mutilated, blood being lazily cleaned by his attackers. A tall, messy black haired man was on his hands and knees, wiping at the blood- while overtop of your partner’s corpse was a woman with her own black haired pulled back into a ponytail.

Green and pink eyes.

….your siblings.

“Oh!” Ashley looked up, grinning ear to ear, “Y/N! You’re home!”

Andrew perked up as well, sitting on his knees now as he shot up like a meerkat. Both scrambled to their feet, clinging to your arms as you stared at the body in shock.

“Sorry for such a sloppy job, we’re normally cleaner,” Andrew’s words were trying to reassure you, but it was just doing the opposite, “He just wouldn’t die.”

“You really know how to pick em sis.” Ashley’s nails dug into your arm, her statement feeling more like a jab than a compliment.

Though your body was there, your mind wasn’t. It was running a mile a minute trying to answer so many questions. How did they find you? How did they get in? What’s with the candles? What’s with the weird runes on the floor?

You feel like none of those will be answered, and as your little siblings nuzzle against you like cats- the harsh reality dawns on you.

You’ll never escape them.

[thevoidstaredback]

Tim was curious. Maybe a little addicted to whatever the hell was in that coffee, he's still standing by the point that no other coffee will ever be enough, but that's not the point.

He wants answers. The Justice League want answers. No one has been able to get them. Because Phantom stays in the House of Mysteries, no one but the JLD can actually get time him. The Supers have tried listening out for him, but magic is something they're weak against and therefore can't hear through. Batman has tried to get into the House, but he's been sent everywhere else for his attempts. They would track him down as a civilian, but no one actually knows if he has a civilian disguise. It's very hard to hide hair that starkly white and skin pale enough to be blue.

Regardless, everyone wanted answers and Tim was determined to be the one to get them. Why does Phantom claim to be thirty-eight, fourteen, and eighteen all at the same time? Where did he come from? When did he die? How did he die? What the hell is in his coffee because damn was it good!

Off topic.

Tim had the rest of the Titans return to the tower while he stayed out. It'd be easier to track if he was the only one doing it. Besides, these guys work with Raven, they won't hurt him. Probably.

The fact that Phantom apparently smelled like death was another concern Tim had. Was it because he was dead? And what did Constantine mean that 'the smell lingers'?

More questions kept popping up like goddamn daisies, and there was no answers to clip them down. Tim was getting frustrated, to say the least.

***

Danny made an effort to at least try and help Constantine with the demon problem the building was having. Honestly, it wasn't even that bad, in Danny's humble opinion. The demon was just messing with people, not hurting anyone or stealing anything! He was, at most, planting minor inconveniences everywhere.

That's not technically his monkey, though, and it was most definitely not his circus. He figured he'd offer to be helpful, though, if only so that Constantine would owe him a favor. A favor he already knows how he's going to cash in.

"Why'd you really want to tag along?" Constantine asked Danny while they searched for the demon.

"What do you mean? You offered to bring me along."

"Yeah, but that's because you need to get out of the House more."

"Funny, coming from you."

"I spend more time outside of the House than I do inside." the Brit scoffed, "Now tell me why you agreed to come along. This is demon hunting. You only ever go ghost hunting."

Danny sighed and ran his left hand through his hair. Not that he could feel it, stupid nerve damage. "Deadman's been on my ass about my first trip to Gotham. I would've left to go find some place to crash, but the entire Justice League is also on my ass for some reason! I'd honestly rather not have to face any of them."

"You've been to Gotham?" Constantine asked, "When?"

Danny groaned, "Not you, too!"

"Whoa, okay, okay. You don't need to share with the class."

"Sorry."

"You better be."

"Hey!"

"Now tell my why the JL proper are after you?"

A sigh. "You remember at that meeting when Red Robin mistook my drink for his?"

"Yeah. Hard to forget. You freaked everyone out a little bit."

"Yeah. Turns out they all have questions that I don't want to answer. Avoiding them all has been the best way to not answer."

"You know you can't dodge them all forever."

"I know, but I really don't want to have to explain anything!" he whined, "The questions that they'll end up asking are gonna be really painful to answer."

A raised eyebrow. "How do you know what they'll ask?"

"Because everyone always asks the same things. Worded differently, but still that same."

"Then refuse to answer."

Danny met Constantine's eyes with a deadpan glare. "You're gonna look me in the eye and tell me that the Justice League and their sidekicks will leave me alone if I tell them 'no'?" He shook his head. "Lying's a bad habit, old man."

Constantine rolled his eyes as he went for his lighter, remembering they were were in a no smoke zone and retracting his hand. "Don't sass me, brat. Wonder Woman and Superman, at the very least, would back off. They'd get everyone else to, too."

"What about Batman and his brood?"

"Touche." the man said, "But you can't hide from them forever."

"I can try,"

"But you'll fail."

Another groan. "Can we just get this thing over with? I want to lock myself in the basement and wallow."

Part 5 Part 7

Tag List:

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[radiocrypt-id]

The bad kids haven't really looked too closely at the Rat Grinders (meta wise I know it's a commentary on different play styles and how shitty xp farming is and how op players/parties can become by doing the bare minimum if they put in the time while everyone else plays the damn game) but I find the split perspective problems absolutely fascinating. I can't wait for the Bad Kids to look at the Rat Grinders with envy and anger that the Rat Grinders got to live a normal highschool life without all this insane danger and experience being a teenager without it being the end of the world for them. Right now they just hate the Rat Grinders energy and are matching it back (which is a very high school thing to do. To have beef with a whole other group of kids and not even know why but you'll die on this hill because they started shit first)

Because to the Rat Grinders, from a purely outside perspective, the Bad Kids are fucking monarchs of the school, right? They skipped classes, ran around town, fought people, got arrested, hung out with a big devil? Every new staff member came at their recommendation? One of them has both her dads working at the school?? The destroyed school property, got teachers killed, straight murdered the coach? These fucking kids run around and are apparently scott-free? because the principal liked their chaos enough to let it go and help them avoid the police? To the Rat Grinders, the Bad Kids are untouchable. They're exempt from the law. They're liars, cheats and need to be humbled. It's unfair. From everyone elses perspective, it really does look like the Bad Kids have been given crazy favourtism.

Meanwhile, all of the Bad Kids have died at least once. They've been irreparably changed and are in a constant state of fight or flight. They assume everything is dangerous and anyone might be an enemy because for two goddamn years that was the exact case! They couldn't trust any adult first year! Literally anyone could have been infected with Kalina second year! who knows what happened with the Night Yord but I fucking bet they had issues with Yorbies pretending to be helpful just to kill them! Everyone, for two years, has been out to get them! They can't even sleep! And now they have to grind so hard or they fail. Adaine has a seemingly full time job after school basically every day because she literally can't afford to live? Fabian has taken on the most physically strenuous classes and sport one dude could and has dreams of also being a social legend because he's fucking lonely in that big house and he just wants to fill it. If anyone in the party fails or dies Riz is shit out of luck and wont ever get into a university? He so desperately wants his friends with him so he's working over time and ignoring his limits to make up for his party members not caring about the future. Fig is going through the strangest arc I've ever seen in my life? she's hard avoidant and taking three classes, so a 250% work load, because she's desperate to fill her time so she can't think about all the other work she has to do that if she ignores too long could crush her under the debt of her band from her label, or how alone she feels without her girlfriend around. Gorgug is so desperate to prove himself that he's doing four years of school work in one, trying to play catch up and also prove himself at the same time, he's taking it all so seriously but also is so fucking tired. And Kristen. Mother fucking Kristen "hey girlie" applebees. Expected to dedicate her life to a god with no direction, with the weight of failure being her gods death, while also being in school and also at your friends insistence needing to run for student body president and getting your priorities so mixed up and being completely left behind by her peers who didn't have to rework their entire world view and understanding of life in the span of a few months every few months.

The Bad Kids are in a terrible place. They're suffering. I want them to just say it out loud, to stop pretending they have it handled and are fine. I want Riz and Adaine to yell at the party to get their shit together. I want Fabian to tell someone how alone and abandoned her feels. I want Kristen to scream at Cassandra that she agrees, that it's not fair, she's just a kid, how could she be enough all on her own with no help? It sucks a god can only rely on a child, for both the god and child! They're both suffering from this arrangement! Neither is happy! I want Gorgug to beat the shit out of Porter with his inventions and rage at the same time, to make the best shit and use it in the most stunning way anyone has ever seen. I want Fig to finally get some freaking help, to have her teachers and parents reach out in a meaningful way and stop telling her to figure it out alone because clearly the pressure is too much for her to handle and she's drowning. I want someone, anyone, to look at the Bad Kids and tell them to stop. To help them. But I know it wont be that easy. I know it'll be the Rat Grinders yelling at how unfair it is the Bad kids get everything while they're on the sidelines that'll get under the Bad Kids skin and they'll yell about how awesome they are and that they didn't ask for any of this shit to happen to them and to fuck off. I know it's gonna get so much worse before it gets better. I know they'll figure it out and that it'll be a painful road there.

[theprettynosferatu]

CONTENT WARNING. NO, FOR REAL, READ THIS FIRST.

This story contains strong themes and graphic non-consensual sex. If you feel they might affect you adversely, skip this one.

Andrea is being tormented in college by a bigoted popular girl. Her daddy has always helped her... maybe he can help her get some justice...

CW: Incest, non-con, SA, orientation play (F-straight to bi)

I - No Expiration Date

She felt ridiculous. She probably looked ridiculous too, sitting against the wall, grabbing her knees, almost shaking, all in the middle of the hallway. Most made a point to not look at her, rushing to their classes, their dorms or wherever the hell they needed to be with such haste. Well, Andrea knew they only rushed because of her, to give themselves a plausible excuse to avoid doing the right thing and checking up on the poor, weird girl hyperventilating on the ground.

The worst part was that Andrea knew she shouldn’t let it get to her. If anything, it was Kate that should be ashamed of herself, not Andrea- fuck, to say such things in these days was almost quaint in its ignorance, and if Andrea chose to make a stink, grounds for expulsion. Would it be considered a hate crime? Maybe. But going up to the dean or whoever like a poor little victim felt so… humiliating. Perhaps more so than Kate’s constant, whispered words and stories. And some idiots actually listened to her! 

Andrea supposed that was the big perk of having a rich, connected daddy. Even the most moronic and bigoted statements found an audience eager to please, if only for the unspoken promise of future gifts, recommendations, networking opportunities. Shit, even the dean might sweep the whole thing under the rug just to please her family. Andrea could feel the rage building up inside her chest, making her almost sick. Part of it was the stench of injustice that surrounded the whole deal. But most of her anger was directed at herself. It wasn’t as if any of this was new to her: she had come out in highschool. Every insult and every joke and every slur had been thrown at her a thousand times over already. 

But… college was supposed to be different. Even the teachers that saw the abuse in her younger years had told her so. It will get better. You’ll get out of here, and in college all this will be a distant memory. That hope had kept her going even as everyone forgot her name and simply called her “The Dyke” her entire senior year. But those were kids. Kate was a fucking adult. And yet, bigotry seemed to have no expiration date.

Fuck. The bullying wasn’t even fucking accurate! Andrea had been openly bi for years, but apparently the nuances of sexual orientation were irrelevant when it came to making one person the butt of every facile joke, a stepping stone to get some sweet, addicting attention. And Kate loved nothing more than attention. Good, bad, who cared? As long as the spotlight was on her, whatever hole she had in what she called a soul was temporarily filled. Fucking go to therapy, you cunt! Did daddy not hug you enough? Used dollars as a substitute for affection? Boo-hoo. It didn’t justify a goddamn thing.  

Andrea took a deep breath and managed to get up. Her Social Psych lecture was about to start, and Andrea knew she would skip it, even if she tried to fool herself for a moment, to force her legs to walk towards the classroom. Step by step, she headed for her dorm room. Fuck. Another absence. Kate was even fucking up her academic life. But what could Andrea do? Go to the professor and explain that, sorry, I couldn’t make it because the rich girl made fun of me?

She threw herself on the bed with punishing force. A miniature form of self-harm, she figured. Sometimes she hated majoring in psychology: that little voice that analyzed her actions almost made her feel like she was performing her suffering, rather than feeling it fully. And that distancing might also be a defense mechanism. Well, shit. How does one turn their brain off?

Andrea felt a pang in her chest, a familiar longing for home. Sure, it wasn’t a perfect place and money was always tight. Sure, her mother had vanished when she was barely one year old. Sure, the old place was in dire need of repairs and an update. But it was home. Of course, she knew she was lying to herself by omission. She was trying not to think of the one person that made it a home, and inevitably, in trying to suppress the idea, it came to her twice as strong. Daddy. Her father was her home, and it made her feel childish, helpless, as if she was ten and running to him whenever things went poorly. That her mind still went to him filled her with shame.

Oh, bullshit. You know damn well why you don’t want to think about him.

She couldn’t tell when it had happened, exactly. It had been something slow, growing inside her, indirectly pushing her subconscious. If she looked back at her dating history, a pattern emerged, one hidden at the time but blindingly obvious in retrospect: similar to dad, similar to dad… and then, when an errant comment by a friend (“All I’m saying is, like, for an old guy… you’re dad is kinda hot”) opened her eyes, she swerved in an attempt to escape her feelings. Different from dad, different from dad… The problem with “different from dad” was, of course, that those guys were, well, different from her dad. 

The summer before college had been the worst. She did her best to be home as little as possible.

Before she knew it, twin emotions were boiling over inside her. The first made her feel sick to her stomach, made her muscles tense up, made her breathing shallow and quick, as if she was about to leap and bite some animal’s neck. It was rage, pure and shining, clad with the garment of a righteous need for justice. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fucking fair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. That fucking bitch. She needs to suffer. She needs to be punished. She needs to fucking learn some humility. And at the same time, the second feeling snuck up on her, traveling in the shadow of the first, mingling with it until they became one, like snakes mating. Dad. She needs to suffer, dad. Make her suffer for me. Please. Please, daddy. Do this for me and I’ll… 

Andrea snapped back to reality, horrified. She moved her hand from between her legs, not even knowing when she had started playing with herself. Fuck, she was soaked. Shame almost brought her to tears, until Kate’s sneering face popped back in her mind. She had endured enough for one day. She had earned a little bit of fantasy. Just that. It wasn’t as if she’d ever do anything about… well, anything. But she could imagine, couldn’t she? She wasn’t that much of a coward- she could dare to imagine Kate, and dad, and… 

Fuck it. Who cared if it was wrong. She needed release.

Andrea let her hand go back between her legs.

II - The Call

Mike found himself staring at his phone. His morning coffee had gotten cold, but he took a sip anyway, almost as an automatic action. He couldn’t stop playing the conversation back in his head over and over.

“Dad, I’m on my way. I need your help. I… I’ll explain…”

“Andrea, are you okay? What happened?”

“I… I’ll be there in about an hour. I kinda… I don’t want to talk over the phone. Dad, I�� nevermind. We’ll talk when I get there.”

And that had been it. No clues, no hint, nothing to guide him except the tone in his daughter’s voice. She was scared, and she was suffering, and that was all that he needed to know. Whatever it was that was harming her girl, he’d move Heaven and Earth to make it better. That much he knew, deep in his heart. Still, he couldn’t stop picturing the worst possible scenarios.

He tried to remain calm. Sexual assault on college campuses is… 

Mike pushed the thought away.  

Restrictions on reproductive rights have…

Snippets of news stories slapped him. The world could be a terrifying place for a young woman. But that was why they had chosen a college close to home. So Andrea could always come to him if she needed help. And she clearly needed help. Stay focused, old man. She needs you to be strong. Don’t let her see you panic. 

He needed to be strong for her. That was all he always wanted to be, more than anything: a rock, a place of stability, a North Star for the one thing that mattered in his life. They had faced the world together. They had survived poverty together. They had endured the pain of an absent mother and wife together. They had managed a retrograde high school that tormented Andrea together. She had saved his life as much as he had fostered hers. Without his girl, Mike wasn’t sure where he would be- perhaps underground. She had been the reason to dig deep, to find strength, to endure, always. 

Don’t let her see you panic.

Don’t let her see you looking at her.

He shook the intrusive thought off. Andrea needed him, not his fucked up neuroses, not the secret shame the last months of living together had awakened in him.

One hour stretched into a year, and Mike practically leaped out the door as soon as he heard the car pulling over. The first thing he noticed was his daughter’s panicked face, and that alone was enough to make his heart feel like it was about to burst out of his chest. The second thing he noticed was the other girl, passed out in the passenger’s seat. Andrea rushed into his arms, and he held her tight, trying to will some degree of peace into her mind. First things first.

“Are you okay?”, he asked.

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine.”, Andrea sobbed.

Good. Now to do what he did best: fix things.

“Ok, so, your friend…”

“She’s not my friend.”

“What did she take? Did you take anything? Look, I’m not… I won’t get mad, I just need to know what she may have taken… is it just booze? No, couldn’t be… Benzos? Or… Christ, I don’t know what you guys take these days in college…”

“Dad! She didn’t take anything!”

“Are you sure? Maybe she went into some bathroom and did something… okay. First things. We need to call an ambulance…”

“Dad, please! Listen to me! I’ll explain everything. But we need to get her inside before anyone sees-”

“Andrea, this girl is passed out! She needs medical attention! Who knows what-”

“I know what she took because I gave it to her, okay? She’s just asleep! And she should be asleep for… maybe another couple of hours. Daddy, please… I swear I’ll explain. Just help me get her into the house, okay?”

Mike felt dumbfounded. The idea that his Andrea had roofied some other girl was so distant from his image of her, from the girl he had raised, that the contradiction felt impossible to resolve. It was a paralyzing feeling, one he couldn’t entirely put into words. All he knew was he didnt like it one bit. He was a man of action. He needed to do things, more than ponder feelings. And the thing to do, if only to escape that horrid sensation, was to get the poor girl out of the car.

They dragged Kate into the house, and laid her down on Andrea’s bed- a task that, Mike noticed, his daughter undertook with less care than he would have liked. Back in the living room, he looked at his daughter and put on his best stern face. Stern was good. It hid other ideas that came into his mind when he looked directly at Andrea.

“Explain.”

Andrea broke down in tears.

“Daddy, that girl… Kate.. she’s… she’s making my life Hell! She tortures me every day, makes fun of me, spreads rumors about me… people think… I don’t even know what they think about me anymore. So I can’t make any friends. Just like high school. It’s the same damn thing! And they all said… you said college would be different! But it’s not! Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’m just… I don’t know. Broken. Maybe people can smell I’m weird, or weak, or… and they know they can abuse me and mock me and… It’s not fair! And I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t thinking straight… I just put a couple of pills in her tea, and… I freaked out. I needed to feel safe, and I feel safe here… with you.”

Mike took it all in. He had to admit the sight of his precious daughter in such despair was enough to pierce any ideas of being tough he might have. And yes, it wasn’t fair. The world wasn’t fair at all. Andrea was beautiful, smart, creative… but there would always be those people who couldn’t understand someone being different, loving who they loved, being their authentic self. He got the anger. He got the frustration. He hated that Andrea had been driven to this point. But there was a big thing to address.

“Honey… I know… but you can’t just… just… kidnap someone!”

Andrea couldn’t help herself. She ran into her father’s arms, and hugged him tight.

“Daddy… I didn’t know what to do. I…”

She went silent. Mike couldn’t find the words to console her, to lecture her, to say anything at all. All he could do was feel the warmth of her body pressed against him, intuit her soft curves, take in the smell of her shampoo, her skin. It was intoxicating, and for once he let himself feel… whatever it was he was feeling. He let himself enjoy the moment, and even the sleeping girl in the bedroom seemed to fade away from his consciousness. They simply lingered, holding each other, taking it all in.

Such a moment couldn’t last. It shouldn’t last. Mike forced himself to speak, to say… whatever he could muster.

“What… I don’t know what you expect me to do…”

He felt Andrea’s hands on his back holding him tighter. He felt her warm breath on his ear, sending shivers down his spine as she whispered before the words even registered in his brain.

“Daddy… please… fuck her for me. Fucking rape the cunt… show her her place. Daddy… break her with your cock. For me.”

III - Persuasion 

Andrea couldn’t tell exactly what happened to her, what shifted within herself in that embrace, what dam had finally broken in her mind. Even as her father pushed her away with a horrified look on his face, she could see him- almost as if for the first time. A veil that had been dulling her sight for so, so long had finally vanished. Yes, she saw everything so clearly now, with such simple purity, devoid of fear or shame or silly excuses. It was a bizarre sensation, to finally be able to accept without doubt or hesitation the truth, so long buried.

She wanted to fuck him.

He wanted to fuck her.

So obvious. So simple. So powerful. Andrea wasn’t going to run away from it anymore. And she could see, under the mask of horror worn by her father, beneath the shock in his eyes, something else. Stirring. 

Suddenly, Andrea felt powerful. Immense. Sexy. In control. The fact that she had become one with her secret desires and he hadn’t brought a predatory joy to her chest… and something else, both an anger and a need. In her heart she could see not just what her father was but what he could be, what he could become, what he needed to be. She could almost smell it- the strong, conquering Man suffocated by the dull veneer of morality and social norms. Yes, she felt powerful- but she didn’t need to be strong. She needed to be taken by him. She needed to bring the beast forth, somehow. To make him see himself as she saw him. To make him see her as she wanted to be seen.

She smiled inside, even as her father almost recoiled from her. It was all a game, now. One she intended to win.

In the blink of an eye her entire demeanor, her posture, the way she looked at her father shifted. For a second she was the perfect picture of innocence, of a young woman in need of rescue.

“Daddy… please… I need your help. Won’t you help your little girl? I promise I’ll be good. I’ll be so… so good to you, Daddy. I’ll be your good little girl. Your obedient… slutty… little daughter”, she smiled as she took one step towards her father, her body now swaying like a cat slowly approaching its prey. She took a moment to delight in the confusion in her father’s eyes, the tension increasing almost to a breaking point.

“I… what are you…”, managed to mumble Mike. Oh, it was so pathetic it became cute.

“Daddy… you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me recently? It must be so, so hard for you… to see your little girl all grown up, and you all alone… that’s not fair, is it?”, said Andrea as she closed the distance with her now paralyzed father. Oh, this was too much fun. “You have been a bad daddy in your mind, haven’t you? That sounds so painful! Knowing it’s soooo wrong to think about your little girl like that… having to pretend you don’t want to… Fuck. Your. Daughter. Oh daddy, don’t blush! Surprised to hear such naughty words coming from my cute mouth? Or… do you like me having such a potty mouth?”

Andrea, in a swift motion ran her hand over her father’s crotch. Yes. She could feel it. So hard. So warm. She was right. He was breaking.

“Feels like your daddy cock likes me talking like a dirty slut! Don’t be ashamed! I love to imagine your cock getting so hard for me… I love to know I can make it so, so happy… And only using my words! Just talking like the hopeless little fucking whore I am… for you… just knowing you can use my tight holes whenever you want… however you want… and I’ll take it like a good girl! I am your good girl, daddy. You made me, after all… you own me… you can own every inch of my slutty, smooth body…”

Suddenly, she took a step back, her eyes almost in tears. She was the very picture of anguish, of despair, of vulnerability. Mike opened his mouth to speak, but he found no words came to him. He just watched, fighting his need to hug her, to protect her, to tell her he would make everything right again.

“Daddy… I’m so sorry… I don’t know what got into me. I just feel so confused, so disoriented, and… I don’t know. It’s like I have all these feelings inside me and they get all mixed up and I can’t really tell what I feel anymore, and it hurts so much. It hurts, Daddy. And that girl… Kate… I can’t tell you how much she’s hurt me, how she has been messing with my mind and making me so miserable… and… and I guess, I’m not sure, just… I thought you could help me, Daddy. You always could help me. You always could make me feel like everything would be okay, that I wasn’t a freak, or…”

“Honey, you are not a freak! You know this. You’ve been so brave, so strong, so true to yourself, even when everyone gave you grief over it!” He couldn’t help himself anymore. He held his sweet girl in his arms.

“But I… I did a bad thing, Daddy. I brought Kate here… I couldn’t think of anything else to do to make her stop, to make her leave me alone…”

“I know. And yes, you did a… wrong thing. But that doesn’t make you a monster, or evil or anything like that, okay? We’ll… I’ll find a way… I’ll help you. I’ll… fix it, somehow.”

“Will you rape her for me? Will you punish her with your cock for hurting your little girl? I’ll be so, so good for you if you do it, daddy… I’ll be the bestest daughter ever for you!”

Mike tried to pull away before he was interrupted by the sensation of warm, soft lips on his own. Time stopped. He felt dizzy, trapped in the feeling, the scent of skin, the rush of adrenaline in his chest. He panicked as he realized he didn’t stop it in time. He didn’t stop it as time stretched. He wasn’t stopping it even as the thoughts flooded his mind. It took Mike every ounce of willpower to push his daughter away.

Oh, it was so fun to see her Daddy so confused, so aroused, so disoriented. But Kate would wake up soon. Andrea needed to land the killing blow on whatever resistance her dear dad had left.

“I’m sorry Daddy… it’s just that I love you so, so much…” One slow, seductive step towards him. “I was bad, Daddy. I shouldn’t have done that, right? Does that make me a bad girl? A bad daughter?” Another step. So close now. “I’m so, so sorry for being bad, Daddy. I’m sorry I made your cock all hard for me and teased you and used all those dirty, dirty words. Will you punish me, Daddy? Will you make me good again, show me my place? I think you should. I think you should take your cock, and-”

One final step, and Mike snapped. For the first time in his life, he slapped his daughter. Horror set on his face, and it became a mixture of bewilderment and fire when he noticed Andrea’s reaction. She was smiling.

“Mmmmh… so strong, Daddy. Do it again. Punish me. Show me you own me. Make me your bitch!”

It was over for Mike. Something primal, something awful had taken hold of him. 

His hand on her neck. Hers rubbing his cock over his pants. Her soft moans. Kisses that turned into bites. His own mumbled, jumbled words. Little cunt. Evil fucking bitch. Her words, playing off his. Your little cunt. Your good little girl. Her face against the wall. Her movements, grinding her ass against him. Her hands on his chest, pushing him back. 

So many lines crossed. Mike knew, deep down, he had broken something inside himself. Or maybe she had broken it in him. It didn’t matter. He looked down at the beautiful, perfect woman kneeling and smiling. He saw his daughter, yes, but his eyes were now different. The barrier that kept the idea of “daughter” and “sex” apart simply didn’t exist anymore. He felt adrift, caught by a whirlwind he couldn’t stop- one he didn’t want to stop. 

Victory. It looked like victory. Victory over herself, over her old fears. Victory over his attempts at doing the “right thing”. Further victory to come, as well. And it didn’t hurt that the cock that made her was a rather large one, veiny and beautiful. He tried to keep herself in check. She knew exactly what to do, which went against everything her body was screaming for her to do. No matter how much she needed to feel that cock deep inside her pussy, no matter how much she longed to taste his cum on her tongue, she would have to wait. She couldn’t risk some post nut clarity throwing further objections to her plan. She kept her mind on Kate as she licked, kissed, loved his member. She was alert, ready to stop before he went over the edge. She did let one hand slide between her legs- just a treat, and a bit of a show for Daddy. She took him deep in her throat, deeper than anyone she’d ever blown. He deserved it. He was her one true love. 

She did manage to stop herself when she felt him getting close, heard his moans getting stronger.

She stood up and simply, gently, gave his Daddy her soaked hand for him to smell. It was a promise of the pleasures to come… if he did as she asked, as she needed him to. She could see it in his eyes. He had been unleashed. Andrea smiled, and with a moan sucked her fingers clean, keeping her green eyes fixed on her Daddy’s gaze.

Punishment would finally come to the one that had wronged her.

IV - Melody of Madness

Slowly, Kate started to regain her consciousness. It was a gradual thing, messy, disoriented. The first thing she noticed was a scent- the kind of smell that tells one they’re no longer home, but in a place inhabited for years by some unknown Other. Her body felt heavy, sluggish, weighed down. She wasn’t afraid, not at that point. She was too out of it to register such an emotion.

Only when her vision cleared a bit and her body started to feel more like her own did the true horror begin. She tried to remain calm. Okay, Kate. Just… try to figure things out. You’re in a bedroom. A girl’s room, judging by the decor. Shit, did you get wasted again? Wait, no… a room, yes, but not a dorm room. Bigger than the dorms. Oh, fuck. Did I party in town? Did I black out and some random girl decided to help me?

A part of her screamed. Assuming that this was just another regrettable morning after too much liquor was only a pleasant delusion, and she knew it. As painful as it might be, she would have to face another possibility. What was the last thing she remembered? She was getting up, ready for class… then she was picking up her morning coffee… a bitter taste, more than usual, and then… nothing. 

Kate needed to get out. Wherever she was, it was not where she wanted to be, that much she knew. She’d have time to figure things out later. First, get out of bed, and then…

She couldn’t. She was bound to the bed by improvised ropes made of sheets. Her legs were open, held in place. She noticed the way the air felt on her skin. She was in her underwear. This final fact froze her for half a minute- thirty seconds that felt like an eternity. 

Finally, she screamed.

“Shut the fuck up, or things will get very, very messy for you. And I don’t want to ruin my sheets, thank you very much.”

The voice was calm. Cold, yet expressing a hint of anticipation. And it was a voice Kate would never have expected to hear in that place, not in a million years.

“Andrea?”

“Oh, I’m ‘Andrea’ today? Are you sure you don’t mean to call me one of your usual nicknames? No ‘dyke’? No ‘carpet muncher’? No ‘cunt licker’? Isn’t it interesting, how something as simple as a little bit of metal and a few sheets are enough to teach you manners?”

Metal? Kate lifted her head as much as she could. There was Andrea, holding a knife. Shit. Shit. Shit. That little, insignificant bitch! And what was it with the outfit? Black lingerie, full face of make-up, devilishly sharp stiletto heels… Kate had never seen the stupid dyke looking anything like a real woman. Huh. So she had curves hidden under her usual baggy hoodies. Good for her. But she was still a fucking loser, and Kate knew how to handle losers.

“What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch? Let me go, now! What the hell are you thinking? People will hear…”

“Oh, don’t make a sound. I don’t want my father to…”

“Really? You brought me to your own home? You really are that stupid, huh? Let’s see what your dad thinks of his dyke daughter when she sees what you’ve done! Help! Sir, please! In your daughter’s room!”

Steps stomping outside. A man entered the room. Finally. Victory! Now the crazy dyke would get what was coming to her, and Kate would have a brand new story to bury the little cunt’s reputation even further. Maybe even hold the possibility of jail over her head.

“Andrea! What the hell is this? What are you doing?”, the man said, suitably shocked.

“Daddy! I’m so sorry! I… I just…”

“Didn’t I tell you to let me know as soon as she woke up?”

“You did. Sorry, Daddy. I’ve been a naughty little girl… will you punish me later?”

“Later, yes. Now we have work to do, don’t we, baby girl?”

“Yes we do, Daddy!” she chirped before giving in to a long, deep kiss with the man.

What. The. Fuck.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”, laughed Andrea. “Did you think he would help you? Kate, Kate… Ignorant as always. For one, I’m not a dyke, I’m bi- not that you care, but I figured a little education can’t hurt. And another thing about me: I have the bestest Daddy in the whole world! And my Daddy would do anything for me, because I’m his perfect, slutty good girl… and he’s very, very good at training good girls! Well, maybe ‘training’ isn’t the right word. How about… ‘breaking’? You know, like a horse! And we’ll make you such a good, good girl!”

Panic set in.

“Crazy! You’re both fucking crazy!”

Kate squirmed, a scream dying in her throat as Andrea crawled on the bed, swaying like a terrible feline, giving her dad a marvelous show. She lightly touched the inside of Kate’s thighs as she made her way up… before flashing the knife in front of the poor captive’s eyes.

“If I were you”, cooed Andrea, “I’d be very, very still for this part.”

Kated hated that her body seemed to instinctively do as the fucking dyke told. She froze, every muscle locked tight. She closed her eyes, and prayed to no deity in particular. Please. Please. Make it stop.

Kate shuddered as she felt something cold barely grazing her, almost between her legs. Terrible images flashed inside her mind. I might die here. A second later, she felt air caressing her private areas. She opened her eyes, only to see Andrea’s mad smile as she held the remains of Kate’s panties in her hand, skillfully cut off her body. 

“Not the sexiest of panties, I must say. I’m a bit disappointed! But…” Andrea brought the panties to her nose and took a deep, gratifying sniff. “There’s something alluring there. Oh! You’ve never had the pleasure of smelling a nice cunt, have you? No, you’re so very, very straight… you’d never do that, right? Well, you’ve been missing out. Time to fix that.”

Andrea carefully, almost lovingly, tied the panties around Kate’s face. Every breath now was an assault, a reminder of how powerless she was. A humiliation.

“Better get used to it, you stuck-up slut. You’ll be tasting the real thing soon enough. But…” Andrea leaped off the bound body of her foe. “What am I thinking? You’re straight! So, I take it you’d enjoy a big, hard cock more than my… dyke attentions, won’t you? Well, how about some Daddy cock? Won’t you love that? I know you will.”

Andrea skipped, child-like to her father. He was watching the scene before him, almost panting. A beast ready to be unleashed.

“Look!” chirped Andrea. “He’s so, so hard for you already! You should be flattered! Well, no point delaying the inevitable, I say. Ready to feel this big cock ramming into that tight pussy, you bitch?”

“No… no, please, don’t… I’ll… I’m sorry for… for everything! Please, please, please…”

“A little late for that, you evil cunt! Now get ready to be used like the fucking cumrag you are!”

Kate tensed up and shut her eyes hard enough to make them hurt. She braced herself for pain, for agony. She tried to somehow make her mind escape somewhere, anywhere else. Wasn’t that something that happened in these situations? Some sort of protective dissociation? And yet her mind was nailed in place, as stuck to the bed as her body. She waited, shaking… and nothing happened.

“How rude of me!”, mocked Andrea. “I almost made my daddy take that pussy dry! That would hurt a lot! I could help with that situation, you know… but you’re not a filthy pervert like me, that likes cock and pussy alike… so… I have to say, I’m a bit conflicted! Wouldn’t want to make you a dyke against your will! But you can choose. Dry or dyke? Huh? Too shy to speak now, you cunt? Answer me! Dyke. Or. Dry.”

Kate couldn’t believe her ears. An image of the knife flashed in her mind. Fear took hold. Feel of pain, primal, deep. The promise of less pain seemed like an imperative, and her mouth spoke before she could stop it.

“Dyke…” she mumbled.

“Sorry? I couldn’t quite hear that”, saud Andrea.

“Dyke! Dyke! Dyke, goddamn you!”

“She’s out! She’s loud! She’s proud! Welcome to the club, sister! Now relax and let me introduce you to a brand new world…”

It felt gross. It felt odd. Kate tried to reframe it. It’s just lubrication. It’s just making it easier for later. It means nothing. It’s just a tongue. It’s just…

Andrea was good. Extremely so. She took pride in her oral skills and was using all her talents, all her tricks on Kate. Not because she wanted the little bitch to feel good: simply because she knew that pleasure would make her suffer as much as the pain to come. Every involuntary thrust of Kate’s hips, every muffled moan that escaped her lips was a step towards conquest… and Andrea felt like a warlord, like a terrible goddess exacting just revenge…

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she giggled. “But we can’t have you cumming like that… not when dear Daddy has been so, so patient!”

Fear crept from beneath the disgust Kate felt with herself. A part of her had enjoyed it, and she hated herself for it. Her body was starting to betray her, and that, more than anything, was terrifying. But now the pain would come. She knew that for a fact.

“Daddy, my sweet, sweet Daddy… break the cunt”, said Andrea.

“Please… don’t…” managed to mutter Kate.

It was in vain.

It did hurt. The man was a beast, savage, thrusting into Kate without the slightest care for her pleasure or comfort, using her body like an object to take out all his messed up frustrations, his fantasies, whatever was mixed up in the storm inside his brain. Kate whimpered and yelped and tried not to scream. And in her ear, a warm breath, whispering to her constantly.

“Good girl… won’t you cry for me? Like you made me cry so many times? You fucking slut… don’t fight it… you know what you are, deep down… don’t you miss my sweet tongue on your cunt? Relax… let it happen… you deserve this… and I’ve earned it… your pain… and what you will be for me later… when the pain is gone…”

Part of her mind was aware enough to realize Andrea was rubbing herself right beside her. But most of her mind was focused on the sensation between her legs, the burning, the feeling she was being torn apart… and something worse, slowly creeping its way into the strange mixture assaulting her consciousness. Andrea saw it immediately.

“It’s better now, isn’t it? You can feel it… it’s okay. You don’t have to lie. Not to me. We are sisters now, after all. I, made by the cock that is remaking you! It’s so… poetic, isn’t it? You are a slut. You’ve always been a slut, deep down… all you needed was someone to prove to you that a slut is all you need to be. All you deserve to be. No more queen bee at college for you! And I know you will be such a good little girl for Daddy…”

“Fuck… fuck you…”

“Oh, you’ll get to do that too! Want a taste?”

Andrea started slowly, kissing Kate’s neck, nibbling it, giving her victim goosebumps. Then she delicately removed her bra, and lips met sensitive skin. Kate’s nipples, hard against her will, were assaulted by kisses, suction, skillful licks. Andrea toyed with Kate, varying the pressure, the speed of her tongue, inserting playful little bites into the game. Measuring. Learning. Deciphering every preference, every weak point. To Kate’s horror, the pain was starting to feel duller, as if coming from far away. The pleasure, on the other hand, was sharper, demanding, a hungry thing coming from her own traitorous body. It was hard to think. Hard to keep any single idea in frame inside her mind. Too many stimuli, coming from too many places, attacking different parts of her idea of self. She felt as if she was drowning in sensation.

Andrea made her way down, slowly, as her father’s thrusts became a bit slower. Stamina wasn’t infinite, but she was quite confident that together they could get the job done. Together, they could do anything. It took a bit of careful positioning, but soon the tip of her tongue was able to tease the little cunt’s clit and even give her dear Daddy a little extra lick when he pulled his beautiful cock out, only to ram it into Kate again. Oh, if only this moment could last forever. Father and daughter locked eyes for a moment, in something that felt like a twisted perversion of love. It was time to move on to the next step.

Kate couldn’t stop squirming. Couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t stop her fucking body from reacting to the big cock inside her, the tongue playing her pussy like a violin, her own shame turned into a corruption of pleasure, disgust with herself that swirled and shifted and somehow enhanced the feelings that were eroding her sanity. And then, it snuck up on her.

Kate came, harder than ever in her life. Any pretense was undone at that moment. Her body was too honest. But the fucked up father and daughter team didn’t stop. No, they paused for only a second or two before resuming their work. It was too much. Kate shook as she came again. And again. And again.

She was exhausted. Too exhausted to fight anymore. Too confused to protest anything Andrea said. Her words just permeated, unfiltered, into Kate’s mind.

“...tell you? You can be such a good little whore… and we can be Daddy’s sluts together! Don’t you think he deserves it? His cock made you cum so much… your pain gave it so much pleasure… it owns you now. And you’ll love it, I know you will. We’ll make you love it so, so much, until you forget what a fucking bitch you were before…”

Kate didn’t even notice when the restraints were removed. There were stronger ones in place now, and she could feel them. Inside her head. She had been defeated. She had been conquered. She had surrendered.

“On all fours”, Daddy said. He didn’t have to say it twice. Kate complied. 

“Word on campus is that your little ass is the one hole you’ve been saving up for someone special! Well, I say you’ve met someone very special! So now Daddy will take the last bit of you and you’ll finally be entirely his! Isn’t that exciting? But… what about your poor fellow slut? I mean, I gave you pleasure too! I say I deserve a treat. So… you get pain for Daddy and he gets to watch you eat a pussy for the first time! What a show it will be! And we’ll make it a show, won’t we, sis?”

Yes. Whatever Andrea said. It was easier to comply. Easier to obey. Easier to just accept. It would hurt. Good. If her pain was what they wanted, they would have it. She would have sex with another girl. Good. If they wanted her to dyke out, she would. 

Kate’s screams sent vibrations through Andrea’s pussy, only making Kate’s inexperienced attempts at eating her out so much more delicious. Andrea felt like a queen, being serviced as she deserved. Mike was a beast, finally letting out something that had been suppressed in shame for far too long. Kate let her body take over, turning even pain into something else, something like purpose, or atonement. In a single day, all three had changed. Forever.

The tight, virgin ass, paired with the spectacle of this girl pleasuring his sweet little girl sent Mike over the edge. He barely managed to pull out before cumming with an intensity that shocked even himself. Kate’s back was soaked, and some drops had even landed on his own daughter’s breasts. 

Andrea licked her lips.

“Kate… sis… why don’t we clean each other up for Daddy?”

V - Epilogue

Mike woke up to the sensation of tongues on his cock, as was the norm. He let himself relax and sink into pleasure. To think that half a year ago, the idea of even looking at his daughter had felt revolting! How silly he had been. They loved each other. They made each other their best versions of themselves. Their most perverted versions. 

And Kate… how lovely it had all been. Sure, it had taken a little while for her to fully enter the family, but now she and her adoptive sister were inseparable. They went shopping for slutty outfits, they did their camshows together to make Daddy money… they had even made out in front of the Dean when they announced they were dropping out of college to be full-time whores. It was tender, in a way. Kate’s addiction to pain and humiliation had come as a bit of a surprise, but a welcome one- especially by Andrea, who had started to explore her sadistic side more and more.

Of course, they both adored Daddy. They were always ready, always willing to please him. After far too many years of gray, dull effort and solitude, Mike felt happy. He let himself enjoy that fact.

After he came, the girls licked each other clean, moaning as they savored their Daddy’s cum. With bright smiles, they leaped on the bed with Mike.

“Good morning, Daddy!” they said in unison.

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Every bit helps!

[allfearstofallto]

College au is so delicious bc you can have Childe having to deal with the fact that you don't like him. Whether it be his sus vibes or how...dead his eyes look, you just don't like him. So you avoid him like the plague to save the both of you from any trouble.

But the thing is, he likes you and he's sure he can make you feel the same way about him. You'll come around, he's sure of it.

Just Childe engaging in pest behavior is all I can think about for this au

-🐇

Writing Childe without his power and assets is so goddamn challenging, but also so fun!

He's such a pest though. That pretty face can get him so damn far, I'm sure of it. I have to think about how easily I fell for Childe before it was revealed that he was super fucking evil, so obviously it wouldn't be hard for him to develop a pretty powerful influence with enough smiles.

Childe <3

College AU

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

You don't like Ajax? Or Childe as they called him. A stupid nickname, but one he apparently earned. Where he got it from to even who he was, you truly didn't care. You didn't like him and apparently that was a problem with everyone, but you.

You were okay with not having a relationship with him. The campus was big enough where you didn't have to see him if you didn't want to and you both studied different majors, although you put more time and effort into your study. He spent most of his energy on being the life of the party.

People didn't understand why you didn't like Ajax, apparently just saying that you found him creepy wasn't enough of an answer.The Ajax who made an effort to always invite you out? The Ajax who always wanted to walk you to and from classes even though you never told him your schedule? The Ajax who was the only person to buy you gifts for Valentine's, heart shaped, lavish chocolates and a bouquet bigger than your head, even though you weren't romantic with him? The Ajax that called and texted you at random hours of the night to “check on you” when you didn't give him your number? No. Not that Ajax. That Ajax wasn't creepy at all.

The worst part was his dead eyed stare. You wondered how people enjoyed his company when he had the eyes of someone with no true compassion, the eyes of someone who was obviously faking their emotion. Was everyone just pretending to not notice how his smile didn't reach his eyes, or had you truly gone crazy?

The dim, setting sunlight hit your note pages as you sat in the library to study, a typical thing for you to do when you had hours between your classes. And Ajax, the one who was failing almost every single class he took, decided to sit only a few tables over from you, pretending to be nose deep into a book for a course he didn't even take.

You could feel his eyes on you as you tried to focus on anything, but him. The books, the clocks, your phone, anything but him, where he sat unmoving. Why was today the day the library had to be empty? Where was everyone else who was supposed to be studying? Why were you alone with him, only a few tables between you.

A weight lifted off your shoulder when you heard someone stomping up the stairs to the library, calling his name loudly, “What are you doing here man? I didn't even think you knew what a library was!” they ostracized him while playfully smacking him on the back. They were obnoxiously loud, something that would've annoyed you any other day, but today you were grateful for their rudeness.

He was distracted. You could tell because you could no longer feel those eyes on you. This was your chance to scoop all of your books up and toss your bag over your shoulder, running out the door before he had the chance to notice you were gone. You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the cool autumn air against your skin eased you more than the tense air of the library.

It was worrisome how much more you'd been seeing him these past few days. More than usual and not in the coincidental way. It was like he always knew where you were going. You tried to brush the thought from your head as you walked to your next class, trying to focus on anything else, but that feeling was back. The feeling of eyes on you. And not just any eyes. Those dead eyes. He was nearby.

You stopped in your tracks and turned on your heels with your eyes closed. In your mind, you were silently praying that it was just the nerves and your mind was playing tricks on you. That it was making you imagine the feeling, but sure enough, there he was, messy orange hair, charming smile, and lifeless eyes.

“You're jumpy today,” he said playfully. You took a hesitant step back, but he still closed the distance between you, with little hassle. All it took was two steps from his long legs and suddenly you could smell his oaky cologne. He tossed an arm over your shoulder and pulled you back into his chest, “You left pretty quickly back there. I didn't even get to say hello.”

“Sorry,” you muttered beneath your breath. His baggy clothes hid it well, but he was built firmly beneath them, all muscle with little to no fat. He wasn't choking you with this arm, not yet, but you could feel his ability to. And it would be easy for him to do.

His orange hair tickled your cheeks as he leaned down to be closer to your face, “You didn't answer my text,” his voice just barely above a whisper, his tone playful, but you could feel the malice behind it. He was annunciating each syllable of each word, speaking slowly so you couldn't say you didn't hear him correctly.

“T-text?” You stuttered back. Which text? Ajax texted you all hours of the day and night. Was he actually taking your dry, one word answers as replies? Was what you were doing to try to push him away only making him push back harder?

With an arm still around your neck, his other hand trailed down your body. His fingertips traced every curve of your clothed person, until they landed on the hip. He took this time to squeeze and groped your lower body before slipping your phone out of your pocket and typed in your password.

The blood drained from your face while you watched him scroll through your apps. No one knew your password. No one. Yet he typed it in like it was a regular occurrence for him.

“Didn't even save my number,” he whined, “Don't worry, I've got you.”

His name was changed from a string of numbers to “Childe <3” not giving you the chance to protest.

“You really are a bad girlfriend,” he muttered again, not caring about your lack of a response to him. Girlfriend? Since when were you his girlfriend? You felt like you were spinning in place and your head just felt so heavy. He was saying everything so casually, like you were supposed to agree with it, like you were the one who was wrong.

“Ajax, I think you've misunderstood something,” you said a little too quickly, but your lungs felt like they couldn't get any air in them.

It seemed like he ignored your words completely as he continued to scroll through his messages to you, where he was practically talking to himself, “See? Right here. I asked to take you out for coffee,” he held the screen up to your face.

Sure enough, he had. But you never responded and that text was quickly swallowed up by the myriad of other texts he'd sent you. His flirty messages were ignored by you, more often than not you only replied out of what felt like obligation and fear. Anyone who said you were lucky to have the oh so popular Ajax crushing on you, obviously didn't look into those empty eyes enough.

He sighed and using that arm around your shoulders, began to drag you in the opposite direction from where you were going. You tried to stop him and pull away, but his strength only made you stumble over your own steps, falling into his arms.

“Where are you taking me?” Fear was laced in your words as you continued to struggle in his grasp, but he didn't stagger.

“Coffee.” He spoke with ease as he continued to drag you along with him, that well built, muscled arm shifted ever so slightly to your neck and starting to choke, “I think we need to talk.”

[myungjaes-luvv]

I was thinking about bully! Sunghoon or Jay

One day he gets too angry and horny and decides to fuck you in an empty classroom or a bathroom stall! >_<

wow what a BANGER idea🫠anyway i wrote jay for this one hope you like it!

warnings: jay kind of forces himself on reader but it’s consensual anyway, the nickname ‘doll,’ semi-public?, unprotected sex (but its not explicitly mentioned), kind of rushed towards the end because i lost motivation oops

hard hours + requests: open (bnd, enha, &team)

the sound of the school bell rang through the halls as students scramble to get to their next class. you carefully zip your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, leaving the classroom to get to your last class of the day. at least today was almost over.

you kept to yourself mostly, having a bad tendency of looking at the floor as you walked, avoiding any and all eye contact. you also zoned out…a lot.

you were mid thought, wanting to go home already, to leave this hell on earth when-

“shit- sorry!” you apologized frantically, your notebook flying out of your hands and onto the floor. you didn’t even know who you were apologizing to until you looked up.

fuck.

of all the people you could have ran into, it had to be him.

“watch where you’re going, christ,” jay scoffed at you, watching you kneel down to pick your notebook up.

“sorry…i wasn’t looking-” you tried, but he cut you off.

“yeah, obviously. fucking klutz,” he rolled his eyes as you stood back up.

you went to walk past him to carry on from this horrible interaction but he had blocked you, putting his arm in front of you and pushing you back.

“hey- wait, what are you doing?” you asked him.

you looked up at him, making eye contact with him, confused, and maybe a little scared.

“i think it’s about time i finally put you in your goddamn place,” he scoffed at you.

you were about to protest or ask a question but you didn’t have time to even gather your thoughts before he was shoving you backwards into a dark and empty room, shutting the door behind the both of you.

“what the fuck are you doing jay?” you asked, more scared of your bully now than you ever have been before.

“easy, doll,” he said, sounding way too calm for the situation he has you in.

he soon enough had you backed to the wall, his hands on your hips as your bodies were impossibly close.

this was…weird, and wrong. so incredibly wrong…but why was it so incredibly hot.

you could feel his breath against your skin as his lips just barely grazed over your neck.

“jay what are you-” you tried, but were cut off when he pressed a harsh kiss to your lips. your eyes were wide open as you tried pushing him away, still confused out of your mind as to what was happening.

“damnit, i said i’m putting you in your place, can’t you listen to me?” he said, his voice low.

as if your body had a mind of it’s own, you nodded. why on earth did you nod.

it wasn’t long before he began to palm at your clothed core, you could feel the heat radiating off of you as you bit back a whine.

“wanted you for so long…” he said, hooking his finger into the waistband of your pants and pulling down.

“gonna finally take what’s mine, right, doll?” he asked, though you knew it wasn’t a question you were meant to answer.

his finger slipped between your folds, made easy by how wet you had become. you cursed your body for being so willing for him, feeling as though you had betrayed yourself.

you whined softly as he leaned in close to your ear, “all that because of me?” he teased.

you had a dying urge to push him off of you, but something inside was screaming to let him keep going.

he played with you for what felt like ages before he finally slipped a finger into your entrance, making your legs nearly buckle.

“already needing my help to stand?” he asked, his free hand on your hip to help support you.

you bit back another whine, “fuck…” you said beneath your breath.

he removed his finger, causing you to whine. it wasn’t long before he grabbed your waist and pushed you over one of the desk’s.

he sucked in a sharp breath as he put your ass on display for him, feeling you up. his cock was practically aching to be let free from his pants.

he palmed himself through the material before shuffling his pants down enough to let his dick free from the restraint.

he rubbed himself against your folds, causing you to whine, and not a thought of stopping him was in your mind, so desperate for his cock and you hadn’t even known until now.

“jay, please…” you whimpered.

“that’s right, beg for it,” he said in a low voice.

“please, need you so bad…” you begged him.

he finally slipped inside of you slowly at first.

you gripped the edge of the desk, feeling your legs threaten to give out as he entered you from behind.

he let out a shaky breath himself, “your pussy feels so tight around me, doll…” he commented, starting to push himself in and out of you.

the noises you had started to let out reminded jay of those from a porno, high pitched, whiny, and so fucking hot.

you couldn’t help but start to try and match his pace, fucking yourself back against him. he held your hips and used you for support, driving himself deeper inside of you.

your eyes rolled back as he moved a hand to the front of your pussy and began to rub at your clit.

“gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock,” he teased, speeding his hips up.

you couldn’t even answer or get a thought straight.

“got you so fucked dumb you can’t even speak, so cock hungry,” he said under his breath.

you could feel yourself getting so close, and you craved your release so desperately.

“jay- oh god- fuck…gonna-” you tried between moans.

“go ahead, cum for me, make a mess,” he told you.

after a few more thrusts, you were coming, your legs shaking, needing his full support to keep you up against the desk. he fucked you through it heavenly and as you clenched around him, he neared his release.

“gonna cum, holy shit,” he panted, fucking you roughly, causing your vision to white out.

he pulled out, fucking his fist to get himself to release before coming over your back and your ass, the sight almost enough to get him hard again.

the two of you caught your breath and cleaned yourselves up in almost complete silence, and before he left, you were about to make a comment until he spoke first.

“watch where you’re walking next time, klutz.”

[oreolemur]

Ok so how about a Megumi x female reader.... Where Megumi is a bully... He bullied the reader so much. But the reader Fears Megumi so much so she didn't tell anything to Megumi. Reader had a crush on Yuta. They weren't in a relationship but they liked each other so much... Megumi doesn't like it...cz he loves the reader but never tells anyone cz he loves to bully her.... So being jealous one day he raped the reader and made a video of it and send it to Yuta...

Here you go!!

Watching you from a distance, Megumi couldn’t stand to see you happy with Yuta. “That shit pisses me off”, he muttered. It wasn’t like the two of you were dating. You and Yuta have been best friends since elementary school, but as you both got older, you started to develop feelings for each other. “Wanna hang out this weekend?”, Yuta asked. “My roommate will be out of town. We can watch movies and binge on snacks”. He was always a sweet guy. “Sure, sounds fun”, you smiled, gathering your stuff as you began to head to your next class. “Alright, see you Saturday”, Yuta waved goodbye, going his separate ways. You watched him leave, blushing at the thought of having alone time with him. “Eek, I can’t wait!”. 

Once you made it to your next period, you sat down, sighing. “I hope he’s absent today”. You look at the classroom’s entrance, watching and waiting. “Please don’t be here. Please don’t be here”. You bite your nails, bouncing your leg. “Move your bag”, a voice said beside you. You were so focused on one entrance of the classroom that you forgot all about the other. You look next to you, seeing Megumi…your bully. “Move your goddamn bag”, he repeated. You quickly did, placing it on the floor. “I-I thought you weren’t coming today”, you said. Megumi took a seat next to you. “You’d like that wouldn’t you”, he responded. You knew you would actually. Megumi was always mean to you, taunting you however he saw fit. 

Even during lessons, he didn’t care about the fact that you were trying to learn. He would sharpen his pencil, stabbing you in the thigh with it. What made it worse was that you always wore dresses and skirts, so it was easy access for him. “Please stop”, you begged, on the verge of crying. Megumi could hear the pain in your voice. “If you cry I will do it harder”, he said, digging the sharp object into your skin. You clenched your fists, trying not to cry. Your bully heard you struggling as you took deep shaky breaths. “Tch, pathetic”. But that’s not the only thing he would do. When class ended, he would take it upon himself to trip you, making you fall. One day, you fell so hard your face hit your textbooks, causing your nose to bleed. 

You could never escape Megumi. He had you wrapped around his finger. You were his toy and he loved to play with you. Even when you thought it was ok to avoid him, he punished you for it. When he did hit you, he would beat you in places you could cover up. “You know what happens if you tell anyone about this right?”. He would threaten you, making you sure you kept quiet. You never understood what you could’ve done for him to treat you this way. “W-why do you hurt me?”. You asked that question often, but all he ever said was, “Because I want to”.

No matter how close you were with Yuta, you knew you would never have the courage to tell him. He was your safe space, a person that made you smile, and a shoulder to cry on. “He would be heartbroken hearing about this”. You always put on a smile around him, although some days you were in pain or depressed about your situation. No one could make you feel better than Yuta. Maybe that’s why you have feelings for him? “Are you ready to have fun with me tomorrow”, Yuta asked, walking you back to your dorm. “Of course I am”, you blushed. Seeing your face turn red, Yuta blushed as well. “D-did you pick a time for us to meet? I was thinking we could go out to eat first”, the man asked. Dinner with your crush? You were flustered, “Um…h-how about…7?”, you suggested. Yuta agreed to it. 

Once you reached your dorm, you hugged Yuta goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow”, you said. Before you could walk off, Yuta grabbed you by the arm, pulling you in. “What-”, he cut you off, smashing his lips onto yours. “How was that?”, he asked, shocked by his boldness. You blinked a few times as he left you speechless. “Did you not like it?”, he wondered. You shook your head. “N-No…I loved it”. You quickly pecked his lips, walking off. “See you tomorrow!”, you shouted. 

Opening the main entrance to your dorm, you ran into your bully. The two of you looked at each other in silence. “W-what are you doing here?”, you asked. Megumi continued to stare at you. He was furious, but didn’t show it. “Do you like him?”, he asked. You looked at him confused, “Who?”. He sucked his teeth, getting up. “You know who”, he said. “Do you like him…Yuta?”. You nod, “Y-yes, why?”. Megumi stood in front of you, staring into your eyes. He didn’t say anything…just looked. “What do you want?”, you questioned. He ignored your question, walking out of the building. You looked back at him, wondering what that was. “At least he didn’t hurt me”, you said. 

❤~The Next Day~❤

You spent the entire evening getting yourself ready to go out with Yuta. “I have to look my best”, you said looking into your closet for something cute to wear. “This will do”. You picked out a cute black skirt that was knee high. Then you chose a pink long sleeve with ribbons on it. You were so excited that it was hard to contain your happiness. “I can’t believe he kissed me”, you blushed. Having Yuta as your first kiss was a dream come true. “I’m glad he likes me back. Maybe he’ll ask me out”. You daydreamed about the two of you being together. A dream with just love and security…and no Megumi. Definitely no Megumi. You couldn’t help but think about the awkward run in you had with him yesterday. “What was his problem?”. You shook it off, focusing on getting ready. “Nothing will stand in the way of my happiness tonight”. 

Meanwhile Megumi was in his apartment, sitting on the couch.  He stared blankly at the TV which wasn’t even on. “She likes him”, he said. The man saw everything that happened between you and Yuta. “They kissed”. He was in his feelings. “She belongs to me”. Megumi loved you. But how could that be? He clenched his fists at the idea of you dating someone other than him. He wanted you. You were his and his only. It didn’t matter that all he does is hurt you. “She’s mine”. He got up from the couch, grabbing his keys. He decided it would be best to go for a nightly stroll to clear his head. 

❤~6:30pm~❤

You checked yourself in the mirror. “I look so cute”, you smiled. You applied some makeup to your face, adding any finishing touches to it. “Ok…done”. You grabbed your purse and phone, sending a text to Yuta that you’re on the way. You exited your room, heading down stairs. The moment you got to the main entrance, you saw Megumi standing there. It was like he was waiting for something…or someone. You slowly opened the door, wondering why he was there. “Megumi? W-why are you here?”. He took a step close to you, staring. “What do you-”, before you could finish, he slapped you. “Ow”. You rubbed your cheek, looking at him with tearful eyes. “Come with me”, he said. You shook your head, “I can’t I-”. He hit you again. “Come with me”, he repeated. Your cheek began to bruise. You held your face, looking down at the floor. Megumi watched you cry, feeling nothing. He stepped closer to you, grabbing your face. “When your boyfriend tells you to do something you do it”, he said.

You looked at him confused. “B-boyfriend?”, you paused. “We’re not even dating”. He grabbed your wrists, dragging you along with him. “Let's go”. You stumbled, trying to catch up with him. “Please let go of me”, you begged, attempting to pull your arm away from him. He gripped you tighter, digging his nails into your skin. You knew you were powerless against him, so you had no other choice but to follow him. He took you across campus to the apartments that were beside the university. “I hope he doesn’t beat me badly this time”, you hoped. Once he approached his front door, he opened it, pushing you inside. 

You jumped when his dogs began to bark at you. “Ignore them”, he said, guiding you to his bedroom. He ordered you to sit on the bed as he closed the door behind him. “Can we make this quick? I-I have somewhere important to be”, you stated. You took out your phone, looking at the time.”Give me your phone”, Megumi demanded. You didn’t want to. “Why?”, you asked. He walked up to you, snatching it out of your hand. “H-hey, come-”. He slapped you again, making the bruise even worse. “Please stop hitting me”, you begged. Megumi ignored you, unlocking your phone. “You think it’s ok to cheat on me?”, he said. The man kept confusing you. “Cheat? What are you talking about?”. Megumi scoffed, “You know exactly what I’m talking about”.

He was beyond delusional at this point. “I saw what you and Yuta did!”. You can see the anger in his eyes as he was starting to lose his composure. “He kissed you and-”, Megumi was cut off. A text from Yuta came through. “What does he mean “Are you still coming?”, the man asked. “W-we were supposed to hang out tonight”, you said. Megumi bawled his fists. “What!”. He grabbed you by the neck, pinning you on the bed. He choked you as he spewed nonsense about you belonging to him. You clawed at his hands, trying desperately to get him to unhand you. “S-stop”, you begged. His grip became harder. Your eyes started to roll to the back of your head. Your body continued to fight back, but the longer he choked you…your limbs grew weak. “Damnit!”, Megumi shouted as he let go. You gasped for air as he got off you.

Megumi reached for your phone, unlocking it again. “Guess I’ll  have to show you AND him who you belong to”. He went to your camera, pressing record. He set the device on his dresser, making sure it was facing the bed. As he approached you, you noticed he was taking off his clothes. You tried to sit up, but he pushed you back down. His hands took hold of your skirt, pulling it off along with your panties. You tried to stop him but he smacked your hand away. “Keep fighting and I’ll make it worse”, he warned. You didn’t want to take that chance, so you compiled. Megumi pried your legs open, spitting on your pussy, before shoving his full length in. You cried out in pain, feeling him thrust hard. “Shut up and take it”, he said. He groaned at how tight you were. It was painful, you never thought that your first time would be like this. 

He lifted up your shirt, exposing your jiggling breasts. He grabbed them, squeezing hard. “Megumi…please”, you sobbed. Megumi ignored you, continuing to do as he pleased. “Fuck”, he moaned, going harder. You couldn’t stop clenching around him. Your tight walls milked his cock, making the man blush. He leaned into your face, holding it still as he kissed you. You cried into his mouth as he forcefully stuck his tongue inside. The phone was still recording, catching everything that Megumi was doing to you. He pulled away from your mouth, looking back at the device, grinning. “Perfect”, he whispered. He drew his attention back to you, staring at your tearful face. “Don’t act like you don’t like it”, he said. “You’re supposed to love your boyfriend’s cock inside you”. 

Megumi stopped, flipping you over on your stomach. He lubed your ass up with spit, rubbing his dick against your anus. “Are you done?”, you asked. “I can’t take anymore”. He grabbed your hair, yanking your head back. Your body was pressed against his chest as he whispered into your ear. “You’ll take whatever I give you”. He pushed you back down, thrusting hard into your ass. You were shocked by how much it hurt. Your cries grew louder. Megumi dug his nails into your waist, holding it for support. “St-stop”, you whimpered. It didn’t take long for your voice to die down. Your vision blurred as you started to pass out. “About time you shut the fuck up”, Megumi said. 

❤~Hours Later~❤

You woke up, lying naked beside your bully. He was sound asleep with his arm wrapped around you. You slowly got up, trying not to make a sound. It was hard to move. You can tell he did more after you lost consciousness. “I know Yuta is disappointed in me”, you said. As you got dressed, you looked for your phone, grabbing it off Megumi’s nightstand. “What the hell?”, you stared at you and Yuta’s messages. He blew up your phone, making you wonder why. As you scrolled up more, your heart dropped. Megumi sent the video to him. “W-why would he do that?”. He edited the video to when you had passed out. He made it look like the two of you were having sex. You cried silently as you grabbed your purse to leave. 

“I’m guessing you saw the video”, Megumi woke up, hearing you sniffle. You looked back at him, asking him why he did that. “Because I love you…”, he got up from the bed, walking over to you. His hand reached out, caressing your face. “You think I want to see you happy with someone else”. He wiped away your tears, taking the phone out of your hand. “Looks like my plan worked”, he read the messages, feeling proud of himself. “You’re an asshole”, you said, snatching your phone out of his hands. Megumi laughed at you. He didn’t care that he ruined your chance with Yuta. All that mattered was that you were his. “Don’t be mad, sweetheart. You’ll grow to love me soon enough”.

[mtchee]

"Mm! A little taste of heaven!" "Do you have any preferences for the ice? We've got..."

"...Awakening Apple!" - Izuku Midoriya

menu coming soon~

"...Invigorating Orange & Peach!" - Katsuki Bakugo

Silence is Silver, Your Voice is Gold [SOULMATE SERIES] - GN Deemed as an 'extra' in his straight laced life, you've resigned yourself to covering your soul words and sealing your lips, becoming U.A's first year general course prodigy, the silent designer. It's unfortunate that despite your title, the angry pompom won't take a goddamn hint from your silence. When you even go out of your way to avoid him, you start to think that he knows you a little too well despite never having uttered a word.

"...Mesmerising Lychee & Mint!" - Shouto Todoroki

Silence is Silver, Your Voice is Gold [SOULMATE SERIES] - GN The piercing first words spoken by your soulmate leave you shattered, and your passion driven brother, Inasa, doesn't take kindly to it either. You thought you could get over your soulmate's rejection, accepting it wholeheartedly. So, why is he being so nice all of a sudden?

"...Motivating Plum & Sugarcane!" - Tenya Iida

Silence is Silver, Your Voice is Gold [SOULMATE SERIES] - GN Your spitfire attitude is a stark contrast to your sister Ochaco, but that doesn't stop you two from having each other's backs. That's why it baffles her when you become dead silent after you're scolded by class 1A's class president, Iida, for an outburst in class. When usually you'd scoff at him, you'd reeled back and sat in your seat. But now... you won't talk at all.

"...Balancing Blackberry & Lime!" - Hitoshi Shinou

menu coming soon~

"...Strengthening Strawberry!" - Eijirou Kirishima

menu coming soon~

"...Persistent Peach!" - Mirio Togata

Silence is Silver, Your Voice is Gold [SOULMATE SERIES] - GN As a late transfer, you feel uninclined to intrude on the connections your classmates have already forged, and feel even more so guilty to tie Mirio to you. Who are you to come in and claim one of U.A's best as yours? Though despite it all--through your silence, and avoidance--he seems to have had his eyes on you all along.

Slowly, Baby - AFAB! GN 18+ [MDNI] Mirio and [name]'s first time being intimate~

"...Buzzing Lychee & Butterfly Pea!" - Tamaki Amajiki

Silence is Silver, Your Voice is Gold [SOULMATE SERIES] - GN LOUD AND PROUD! That's who you are! So when you're paired with none other than one of U.A's Big Three, Tamaki Amajiki, your heart shatters when he flinches away from you before you can even utter a word. Your own soulmate is terrified of you without even knowing you. So perhaps, it's for the best that you pipe down and let him find someone else to better suit his needs.

"...Burnt Caramel & Plum!" - Dabi/Touya Todoroki

FALLEN GEMINI - GN You'd been tasked to infiltrate and investigate the League of Villains long before the group was even officially formed--namely your assigned target, their rogue, Dabi. Through your hard work, you've become closely aquainted Dabi, to a point where your true loyalties start to waver...

"Snow Tea Specials!" - Several OneShot/Drabble/Story Series

Silence is Silver, Your Voice is Gold | SOULMATE AU Mirio Togata | Shouto Todoroki | Tenya Iida | Katsuki Bakugo | Tamaki Amajiki | more coming soon~ After hearing the voice of your soulmate for the first time--knowing they were out of your league and deserved (and probably would want) better, you keep silent. However, fate determines you to be together nonetheless, where despite your silence, they either grow fond of you or curious, wherein eventually, you can be silent no more.

[phantomamour]

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

sejanus plinth x fem!reader •*⁀➷ part one

cw// alcohol, parties, slight mention of getting sick

Halloween was a sacred holiday amongst the seniors of the school. The parties were always exclusive and nearly impossible to get into, but Lucy Gray had snagged two tickets to Festus’ over-the-top “Halloween Bash.” He had insisted it would be the party of the year, though you had also heard similar things about a particular Arachne Crane’s party. It was often a matter of who would have the most booze to be considered the best party, and while you knew Arachne would use her parent’s money to buy enough to supply the whole school, you also knew that Festus had connections in town to get even more. He managed to earn a role in planning one of the previous senior parties the year before due to those connections, and you had heard plenty about the weird alcohol he got his hands on. Ones that would make your lips tingle or your tongue blue and even ones that would make you cross-eyed for days. Lucy Gray said that Coriolanus would be going to Arachne’s party rather than his boisterous teammate’s, and that it would almost guarantee the absence of a certain boy you had been hoping to avoid. 

Ever since the words you two exchanged in the garden, you had been avoiding Sejanus like the plague. You had wanted to hate him for speaking down on you so blatantly, but in your heart, you knew he had to have been hurting just as much as you were. The boy you’ve known for so long would never call you a whore and be okay with that. However, you also weren’t especially interested in talking more on the subject after being made to look like a fool to Coriolanus. He had stood you up, a fact that you know shouldn’t have shocked you as profoundly as it did. You got ready early that morning to go into town and get coffee with him. You waited outside where he had told you to meet, but he never came. When you tried to talk to him the next day about it, he didn’t remember even asking you to go with him. You found out from Lucy Gray that he had left earlier to go to a pub with some of the lacrosse team rather than go out with you.

Lucy Gray held you for weeks as you cried in her dorm room, feeling like a complete fool for letting yourself believe that Coriolanus would be interested in you even after, admittedly, trying to change yourself for him. You shared only one class with Sejanus, but he had grown worried enough to slip a note under your door when you missed two weeks in a row. You hadn’t read it, but you kept it tucked safely under your pillow at night as if the power of his handwritten words would curse your bad dreams away. The day in the garden played a constant repeat in your head, keeping you up until the late hours of the night, and by the time the sun rose so you could get ready for classes, your eyes finally shut. You had been a mere ghost for weeks and now you had been forced to rejoin society by Lucy Gray’s orders as she dragged you toward the drink table.

“Whatever you do, do not touch the punch. The other drinks are safe, but I swear they put just about everything in that goddamn punch, and you will get poisoning from it,” Lucy Gray explained as she grabbed you a drink along with her own. You made her promise not to leave your side, but within the hour, you found yourself in a corner sipping on what you swore may have been the strongest apple cider you’d ever had. The music drowned out the running dialogue about Sejanus as you let yourself slip into the fuzziness the rum provided. You had no desire to dance but enjoyed catching glimpses of Lucy Gray floating around effortlessly. However, your attention was quickly pulled to the boy who had just entered the room alongside your old crush. 

Coriolanus was clearly dressed as the devil in his all-red attire, but Sejanus was far from the angel at his side. You only allowed yourself to take in his appearance for a moment. Dark jeans perfectly hugged his thighs, and a white tank top stretched over his chest, only partially hidden by a silk button-up that flowed down his shoulders. You weren’t sure if you noticed how his arms filled out his shirts until then, attention caught on the fabric looking nearly ready to tear around his bicep. Coriolanus’ red shirt had nothing on Sejanus’ arms. It was painfully clear the longer your eyes lingered. How could you look at Coriolanus when the boy at his side looked like that? When you managed to drag your eyes up to his face, you were quickly brought back to reality by his eyes looking right at you. 

You cursed under your breath as you remembered the last few weeks, that one word he uttered echoing through your head before you set your drink down and tried to leave as quickly as possible. Seeing him again made something bloom in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the fact you’d missed your friend so much or something else deep down, but you refused to find out now. Lucy Gray noticed you trying to push through the crowd, but she didn’t have time to warn you before you hit someone head-on. 

“Shit. I’m sorry I wasn’t-” your words trailed off when you looked up and met the same brown eyes you’d known for years. Sejanus seemed so much taller now, or perhaps you felt small for him having caught you running. Little did you know he was the one chasing you down instead. The air around you felt thick as the music blaring through speakers around the room drowned out the sound of your poor heart about to beat out of its chest. 

“I’m just going to head out-” You didn’t have a chance to finish your words before he quickly spoke up.

“Do you want to drink one of those fuzzy pumpkin things Festus concocted? You wanted to drink one last year.” Somehow, hearing his voice made your desire to exit disappear entirely. You hadn’t realized just how badly you missed something as simple as his voice until it reached your ears over the music, and before you knew it, you were following him right back to the table set up with a multitude of themed drinks. No words were exchanged besides a quiet thank you as he led you two out to a small balcony, quiet enough for some privacy while still giving you a chance to run. Sejanus had little hope you’d forgive him after what he’d said, but he figured that trapping you outside with him was far from the place to start asking for forgiveness. 

He took a sip of your drink and waited a moment before handing it over to you, something he had started doing since the first party you’d dragged him to in sophomore year ended with you hunched over his toilet for hours. The nurse had told him you likely had a sour drink, probably an expired mixer, and from that day on, he never failed to always take a sip of your drink first. “I’d rather be the one sick than you,” he had told you, and he kept his word to do just that even when you two were on the outs now. 

“Your lips are tingling too, right?” he asked after a few silent minutes, smiling when you laughed even the slightest bit.

“No? Are you allergic to it? I’m not dragging you to the nurse if you fall over right here,” you teased. Even after weeks apart, it came naturally to the both of you, smiles gracing both of your faces. 

“Isn’t the foam supposed to make your lips tingle? Did you get enough of the foam? Tell me I’m not alone here.” You laughed fully then as you looked at the small bit of foam atop your drink and noted how much less you had compared to him as you responded, “Pretty sure you took most of my foam with your test sip.” He groaned as he tried to rub at his lips and rid them of the tingling feeling, but to no avail. After a moment, he looked over at you and noticed just how different you looked again. You still weren’t your old self, but you had moved on from the version of yourself explicitly made for Coriolanus.

You still wore a dress now, one that made his mouth dry to look at you in, but your lips were a natural color instead of the distinct red they’d been before. Your makeup was lighter, letting a few freckles peek out at him that he would love to reach a hand out and connect with the tip of his finger. It was a thrill for him to know that the girl he fell in love with still shined through in you. Your eyes focused on the night sky as the tension crept back over the two of you, trying to pretend that the boy standing next to you didn’t make your heart race so intensely.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you in the gardens. I was out of line in every way possible.” Your heart stopped beating as you absorbed each word. You could hear the genuine regret laced through each syllable, but you couldn’t force yourself to look over at him. If you saw the sincereness you knew was present in his eyes, you weren’t sure you’d be able to hold your own any longer.

“You were right. I was being an idiot, Sejanus… He stood me up anyways.” He wished he could have been shocked by that information, but as much as he wanted to hate Coriolanus for you, the same blonde boy had gone to his dorm room a wreck when he realized his mistake. Coriolanus wasn’t a bad guy, at least not to his core. He had felt terrible about the whole thing and made it only worse when he had lied to you, telling you he didn’t remember asking you out in the first place. Sejanus may have hated what Coriolanus’ existence did to you, but he was nothing if not understanding when the boy paced his room trying to figure out how to make it up to you. He didn’t, and he wouldn’t; Sejanus knew that. But that wasn’t so much Coriolanus being rude to you as it was his own need to look good in front of his teammates for lacrosse. 

“I wasn’t right. I was…” His words trailed off, a confession that would likely decimate what fragile remains were left of your friendship hanging on the tip of his tongue. He knew you liked Coriolanus and probably still liked him after four years. His chances were slim to none. But he figured, as your friendship hung delicately over the edge of the balcony with his heart, now was as good a time to confess as ever.

“I was hurt because you’ve spent your whole time here in love with Coryo… and I’ve spent every second of that time in love with you.” This time, you did look over at him. He was already looking at you as well, eyes glassy in a silent plea for you not to tell him to leave, but you knew in your heart he would if you did. In love with you, it repeated in your head like a mantra, circling from one ear to the other as you rethought the last four years of your life. Were you shocked by this new information? You couldn’t be too sure. In hindsight, it made sense, but looking back on everything you had considered platonic for years, it felt like your world had been turned upside down. Stolen sweaters, late nights in his room, shared coffees in cafes, early morning walks, passing notes in your shared classes. It didn’t look the same as before when you looked back on it now. 

You had been in love with Coriolanus. You thought you knew that without a doubt. But having heard Sejanus say he was in love with you made you question it still. Was it really love you had for Coriolanus, or was it something else? Lucy Gray had tried to tell you before that you were more infatuated with Coriolanus than in love, and you had brushed her off. But the longer you thought about it, the more it clicked into place. Perhaps it was easier to convince yourself that you felt love toward the blonde because the thought of ruining what you had with Sejanus was so terrifying. After moving away from home, he had been the first person you attached yourself to, your safe place. Feeling anything romantic with him felt like a death sentence to that safety. 

“You loved me,” you stated, needing to hear the words aloud again as you fell deeper into the spiral in your head. 

“I still do, but I’ve accepted that you don’t return those feelings.” That got your eyes to snap back up to his.

“Who said I didn’t?” you were playing with fire, a fire that could burn you both but one that could keep the two of you warm at night if you tread carefully, “Sejanus, I- I don’t know what I feel. But I… I’m not opposed to finding out if you’re willing to wait.” Slim looked great to Sejanus at that moment compared to the none he had expected. He could only smile in response at first, reaching hesitantly to hold your hand in his hand as you repeated, “Are you okay with waiting to see how I feel?” 

“I’ve spent four years waiting. I can wait a little longer. I’ve been playing the long game with you for quite a while,” a soft smile graced your features as he brought his other hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear with a whispered, “Are you going to go back to your old self?”

“Do you hate this one so much?” 

“No. I could never. I just want you to be happy,” he reassured you as he took in every inch in your face like it was brand new to him. Hope blossomed in his chest, a promise to wait, hoping it would be more than worth the extra time. 

“I do miss your sweaters. I hid them in my closet, but I’ve been dying to take them back out,” you confessed, blushing as he tilted his head with a smile. 

“Oh yeah? I’ll give you some new ones too.” You smiled a bit wider as you watched him look at you, a new adoration you hadn’t noticed before on full display as the music from inside drifted out to the balcony. Your eyes fell to his lips, and you remembered his comment that started your conversation.

“Are your lips still tingling?” you wondered aloud, eyes not moving from his perfectly pink lips. Had they always been so full? So… kissable? 

“A little bit. I should get you a drink with more foam so you can feel it too.”

“Or you could just kiss me?” The words had left your mouth before you could think to stop them, but when your gaze quickly met his, you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret them. When he walked in, you noticed just how attractive he must have always been, but seeing him up close like this was something different altogether.

“If you’re not comfortable with that, Sej, I understand, but I-” You didn’t have time to finish your explanation before he suffocated you in a kiss he’d been waiting entirely too long for. Even if you decided at the end of it all that you wanted to remain friends, this one kiss would get him through the rest of his days on this earth. His hands could nearly hold your whole head as he cupped your face, and you pressed yourself flush to him. If you thought teasing him came naturally, kissing him must have been imprinted in your DNA. Your lips moved in sync, and what may have started as an innocent way to share the effects of whatever chemical Festus pumped into the foam quickly became much more. You were discovering each other in a completely new way with each second that passed. He was learning the taste of your tongue while you learned the feeling of his hand on your lower back to press you closer. It took the two of you a moment to catch your breath afterward to be able to speak, foreheads pressed against one another as you panted.

“That was definitely a start in figuring out what I feel for you,” your voice was breathless as you nudged your nose toward him. 

“If figuring out how you feel about me includes more of that, I’m even more willing to help,” he laughed in response, the most beautiful sound you think you’d ever heard. Maybe you weren’t in love yet, but you were comfortable to figure out what loving Sejanus was like. Excited even. He told you he was playing the long game with you and meant that entirely. He’d wait however long he needed for the day you’d call him yours.

[sxirensdiary]

One of those days ⤑ Marauders and Co.

pairing: platonic! marauders and co. x gn!reader (marauders, valkyries, skittles) wc: 5.6k tags: slight angst (nothing bad, just reader being in a funk), lots of comfort, friends looking out for each other, readers house is left unnamed, gender not specified, gildroy lockheart, ticking and overstimulation mentioned, smoking, fighting (not serious), James being rejected, Sirius manwhore agenda, Barty being a flirt, non-sexual nudity, lots of cuddles.

You should have known that today was going to end up like this. Really, you should have, because the signs had been becoming more frequent all week. Sunday night ended with bones that felt heavier than the ones you’d find in a troll. Monday rolled around, and Professor Bins had called you out for dozing off during his lecture. The stares and giggles sent your way were embarrassing enough, but having the Gryffindors for that class meant that they would dote on you for the rest of the day. Which was sweet and all, but there was only so many times you could answer the same question before it got old. And old did it get.

Unfortunately, Tuesday wasn’t any better. You had accidentally snapped at Emmaline Vance during breakfast (for a stupid reason, you admit), and all your friends gave you the cold shoulder for it. You had to eat lunch with the Slytherins that day, and Barty had gotten way too close to knocking you over more than a few times. You skipped out on dinner that day. Wednesday was the worst kind of lonely. You were back to hanging with the Gryffindors, but they were still less than pleased with you. It was like your presence was non-existent, a ghost in a room full of people. You had to find Emma to apologize before things went back to normal, but a snide comment about “hanging around the snakes too much” made your mood dampen further.

Thursday was never ending. You tried to find solace in the library after a day of trying to control your emotions around the others, but your friends all needed to go at the same time as you, apparently. To make matters worse, your group had gotten kicked out for being “distracting”, which included you. So you had to take your studying up to your dorm, only to be kicked out because one of your roommates had company. You weren’t allowed back inside until the Hufflepuff sheepishly snuck out around midnight.

And finally, Friday came. And it came like a goddamned freight train. Because you had gone to bed so late, you accidentally slept in and didn’t get to eat any breakfast. In your rush, you had forgotten your tie, which didn’t go unnoticed by Professor McGonagoll. You had gotten 5 points taken away from your house for not dressing properly, and then another 5 for being late. Your patience was wearing thin, and you tried to avoid lashing out by sticking to yourself. But when did things ever go your way?

You had potions with both the Slytherins and the Gryffindors, which meant that your already invaded space was now double invaded. You had to shove Barty off your lap when he decided to greet you by sitting on you, then was fought over by James, Sirius, Barty, and Evan (who actually didn’t care, he just liked pissing people off ). You had to shut them up by choosing to sit with Gildroy Lockheart, who was just a dumb as he looked. It’s safe to say Professor Slughorn gave you a “A” for a potion you had to restart 4 times, and you had to distract Gildroy by getting him to talk about himself (which was torture enough), just so you could try and make the potion somewhat acceptable.

To make matters worse, the four idiots still weren’t done “fighting for custody” (Lily’s words, not yours) by the time lunch rolled around, so you had to compromise by promising Barty that you would eat dinner with them. “Perfect, dinners are more romantic than lunch anyways.” He wiggled his eyebrows salaciously at you, and you had to deal with James and Sirius in protective older brother mode for the rest of the hour. You had begun to anxiously tic by the time your afternoon classes rolled around, shivering and popping your bones when they seemed to go on for longer than they usually did. But finally, your torture was over when your last class let out. You stilled your bouncing leg by standing up as you packed up, and didn’t take a second longer than necessary to exit the classroom.

Which is how we ended up here. “C’mon, Tres. You promised your evening to us, remember?” Barty purred into your ear, putting more of his weight on you than necessary. “I said dinner, Junior. Which last time I checked, wasn’t for another 2 and a half hours.” You replied exasperatedly, basically tossing his arm off your shoulders. But, this is Barty. Tough love is his middle name (or one of them). “Which couldn’t come sooner enough. Please, gorgeous, entertain me for a sec, would you?” He pleaded, and had already begun to sink to his knees in front of you. Eyes were already beginning to turn to look at the scene, and you really couldn’t handle that right now. “Alright! Fine. Just please get up.” It was your turn to beg, and Barty let the brightest smile grace his face at your words.

“Perfect!” He jumped up, quickly wrapping his arm around yours to tug you down the hall. “I knew you loved me. Let’s go, Ev is waiting for us already.” You should have known, really, that once Barty made up his mind on something, there was no changing it. Call it manifestation (or changing the future, Merlin knows how Barty finds the most chaotic ways to do something), but you somehow always ended up giving in, even when your entire body was protesting against it.

He was right, Evan was leaning against the wall waiting when you both caught sight of him. He was nursing a cigarette, and if your mood wasn’t so shitty, you would’ve had the mind to appreciate the view. “Hey you two. I didn’t think you were going to join.” He greeted, voice muffled by the intake of smoke in his lungs. “Didn’t have much of a choice.” You rolled your eyes, and Barty feigned offense beside you. You ignored him as he began to defend himself, and instead reached out for the white stick between Evan’s tanned fingers. “I don’t think so, lovely. You know the rules.” He pulled the cigarette away, and you sighed. “It’s been a rough week, Rosie. You know I wouldn't ask otherwise.” 

The puppy dog eyes didn’t work on him (though Barty cooed at you while pinching your cheek), and he just gave you a look. “Ask again tomorrow. Matter of fact, there's a party happening, so you won’t be breaking any rules.” Still staring longingly at the drug escaping his lips, you agreed. “Fine.” He gave you a view of his pearly whites as he stubbed the unfinished cig out, not wanting to tempt you by finishing it off. He tossed it out into the courtyard, and before you could reprimand him, he dragged you into his arms. “Just looking out for you, doll. What would I do if you died of lung cancer?” “You smoke more than I do, asshole.” Your voice came out muffled due to his shoulder, and he shook with laughter. 

“You’re far more precious, Treasure. What would we ever do without you?” Came Barty’s typical theatrics, and you were then squished into a Slytherin sandwich once Barty decided he felt left out. “Sure. Now what is it you want? I need to get to my dorm.” You yawned, exhaustion settling into your muscles. You didn’t have to look at them to know that they were raising their brows at your statement. “Your dorm? You hate being in your dorm.” Evan questioned, and you just waved your hand at them. “Most days, maybe. But I currently have business there, so if we're done here…” You dismissed, and almost, almost, slipped away from them. But again, when do things ever go your way?

“Not so fast, sweet thing. I’m starting to think you want nothing to do with me anymore.” Barty chidded, and you turned to give Evan a desperate look. Said man took his time reading your expression, searching your eyes for a hint of reasoning, before bringing Barty along to catch up with you. “I wouldn’t blame her. I’ve been trying to get rid of you for years.” Barty shot him an unconvincing look, “I know you as many things, Ev, but a liar has not been one of them.” The blonde snorted out a “not true” to that. “Sure, B. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Let us walk you back, pretty?” You gave him a swift nod, and didn’t protest when he swung his arm around your shoulders to lead you towards your dorm. You did, however, pinch Barty when he slid his hand down to rest on your ass. “One day.” He sighed dreamily, envisioning your future together (“not happening” is what you tell him every time).

-

You had been alone in your dorm for a grand total of 3 minutes before being kicked out by your roommate. So here you are, being called over to a table by the window that was taken up by almost all of your female friends. And Remus. Remus was there, too. “Are you gonna stand there all day or join us?” Dorcas teased. The dumbfounded expression that once graced your face fell into a blank one, and you just adjusted your bag further up your shoulder with a sigh. “Here.” Remus called as he stood up from his corner seat to move to the one further in. “Thanks.” You breathed, noticing it was the only seat being blocked from the orange light. You moved to sit down, shrugging the bag hanging off your arm so it would lay in your lap. 

“Oh my god. Please tell me you know what happened with those two Ravenclaws, Emma.” Mary pleaded, which caused an uproar from the others in attendance. “Oh, you mean Travis and Bailey?” The aforementioned girl piped up, and you immediately realized that this was a horrible decision. Curse you and your inability to refuse. Trying your best to block out the story telling, you dug in your bag for the DADA assignment you were planning on finishing. Your papers soon became a part of the mess of books and parchments lying across the wooden table, though your quill was the only one moving. Aside from Remus. Remus was a professional at blocking out background noise (Though you guessed that made sense given who he spent most of his time with).

Maybe it was the way the sun had lowered to hit you directly with its rays. Or the scratching of quills that needed to be redipped. Perhaps the flipping of book pages? Actually, it was probably the wand tapping coming from the next table over. No wait, it was definitely the ringing in your ears paired along with the feeling of blood being pumped throughout your body. Whatever it was, all you knew was that you couldn’t seem to focus on the words in front of you with all the noise that felt like it was being blasted into your skull. Fuck, you needed out.

Remus, like the absolute angel that he was, knew there was something wrong with you immediately. Maybe it was because his lycanthropy gave him similar symptoms as the moon almost reached the height of its cycle, but he saw the signs immediately.  In fact, he had noticed the day you snapped at Emmeline, the realization that morphed into regret once you processed what you had done being all too familiar to him. Which is why he quickly, yet subtly, snapped into action.

You had been staring without blinking for over a minute before feeling something nudge your arm. You brushed off the feeling as just another thing that was enhanced by your overstimulated brain, but turned confused when it didn't go away. Looking down, you found a folded up piece of parchment poking you gently, and a pair of scarred fingers at the other end of it. Taking it, you glanced up at the werewolf, who in turn gestured for you to read it. You brought your hands to your lap to unravel the note, squinting your eyes to scan the words scrawled across it. 

“Ask me for my Transfiguration book.” 

You shot him a questioning look, and he returned it with one that read “just do it”. Clearing your throat, you cast a nervous glance across the table. “Rem? Can I borrow your Transfiguration book?” You asked, voice wavering slightly when the group of gossiping girls suddenly went silent and turned to you. “Of course. It’s in my dorm, though.” He replied, and you suddenly realized the exact message he was trying to convey. “Do you think we could go get it? Clarke still has mine and they’re busy with Emery.” You made sure to include the information, knowing that the girls would notice. 

“Emery? I thought they were talking to Davies?” Lily questioned, and Marlene gasped from her spot beside Dorcas. “Davies? I saw them with Andrew yesterday!” The girls quickly fell into discussing your roommates ex (and current) flings, and you took the chance to slip away without any questions. Remus quickly followed, giving you a look of urgency that screamed “hurry, before they drag you into it”. The both of you speed-walked all the way to the entrance of the library, and only settled into a normal pace once out into the castle’s halls.

“Thank you.” You offered your friend, and he seemed surprised at your words. “No problem. I was worried you would pass out if you stared any longer at that book.” He teased, and you knew it was his way of letting you know it wasn’t a big deal. You gave him a sarcastic laugh in response, and he just smiled back before letting the silence fall over you both. The halls were less packed at this hour, most students unwinding after classes in their dorms, which made the journey to Gryffindor tower bearable. 

Remus gave the password to the Fat Lady, and allowed you to enter first. He led you over to the usual spot your friend group took up in the common room and gestured for you to sit down. You settled into the velvet settee closest to the fireplace as Remus took your bag from you, depositing it along with his own beside the furniture. He sat down beside you with the muggle novel he had been reading, and patted his thigh for you to lay your head on. Following his instruction with no hesitation, you sighed contently when his fingers began to rub tender circles into your aching temples. You hadn’t even realized how severe the migraine you had was until it began to fade, and you wanted to send the lycan’s parents a letter of gratitude for creating such a lovely human being. 

Unfortunately, the peace didn’t last any longer than 15 minutes (which was actually a long time for this lot) before the other three quarters of his prankster group came barreling in. Quite literally, James and Sirius were tangled up in a mess of limbs from where, presumably, one of them tackled the other down the stairs of the boy’s dorms. Peter quickly followed, cheering them on as they continued to roll around on the common room’s carpeted floor. Too used to the chaos that were the Marauders, the students that had been lounging around made room to leave in favor of… anywhere else, really. Remus watched amused for a few moments, before a shift in his lap made him remember you. 

“Oi, knock it off before you break something.” He drawled, his welsh accent coming out like it usually does when he scolds the trouble makers. “The only thing that's going to break,” James hissed, pausing to dodge the hand that came an inch too close to his face, “is this tosser’s nose.”  In return, Sirius growled and tried to swipe at his best mate’s face again, only for the taller of the two to grab his wrist and hold it down. “Good luck with that, mate. You won't be able to throw a punch once I'm through with you.” The confidence that he gave off was remarkable for someone who was currently being pinned, but you really couldn’t care when the ache in your brain was returning worse than before.

A dejected sigh left Remus before he spoke up. “What are you two about, anyway?” Immediately, the two paused in their squabble to try and get their version of events out first. All it did, however, was come out in a jumble of words, and you winced at the sharp noise. Noticing, the auburn haired boy picked up his stilled hand to rest it over your ear before turning to Peter. “Pads called Prongs podgy for stretching out his vest.” The blonde explained once he caught his questioning gaze. “Wouldn’t have to if this fat bloke left it alone to begin with.” The oldest of the four grunted as he rolled them over, using James’s hair as an anchor by pulling it down. “You’re just jealous that I have more gains than you, Black.” To prove his point, the boy flipped them two back over, pressing his forearm into Sirius’s chest to keep him down while he tugged the hand in his hair out.

“Don’t need gains when the girl you’re after doesn’t like them anyway.” At this, James gasped sharply, and the noise bled through Remus’s fingers and into your ear canal. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing them to get over themselves before you actually blew an eardrum. “Oh, wise words coming from someone who can’t keep a girl around for longer than a week.” The brunette spat, and it was Sirius’s turn to gasp. “By choice!” The tattooed man defended himself, and began to thrash around while trying to land a hit wherever he could. 

The werewolf groaned, his unoccupied hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, before turning back to the brawling duo. “You’re both very pretty, now can you please stop? We can just use a shrinking spell to fix your vest, Pads.” He pleaded, and couldn't help but feel pity for how you must be feeling if his own head was hurting this much. Simultaneously, both of the Gryffindors froze at the spoken words, and their heads snapped over to where you both were perched. “You think I’m pretty?” They chimed in unison, faux bashfulness in their tone. At the sudden calmness, you picked up your head to survey the situation. Deeming it safe, you sat up and turned to your idiotic friends.

The sight of them caused your lips to quirk up, and you wished you had a camera with you to capture it. James was hovering over Sirius, one of his hands on the latter’s chest to keep him down while the other was on the pale cheek beneath him. He was using the placement as leverage to push his own head away, trying to be freed of the ink stained hand tangled in it. Sirius’s other hand was reeled back from where he was preparing to land a hit, and you could’ve sworn he was preparing to knee the tanned male in his groin.

“Very. Now both of you apologize, say something nice, and hug it out.” Remus chidded. “I’m sorry I ruined your vest, next time I'll ask before borrowing it. You have a great fashion sense and I wanted to look good like you.” James went first, and he pouted remorsefully down at the dog animagus. “S’alright. I’m sorry for calling you fat, and I actually think it looked better on you than it did on me.” Sirius followed, and the two cooed at each other dramatically before falling into a tight embrace. You rolled your eyes at their theatrics, sharing a look with Remus when they began to fake cry into each other. (“I love you, Prongsie. Let's never fight again!” “I love you too, Paddy, never again.”)

“...Anyways.” Your voice cut through the room, and you moved to settle back into the cushions, leaning your head against Remus’s arm. Peter stepped around the now cuddling boys to join the two of you, and slumped down into an armchair. You let out a breath or relief, basking in the newfound quiet with closed eyes. Right as you were about to doze off, however, James’s voice cut through the air. “Wha- is that my necklace!?”

Apparently, he had moved to rest against Sirius’s chest when he felt the familiar pendant. “Uh… no?” The accused male answered unsurely, and shrunk back at his angry counterpart. “Unbelievable, making a fuss over your vest while wearing my necklace. You best be sorry, you mangy mutt!” The ‘mangy mutt’ in question took offense to the name, and it wasn’t long before they were back to scuffling around on the ground. You threw your head back in frustration, groaning at the new disturbance. You brought your hands up to push your palms into your eyes, only bringing them back down when you felt a tap on your thigh. 

Looking up, you found Remus nodding over to where the duo had somehow found their way back towards the stairs. He then gestured over to the door and mouthed “go, save yourself”. You wasted no time in doing so, not even bothering to grab your belongings as you booked it to the doorway through the newly cleared path. You pushed the painting open just as the human ball rolled in the opposite direction, missing you only by a few inches. You breathed out as you successfully made it out alive, calming down from the sudden rush of adrenaline. A loud crash came from the now closed entrance, and you slowly turned to make eye contact with the Fat Lady. 

“Hooligans, I tell you. Not a moment of peace with those two.” She sounded disgusted, and the way her chin was jutted up proved it further. “Tell me about it.” You muttered, turning to get as far away as possible, scared that if you lingered any longer you would get dragged back in. Checking the time, you groaned as you noticed there was only half an hour until your “date” with the Slytherins. There was no use heading back to the library, seeing as it would take half the time to get there, only for you to immediately head back to make it in time. 

You could perch on one of the windows around the castle, but the bustle of people going to and fro would only bother you further. You could go and sit by the lake, but you decided otherwise once you noticed a few third years tossing around a ball. The courtyard was usually bustling around this time, most people loitering there due to its closeness to the Great Hall, which was absolutely a no. It seemed that everywhere in the castle was either too far, too loud, or too risky. The thought of bumping into any one of your friends was less than ideal.

Not that you hated your friends, far from it, really. But your mood was terrible and getting worse by the second. You would feel guilty for lashing out at them for no reason. It wasn’t their fault for wanting to have a good time chatting, and you shouldn’t expect them to cater to your own needs. On any normal day, you would find yourself enjoying their company, basking in the lighthearted teasing and booming laughter. The loud personalities of all your friends was the sunshine on a rainy day, and you loved them for it. If only you weren't in the mood to just ignore everything and sit in silence for the rest of the evening.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a soft mewl, and you slowed to a stop once you spotted one of the many Hogwarts cats laying on a bench. Its tail swished as it stared at you, and you approached it gently, not wanting to startle it. You offered your hand once you were close enough, and it leaned forward to sniff at it. You calmed your breath as it did so, suddenly realizing how fast you had been doing so previously, and relaxed once it pressed its head into your waiting palm. You gently lowered yourself into the spot beside it, and began to run your fingers through its soft fur. 

Unfortunately, things never go your way, and a sprinting second year startled your feline friend. The cat jumped and began to flee, and you wanted to cry for it to come back. You groaned for the umpteenth time that day, and slid down into your seat. Great, now who were you supposed to cuddle with in complete silence? You didn’t have a cat, and Hogwarts cats had a habit of only being found when they wanted to. You watched the cat finally disappear around the corner of the corridor, and found yourself missing its black fur. The color was sleek and shiny, its beauty compared only to the stones made of obsidian. Not even Sirius’s hair was that dark, having grey strands mixed in like his cousins. There was only one other person you knew that had hair darker than the night sky on a new moon, and it just so happened to be his brother, Regulus. 

“Wait a second…”

You jolted up, realization filling your brain as you thought about your own best friend. God, how could you have forgotten about him? The only other person who understood you in times like these, the one who you offered solitude to when he was feeling like you currently did. Feeling utterly stupid for being so absentminded, you picked yourself up off the bench with a newfound purpose, and made your way towards the Dungeons with haste. 

-

The entrance to the emerald green common room was revealed once you gave the password, and you quickly stepped in. You barely registered the sound of the stone snake slithering back down once inside, too busy making a b-line for the dorms. It seemed like your body began to grow more sluggish the closer you got to your destination, and by the time you stopped in front of the door you were searching for, you were nothing but a melting puddle of flesh and bones. You opened the door and peeked in, a relieved smile on your lips as you found Regulus inside. 

He was lying on his bed with a book settled over his legs that were crossed, and his torso was leaning into his fluffed pillows (Reg was the only boy in that dorm who made his bed perfectly. Evan did his half-assed, and Barty didn't bother making it at all). He barely spared a glance at your sluggish state before he was picking up his wand and waving it around lazily. You watched a pair of sleep pants fly out from his wardrobe and land beside him. Once he noticed you lingering by the door, he picked up his head to give you an expectant look. 

You snapped out of your daze and blinked yourself back into reality, then began to make your way over. You picked up the pants, heart warming once you noticed they were your favorite pair of his, and set them back down to shrug off your bottoms. You shivered at the cool air hitting your bare legs, and hurriedly stepped into the warm trousers. They were oversized, but you really didn’t mind. Regulus was the tallest out of the bunch, so you weren’t surprised when the crotch of them hung around your mid-thigh. You couldn’t be bothered to roll them up, having better priorities now that you were craving to join him in bed. You picked up the shirt now waiting where the trousers once did, and quickly replaced it with your own.

Once you finished dressing, you looked up to find everything else the Slytherin did for you. The curtains framing the windows that peered out to the Black Lake were now drawn, and the only lighting being provided were from the candles now lit. The orangey glow made the room feel even more appealing, which was something you didn’t think was possible. The enchanted gramophone in the corner was now playing your favorite classical record, and you found yourself feeling sentimental with how well he knew you.

Your eyes found their way back to your best friend, and the fondness in your chest was overflowing once you noticed he was already waiting for you. He had adjusted his position by moving over to make space for you, and was now fully laying down with his head against the pillows. You clambered on to the bed and quickly settled against his side, curling into him and burying your head into the space he opened up between his arm and chest. Once you were comfortable, he returned his hand back to his book, successfully caging you in from the outside world.

“Took you long enough.” His voice murmured low into your hair, and you huffed. Of course he had known you’d come crawling to him, he knows you better than you know yourself, it seems. “The universe was keeping up apart, I fear.” You replied with your tired tone, and his chest bounced in an amused huff. There were no more words spoken from either of you, not that there needed to be. No, everything came in a quick understanding of each other, like a silent agreement. The calm that radiated off of the composed teen soothed your aching bones, and you suddenly couldn’t remember any of the inconveniences this week had produced. They melted away like the tension that once lay in your aching tendons did, and every symptom you had once felt was shunned back into non-existence.

You didn’t know exactly when you fell asleep, but it came quickly and with ease. In your unconscious state, you didn’t notice anything going on in the world outside of you and your companion. If you had somehow stayed awake, maybe you would have noticed the featherlight kiss that was pressed into your crown. Maybe you would have felt when his own exhaustion grew too much, and he set his book down on the bedside table to join you in slumber. Maybe you would have witnessed him relax into you, his legs intertwining with your own as his head pressed into your own. Maybe you would've been aware of the way his arms wrung around you, bringing you close, and the way you did the same back.

When you did regain consciousness, it wasn’t until the late hours of the night. The glow that had once peeked out from behind the curtains was now gone, as was the sun. The rise and fall of the chest beneath you let you know that you were still where you had fallen asleep, but now with a new addition. Wanting to know what the weight that covered your body was, you picked up your head to investigate. Through sleep bleared eyes, you recognized the lump as none other than Barty. He was sprawled face down across you and Reg, his arms wrapped around each of you with his head buried in your abdomen. His feet were hanging off the bed, and you noticed a second pair alongside them. 

That discovery made you aware of the second presence behind you, and you craned your neck to see the head of bleached hair pressed into your lower back. Evan was tucked into you (and partially Barty), with his body morphing along the curves you had created. One of his legs was strewn over Barty’s, and the weight of his arm against your hip was comforting. His hand was curled into the shirt of the brash man above you, and you noticed how said man was doing the same to Evan’s. To anyone else, this situation might have been uncomfortable, but it somehow worked for the four of you.

The rest of the room was quiet, the record having finished at some point where no one was awake to flip it, and their last roommate was nowhere to be found, probably in the comfort of another's bed, much like you were. Trying your best not to disturb your boys, you reached for Regulus’s wand. Finding it underneath his pillow, you drew it and flicked it to turn out the flames of the candles. Satisfied, you returned the tool to its resting place, cringing when it's owner stirred underneath you. 

Unfortunately, the boy’s eyes fluttered open. They met your own in a questioning glance, and you watched them move to make the same discovery you did moments prior. Amusement and faux annoyance mixed across his face, and he just plopped his head back into his pillow. The hand that was resting against your bicep came up to push your head back down into his chest, and you smiled a smile that showed off your teeth. A similar one graced Regulus, who didn't have to open his eyes to replicate it, already knowing you were doing it. You enjoyed the sight for a second longer before nuzzling your face back into him, sighing contently as you moved with his breaths that came in slow succession. His heart pounding behind his ribcage made the perfect lullaby, and you kept yourself awake a little longer to appreciate the rhythm it made. 

You fell back asleep soon after, and slept soundly through the rest of the night. And once morning came, you all slept even longer, none wanting the peacefulness to end. It wasn’t until the morning blended right into the afternoon that it did. And you would be pleased to find that, besides your rumbling stomach, all of yesterday’s worries were exactly that. Yesterday’s worries.

[runraerun]

Billy with hanahaki disease ?🌸?

Pain!:’)

I love it! Here ya go🌸🩸

Fic prompts are: OPEN if anyone else is interested 💌 -> 📬

Tw; blood, slight body horror.

—

It started shortly after Billy moved to this shitty little town in the middle of assfuck nowhere. He chalked it up to the air quality being dogshit compared to California, or maybe he was allergic to that pungent smell of manure that the locals seemed totally nose blind to. The absolute last thing he would have considered was a goddamn plant had started growing inside of him–a love plant.

It was rare. You were only susceptible to it if you had a certain gene that you inherited from your maternal line. Lucky him.

Guess he can’t say his mom left him with nothing when she packed her shit up and skipped town. No, instead of a forwarding address, Billy’s mom left him her shitty, fairy genes. Thanks, Mom. Real swell of you.

“Has there been anyone you’ve had your eye on?” The school nurse asks, voice pitched low, gentle, like she was trying to soothe some kind of volatile beast.

Billy spits another mouthful of blood into the pan he’s holding, the crumpled up flower petals that he’d just finished hacking up look like chunks of his lung rather than a part of a plant. Runs his tongue along his teeth to try and fish anything out that may have gotten left behind in the carnage.

“No.” He says, stubbornly. He doesn’t look up from the pan.

“Well, Hanahaki disease can only take root under very specific circumstances. It feeds off a pheromone our bodies release when we experience a certain emotion; the stress of a love that’s unrequited. It’s the only–”

“I said no, alright?” Billy barks, voice still a little ragged from his coughing fit. Like he’d swallowed with a mouthful of gravel. “Get off my back.”

The nurse sighs, but she doesn’t move to stop him when he puts the pan down beside him and gets to his feet.

“It’ll only get worse if you ignore it, Mr. Hargrove.” She warns.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Billy mutters, but he doesn’t have the energy to put any heat behind his words, so it doesn’t do much to wipe that stupid sympathetic look from her face. He grabs his jean jacket and leaves, shoving the door open with enough force that it slams back against the wall.

Despite his repeated denial, Billy knew who was responsible for this fucking mess.

Steve Harrington.

With his perfect hair and his stupid fucking Bambi eyes, lighting up every goddamn room he strode into with those long legs of his. Jesus… How could Billy ever have stood a chance?

Just thinking of him brought a tickle to the back of Billy’s throat. He suppresses a cough into his fist as he stomps down the hallway, now empty due to everyone else having gone home for the day. Except Billy, who of course couldn’t fucking breathe after gym class today after getting a little too rough with Steve.

It hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, but something about the way Steve elbowed Billy away, how he barked at him to give him some breathing space, yelled at Billy to fuck off already—it had Billy’s chest acting up.

He held out for most of the class, fighting against the fucking petals that were pushing their way up through his fucking esophagus by beating at his chest, shouting to clear his airways, but then in the showers, Steve had avoided him completely. Had somehow managed to slip and out of the stalls without Billy noticing, depriving him of their usual naked back and forth banter that Billy had come to look forward to.

It was one thing for Steve to hate him, but it was another thing entirely for Steve to be indifferent toward him. That was way fucking worse.

The sting of rejection quickly turned to a coughing fit, worse than any he had experienced before. Like he’s hacking up a fucking lung. A few of the other boys had asked him, ‘you okay man?’ or, ‘should we get the coach?’, and worst of all, ‘oh shit is that blood?’

Billy was barely able to shove his legs back into his jeans and shoulder one of his classmates out of his way before he stumbled into the nurse’s office.

Fat lot of good that did him…

He’s gotta pick up Max. He can’t afford to hang around and talk about his pathetic, one-sided love with a complete stranger anyway. Billy leaves the school, gets into his car, puts the windows down and cranks the music as loud as he can stand it, and he tries very hard not to think about Steve and this ever growing thing that’s taken root inside of his chest, steadily consuming him from the inside out.

Christ, who knew he was such a fucking romantic…

[ltbarnes]

‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

[alloftheimaginesblog]

damaged goods {e.m}

plot: you and eddie have been seeing each other for a while but just as things are getting good, he self destructs and pulls away.

character: eddie munson x reader

As soon as you see his black van parked at the school, you're determined to hunt him down. He's clearly been avoiding you for the last two weeks and you want to know why. Was he not interested in you anymore? Did he want things to end? Was he going through something? You didn't know but you needed to; you couldn't just have nothing from him so you were going to do whatever it took, whether it meant missing classes or even skipping school completely, you'd do whatever it took to get to the bottom of this.

Things between you and Eddie had just been getting good, you were getting to the stage where you were hoping that he'd ask you to be his girlfriend and then he just... left. Whatever the reason, you needed to know. You liked Eddie, god you really liked him and that's why you were pissed. You wanted this so bad, you wanted him so bad and maybe he didn't want you and honestly, it hurt a lot more than you'd care to admit.

You didn't know where he'd be so you found someone who would. It didn't take long to find the rest of the Hellfire Club, they were tucked away inside their dedicated room ranting about the new campaign that they were starting. When you barged in, they immediately shut up.

"Where is he?"

They glanced around at each other, stammering and red in the face.

Rolling your eyes, you put your hand on Dustin's shoulder, "Dustin," your voice turned from hard to sticky sweet, "Can you tell me where he is?" Poor Henderson. He was clearly under instruction to not let you know his location but as soon as you fluttered your lashes he spluttered out that Eddie was in Mr Muchnik's class prepping for a test that he'd previously failed. You patted Dustin on the shoulder, "Thanks, kid," as Mike Wheeler hissed 'dude he's gonna kill you'.

On the walk to Muchnik's all you could think was that you hoped he didn't have a class first thing because you wanted this all sorted with Eddie, you didn't want to have a bunch of kids walk in on your - what you presumed would be - heated discussion.

When you walked in, Eddie was hunched over the table, scribbling things down, "Henderson, I told you not to bother me-"

"Munson!" The roar of your voice startles Eddie, making him jump and cower like a dog who's being scolded for chewing on the couch cushions.

Quickly, he jumps up, "I-I gotta go, sorry, really gotta run!" He excuses himself and tries to scuttle away.

"And you're just abandoning all your work, huh?" You ask, arms crossed over your chest. Eddie looks back to the mess he's left on the desk, the important mess on the desk, "You won't mind if I just tear it all up, would you?" Eddie's eyes narrow as he weighs up the situation in his mind. Would he really let you destroy his hard work just for the purpose of avoiding talking to you for even longer? Seriously?! "I just had to flirt with a goddamn twelve year old so you're going to fucking speak to me, Eds!" You hiss, annoyed and still slightly mortified with flirting with Dustin.

Eddie almost laughed, he would've had the tension not been too much, "Fuckin' Henderson man..." He mutters under his breath before realising that right now is not the time for jokes. He relents with a heavy sigh, "Okay, let's talk."

You're standing, arms crossing frowning at him. He's looking at you as though you're the one who needs to do some explaining and your patience wears thin, "Well?" It's harsher than you really intend it to be but Eddie doesn't flinch, instead he shrugs one shoulder, scratching the back of his head.

"I don't really know what to tell you."

You're fucking pissed and he knows it. It takes every ounce of self control to not rip him to shreds, "Start with why you've been avoiding me." Your voice is sticky sweet but with an edge; a knife dipped in honey.

His composure changes from that of being skittish to being... indifferent? "I'm damaged goods, sweetheart," he says, hands spread out in a 'what you gonna do about it' gesture, "what more can I say?"

"The fuck are you talking about?" You're angry, he sees it burning in your eyes and he doesn't blame you. He'd be angry too if you'd avoided him for two weeks with no sort of rhyme or reason. It's like he doesn't care, like it's fun to mess you about but the real reason is that he does care; so much, maybe even too much, "What does that mean?"

"Damaged goods," he repeats, voice more serious this time, "I'm broken, fucked in the head, a mess... Any of them work better for you?" He sounds bitter, annoyed at himself almost.

You roll your eyes, "I know what it means, Munson, I just want to know why that's reason enough for you to avoid me for two weeks when things were just getting good."

It's Eddie's turn to be confused, "Because I'm a mess. Why would you care about me? I'm not worth it so I decided for you."

You roll your eyes, "How about you let me decide what I can and can't handle? Eds..." At the sound of your nickname for him, his face softens and he suddenly can't look directly at you anymore. Shame burns in his stomach. Could you really care about him? Has his insecurities caused him to push you away? Your demeanour changes and all of your anger vanishes. You're not angry. Your heart aches for him in this moment. You reach out for him, he doesn't react, "I thought things were going really well, I stupidly thought that you were..." You trail off, shaking your head with a bitter laugh.

"That I was what?" Eddie presses quietly.

"That you were gonna make it official soon," you say with a shrug, "I don't care if you're broken or if you're a mess - have you met anyone who's not a bit of a mess or a little fucked?! I have issues too, Eds, I struggle as well. You just have to trust that I care about you because..." he finally raises his head to look at you, "I do. I do care about you."

He laughs humourlessly, "Why? Why do you even care about me? I'm a freak, no money, no friends, nothing."

"Because you're you, Eddie. You're funny, always making me laugh even when I'm mad or upset. You're so sweet. When we started this thing I didn't really see you as a sweet or caring guy but my god you are. You came and picked me up at 3am from Olivia's party, drunk as a skunk and then I puked in your van and you didn't care. You still called me pretty and helped me get home safe, didn't complain about the state of your van or anything. Spending time with you is so fun. Before we started hanging out, I don't remember when I'd had this much fun. Eds, you mean so much to me and I don't get why you don't see how fast and hard I'm falling for you!" The last part was a secret that you'd meant to kept locked up and as soon as you say it, you take a sharp intake of breath, "I-I- fuck."

Eddie smiles, a real smile that reaches his eyes and crinkles the corners, "You mean all of that?" He steps towards you.

Your cheeks burn hot, "Yeah, I do."

"All of it? You accept me for my flaws and all?"

Again, you agree.

"You promise?" He asks, "I'm giving you an out right now. If you're not sure, if you don't think this is a long term thing... get out while you still can because I want you and once I have you," he's standing right in front of you, chests centimetres from touching, "I'm never gonna let you go." His breath fans over your face and you find yourself closing the gap between the two of you.

"I'm all in," you whisper, eyes boring into his.

He grins but you barely get a chance to see it before his lips are on yours, warm and fast. It's not a long kiss, no those tend to happen in the back of his van, but it's enough for now.

He pulls back, pressing your foreheads together, murmuring an apology to you, "I'm sorry," he starts, "I- I got kinda in my head. Couldn't understand why someone like you would date someone like me." Instead of replying, you kiss him again. He tastes familiar - cigarettes and coffee.

"Oh," he says, pulling back, "we're totally in a relationship now by the way if you didn't know." He speaks quick before kissing you again. Your hands tangle in his hair as he backs you against the wall. You missed him; you missed this. You just hoped that you'd be able to prove to him that no matter what he was - damaged goods or not - then you'd be here to help repair the pieces.

[rashoumon-homo]

The Bar Lupin (Dazai x Reader)

Dazai x Male Reader, SFW

-> Content Warnings: alcohol mention, hurt/comfort, grief, anxiety attacks, happy ending

-> 1.2k words

Author’s Note: long time no see! I just finished up my class the other day so now I have more free time to write, yay! This one is super tame, but I do have a NSFW Atsushi x Reader in the works so you’ll get your smut fix soon!

Request sent by @suru1990 - enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

Ever since Oda’s death, Dazai had avoided the Bar Lupin. It just felt too sentimental, like a holy place that would be tainted if he were to step over the threshold. There were too many memories tied up there. Ones where he was truly happy, which felt somehow worse to dwell on than the more traumatic memories did. When he was in hiding after leaving the Port Mafia, he had a reasonable enough excuse to avoid the place. After all, it was a place he had visited frequently and the Mafia was sure to look for him there. But then the years passed and he joined the Armed Detective Agency and settled in. The Port Mafia knew where he was and didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore about his reasons for staying away from the Bar Lupin.

Dazai made a habit of visiting Oda’s grave every year on the anniversary of his death. He’d just sit there in silence, leaning back against the gravestone while dappled sunlight shone on them both through the tree above. Sometimes he’d talk, but mostly he’d sit there quietly. He also had a ritual for spending Oda’s birthdays- getting blackout drunk on whiskey and sake and subsequently calling in sick to work for the next several days to sleep off the hangover. He jokingly called it a “hard reset” but his coworkers exchanged glances rather than laughing when he did.

He and Oda and Ango used to all spend each other’s birthdays at the Bar Lupin, laughing together about who knows what. It was on one of those birthdays that he’d tried whiskey for the first time.

It had now been four years since Oda had celebrated a birthday. Dazai tried not to think about those memories, but they rose to the top of his head like ramune bubbles, determined to resurface. He’d been fighting them all day. Now alone in his room, the weight of them made his chest and throat feel tight, so he threw back yet another cup of sake. And maybe his nose was tingling a little, like it does before he cries, but he was decidedly not drunk enough to deal with that. So he pulled on his coat and went for a walk to clear his head.

Turns out his half-drunk, emotional mind was a bitch. He stood outside the front door of the Bar Lupin, grinding his teeth. He felt so goddamn stupid for being afraid of a building. A building! He was an ex-mafioso. He’d seen hundreds, maybe thousands of people die in front of him in the most gruesome ways. And yet the ghosts of memories had the power to scare him away from the place for years. He was sick of it. His eyes pricked with tears and that was enough to push him forward, opening the door.

As Dazai walked down the stairs, he was surprised to see that the inside of the bar was nearly identical to the last time he’d been there. The decor was the same as always; the soft music just as he remembered. The calico cat that used to hang around was curled up on one of the barstools, sleeping. Even the smell was the same - it was like stepping back in time.

Dazai glanced down the row of barstools and froze. There you were, sitting in Oda’s usual seat. You were about the same height and wearing a similar trench coat, and for a horrifying moment, he thought you were Oda. Startled, he stumbled backwards, bumping into the wall with a muffled thump. You looked over in surprise, but the attention was lost in the haze of adrenaline and humiliation clouding Dazai’s perception.

It wasn’t Oda. Of course it wasn’t. How fucking stupid could he be? Tears sprung to Dazai’s eyes and he swallowed thickly. God, he hated crying.

You stood up and started walking over.

“Stay back!” Dazai warned, flinching away as he saw you approach. He felt the air shift as you crouched down beside him.

“Here, take this,” you said.

He hesitantly lifted his head, gaze flitting to your yellow converse - definitely not something Oda would have worn. He glanced further up, to the handkerchief in your extended hand. Your eyes were softened with concern, but not pity. At least there was that. He took the handkerchief.

You sat on the ground beside him and leaned against the wall, then closed your eyes. “Slow, deep breaths,” you said. “In for 4…” You demonstrated for him, not caring whether he was actually paying attention. “Then hold for 4,” you continued. “Out for four…” You let your breath out slowly through your mouth. “And hold for another 4.” You peeked over at him and were pleased to see him breathing along with you.

The two of you sat there, breathing calmly, for the next few minutes.

Dazai shifted and ran his fingers through his hair. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Doing better now?” you asked.

He finally looked you in the face and wow he had the most beautiful brown eyes you’d ever seen. And long eyelashes that glistened with tears. His nose was a bit red, and his eyes still looked puffy, but somehow the vulnerability was attractive in itself.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked finally. He blushed, then quickly added, “To repay you for helping me.”

You smiled and stood up, then held out your hand to help him to his feet. “I’d like that,” you said.

Now that he looked closer, Dazai could see the hint of a tattoo just under your collar. And the hand you’d extended to help him up was covered in rings, your nails coated in chipped black nail polish. When you smiled at him, it was wide and genuine and a little crooked. You were nothing like Oda.

“Actually,” Dazai said suddenly, “maybe we can get coffee instead? I’ve already had a bit to drink and this place just doesn’t feel right anymore.”

“Um… sure!” you said, warming up to the idea. “I’m new to the area, so maybe you can show me around on the way!”

As the two of you chattered together and walked up the stairs, Dazai couldn’t help but feel lighter. Somehow, that was all the closure he needed. He was looking towards the future now; not giving the past any more weight than it deserved.

Dazai sneakily grabbed your hand as you walked through the front door, smiling to himself as you blushed into the collar of your coat. “You blushing?” he teased.

“It’s cold out!” you insisted, only turning pinker. He laughed at you and the two of you started down the sidewalk. After a few seconds, he spoke again.

“I’m glad I met you,” he said. “Feels like fate or something.” His tone made it hard to tell if he was being genuine or just messing around, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes when he said it.

“Hmm… I think it’s a bit early to say for sure,” you said playfully. “But I’m glad I met you too.” You squeezed his hand and smiled at him. The two of you turned the corner and the sign for the bar was out of sight.

♡ ♡ ♡

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