#also???? while you were hyper sleeping 3????

[junee-e]

I KNOW WHO WILL HAVE A SPARE CRYOPOD IN 2064

[paradlselost]

. ⋮ ULTRAVIOLENCE .ᐟ ֹ

doctor phosphorus x female reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ fun fact i’ve wanted to eat uranium for a long time so he is the worlds most perfect man to me . also sorry for not writing anything in so long , i’ve been busy and jumping from hyperfixation to hyperfixation for a while now as you can see by my unfinished mouthwashing fanfics . but i watched the show last night and he is my favorite and there’s almost nothing about him so i had to . enjoy !

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ monster ! reader , mentions of body dysmorphia and imposter syndrome / depersonalization , religious trauma + blasphemy ( cause i can’t help myself ) specifically in catholicism , catholic rituals , depictions of eating raw meat , depictions of wounds , hurt / comfort , depictions of cannibalism , described body horror . smut : fire / burning kink , dry humping , fingering , male moans ( yay ! ) .

3 . 1 k words ++ not beta read .

PART TWO OUT NOW : CINNAMON GIRL

Eyes flutter closed, allowing darkness to wash over you. Soft sounds of birds chirping fill the room around you, drowning out the constant humming of the chip in the back of your neck. You’re hyper aware of everything, the fabric of the blanket that covers you and the cold air that stings your nose as you breath in; chest rising and falling in rhythm.

You remember how reluctant the guards that watched over you were to allow you the sounds you so desperately needed to sleep, not believing your pleas to quiet your constantly racing mind. Nearly a week without rest made them understand rather quickly, when, despite the power dampener locked around your neck, talons began to grow out of your hands and your spine contorted with the growing of fleshy wings.

It seems you’ve been blessed, something has gone right for once in your life as you’re now able to change the sounds to whatever you wish instead of the constant rushing of waves. Secretly, you’re happy to have been put on this mission. Grateful, even, as much as you could be to a monster like Waller. Perhaps you could even forgive her for the electrocution you’d been put through.

Weasel kips at the foot of your bed, stuck to your side since the day you had snapped at him: barred your fangs and shoved him away from you. Something about the beast had been so pathetic that you ended up apologizing and giving a hesitant scratch to the back of his ears. He’s good company, loyal if not a bit of a flea concern, and he listens when you speak to him unlike many of the others in the special containment of Belle Reave.

Nina was kind, as well, perhaps a bit out of her element, though. You’d once tried to make small talk with GI but that ended as quickly as it had started with his sudden interrogation on if you were a Nazi. And god, you wouldn’t dare bring anything up to the others.

Crickets chirped through the headphones you had been allowed to wear, owls hooting and birds calling. A forest at night, a beautiful scene you were sure you wouldn’t be able to see freely again, but you do not indulge in those negative thoughts. You can already feel it looming over you, exhaustion and stress mingling to bring it out. The thing that stirrs inside you, monstrous and ugly. Its hungry, and you know better than to ignore that hunger lest the Weasel that kips at the foot of your bed be more than a scrap of fur.

So, you stirr. Sitting up in the bed you remove your headphones and push the blanket from your form quietly as to not disturb him. He’s almost cute when he sleeps, like a crusty old dog that resembles more of a tattered blanket than a pet. Regardless, you close the door quietly behind you and walk down the long winding hallways of the palace. Truthfully, you had never been anywhere quite as lavish, never had a king sized bed all to yourself or a private bathroom. Its almost too big, especially at night when the shadows dance up the walls and cast an ominous glare over just about everything.

You know better than to gaze at your shadow as you pass the large walls with royal family portraits. Unworthy, unrighteous, evil. The rosary marks still pierce your skin, forced to pray this thing away day and night till your palms and knees bled. You’ve grown resentful towards the being that shares your body. It makes demands of you, to feast, a single slip can give way and allow it to control you. Some kind of devil, the reason you’re here in the first place.

Your mouth had begun to hurt in your search for the kitchen, gums beginning to bleed and pool against the base of your tongue.. You’d have thought you’d be used to this by now, that your world wouldn’t continue to be turned upside down, that the Lord’s Prayer wouldn’t recite involuntarily in your mind as it all starts over again. You stumble over your own two feet, finding yourself silently wishing you had that power dampener around your neck once again. Your stomach rumbles more.

It feels like an eternity till you finally find the kitchen, thankful that all the servants had retired for the night so you can spit your mouthful of blood into the sink. Crimson stains the marble, dripping from your chin as you turn on the faucet to wash your mouth of the taste. Your fangs had grown in now, taking space in front of your canines and piercing uncomfortably against your bottom lip whenever you close your mouth. Hunger gnaws at your stomach as if beginning to consume the lining itself.

You throw open the fridge door with little care of the noise it makes as it slams into the counter beside it. Eyes scour for something, anything, till you land on a large, raw goose marinating for tomorrow nights feast. Shaky hands reach out to grab it, allowing the glass tray it sits in to fall to the ground and shatter. The shards prick at your bare feet, cutting and marring your skin with more blood, though you don’t seem to notice.

Fangs sink into the bird, soft flesh breaking at the intrusion. The taste is almost euphoric, never had you tasted a meat so rich and fatty; your body had gotten far too used to the awful prison food they served in containment. You rip out a large chunk; tendons harshly snapping from the body as you swallow nearly without chewing. Your eyes gloss over as you devour the bird, reaching in to grab at the sausage links that had also been waiting to be cooked the next day.

You hadn’t realized how much you had truly lost yourself till a harsh green glow halted your feast. Head whipping around to greet the skeletal face of Phosphorus, a hiss falling from your lips that still wrapped around a chunk of meat like a food insecure cat. He was your least favorite of all, acting as if he knew everything simply because he had been a doctor before his incident. Not like it mattered in Belle Reave, and certainly not in the monster sector they were kept in.

“Woah. Calm down, I’m not takin’ that from you.” A huff came from him, head tilted to the side as he watched you, almost intrigued with the way you acted. He simply stepped past you, walking over to the sink and simply staring down at the blood that had graced the basin. “This yours?”

The link fell from your mouth, rolling into the shards of glass and crimson as the fangs retracted back into your gums, eyes returning to normal. All you could do was stare at him, as if he had asked the most stupid question in the world. Smartest man in the room your ass.

“Who else’s would it be?”

“Don’t know, thats why I’m asking. Flag and I got into a fight earlier and I totally won, so I’m just wondering.”

“Oh.”

He leans back against the countertop, facing you now, the sleeves of his hoodie protecting him from burning through the granite. Part of him had always intrigued you, in a way, everyone but Weasel had a signature outfit; but him? A hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. It was almost comical how simple he was, though you supposed there wasnt much he could keep. A step towards him, wincing at the sudden realization of what you had done.

His gaze followed yours, looking down to the glass and blood that gushed from your feet and ankles. The light from the fridge and his green glow illuminated the space between you two, dancing off the shards on the floor. Your mouth was covered as well, sloppily wiped onto your cheeks as you had feasted. God, you looked a mess, but the pain distracted you from that fact. Biting your bottom lip to muffle a pathetic whimper of pain.

“Cmon don’t cry, what’s a little glass among friends?”

“I am not crying.”

If he had eyes to roll no doubt he would’ve. Stepping over to you and hooking an arm around your shoulder to help you stand without any warning. Your first instinct is to fight him off, to tell him no and shout at him, but you don’t. Instead, you lean into the touch and allow him to help you hobble up the stairs to, what you originally assume to be your room, but soon discover he’s guiding you into his, and then, into his bathroom.

Theres something almost intimate about the way he grabs your hips to help you onto the counter so he can patch you up. You hadn’t asked this from him, but it didn’t seem to matter much now as he filled a bucket with warm soapy water, dunking a rag in a few times and using the help of tweezers to pick the glass out of your skin. You do your best not to flinch, using the time to preoccupy yourself with washing off the blood from your face.

John 13. You detest the thought, Belle Reave had ripped every ounce of belief from your body, but the ceremonies and rituals of your youth had not quite left your mind, and the intimacy of the moment didn’t help. Silence filled the room, the only noises being the soft sounds of the wash cloth being dunked into the water and squeezed out. You’d seen it before, a relatives wedding, the washing of the feet ceremony. It’s meant to be intimate, to be between spouses, to show commitment and love just as Jesus had to his disciples. You feel far more like Judas, however, with the monster that festers inside you.

“So. What was that?” His voice snaps you from your thoughts, eyes fluttering down to look at him, hesitating at his question. You don’t have a good answer, not one that wraps everything up into a neat bow at the least. Just what you know, which isn’t much.

“It’s the reason I’m classified as a monster. Theres… something that lives inside me, a devil of sorts I was always told. It’s been there for as long as I can remember, its why I had to wear the collar back in confinement. It starts to creep out whenever I slip, get too comfortable or let my guard down.” You’re quiet, not wanting to break the softness of this encounter. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re all freaks, its the whole point of this task force.”

“I guess. I’m still sorry.”

A huff comes from Phosphorus as he grabs a clean washcloth, dunking it in fresh water and reaching up to wipe off some of the blood that you had missed, that still marrs your mouth and flesh. He’s close, now, very much so. He smells of sulfur, though it does not cause you to recoil or scrunch your nose; its a scent you’ve grown accustomed to with the monster that shares your body. Can a skeleton be attractive? Is that possible?

You lean into the feeling of the warm washcloth against your cheek; having been so long since someone had touched you. Before you had been arrested you indulged in sin, lust, it had engulfed your body and it wasn’t a feeling you ever wanted to encounter again. How it could consume your entire being, give control over to someone other than yourself. It’s a fine line for you, but you feel the distantly familiar feeling of butterflies flutter in your stomach at the proximity of him.

You feel sick; like bile will creep up your throat any moment, but it doesn’t feel bad. Not with how he lets the cloth be a barrier between the two of you, between his hands that will burn your body at his touch. You’d welcome it, to let him cauterize your wounds and fix you. Your hands creep up to wrap around the back of his neck, protected by the hood of his sweater as you pull him closer. He’s warm, comfortable.

“I don’t like you apologizing, you look like a kicked puppy.”

“You’re smiling, though.”

“Can’t help it, I’m a skeleton, doll.”

His voice is a giveaway, though, possibly the most upbeat you had heard him despite the quiet and intimate nature of the room. You feel it, the radiating warmth from his other hand creeping down to your thigh, rubbing soft, soothing circles against the fabric that protects your skin from his touch. It would hurt, but a part of you almost welcomes it, wants to feel it.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes focused on the hand that slowly crept higher from your thigh. He’s close, his heat rivaling that at your core. You miss the way his head tilts to the side at your demeanor, hands grasping and releasing the fabric of his hoodie over and over.

Phosphorus said nothing as he continued to wipe some of the blood from your mouth, lingering over your bottom lip while his other hand becomes preoccupied with cupping you over your pajama pants, skeletal fingers pressing in to give you some friction.

That nausea you had felt earlier returns tenfold, punishing yourself for feeling anything remotely good. The situation reminds you far too much of the last time, dipping too far into bliss. It seemed you had only blinked when the body of the lover you had found for the night was strewn across the room, spitting half eaten entrails out of your maw. He guides you to lean back against the mirror, your hand clasping over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he slips below the fabric of your nightwear.

You can feel it again, the hunger that rises to your chest. Your hands shake against your skin now, nailbeds aching with the growing of your talons. A whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. You are selfish, greedy. You’d rather relish in this than warn him, to have one moment that allows you to feel human, to feel wanted and loved.

A sudden burning feeling rips you from your thoughts, your hand had been removed from its post over your mouth and was held in his. Tears well in your eyes at the feeling, the searing pain that washed over your body and forces you to see white. It aches, branding you.

“Shit.” Is all that falls from his mouth, moving his hand away before you needily grasp it once more. Intertwining your fingers, keeping him there. The pain had forced the monster away, talons no longer threatening to protrude from your nailbeds and spine ceasing its contorting. You are lucky, graced with an opportunity to feel something beneath the endless pit in your stomach. To feel him.

“Don’t stop.” Your breathless words are more than enough to encourage his continuation, slotting himself between you legs and pressing the suddenly tight fabric of his sweatpants against you. A soft sigh falling from your lips, head tilted back, hair fluffing up on the mirror as he began to rock against you.

“I wont.” Slow, at first, as if testing the waters to gauge your reaction. Soft whines emitting from somewhere behind the skeletal teeth that were on display for you. Your hand scrunches up his hoodie, dragging his chest closer to you as he began to pick up the pace.

Needy and pathetic, his hips grinding rougher against your pajama pants, the tent in his pants catching on your covered clit; pulling a gasp from you as you arched your back. He focused his movements in that spot, up and then down to elicit soft whines and moans from you. Matching his neediness, having been touched starved for so long.

You’d grown up with depictions of heaven, imaginary white fluffy clouds somewhere high above the Earth. But here, right now, you’re more than convinced this is paradise. Rough fabrics rocking against each other, keeping you grounded on the countertop you sit on, the mirror behind you beginning to fog up with your heavy breathing. Your hands still intertwined, the harsh stinging drowned out at the near bliss you faced.

Hes sloppy now, nearing his finish far faster than you despite your state. Harsh whines fall from him as he grinds against you a few more times before panting and leaning against you. He’s winded for a moment, catching his breath, though the hand not holding yours travels back down to rub against your core.

Hes rough, guiding you to gush around nothing. You can feel your heartbeat below, drumming uncomfortably as you bury your face in the neck of his hoodie. His hand slips below your pajamas once more, continuing to tease your swollen clit and soaked folds as tears pricked at your eyes, squeezing his hand to single for him to stop.

Within a moment, he did. Ceasing the torment though not removing his hand from under your pants. Allowing your juices to pool against the cotton of your underwear before guiding his hand lower, placing his palm flat against your thigh and removing his other hand from yours. It stings, the cleansing fire emitting from him, your hand already burned as he brands your thigh with his handprint.

“Perhaps we should act like this didn’t happen… I’m sure it would make being on a team awkward.”

“I-... Yeah. Agreed. I should, um, head to bed.” Awkward you lift yourself from the counter and fix your pajama pants, slipping off the granite and setting against the cold tile floor. Your feet still hurt, though not nearly as bad as they had hurt before and surely nothing in comparison to the feeling of him against your skin.

He gives little more than a nod as you slink out the door, stumbling down the hall to find your own room and quickly running a hot bath. It would soothe you, make everything better, you deemed. Stripping to allow yourself to sink into the warmth as a sigh falls from your lips, eyes drawn to the handprint marked on your thigh.

You trace the outline with your finger, over and over almost obsessively and silently cursing him for his words. An asshole, you remembered, your least favorite in the little ragtag team. Though, with the way he had whimpered and moaned against you, you were halfway convinced you may be able to fuck the sarcasm and ill wit out of him.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Sub!armin x reader collegeau

(PLEASE BABES IM BEGGNG YOUUUU🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾)

For Free

Tags: Sub!Armin x Fem!Reader, college!au, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, virgin!armin, overstimulation, light choking, vaginal sex, face riding, a small side of eremika,

Synopsis: Virgin!Armin doesn’t know how to get his dick wet :)

An: I’d love to start writing more for AOT if anyone else has any reqs they wanna see me flesh out <3 I don’t write sub men that often, so I hope this was satisfactory. Also, can we be so fr rn? Men who are nerdy and have nerdy interests are sooooo 🤭

"So, as I was saying. The artic also produces icebergs, so hypothetically speaking, if we could cut down on pollution and light pollution, we could have a slim shot of repairing-"

"Armin, I am begging you. Please shut the fuck up and eat your food." Eren annoyingly snaps at him while rolling his eyes. He was currently stabbing at his portion of chicken aggressively with his fork.

"I was listening to him. Don't be an ass." You retort while elbowing Eren in his side. Your eyes then fixate back on Armin. "You're saying that we potentially could repair the artic to an extent?" You prompt for him to go on his little tangent about the artic and ocean.

If someone asked you why you were so interested, you'd make up some lie about how you're writing a paper on the effects of pollution and global warming. In reality, you actually just loved listening to your cute blonde friend spill his heart out about his hyper fixations.

Your eyes glass over as Armin goes back to explaining to you the intricacies of the environment and global warming. Your mind wanders to how he’d look if you just got on your knees for him and gave him the best head of his life. You could almost bet that he’d be the type to whimper.

“You need to get laid like it’s detrimental at this point.” Eren grumbles while shaking his head. “You quite literally are putting off an energy that scares away the hoes.”

“And what hoes are you trying to attract?” Mikasa asks as she finally settles in next to Eren. She was running late to lunch after helping Historia out carrying somethings to the teacher’s lounge.

“None-! But if I were, Armin would scare them away.” Eren replies, and you notice how his hand snaked underneath the table towards Mikasa’s thigh.

“Stop being such an ass. He’s just passionate about something. No one treated you like shit when you went through your little skating phase.” You speak up once again, getting real sick of Eren’s pissy attitude.

“It’s okay, yn. We can talk about this later.” Armin finally speaks up, giving you a small defeated smile that crushes your soul. Underneath the table, you gently bump your foot against his foot.

His face doesn’t show it, but his heart flutters in his chest as he bumps his foot back against yours. It’s such a small act of affection, but it’s your guy’s way of just checking in with each other. Essentially, it was a way to silently say, “I’m here for you.”

“Armin, you’re still a virgin, aren’t you?” Eren asks as he takes an aggressive bite from his food.

Your foot ever so gently slides up Armin’s leg, making his breath hitch in his throat. His face flushes a bright red as he avoids everyone’s gaze.

“I don’t know why that matters.” He mutters quietly, not liking where Eren was going with this.

“I’m taking that as a yes then.” Eren continues. “Any reason in particular why you haven’t slept with anyone yet?”

Your eyes focus on Armin’s face as you’re curious as well. Armin isn’t ugly. He’s sweet, smart, and incredibly patient. Girls have approached him in the past, but he always just opts to keep them at arms length.

“I just..” Your foot gently presses into his inner thigh, seeing how far he’d let you take this. Armin immediately coughs as if trying to hide his reaction to your blatant flirting. “… haven’t found the right one.. I guess.”

“The right one? Armin, you need to just get it out of the way. I’ll literally pay someone to sleep with you.” Eren half-laughs, which means he’s probably only half-joking.

“That’s prostitution, Eren, and it’s illegal.” Armin replies with a small frown, not liking that his best friend is quite literally offering to pay for his virginity to be taken.

“I’d do it for free.” You casually offer with a small shrug. Armin’s eyes go wide as he stares at you from across the table, and Eren chokes on his soda. Mikasa just has a calm smile on her face as she watches this all go down.

“Of course you would. You’re practically riding his dick all the time anyways.” Eren retorts after he gains his composure back.

“Yep, you’re right. Now, I’m going to go do it for real too.” You respond as you stand from your chair. Your hand reaches over and grabs Armin’s hand before leading him out of the mess hall.

His hand is trembling in yours, and he can’t find the words to say right now. His heart is beating so loudly that he almost can’t hear. The only thing on his mind was that you’re finally noticing him.

Armin turned down the girls who tried to flirt with him because he has his eyes set on you. He’s had the fattest crush on you since you met their little friend group in college.

Not knowing how to handle his feelings, he had once confided in Eren and Mikasa. Both of them said it was stupid obvious that you liked him back, but he refused to believe it. How could a girl as pretty and confident as you like him??

You let out an exasperated sigh as you shut your dorm door behind you, locking it so no one else can bother you too. Armin’s entire face is red, and he’s fumbling with his fingers.

“You don’t have to be so nervous. You know I was kidding, right?” You softly laugh at him while taking your shoes off. You then crawl up onto your bed and settle down. “I just was tired of listening to Eren, and I figured you needed a break too…”

Armin can’t help the way his demeanor subtly drops. He feels so naive for thinking you were actually going to take his virginity. You probably detested the thought of doing so- He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly before he also sits down on your bed.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” He mumbles quietly, and he keeps his gaze away from you.

You quickly pick up on his change in attitude. He almost seems… disappointed? Your eyes lock for a moment, and you observe his pretty blue eyes looking back into yours. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he's giving you puppy dog eyes.

"Don't tell me you're disappointed." You lightly joke, lips curling into a smile as you gently nudge him.

Armin lets out a soft exhale of amusement, and he clams up for a moment. "Well.. I.. can't say that I wasn't a little bit excited." He admits sheepishly.

"Excited for me to take your virginity?" You prompt, shifting your position on your bed to where you and Armin's faces are a few inches apart. "I didn't think you really cared about that sort of thing."

"Sex?" Armin asks while his eyebrows pinch together slightly. He's giving a small cute pout. "I know it's hard to believe, but I am still a guy.."

"Oh? Is this when you give me the spill about having urges and desires too?" You tease him, and he's slowly leaning back against your pillows. Your body carefully shifts on top of his.

His heart is hammering through his chest - his nervousness and excitement making him feel like he's going to explode. He just hoped you didn't notice how painfully hard he was already. He had been subtly concealing a boner since you offered to take his virginity.

"Is that what you want to hear?" He asks as he gazes up at you. At this point you're straddling his waist. Your hands are pressed to his chest.

"You know... yeah, tell me what urges and desires the infamous nerdy Armin Arlert has." You raise an eyebrow at him with a lopsided grin, excited to hear about what fantasies he conjures up in that cute head of his.

"Well... I think a lot about you..."

"Yeah..? What about me?" Your hands slowly rub up and down his chest, and you can feel his hard on pressing desperately against your thigh.

"J-just about..." He's stuttering now, and his face is flushing a deep red as you're not giving him must leeway to escape this. "Your lips... how soft they'd feel."

"You think about kissing me?" Your hips shift ever so subtly, causing a small gasp from Armin.

"Amongst other things..." He breathes out, but he's given no chance to gather himself before you take his wrists and pin them to the sides of his head.

You lean down over him, hovering your lips right over his. "If you want it... take it." You whisper softly, your breath ghosting over his lips, causing him to shiver.

A small whimper escapes him before he leans up, and he captures your lips in a sweet, innocent kiss. You ease up on his lap, allowing for him to control the kiss for a moment.

He kisses you needily - so desperate to feel more, but he isn't quite sure on how to initiate that. Your lips are as soft as he imagined, and you taste like strawberry poundcake. He's already so addicted. It was his first kiss, and you were already rotting him from the inside out.

Your hands release his wrists, and you cup his jaw instead, taking control of the kiss. Your teeth tease his bottom lip, showing him exactly how to achieve what he wants. Your tongues clash together, and his hands find your hips. His thumbs rub into your hip bones, loving the feeling of you in his lap.

After a while, you finally part from him. A small thin string of saliva connects you two as you're both panting, trying to recover from the steamy kiss.

"What else is do you want?" You whisper softly, intending to give this man whatever he so asks for.

"I- I want..." His voice is breathy, overcome with intense lust as he lifts his hips up, hoping you'll get the memo.

"Sayy it." You taunt with an evil smile.

"Please- I... I want you to use me." He whines, and he tilts his head back slightly as his bulge grinds so nicely against your core.

Your hips begin to roll, adding on to the fiction for both of you. You can tell through his pants that Armin isn't exactly small like most people would believe him to be since he's not exactly tall.

"Mmmnph~" His breathing is labored as he feels his tip already making a mess in his boxers. He quickly grabs your hips and stills them before he can make a real mess.

"What is it-? Did I do something wrong?" You ask in a concerned tone before you realize just how red his face his. He looks so disheveled already. His blonde hair was a mess upon his head.

"N-no... it was really good." He admits quietly. "Too good... I didn't want to..." His voice trails off, and he looks away from you with an embarrassed look.

"Oh.. I see.." You reply with a small grin, finding it cute how worked up he gets. You slowly ease your pants and panties down your legs, and you toss them onto the ground.

“Do you ever watch porn while thinking about these things?” You ask, going back to his fantasies.

“Mmm.. sometimes, but the mental image is enough most times.” His eyes glance down towards your thighs and lower half. “Some… sometimes I imagine you riding my face…”

“Oh?” You prompt with a small smile. “Do you want me to sit on your face?”

Armin nods his head quickly, and he scoots his body down lower, already prepping for you to take your rightful seat on his tongue. He’s nervous about eating you out for the first time, but he’s nearly drooling at the thought of you putting your weight down on his head. He wonders just how sweet you’ll taste.

“Is that a yes?”

“Please..” He asks so sweetly. You have to reward him.

You crawl up to where his head is laid back against your mattress, placing your legs on either side of his face, and your fingers comb through his messy blonde hair. He looks up at you through his eyelashes with a truly pitiful gaze.

“Tap my thigh three times if you can’t breathe, okay sweet boy?” You ask to make sure he understands. He nods his head without a second thought before leaning up to press a kiss against your cunt.

Eren had talked about eating Mikasa out before to Armin… despite Armin’s many, many attempts to make him shut up. Eren would tell Armin that he wouldn’t stop until she was a shaky mess on top of him. That was Armin’s goal. He wanted to feel your thighs tremble from his tongue.

“Good boy…” You purr as you slowly lower yourself onto his mouth. Armin immediately seems to just know what to do as if it was pure instincts coursing through him.

He starts off slow, pressing gentle kisses against your cunt before he starts to lap at you. A hum fleas him as he savors the taste of you. Just as sweet as he imagined.

With his tongue, he finds the small button of nerves at the top of your cunt. He immediately knows what it is by the way your body jolts upwards a bit, and a small whine falls from your lips.

He reaches up, and he pulls a bit more down onto his tongue. He doesn’t like how you’re hovering — as if you’re scared to hurt him. He wants to feel you sit - not hover.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You murmur quietly to him, which only makes him more determined to make you sit.

“You’re not going to hurt me. Please, I want you to sit.” He pulls your hips again. “Use me.” He whines as he starts to gently suckle on your clit, making you jolt again.

His hands massage the flesh of your ass, and he starts to force your hips to rock back and forth while he flattens his tongue against your slippery folds.

You taste so fucking divine. Armin’s completely lost in your essence. His eyes are fluttered shut as he’s licking, kissing, suckling every thing you’ll allow him to.

Your hand is entangled in his pretty blonde hair as your hips are rolling back and forth. His nose bumps against your swollen clit, making you clench around nothing. You’ve never experienced head like this — not when most men make it sound like a chore. Armin sees it as a blessing.

The sounds in the room sound like they’re straight from a porno as your cunt sounds so sticky and drenched. Armin’s making soft hums and whines as he’s eating you like a starved man. Your moans fill the room — not caring if anyone could hear you next door.

“Just like that.. f-fuck.. gonna make me finish.” You pant, unable to even think straight while he’s plunging is tongue in and out of you.

Armin flutters his eyes open to look up at you. You’re so fucking pretty. How did he get so lucky? The way you’re completely coming undone on top of him has him literally trying to hump the air. His neglected cock sits flush against his tummy, leaking clear pre-cum all over himself and his clothes.

“Armin-!” You cry his name as you clench around air. More juices seep from your weeping hole, and he’s quick to clean you up with his tongue.

Your breath staggers as you come down from your orgasm. Of all people, Armin Arlert was the first to make you finish off head.

He’s not done though. Your thighs haven’t trembled yet. His hands grip around you, forcing you to keep gyrating on his tongue. He’s getting absolutely nasty with it, desperate to make you spent.

“O-oh god- wait, Armin— I f-finished.” You try to tell him, thinking he didn’t catch on, but he doesn’t relent.

His eyes almost have a smoldering gaze as he looks up at you with his mouth occupied with your cunt. His hands are kneading at the fat of your ass before he drags one finger towards your entrance.

“H-hold on. Wait- I-“ You’re nervously babbling, already feeling overstimulated. So when he slips his digit deep into your sopping wet cunt, and he curls it juuust right… you’re a shaking mess on top of him.

He smiles against your core, knowing now that he can stop. He slips his finger out, and he pressed a saccharine kiss to your pussy before tapping on your thigh.

Your body is trembling as you slowly lean up from his face, and you’re trying to stabilize your breath.

Armin just looks up at you, waiting for feedback on his little performance.

“You did such a good job. Good boy.” You praise before pressing light kisses along his cheeks. You can feel the way his face heats up when you praise him like that.

You finally press a kiss to his lips after a few moments, tasting yourself on his tongue. Armin lifts his hips up again, reminding you that he’s so painfully pent up. He’s aching for release.

Your hands find the waistband of his jeans, and you carefully unbutton them while continuing to intertwine your lips with his. He whines when you part from the kiss.

Once his jeans and boxers are off, you finally get to admire his pretty cock slapped against his tummy. His tip was coated in sweltering pre-cum. Just to tease him, you scoot down and give his tip a small kitten lick, tasting the sweet and salty taste of his arousal.

“Mmph- yn-“ Your name sounds like a plea when he whines it. His cock immediately flexes underneath your tongue. You giggle and give him another small kitten lick. “Ah~ please…”

“Please what?” You ask, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Need to b-be inside you.. please miss.” He whines so shamelessly, abandoning all his previous embarrassment. He can’t afford to be shy when he’s craving the feeling of your gummy walls tightening around him.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You scoot your hips back up, and you grind against him a few times, getting his cock nice and coated in your slick.

Armin’s practically fisting at the bedsheets. Feeling your bare pussy rubbing against him was soooo much better than when you were still clothed.

“Miss..” He whimpers softly as his hips flutter upwards to rub against you in an act of desperation. “Miss, can you… take your shirt off please..?”

You gaze at him puzzled for a moment. It was an odd time to make that sort of request, but who were you to deny such a needy plea?

Your hands pull your shirt above your head, and you toss it off the side of your bed. Your hips go back to rocking against him as his tip is kissing strings of pre-cum to your clit.

He admires the way your black lacy bra sits flush against your skin. It only solidifies in his mind just how out of his league you are. He’ll never be able to comprehend just why you’re deciding to give him a chance.

“M-may I..?” He asks as his hands reach for the backside of your bra. As much as he loves the way the fabric cups your breasts so beautifully, he’s after something else.

“Go ahead, baby.” You answer him, and he’s quick to unhook your bra as if he had practiced before.

Eren definitely taught him how, but you don’t need to know that!

Armin watches with wide, excited eyes are your breasts bounce from the confines of your bra. His hand gently kneads on one, loving how your soft pillowy flesh filled his hand.

His eyes gaze upward at you as he leans in and captures your nipple into his mouth. His mouth feels attentive as he carefully swirls his tongue around the pebble, and he gently sucks on it while his eyes fall shut.

Maybe he’s died. This must be what heaven feels like. The only thing that’ll make this better is if..

One of your hands entangle in his hair, and the other hand reaches behind you. Your fingers wrap around his length before guiding him inside you.

Armin immediately moans pitifully around your mound. He has to detach from you to focus all his attention on not busting inside you immediately like the pathetic virgin he is.

“Are you alright, baby?” You ask him with a devious grin. If you weren’t focused on teasing him so much, you’d probably be as much of a mess as he is.

“S-so tight.. fuck yn- I can’t-!” He’s nearly crying as you sink yourself down on top of him, until he’s buried to the hilt.

You try to lift your hips up, but Armin’s hands wrap around your hips, and he forces you right back down onto his lap. “N-not yet. Please miss-“ You’re honestly taken aback by how strong he is. Even though he doesn’t look it, he could overpower you if he wanted. “D-don’t wanna come yet.”

“So sensitive.” You purr as you lean down towards him. Your hand cups his cheek, and you stroke his face with your thumb. “I thought you wanted to be used, baby.”

“I do.. I just… don’t want to leave you unsatisfied.”

“Oh, what a gentleman.” You laugh softly before pressing a kiss to his nose. “Well, if you finish and I’m not done yet, I’ll just keep going. I’ll use you again and again until I’m spent.”

His cock literally twitches inside of you from your words, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. He feels nervous yet so damn excited. His legs are literally flinching from his nerves.

His hand loosen up, and you get to work, riding him like you two wouldn’t see each other tomorrow.

You’re just so fucking wet and tight. Armin knows there’s no way he’s going to last long, not when you feel like paradise between your legs.

Within the minute, Armin is emptying himself deep inside you. “G-gods! Fuck, miss… ‘m sorry.” You give him an understanding smile, and you help ride out his orgasm. “‘m sorry.” He whimpers again before he takes your nipple back into his mouth, showing you just how sorry he is.

He’s a sorry man who can’t get enough of your delicious cunt milking him until you’re done for.

His cum seeps out and coats his cock as you continue to bounce yourself up and down. Armin’s a complete whiny mess as he’s trying to cope with how completely sensitive his cock is.

“Ah~ fuck miss… mmmph~ sooo good.” He’s completely babbling praises to your sopping wet cunt.

“You… ngh.. like being used like this?” You ask, and your hand lightly wraps around his neck, testing the waters. You don’t squeeze at all, just showing that you could if you wanted to.

“I love it.. wanna be yours, miss. Please, make me yours.” He pleas. You’re completely enamored with how much of a mess he is. He’s truly begging to be yours.

“Mine.” You mumble as you feel your stomach beginning to coil. With each rock of your hips, you’re growing closer and closer.

Unlatching your hand from his neck, you lean in and suck love bites into his neck, laying your claim on him.

Armin doesn’t ever cuss, but he has a complete sailor’s mouth when he’s balls deep inside you. “F-fuck.. miss-! cumming!” He warns before his cock is shooting into you once again.

His legs are shaking beneath you as his orgasm washes over him completely once again. His cock is weakly twitching inside you, so terribly sensitive that it almost hurts.

“Wan’ me to finish on you?” You whisper into his ear while your hips are desperately moving up and down. Your poor bed is creaking with each movement, and Armin’s just barely hanging onto his sanity by a thread.

“P-please… please cum on me.. wan’ to feel you.” His voice is a mere whimper, and he carefully reaches between your two. His thumb presses against your clit before he rubs in slow circles.

“Fuck— just like that.. goood boy..” You can’t even find your breath as you’re chasing after your high.

Your entire body gyrates on top of him once your orgasm finally crashes over you. Your vision is nearly doubled from how hard you finish on top of him.

A whiny groan leaves Armin’s lips as he feels you clenching around him. His body is so hyper sensitive. He feels like a million little lightning bolts are striking him all over. His skin feels like electricity against yours.

You take a moment to catch your breath finally as you stay on his lap. Both of you are completely disheveled together.

“Did I… do good?” He quietly asks you, hoping that it was as good for you as it was for him.

“Did soooo good.” You smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

He smiles softly, and he leans into your touch. “Can we get cleaned up now..? I had a thought provoking epiphany while I was coming inside you about how we could help the atmosphere.”

Oh, to be loved by a nerdy man.

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream and things in your shared apartment that makes sense.

Mark Lee ; subtle spiderman decorations.

It was a silly fandom joke but Mark took it seriously like lol okay spidermark we see you. So it makes sense that your shared apartment with him has some subtle spiderman decorations. And it's not like you two thought about it, it just happened that when you two go shopping and saw something spiderman-related, you two would buy it impulsively. There's a lego spiderman both in your apartment keys. A small spiderman figurine lay silently on the corner of bedside table. Or maybe there's a "I love Spiderman" magnet on your fridge too. Either way, it's cute and reminds you of your boyfriend so much. 

Huang Renjun ; touches of your favorite color.

When you two first bought the shared apartment, you and Renjun discussed about the overall design of the flat, especially the color combination. Making sure that you two can come in terms, your apartment felt like a light spring because of the color combination. You two made it worked and it feels like home for the two of you! Also, you two are very meticulous with the design, like it took you guys a week to fully designed the whole apartment but it was worth it because it turned out so beautiful! <3

Lee Jeno ; everything comes in pairs!

Like. Literally. Everything. Is a pair. That's why the Dreamies would complain why you two only have two sets of plates and utensils, and Jeno would shrug, it's not like you two need more lol. The first thing you'll see is two pairs of home slippers, and key holder only has two hook. There's one long couch that only fits two people, and in the bathroom, there's a pair of toothbrush rest idly on the holder! But it's a cute way to show that the apartment is owned by a couple who's very minimal and tranquil with their life. <3

Lee Donghyuck ; mismatched decorations

I feel like the overall aesthetic of your shared apartment with Haechan is kinda chaotic but the more you stare at it, the more you think that hey, it's not that bad at all. Like it's fine that your collection of sonny angels is right next to Haechan's pc set-up. Or how a lego figurine of a sportscar is line-up on top of a cabinet and then, there's this cute miffy lamp next to it. Everything's just mismatched but it's your shared apartment, and no one seems to bat an eye at the confusing aesthetic of the apartment. 

Na Jaemin ; photobooks as coffee table center

Okay mr. narcissism, it's no surprise that you have a set of photobooks on top of your coffee table. It probably contains: (1) pictures of you two on a vacation together, (2) portraits of the people he love the most, or (3) portraits of Dreamies! He swells in pride whenever there are guests and they would look into the photobook and just admire the portraits that he captured. Plus, it's placed in your shared apartment! He was just happy that his three kids hasn't chew the photobook yet, (and hopefully not!)

Zhong Chenle ; scattered bitten objects

It's not like your apartment's messy, but Daegal is such a hyper dog despite being your princess. She just loves to play and even though her teething phase is finished, she still lovesssss carrying objects to bite. You'll just go home to your apartment and find that Daegal had reached the throw pillow and now it's on the floor, ripped open with a few cottons on the floor and you couldn't be angry with her because she has her puppy eyes waiting for you. <3 Plus, you know how your boyfriend tolerates Daegal's biting habits lol. 

Park Jisung ; a bed full of plushies

OH. Your bed with Jisung is just full of plushies and that's because you're obsessed with plushies and couldn't sleep without cuddling one. (Jisung would complain that you should just cuddle him instead.) He only have a few plushies there but you tend to just fill the bed that when morning comes, some of the plushies were already on the floor. You would pick them up and apologize for pushing them off the floor while your boyfriend just stares at you. But at the same time, he doesn't mind because it's like you two have a big family whenever he goes home and sees the pile of plushies on the bed. 

[bamfkeeper]

SFW Headcannons: Kurt and his Bamfs

a/n: Obviously I love the bamfs, and I had to do some of these with them because I adore them and I want my own army of them, damnit. Depictions heavily taken from Nightcrawler (2014) comic series. Pretty hasty, just a fun little set of headcannons. I hope you enjoy <3

The bamfs were something you hadn't anticipated, there were so many and their origin was difficult to wrap your head around. Kurt tried to explain it, but you were distracted by the curious bamfs staring at you.

They were adorable, about a dozen? Maybe more? They all were curious, they looked at you with big, round eyes. They seemed so innocent, and you couldn't help but smile.

Kurt was skeptical, they usually weren't this well behaved. You adored these little guys, and welcomed them like a horde of puppies rushing to you. They all jumped on you and made cooing noises as they played, like actual puppies. They were so playful, you didn't understand why Kurt was confused.

That was until you realized that the bamfs were as mischievous as they were playful. They were little gremlins, slightly destructive, and they tended to get into trouble like toddlers.

The bamfs don't speak, but they make an array of noises. Coos, squeaks, hisses, trills, etc. They communicate mostly through noises you come to recognize and body language.

They were a handful, they would make messes and look guilty after. You wanted to scold them, but their big round eyes looked up and that guilt got to you. You forgave them of course, Kurt sometimes says you have to be a little more firm with them or they will always guilt trip you to get away with things.

You didn't care. They practically adopted you as their mama.

There are lots of them, but you always show them equal love and affection. They are pretty needy for it, and like feeling pampered in the way that you treat them.

The bamfs get jealous easy too.

They are protective of you, just like Kurt, and they won't hesitate to keep you safe the best they can. They hiss and the fur on their backs raise a little.

Don't be fooled by their small size, they are like blue darts, they are incredibly hard to fight if they attack.

Each one has their own personality. They are all playful and a handful of troublemakers, but each one has something that makes them unique. More sensitive, more artistic, more sneaky, etc.

You love sleeping now because you have a big nest full of small blue bamfs curling up against you. They're so fuzzy and warm, you hold as many as you can to your chest while they rest pile around you.

Some bamfs stay behind when Kurt goes away just to keep you company.

You really do love taking care of them, and Kurt loves to watch you love on the bamfs. He thinks it's endearing and sweet.

He doesn't understand how you seem to get the bamfs to do what you say. They listen to him, but normally he has to say something over and over before they decide to listen. With you, it's instantaneous. You ask them to calm down, they do. You ask them to stop fighting, they do. It boggles him how they just obey you so easily.

Part of him thinks they only obey you to annoy him even further, and that might be true, but they also care a lot about you and they want nothing but to see you happy.

Also these things can EAT. They consume so much food you think their little tummies are going to explode. They have a strong liking for popcorn and sweets, to which Kurt tries to limit because hyper bamfs are extremely difficult to deal with.

However, a dozen or so begging you with their eyes is so hard to say no to.

And thus, you have a house full of bamfs bouncing off the walls.

You have a lot of fun with the bamfs, they can be a bit overwhelming from time to time, but at the end of the day when you get into bed and they all come snuggling close to you, you know it's worth it.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover photo from Nightcrawler #1 (2014)

[ramblinscramblin]

your headcanons were great, may i rq general cuddling headcanons? if you don't want to do all of them then just medic, scout and sniper pls :3

→Cuddling Headcanons

Genre: tooth rotting fluff

Characters: Medic, Scout, Sniper + Demoman and Engie

EEEKK! I love this so so much! I will likely revisit this and add some more of the mercs in the future, I just have so many requests right now and I want to keep working through them so for now it will just be there three. Let’s goooo!

Scout

Scout is super restless as we know, so you have to get okay with the idea of changing postions a lot.

Loves to cuddle though, clings onto you like a life line. Likes to lay directly on top of you, kind of curled around your body.

Kiss him a lot during cuddling, he blushes and melts every time.

If he senses you getting annoyed/upset with the amount he moves he will hold his breath to try and stay as still as possible. Doesn’t usually last long though.

Chatty, like normal, you guys cuddle while ranting about your days.

Secretly prefers being the small spoon.

Sniper

Sniper likewise, clings to you like his life depends on it. Every time you readjust he asks if you’re getting up, even if he was just dead asleep.

Light sleeper, anything and everything wakes him up. Too loud? He’s awake. Too quiet? He’s awake then too.

Sort of likes his personal space, so cuddling is rare which honestly makes it even more rewarding.

Sleepy kisses on your temple/shoulders, he likes to run his fingers up and down your arm.

Medic

Medic is very into cuddling, it is necessary for you to be within arms reach for him to sleep.

Will complain and whine if you’re not around for him when he wants to go to sleep.

Medic prefers to cuddle with the two of you facing each other, arms wrapped around the others back. Hand running up and down your spine and neck.

If you’re ticklish he is hyper aware of that, and will absolutely use it against you.

Generally very playful while cuddling, likes kissing your neck just as you finally starting dozing off. He’s annoying I love him.

Demoman

He’s also pretty restless too, to be honest, unless he’s drunk, then he’s out like a light.

Likes to cuddle on the couch with you, the closer the better!

He wants to live inside your rib cage secretly, doesn’t want to be apart from you. Cuddling is the closest he can get.

If you choose to show your hair/have hair he loves to play with it! Tender stuff like that is his specialty, will melt if you do the same.

Deep sleeper, you don’t ever have to worry about waking him up.

Engineer

Oh my god he’s so comfortable to lay on I just know it.

Likes to be the big spoon, but will cuddle however you want.

Sleeps like a rock, once he gets into a comfortable position he won’t budge at all.

I have a headcanon that he is a sleep talker, do with that information what you will.

Likes to scratch your back lightly while the two of you are cuddling, especially while you tell him about your day. Give him that domestic nonsense right now.

In truth, I wrote demo and Engie totally on accident. Forgot the characters you asked for almost immediately and went totally rouge, but I hope you enjoyed anyways haha!

[bimrwolf]

The Christmas Arrangement (Part 3)

steve harrington x fem!reader words: 10,996 warnings: 18+ minors dni :P summary: Steve Harrington thought asking his stubborn intern to play his girlfriend for the holidays would be simple. But "pretend" starts to get a little complicated when moments feel a little too real. a/n: sigh i really love pathetic steve. you only get a tiny glimpse but sigh... also full transparency... conflict with these two will be so hard to write. Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (coming soon)

You absentmindedly played with hair on Steve’s chest. Neither one of you were naked, you had snuck one of his old Hawkins High t-shirts on while he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. It still managed to expose your underwear and you laughed when he had to run a hand over his face. 

He had settled on only wearing shorts and now you could really cherish his bare chest, running a finger over a few scars that looked strangely similar to his friend Eddie. 

To you, being like this… so domestic, made you wound up even more. “What you said today. Was it all true?” You asked softly. 

Your cheeks warmed up at his chuckle. “Which part?” 

You smirked, laying your chin on his chest so you could look at him. “That you had a giant crush on me when I started working for you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “We’re not in middle school. It wasn’t a crush.” 

“Did you want me to go on a date with you?” You shot back, an eyebrow raised. 

He frowned. “I didn’t just want to sleep with you if that’s what you’re getting at.” 

“That’s not what I was asking. I’m asking if you wanted to ever ask me to go to dinner with you.” You poked him playfully. 

He looked away, blushing, already giving you the answer you wanted. “‘Course I did,” he mumbled. 

You grinned, kissing his stomach. “Then you had a crush on me. And according to what you said to your friends, it was huge.” 

“I thought us having sex meant you would be less annoying.” He didn’t mean it because he was smiling. You took it as a term of endearment. 

You bit his shoulder. 

“Ow! What was that for?” He rubbed the spot your teeth grazed his skin. 

“Because you won’t admit you had a crush on me.” You pretended to pout. “Being mean has consequences, Mr. Harrington.” 

He no longer tried to attempt to hate the name. You had deemed it his kryptonite, making his face red. His smug smile made you wonder how he could be so shy yet so effortlessly cocky. “I did not have a crush on you. I was only hyper-aware of everything you did.” 

“Hyper-aware?” you repeated with a grin, leaning closer. “So you were staring at me in the skirt.”

Steve groaned again, this time with real defeat. “Okay, fine. Yes. I noticed the skirt. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” you said smugly, planting a kiss on his jaw. “You’re lucky I think it’s cute, otherwise this would be a serious HR violation.”

He snorted, tugging you closer so your body was flush against his. “Yeah, because HR would really love hearing about this part.”

“It’s so cute to see you flustered,” you teased, trailing your fingers over his collarbone. 

He scoffed, his lips twitching as if he was fighting a smile. “Flustered? You think this is me flustered?”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “Absolutely. Look at you—you’re blushing.”

Steve sat up slightly, flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion. He hovered over you, his face just inches from yours. “Blushing, huh?” His voice was low, teasing. “You sure it’s not you who’s flustered now?”

You bit your lip, refusing to back down. “Not even a little. You, on the other hand…”

His gaze flicked to your mouth, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. “Guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

Before you could retort, his lips found yours, cutting off whatever sarcastic remark was on the tip of your tongue. You sighed against his mouth, your arms sliding around his neck.

“Still think I’m the flustered one?” he murmured between kisses, his hand slipping beneath the hem of his t-shirt you were wearing.

“Mmm,” you answered stubbornly. 

Steve’s lips moved to your jaw, the slow press of his mouth sending shivers down your spine. He murmured, “Okay… I had a huge, massive, impossible-to-ignore crush on you. Are you satisfied?”

The weight of his admission settled over you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You thought you’d been joking about the crush, but the way he looked at you now—like he was letting you in on some carefully guarded secret—made your chest ache.

You lifted his face from your neck, blinking. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel good,” you said softly, half-teasing, half-serious.

Steve shook his head, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’m not saying it for you,” he admitted. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I mean, you were impossible to ignore.” He smirked. “I swear you lived to make my life harder.”

You laughed, though your throat felt tight. “You made it easy. You were such an ass sometimes.”

“I was not,” he protested. “I was the perfect picture of professionalism.” 

You narrowed your eyes, putting your hands on his chest. “You once made me rewrite a client report three times because I ‘missed the vibe.’”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t know how else to keep you in my office longer. Sue me.”

His words made your stomach flip, warmth spreading across your chest. You tried to brush it off, but the truth of it sat heavy in your thoughts. How many of those little moments—the extra meetings, the lingering conversations—had been him trying to be close to you? And how many had you brushed off as just Steve being Steve?

Your hand traced absent patterns over his chest, your voice softer now. “You really liked me back then?”

Steve’s gaze softened, the teasing falling away. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I liked you a lot. Still do.”

The sincerity in his voice made your breath catch. You could feel the weight of his words settle in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. His lips ghosted your nose before flopping on his back. 

His arm draped over your stomach and you thought you could stay like this forever. “What will happen when we get back?” 

You could feel his muscles tense. His arm tightened ever so slightly around your stomach, but the comfortable rhythm of his breathing faltered. He stared at the ceiling, his jaw working as if he was chewing on the words he didn’t want to say.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice low, almost reluctant.

You turned your head to look at him, your fingers pausing their absent tracing over his chest. “What do you mean you don’t know? We can’t just… pretend this didn’t happen, Steve.”

He let out a sharp breath, his hand coming up to rub his face. “I’m not saying we pretend, alright? I just—I don’t know how to handle this back at work. Everything’s different there. It’s not as simple as just�� being like this.”

Your brow furrowed, a flicker of frustration rising in your chest. “So what? It’s simple when we’re here, but it’s not when we go back? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s not the same,” he said, sitting up slightly, his arm pulling away from your stomach. His tone was still calm, but there was an edge to it, like he was trying to hold something back.

“Then explain it to me,” you urged, leaning up on your elbow. “Because right now, it just feels like you’re dodging the question.”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing heavily. “I’m not dodging it. I just—there’s a lot you don’t understand, alright?”

Your stomach twisted at his words. “What’s there to understand, Steve? Either this… whatever this is, matters, or it doesn’t.”

“It does matter,” he snapped, his voice sharp but not loud. His eyes softened almost immediately, and he sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It matters. You matter. That’s the problem.”

You blinked, the air in the room feeling heavier now. “How is that a problem?”

He looked at you then, his hazel eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you thought he might actually say it—whatever it was that was eating at him. But then he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “It just is.”

His words landed like a stone in your chest, and you sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Great. That clears it up,” you muttered, your voice laced with bitterness.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his tone softening.

“Do what?” you shot back, not looking at him.

“That thing where you get upset and shut me out,” he said, his hand hesitating near your arm before pulling back. “I’m trying here.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the warmth from earlier replaced with a tension that felt impossible to navigate.

“Goodnight, Steve,” you said finally, turning onto your side and pulling the blanket over yourself.

He didn’t respond right away, but you heard the soft rustle of him lying back down beside you. His arm didn’t reach for you this time, and the absence of his touch made your chest ache.

“Goodnight,” he murmured eventually, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

***

You woke to the faint light of morning filtering through the curtains, the early stillness of the house pressing in on you. The bed felt cold beside you, and when you reached out, your fingers met only empty sheets. Steve’s side was unmade, his pillow indented but no longer warm.

A flicker of irritation sparked in your chest, though you weren’t sure if it was directed at him or the lingering heaviness from the night before. Pushing the blanket off, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed at your face. You weren’t going to let his mood dictate yours today.

With more determination than usual, you rifled through your suitcase, pulling out clothes for the day. You usually found some excuse to slip into the bathroom to dress—privacy, politeness, whatever—but this time, you stayed right where you were. It wasn’t like Steve hadn’t seen you before, and a small, rebellious part of you wanted to prove a point.

You stripped out of the oversized Hawkins High t-shirt, tossing it onto the bed before pulling on a clean bra. The cool air against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, but you ignored it as you grabbed your jeans.

That’s when the sound of the front door opening reached your ears, followed by the faint scuff of shoes being kicked off and the creak of the stairs. You didn’t bother rushing to finish dressing. Let him walk in. Let him see. You didn’t care.

The door pushed open just as you were tugging your shirt over your head, the hem catching briefly as you adjusted it into place. Steve stood in the doorway, his hair damp with sweat and his breathing still a little uneven from his run. His shirt clung to him, outlining the curve of his shoulders and the lean muscle of his chest.

For a moment, his eyes flicked over you, lingering just a second too long before he caught himself and looked away, clearing his throat. “Morning.” His voice was neutral, careful, as if he was testing the air between you.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you grabbed your socks from the suitcase and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling them on with deliberate slowness. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of an acknowledgment, not when the weight of last night still sat heavily in your chest.

Steve hesitated in the doorway, his hand braced on the frame like he was debating whether to step inside or turn back. Finally, he muttered, “I’ll shower,” and disappeared into his bathroom, leaving the door ajar behind him.

You stared at the open doorway for a moment, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. This thing between you—it was confusing and messy, and you weren’t sure how much more of his silence you could take.

But for now, you tucked it all away, focusing on tying your shoes with sharp, decisive motions. If he wasn’t going to talk, then neither were you.

Your ears pricked when you heard his clothes fall to the bathroom floor. The shower turned on. You pursed your lips. He was playing the same game you were. Acting like everything was normal but in reality, you were in a silent argument. 

You huffed, storming inside the bathroom. You could see him look taken aback out the corner of your eye. You made a point to dramatically get your toothbrush ready. You stared at him in the mirror, thankful for his glass doors. 

Steve rolled his eyes, turning so you only had a view of his backside. Perfectly good view of his stupidly perfect butt. Touché. 

You left the bathroom, sitting at the edge of the bed, arms crossed. 

The tension in the room was thick as Steve stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, water dripping from his hair and trailing down his chest. A towel hung low around his waist, and he made a point of not looking at you as he crossed to the dresser by the window.

You stayed planted on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, your frustration simmering just beneath the surface. If he wanted to pretend nothing was wrong, fine. Two could play that game.

“You always take this long to shower?” you asked, your tone deliberately sharp.

Steve didn’t pause as he pulled open a drawer, rummaging through it with a forced casualness. “Didn’t know there was a time limit. You keeping track now?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “Just seems like you’ve been avoiding me since last night.”

He stilled for a fraction of a second before shaking his head and grabbing a pair of sweatpants. “Not everything’s about you, you know,” he said, stepping into the pants and letting the towel fall to the floor. “You also have been avoiding me.” 

“Right,” you muttered under your breath, your gaze flicking away as he turned to face you, his chest still bare. 

Steve leaned against the dresser, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges. He exuded the kind of casual ease that drove you up the wall. His hazel eyes flicked to where you sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, radiating irritation. He let out a dramatic sigh, dragging a hand through his hair.

“So, we’re still doing this?” he asked, his tone light but carrying that telltale edge of exasperation.

Your jaw tightened. “Doing what? Acting like nothing happened last night?”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Pretty sure nothing did happen.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to. “Oh, so now it’s nothing? Good to know where we stand, Steve.”

He froze mid-motion, his grip tightening on the shirt he’d grabbed. “That’s not what I meant,” he muttered, the defensive tone in his voice only making your chest ache more.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you snapped, standing abruptly. The bed creaked as you moved, but you didn’t care. “You’ve been doing a damn good job of avoiding anything that remotely resembles an answer.”

Steve tugged the shirt over his head, the motion rough, like he was trying to shove away the conversation along with it. “Maybe because I don’t have one,” he said, his voice clipped.

“You always have something to say, Steve,” you shot back, crossing your arms tighter. “So why not now? Not when it matters.”

His hands fell to his hips, and he stared at you, the tension radiating off him palpable. For a moment, the air between you crackled with frustration. Then he exhaled, his shoulders sinking slightly as the fight bled out of him.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he admitted, his tone quieter now, almost defeated.

The sudden shift in his demeanor threw you off, softening the edges of your frustration. You wanted to hold onto your irritation, but seeing him like this—so unsure—made it harder.

“I’m not trying to fight,” you said, your voice losing some of its sharpness. You sighed. “I was upset that you weren’t here when I woke up. I was worried you ran so you wouldn’t have to talk to me.”

Steve looked at you, his gaze softer but still guarded. “I’m sorry. I just…” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this. And I’m sorry I don’t have an answer to your question from last night. Back at work… everything is complicated and I don’t want you to lose respect or people think that you’re only around for my pleasure. ”

“Steve,” you began, but he interrupted, stepping closer.

“You’re so smart and honestly, you’ve saved my ass with clients more times than I can count,” he said, a faint, weary smile tugging at his lips. “You know that?” 

Your lips parted. You blinked at him. You wanted to kiss him but you stopped yourself. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with what you two were, and kissing him so casually seemed like something a couple would do.

Steve’s lips parted like he wanted to say something else, but whatever words he had were swallowed by hesitation. Instead, he reached for his wallet on the dresser, pulling out a sleek black credit card and holding it out to you.

You blinked, the gesture throwing you for a loop. “What’s this for?”

“For the dress,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “Nancy’s picking you up soon, right? You’re going shopping for the gala. Just get whatever you want.”

You hesitated, looking at the card in his hand. “You think this makes everything okay?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost testing.

He met your gaze, his eyes earnest. “No. It doesn’t. But I want to do it anyway. Not to fix things—just because.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity, but there was none. Finally, you reached out and took the card, sliding it into your pocket. “Fine,” you said. “But this doesn’t mean I’m not still upset with you.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a small smirk, a hint of his usual bravado returning. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.�� He reached his hand out, brushing your hair back.

You leaned into his touch briefly. “This is really turning out to be the plot of Pretty Woman, you know” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re not a hooker.” 

“I mean… you are paying me and you did have sex with me–”

“Will you go before I find a way to make you be quiet?” Steve’s deadpan face didn’t quite match the glimmer in his eyes. 

You leaned in closer. “Mr. Harrington, you’re proving my point.” You grinned suggestively. 

“I meant that if you don’t go I might smother you with a pillow.” He smiled at you, setting his hand on your waist. “I’ll see you there. I have to help my mom with some last minute things for tomorrow.” He gave you a small squeeze before letting go. 

You nodded, already feeling flustered. As you headed for the door, you paused in the doorway, glancing back over your shoulder. “Oh, and Steve?”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the dresser.

“I noticed you watching earlier,” you said with a smirk, the edge of your irritation softening into something teasing.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Not my fault you decided to put on a show.”

“Careful, Mr. Harrington,” you called as you descended the stairs. “Keep this up, and I might have to charge you extra.”

His voice followed you, warm and teasing. “Worth every penny.”

As you stepped outside to meet Nancy, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. 

***

Stepping into the shop felt like walking into a scene from a holiday movie. Twinkling fairy lights were strung along the racks of dresses, their warm glow reflecting off sequins and satin. A garland of pine and red ribbon framed the entrance, and the faint scent of cinnamon and cedar hung in the air.

The floor was covered in a plush cream carpet that muffled your footsteps, and soft Christmas music played in the background, the gentle hum of Bing Crosby’s voice blending with the quiet rustle of fabric.

A small tree decorated with miniature bows and glittering ornaments stood in one corner, and near the counter, a tray of cookies and a pot of hot cocoa invited customers to linger.

The dresses were arranged in neat, color-coded rows, each one seeming more glamorous than the last. Full-length mirrors in silver frames lined the walls, reflecting the soft glow of the lights and making the shop feel larger, almost magical. It was festive and cozy, but not overdone—a perfect balance that made you feel like something special was waiting just for you.

Your arm played as a rack, holding the few dresses that caught your eye. 

Nancy handed you another dress from the rack. “This one might work. It’s classic, but not boring.”

You held up the dark green gown she’d chosen, the silk fabric catching the light. It was beautiful, but your mind was too preoccupied to really focus. You hummed noncommittally, hanging it over your arm and pretending to browse.

Nancy noticed. “Alright, what’s up?” she asked, leaning against the rack. “You’ve been quiet.”

You hesitated, fingers skimming a sequined dress you weren’t really looking at. “Steve and I… had a little disagreement,” you admitted.

Nancy raised an eyebrow, encouraging you to continue.

“I brought up what happens when we get back to work,” you said, your voice low. “About us. You know, making it official—or at least not hiding it.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she stayed silent, letting you get it out. You wondered if she thought it was suspicious that you had never talked about it before. 

“He got weird about it,” you continued, sighing. “Dodged the question, acted like it was too complicated. I don’t know. I just… I don’t get it. Things feel so easy when we’re here. Why does it have to change just because we’re not at his house anymore?”

Nancy’s lips pressed together thoughtfully as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Steve has a history of… being cautious,” she said carefully.

“Cautious?” You turned to her, frowning.

“Yeah. When it comes to relationships, I mean,” she clarified. “It’s not that he doesn’t care—it’s the opposite. He cares too much, and it messes with his head. I think he’s scared of screwing it up. Again.”

Your chest tightened at her words. “Again?”

Nancy hesitated, her eyes flickering away for a moment. “The last time he got serious with someone… it didn’t end well. He cared more than she did, and she ended up breaking his heart. He tried to date after but none of them stuck. It was worse after his dad died.”

“Someone broke his heart?” It was a little unbelievable to you. The weight of her words settled between you, heavy and unspoken. But then it clicked. The look in her eyes, the careful way she was speaking—it was her. Nancy.

You felt your stomach twist as the realization sank in. She didn’t need to say it outright; the pieces were all there. 

“Oh,” you said softly, the single word carrying far more weight than you intended.

Nancy glanced at you, her expression apologetic. “It was a long time ago,” she said quietly. “And I know I hurt him, but I’ve seen how he is with you. It’s different. He’s different.”

You tried to school your expression, but it was hard to process everything all at once. Steve’s reluctance to make things official suddenly felt sharper, clearer, like a wound that hadn’t fully healed.

“I didn’t mean to bring it up to make you feel bad,” Nancy said, reaching out to squeeze your arm gently. “I just thought… maybe it helps to know why he’s being so difficult.”

You nodded slowly, your thoughts tangled. Steve’s hesitation made more sense now, but it didn’t make the ache in your chest any less sharp. You didn’t want to be the person who had to convince him you were worth the risk.

Nancy gave you a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re good for him. He needs someone who challenges him, keeps him grounded. You do that.”

You managed a faint smile in return. “Thanks, Nancy.”

As she turned back to the rack, your fingers brushed over the other dresses. A comfortable silence filled the space between you two. 

Nancy held up a sleek black gown against herself, giving it a critical once-over in the mirror. “Too simple?” she asked, tilting her head.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You could wear a garbage bag, and it would still look elegant. But no, that one’s perfect.”

Nancy smiled, setting the dress aside. “Thanks. I’m so sad that you’re going back to Chicago in a few days.”

You smiled, nodding in agreement. “Who are you going to see in Indianapolis tomorrow?” 

Nancy was looking at another similar dress she had picked up but in red. She glanced at you. “My brother, Mike and his fiancée, Jane. He’s going through law school now so he doesn’t come around a lot. He’s like a freaky genius when he applies himself.” 

“How did they meet?” You asked curiously. 

Nancy seemed to ignore your gaze purposefully, her jaw tightening. “It’s kind of a long story. But Jonathan’s step-dad and mom adopted Jane. I don’t know. They both weirdly understand one another like no one else.” 

“And you and Jonathan?” you asked, picking through the rack beside her, “how did you two become a thing?”

Nancy’s smile softened as she leaned against the edge of the display rack, her eyes distant like she was replaying a memory. “I kind of got with him right after me and Steve broke up,” she admitted. “Then he and his family moved off to California to get away from Hawkins for a bit and I think it put a strain on our relationship. We broke up when I left for college. It was mutual at first, but… I think I was scared, you know? Scared to be tied down, scared to figure out who I was without him.”

You nodded, leaning against the rack with her. “Makes sense. So, what changed?”

She let out a quiet laugh, blushing. “One day, I was in my dorm, and there was this knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I thought it was my roommate’s friend or something. But when I opened the door… there he was. Jonathan.”

Your eyes widened. “He just showed up?”

Nancy nodded, her voice softening. “Yeah. We hadn’t seen each other in months, and I could tell he’d been working himself up to it. He looked… I don’t know, lost, I guess. And then he just started talking. Saying how much he missed me, how stupid it was that we broke up. He told me he wanted to be in my life forever, even if it scared him, even if it wasn’t easy.”

Your chest tightened at her words, the rawness of the moment she described stirring something deep inside you.

“What did you do?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“I cried,” Nancy admitted, laughing softly. “And then I told him I missed him too. I’d been trying to convince myself I was fine without him, but the truth was, I wasn’t. I didn’t want to be.”

You smiled, imagining the scene. “That’s… kind of perfect, actually.”

Nancy shrugged, her eyes glinting with warmth. “It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And I think that’s why it worked. We had to figure out how to be together again, but we both wanted it enough to make it happen.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if that kind of honesty was possible for you and Steve. If either of you could step out of your own fears long enough to admit what you wanted.

Nancy reached for another dress, her voice lighter now. “Anyway, that’s my grand love story. What about this one?” She handed you a dress. 

The dress seemed to jump out at you the moment your fingers brushed over the silky black fabric. Its simplicity was striking: the body was sleek and fitted, the hem pooling slightly like liquid midnight, and at the top, a crisp white bow perched elegantly just above the sweetheart neckline. It was classic, timeless, yet somehow playful—the kind of dress you couldn’t help but imagine twirling in.

You held it up to yourself in the mirror. Nancy caught the movement and glanced over, her eyes widening. “Oh, wow. You have to try it on.”

“It’s a little… dramatic, don’t you think?” you said, though the dress had already captured your heart.

Nancy shook her head emphatically. “Nope. It’s perfect. Go.” She gestured toward the fitting rooms, grinning.

You hesitated for only a second before nodding and heading for the fitting room. Once inside, you slipped into the dress, the fabric cool and smooth against your skin. It fit like a dream, hugging your curves in all the right places while the bow added a whimsical touch that somehow didn’t feel out of place. You turned in the mirror, the long line of the dress elongating your frame and making you feel… well, like you’d stepped out of a classic movie.

When you stepped out of the fitting room, Nancy promptly choked.“Oh my god,” she managed after a moment, fanning herself dramatically. “No wonder Steve can’t stop staring at you.”

Your cheeks flushed instantly. “What? He doesn’t stare.” You knew he stared but you didn’t think he did when you weren’t looking. 

Nancy raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, please. He always looks like he’s completely captivated. And honestly? I get it. You look amazing.”

You turned back to the mirror, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. The dress really was something special, and hearing Nancy’s words only made you feel that much more self-conscious.

Nancy stepped up beside you, leaning against the mirror. “So,” she said casually, “when did it happen?”

“When did what happen?” you asked, still studying your reflection.

“You know. When did you start liking him?” Nancy’s tone was light, but there was a curiosity in her eyes that made you pause.

You blinked, opening your mouth to answer but finding that no words came. “I… don’t know,” you admitted finally. “I don’t think there was a specific moment. It just… happened, I guess.”

Nancy smiled knowingly,

“Is that bad?” you asked, heat rushing to your face. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, guilt tugging at your chest. Steve had been so open—admitting that he knew exactly when he started liking you, no hesitation. But you? You didn’t have a clue.

Nancy’s smile softened, her head tilting slightly as she watched you. “Of course not,” she said gently. “It’s not like there’s a rulebook for this kind of thing. Sometimes it’s not about one big moment. Sometimes it’s… gradual. Sneaky, even.”

You turned back to her, still fiddling with the hem of the dress. “But he remembered. He told me he started liking me the day I walked into his office.”

Nancy leaned against the mirror, arms crossed, her gaze steady. “Steve’s always been the type to overthink things like that. I mean, don’t get me wrong—when he falls, he falls hard. But not knowing exactly when doesn’t mean your feelings are any less real.”

You let her words sink in, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It was true—you’d never had a lightbulb moment, never felt like you’d been hit by a proverbial truck. It had just… crept up on you. Somewhere between the banter, the stolen glances, and the way his voice softened when he spoke your name.

“It just feels unfair,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Nancy. “He’s so sure. And I—”

Nancy placed a hand on your arm, cutting you off gently. “Hey, stop beating yourself up. If anything, it makes sense. You were probably too busy pretending you didn’t like him to notice when you actually started to.”

You laughed softly despite yourself, the tension easing just a little. “Maybe you’re right,” you admitted, glancing back at the mirror.

“Of course I’m right,” Nancy said, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Now, are we buying that dress or what? Because if Steve sees you in it, I’m pretty sure he’s going to lose his mind.”

The warmth in your chest swelled as you smoothed your hands over the fabric, the thought of Steve’s reaction sending a flutter through your stomach. Maybe Nancy was right. Maybe it didn’t matter when it started. What mattered was what you felt now.

And in this moment, wearing this dress, you couldn’t deny just how much you wanted him to see you in it. Or how much you wanted him to tear it off of you. Both would be okay. 

You handed Steve’s credit card to the cashier, the shiny black rectangle almost mocking you as you slid it across the counter. Nancy leaned against the register, arms crossed, giving you a pointed look. You weren’t sure if it was judgment or amusement—or maybe, worst of all, both.

“What?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Nancy’s lips twitched like she was fighting a smirk. “Nothing. Just wondering if this is the part where you tell me Steve offered to buy out the whole store.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not my fault he insisted,” you muttered, even as heat crept up your neck.

The cashier returned the card with a polite smile, and you tucked it back into your wallet, exhaling softly. Nancy was still watching you with that knowing look, and you were just about to ask her to quit it when she straightened up.

“You want to get ready at my place?” she asked, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Robin’s coming over. She usually hates going to these things, but I tempted her with wine.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “At least she knows what she wants.”

“She made me promise it’d be red,” Nancy added with a grin. “Apparently, it’s ‘fancy people’ wine. She’s so dramatic. You should have seen her and Steve when they worked at the video store together. Drama Queen central.”

“That checks out,” you said, grabbing the bag with your dress inside. Your mind started to wander at the thought of what Steve was like when he was younger. Was he always the playful type? “Sure, I’ll come over. Steve said to meet him at the gala.” 

Nancy’s grin widened as she looped her arm through yours, steering you toward the exit. 

You smiled, but your thoughts drifted as you walked. The dress hung heavier in the bag than it should have. You wondered how Steve would react when he saw you in it. If he’d be smug, surprised, or something softer, something just for you.

Nancy nudged you gently. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just wondering if Robin’s ‘fancy’ wine is going to be boxed,” you deflected, earning a laugh from her.

But deep down, you couldn’t shake the anticipation drumming beneath your skin. 

***

“Holy shit. You are hot.” Robin proclaimed. She had settled on a green pantsuit with a black jacket. Her hair was braided. She looked pretty, you thought. 

You rolled your eyes. “Someone please take away the wine.” 

Robin laughed. “Oh babe, this is not the wine speaking. This is the truth. No wonder why Steve is so obsessed with you!” 

“That’s what I said!” Nancy shrieked. She was putting on earrings that dangled like gold icicles. 

You tucked your chin into your chest, smiling bashfully. “This feels so weird,” you admitted. They wouldn’t know the weight behind the words. How just a few days ago you two were arguing over a tagline for a client and suddenly you were his not-so-fake girlfriend? Even if it wasn’t official, so many lines were crossed. You could never go back to being just his intern. 

Robin scoffed. “What’s weird with wearing his credit card in dress form? Do you know how cheap that man is?”  

Yes, you thought. He once made you call a restaurant for a refund because they forgot one side on a $200 order for the office. “That’s not what I meant,” you smiled weakly. “It’s complicated.” You almost winced at the word, feeling guilty that you had gotten aggravated Steve had used it last night. But now, you realized, he was right. 

How were you to explain to anyone about any of this? You felt ashamed you were lying to Nancy and Robin. They seemed nice. And they seemed like they cared so much about Steve. A week ago you didn’t even know he had human relationships with other beings. 

“The best kind of romances are,” Robin said with a cheesy smile. 

Nancy rolled her eyes, taking the glass of wine from her friend. “Bad advice, Rob.” She looked at you as you finished putting on your shoes. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Tell him whatever you’re thinking.” 

You let out a long exhale and half-hearted smile. Your chest was tight again as the lie bubbled inside you. You were afraid of one wrong move and it would finally burst. 

***

City Hall loomed in the distance, its architecture a stately blend of old-world charm and timeless grandeur. Hawkins had always surprised you that way—unassuming on the surface but filled with treasures if you knew where to look. 

Even as someone who had spent time in places like Chicago, there was something about Hawkins that felt irreplaceable. It was a hidden gem, the kind of place that didn’t need towering skyscrapers or sprawling cityscapes to feel special.

As you stepped inside, the soft hum of conversation mixed with the clinking of champagne glasses, creating an air of understated elegance. The polished marble floors gleamed beneath the glow of strategically placed chandeliers, their light refracting off crystal accents to cast delicate patterns across the room.

The decor was simple yet refined. Crisp white linens draped over long banquet tables lined the walls, each adorned with arrangements of ivory roses and greenery. Golden candelabras stood at intervals, their flickering flames casting a warm, inviting glow that complemented the muted tones of the space.

Even the waitstaff added to the air of effortless sophistication, weaving through the room with trays of champagne flutes and bite-sized appetizers. It was hard not to marvel at how Hawkins managed to pull this off—classy, yet entirely its own. No big city could replicate this.

The soft hum of chatter filled the air as you navigated the bustling room, weaving through clusters of people engaged in polite conversation. Your gaze swept the space until it landed on Steve. He stood near a corner of the room, laughing warmly with a group of older attendees, his shoulders relaxed, one hand tucked casually into his pocket.

There was something magnetic about the way he carried himself, equal parts approachable and self-assured. It was a side of him you didn’t often see in the office, where the weight of deadlines and clients sometimes dimmed his natural ease.

As if sensing your gaze, Steve looked up, his smile faltering for a brief moment before softening into something warmer—something just for you. His hazel eyes widened slightly as he took you in, his awe almost palpable as his gaze swept over your dress. He didn’t even try to hide it, his lips parting as if he’d been momentarily struck speechless. 

You made your way over to him, the murmurs around you fading into the background. “Hey,” you greeted softly, your voice cutting through the buzz of the room.

“Hey,” he said back, his tone uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes didn’t leave yours, lingering for a beat longer than necessary before finally breaking away. “You look…” He paused, his words seemingly caught in his throat before he let out a breathless chuckle. “Beautiful.”

A blush warmed your cheeks, but you played it off with a teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve grinned, his confidence returning as he straightened slightly. “Come on, let me show you around,” he said, gesturing toward the far side of the room. “They’ve got some pretty interesting stuff up for auction this year.”

You fell into step beside him as he led you through the crowd, pointing out various displays that ranged from antique vases to hand-painted holiday décor. His voice was light, easy, as he described each item with just enough enthusiasm to keep you engaged.

A mix of art pieces, jewelry, and vintage collectibles caught your eye, each labeled with elegant calligraphy on small white cards.

Steve pointed out a few items, explaining their significance or who had donated them. His voice was low, almost conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret just with you. Then your gaze landed on something that made you pause—a delicate charm bracelet displayed on a deep blue cushion.

The bracelet was silver, its charms shaped like intricate snowflakes, each one unique. The craftsmanship was stunning, and the way the light caught on the dainty designs made it look almost magical.

“This is beautiful,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Steve followed your gaze, his expression softening when he saw what had caught your eye. “It suits you,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “The snowflakes, I mean.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments, you know.”

He smirked, leaning slightly closer. “Maybe I just like giving them to you.”

You nudged your hip against his, his hand quickly sliding to your waist to keep you there. “Where were those compliments after meetings with clients?” 

He looked away, ashamed, and pointed back at the bracelet. “I mean it’s just like you, it looks delicate—”

Your eyebrows shot up, cutting him off. “Are you saying I’m fragile?” 

“What?” He snapped his head to look down at you, his grip tightening as if he was scared you’d step away. “No, that’s not what I was meaning—”

“I’d like to remind you. Who saved your ass last week when you froze during the Q&A in one of our client meetings?” You were trying, and failing at biting back a grin. This was just too fun to mess with him now that things were incredibly different between the two of you. 

Steve groaned, his free hand dragging down his face. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t freeze. I paused for dramatic effect.”

You let out a snort, unable to help yourself. “Sure, Mr. Harrington. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

Steve’s expression changed into the same expression he gave you last night while teasing you until you unravelled. His eyes clouded. “What I was trying to say,” he started, his voice low, “is that it looks delicate, but it’s not. Snowflakes are stronger than they seem.”

Your smirk faltered, replaced by something softer as his words sank in. “Oh,” you said quietly, your teasing edge dissolving.

Steve stepped closer, his hand brushing yours lightly as he tilted his head to meet your eyes. “Kind of like you,” he added, his voice just above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his gaze. For a moment, you forgot about the room around you, the hum of the gala fading into the background.

“Stop,” you said softly. 

“Stop what?” He gave you a cheeky smile. 

You bit your lip, leaning back to fully look at him. “Stop looking at me like you want to kiss me.” 

“Are you trying to threaten me if that’s exactly what I want to do?” His finger ghosted your chin, making you shiver. “Maybe I am,” you said. 

Steve’s grin widened, the corners of his mouth curling in that infuriatingly charming way he had perfected. “So, what happens now? You gonna report me to HR for inappropriate behavior?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that threatened to break free. “I don’t know, Steve. This might finally be the straw that gets you fired.”

“Fired?” He placed a dramatic hand on his chest, leaning closer. “Not if I tell HR that you’ve been staring at me all night like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

Your jaw dropped, and you smacked his arm, laughing despite yourself. “I was not!”

He chuckled, grabbing your hand before you could hit him again. “Sure you weren’t.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a moment of tenderness slipping through the teasing. 

You wanted to kiss him. Badly. To taste him again. But you restrained yourself. 

Before either of you could say more, a voice crackled over the microphone near the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, just a quick announcement—Santa will be arriving in thirty minutes to visit with the children!”

You turned toward the sound, spotting Steve’s mom holding the mic with an amused smile. She glanced your way and gave a little wave.

You gave Steve a slow once-over, tilting your chin in mock assessment. “See, you need to be careful. Santa will be here in thirty minutes. Should I tell him you’ve been naughty?”

Steve offered a weak smile as his mother winked at him while walking off the stage. You felt Steve stiffen beside you, his hand sliding from your waist as he stood straighter. That guilty look in his eye could only mean trouble.

“What?” you asked, your suspicion immediate.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his grin turning sheepish. “About that... I am Santa.”

You stared at him, your mouth falling open. “You? Santa? You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, biting back a laugh. “I wish I was. Every year. It’s like a family tradition or something, and my mom roped me into it again.”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it. “Oh, this is too good. Steve Harrington in a Santa suit? Do the kids know they’re about to meet the hottest Santa ever?”

Steve’s apprehension immediately evaporated, smirking, leaning in closer. “You think I’m the hottest Santa ever?”

“Don’t push it,” you retorted, poking his chest. “And please tell me you at least practiced your ‘Ho, ho, ho.’”

His lips twitched. “Do you want a preview?”

“God, no,” you said, laughing as you tried to step back. “Spare me.”

He caught your hand, pulling you back toward him. “Come on. You’re helping me get ready.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What, like an elf? Absolutely not.”

Steve’s grin turned devious. “No elf ears required, promise. But I could use someone to make sure my beard’s straight. Plus, moral support.”

You sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. But if you expect me to call you ‘Santa,’ you’re dreaming.”

“Noted,” he said with a laugh, tugging you gently toward a side door. As you followed, he shot you a sly glance over his shoulder. “But, for the record, you’d make a sexy Mrs. Claus.”

You groaned, shoving his shoulder lightly.

Steve led you through the hall and up a flight of stairs, his hand lingering lightly at the small of your back. The faint buzz of the gala faded behind you, replaced by the quiet creak of an old door as he pushed it open.

The room was simple, functional—a large mirror dominated one wall, and a rack of costumes stood in the corner, the crimson Santa suit hanging front and center like the star of the show.

You raised an eyebrow as you stepped inside, gesturing to the suit. “Well, you weren’t kidding. This is... something.”

It was an impressive getup: rich crimson velvet, trimmed with plush white fur. A thick black belt with a golden buckle hung from a hook nearby, along with the iconic hat and boots.

Steve crossed the room and picked up the jacket, holding it out in front of him. “It’s a lot, right?”

You smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s missing a little something. Maybe a rhinestone belt? Or some sequins? Really make it pop.”

He groaned, tossing the jacket over the back of a chair. “You’re already making this worse.”

“Worse?” you teased, stepping closer. “I’m here to make sure Santa is in top shape for the big debut.”

You stepped closer, grabbing the jacket off the chair. “Alright, Mr. Claus. Arms up.”

Steve turned to face you, his eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re enjoying this way too much” He raised his arms obediently, his expression one of mock annoyance as you slid the jacket onto him. The fabric hugged his shoulders in a way that had no business being as flattering as it was. 

“You know,” you said, your tone teasing but your pulse quickening, “this really works on you. Hot Santa could be your next career move.”

Steve’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “Is that a compliment or just your not-so-subtle way of saying I’m irresistible?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you shot back, but your voice wavered slightly as he leaned in, his hazel eyes darkening with mischief.

“Too late,” he murmured, his hand catching yours as you reached for the belt. “You keep touching me like that, and we might have to cancel Santa’s appearance altogether.”

Your breath caught, your eyes flicking to his lips. “Steve…”

“What?” he said, his voice low, teasing. “You’re the one getting me all flustered.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him as the plush fabric of the Santa jacket pressed between you.

The heat of his kiss sent a shiver down your spine, and you let yourself melt into him for a moment, your fingers curling into his lapels. But when he nipped at your bottom lip, a soft sound escaped your throat, and you broke away, breathless.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, your forehead resting against his.

“And you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice husky as his thumb brushed along your hip. “Dangerously distracting, actually.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a grin. “You know, you’re not very convincing as a wholesome Santa figure right now.”

Steve chuckled, his lips ghosting along your jaw as his hands slid up your sides. “I’m off duty for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time to be a little… less wholesome.”

Your heart raced as his mouth found the spot just below your ear, making your knees wobble. “Steve…”

“Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he murmured against your skin.

You wanted to say something, to tease him or push him away, but instead, your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging lightly. He groaned, his hands tightening on your waist as he kissed you again, harder this time.

He kissed your chin, then your jaw, and then his mouth found your neck. His teeth grazed the soft skin. You should push him away but only soft whimpers came out of your mouth. His hands had made their way to their rightful spot on your bottom, squeezing gently. 

He was the one who finally broke away, but something from his expression told you everything you needed to know. He didn’t want to. He licked his lips, smiling shyly, looking away as if he was trying to recollect himself. 

It was cute when he did that. At the moment, he could be so arrogant and confident but then at other moments he looked like a school boy who had no clue how to talk to girls. You kissed his cheek before grabbing the rest of the suit to help him get in. 

He turned toward the rack, grabbing the belt and hat. “Alright, how do I look now?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “You’re missing the beard.”

Steve groaned, reaching for the dreaded white fluff. “This thing is the worst.”

“Let me help,” you said, taking it from him and stepping closer again.

As you adjusted the elastic band, your fingers lingered near his jaw, and you couldn’t resist brushing your thumb lightly over his stubble. He caught your wrist, his gaze searching yours.

“You’re really testing me,” he said, his voice low.

“Good thing you’re Santa,” you teased. “Patience is kind of your thing.”

He smirked, leaning in to steal one more kiss. “Patience, huh? You sure about that?”

Before you could respond, he crossed the room in two quick steps, grabbed your hand, and tugged you toward the oversized chair by the mirror. “C’mon,” he said with a mischievous grin, plopping himself down and patting his lap. “I need help getting into character.”

You blinked, incredulous. “You want me to sit on your lap?”

“Only way this works,” he teased, shrugging nonchalantly. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, his fingers drumming idly, but the playful spark in his eyes was anything but casual.

“Steve Harrington–”

“Santa Claus.” He quickly corrected you.

You scoffed. “Mr. Claus.” You crossed your arms. “This feels like a trap.”

“Trap?” He gasped, feigning offense. “It’s tradition. Totally professional. Pure holiday spirit. Come on, sit down.”

Rolling your eyes, you relented, lowering yourself onto his lap carefully, your hands resting on his shoulders for balance. His hands settled on your waist, firm but easy, and his grin widened like he’d just won something. 

“Alright, fine,” you said. “What now?”

“Now you tell me what you want,” he said, leaning back slightly. “And be honest. I’m very generous this time of year.”

You tapped your chin, playing along. “Okay. I want a boss who isn’t a complete pain in the ass.”

Steve snorted, his grip tightening playfully on your waist. “Wow, that’s festive. Anything else? World peace, maybe?”

“Oh, and a boss who doesn’t hog the office coffee pot,” you added, smirking. “You’re a serial offender, Mr. Harrington.”

“Who is this Mr. Harrington?” He asked. 

You slightly nudged him, letting out an exasperated sigh. “He’s a freak who has a thing for skirts.” 

Steve’s laugh was deep and playful as he tilted his head, the Santa hat askew in a way that only made him look more annoyingly handsome. “A thing for skirts, huh? Sounds like something Steve Harrington might do. But me? I’m just Santa Claus.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched at his ridiculous attempt to stay in character. “Oh, so Santa has no clue about Steve Harrington’s behavior? None at all?”

“Not a one,” he said, shaking his head solemnly. “But he sounds like trouble. I mean, hogging the coffee pot? Borderline criminal.”

You snorted, playing along. “And don’t forget the staring. The guy’s a menace. Should be on some kind of watchlist.”

Steve gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as if deeply offended. “I have to say, I’m disappointed in him. What kind of boss gets distracted in meetings?”

“Oh, the kind who claims to be ‘observational’ when he’s very clearly not,” you shot back, leaning slightly closer.

Steve’s smirk deepened, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your waist. “Maybe I’ll have to add him to the naughty list. What do you think?”

“I think he’s been on it for years,” you teased, your fingers toying with the fur trim of his jacket.

“Well, that settles it,” he said, his tone mock-serious. “Steve Harrington’s officially on my naughty list. Now, what about you?”

Your eyes narrowed playfully. “What about me?”

“Any confessions to make while you’re sitting on Santa’s lap?” His grin widened, mischief dancing in his hazel eyes.

You huffed, pretending to think. “Well, I guess I did let my boss think I didn’t notice him blushing every time I caught him looking at me.”

Steve froze for half a second, and then he laughed, low and warm. “Caught me, huh? Santa’s gonna need some elaboration there.”

“Nice try,” you said, poking his chest. “You’re supposed to know everything. Isn’t that the whole deal with Santa?”

Steve shrugged, his smirk impossible to resist. “Maybe Santa just likes hearing you admit it.”

You were about to fire back when he leaned closer, his nose brushing yours. “So,” he said softly, his tone dropping into something more genuine, “what do you really want for Christmas?”

The teasing edge in his tone softened just enough to make your heart skip. You looked at him, your smile faltering slightly. “I don’t know,” you said, trying to deflect. “What about you? What does Santa want for Christmas?”

His smirk faded into something quieter, his hazel eyes searching yours. “That’s easy,” he said. “I want to take you on a real date when we’re back in Chicago.”

You blinked. “Santa or Steve?” 

He titled his head. “What do you think?”

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. “A real date?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone earnest. “No fake dates for my mom or friends. Just us. Dinner, maybe a movie. Something normal.”

You hesitated, your fingers unconsciously curling into the fabric of his jacket. “Steve…”

“What?” he said, his voice gentler now. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

You glanced away, your thoughts swirling. “I don’t know if I can be normal about this,” you admitted quietly. “I mean, everything about us started as… well, not normal. You were right when I asked about it last night. It’s all… complicated.”

“Exactly,” he said, his hand shifting to cup your chin and turn your face back toward him. “So let’s change that. Let’s make it normal. You and me, no pretense, no pretending. Just something real. I should have reacted differently last night. But I was scared. I had to think about it from two perspectives. Professionally and personally. Professionally, I respect you and what you offer to the company. I didn’t want others to think you’re there for me to ‘stare at’ because you are much more than a pretty face. But personally, you drive me so insane in the best way possible.”

His words made your chest ache in the best way, and you felt a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You sound awfully sure about this,” you teased, though your voice was softer now.

“I am,” he said without hesitation. “Look, I know I’ve been… not great at talking about this stuff. But I’m sure about you. About wanting this.”

You studied his face, the earnestness in his expression making your heart squeeze. “Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay?” he echoed, his smile spreading slowly.

“Okay,” you giggled.

His grin softened, turning into something warmer as he tilted his head, studying you. “So, we’re both hopeless, then?”

“Seems like it,” you murmured, the tension in the room thickening as his gaze flickered to your lips.

“Good thing I’m Santa,” he said after a beat, his voice low, teasing again but tinged with something deeper. “Pretty sure I’ve got some magic for situations like this.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably as your heart hammered against your ribs.

“Yeah,” he replied, his hands sliding up to cradle your hips as he leaned forward, his nose brushing yours. “For starters, I’d say this moment could use another kiss.”

“Steve–” you began, but your protest was swallowed by the warmth of his lips pressing against yours.

The kiss was slower this time, deliberate, like he was trying to pour all the unspoken things into it. The fake beard tickled your face as your lips pushed and pulled. Your fingers curled into the soft fur trim of his jacket, holding him close as his hands moved up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your jaw. 

When you pulled apart you both laughed. This was all utterly ridiculous. But it all felt right. You wiped his swallowed lips, realizing you had left obvious kiss marks all over his face. 

Steve’s hand caught your wrist. “You know, Santa would like to tell you that your dress might be the reason you end up on his naughty list.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

His grin turned wicked, his fingers brushing against your skin. “If you keep looking at me like that, it might not be the last, either.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. You pulled at his beard, the elastic stretching before letting it go. “Are you done flirting, Santa? You’ve got kids waiting downstairs.”

Steve yelped, rubbing his cheek. Regardless, he kissed your temple. 

The both of you stood up from the chair. He dramatically puffed out his chest and held his belt, giving you a small wink as he left the room. 

***

The cheerful hum of the holiday festivities filled the room, children’s laughter blending with the soft notes of carols drifting through the air. Across the room, Steve sat on a grand chair, dressed in his Santa suit and surrounded by kids eagerly waiting to share their Christmas wishes. His laugh was warm and easy, his gestures animated as he played his part perfectly.

You stood near the refreshment table with his mom, watching him work the crowd with that effortless charm. He really did look good, even in the ridiculous costume, and something about seeing him like this made your chest ache.

“He’s got his father’s smile,” his mom said suddenly, her voice tinged with something bittersweet.

You turned to her, surprised by the comment. She was holding a glass of champagne, her gaze fixed on Steve with a softness that only a mother could have.

“Really?” you asked, tilting your head. You tried to remember the photo on the desk. 

She nodded, her lips curving into a small, nostalgic smile. “Oh, yes. You know, his father used to play Santa every year. He was so good with the kids. Steve... he reminds me of him more and more these days.”

Your gaze shifted back to Steve, who was helping a little girl onto his lap, her face lighting up with pure joy as he spoke to her. It was easy to imagine him as the kind of dad who’d go all out for his own kids someday. You would think it’s because as a kid his own dad didn’t really give it to him. But no, you were starting to understand that Steve was just that type of guy. 

You didn’t want to break the illusion his mother had of Steve’s dad. You were sure she noticed his absence from what Steve had told you. Regardless, that was still her husband. “I guess it runs in the family,” you said softly, trying to match her wistful tone.

His mom chuckled lightly, but then her smile faltered, and she hesitated before speaking again. “It’s been good to see him like this. Enjoying himself, even if it’s just for tonight. He’s been... preoccupied lately.”

Your stomach tightened at her words, but you kept your expression neutral. “Preoccupied?”

She sipped her champagne, her eyes flicking to yours briefly before returning to Steve. “Yes, with the business. He’s been thinking about selling it—or quitting altogether. He hasn’t made any decisions yet, but it’s been weighing on him for a while. To be honest, I thought he would’ve done it sooner but something has been holding him back.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mind raced, scrambling to piece together what she’d just said. Steve? Selling the business? Quitting? Why hadn’t he mentioned it to you? You worked so closely together—how could he keep something this big from you? Why hadn’t he told his employees? 

But you couldn’t let his mom see your reaction, so you forced a smile, nodding as if you already knew. “Yeah, he... he mentioned it briefly,” you lied, your voice sounding steadier than you felt.

She didn’t seem to notice the strain in your tone. “It makes sense, though,” she continued. “He’s always been so hardworking, but he’s not the kind of person who thrives under all that pressure. I think part of him just wants to figure out what makes him happy. He never went to college and he’s almost thirty.” She laughed, hiccuping. “Oh I think I’ve had too much eggnog. You already know all of this. I’m sure you’ll help him figure it all out”

What makes him happy. The words echoed in your mind, twisting something deep in your chest. Was this why he’d been acting so cagey about your relationship? Was this part of the reason he avoided talking about what came next for the two of you?

You glanced back at Steve, watching as he listened attentively to a little boy holding a stuffed reindeer. His laugh boomed through the room as he patted the kid’s shoulder, and the boy beamed up at him. He looked so at ease, so completely in his element, but now all you could see was the weight he must have been carrying behind the scenes.

And you hadn’t noticed.

Your fingers tightened around your glass, and you swallowed against the lump forming in your throat. How could you confront him about this without sounding accusatory? Or selfish? Maybe it wasn’t your place to question his choices—but wasn’t it your place to know?

“Are you alright, dear?” his mom asked, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts.

You plastered on a reassuring smile, nodding quickly. “Of course. Just a lot to think about, I guess.”

She patted your arm, her expression kind. “Steve’s lucky to have you.”

You nodded again, though her words only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

For the rest of the evening, your smiles were just a little harder to maintain, and every time you caught Steve’s eye, a million unspoken questions buzzed in your mind.

[admirationandromantics]

Hyper-dependent

Okay, this was a request, and I feel like I'm slowly getting my flow back. Sorry to say, but I have deleted some of the requests because I just didn't feel motivated to do them. This doesn't mean that I'll stop! I appreciate every one I get, and I hope to receive more as time goes on.

This one is quite angsty, and deals with Josh's trauma after the mountain. Yes, you are basically emotional support. You're dating, he feel bad (of course) and nightmares regularly haunt him. There's also smut because of the request (and some people cope that way I guess). Anyways, enjoy <3

The events of the cabin were long over, and luckily, everyone survived. I don’t know how, and I didn’t think we would, but somehow, it happened. Josh was stuck down in the mines for a while. Days… I wasn’t allowed to search for him with the professionals, but I was the first one who got to see him at the hospital. His parents arrived shortly after as well, and they were glad that he was okay. He moved home for a couple of weeks, but came back in with me when the health professionals told him it was possible. I couldn’t wait. They told me it would be a lot of work, and sometimes, he has really bad days. I understood their concern, but I wanted him, I wanted him back. And maybe getting back to the usual routine would do him good? 

They were right. The days that were bad were horrible. Hours upon hours of crying and screaming. He exhausted himself at the end, finally falling into my arms and falling asleep. I knew he still mourned his sisters, but the monsters upon that mountain made him terrified. Sometimes he hid a knife under the bed, paranoid that they’d come for him. I still did my best to help him, even though I struggled myself. These events affected all of us after all. That’s what made it worse, I couldn’t even talk to them about it. They struggled as well, and many just wanted to put the events behind them. 

***

“I fucked up” Josh whispers beside me. It’s the middle of the night, and due to his violent sleep, I haven’t been able to relax. 

“It’s okay” I put my hand on his cheek, caressing carefully and grounding him. The most important thing is that he stays grounded, that he doesn’t do worse in a panicky state. 

“What if they come for me? What if they come for you?” 

“They won’t, I promise” 

He looks up at me, worried and concerned. He doesn’t seem that bad now. More like in a processing phase. He just needs some reassurance. 

“Are you sure” 

I smile, grabbing the hem of my t-shirt. Well, Josh’s shirt, but it was the perfect sleeping wear. If he needed reassurance, then he would get it. After all, I was not supporting the whole ‘being prepared for death’-thing he had going. I could sleep in a vulnerable position, confident that nothing would happen while I did. I mean, it makes sense in my head. 

“I’m so sure that I’ll sleep naked. Know why?” 

“Because they’re not coming tonight?” 

“Exactly” 

I fully take off the top, before leaning down on his chest and pulling the covers over us. His heart is beating rapidly, and I rub soft circles over his bicep, trying to calm him. 

“You got hurt” 

“But I’m fine now” 

“I hurt you, I can never forgive myself for that” his voice breaks, silence following. We’ve been through this thing many times, but I understand why he isn’t letting it go. If I hurt him like that, the guilt would probably kill me. 

“You couldn’t have known what was on that mountain” 

“But I hurt you, I planned to hurt you”

“And I forgive you”

I lean upwards, giving him a small kiss. We could have this conversation a million times, and a million times I would say the same thing. I love him, and I forgive him. 

He turns, laying over me and capturing my lips again. This time it’s deeper, more passionate and rough. I break it off. 

“Josh, I don’t think we should do this in your state” 

“Please, just let me feel you” 

I oblige, pulling him down on me again. I caress his back, feeling the tensed up muscles under my fingertips. He needs to relax, to take a breath. His hand grabs my upper hips, groping harshly. The pain makes me wince, and he uses the opportunity to put his tongue in my mouth, exploring my insides. I already feel myself getting wet. We’ve been having sex, on his good days at least, and there weren’t many of them nowadays. 

He grabs hold of my thigh, pulling my leg up as he grinds against me. He’s incredibly hard, and I wonder why. We just talked about the mountain, about me being hurt, about me being in pain… 

Our breaths line up, both of our pulses skyrocketing. He kisses down my chest, stomach and my inner thighs. He leaves rough bites, red marks which will probably last for days. Before the incident, we’d always been rough and hard when being intimate with each other, but after, he’d been much more careful, treating me like I was made of porcelain, afraid that a small nail mark would hurt me. Now, he goes against everything we’d been doing for the last months, and I love it. 

I look down, only to be met with his piercing gaze as he slowly drags my underwear off, throwing it on the floor. He holds the intense eye contact while lowering himself, his tongue coming in contact with my folds. I let out a breath, whining from his small touches. He’s barely touching me, knowing that the teasing will get me even wetter. 

“Josh…” 

He doesn’t answer, instead putting more pressure on me, resulting in more pleasurable sounds escaping my lips. I feel my core building up, body getting warmer, and nipples getting harder. I’m right on the edge, begging to be let free when he stops. I whine from the sudden lack of contact. 

He drags off his boxers, revealing himself. He doesn’t give me time to take him in, instead leaning over me, hands roaming my body. I’m wondering if he’s falling apart, if he wants to stop. I sit up, hand going to his face. Before I’m able to reach him, both of my ankles are gripped, tugging me down, leading to my back slamming down on the mattress again. I yelp, unsure about his next step. 

But he doesn’t waste time. His dick is running up and down my folds, begging to be let inside. He slams into me, everything at once. I give out a loud moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure surrounding me as he starts moving. He goes almost all out before slamming in again, making low grunt sounds as he breathes. The rhythmic pattern of his movements are mirrored by the sounds coming out of me. Endless tunes of moans and whimpers filling the dark bedroom. 

My heat starts building up again, taking me to the edge. I grip the sheets as I try to hold on a little more, wanting to come together. My body bounces back and forth on the mattress, my hand going over my head to stop it from slamming into the bedframe. He massages my thighs roughly, causing me to fall over. I come all over his cock whilst feeling high on ecstasy. My legs automatically squeeze around his torso, and it doesn’t take long for him to come after. He fills me up, slowly going out before falling on top of me. 

His face is wet, tears flowing as he nuzzles into the crook of my neck. He tries to mask the whimpers and hulks coming out, but ultimately fails. I put my arms around him, one going into his hair. I stroke up and down his back, hoping to calm him. 

“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to calm myself after my high. 

“Please just let me feel you a bit more” he manages to say, arms going around my waist, hugging and holding me down. I kiss his forehead, fingers still combing through his hair. 

“I’m here Josh. I’ll always be here”

[vrystalius]

How would Sanemi react if his pregnant wife was in a bad mood because her feet were sore and swollen and she was feeling nauseous?

Bad mood

Sanemi’s reaction to your bad mood due to bad pregnancy symptoms

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

(Mentioning of vomiting)

Sanemi’s not very good with emotions, so if he notices how you start getting in a bad mood due to your nausea and swollen feet, he’ll be a little awkward at first. He’ll probably even get into a bad mood himself seeing you all pissy and pouty, but also because he would feel a little helpless at first and have no idea on how to even help you out.

“Tch, why didn’t you tell me, hm?”

Sameni would sweep you off your feet and carry you into the bathroom, equipping you with a bowl to puke into, and a farm foot bath for your poor swollen feet. Sanemi would then massage your feet and try to get the swelling away with a scowl on his face, still in a foul mood. But after around half an hour of gently massaging your feet, he’d calm down. He’d scold you quietly, telling you to tell him next time you feel bad. He’s the dad of your baby and your loving husband, he has to take care of you, damnit!

After drying your feet off, Sanemi carried you back to bed and make sure to force you into bedrest. He placed your puking-bowl next to your head, made some small, healthy snacks and put them on your bedside table in case you get hungry. Sanemi also made some tea for you that soothes your stomach and fights your nausea.

But despite his frowning and grimacing, he loves taking care of you. Sanemi’ll do massages, cooking and putting up with your puking day and night, if only he gets a simple “I love you” or a kiss as a payment.

“You’re lucky I love ya.”

💠

Sanemi is such a dilf, I love him. Imagine him with a stubble and being all grumpy in the mornings while the kids are already hyper and asking him to go play with them… *sigh*, dilf Nemi…

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[tea-plantz]

Haiiiii! I recently read your anxiety head cannons and I’m like in loveee with your writing. If you don’t mind, could you do the same concept of the head cannons but with Ennui?

Thank you 💗💗

Aaa oh my god, thank you so much! That really made my day😭

I love Ennui, she’s so gorgeous oml, and she deserves some hcs as well! I’ve seen close to nothing about her, she does not get enough love >:(

~Ennui x Love emotion reader~

When you first appeared in the HQ as the new emotion representing love, Ennui honestly wouldn’t care. You were just another emotion, nothing special, she might even find you a little annoying. Something about the way you always seemed so hyper and talkative kind of pissed her off. You were just always so…. out there.

“You care too much about things”

However, as time went by, and Ennui got more used to your presence, she would tolerate you more and more. You were an extrovert (unlike her), and talked a lot to everyone, including her, causing her to slowly start getting to know you more. She even started to find your company…. quite nice. You would lay on the couch beside her as she scrolled on her phone, maybe even playing with her hair a little, or snuggling up to her. And even though she did find your flirtations to be a bit irritating, a small blush could still be seen on her cheeks.

Once the purple emotion came to the realization that she liked you, after some time of knowing you, she wouldn’t know what to do. She had never been in this situation before, and especially not with someone as vibrant and romantic as you. Ennui wouldn’t wanna admit to crushing on you, she would keep it to herself and try to act casually, although you did notice that she was avoiding eye contact a little more than usual.

The way you found out that she liked you was probably accidental. She might have fallen asleep on the couch whilst playing on her phone, and mumbled something in her sleep.

“Mmh… they are so flirty and annoying… but they’re so cute… ugh, why do I want them so bad?”

Then she went back to mumbling stuff in French. You, Anxiety, Envy and all the other emotions at the console just stood there, mouths wide open like a fish, and eyes as round as plates. When Ennui woke up a little later you took her somewhere private to talk about it, and boy was she embarrassed. It’s super rare to see Ennui look anything other than bored, but when you told her what she had said in her sleep, she looked totally frozen in place and flustered as hell. She had basically just told you that she likes you in front of the whole headquarters… yikes. Luckily, the feelings where returned<3

When you two finally started dating it would be like a super hyper and chill girlfriend duo. You would always be gushing about romance and love, talking a bunch and all that, while she would listen and nod along.

She takes sneak photos of you and keep them in a special album on her phone, I’m sorry-

Ennui would secretly really enjoy it when you got touchy with her, she might roll her eyes, or groan, but she actually loves it. Whenever you cuddle up with her, give her kisses or play with her hair, she feels all warm inside, and a small smile can be seen on her face. I also think she would find it sweet if you braided her hair, it’s not like she has the energy to do it herself anyway, it’s waaaay too much work. That girl doesn’t even pull her socks all the way up, like c’mon-

You guys play games on her phone, I hc that she is kinda obsessed with candy crush.

I feel like the only things she truly shows interest in openly is her phone, and you.

Ennui often tells you that you’re overly sweet, and kinda tease you about it. Like, not in a mean way, she just points out how romantic and all you are, and comperes you to a cupcake or something.

“Mon Dieu, you’re always so sweet, it’s sickening. You’re like a little walking cupcake, all giggly and cute”

Sometimes she kind of feels bad for how little effort she puts into anything, especially with you being so charming and romantic, so she would try her best to put in a little extra work. She’ll probably call you some pet-names in French, like mon amour, or mon chéri. That, and she’ll make sure to give you some hugs whenever she can, like she’ll wrap her arms around your waist from behind whenever you’re both standing by the console.

She loooves to lean on you!

Ennui isn’t usually phased by your flirting, she finds it cute and kinda cheesy. She might roll her eyes or smile a little, but sometimes, when you say something that really gets to her, she’ll stiffen up, her eyes go wide and she gets a dark blush across her face. I don’t think Ennui’s usually that blushy, but if you’re lucky, and use the right words, you get to see it from time to time. <33

She looks so Lilly with her eyes wide open, it feels cursed and cute at the same time

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard - Part 5

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 9684

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, UST, Idiots to Lovers

Tag: @ilovemyapopbaby

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Not even the 1000 thread-count, egyption cotton goose down stuffed, softest and most beautiful feeling against the bare skin of your legs luxury blanket could save the shit show that was the sleep you got that night.

You could lie to yourself and say that the reason you were lying here with your eyes wide open staring at the ceiling was the shrieking 150-mile per hour winds that were making this entire building groan, tremble, and shake maybe hard enough for thousands of pounds of bricks and steel to crash down on top of your head, but the real reason you were awake was because of the man who was sound asleep on the end furthest away from you of this big room.

While it was the sound of the storm that woke you up, once you were awakened, you found it impossible to fall back asleep. You had no idea what time it was and the second your mind awoke it betrayed you. It was the remnants of a dream that was interrupted. The imagery of the dream faded nearly instantly but you didn’t need the details to recognize the subject of your dream. That familiar face that had been haunting you for months and after the mistake he made tonight, that face and specifically those lips seemed to have been knitted into the fabric of your subconscious.

You rubbed your eyes. The view of the underside of the bunk bead on top of you was nearly as black as the inside of your eyelids had been. You felt the last bits of the dream slip away. It didn’t matter much because your brain simply switched from trying to grab ahold of the dream to sinking down hard into the very recent, very real actual memory of Kyungsoo’s lips and unimaginable softness of them. His lips and his teeth and his tongue and the pull from him. From his mouth, from his arms, from somewhere deep inside of his chest when he inhaled his air right from within your mouth and pulled and pulled from the center of you right smack into the center of him.

Of all the things he could have done. Of all the things he always did.It was almost as if he was tuned in and hyper aware of all of your weaknesses and ready to exploit each one of them at a moment's notice. Your sleepy mind tried to grasp it, desperate to explain it — him kissing you, and that kiss being just a drunken mistake, it felt like just another way for him to mock you.

Of course he had no way of knowing how long it had been since a handsome man had showed you attention. You hoped he couldn’t tell just how desperate you felt for it, for the touches, for the kisses, for the sex — all of it. You’d probably die on the spot if those things were also accompanied by someone also being nice to you.

This was Doh Kyungsoo you were talking about. Not only did the man despise you but he sought out to actively torture you on the daily. Before it was online but now he’d been doing it in person and what if this — what if this fucking kiss had also just been something he did for his own sick amusement because he knew you would wake up at 2 or 3 or 4am and be unable to sleep because if you touched your own lips ever so lightly with your fingertips it kinda sorta reminded you of the way it felt for that terrifyingly beautiful man to kiss you.

You dropped your hand from your face and you tossed over to your side on the bed. It squeaked as you moved and you wondered at his ability to sleep through the scariest and loudest winds you’ve ever heard in person.

Your body woke up and now you could feel your bladder calling. Any more attempts at sleep were finished.

You grabbed your flashlight and plopped your feet down on the floor, covering the beam with the palm of your hand so the whole room wasn’t lit up like the Fourth of July and with the tiny bit of light you allowed to escape you were able to navigate the straight shot between the bunks toward the bathrooms.

You had to walk by his bed to get there and you squeezed your hand around your flashlight tighter as you did it, not in any hurry to wake your own personal demon any earlier than you absolutely had to.

From the motionlessness of that tightly covered bastard sized lump on his bed, he was clearly not bothered by the storm enough to be pulled from his deep sleep.

After using the bathroom and washing your hands, all with the flashlight turned off for maximum discretion, you took a barefooted step on the floor and stepped on something hard and plastic. It hurt and you lifted your foot when you put it back down your foot landed down on something sticky and cool feeling. The room smelled overwhelmingly of peppermint.

You had to use the flashlight. You wrapped it in your sleep shirt as tightly as you could manage and you turned it on.

Toothpaste. Blue toothpaste, the kind with the tiny bits of sparkly confetti inside of it that was probably terrible for the environment. It was everywhere. There were long strands of it squirted clear across the floor in front of this sink and even several streaks on the mirror on the wall. The toothpaste cap was the piece of plastic you had stepped on and you recalled how you had tried to ignore the sounds of a great struggle you had heard in here last night after you had gone to bed. You’d heard deep grunting, water running, items clattering, and the occasional drunken mumble. You were entirely too upset at the time to even want to help him and you had some dark thoughts about how even if he slipped and broke his neck you wouldn’t even consider getting up to cover his body with a sheet. It seemed a certain overly indulgent drunk man had fought a great battle here with a tube of toothpaste and you looked down at the wrangled and crumpled capless tube that sat on the edge of the sink here and the toothbrush very carefully balanced beside it.

You, yourself, were fighting your own battle right now. You grabbed the toothbrush he’d so stupidly left behind and you lifted your foot, scooping every bit of that thick peppermint gunk off of the bottom of your foot, using the water to rinse it so you could go in again, this time using the bristles to thoroughly clean in between your toes. While he deserved it, you decided against scrubbing this whole floor or god forbid the mirror, sink and even the toilet with the thing, not because you had any sort of bad feelings about it, but because you didn’t want to work that hard at maybe 2, maybe 3, maybe 4 in the fucking morning when you should be asleep rather than be on fire from the inside and cleaning up the mess he made when he was too drunk to control himself. Instead you grabbed toilet paper to clean up the remainder of the mess and tossed the whole thing inside of the big trash bin. The entire room smelled delightful.

His toothbrush got one more pass over the bottom of your foot before you carefully placed it right back in the same spot he had left it next to the now capped tube of his toothpaste. You’d smoothed out some of those deep wrinkles caused by his careless fingers. The volume inside was much less but at least it looked somewhat normal again.

You didn’t bother with covering your flashlight as you exited. You were done with it. With feeling bad about possibly waking him up, with feeling bad for having wanted him so badly last night, with feeling any sort of way about him whatsoever. You simply moved through the room as if you were it’s only occupant and you could hardly even hear the low bellied groaning that was coming from that bed when the bright beam of your LED flashlight just happened to make a few careless passes over his bed.

You saw his closed eyes tighten and arms tensed as he pulled his crappy loser’s blanket tightly over his head. You heard the lowest curse under his breath when his hands flew up to cradle his head and he groaned out in pain.

He’d be waking up to a hangover for sure. He’d have a killer headache made so much worse by the loud sounds of the wind outside and the bright flashlight in his face. He’d be feeling even more miserable than you felt right now.

“What — time is it?” He groaned, reaching out with wandering hands within his blanket until he found something — his phone, he groaned while dropping the phone within his blankets again. You could see he’d connected his phone to charge on the snazzy portable power bank he’d won in the games. You’d won no such prize and even if you did charge it, your phone didn’t have any signal or any real purpose to serve for you to bother with charging it. Before it went out you could see that the clock on his black phone screen said 4:35am. You’d managed to get a little more sleep than you thought.

“Why are you up?” He’d obviously seen you, he’d obviously figured you’d been the one to shine the flashlight right in his face. His voice was low and very groggy sounding, “storm woke you up?” The word sexy flashed through your mind quickly and it stung like a rubber band against the flesh as you pushed it deep down.

You’d long ago dropped the flashlight from his face but something in his line of questioning had you caught off guard. Doh Kyungsoo didn’t usually ask you much about you. He felt different in his sleep. It was odd and you let the flashlight sag down just behind your back, just enough for the light beam to be more of a distant afterthought than a blinding occurrence.

“Can’t sleep,” you admitted in a whisper just quietly enough for the words to be made out over the sound of the storm.

His questions had stopped and you wondered if he had fallen back asleep but another look at him told you he wasn't sleeping but had gone silent because he was beginning to really feel it. You could see how he massaged his temples with the thumbs of both hands and after a few moments you heard another low groan of pain.

“What’s wrong?” You asked without any of the well earned smugness you really deserved, “drank too much last night?”

He rolled under his blanket and the groan turned into a moan. It sounded like he was in pain. It was a pain sound, not a sound that could be misinterpreted by your silly 4:35am brain to sound like anything else; this low throaty moaning was the sound of a man deep into the throes of regret, physical pain, probably nausea, and even more regret. In fact, you hoped and prayed that regret was the primary symptom and everything else was just a bonus.

“Do you usually make a big mess of things when you drink?”

He was sitting up. He was moving.His eyes were closed and his mouth was open. His cheeks were flushed and pink and his hair was standing up in places. You could smell the stale stench of alcohol coming from him in waves.

“I don’t — usually — get drunk — easily.” His words came out staggered. While he might have brushed his teeth last night, he hadn’t figured out the genius way to shower without risking being fully nude in an open room right next to your arch nemesis like you had. His blanket was tossed away and he was placing both feet on the floor and he reached out a hand to touch the wall for balance.

“Fucking Javier,” you heard him mumble under his breath, of course blaming someone else for the problems he caused himself. He had a hand outstretched to you now, his squint so severe as he turned in the direction of you and your blinding flashlight that you didn’t think his eyes were open at all, “can you — turn that off?” he pleaded.

“Turn what off?” You lifted the flashlight and waved it around the room, sending jolts and waves of bright light all around you, being sure to pass a few bright beams right toward his face. “This?” You shook it a little. His hands flew up to cover his face. “How will you see? It’s completely dark without it.”

“Please,” he groaned again and he was pushing with his feet, standing up on two of the wobbliest legs you’ve ever seen a man standing on.

He’d made the two steps required to get out from between his bed and the wall and the second he reached the space where you stood and had removed his security hand from the wall that was keeping him grounded, you pushed the button to turn off the light, sending you both in the blackest darkness you thought possible.

He made a sound. A mixture between a yelp and a whimper and you heard the smallest shuffle of feet taking itty bitty steps forward. He was quietly cursing again. You knew he’d been disoriented now. You’d had a good look at your position in the room before you’d turned out the light and you knew the exact number of steps and the exact direction you needed to take to get back to the comfort and security of your bed. You’d even memorized the number of bunk beds you’d need to pass to get to yours.

Something had your feet stalled though. You kind of wanted to see how he fared.

You heard the moment he went for a bigger step by the collision his shin made with the cold hard metal of the edge of the bunk. He hadn’t cleared the obstacle completely before he went for it and instantly there was a deep gasp of air, a hiss from the pain and another deep throated curse word, probably in many ways directed at you.

“A-Are you still here?” That was absolutely directed at you. You heard more movement. More small steps and you could hear it closer to where you stood listening over the sounds of that storm that raged outside and you waited for something awful to happen.

When something awful happened it wasn’t inside of this room though, a bang sound, it felt and sounded like a bomb, it hit so sudden and felt so shocking, so loud, so much louder than anything you’d ever heard, the thunderous boom of a thunderclap that must have hit extreme close by — from the nearly instantaneous flash of light that echoed through the bathroom from those tiny windows, maybe even hit the building itself and you screamed and jumped so hard with the shock you dropped your flashlight and heard it clanking down somewhere at your feet and the telltale sounds of it rolling somewhere in this room, somewhere under a bed maybe, somewhere far away in the absolute pitch blackness of a room with at least 10 pinky toe breaking metal bed frames and zero ideas where to start looking.

“Fuck,” he swore outloud at the same time as you screamed, “fuck — that was close.”

“Can — can you turn the light back on?”

You had uncovered your ears and lifted your head back up from the cowering position and after a few moments you registered his question.

“I dropped it. I got scared and I dropped it.”

“You dropped the only light we have?” His voice suddenly had all of the familiar tones of judgements and sass that you’d grown so accustomed to hearing from him and you rolled your eyes even though he wasn’t able to see it, it still made you feel marginally better.

“We? Honey, that was my own personal flashlight to drop.”

“Well shit. Well done, Princess,” you could hear him moving again, this time closer to where you still stood. You suddenly felt nervous that you might lose your carefully mapped mental layout of this room if you moved too much.

“Wait a minute,” his movement stopped, “you never won a flashlight.”

You were grateful for the darkness. You hadn’t figured out your cover story for how you got one of Sara’s stolen flashlights yet.

“I brought it with me,” you lied and you heard the smallest scoff from him.

“Are you kidding me?” The sounds of his shuffling grew much closer and began to wonder what on earth he was even doing. If he was looking for the bathrooms he was going the wrong way.

“You didn’t even bring a charger for your phone. You — You,” he emphasized the target of his rant, “You, vapid, social media addicted, attention desperate, doom scroller who hasn’t gone a single hour without posting something in the last four years, You haven’t posted a single thing about this trip.” You frowned at the man, annoyed once again that he seemed to know way too much about you at all times.

“So that means that you didn’t even get,” he continued, “an — an international SIM card for your phone, and you expect me to believe that you had the circumspection, mental preparedness, and forethought to bring a flashlight on this trip?”

“A friend gave it to me here,” you confessed too quickly, making every word you’d ever said in the past and every word you’d ever say in the future forever sound suspicious even though it was purely the guilt you felt for receiving that stolen flashlight; you didn’t win any games to earn such a precious thing — not quite knowing why you would bother to feel guilty about it but feeling a the guilt nonetheless.

“Bullshit,” he declared, now that you’d come up with a second, back up story your credibility was shot. “You stole it. Or the friend stole it. Which means it isn’t really yours.” There was effort in his voice. He was moving roughly, doing something in the darkness that made his words come out jagged.

You heard him a split second before you felt the blow. You felt a swinging arm collide roughly with you at probably the speed of an actual punch and instantly a sharp jolt of pain surged through your chest, namely your left boob. The pain was overwhelming in an instant and it took your air from your lungs as it radiated through your entire chest. You yelped out in a cry of pain and that hand that had collided with you, paired with the other, very suddenly reached out for your shoulders, gripping and rubbing up and down lightly.

“Shit, sorry — sorry, I didn’t mean — fuck, I’m sorry,” he was talking fast in an instant. He was apologizing and the sound of his voice was so much softer and devoid of his usual sarcasm, more than you’d ever heard from him. “Where did I hit you? I can’t see anything, fuck, you know I wasn’t trying to hit you, right? God, I’m so sorry.”

You were gasping as the pain slowly began to turn from that sharp burn and it shifted into a slower moving throbbing ache and through clenched teeth you answered, “you got me right in the tit.” You lifted your hand and rubbed over it, “fuck,” you added, unable to pretend like it didn’t hurt just for the sake of the genuine apologies that flew out of his mouth, because it really actually did hurt.

“Goddamn,” he whispered. Now that his hands were on you, you noticed he wasn’t letting go, but probably using you as some sort of a landmark so he could figure out which direction to travel. He inhaled a breath and his hands rubbed up and down your arms once more. He was rubbing you in the way that someone might rub over the injury, but it wasn’t as if he could do that.

“D-Do you want to hit me too? So are we even?”

You felt one of his hands leave your shoulder, moving downward and he reached down to grab ahold of your hand. He lifted it and with his other hand he very carefully closed your fingers, folding them into your palm to make you make a fist. You felt him pull your fist and you heard the smallest sound from his mouth, a punching sound effect as he softly pushed your fist into his chest.

“Here you can hit me,” he whispered, “that might not hurt the same,” he paused and lifted your hand, touching lightly over your fingers to readjust your fist form and you felt him pull it into the softness of his cheek where his cheekbone was. “Here, it’ll hurt here. Hit me here.”

You didn’t even feel the pain anymore. You hadn't said anything to him either and you felt an oddness deep inside of you with the unusually soft way he was talking to you. With the under layer of silliness you could hear in his voice with the sounds of your fake punches he acted out by pulling your fist into his face again and again. You put no strength into it though, you just let him move your hand into him again and again until he went motionless with his hand still wrapped around your wrist up near his face.

After a few moments of your inaction and silence he inhaled to speak.

“You okay?” You weren’t.

You didn’t answer him. This was too hard already. This version of him, this sweet, silly man that he never ever gave you any of, this handsome and charming and talented man who wanted absolutely nothing to do with you as a person — you, the vapid attention whore without the mental acumen to even consider bringing along a charger for her phone and you hadn’t even known an international SIM card was even a thing but that was just who you were. And he’d really rather get drunk out of his mind than spend any time alone with you sober.

You felt it then. This was hopeless. You and your stupid habits. You and your entire life lived without anything worth a damn to show for it except for a stolen flashlight and even that you couldn’t hold on to.

Kyungsoo spoke again, only this time and for the first time in all of you knowing him, you heard him whisper something unimaginable. He called out your name. There was that same sound of worry on his voice and the hand he had your wrist held in shifted and you felt it open, you felt his fingers wrap around your hand and he squeezed down around your closed fist, saying your name again with another, “hey, come on, you okay?”

He must have heard the first few sniffles from your nose even over the sound of the storm.

“Come on, say you’re okay.” He pleaded lightly, “I’m sorry I was doing speedy windmill arms during a blackout and accidentally punched you in the tit. Come on, you’re supposed to get mad at me and punch me in the face and call me a rat bastard.” He lifted your hand again and made the pow-pow-pow sounds with his mouth.

The surprise of his candor brought the smallest laugh out of your chest, against your will. He was shaking your hand down near his thigh with the words he was saying.

You pushed lightly against his chest with your free hand and wriggled your other hand free from within his closed grip. He let you go easily but you still felt his fingertips lingering just over your forearm. He didn’t want to lose your position again.

“Why the hell were you doing that anyway?”

“I don’t know. I’m an idiot. I was trying to find you and I got too into it. What’s it feel like? Getting hit in the tit?”

“It fucking hurts, Stupid. Want me to kick you in the nuts so we can compare on a pain scale of one to ten?”

You lifted a knee halfway up. You felt the clench of his muscles when you said it and his hands moved down in alarm, one arm blocking over his crotch and the other arm you felt his entire hot hand land over your bare thigh. You weren’t really going to do it but it was still fun to witness him panic like this. He had been so fast to block it and it brought another small giggle from you which thankfully was blocked out by another loud thunder boom.

You could feel him moving now. The perceived crisis with him actually physically hitting you with his hands instead of the usual wounds made with his words was over for now and you could feel the grip of his hands pulling on your night shirt as he moved away from you now.

“Which direction are you going?” Whatever he was seeking, you still had the layout of this place well ingrained in your head and you could probably help, for the sake of both of you who were trapped in this situation together. It really was in your best interest to find some light. You knew of three sources, a tiny lightbulb that could be turned on with the red light switch on the wall located somewhere deep in that bathroom that was connected to the emergency generator, the red electrical socket near his bed which was also connected and his own cell phone, which should be easily findable if he just found his bed frame first, which should be about five steps behind him to the right.

“Your bed is behind you, to the right. Just look for your bed and get your phone.” You applauded yourself for being so helpful to someone who deserved so little and you heard the soft grunt of approval from him as he turned and let go of your shirt.

“Five steps back, then turn right and it’s right there.”

You heard some silence and then you heard hands running over fabric. It felt, to your ears, like he might not quite have listened to your directions though. He was coming from the left side of you. You heard a few straining sounds and more hands running over fabric.

“This isn’t my bed,” he said from somewhere in the distance, “you said right? Your right? My right? Whose fucking right?”

You felt it then, the panic for your slip. Again. Again and again.

“Uhh,” you whispered, knowing you’d done it again. “It’s to the left, my left. I got them mixed up again.”

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him say under his breath and he was moving again, presumably making his way around the wrong bed, headed twice as far now in the correct direction, “they never change. I don't understand how you can’t learn something that never changes. What if you just call it something else? Okay, which direction from you is the bathroom?”

“I don't know. Left?” You got it right because it was fresh in your mind. That was the way he was supposed to go for his bed. Left. You knew it would vanish if any significant amount of time passed though.

“Okay so instead of left, let’s call that ‘interior,’ and right can be ‘exterior.’”

You’d never thought about naming them something else before but you felt more and more exhausted the longer he talked about this. It was too damn early for this kind of lesson on language and you could feel your mind beginning to drift the longer he nagged about it. You must have let out a long and tired sounding sigh.

“Calling it ‘interior’ is kind of…” you were grumbling at this point. You didn’t really care enough about being right all the time, especially if it meant that he got to struggle a little harder whenever you were wrong, “kind of weird,” you finished your critique of his choice of words.

“Yeah, I know, right? If only they had perfect names already, like East and West, or Right and Left. Lift up your interior hand.”

You sighed and lifted the hand that was closest to the bathroom and you did it instantly and you let out a surprised little “oh.”

“Did it work? Is the hand closest to my voice?” he asked, and you flinched and squinted when the room was suddenly lit up. He had his flashlight on his cell phone illuminated and you were standing with your ‘interior’ hand lifted high up into the air just as he had told you.

“Exterior hand,” he said and you quickly dropped the left and raised the right hand.

“Okay now turn around.” You felt his fingers land on your shoulders and he was pushing you to spin around in a circle and you rolled your eyes as if this little brain rewiring thing he was doing would even work with you.

“Remember, ‘interior’ is always going to be this side of you, even if the bathroom moves.” He tapped your left side lightly with his fingertips.

“Exterior,” he said much too loudly for not even five in the morning and you lifted the right arm easily. You could make out his hair bouncing with the nodding up and down of his head and he called out the other side, smiling lightly as you responded as he wanted you to. He did it a few more times and you were getting sick of this, shaking your head and scowling at him because you were done. You don't want to learn anymore. You were too old and you were tired.

“East!” He shouted, his voice in full volume with his arms outstretched in some mysterious direction toward the wall behind his bed. You just shook your head and crossed your arms in front of your chest. It was clear to anyone that you were done cooperating with this man. “Come on. That way is east, so the other way is west.” He was reaching with his voice. You had already taken several steps away from him and all of his effort to make you a better person. He could fuck right off with that — and at five in the morning.

“Bed!” you shouted. You were done. You were spinning on your heels, spotting your flashlight easily near one of the beds about the middle of the room thanks to the light on his phone that illuminated the room enough. You reached down and picked it up. “Flashlight!” you shouted, matching his crazed enthusiasm for directions of all things and by the time you’d made it back to the sanctity of your bed, away from any more grand life lessons he had already given up on you and had disappeared into the bathroom, taking his light with him. You could see the glow in the room, disappearing further into the room and it grew fainter as he used the toilet, becoming a little brighter as he went to the sink to wash his hands and becoming even brighter still when he emerged at the bathroom door. All you saw was a bright circle of light. You couldn’t make out what he was holding behind the blinding light that was facing in your direction.

Apparently, all it took was some exhausting educational lessons to make you feel very sleepy. You had already covered your head with your winner’s blanket to drown out the sounds of the wind and the rain outside as well as the sounds of anything else that man might want to say to you.

You could still hear enough though and his next question managed to seep through the layers of feathers and one thousand threads per square whatever and his question pulled you up from the sleep you were falling deep into.

“Hey! Did you throw away like half of my toothpaste?”

He must have been cleaning up for the day already. After you didn’t respond to him you drifted off to the sounds of the running shower somewhere on the other side of that wall.

When you woke back up it must have been hours later. You felt so much more energized than when you had woken up in the middle of the night. A quick stretch with plenty of stretching noises preceded your sitting up on the bed and shoving your blanket off of your groggy body but something felt different about the sounds in this room. Everything felt so quiet. You looked around, listening for sounds of him, for sounds of the storm outside and there was an eeriness about the silence that made you wonder if perhaps the storm was over and he had left this place, leaving you to navigate the maze of spiders and dark spooky hallways all alone.

You stood up and made your way through the bunks, seeing that all of his belongings were still exactly where he had left them and the bathroom sink still had his toothpaste and toothbrush — you felt the bristles and could feel a dampness that told you that yes, the man had used the foot scrubbing toothbrush this morning and after the tit punch, you refused to feel bad about it — as well as a few bottles of shampoo and that one bar of soap that Mr. Chen had passed out to everybody last night. Clearly he had just left you to sleep in after his early morning shower and you wondered if he was already eating something delicious for breakfast without you.

You were hungry but more importantly you needed the bathrooms. Without any real fear of him barging in on you now you took just a bit of extra care getting ready. You’d picked out one of your cutest outfits from your suitcase, the one that you were sure was supposed to grab the attention of all of the most handsome and charming men at the Shady Sands Resort single’s retreat and you even took care to get your makeup looking fresh and not overly done, making sure the view from behind showcased your greatest assets, the shape of your ass and your waist that you’d been specifically working on for months at the gym. So what if there were no men you were interested in here. There was one man you were at least interested in torturing a little bit here. That would have to serve as your entertainment.

As you made your way down the hallway toward the blue door of the kitchen you could hear the faint thumping of music playing behind the door.

You pulled the door open and you were greeted by a few familiar faces, apart from Sara, each one looked just a little bit tired and green around the edges. Sara and Mr. Chen sat on one side of the kitchen counter, Javier was on the other side with a — god bless him — coffee pot full of black gold, and Kyungsoo sat with his head thrown back and his eyes closed in what looked to be a rather groggy but freshly showered state. His hair was completely dry and the way it moved you could tell just how soft it must feel to the fingers — should someone wish to do such a thing with his hair and their fingers, these were hypothetical fingers. Definitely not your fingers.

“Good morning!” Mr. Chen forced the smile to his face to see you and you caught the shift in Kyungsoo’s posture as he straightened his shoulders, turned his head toward you and opened his eyes. You tried not to linger too long inside of his eyes and you noticed once he looked at you he quietly turned his head and looked away from you just as quickly as you had done to him.

Sara and Javier seemed to be working on something together, there were stacks of ingredients for breakfast and seeing the ingredients alone had your stomach begging for some food. You didn’t see Jun or Roxy around and you felt just a little bit like a responsible adult for not being the last one to wake up today.

“Jun and Roxy had to leave early this morning,” Mr. Chen burst your responsible adult bubble, “Roxy’s mom lives on the island and her home sustained some heavy damage from the winds last night so they went to help out. We are still in the eye of the storm, but the south side is projected to be much weaker, so hopefully the worst of it is over.”

Left behind on the table near the white board were the prizes they had won last night and you wondered if there would be more games to claim them or if that camping stove and fuel cans were now officially communal.

The white board hadn’t changed much since last night. Your column had an extra warning about your low alcohol tolerance, instructions to make drinks at half strength, and the word ‘fall risk’ written there too but there were no equal warnings next to Kyungsoo’s name. In fact it seemed that he had very little negative things written in his column at all. On paper this guy was perfect. Meanwhile you could still feel the remnants of him all over you. Mostly from the self-inflicted obsessive thoughts about the kiss, but your boob was still just a little sore when you’d put on your bra this morning.

They obviously didn’t know about his secret drinking habits that liked to come out only when there were no witnesses.

“Javier was serving coffee and you gratefully accepted a cup, pulling a seat up to sit right beside Kyungsoo at this counter as you watched Sara carefully arranging utensils for cooking.

Yet no actual cooking was being done and you began to get that same old familiar feeling that something was afoot. There would be some sort of competition. Beside you, Kyungsoo refused to look at you and seemed to only focus on his coffee in front of him with the occasional hand lifted to massage his temples. He still had the headache.

You reached into your front pocket and pulled out the little foil pack you usually carried with you at all times, some pain relievers for when womanly aches and pains simply became too much to handle and you tossed the little packet on the counter right beside him.

His head ticked toward the sound and he looked down at your offering; his big eyes popping up to look into yours. He didn’t grab it right away and you leaned your head toward him, urging him to just take it with a small disarming smile. It was the least you could do; an apology in advance for what you were about to do to him. You turned away from him and lifted your coffee for a sip. Out of your peripheral vision you could see him reach for the foil packet and he was opening it when you opened your mouth to speak.

“Javier,” you spoke-up clearly, “I think Kyungsoo’s drinks need to be made at least half as strong from now on.” You lifted a hand and pointed toward the white board, specifically meaning the section under his name that was missing the same sorts of warnings as yours displayed.

In an instant, you had the attention of everyone in the room.

“He’s got quite a doozy of a drinking habit that I personally learned about first-hand after last night.”

You heard a sound come from beside you and you glanced to your ‘exterior’ side to see a pair of big brown beautiful eyes looking at you in alarm. Apparently, although the man was too drunk last night to act responsibly with his hands and more distressingly, his lips, he still remembered the entirety of the event. Tellingly, his wide eyes looked down at your lips and back up again into your eyes before his face flushed and he swallowed the mouthful of coffee he had in his mouth.

You looked at him and he looked at you with his cheeks, his neck, and his ears slowly turning a bright red with the memory you had just dragged up. In his hands was the empty foil packet of the pills he had just taken for his headache. It would be a while before they started to work and he groaned beside you, closing his eyes and rubbing both of his hands over his face. It was embarrassment mixed with pain.

“I’m listening,” Mr. Chen had perked up from his own hangover headache and Sara had a positively wild eyed look in her eyes and an eager smile, ready to hear whatever bit of gossip you had to offer about the man who sat right beside you.

You giggled to yourself, “Apparently, when he’s very drunk,” you lifted a finger to gesture in his direction. His face was still covered with both of his hands as you began to speak, “he likes to go into the bathroom to brush his teeth and make the biggest mess with toothpaste you’ve ever seen.”

The hands dropped and he looked at you. His mouth hung open.

Their faces were amused, all but Kyungsoo who just looked at you with rapt attention. Based on his reaction, this was not the bombshell he thought you were about to drop.

“I even stepped in it at 4 in the morning in complete darkness, I stepped on something disgusting. It was so cold and wet. When I turned on the light my whole foot was covered in blue and there was toothpaste all over the floor, sprayed all over the mirrors and the walls. Like someone murdered a Smurf.” You were full on giggling and Kyungsoo had looked ahead of himself with both of his hands fisted in front of him and his bottom lip lightly bouncing off of his closed fists.

“What did you do? Did you wake him up and make him clean it himself?” Sara and Mr Chen shook their heads back and forth, clearly amused but Javier had been the one to ask the important question.

“Well, I had to clean it all, or course. It was a slipping hazard. I scrubbed my foot with a toothbrush I found in there — just left behind on the sink — green one, I think.”

You’d looked into his face when you said it and his open mouth fell even further before his jaw snapped shut and he looked ahead of himself, across the countertop toward Javier. His jaw was clenched down hard. His nostrils flared and he breathed hard, in and out.

“Got in between the toes and everything,” you smiled widely and Sara stifled a giggle in the palm of her hand. She was already headed to the white board and you heard squeaks as there was now a matching red note below his name to match yours. Both said ‘half strength drinks.’ You were satisfied with that much.

You’d spare the both of you the humiliation of bringing up the kiss, which would have been a bigger hoot with this crowd and would definitely garner another entry under that sad little heart column that sat between your names. There hadn’t been an entry there since early yesterday. If anything, he was lucky you’d stopped there with the grand revelations. He was glaring at you though, unable to be thankful for a damned thing you did for him, even as those pain medicines were dissolving in his stomach now and beginning to make their way into his bloodstream to take care of the lingering headache that the caffeine from his coffee hadn’t gotten rid of.

“Did you seriously scrub your foot with it?” He was speaking lowly to you while looking down at the empty pill foil. Looking just a little more queasy with each passing moment.

“Why — was that yours?” You shrugged and lifted your cup for a sip, “guess you’ll be happy to hear I showered last night. In fact I was just finishing up when you stumbled in there, Kyungsoo. Do you remember that, or were you too drunk for that too?”

His eyes were on you and he closed them slowly as he inhaled a calming breath.

“I — remember,” he confessed after several breaths.

“All of it?” you pushed back, strangely needing this spoken by him. He didn’t respond with words but you saw the strained single nod of his head and he inhaled a breath, lifting himself from the stool to move his empty coffee cup to the countertop beside the sink.

“Well…why’d you do that?” You’d started this talk with all of the false bravado you could dream up, but the longer it went on, the less gumption you found to fall back on. You’d begun to sound just a little unsure of yourself, just a little scared of the answers he would have for you. “Just to mess with me?” The last question came out meek and scared sounding.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” he said in a single breath; his voice low yet direct with a hand raised to dismiss you entirely with a quick wave of his fingers.

Why did he get to decide that? Why was he the one who got to call the end of the conversation just because he couldn't really come face to face with the fact that he might be a bad guy?

“Hey, are you two still talking about the toothbrush?” Finished with her notes on the white board, Sara watched you both with suspicious eyes.

“Yes.”

”Yes,” you both answered at the exact same time and his eyes shot toward yours darkly, with a warning behind them for you to drop it. It wouldn't be discussed and it definitely wouldn't be happening again, not with the restrictions written into the rules of this retreat here.

“Okay, so half drinks for everyone, Javier. Mr. Chen looks rough this morning too.”

The head chef frowned his lips and nodded his head sheepishly.

Mr. Chen was taking his position at the front of the room and he cleared his throat. You knew to look for him for the instructions for whatever challenge you both would be presented with next and he clapped his hands quietly once and began to speak.

The challenge this morning was for breakfast. It seems you both would be cooking together again. That wasn’t new. The roles however were switched this time and much to your dismay you were going to be the one handling the ingredients and actually cooking them. Because Kyungsoo was an actual chef, he needed some sort of a handicap and Mr. Chen announced that Kyungsoo would not be able to use his voice during this cooking round but you could use all of your senses because, according to the three individuals who were in charge, you were a ‘liability.’ You frowned to hear this, feeling that maybe they had misjudged you. But at the same time not wanting to fight them too hard for them to blindfold as to disagree with them. If it meant you could keep your eyes, you would be their liability.

All of Kyungsoo’s instructions to you would need to be made with only his eyes and gestures, but touching was also allowed and highly encouraged. After the last cooking round where you’d spent much of the activity practically hugging the man, you hoped to god he was satisfied with your cooking skills enough to just let you figure it out yourself. You had one hour.

You at least knew enough to gather all of the veggies and take them to the sink to wash them and Kyungsoo was standing beside you with his eyes down on the ingredients looking at them individually and looking up at you. He did it a couple of times and you shook your head at him. Were you supposed to know what he was saying? This was bullshit. He was wasting time. You lifted an onion and asked “do you want me to cut this?” He shook his head.

“Do you want me to peel it?” was your next guess and that got another head shake. You were already frustrated. The man needed to do better than this.

“Do you want me to shove it up your ass?” There were giggles around the kitchen and he closed his eyes and inhaled a breath, then he looked up into the empty space above him for just a few seconds.

At last he moved. At last he lifted a hand and placed it on your forearm, lifting your hand lightly, he placed it on top of a tomato that sat beside the onion. He reached for your other hand and placed your hand on top of the knife handle and you gripped both.

“Cut?” You asked and finally, that got a nod. Jesus. You’d stab the man at this rate.

You held the tomato and made one cut right down the middle, cutting the thing in half. His eyes watched you and you couldn't quite make sense of the expression there but when you lifted one of the tomato halves to hold in your hand and you were about to cut out the inedible core, you felt him move quickly. With one swift hand, he slapped you on the back of the knife hand and he did it hard. It made you jump and gasp in shock. He had just slapped your hand like you were a misbehaving puppy.

Whatever it was that you were doing he didn’t like it. He was standing behind you and you could feel the warmth of his chest cover your back as he did this. His other hand wrapped around your tomato hand and he turned it around so the tomato was facing sliced side down on the cutting board. You saw him lift the hand that held the knife again, pointing the blade part toward your hand, he dropped it and made a little X shape with both of his fingers. He then turned the knife around, pointing the sharp point toward your body and again, made the same X shape with his fingers. You were corrected instantly, all sharp and pointy parts of the knife should point away from your body. He was saving you from slicing your hand off, or stabbing yourself in the stomach.

“Oh, don't stab myself to death — got it,” you whispered into the space in front of you. When you turned your head slightly to the ‘interior’ you could just make out his face there, super close to you.

You cut the stupid tomato into chunks. They were big and clunky but they were cut. He forced your hands into a certain shape and you were now picking the cutting board up and taking it over to set down beside the stove.

You felt like his puppet. He’d long given up on letting you take the reins after the first thing you tried to slice up was yourself, and you were now steered and directed by expert hands. Not only had you, as his avatar, managed to make something tasty and saucy with those tomatoes and a few other ingredients, but he now had you vigorously whipping up something thick and bright yellow that had butter and egg yolks, which were challenging to get out without breaking them. The sauce was coming out velvety and thick but he was shaking your hands so hard to get them to whisk faster the whole thing made you tremble and vibrate so much that every question you asked had a tremor that made you giggle and when you turned your head to look at him you caught the matching smile on his face that widened when he grabbed your hand again and shook you even harder.

When it was time to taste the sauce, your hand was simply grabbed, made to stick out your index finger and he dipped it right into the sauce, lifting it up to stick it into your own mouth.

“It’s good,” you declared and never one to take your word he was dipping your finger into the sauce and pulling your finger into his open mouth. You froze for a moment when he did it. His eyes were looking down at the sauce when he sucked on your finger but he must have felt the gasp for air you inhaled and it pulled his own eyes into your own. You pulled your own hand away, leaving behind his wet tongue and soft lips and those big brown eyes that looked into your own without saying a single word.

Something was happening inside of your chest. The close proximity paired with the scent of his soap and the warmth of his body had been taking its toll. You must have been imaging it to feel the soft grip he held your hand with as you poached the eggs. You must have imagined the soft caress of his thumb over the back of your hand and you froze almost entirely with the egg cooked to soft jiggly consistency suspended inside the slotted spoon. There was a plate with english muffins and thick cut ham slices ready to receive this egg but your stupid mind kept replaying the way his fingers traveled so slowly up your forearm to reach your hand, the gentle circles he touched into your skin, maybe giving you secret messages with scribed letters that told you things about the meaning behind that kiss last night.

You were stuck. The egg jiggled and he ran his hands up your arm slowly before he tap-tapped twice, lightly on your arm, urging you to turn around to deposit the thing on the plate so it could be finished off with sauce. You were a mess though. What was he doing to you? This felt like a trick of your mind. He was just trying to cook using your hands and you were imagining that his touches were softer and more meaningful than they were. That inhale he took from your neck and the softest groan that you felt echoed through your chest didn’t solve any of your mysteries either. You were stuck.

It was him that moved you. You felt his arm wrap around your waist and the warmth of his chest pressed into your back, his chin landed over your shoulders, dipping his cheek against yours; you felt the warm exhale against the skin of your neck and his hand landed just under your breasts, gripping you tightly, high around the rib cage. He lifted you and spun you around, bringing your inaction, your confusion, and your jiggly egg along for the ride and he placed you down not with a rough drop but with a gentle and careful slip down the length of his body behind you, you slid right down in place in front of the plate. There was a movement of his hand, he rotated your spoon and the egg landed with a soft plop where he wanted it.

You turned to look at his face. You needed so many more clues than he was giving you and you found his brown eyes watching you with something unreadable happening inside of them. Those eyes looked into your own and unimaginably, they touched down the length of your face and landed on your lips. Unimaginably, you did the same thing and when it all became too much you simply closed your eyes, finding that the thumping of his heart beating inside of his chest seemed to match the racing you felt happening inside of your own.

With your eyes closed you could feel some of your mind returning to you. You could feel just a little bit more control coming back into your own hands and you lifted a spoonful of sauce to pour it over the top of the very first set of Eggs Benedict you’d ever made in your entire life, complete with homemade hollandaise sauce and a fresh mozzarella, basil and heirloom tomato salad with a balsamic prosciutto vinaigrette that honestly looked like it belonged in a millionaire’s garden party instead of in some bunker during a hurricane operating on emergency generator power.

You looked down at the plate in awe. There was some sort of a timer beeping that called your attention up and away from this pretty thing you’d just created with him and you looked up into the faces of three people who had watched you both with their mouths hung open in stunned silence. Mr. Chen reached forward to push a button on the timer that was ringing out but the other two didn’t seem to move a muscle.

When you looked over at Kyungsoo he had already backed up enough so you could no longer feel every single one of his abdominal muscles through the thin fabric of your summer top and he looked down at the dishes that had been assembled with both of your hands.

His lips pulled into the smallest smile while he looked down and when he looked back up into your face that smile came along with his attention on you.

You felt the smallest bump of his shoulder against yours and he whispered into your ear.

“Not bad for a Princess,” he said with a lift of a single eyebrow.

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

[ratwithhands]

Hi, Viewer Discretion:

This AU is about a nonexistent fictional mental health condition. There is imagery of straitjackets and other restraints, as well as mention of discrimination based off of health conditions. If you are uncomfortable with this content then please feel free to click off and enjoy something else. Thank you.

Dressing Sketch

Uniform Sketches

League Party sketch

Sketch dump for Battle Addict! This art has been gathering dust for a few months 😭 only just remembered to post it here.

These sketches are from Ver. 3 of Battle Addict, aka Battle Addict Twins, where both of them get the HCCM diagnosis.

The base idea for Battle Addict is that while most people enjoy Pokémon battling, there comes a certain point where one's love/obsession for battle starts bleeding into the rest of their life and becoming detrimental to their everyday life. This is usually called Combative Mania (CM), which is present in a large part of the population (40%-60%) hence why battling is so popular and so many different forms of it are made to keep people satisfied. The extreme form is Hyper-Competitive Combative Mania (HCCM), wherein a person spends so much time and energy for battles that it starts to affect their physical/mental health as well as their social life, since they neglect them in favour of their obsession.

Often what divides CM patients from HCCM patients is what they're willing to give up for battling and the extent of their knowledge regarding battles. CM patients usually only have a casual interest in battling or just enjoy the thrill of battling, but operate normally and have other interests outside of battle. They have basic to intermediate knowledge of battling, and can often partake in research or battles.

HCCM patients will often forgo food, water, sleep, school, work, and relationships in favour of researching and competing in battles. It is the only thing they find interest in and they devote most of their time towards it. Patients often memorize entire charts of statistics and different strategies and counterstrategies for battle, with different patients often having a certain subject they specialize in. Most patients with HCCM are unaware that they have it, they either assume that they have CM or that they are completely normal and just enjoy Pokémon battles. They often go into fields that work directly with researching Pokémon or battles, such as professors, scientists, gym leaders, elite four members, league workers, battle facility operators, and so on.

Ingo and Emmet do not know they have HCCM. They engage with battle and researching battle in a way that they think is typical for a hobbyist. Ingo tends to read on academic papers, textbooks, and study guides regarding the statistics and capabilities of Pokémon, whereas Emmet takes a more hands-on approach in studying Pokémon anatomy and battle strategy. Ingo often charts and studies natures, EVs, IVs, stat spreads, abilities, moves, and their properties. Emmet sketches anatomical diagrams and studies of Pokémon, including skeletal structure, musculature, organ systems, and physical appearance, highlighting pressure points in the body for executing the most damage and for keeping his own Pokémon protected. He also tends to read into psychological studies as well as conducting his own long term tests to predict a person's strategy in different situations. The two feed into each other's interests, teaching the other of their own discoveries and celebrating breakthroughs together. As a result, their total knowledge of battling is immense, which led to them becoming Subway Bosses straight out of college.

The two lived and worked fairly normally; they were very passionate about their work and it provided a way to sate their need for fighting on a regular basis, as well as giving them the space to experiment with different fighting styles and analyze others' strategies. Of course they still continue their studying outside of work, which often leads to them trying different methods or revisiting recorded battles to see how they could improve. The twins still believe their hours long discussions, piles of notes, and stacks of study materials littered around their house are perfectly fine, only stopping to reconsider after a comment from a coworker highlights how they must be crazy or incredibly disciplined to have as huge of a win : loss ratio as they do.

They end up taking the issue to a psychiatrist after dwelling on the idea for a few days, which is where they get diagnosed after a few tests and a description of their lifestyle and interests. Their case is considered moderate but could easily escalate into severe if left unchecked, though the main concern is whether this would make them a threat to other people due to their work and prominence. Obviously they don't want to lose their jobs, but this kind of thing could get them removed from the League Council if it got out, so they have to consider whether they share this information with their employers or not. Ingo thinks it'd be best to keep it under wraps, but Emmet fears that this could be used as blackmail and argues that they need to release this information themselves before someone else ruins their lives with it. Eventually they do take the diagnosis to the League Council and it gets out to the public.

Emmet takes the fall for Ingo, claiming his case is severe whereas Ingo's is mild so that the League Council will be more distracted with him to bother Ingo. That ends up with Emmet getting a new restraining uniform because the League no longer trusts him to handle himself in public based off his diagnosis. Neither of them are particularly pleased about this, but Emmet tells Ingo to look on the bright side. Emmet actually starts to find the jacket to be more of a little challenge than a hindrance, as it adds an extra level of difficulty to battles that he's been looking for, but Ingo still thinks it would be better if he hadn't had to wear it at all. This unfortunately extends to League parties where he has to be restrained to even be allowed entry, which he is much less happy about.

This post is getting ungodly long as it is but there's also a branch off of this concept where Ingo and Emmet land in Hisui together and Emmet's uniform looks like this. He deconstructed the uniform he was given to modify his jacket since by that point he had a bit of a sentimental connection to it and didn't want to just swap it out.

(Bonus fun fact: Ingo and Emmet decided to pull the biggest gag on the Pearl Clan when they first land by pretending to be one person under the alias Eki. Ingo is the polite one in the dark coat by day, and Emmet is the energetic one in the white coat by night. "Day Eki" is more popular with other Wardens and older clan members, whereas "Night Eki" is more popular with the village children and insomniacs.

The whole Warden Eki concept is technically its own AU in the background but it did originate from Battle Addict. Also I already drew Emmet in the Pearl Strait I can't take that back)

Anyways uhhh there's more let me see if I can condense it:

The twins went to a University specifically focused on battle (Champion's University), where they ended up studying subjects in their specific interests. Emmet took psychology of battle and Pokémon anatomy to learn about the weak points in trainers and Pokémon, and Ingo took general statistics and study of moves which are exactly what they sound like

The twins use the Vs Recorder all the time, both to track their own progress and to observe how passengers fight. It's often stuck to the glass windows to catch the Pokémon in the middle of the car, though they have considered buying Rotom Drones expressly for this purpose

Emmet actually has a stack of different studies on weak points in the human body but he doesn't share that with anyone, not even Ingo

Emmet's study of trainer psych has led to him often predicting tactics before they happen and dodging/countering them with his Pokémon. He often challenges himself to predict a person's team, moveset, and strategy based on appearance, gait, and body language, sharing his guesses with Ingo in case he makes any useful observations

Ingo and Emmet are possibly the first instance of causing "learned HCCM" in their Pokémon because after the training that they do together, the Pokémon have developed their own independent bloodlust and have started memorizing the move strategies that the twins have them use

Sometimes to celebrate fully completing a study on a particular set of Pokémon, the twins will eat one. This is mostly as a treat and an inside joke, but they will research what's in season/allowed and go hunt for one. Ingo is usually the one to catch it, and Emmet is the one to cook it. There's some really goofy shitposts about them going after pseudo-legendaries overseas, or Palkia's leg in Hisui

The twins can perform full medical care on any Pokémon and can often grind for hours nonstop since they can heal their teams themselves. They also save a lot on healing items this way

After releasing their diagnosis, the perception of the twins have gone in wildly different directions. Some people treat them as subhuman or as monsters, some people don't care, some people call them psycho yandere boys on twitter. Emmet tends to get more of the negative connotations, Ingo tends to get the more "positive" ones. Emmet also tends to get a lot of stares due to his restraint and status as a crazed fighter, which he pretends doesn't get to him

I think that's everything, I'm going to go collapse. Hope you guys enjoy 👍

[drewsbuzzcut]

Daddy’s Home

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: mentions teething

Sloane was not having it. None of it. She’s been going through some teething recently, plus her daddy has been on a roadie, so she’s just not a happy baby. Understandably so. You’ve tried your hardest to soothe her- FaceTiming Mat at night and in the morning, and holding her every second you could. It’s been a struggle especially with your two hyper sons.

“Mat, she is not doing too hot. She has a fever and she’s crying every 30 minutes. The boys are thankfully sane today, but I just need you here, we need you here,” you sigh into the phone.

If it were up to Mat, you’d be on FaceTime. However, you don’t want him to see how downtrodden and exhausted you are.

“I can book a flight right now. Just say the word. You know what? No, I’m booking the flight. I should be home in 4-ish hours,” Mat states, the sound of him getting up and the ruffling of his clothes reach your ears.

“No. Mat, just stay where you are. I can hold down the fort one more day. You come home tomorrow night anyways. Sorry for calling just to complain. Sloane is asleep for the moment and I just needed to hear your voice for a minute,” you whisper to mask the way your heart twists at the thought of him being gone for a second longer.

“Baby, I can come home. No game is more important than the loves of my life. I love you, pretty girl. You’re doing amazing,” he reassures you and you just about break into sobs.

“I love you. Stay with the team. I can handle one more day. I can’t wait to see you,” you let out a sigh, completely laying down in your bed that’s too big without Mat next to you.

“I miss you. I really want to kiss you and hold you. I miss the kids, too,” Mat tells you and you close your eyes to stop your tears from falling.

“We miss you and love you so much. I’ll give them kisses for you when we hang up.”

“Okay, baby. I’m going to go. Do you need anything before I hang up?”

“No. Have a goodnight. I love you.”

“I love you. Goodnight,” Mat says before hanging up.

You let out a deep exhale of air, clenching your eyes shut because you refuse to cry. You force yourself off the bed, keeping good on your promise of kissing all your babies for Mat. It’s already 9 at night, so they’re tucked in but you give them their kiss and rub your fingers through their soft hair. As for Sloane, you bring her into your arms so you can take her to your bed. Her fever has been up and down, so you just want her close.

About 3 hours later you hear your front door open and close with a faint slam which wakes up Sloane. Now you’re frazzled and a little scared while Sloane’s cry rings in your ears. As you’re about to get up, your bedroom door opens and walks in your husband.

He makes a beeline straight for you, guiding you to stand up so he can bring you into his arms. You hold him tight, breathing in his scent that you missed so much. You can’t help but let out a tear or two.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, pulling away but still holding onto him.

“You’re more important, always. It’s one game anyways. Why is Sloane awake?”

You give him a slight wince and let him know the sound of him coming in is what woke her up. He immediately apologizes, but truth be told, anything would wake up your baby girl right now.

You give him time to shower before you drag him into your bedroom, but he also makes sure to go into the boys’ rooms- simply just to watch them sleep for a little bit.

When he walks back into your room, Sloane is immediately reaching out for him. Her eyes are teary and her lips wrinkle in a little pout similar to all your barzal boys.

“My sweet girl. Daddy is here, my love,” Mat cuddles her into his chest and whispers softly in her ear.

Her little hands clutch onto strands of his hair as she shoves her head in the crook of his neck. She’s content against the warmth of his bare chest. Mat lets out a sigh of relief, he’s happy to be home.

“She’s been having a really hard week. Those teeth coming in are not treating her well. She’s had a fever the last two days, but it hasn’t been anything crazy. She’s more uncomfortable than in pain. She missed daddy,” you say, one hand caressing Sloane while your other cards through your husband’s hair.

“I know you told me to stay, but I’m glad I came home. I missed all of you and I know she’s been extra clingy to me lately. It’s not fair to you,” Mat wraps an arm around your waist, needing his other girl pressed against him.

“It’s not like I don’t know how it is. I know your job is demanding, and we’ve made a pretty solid routine. Remember, life isn’t fair. I am thankful you’re here right now, though,” you peck his lips.

“I love you, baby,” Mat says into your kiss.

“I love you, always.”

“Ow shit!” Mat yelps, eyes bugging out at Sloane who has her mouth attached to his shoulder. Her tiny front tooth coming in nips at her daddy’s skin.

“Welcome to my world. Breastfeeding has been a terror lately,” you snigger behind your hand.

Sloane lets out a little baby giggle and it makes both of you laugh in return.

“Do you like biting daddy? He’s yummy, huh? Bite him some more,” you coo to your baby girl.

“I’ve had enough biting from you, I don’t need anymore from my own daughter,” Mat pouts.

That pout. It always gets to you.

“Do you need me to kiss it better?” You tease, guiding him to your bed.

You want him to pound you into your bed, but because Sloane is cranky without her daddy holding her, you know that won’t be happening.

“Maybe.”

“Come here, my baby,” you get into bed, letting Mat snuggle into you while he still holds Sloane.

She immediately falls asleep and Mat isn’t far behind.

a/n: Enjoy!

[oldstateofmind]

nobody else can heal it (but you) [part l]

➜ pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader ➜ warnings: spoilers from ATSV, a bit of angst cause i’m human, violence, torture, hanahaki disease but make it nightmares instead. english is not my first language. ➜ words: 4.3k ➜ a/n:  I’ve watched this movie 3 times by now because I’m obsessed with Miguel. His character is so interesting and captivating, he’s so grumpy and sad and that just makes me wanna fix him. Ugh, I have a soft spot for anti-heroes. And being voiced by Oscar Isaac is the icing on the cake. This first part sets the tone because I just can’t jump straight to smut, but I promise I’ll compensate next chapter.

chapter l. bad disease

For too long, you've been yearning for Miguel; only to be trapped in an endless nightmare. While awake, you had to live with the fact that he was out of reach – tearing your soul apart. While sleeping, violence and death had his face – tearing your whole being apart. No matter when or where; you were maimed by the same man.

Ao3

l.

It starts with a hiss; then a shadow moving in the corner of your vision.

In the dark, cold envelops your body; chilling to the bone. It’s awfully quiet besides the continuous dripping of water in the distance, the echoes of each drop remind you of a ticking clock; counting the time you’ve left – for what, however, you’re not really sure.

You rub your arms in an attempt to bring a bit of warmth back to your skin, and as always, it’s useless. It seems like a forever winter inside the place you’ve found yourself in for the past 2 weeks. 

What once started as a nightmare that made you wake up in the middle of the night, now plagues your mind every time you close your eyes. There’s no escape from it, no matter how hard you try. You’re more than tired, it’s exhausting not getting more than 3 hours of sleep when your job requires attention and disposition.

Even the pills Lyla gave you last time you were at the HQ didn’t work – actually, they made it even worse. Because then, your body was completely knocked out while your mind was terribly awake, reliving the scene over and over again. You threw them down the drain once you woke up. Never again.

And even though you already know what happens by now, it is still dreadful to wait for the nightmare to unfound. Your senses are hyper-aware of every single tiny sound, every movement in the dark. 

There’s something poetic in the way you can feel him move even with your eyes closed; the way you could recognize the pattern of his breathing in the distance even when fear creeps into your brain. Your spider-sense tingles as his heavy steps are headed toward you, it screams danger. Goosebumps break out across your body, sending a small, cold shiver through your spine. 

Red is the first thing you see. And also the last.

-

“...to Y/N.” Someone is calling you in the distance, but the hazy feeling of the nightmare still lingers within you. It’s hard to focus when your brain still hasn’t turned off properly for weeks, still trapped in whatever curse this is.

“Earth to Y/N, is anyone there?” There’s a snap in front of your eyes, and you suddenly flinch with the unexpected sound. The touch on your shoulder grounds you a bit.

You blink your eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to brush off the dreadful feeling still creeping into the back of your mind. As your eyes adjust to reality, Gwen’s face is filled with concern.

“I’m sorry, guys.” It’s the only thing you manage to say, how could you possibly begin to explain what’s been happening?

“You’ve lost your cue twice now, what’s happening with you today?” The girl presses, still holding onto your shoulder. And for that, you’re grateful. 

Not getting enough sleep has been causing you to lose grip on reality – and that scares you the most. Not being able to tell if the sounds are coming from your head or from somewhere else. Or worse, having to avoid him because it’s unbearable the feeling that eats you from the inside out; the sense of fight or flight kicking in every time you hear his voice. Not tolerating being in his company as shadows follow you around like a ghost, tormenting you into remembering.

And it’s just not fair. 

“Nothing!” You say, adjusting the bass strap on your shoulder. Hesitating on letting you go, Gwen squeezes your arm before retracting her hand. You try to smile, “I’m good. I…I’m good.”

The smile stretched for too long, awkwardly pulling your face into a grin rather than a genuine beam. The avoidance of looking at the member of the band doesn’t really back you up on your lies. You hear Hobie huff in annoyance, while Gwen’s piercing gaze still hasn’t left your face. You feel slightly guilty about keeping your nightmares a secret, but it’s not like they would understand, would they?

After all, Miguel O’Hara was a difficult subject for you to talk about.

“I know that look, I have seen it in the mirror quite a few times,” The girl admits. And you knew it was true.

When Gwen joined the Spider Society just a few months ago, the melancholy gloom that followed her was palpable. The teary eyes whenever someone asked about her life, the avoidance of returning to her world, always crashing at yours or Hobie’s. Her father was a tough subject on which she never really dwelled, too painful to remember.  

However, even if she could relate to the feeling of losing sleep over someone, she wouldn’t understand how it felt to be torn apart by your own brain, to have precious memories distorted in a sick and twisted nightmare that was a culmination of your worst fears. To know it was coming and having no power to stop it. And all the while having the face of the person you cared about the most in the world, in all universes.

No, no one could begin to understand. 

You bit your lips, signing in defeat, “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“That’s rubbish. Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?” Hobie chimes in, crossing his arms over his chest. He raises his eyebrow, seeing through your facade without breaking a sweat.

“You’re not even glowing like you usually do!” Pavitr shouts from the audience, waving his hand toward you. Sometimes he would come by to watch the band practice, but today you had not even seen him coming, which was a terrible sign because Pavitr always made an entrance when he stopped by.

“I thought you would be grateful for that.” You scoff.

“Hey, you can’t blame me! My eyes are sensitive.”

The typical headache starts to pound in your head like a thousand bells ringing directly in your ear. It’s disorientating the way your senses feel out of place – like a fish out of the water. Not even having superpowers was helping you stay afloat. 

You took pride in being a Spider Woman, doing your job as best as you could so that at the end of the day, Miguel would see you. Your talent, your dedication. But lately, you feel yourself falling further down in his list. And it hurts.

“It’s just that–” You sigh, rubbing your eyes again, foolishly trying to make the pain go away. The ache in your head was bad, but the one in your heart could bring you to your knees. “I’m not getting much sleep these last few weeks.”

Gwen snaps her fingers excitedly, “You should try one of those pills they hand over at the–” 

“No!” You shout before you can stop yourself; memories flood your troubled mind. The blood, the screams. Talons ripping flesh, pain consuming your body and soul. But the worst of all; his words. Gwen stops in her tracks, caught off guard by your sudden outburst. The guilty eat you away. 

“I mean, I–I’ve tried it,” You whisper, the lump forming in your throat makes it hard to say a single word, “but they… didn’t work for me.” 

The trembling of your hands caught everyone’s attention. And It’s just too much.

“I’m sorry.” Whispering, you turn around to hide your face. You take the bass strap from your shoulder and place the instrument in its case. “Let’s just wrap this up, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”

“Oi, Y/N,” Hobie calls for you, but you’re already grabbing your coat and heading toward the door. “We are here to help you, it’s what a band is about, innit?” 

You look over your shoulder at them, heart aching at the thought of leaving them with no explanation – as a frightened animal, cornered with nowhere to run, all bite and no apologies.

“Right,” You agree but vanish in thin air seconds later.

ll.

Time becomes its own entity when you lose track of it. It’s another late hour, probably somewhere between 3 AM, and the coffee you got from your favorite spot in town is hot against your cold fingers. You dangle your feet at the edge of a building, admiring the view of a sleepy neighbor – no matter the time, New York is always full of light. 

It’s been a few days since you left the rehearsal in a hurry, the band has been trying to get in touch with you but you’ve been avoiding taking their calls and answering their texts – you’ve been avoiding a lot of things lately. 

Like swinging in the middle of the traffic, as an example. Something that came naturally, but now it has become too dangerous. The notion of space and distance have been lost days ago together with the full awareness of your surroundings. You’ve been trying to do your job, but it has become almost impossible to pay attention to your movements when the heaviness of your limbs begs for you to slow down.

There’s also Lyla, who you've lost count of how many times she chimed in while you were working, telling you about a meeting that you had missed out on. Not that it was totally required to be there, but if once you counted the days to be in the same room as Miguel, just so you could see him, now you avoided it like the plague. 

You haven’t heard from him ever since you disappeared – only stopping by the HQ when extremely necessary – so you might not be in that much trouble. However, it definitely did some heavy damage to your heart noticing how O’Hara didn’t really need or wanted to see you in the first place. Not even a call, not even a message.

And that was devastating. 

For too long, you've been yearning for Miguel; only to be trapped in an endless nightmare. While awake, you had to live with the fact that he was out of reach – tearing your soul apart. While sleeping, violence and death had his face – tearing your whole being apart. No matter when or where; you were maimed by the same man.

Blowing out your coffee, you sigh. The lack of sleep has been taking a toll on you. It started off as simply missing the timing from one building to another, and now you can feel the nasty bruise forming on the side of your hip. Actually, your body now looks like it has been painted black and blue with the number of bruises it’s collecting. 

And you still can’t find the answer, nor any clue on how to make them go away. It will kill you eventually, you’re sure of that. It was just a matter of time now. Maybe then you could finally rest.

The bitter taste of the coffee spreads in your tongue and you welcome the caffeine with open arms. You’ve been trying to stay awake for the most part of the day, only hitting the bed when you’re completely and absolutely worn out. It does give you a few more minutes, but as the sun comes down and another moon appears, you can feel yourself slipping away, getting fewer and fewer hours of sleep, and slowly descending to madness as the nightmares start to feel more vivid, clouding your judgment.

Maybe you should ask for help, after all. 

As a result of a very slow mind, it takes you more than it should to sense a new presence on the rooftop with you. Startled, the hair on the back of your neck stands up. You quickly throw away the coffee, lamenting not being able to finish it. 

You pull your mask down; if it was another one of those villains of the week the guy was fucked because you had run out of patience. “Honestly, I’m in a really bad mood today,” You say to whoever is hiding in the shadows, your senses tingling as the figure slowly walks towards you, “No tricks, please. Let’s do this quickly.” 

The movement stops, and you roll your eyes in annoyance. Another guy who thinks that making a scary little entrance will impress you. You’re about to make a joke when the shadow speaks, making your heart stop for a second.

��Y/N.”

The cold creeps in underneath the flesh, freezing your blood and yourself in place. All the hair in your body stands up as your body tenses with trepidation and fear. There it was again, that voice that haunts you night and day. 

No, please. I’m awake, aren't I?”

It was hard to tell, as your surrounding started to blur; the sound of the street and surroundings go silent, as the only focus of your mind is the man in front of you and the way his eyes glow scarlet against the dark of the night. Your heart hammers your chest so furiously you’re afraid it might break free. 

“Y/N.” 

Miguel calls out for you again, his tone nothing more than a whisper. But you have seen this scene before; a hundred times you’ve heard those same words roll out of his tongue as if it disgusted him – as if you didn’t deserve to be mentioned it.

You flinch as he steps forward, memories of talons ripping your skin apart make you fight against the rising panic; the outcome of the nightmare is inevitable, you’ve tried to change it, but the aftermath was always the same; killed by the man you loved the most.

“Stay away from me,” You warned him. It was useless when fate seemed to have your lines already written, with no chance to change the full stop by a coma. “Please, stay away from me.”

Miguel stops, the glowing of his suit hurts your eyes. You can’t see his expression, there’s a dark shadow covering his face, but the red tint gives his demeanor a haunting feeling – another shiver runs down your spine. Your vision starts to blur; the fine line between reality and dreamland crashes together in your mind. Nothing feels real, the foggy state of mind wraps around you, gradually taking over your sanity.

So you flee. Or at least you try. 

Before you could jump from the building, Miguel’s strong hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you directly in his direction. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and quickly you are able to untangle yourself from his grip, kicking him in the process. 

“Y/N.” You know it’s his voice, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like it. It’s disconnected from the man you’ve grown to love. Dread gnawed at your insides as the nightmare turns into another torture section. His mouth is moving but you can’t make up the words; every sound gets lost in the loud rush of blood in your ears.

Not that you need it, anyway. You’ve been living the same dialogue over and over again to know like the back of your hand.

“Don’t hurt me again,” You plea, raw panic in your voice. Your mind is erratic, coming up with ideas on how to escape, but your body doesn’t follow the same line of thinking, “Please, I’m so tired.”

But it’s all in vain; the man bolts in your direction like an animal ready to devour its prey. You find yourself half mad with terror – your throat tightens as anxiety eclipsed your thoughts. 

Before Miguel can get to you, you attack. 

It never works as the man is way above your abilities, but you try – anything to be freed from having another slow, painful death. Gathering the last of your strength, you shoot a web that miraculously lands on his foot and it sticks to the ground. Quickly, you jump from one wall to another, landing a kick on his chest. 

It doesn’t do anything more than startle the man, but it gives you enough time to soar across the night sky, landing on another rooftop. The glowing of your watch catches your attention. Usually, you don’t have it with you, nightmares don’t really give you the option to flee. 

But it seems this one does. 

“Y/N!” Miguel roars. In the slip second your eyes had darted toward the gadget, the man had torn apart the single web holding him in place. He huffs, shoulders hunched forward as tension grows between you both. 

Against your better judgment, you shot him a glance. And like magnets, his eyes find yours in mi the sea of lights that only New York could offer.

You press the bottom, eyes fixed on the man coming towards you like a bolt. His talons cut the air in front of your eyes – almost like a kiss – the petrifying realization makes you fall on your back towards the portal. 

Then everything turns black.

lll.

When you open your eyes again, you’re absolutely and awfully exhausted. The weight of your body holds you down against the cold floor, almost as if it didn’t belong to you anymore. You had lost ownership after not taking care of it. Your eyelids are heavy, and for a moment you consider just going back to sleep, finally giving in to the sweet taste of relief. 

But then, the warnings in the back of your mind start to go off, and you remember why you can’t. Grunting, you take off your mask and pick yourself up. There was no rest for you, not until you find out what the hell happened. And if it was all in your mind, of if Miguel was there. 

Because that definitely didn’t feel like a dream. The phantom feeling of his fingers wrapped around your wrist still lingered, and the intensity of his gaze still made you shrink. A chill runs down your spine in trepidation. If he was really there were the nightmares just a premonition of the future?

No. Miguel would never do that. 

Even though he didn’t… like you as you liked him, the man didn’t have a single motive to want you dead. Miguel was many things, but mostly he was righteous. Dedicated to his job in an unhealthy, and obsessive way? Yes. However, he still had kindness hidden underneath his scowl, and even though his heart was mostly painted black by the loss of his old life, it still beat for the new ones the Spider Society protected. Besides, he still had some humor in him; a completely dated and cringe type of humor, but there.

And every time it made an appearance, you would find it adorable. A tiny smile appears on your lips. How could you not treasure every moment with him when it was all so rare? 

“Y/N?” Someone calls for you in the distance. You are still picking yourself up from the floor, the sudden movement makes you dizzy, and nauseous. You’re pretty sure you hit your head. 

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” Margo comes into view, she quickly puts one of your arms around her neck and helps you get up. “You look terrible.”

“You should see the other guy,” You try joking around. And even though the blue avatar softly huffs, her expression of concern is serious. You must look worse than you thought. 

Margo helps you get into a chair, gently holding you until you’re comfortable in your seat. “I’m sorry for barging in, I honestly didn’t know where I was going.”

“Where you running from something?” She jokingly asks. She grabs a tablet, reads something on the screen, and goes back to work.

“Yeah,” You groan, running your hand through your hair, “You could say that.”

The room was as quiet as it always was, the only sound coming from the girl who was softly humming a song. Looking around, you notice there was no one around, only the machines as a company. You wondered if Margo ever feel lonely here; the place was big enough to fit a few dozen Spiders, however, it was always deserted. The truth was that no one actually liked to be around villains after they were captured, and sending them home was a dreadful job. Margo was definitely a viable asset to the team. 

You can feel your senses start to relax, the darkroom was a perfect invitation for a well-deserved rest. But with the sleepiness came the loss of concentration, and the last time you let your guard down, you fled from a very real Miguel. 

Small talk would be, then. “So… who’s next?”

Margo picks up her tablet, tapping a few things before showing you a picture. “She calls herself 'Torment'. But you’re probably familiar with her. After all, you and Hobie caught her a few weeks ago.”

Wait. A few weeks ago? That's exactly the time when the nightmares started to occur.

Suddenly, a flashback hits you like a bullet. A purple and blue cloud, the touch of a finger. The laugh.

“Margo, I need to talk to her,” You demand, getting up from your chair as if you had been electrified. The pieces fall into place and make a clear picture. How could you have let this fly over your head? Of course, the nightmares weren’t something normal! It had to be a product of something, or someone. 

“Y/N, I need to send her ho–”

“It’s urgent,” Holding the girl’s hand in yours, you squeeze them in a silent plea, “Please, Margo. Just give me 5 minutes.”

Margo presses her lips together; you must look desperate because she sighs, defeated. Then nods, “Make it quick.” 

“Thank you.” 

-

The Send Home Machine had come out of its cocoon, and now sat atop a circular base; waiting for the command to start the process of pulling the strings to weave the portal back home. You always thought the whole mechanism was a bit too much, but if it worked, then who were you to complain?

Margo brings Torment in, and she immediately recognizes you. 

“Oh, I knew I would see you again!” The woman’s face lights up like a Christmas tree – that couldn't be a good sign. She claps her hands, bouncing on her feet. “Looking for answers, darling?”

A cold shiver runs down your spine, but it’s not fear that spreads through your veins. It’s anger. “What did you do to me?”

The woman laughs, throwing her head back. You can clearly see she was having too much fun with you. “Now you’re interested in what I’ve to say? You didn’t seem that excited when I first came to you and your little friend.”

Your blood boils. If she wasn’t already locked up and ready to be sent home, you would definitely teach her a lesson or two. Your knuckles go white as the woman stares, the smile on her face is disturbing. How could she find pleasure in tormenting someone like that?

The sound of the engine turning startles you, Margo sends you an apologetic look as the machine descends from its place atop the base. You’re getting out of time.

“What do you want?” You shout, desperate. You can’t imagine going another week, another day haunted like this. “Tell me!”

Torment’s stare is piercing, a shadow crosses her face when the smile fades into a thin line. The silence was agonizing, and with each tread of the web, you felt your sanity slipping away. This was your last chance.

“I’m so fucking tired!” You cry out, hitting the glass so hard it almost cracks. “Do you know how it feels to not get a single hour of sleep because your nightmares are too fucking real? Do you have a single idea of how torturing it is to have him, of all people–” Margo was listening, but you didn’t care. You wanted answers and you would get them. “Why him?”

“Poor little thing. You haven’t figured it out yet?” she hums, furrowing her eyebrows. And you hate the look of pity she has on her face. It was her that did this in the first place! “That must be tough, to keep all of that to yourself.”

No one knew about your feelings for Miguel. Well, you had a slight hunch that maybe Peter B. Parker might have noticed it. But otherwise, you kept all to yourself. Treasuring little moments as precious jewelry.

He was your boss! And besides, he was still too caught up in his late family. He would never open his heart again after the tragedy bestowed upon him. You couldn't blame him; a man forever stuck in the past, reliving each moment when he was happy.

However, sometimes, you would catch him looking. Exchange glances in a crowded room; during meetings. You would spend time with him alone; in a comfortable silence hard to find, or in an easy-going atmosphere that left you smiling like an idiot. 

But that was what they were, fleeting moments. And even though sometimes you dreamed about a future where you could give him all the love he deserved, they were just that; silly dreams. There was no space for you in his life. You had accepted that long ago.

“You see, my abilities are a gift,” Torment simply says, still unphased at your suffering. “They search deep in your soul for what you seek the most. The nightmares are just an incentive to make you finally take the big step.”

“What?” A memory comes to the forefront of your mind; a finger touching your forehead, the slight shock that sent you back a few steps. Miguel’s face appears right after the electric feeling dissipates. “What do you mean?”

“You know very well,” There’s some sort of twisted kindness when her smile appears again, it irks you profoundly, “Take care, darling. You can thank me later.”

The machine finishes threading the web, encapsulating the woman inside a honey-colored web. The last thing you see is her waving at you before disappearing into nothing.

Outraged, you punch the glass again, and again. No, no, no. This can’t be happening! That woman must be lying, there’s no way the cure to this torment is–

“Calm down, Y/N!” Margo holds your wrist before you can land another hit. She’s saying something but you can’t hear it. Anxiety takes over your body as you crouch on the floor, hiding your face in your arms. 

You will have to tell Miguel. 

And that was worse than any other nightmare. 

[emotionaldashtoons]

Fanfiction Disear Scenes in Inside Out 2 💜💚💜💚

(WARNING!: CONTAINS SPOILERS! Exit if you want or you can enjoy the fan dialouge I have created. Also... imagine these scenes with Bill and Mindy's voices into this).

Disear Scene 1

*Emotions still wandering around to find the Stream of Consciousness*

Joy: We only have a few hours until Riley falls asleep again. But we have to find the Stream of Consciousness.

Anger: Well we have to or Anxiety will get it!

*Fear looks at Disgust to start asking questions to her*

Disgust: You got that right Anger..

Fear: Well I don't usually get it.

Disgust: You don't get that Anxiety had better ideas than you.

Fear: No.. it's just that.. well. You know what! It's stupid.

Disgust: What's stupid?

Fear: Me thinking how much attention you get.

*Disgust's eyes widens open*

Fear: Envy liking your hair and the crush you have on Lance Slashblade. It makes me think that... Man! I wish I could be that kind of guy for you. I mean you with me! No! I mean!

Disgust: What do you mean "That kind of guy?"

*Awkward pause hits, Fear clicks in*

Fear: Darn it! Let's just try to continue finding The Stream of Consciousness before Riley heads to sleep. It just seems that Anxiety is making Riley all hyper-active.

Joy: That's right Fear! Right after you're awkward fearful mannerisms. If Riley's hyper-active, don't you think the mind should be having a...!

*Suddenly Riley's mind shakes starting a litte headache, almost like an earthquake. Fear gets horrified and jumps onto Disgust's arms. They look at each other awkwardly, Fear chuckles but Disgust drops him with a disgusted look*

Joy: ....Headache. Let's get moving.

~~~•~~~

Scene 2

*After Joy's delusional freakout, Joy cries and Anger tries to show Joy how to find positivity*

Anger: Joy... you made a few mistakes. Like a lot.. and you'll make a whole lot more in the future. And if you let that stop you, we might as well lay down and give up now. But that's not happening to us, even for our Riley.

*Disgust and Fear are watching Anger comforting Joy as they both realize they've been jerks as well*

Fear: I always never thought having a mind-filled adventure that would lead so much into anxiousness.

Disgust: And I thought I was the only one complaining.

Fear: We feel so... useless!

*Fear kicks a memory, and it rolls to the way on where we see the forgetters. Somehow Fear has an idea*

Fear: Guys! I may be too scared..... but I have an idea.

*He looks at the forgetters and starts insulting them*

Fear: Excuse me! Sir! Mam! Is it just me or is your big fat teeny tiny body ain't working for those big fat heads of yours distracting Riley in life?

Forgetter Paula: Why you!

Forgetter Bobby: You're gonna regret that!

Fear: Yeah, but I just have one more thing to say... is this yours?

*Somehow Fear snuck in their taser and the forgetters let go of the chute and Anger pushes Forgetter Bobby*

Fear: Hop on guys! This might be unsafe, but it's worth it!

*Joy smiles as the four emotions start blasting away up top, as they land safely. Fear catches Disgust*

Fear: OH! Pardon me, Disgust.

Disgust: It's alright... you were alright.

*Fear and Disgust look at each other for a few seconds until Joy cuts them off from their adorkable staring*

Joy: Come on guys, we got a kid to save!

~~~•~~~

Scene 3

*The brainstorm is happening because of Anxiety trying to find a big idea while Joy is wacking any single light bulb she could, Anger insists they have to catch a lightbulb, Disgust tries to but before she falls, screaming for life, Fear catches her once again, they locked eyes on each other*

Disgust: I'm scared!

Fear: I'm scared too! But don't be... I got your back!

Anger: I hate to be Mr. and Mrs. Disear here but the ideas are too small!

*After Anxiety tries to get the most biggest idea ever, the emotions fall as Fear officially catches all of his emotional friends with a parachute*

Joy: You have a parachute!?

Fear: Yes! The real question is... why don't any of you?

*As they land safely they get out of under the parachute, Joy and Anger are cheering with success, as Disgust looks at Fear*

Fear: It's... something that Lance Slashblade couldn't usually do. I mean I didn't mean literally, you like him more than me! I mean that's because we're both protective for Riley and us! I mean-!

*Disgust shushes Fear up by covering his lips with her hand, she smiles*

Disgust: You're my hero.

Fear: *Laughs nervously and blushes* Well, we do have something in common.

Disgust: Like what?

Fear: We keep Riley safe from dangerous potential poisonous disasters.

Joy: Awwwww...

Anger: This is too much sweetness for me! We got a Sense of Self to find!

Joy: Let's go! You're mine, Anxiety!

~~~•~~~

Final Scene

*After fixing the Sense of Self and preventing Riley's panic attack, all nine emotions are getting along with each other as Riley has new friends as her old friends had switch schools. Anxiety gets a little too anxious as Joy comforts her by giving her own lucky chair to relax while drinking a cup of tea. Sadness is impressed by Anger's new buddy, Pouchy (right after the memory avalanche scene), as Ennui lets Anxiety play games on her phone, Embarrassment finally speaks with glee, and we cut to our fanmade Fear and Disgust scene we are getting to)

Fear: Okay. Tell me a secret you haven't told me.

Disgust: I was never fully in love with Lance Slashblde.

Fear: Wait! I thought you-!

Disgust: You guys did! But... I'm more of a fan girl from him, he isn't usually my type.

Fear: Really. *chuckles*

Disgust: I'm usually more into a guy that would... protect me and Riley from potential dangerous yet poisonous disasters.

*Fear and Disgust look at each other with wide looks like she meant it for real, then they laugh for a moment as Envy sneaks up behind them and makes them kiss each other, they are blushingly shocked after what Envy did. But Fear and Disgust smile at each other as they let it slide, as Envy jumps onto Fear and Disgust*

Envy: I want the piece of that action!

~~~•~~~

Well, what do you think guys, did I try hard enough to entertain you with the fanfic or was it too personal for me of wanting more from the sequel. Because I try giving the idea of Fear loving Disgust as the other characters can be aware of it as mostly a silly yet adorkable subplot. If you like it, good for you. If you didn't read this, make sure to go see the sequel yourself, because this dialouge I created, won't be in the movie. Let me know in down below in the comments.

[jamespottersdaisy]

We could slow dance to rock music, kiss while we do it.

Sirius Black x fem!reader.

"All you have to do is to make the first move, and I'll take care of the rest," he said and smirked.

“Fuck you,” you breathed before pulling him in by the collar.

warnings - drinking, mentions and allusions to sex, no explicit description but still it's pretty obvious that i'm talking about sex so i don't want minors around, fwb?

6.2k

author's note - i like this, but also don't. english is not my first language so beware <3

Your eyebrows were creased, straining the muscles around your temples. You would feel the slowly-forming headache if you weren’t too deep in thought, glaring at the parchment before you.

Stars, lines, moon, and a blank space. A blank space which you should fill. 

It wasn’t supposed to be that hard, not if you already had an O.W.L degree, yet somehow your nerves were tense, and you could feel your angry breath against your lips. You were aware of your heartbeat and your shirt's fabric on your skin.

Maybe you should’ve just gone to sleep. It would be nice to lie on the soft bed, and bury yourself under the heavy blanket. Slowly relaxing to the warmth, closing your eyes and dreaming…

No. You had a star chart to finish. 

Thus, you groaned and started abusing your poorly-overworked brain once more.

You drew and erased and drew again. You took a break to rest your fingers, messaged your temple, and you drew once more. You even measured the distance between two stars before drawing yet again. 

You were almost finished when a chortle echoed from the stairs. 

It sounded closer and closer with every second, yet it wasn’t accompanied by anything. Whoever the person that was wandering around at…

You checked the clock.

Three in the morning. 

Whoever was wandering around at three in the morning, he was alone. What was he laughing at then?

You didn’t need to wonder more as your head snapped at the stairs instinctively when you felt his shadow. 

“Black?” 

Sirius was staggering down the stairs with a big grin on his face. He frowned a bit when he found your frame crunched up behind a table.

“Why are you up?” he asked, and you could barely comprehend the words. 

“Studying,” you said, “Why are you up?”

He shrugged and tripped over, supporting himself from the walls. Another chuckle left his lips. 

You tried not to laugh at his state.

“Are you drunk?”

He offered you a belittling look, which you were sure emerged because of the intoxication.

“No. Do I seem drunk?”

His long raven hair was loose, tousled around his face. His eyes were glassy, and a hazy grin was embracing his lips. You tried not to stare at his jawline.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I am not drunk, so,” Sirius threw himself at the sofa and winced when his head hit its arm. “Perhaps a bit tipsy.”

“How did you even manage to sneak alcohol in?”

You were sure they didn’t leave alcohol lying around in the castle, and nor did they serve it during dinner. Your question seemed to only amuse him more.

“Ask no questions, hear no lies,” he drawled, turning his head at you. “What are you studying?”

His outstretched hand pointed to the parchment before you, and you shrugged. 

“Star chart.”

“Did you find me?” 

You smiled and arched a brow at him. Little did he know he was the only thing you could think about when you were looking at the star named ‘Sirius’.

“You’re the brightest, how could I not?”

He hummed and stared at the ceiling. You turned back at the paper before you and tried to focus. 

Sirius’s presence didn’t render focusing any easy. You were hyper-aware of anything he did and everything you did. You could feel him cast spells with his wand, fetching a chess piece or flying a bar of chocolate around. You could feel your leg bouncing up and down and the urge to stare at him nagging you.

It wasn’t your fault that Sirius Black was beautiful. 

Jet black hair cascaded to his shoulders, tired grey eyes cutting into your soul like a knife. His sharp bone structure only complimented more to his mischievous grin. The way he carried himself around in the hallways would ensnare your breath, and the wry smile his lips crafted would glisten your stomach.

Sometimes you would find yourself observing the way he carried out idlest tasks, and you would feel drawn to the way his long fingers played with a pen or the way he slicked his hair back from his face. Occasionally, he would catch you staring, and his lips would curl into a sly grin.

You might not fancy him or bear feelings for him, but you definitely found him attractive.

“When do you think you’ll be done?”

You flinched at his dulcet tone, averting your head at his slouched stature. His eyes were still on the ceiling.

“In a few minutes, why?”

“I’m bored,” he finally glanced at you. “I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour.”

“It’s been roughly twenty-five minutes since you’ve come down,” you said, swallowing the words for ‘Why are you waiting for me?’

“Same thing,” he shrugged and called you again. “Be quick, come on.”

You didn’t remember what you scribbled down on the paper, but you were sure they were all wrong. You merely got it over with to walk up and sit next to him. 

Sirius sat up, offering you space on the sofa. You placed yourself a bit away from him and stared at his face. He stared back at you. You didn’t blink away. Neither did he.

Finally, you got bored.

“You said you were waiting for me–”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You made a confused sound at him. What was with intoxicated Sirius? Sober Sirius wouldn’t ask this to you.

“You were waiting for me to ask this?”

“No, I just forgot what I was gonna say,” he nodded several times, eyelids getting heavy. “So, I thought I wouldn’t keep you waiting.”

“You’re a bit tipsy, and you've already started forgetting what you were gonna say?”

“Why are you asking the facts as questions? It’s the second time you’ve done that tonight.”

You were looking more bemused than before now. Sirius must’ve seen it that he started laughing. You didn’t comprehend what was going on in his head. 

“You don’t even notice doing it, do you?”

“Sirius, you sure you alright? You haven’t smacked your head on a wall or something?”

He looked around thoughtfully.

“Remus did smack his book to my head an hour ago.”

“You should go to bed,” you got up, offering him your hand. “You’re talking gibberish.”

“I’m good,” he shook his head, grinning up at you while sinking deeper into the sofa. “We have just started talking.”

“Well, I want to sleep,” you grabbed his hand and dragged him. “Get your arse up.”

He was heavier than he looked; you were having a hard time dragging him up on his feet. You were having a hard time getting yourself up on your feet, too, when he pulled you into his lap by your intertwined hands. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed, feeling Sirius’s fingers on your back. You were awfully conscious of his touch and your placement on his lap. 

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Sirius,” you grit your teeth, trying to raise yourself. He clicked his tongue when you squirmed, giving you a disapproving look. 

“Don’t move too much,” he said, and you felt his grip on your back tightening. 

You wanted to get up but didn’t want to feel another…friction. 

“What question?” you asked to sway the topic and the attention to something else. Something else that wouldn’t heat up your core or wouldn’t sweat your palms. You didn’t even remember the question.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you blurted out and pushed yourself up. Sirius bit down his lip when you did, and you chose to ignore the rasping sound from his throat. You were sure you were sweating.

“Good night, Black.”

You turned your heels and almost sprinted to the stairs for the girl's dorm, but a resonant tone grasped your attention.

“Wait, you’re not gonna help me?”

You groaned and halted your steps, ready to strangle him. He had a feigned smile on his lips when you turned away, and for a moment, you were eager to leave him there to his own devices. 

“You didn’t accept my help when I offered it in the first place.”

“Offer again, come on,” he dragged out the words, signalling that he was indeed too inebriated to handle himself. 

Thus, you sighed and strode back, hauling him from his arm. He shifted his weight to you, and you were sure he did it on purpose. 

“I’m not carrying you, Sirius, just helping you out,” you reminded him, but to no avail. He simply glanced at you with hollow eyes and back at the stairs of the boy's dorm.

The smell of his cologne enticed you, but you managed to bury the butterflies back into their graves. You attempted to drown the screeches in your mind’s walls that echoed, nudging you to heed the proximity between your bodies. His warm breath hitting your cheek didn’t lend a hand to your endeavours of putting a leash on your racing thoughts.  

You headed to the stairs, ambling because of Sirius’s weight. Once you approached them, you groaned, earning a chuckle from the boy. 

“Help me out here, I can’t carry you all by myself,” the moment the words left your lips, you felt him pull a part of his heft and lift a step. 

You were grateful, but it lasted a second. You felt burned on top of your body as you two climbed the stairs– well, mostly, you climbed both of you. 

With every step, you felt your muscles tense up, and your breath deepened. When you diverted your eyes to Sirius, the same warm breath caressed your lips. He was watching you this whole time, listening to the voices you were making. 

His Adam's apple moved up and down when your eyes fell to his lips, and your breath hitched when his hand on your shoulder touched your hair. 

You had to remind yourself that he was drunk. No matter how much his touch ignited your skin or how much his darkened eyes burned deep in your core with desire, he was drunk. He wouldn’t even remember what was happening at that very moment.

What was happening, again?

Oh, nothing. Sirius had simply leaned in and left only an inch between your lips. You simply exhaled deeply into his lips, giving away how much he was affecting you.

Only a bit more, and your lips would touch, your body would flame up, and your heart would burst with lust.

He was drunk. 

You inhaled and stepped back. You didn’t look back at him, not until you arrived at your destination. You were expecting that you would have to carry him inside the room, too, but Sirius pushed himself off you and stood on his legs. 

“Cheers, love,” he said playfully, his eyes still lost in somewhere between sobriety and drunkenness. You watched him step back, put his hand to the door handle, and open it with a scowl.

“You could walk?! Why did you make me carry you?!”

He simply grinned before closing the door.

You were agitated for the next two days. Mainly because lessons were hopping on your nerves and because Sirius hadn’t acknowledged that night. The possibility that he had forgotten things was taunting you.

You wouldn’t mind it if you two weren’t almost about to kiss. Neither had you paid attention to him much before nor had he to you. It wouldn’t be much of a fuss for your mind if it were before. But it wasn’t. 

It wasn’t simply before, and you were starting to notice too many little things about him.

He would huff at the strand of hair before his eyes when cutting an ingredient. He would poke out the tip of this tongue between his lips when he was too focused on something. He had a mole right under his right eye, but it was too tiny to take notice.

All these new details would fumble your concentration.

Thus, when you two were partnered up in Potion’s class, you were frowning most of the time. The other part of the time, you were confused about what to do next for the damned potion. 

“Did you add the sloth brain?” you asked Sirius, much to your dismay. 

“No, stir twice clockwise first,” he readied the sloth brain, waiting for you to stir the pot.

You obliged, aware of Sirius’s hovering frame next to you. God, he smelled divine. It made you mad. 

He added the last ingredient before taking the spoon from you. Chills ran down your back when he brushed his fingers to yours, and you swore at yourself for acting and feeling like a thirteen-year-old. You despised the way your heart took pace when he sneaked closer to you, and your body refused to step away from him. Thus, you pushed him with your hip.

"Move away.”

“Don’t be bitter, I’m helping you out.”

“I am perfectly capable of making the potion.”

You weren’t. Your mind was so lost that Sirius had to intervene four times during the lesson.

“Capable, my arse,” he hits you with his upper arm, showing you slightly back to regain his previous place. “Did you make this many mistakes on your star chart, too?”

That was when your body froze for a second. 

He hadn’t forgotten, it seemed. You tried not to divulge any out-of-ordinary emotions. 

“My star chart was perfect until you came down and interrupted.”

Sirius shrugged, and you noticed that he also curled his lips downward. You glanced at his hands clutching the ladle and involuntarily gazed at the way he stirred the pot.

“It’s not my fault that I’m distractingly beautiful.”

He was distractingly beautiful. At least for you, he was beautiful enough to delve into your mind and ruffle all your thoughts.

“You were simply distractingly annoying,” 

Sirius smirked at you, his eyes narrowing vaguely. 

“You didn’t seem annoyed when you were on my lap.”

You felt the heat attract your skin, sweat threatening to emerge if you kept visualising how his hands felt on your back. You weren’t going to let him discern this, however.

“Need I remind you who pulled me there in the first place?”

“Nah, I did,” he took your hand and placed it on the ladle. “Do I need to teach you how to stir, or can you do that yourself?”

“You got tired already?” you mocked him, stirring the potion. As every normal person would, you expected him to deny or mock you back.

“Indeed,” he said instead.  

In the next moments, he would lean on the desk and watch you stir, and you would try your best not to ask him the question that was eating you alive. 

He would stare at your eyes blink while you watched every ingredient dissolve into the liquid just to avoid Sirius’s impact on you. He would observe every muscle twitching on your face while you were wincing at the screaming voices from the next desk. He would admire your smile while Professor Slughorn said, ‘Good job, kid’ to you.

If only you stopped fighting shy of his presence and heeded, you would notice that his eyes never left you for even a moment.

In the next few weeks, you would engage with Sirius more than any time of the year you had been in this school. 

He would come and sit next to you, bothering you while you were reading something. When you shooed him away, he would simply promise to stay quiet and listen to you read. 

‘I will be as silent as the grave.’

At some point, you would stutter, and he would ignore it. 

He would tease you at every opportunity and grin when you would get mad at him.

‘Stop eating my bloody muffins, Black!’

He would repeat the same thing only to adore the scowl on your face and the wrinkle between your brows, but you would be too irritated to notice it.

He would keep you company at your night studies but mask it as ‘not being able to sleep’. 

‘Remus snores too loud.’

You would be too tense to perceive his covetous gaze. 

You wouldn’t understand his sudden interest in you, but you secretly cherished this new friendship.

You would feel tingles when he drew stars on your arm during the lessons. You wouldn’t be able to hide your smile when he would ask you to polish his nails black. Your heart would flutter when he sat beside you and listened to you read. 

However, there was also something else lingering between the two bodies. A tension that would tense you, fluster your mind, and frazzle your skin with a yearning for his touch.

You would feel it when his breath hit your cheek, his finger brushed your hand, his thigh stroked yours. You would feel it when he whispered at night, hummed at your jeering words, and grinned at your tinted face.

You would feel it when he found you at midnight on Astronomy Tower, too.

You didn’t know how, but he would magically appear and cross your way; your encounters had tripled recently. Especially when you were alone.

At least once a week, you two would stumble upon each other in the Tower and the plain ‘hey’s would turn into deep late-night talks. Sometimes you would tell him how you had the worst day in your life, and he would briefly mention his family. 

You were slowly becoming friends. 

Yet, a feeling had been clawing your skin every moment he was close, exhorting you to touch his arm, his hand, his leg. A small gesture to the eye, but your heart would clench with a yen for more each time.

The exact feeling was now nagging you as Sirius was talking about his dream tattoo.

“A constellation?”

“How else would people know what star it is?”

He wasn’t exactly wrong. A simple star wouldn’t indicate the name, and he was determined to have Sirius tattooed. It was rather a silly conversation for one in the morning at Astronomy Tower, but recently you had grown to enjoy his voice.

“Where do you want it?” you asked, and he smirked.

You watched Sirius get up from the wall you’ve been leaning on and pull his shirt up. You expected him to point somewhere around his navel, but instead, he clasped the shirt between his teeth and placed his hand on his black pants.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit panicked, but your eyes betrayed you by peeking at his abdomen.

“Not taking my pants off, calm down,” he grinned and pulled the right part of his pants slightly down. You could swear you felt your breath get heavier when his right hip came to view. Everything from the sharp outline of his bone to the thin hair on his skin was boiling something in you, threatening to spill any moment.

“You could've just said to my hip,” you averted your eyes at his face with force. 

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t see that look on your face,” he said, pushing his clothes back to their rightful places. You feigned a frown when he sat back next to you, your arms touching. 

“What look?”

“The one you make whenever I’m too close to you.”

You could feel the embarrassment climbing into your core and the need to lick your lips itching your nerves. 

“I don’t make any looks,” you managed to voice, trying to cover your chagrin with insouciance. 

Sirius scoffed and leaned in, almost daring you to prove him wrong. And you tried. You tried so hard not to hold your breath, not to pinch your thigh, and not to gulp the apprehension away.

He grabbed your chin when you failed. 

You kept your eyes on his grey ones, albeit his hot breath begged you to shut them. You wondered if Sirius could hear your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Sure you don’t,” he whispered, and you hated him for it.

Anticipation was hurting you, burning your heart with desire. You were irked that he wasn't doing anything. Teasing you, pushing you to the edge of the cliff, but never letting you see the view. You despised that you were at his mercy. 

He pulled away when you leaned in, chuckled at your eagerness. You were about to stop this madness and leave the Tower if it weren't for his hand on your waist that pulled your body close to his.

He was playing with you, testing your limits and self-control, which you clearly lacked. Or else you wouldn't arch your back at his touch and part your lips.

His hands roamed every inch of your body, but lips never touched yours. He let you place your hand on his collar but not on his face to crash your lips to his. You let his hands caress the bare skin of your arms, needing them closer to your heart, but he didn't give you what you wanted.

Your patience was hanging from a thread, ready to snap in a second. You could feel the frustration building up, slave to one mockery to burst into flames. Irritation and anticipation blended together, their colours turning your stomach upside down.

One more smirk from him, and you would snap.

"All you have to do is to make the first move, and I'll take care of the rest," he said and smirked.

So you snapped.

“Fuck you,” you breathed before pulling him in by the collar.

You weren't soft, he wasn't gentle, and the kiss wasn't tender.

It was hungry, zealous, and rapacious.

His lips fought with yours, intoxicating your every sense. Your nails marked his neck, earning rattled breaths that urged you for more. His hands claimed your skin, igniting every inch with lust.

You tugged on his hair when he bit down on your lip, and he pressed his fingers harder on your skin when you slipped your tongue inside.

Your breath mingled with his, and your lips parted only briefly when he pulled you to his lap.

The next second, he was pulling you in, hands on either side of your face. You pushed his hair away from his face, moaning to his lips.

His hands found their way under your clothes, making you arch at the cold of his fingers. Your lips were swollen and red at his point, as well as his. 

Yet, he didn't stop. Not until you were both unable to breathe anymore.

When he did stop, your lips missed his lips. You let your lungs take the air they needed while your eyes stared deep into his darkened ones.

Both of you were gasping for air, chests moving up and down in sync.

What would happen next stretched to dozens of moments, hundreds of thoughts and thousands of doubts.

You could stop right here and there. You could pause and talk about it or even not talk about it ever again. You could stay in the dark, refusing to learn what it would be like to feel him, to hear him, to taste him. Or…

All you had to do was to make the first move.

You chose the latter.

Great changes were made to your life since that night.

For example, you had learned how to sneak into the boy's room. You were now passing the Requirements Room more often, and your lips would be somehow swollen every time you were late to class.

It was exciting, the feeling that you could anytime feel a hand on your arm pulling you close, but it was also incredibly messy. You were skipping classes, meals, and even small chats with your friends.

You didn't regret it, though.

His quiet moans against your skin, your nail marks on his back, and the hot breaths lingering between the two bodies were all you needed to recall to abide.

It didn't have a name. 

You two were clinging to each other as hard as you could, your lips were begging for more even though there was nothing more to take, and the loving words were being spoken in the heat of a moment. But it didn't have a name.

You never bothered to think about it.

“I’m not sure they will fall for that,” you mumbled drowsily as Sirius was playing with your hair. A little bit more, and you would doze off on his bare chest.

“They will, they’re astonishingly stupid,” he said, and you frowned at how he didn’t trouble himself to keep his voice down. It was the middle of the night, and you were sure the other three boys were asleep–or trying to fall asleep– as you two talked.

“They’re smart enough to guess why you’re inviting them to a Gryffindor party,”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, and you felt your head move. “But we’re inviting all the Slytherins, and they’re proud enough to show up.”

“You still won’t tell me what’s the prank?”

He laughed, and you winced at the loud tone. 

“You just have fun, leave that part to us–” 

“Some of us are trying to sleep, Pads!” James exclaimed, and you stifled a chuckle. Sirius had mentioned that he woke up early every morning.

“It’s only midnight,” he called back, and you squeezed your lips together when another calm but firm voice was heard.

“Sirius, be quiet.”

“Be quiet yourself, Remus!”

But as time passed, you found yourself questioning things, trying to put on a label desperately so you could comprehend. So you could understand why he kissed your lips and called you his friend to others, why he put distance between you in public but got frustrated when he couldn’t feel your skin on his in private, and why he didn’t even touch you in mornings but marked you at nights.

You often found yourself gazing at the way his hair stuck to his temple or the way his fingers stroked the bruises on your hips.

“You’re staring,” he said between rapid breaths as he threw himself beside you. You laughed, drawing a deep breath in. 

You didn’t know how to ask this with the least damage, but you also knew if you let this…situation go on, it would only harm you.

“I have to ask you something.”

“Did I add glue to Pete’s shampoo? Yeah, I did.”

You rolled your eyes at him before giving him a disapproving look. Sirius merely grinned and nodded. 

“Kidding. Ask away.”

Here goes nothing

“I want to know,” you dig your nails into your palm. “what…this is.”

You were sure you didn’t choose the right words, but how else were supposed to ask it without sounding cheesy? When you peeked at Sirius, he looked frowning, eyes blinking fast enough to let you know his mind was blank. 

“What is what?”

“This,” you repeated, this time with more determination. You swung your pointer finger between the distance. “Us. What we are doing.”

“I–” he stopped, staring at you. You felt like his gaze was accusing you of relying on him for all the answers. “You can end it if that’s what you want.”

Your face fell in annoyance. How was that any relevant to what you asked?

“That’s not what I said.”

“I don’t understand what you said then.”

You sat up and started putting your clothes on, your brows furrowed. Sirius watched you propped up on his elbows. You tried not to peek at his hair.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I am not going anywhere until you answer my question,” you tugged your shirt and faced him. “I asked what are we?”

You cringed internally for voicing the words and cursed Sirius for making you. But it had to be done; you weren’t going to be one of those people who would fall in love with the ideas in their heads. You had to know what you meant for him.

Sirius was biting his lips, picking the skin off. You arched a brow at him, still waiting.

“Friends?”

“Friends don’t moan each other’s names.”

Sirius groaned, sitting up. His eyes never left yours, his lips parting and closing in a search for the right words. Oh, how you wanted to dive into his mind and see the mess.

“I don’t know. What do you expect me to say? I’m in this as much as you are.”

He wasn’t wrong. You two never talked about this, but you should’ve. Because right now, your unspoken words were getting in the way. 

You looked at his conflicted face, loving the gleam of emotion you didn’t understand but hating the cross ambience you were too familiar with in his eyes. You were a stranger to your feelings for him; you didn’t know what you wanted, not yet, at least. But whatever it was, being away from him wasn’t the one.

Minutes had passed, and you were still silent. It hindered him and hampered the space between you. Somehow, the arm’s distance felt like miles for you. 

Sirius cleared his throat. 

“Do you– are you asking this because you want to see others, but you feel like you owe me something?”

Your eyes widened with surprise, words building up on the tip of your tongue. So many thoughts and words were waiting to be said, and you felt like you didn’t have enough time for them.

“No–”

“Because you can.”

“What?”

“See others. You can do that if you wish.”

You were staring at him with a glower. He was fine with you seeing someone else. Did this mean he felt nothing of importance for you? Did this mean you should also be fine with him seeing someone else? Well, you weren’t.

“I don’t want to see others,” you said, albeit you were sure something ruder would come out of your mouth. “So this is purely physical? Just sex?”

He stood still for a moment, denying you any answer. You knew he was thinking. You could see it from his eyebrows, hands, and eyes that moved around. You just didn’t know what he was thinking.

You also knew it was way too late for you when you felt a sting in your heart as he spoke.

“Yes. Just sex.”

Nothing changed, and yet you felt like everything had changed.

It was still the same tender touches, soft words, and zealous kisses. It was still the same tingle in your stomach when he would call you pretty while you whimpered with pleasure. It was still the same fire on your skin when his lips would caress every inch. It was still the same peace when he would hold you close afterwards.

However, the sleepless nights, warm tears and red eyes were new. The agony in your soul when he would simply nod at you in the mornings was new. The storm in your heart when he would leave you alone in empty rooms was new. The war in your mind when he fell asleep on your lap was new.

You hated every moment of it.

You started to see him with other girls more, too. Maybe you simply had started to pay attention, but it bothered you. It boiled your blood, tensed your muscles and twisted your tongue.

You wanted to show him it was more for you, but you didn’t know how. Of course, you could simply go up to him and confess your feelings. But where’s the fun in that? You were determined to get a confession from him.

That’s why you repeated everything he did that wounded you. 

He simply said ‘hey’ at you in the common room? You didn’t acknowledge him.

He said one of you should leave first so that you don’t attract attention? You were already out of the room.

He was about to swallow a girl whole? You didn’t do that yet. It felt beneath you to betray your feelings like that.

But you did watch him with a drink in your hand, music blasting in your ears and blazing eyes. His hand rested on the girl's back, a smug grin flashing as he lowered his head at her to hear her. You could feel every drop of poison travelling in your veins when he touched her, thorns of jealousy bleeding you. 

What a party.

At some point, you even contemplated returning to your room but decided to not let him ruin your night. Thus, you found your friends, and to your luck, they had enough energy to let you loose.

They made you sway your hips to the rhythm, jump in your place, and scream the lyrics from the top of your lungs. You were even drunk enough to feel dizzy, or maybe that was just too much jumping around.

You closed your eyes for a moment to take a break, laughing at yourself. You knew you shouldn't do it, but your hands poured another drink, ready to gulp it down.

“What are you doing alone?” a familiar voice called your attention. The raven black-hair was enough to let you know who it was.

You hated his attire. Black leather jacket on his bare chest with the same coloured pants. You hated his rings. Wrapping around his fingers too elegantly, forcing you to peek. You hated the black nails that you painted and the eyeliner you drew.

“Drinking.”

Sirius nodded and maybe even hummed, but the rock music was too loud to hear. You felt him take your hand and slowly pull you.

“Come dance with me,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist. You hated the butterflies too.

“I don’t want to jump around, my head hurts.”

“Then we’ll slow dance. Come now.”

"To rock music?"

"Sure," he rested your hands on his shoulders, embracing you with his and pushing your bodies together.

"This is ridiculous," you breathed to his lips. Music and your movements didn't align. It made you feel out of place.

"How is your night so far?" he ignored you, and you heard the sarcasm in his question. Would it be bad if you punched him in the eye? But again, you loved his grey eyes. 

"Wonderful."

"Mine is too."

You rolled your eyes. He brought his hands to your hips. You could feel the odd looks from the people around. Who danced like this to rock music?

"Yeah, I saw."

He smirked, and you stepped on his foot.

"Saw what?"

"The wonderful in your night," you snarled, and his eyes caught yours escaping to the direction of the girl Sirius was with moments ago. 

"Are you jealous?" he asked as he swirled you around.

Maybe you should punch him after all. Hopefully, it would wipe off the smug on his face.

"No.”

“She was needed for the prank. To lure Rosier in.”

“Don’t remember asking.”

“I know. Didn’t want you to think of something else.”

‘Why?’ You wanted to ask but blurted something else out instead.

“We don’t owe each other anything, do we? You can do what you like, and I can do what I like.”

He frowned a bit. 

“I thought you didn’t want to see others.”

“Time will tell.”

“I don’t want you to see others.”

“You were the one–”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?” you asked this time. Your heart was beating with the excitement of being so close to what you wanted to hear.  “It’s just sex like you said.”

“I made a mistake,” he said and turned the whole conversation into a joke again. “I didn’t know it was possible, either.”

“I will leave if you can’t stay serious for five minutes.”

“Fine, sorry,” he chuckled, but it was forced. His hands were sweaty, and his movements a bit sloppy. He was being extra careful not to step on you. He was aware this was the moment he was supposed to open his heart.

But he didn’t. He didn’t, and you waited.

You waited as he drew a sharp breath in, and you waited as he licked his lips. You waited for the words that never came. 

He was pushing you to the edge of a cliff, not letting you see the view. You could give up, let go of whatever this was. You could abandon your feelings and forbid your skin to his touch, and he wouldn’t have the power over your heart anymore.

All you had to do was to make the first move.

“I want this to be more, Sirius,” you said. 

His breath stopped for a moment. His hands tightened around your hips. You felt your steps come to a halt, too. Not that you were complaining; it was a weird dance. 

“I want you to be more.”

He rested his forehead against yours, a crook of a smile appearing on his lips. 

“We’re on the same page then,” he whispered, and you heard it despite the screams and music around you.

You didn’t know why he had such a hard time admitting his feelings or voicing them properly. But you were used to it. He wouldn’t tell you he cared about you, instead, he would dance to rock music with you.

You smiled and started to move ineptly at the head-aching music. He kissed your lips when you did, and you happily returned it. His lips were soft this time, and his kiss tender. Your smile didn’t fade when he pulled away. 

“How is your night so far?”

“Wonderful,” you giggled, “Yours?”

"You're the wonderful in my night," he whispered before kissing you again.

i'm a bit insecure about this one, but i'm also extremely tired

thank you for reading and let me know what you think!

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