#and I thought you might enjoy the content!

[mrshowlettsgarden]

Prompt number 7 with Logan 🫢

─➭ a/n: ooo, this is a good pick! I also apologize for the week delay; work was kicking my ass. but thank you for the request. I hope you enjoy; this is a long one - kaya <3 (prompt list)

We're Just Friends? - Logan Howlett: the one when you realized it meant more to him that you assumed

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ prompt #7: "Why did you leave me like that back there?" "Because." "Because, what?" "Because your dumbass can't figure out how much it hurts me when you say that we're "just friends."

─➭ content warning: hurt/comfort, miscommunication, friends to lover's trope, suggestive in the end

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It’s Charles' birthday party tonight that Jean and Storm decided to throw for him at the mansion. All the adults were to attend the black-tie shindig along with invited colleagues and so on. 

You were excited to have something to dress up for and eat some fancy food unlike the brute man pouting as he leans against your bathroom door. 

“I put on the suit that should be enough,” Logan sasses to you, “I ain’t putting on the damn bowtie.”

You roll your eyes as you put the cap back on your lipstick with an aggressive sigh, “Don’t be such a diva, Logan. Wear the bowtie.”

You get goosebumps seeing the dirtiest look he’s ever given to you through the mirror. You’re also fighting for your life to not break out into a fit of laughs. “The fuck did you call me?” he snaps. 

You couldn’t hold the laugh any longer and it slips from your lips as the dirty look turns into a pout on his face. Ignoring his question, you walk towards him and grab the bowtie from his hand. Logan has to fight to keep a straight face as your pretty self, inches closer with another step. If he could, he’d pull you in by the waist and take your lipstick off with a kiss. 

“It’s for one night. One night only,” you say with pleading eyes, “And women love a bowtie on a man so who knows who you might pull into your bed tonight,” you joke with a smile and wiggling eyebrows. 

Logan’s jaw clenches at your words. The only woman he wants to pull tonight is you but he doesn’t think you’d like that, so he shakes the thought away even though it hurts to do so.

You on the other hand wanted to slap yourself in the face for saying that because you just hurt your own feelings. You really don’t want to see Logan and a woman - who isn’t you - clinging to his arm at the end of tonight. Maybe you said that as foreshadowing to help prepare you for the moment that will eventually happen. But you ignore the pang in your heart. 

Logan scoffs aggressively as he takes the bowtie back from you and begins tying it himself while looking at the mirror, “Yeah, because that’s the goal I had for myself leading up to tonight,” he says sarcastically while you give him a look of smugness as you watch him finish the tie. 

“You look good though,” you say with a small smile as you adjust the tie a little bit. 

Logan looks back down to you with a tight-lipped smile. “You look good too, darlin,” he says back in a gentle tone.

And good is an understatement when it comes to you because you look so goddamn breathtaking. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you before today and now he thinks his greatest battle is to not admire you in your dress tonight. 

A black form-fitting dress is criminal to wear in front of him because this is his first time seeing the shape of your body and it makes him want to see more for his eyes only. Your heels give you extra height, but you still can’t reach up to him and he finds it endearing. 

Why do you have to be so beautiful…

You see him in a daze as he looks at you and you almost think it’s longing. But that's just a wish you have. “Logan? Are you still there?’ you say with a wave to bring him back down to earth. 

Logan smiles as he nods, “Where else would I be, huh?” he asks. 

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The party started hours ago and it’s still growing strong. 

Everyone is laughing, mingling, and dancing the night away. You say it's almost peaceful seeing everyone letting loose from the stress that has been filling up their lives. Everyone, including yourself, needed this. Everyone except Logan.

Such a party pooper… 

You walk up to him as he takes a swig of his drink. He looks up at you with a questioning look, expecting you to say whatever it is that’s on your mind. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you get up once other than for a drink,” you say knowingly.

Logan sighs, “At least, I got up instead waving down one of the servers.”

You groan at his words before walking around the table and pulling him up by his arm. “At least be polite and make your rounds to everyone,” you complain, “Then you can sit back down.”

Logan almost laughs at your miserable attempt to get him out of the comfort of his seat. But to save you from the embarrassment of falling on your ass, he sighs and gets up. “Only if you stay with me. We’re both suffering together,” he says almost pridefully as he moves your hand to wrap around his arm. 

Your face turns into a heater feeling his muscles along the expanse of his arms. You could only imagine how safe you’d feel having both arms wrapped around your body securely. At least you can bask in the moment a little longer before it gets taken away.

You stay on Logan’s arm as you both say your hellos and how are you’s. You can’t deny that it feels good to have him this close to you. And he can’t deny how comforting it is to be under your touch. He hasn't felt this relaxed in years. The more time he spends having you hold onto him like this only hurts him a lot more. Because the moment gets taken away every single time, he hears you say “we’re just friends” in nearly every conversation. 

“Oh no! We just came here as friends!”

“You’re too funny! We’re just friends.”

And he swore he heard somebody comment about how he’s like a fucking brother to you??

Now that one really started to boil his blood. 

Yes, you are friends. Best friends if anything but it will never hurt less to hear you say those three words. Those words are like that one annoying tune that is stuck on replay all night. Every person or group of people you both have gone up to have made comments or asked questions if you guys came to the party together. And just like the first time you were asked up till the last time, you were way too quick to shoot them down with “we're just friends”. 

After all the last couple of years since he’s been around you hopelessly thinking you’d catch onto his longing stares, lingering touches, and being by your side during missions, he thought eventually you’ll get the hint. Tonight is showing him that you won’t ever reciprocate his feelings back. He’s been shot, stabbed and you can name the rest, but this emotional pain is burning at him from the inside and out. He’s starting not to be able to take your stinging words any longer. 

Finally, all the rounds were made when you both made your way to Jean and Storm sitting at one of the tables. “I didn’t think you were actually able to get him out of that chair, Y/n,” Jean laughs.

“You made him into a social butterfly,” Storm snickers as Logan pulls out one of the chairs for you.  

You giggle at their comments while Logan scoffed out a “whatever” and looked away from you three as he took a seat. He can feel his hurt turning to anger right now and he’s trying really hard not to show it. He gently removes your arm from his as he waves a server down for a drink. Sensing something is off you’re about to ask him if he’s okay, but Storm beats you from talking. 

“You guys looked good out there though. Like a cute married couple,” she smiles as Jean nodded in agreement.

If only they and Logan knew how much you don’t oppose the idea of being married to him, but you could only laugh it off. That’s what you’ve been doing nearly all night as you and Logan made the rounds. You don’t think you’ve ever sounded like a broken record player having to repeat that you guys are purely platonic. You were just hoping that Logan wouldn’t start causing a scene when you heard him nearly growl every time you started talking. He seemed so tense too, more than usual but you thought it was because you were dragging him around to talk to people he wasn’t interested in. 

Which is why you would turn down the comments about you and Logan dating because you didn’t think that he’d enjoy that type of conversation about you but boy, were you so wrong. 

“Please, don’t make me repeat it again,” you playfully groan out with a laugh, “I don’t know how much I can take having to explain that I won’t ever see Logan that way-”

SLAM!!

You and the girls jump from the startling sound of Logan slamming his drink on the table then watch him storming off his chair and into the mansion. Stunned by his actions you look down at the glass and see that it had cracked from the force then look back at him walking away. You go after Logan without thinking, “I’ll go check on him,” you say as you speed off your chair in worried haste. 

Where did that come from? And why is he walking away so fast? He’s already made it inside the house in less than thirty seconds. Your feet hurt enough already from the heels, but you caught up to him as he was about to make his way upstairs.

“Logan!” you call as you pick up your pace a little more, but he ignores you, “Ugh! Logan!”

“What?” he snapped at you with a venomous tone.

You nearly cower at his nasty attitude towards you. He’s never talked to you like that before and you begin to feel uneasy about being the target of his rage. "What’s wrong? Why did you leave like that?” you ask as you follow him up the stairs. You're only two steps behind him.

“Because.” he continues walking with bigger strides.

“Because??” you repeat. You’re starting to get irritated with his attitude, “Because, what? Logan would you please slow dow-”

“Because I can’t fucking stand that your dumbass can't figure out how much it hurts me when you say that we're "just friends!!” he yells as he turns around to give you his full rage.

You stood there frozen and stunned by his words and also at the fact that he yelled at you louder this time too. You feel yourself start to shrink from his voice. You couldn’t think to get a word in before he interrupted you once more.

“How much longer should I have to deal with the fact that you only see me as your friend and nothing more, Y/n! You’re walkin’ around telling people down there that I’m only your friend and you were just telling Storm and Jean that you won’t ever see me more than that!” he shouts at you with a face full of hurt and anger, “Why haven’t you realized that I love you. That I’ve been in love with you. Y/n!”

Your heart stopped for a second hearing him say that. There are too many whirlwinds of emotions going on right now. It’s hard for you to fully grasp the fact that he just confessed to you. Logan Howlett confessed to you. Looking at him you realize that maybe he’s also realizing that he confessed too with how his eyes widened. 

You both stand there on the staircase in ear piercing silence as Logan pants from his rage. He rips his eyes off of you as he runs a hand down his face in stress. He looks so hurt right now. Your eyes are beginning to tear up from being the reason why he’s so hurt. But he needs to know that you feel the same way. 

After a minute of silence and trying to find your words, you softly but hesitantly speak up. “Logan…,” you shakingly call his name as you step forward. You’re about to reach for his hand but he steps back away from you.

“No,” he interrupted you while shaking his head. He doesn’t want to hear your rejection right now. He’s so angry at himself for letting his feelings for you drag on for this long. And he confessed to you in a way he never imagined he would. “Just forget I said anything. I’m done.”

Done…?

With that he storms off again much faster than before up to his room. Leaving you behind to swallow his words more. He loves you. How could that be? You swore he felt the complete opposite after all this time. He said he was done too. Done with you? 

While his words were finally settling in, you didn’t realize the tears had fallen down your cheeks. He loves you and then tells you he’s done. After all this time you thought he couldn’t see you that way, especially when he first arrived, he had a thing for Jean. But now, after his days of visiting you in the greenhouse, waiting for you in the hallway to get coffee in the mornings, and so much more… You’ve blind to his advancements. Even the way he talks to you is different from how he usually is and you didn’t realize that till he started yelling at you five minutes ago. 

You let out a shaky sigh to stop the sobs from slipping. 

God, you feel so stupid. 

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It’s been a couple weeks since the party and the last time you saw, let alone talked to Logan. 

You’ve never felt so lonely in the greenhouse by yourself and not having him there listening to you rant about whatever plant or lecture you need to get off your chest. You miss feeling his presence around you - the smell of his cigar, his teasing, his oddly comforting words that he held only for you… You miss him so much, but he wants nothing to do with you anymore.

The morning after the party you waited for him in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, but he never came. You tried knocking on his door a couple times after that when you wouldn’t see him but no answer. You knew he was in there counting from the energy you feel from the plant you jokingly gave him as a present, but you didn’t want to push him more. You also never failed to notice the way he would avoid you around the mansion. While the home was huge, you still saw him from a far and he’d walk away after your first glance in his direction. 

So, you gave him what he wanted. Space. 

And here you are sitting on one of the lounge chairs in the greenhouse at two in the morning. You couldn’t sleep or you haven’t been able to sleep without hearing Logan’s loud voice repeating his words in your head. The only thing that’s soothing you is the soft sound of the fountain that you’re sitting in front of. You stare at the lily pads floating in the water as you keep blinking back to that night Logan confessed. Would you call it a confession if he did it angrily? If he only would’ve stayed for thirty seconds longer, he would know that you love him too. 

Logan was sitting in the kitchen nursing on a bottle of soda since the damn house doesn’t have any beer or form of alcohol. God, he could use several of them right now to get what happened out of his head. He let his hurt turn into anger when he yelled out his love for you. He’s never felt so embarrassed doing that especially after seeing the look of shock and hurt on your face too. 

He just couldn’t stop the wave of emotions leaving his mouth in the form of words. He needed to get it off his chest after the number of times he was friend-zoned by you in one night. After he ditched you on the stairs to go into his room, he’ll admit that he felt a little lighter knowing that he finally told you how he feels but the weight came back when he started avoiding you. 

With how hard you were trying to get him to talk to you it just made him feel worse. Yes, he’s choosing to avoid you, but it doesn’t hurt him any less. He’d do anything to talk to you again, but he thinks nothing will be the same anymore, hence the reason for avoiding you. Again, he’s also embarrassed for throwing a tantrum on the stairs as he angrily declared his love for you. 

He still can’t believe he did that…

Logan frustratingly sighs as he chugs the rest of his drink as he gets up from his sitting. Maybe a walk will help. He needs to shake his feelings off and deal with the fact that he can’t come back from his confession. 

He zips his jacket up from the chill of the night as he steps out into the backyard and begins his walk. 

Nothing is heard other than silence as he furthers into the yard. He begins to get lost in thought as you come back into his mind. The way you looked scared from his rising voice to the sudden look of surprise when he said he loved you. Fuck, he still loves you despite the fact he hasn’t seen much of you the last two weeks. He misses you a lot.

“Damnit,” he mutters under his breath as he irritatedly kicks a pinecone out of his way.

 Logan continues to walk with no destination until he suddenly stops in his tracks to see the lights on in the greenhouse. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion because he knows how late it is and he knows you’re in there by yourself. But why are you in there and how long have you been in there? He ponders for a bit as he stares at the warm lights illuminating the glass walls. 

He stands there for a minute or two longer then makes his way to the double doors of the greenhouse. Usually when he or anyone walks up, you’d feel their presence and have the plants open the doors, but nothing happens. He looks around at the plants that surround the door to see if any of them move. But nothing, they’re still. He doesn’t sense any danger, but something is definitely off. 

He opens the doors without thinking and walks inside to find you. 

It’s eerily quiet inside as he walks around. He sniffs the air to smell for you and walks over to one of the fountains to where it leads to you. Your head is peeking out from the other side of the lounge chair, but you still haven't moved. He carefully walks around to find you curled up against the armrest sleeping. You look cozy and at peace if he wouldn’t have noticed the dry tear marks along your cheeks. 

His face turns into a look of regret instantly. Avoiding you was just him hurting both of your feelings with no end goal behind it. He was beginning to feel stupid and childish about this whole ordeal. How he feels about you shouldn’t be the end of the bond that you guys already had with each other. 

Besides tear marks, Logan also noticed the bags under your eyes as he kneeled down to be face to face with you. He sighs softly and brings the back of his hand to gently wipe the tear marks off your face. Your cheeks feel cold to the touch. You should be asleep in the comfort of your bed right now where it's warmer. So, Logan sucks up his feelings to wake you up.

The hand that was on your cheek moves down to your arm and starts to soothingly rub your arm up and down. “Y/n,” he whispers, “Wake up.”

You barely stir and it makes him want to laugh because you're such a heavy sleeper. So, he moves you a bit more and your eyebrows begin to furrow in irritation. For once you were sleeping somewhat well and you’re being woken up. You hear Logan’s voice, but you think it's just a dream until you hear him clearer the more you wake up. 

“Logan?’ you murmured as your eyes began to open.

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me,” he whispers back to you, “Let's get you back to bed.”

You lock eyes with his soft gaze, and you’ve never felt more relieved to see and feel him this close to him. You sit up instantly, “Hi…” you say to him.

He smiles softly a stary strand of hair away from your face, “Hey… You shouldn’t be sleeping here alone, you know.”

You nodded as you rub the sleepiness away from your eyes as you look away from him. “I haven’t been able to sleep,” you said. Logan hums in response and silence settles for a moment between you two. You bite your bottom lip nervously as you start to think of what to say but you cower from the thought thinking that he won’t listen to you like before. You move your eyes to look at him, but you realize that he was still looking at you.

Logan couldn’t take his eyes off of you since he found you asleep. It feels like he hasn’t seen you for months to almost a lifetime. If you only knew how much you have molded yourself into his mind since day one. He sees how nervous you are right now from the way you’re looking back at him. He’s about to apologize for his outburst but you beat him to it. 

“I love you, Logan.”

Wait what?

A look of shock was thrown onto his face, but you interrupted him again. “I-If you would have stayed longer, I would’ve had the chance to say it back to you,” you stammer softly, “And I’m so sorry for hurting your feelings during the party. I swear, I-I thought that I was saving you from the conversations that I had dragged you to. I’m so sorry.”

You feel the tears fall again with how fast your eyes are building them up. You missed him too much and he needs to know this time that you've always felt the same way. You’re about to continue apologizing but Logan cups one of your cheeks with his warm hand. You feel his thumb wipe a tear and it makes you hold his hand with yours while you nuzzle your cheek further into his touch. 

"I missed you, Logan...," you shakingly sigh out.

"I missed you too, darlin'"

Relieved tears fell while Logan came closer to rest his forehead against yours. You feel so comforted to have him this close again. You run your hand up his chest to lure him closer. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs under your touch, “I was mad at myself and took it out on you. I didn’t mean to scare you either. I…I love you so much.”

You feel his lips brush so lightly against yours, it makes you pull away slightly to look back at him again. You don't think words can describe how much you need him impossibly close to you right now, it's making you needy for him. Your eyes move down to his lips then back up to his hazel ones.

“Kiss me, Lo-”

You didn’t have to finish the damn sentence because his lips met yours in an instant. Like hell he was going to walk away again now. A warm feeling blossoms in your chest as he pulls you closer to him with both of his arms around you to make you wrap your legs around his waist. Logan nearly groans, feeling you pressed against his body. The smell of the soft eucalyptus scent of your conditioner was making him dizzy but only made him crave for you more. 

You feel him pull you toward him more before getting up from his kneeled position near fluently with you in his arms. You gasped out a laugh at his brute strength and he smirked smugly.

“Show off…,” you say blissfully.

Logan chuckles as goes back in for another kiss, “You’ll learn to love it, sweetheart.”

You smile as you shyly bite your lips hearing him call you that. You couldn’t help yourself and went in for another kiss. Your bodies heatedly pressed together as you cupped both sides of his cheeks making him part his lips just enough for you to slip your tongue inside his mouth. Logan didn’t stop himself from sinking into your embrace despite holding you in his arms. 

You both lose your thoughts, getting lost into the comfort of the kiss. It felt so natural to have each other this close and it makes you wonder why it took so long for you both to get to this moment. And neither of you were planning on stopping it. You want more of him and he wants more of you. The ache you feel in your core is calling for more of his touch. 

You force yourself to pull away and you feel him chase after your lips. “Fuck, baby. Why’da stop?’ you can hear how desperate he is for you right now and it and it makes you smile.

“Take me to bed Lo…,” you whisper against his lips, “I need to feel more of you.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice because he instantly tossed you over his shoulder making you squeal out a laugh.

“Let’s go then, pretty girl.”

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[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully. 

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly. 

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones. 

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning. 

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances. 

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.” 

“What if it freaks him out?” 

“It’ll be fine.” 

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?” 

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum. 

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing. 

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.” 

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute. 

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.” 

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct. 

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes. 

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more. 

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song. 

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.” 

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago. 

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie. 

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room. 

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child. 

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room. 

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment. 

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days. 

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has. 

“No fucking way!” 

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it. 

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony. 

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat. 

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck. 

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.” 

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.” 

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?” 

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.” 

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.” 

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads. 

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won. 

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?” 

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun. 

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them. 

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious. 

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin. 

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake. 

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body. 

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man. 

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught. 

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?. 

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-( 

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots. 

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Unimportant. 

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice? 

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons. 

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at. 

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone? 

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying. 

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face. 

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?” 

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.” 

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine. 

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.” 

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin. 

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?” 

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.” 

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care. 

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his- 

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk. 

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment. 

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite. 

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg. 

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight. 

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been. 

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.” 

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone. 

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you. 

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.” 

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon. 

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python. 

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.” 

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder. 

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time. 

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.” 

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is. 

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth. 

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk. 

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now. 

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first. 

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly. 

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.” 

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left. 

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice. 

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight. 

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder. 

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume. 

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this. 

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with. 

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend. 

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.” 

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways. 

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent. 

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.” 

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.” 

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy. 

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it. 

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-” 

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up. 

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy. 

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.” 

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering. 

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise. 

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built. 

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?” 

“No.” 

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.” 

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.” 

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly. 

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly. 

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you. 

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this? 

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off. 

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?” 

And for a second, you almost do. 

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still. 

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.” 

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why. 

You’d started this without even considering the consequences. 

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?” 

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this. 

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down. 

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!” 

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars. 

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it. 

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest. 

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin. 

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt. 

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?” 

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens. 

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple. 

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples? 

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.” 

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?” 

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin. 

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend. 

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity. 

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree. 

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well. 

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind. 

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-” 

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?” 

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and- 

Wait. 

Eddie was smiling. 

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together. 

He’s just smiling. 

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression. 

“Yeah.” 

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe not. 

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.” 

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?” 

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.” 

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles. 

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious. 

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.” 

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.” 

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.” 

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism. 

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken? 

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief. 

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from? 

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple. 

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.” 

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.” 

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.” 

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you. 

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing. 

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him. 

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front. 

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.” 

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?” 

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on. 

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.” 

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.” 

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely. 

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.” 

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him. 

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it. 

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to. 

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already. 

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat. 

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it. 

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is. 

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that. 

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster. 

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment. 

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation. 

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics. 

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.” 

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.” 

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine. 

“Eddie.” 

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret. 

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him. 

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile. 

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone. 

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible. 

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely. 

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at. 

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?” 

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both. 

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.” 

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?” 

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.” 

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.” 

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?” 

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains. 

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.” 

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage. 

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT? 

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?” 

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.” 

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur. 

“What do you mean not yet?” 

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck. 

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake. 

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?” 

“Oh, fuck me.” 

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings. 

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat. 

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish. 

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S? 

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother. 

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?” 

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.” 

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-” 

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession. 

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus. 

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it. 

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles. 

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones. 

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind. 

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap. 

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut. 

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed. 

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.” 

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him. 

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?” 

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back. 

“Almond croissants.”

[aemnd]

𝒹𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝒻𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦. ⎯⎯⎯ 𝙖.𝙩.

content warnings. -> minors dni. smut. afab. fem!reader. cunnilingus. incest. size kink. pet names. canon!aemond. dom + sub undertones. fluff, with dark undertones. obsessive & possessive behaviors.

𝓵𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘦'𝘴 𝓁𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝓃𝘰𝘵𝘦— hihi. !!!!!! ♥︎🧸 first lil fanfic on this new blog :) i hope y'all enjoy reading, lil angels. ໒꒰���ིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১♡ pls rb & comment to lmk what y'all think. 💭

she was such a pretty thing— a shy, sensitive little angel, made from the moon herself, with a delicate heart and a doll-like face, always so sweetly naïve.

before the war, aemond had always thought her to be divine, enchanting with her natural-born beauty, something he coveted, clinging to the fantasies he would conjure up in his mind when he was just a boy, ready to snap at any moment to claim her as his.

and so, with time, and lots of effort and patience, as well as a bit of bloodshed and cruelty, aemond had finally captured his sweet little niece, claiming her as his fragile bride.

with a low hum, the corner of aemond's naturally curved lips curl up into a soft, lazy smirk, his dilated eye sharp and completely focused on his little wife, observing her naked, curled up frame in their martial bed, amused by the way she continued to pretend to be sleeping.

"my darling wife," aemond purrs, his voice a soft, but deep baritone as he walks over to her petite form, the sapphire that was stuffed into his left eye socket gleaming with obsession, a need to worship her, his perfect little goddess.

"'tis time to wake up, sweet niece."

"mmh... but aemond, i'm still so sleepy," she complains, her voice soft-spoken and sweetly innocent, luring aemond even more under her wicked spell, captivated by the way her slender limbs move to stretch languidly, looking just like a newborn kitten.

aemond's gaze lingers on her beautiful face, memorizing every detail, even the minuscule ones, unable to stop his eye from falling to her bosom, enchanted by her breasts— so beautiful and perky, deliciously sweet, with tiny little nipples just begging to be sucked on and teased.

"mh, perhaps i should find another way to get you out of bed, my sweet," he suggests, slightly mocking, almost taunting her as one of his large, calloused hands reach out towards her, his long, nimble fingers gently gliding across the smooth, bare skin of her inner thigh.

softly, she giggles as she shyly looks up at her beloved husband, squinting up at him with a cute, playful pout. "i think you just love to see me annoyed, husband," the princess complains, sulking, unable to keep herself from squirming underneath his feather-light touch on her skin.

"you just might be right, my love," aemond coos, his voice softened with faux sweetness, his lips curling up into a sharp grin, readying himself to feast upon his wife's luscious body.

before she can utter another word, her husband effortlessly grabs her by her plushy thighs, and then practically yanks her down until her ass meets the edge of the large bed, allowing him to finally settle comfortably between her spread legs— an offering as sweet as the finest ambrosia.

swiftly, aemond kneels before her with a hungry glint in his remaining eye, his lips parted slightly with the need to taste her, to devour her sweetness, to consume her completely.

"aemond... p-please, do not tease me," she begs breathily, sounding so pretty for him, all needy. with little patience, aemond leans down until his face is hovering right over her slick, glistening cunt, her tiny hole fluttering and clenching with the need to be stuffed full of cock.

with a small, satisfied smirk, aemond breathes a light chuckle, his sapphire eye sharp and gleaming as his remaining eye focuses solely on his beloved wife's face, adorably scrunched up in anticipation.

"do not fear, little wife," aemond croons, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses across her mound, listening to her soft mewls and sweet sighs of pleasure, making the prince snicker underneath his breath, his lips now ghosting right above where her puffy clit laid concealed by her delicate folds.

"i swear to you, upon my honor as a targaryen— i shall worship this delectable little pussy until you're writhing and begging me for release," he promises, parting her slippery folds with two fingers, grinning sharply as he reveals her little fuckhole, hypnotized by the way her tiny cunt flutters and clenches around nothing, leaking with her arousal.

swiftly, aemond's tongue darts out, licking a slow, deliberate path along her leaking slit, savoring the sweet honey that was her arousal. he groans in approval, the sound vibrating against her most intimate area, causing his innocent wife to squeak sharply, a soft, feminine noise of pleasure echoing and bouncing off of the walls of their chamber.

"mmh, so fucking delicious... you were made for my pleasure, weren't you, sweetling?"

she gasps sharply, her back arching off the bed as aemond's skilled tongue makes contact with her sensitive flesh, teasing her with gentle licks at first before he begins lapping at her eagerly, a low growl ripping through his throat as he feasts on her drooling cunt.

with a girlish shriek, pleasure sparks through her like lightning, igniting a desperate ache deep inside her womb.

the pleasure aemond gives her is always so intense, so overwhelming, nearly suffocating, and yet, she cannot help but crave even more from him, addicted and hungry for more, always more.

it was never enough, she could never get enough of him, and just like herself, her beloved husband was always in need of her as well, an obsessive need to take, to claim, to own… to belong to each other.

"ohh... gods, y-yes! please, aemond," she whimpers, her soft-spoken voice all high-pitched and needy, her fingers tangling in the long, silky strands of aemond's silvery hair, urging him to continue on. "m-more, i...i need... i-i need..."

her hips buck up involuntarily, seeking friction against the velvet stroke of his skilled tongue, not caring how pathetic she must look trying to grind her cunt on her husband's blissed out face.

soon, her mind reels, struggling to comprehend the onslaught of sensations, the sheer bliss that threatens to consume her entirely. she feels so alive, so taken, so utterly possessed by the intense, stimulating pleasure that aemond gives to her.

"a-aemond, it feels... t-too much!" she squeals, delirious and whiny with her intense, building pleasure, feeling as if her own pleasure was nearly suffocating her.

aemond's eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he hears her frantic pleas, her body trembling beneath his ministrations. he redoubles his efforts, lapping and suckling at her clit with increasing fervor, determined to push her to the brink of ecstasy.

"that's it, sweetling... let go for me," he growls against her dripping folds, the vibrations adding to her torment. "i want to hear you scream my name as you come undone for me."

aemond's fingers join the assault, plunging two digits deep into her fluttering fuckhole, pumping steadily as his tongue continues its relentless stimulation on her swollen clit.

humming softly, aemond's free hand reaches up to palm at her breast, rolling and pinching the sensitive nipple, further heightening her arousal.

"mine, you're all mine, wife," he declares, his voice thick with desire.

not a second later, her world narrows to the point of aemond's tongue, his fingers quickly fucking into her, the searing touch of his large, masculine hands on her most intimate places. she's drowning in sensation, her mind fragmenting under the force of her impending climax.

"yes, y-yes, yours!" she wails, her voice ragged and breathless, unable to stop squirming and writhing helplessly beneath his mastery. "p-please, husband, make me... make m-me..."

a choked sob escapes from her pouty lips as the first waves of her orgasm crash over her, her inner walls clamping down hard around aemond's thrusting fingers. her vision whites out, stars exploding behind her fluttering eyelids as pleasure rips through her like a tempest, leaving her gasping and shaking in its aftermath.

"a-aemond!" she squeals, girlish whines continuously falling from her quivering lips.

aemond feels his wife shatter beneath his touch, her release gushing forth in a flood of slick desire. with a small, devilish smirk, he works her through it mercilessly, prolonging her pleasure until she collapses back onto their bed, spent and panting.

with a final, lingering swipe of his tongue, aemond withdraws from between her shaky thighs, crawling up her trembling form to capture her mouth in a deep, searing kiss, making his little wife taste herself on his lips, salty-sweet and intoxicating.

"you're exquisite as always, little wife," he murmurs against her mouth, his own still tinged with the evidence of her passion, "however… we've only just begun."

⎯⎯𝓯𝘪𝘯,

[halloweenbitch2764]

In sequel to "Slashers Catching You Masturbating" I present to you, You Catching The Slashers Masturbating. Hope you enjoy!

NSFW Content Ahead!

Catching The Slashers Masturbating

Bo Sinclair

You decided to visit Bo at the shop today. Usually you stayed up at the house but you wanted to surprise your boyfriend. So you were making the trek to the gas station/mechanic shop. You hummed softly to yourself as you walked, reaching the gas station soon enough.

You walked into the mechanic side of the shop and noticed Bo was nowhere to be found. It was strange. You walked into the gas station and still noticed he wasn't there either. You chewed on your cheek as you contemplated where he might be.

There hadn't been any victims lately, so it wasn't that. As far as you were aware, this was where he'd be. You walked further into the gas station and saw a back room which Bo sometimes used as an office sort of space. The door was closed but not locked. You tried the door handle, and it was unlocked.

You pushed the door open to find Bo on a chair, legs splayed open as his fingers were wrapped around his cock. His face was contorted into one of pleasure, and his eyes were closed. It seemed he had yet to notice you were even in the room.

You smirked to yourself and knocked loudly on the door. His eyes shot open, and he noticed you. "What are you doing here?" He asked, not making any movements. You laughed softly. "I was going to visit you." You say and smirk. His surprised appearance melted into one of seductiveness.

"Well, how about you come help me then, sweetheart." He said, stroking his cock teasingly slow.

Vincent Sinclair

You had been assisting Bo at the shop, just doing some routine cleaning. Just enough to make the shop look normal to any visitors. You weren't certain where Vincent was but assumed he was simply in the basement of the museum, working on whatever wax figure he was currently on.

You double-checked with Bo and headed back to the house, finishing your chores early. Vincent knew you were helping Bo for the day. You contemplated visiting him in the museum but decided against it for the meantime. He needed his space to do his work.

You opened the front door, the house being silent as you expected. You closed the door and walked into the house. You contemplated what you wanted to do before deciding. A soft yawn tumbled from your lips as you headed for your bedroom. You'd just like to lie down for a little bit.

You noticed the door was closed, which confused you a bit. Didn't you leave it open this morning? You brushed it off. Maybe you had simply misremembered. It wouldn't be the first time.

You pushed the door open to find Vincent laying on the bed, his cock in his hand and mask on the side table. You gasped in surprise, and Vincent quickly tried to pull his pants up. "I'm sorry!" You squeaked out and closed the door quickly.

After a moment, the door opened, and Vincent was standing there. He looked less disheveled. "Sorry for just walking in, I thought it was weird that the door was closed, but I figured I just didn't remember properly and -" He cut your rambling off by pulling you into the bedroom and shutting the door behind you.

You looked at him curiously but noticed he was still hard. "Oh, do you want help?" You asked, and he nodded. He pulled you to the bed and laid down, pulling you so you straddled his lap.

Thomas Hewitt

You had been kept up later than usual this evening. Luda Mae had extra chores for you, and a victim had nearly escaped, wreaking chaos throughout the house. You were left to clean up the mess. The night was kinder than the hot daytime sun so you didn't mind staying up a little later.

You stood up, dusted your hands off, and yawned softly. You had finished your final chore and were finally able to head to bed. You said goodnight to Luda Mae and headed to your shared bedroom.

The door was closed, which wasn't surprising. Thomas had likely already gone to bed. You quietly opened the door and stepped into the room, quietly shutting the door behind you. You didn't even notice what Thomas was doing until you turned around.

The glow of the moonlight showed you what was happening. Thomas's hand moved up and down his shaft, his face scrunched into one of pleasure. You didn't say anything but bit your cheek. You walked towards the bed when a floorboard squeaked, alerting him of your presence.

He immediately stopped and looked at you, settling down when he noticed it was just you. He looked a bit guilty. You gave him a sweet smile and approached him, climbing on top of him so you straddled his waist. "Want some help?" You asked, and he nodded.

Billy Loomis

You were busy with classes, so you weren't able to hang out with Billy. He usually found something to do while you were busy, so you weren't worried. You hummed softly as you unlocked your apartment door, pushing it open.

You set your stuff down, sighing softly. You needed to do some studying. You had a couple of important tests coming up. Suddenly, you stopped, noticing a noise coming from your bedroom. You grabbed a knife from your kitchen and slowly moved towards the room.

You held your hand on the handle, hearing soft grunts coming. You gripped the handle of the knife and threw the door open, raising the knife. Billy was laying in your bed, his cock in his hand. He looked at you and smirked. He didn't seem to care that he was in your room or the fact that you had caught him jerking off.

"Hey princess. You got home earlier than I expected." He said and smirked. "Asshole, I thought someone broke into my house!" You say and lower the knife, setting it on a table by the door. He shrugged, not making any move to cover himself. In fact, he kept stroking himself.

"Wanna come help me?"

Studying could wait.

Stu Macher

You had promised to hang out with Stu later in the day, but found you could come over sooner. You had previous obligations to attend to, but managed to finish them early. You had tried to call Stu to let him know you were heading over but he hadn't picked up. You figured maybe he was busy with something. As far you knew, he was home for the day.

You parked your car and walked up the sidewalk to his apartment. You knocked on the door and waited. After a minute or two, you knocked again, but still no answer. You tried the doorknob and saw it wasn't locked. You worried something had happened so you opened the door.

You walked into the apartment and looked around. Nothing was out of place. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and continued into the apartment. You heard soft grunts coming from his bedroom. It wasn't clear if they were from pain or pleasure. Your paranoia feared the worst.

You threw the door open, and Stu laid on his bed, his dick in his hand. His head immediately turned in your direction, and he stopped what he was doing. "Ohhhh, you were busy, huh?" You teased him, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.

He looked almost flustered that you had caught him. "You weren't supposed to see that." He said and tried to hide his lower half with a blanket. You laughed softly and approached him. "Want some help?" You asked flirtatiously. His eyes lit up, and he nodded excitedly.

[hyunebunx]

maybe it's not our fault - chapter 01

── synopsis: after a nasty breakup that’s left you completely shattered, you’re set on giving up on love forever. That is until, in a surprising turn of events, your respective best friends start dating and one of their main goals is to restore the peace in your broken relationship. Will their plan succeed? Will they manage to play cupid and get you and your high school sweetheart back together, or will it all backfire and result in the end of their own love story?

There is only one way to find out. If only your beloved’s heart wasn’t already broken beyond repair…

╰─▸ ❝ pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

╰─▸ ❝ content: exes to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, suggestive themes, drama and heartbreak, jock!hyunjin who is captain of the uni's football team + dance major!hyunjin, college au, lack of communication.

╰─▸ ❝ word count: 10k

a/n: it's here!! special thank you to my croissant baby laure @byunfirstlady (this wouldn't be a me story if i didn't mention her somehow fgfdgh) for reading this for me before posting!! since this is the first chapter, things might feel a little slow, but dw, it will all pick up soon! enjoy <33 and do let me know your thoughts after reading <3

“That is not going to fit!”

He scoffs, already annoyed. “Yes, it is! Just move over a little.”

“A little? I’m already stretched the fuck out! What more do you want from me?”

“Seohyun, I swear to fucking God – “

She yelps, most likely cramping. “Just pull it out, you dumbass – “

“What the hell is going on in here?”

You and Chan stop dead in your tracks, confused at the scene currently playing out in front of your very eyes. You were gone downstairs for less than ten minutes to get the rest of your stuff, with you and Chan carrying a box each that held the essentials to ensure this move went smoothly. And in that time frame, your two other best friends have already managed to be at each other’s throats.

The front door of your apartment was wide open, with dumb and dumber currently looking like two deers caught in headlights on opposite sides, separated by an old armchair whose springs had become a death trap over the years. Last year, when you held parties here, someone was always left standing — it was either the cursed chair or the floor, with most guests picking the latter once they were drunk enough.

“Uh, hi?” Jisung greets, forcing a smile onto boyish features that haven’t changed much since you met almost seven years ago, in high school.

Bewiled, you set the box down by Chan’s feet and approach. “Are you guys, okay? What happened?”

Whistling, Jisung tries to pretend he has everything under control. He doesn’t, he never does, that’s just the type of guy he was. “Duh, we’re fantastic! Everything is under control, don’t even – “

Called it.

“For the love of god, just shut up and let them help us already!” Seohyun barks from the other side, prompting you to peek in to see her straighten her posture, rubbing her wrists in obvious discomfort. With a sigh and a glare from Jisung who steps back to allow Chan to take his place, she explains. “We were trying to get this chair out to make room for the new one.”

Chuckling, Chan inspects the door frame while you pass Seohyun one of the boxes right over the ugly, red chair that’s seen better days. “And it got stuck?”

“Yes, because Jisung didn’t want to listen – “

“Or maybe because you started pushing when I wasn’t ready, like an idiot.” He counters instantly, never one to back out from a fight instigated by Seohyun. Not to be fooled, these two were as close as can be, the bickering reflective of their special bond.

You and Chan share a look as they start again, amusement clear in gentle, doe eyes that have comforted you numerous times over the years. Meeting back in the summer before high school, you and Chan have been attached at the hip ever since, clicking as pre-teens and growing up together, maturing down the same path that’s led you to the same university, and even the same major you also shared with Jisung. Music production has always been a passion of yours, so getting to fulfil that dream with your absolute best friend by your side was a blessing you couldn’t be more thankful for.

“Alright.” Chan stops their bickering, one hand landing on Jisung’s shoulder to get his attention. “Stand on it.”

“Pardon?” Jisung blinks at him, as confused as you and Seohyun were, not sure he heard Chan right.

Smiling, Chan squeezes his shoulder. “So, you can step on the backrest and make it fall over. It will be easier to move afterwards.”

“You think so?” He asks, biting down on his bottom lip, not confident in the slightest.

Your best friend nods, giving his bottom an encouraging pat. “Positively. Now go on, I don’t want to spend my whole day in this hallway.”

Seohyun scrambles back, unwilling to get caught in between Jisung and the chair, giving him enough room to do what he must to free her exit.

Watching the whole scene unfold has you smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep your laughter at bay once Jisung realizes the task isn’t as dangerous as he expected. It’s anticlimactic, more than anything, as he gets on top of the chair to step on the backrest, going down slowly without even losing his balance.

He blinks, barely realizing it’s over before making eye contact with Seohyun who bursts out laughing like she’s been holding it in since the beginning. The three of you join in quickly after, your delight bouncing off the hallway walls and lifting the spirits tremendously.

After all, nobody in existence was ever excited for summer to end and classes to start again, with a new, even more demanding schedule than last year. You were in your third year now and things were bound to get difficult the closer you got to graduating.

This silly moment was exactly what you needed to start the new year right, sure it would become a core memory later down the line when you’d all be working adults, with even more responsibilities and nonexistent free time. The sight of Chan dragging the armchair out, without any difficulty whatsoever as Jisung and Seohyun’s jaws hit the floor, incredulous he didn’t struggle like they did, was sure to bring a smile to your face for years to come.

When your only access to the apartment was finally free, the four of you gathered inside with the remaining boxes.

“You weren’t kidding, you do have all of your stuff here.” Seohyun hums, scanning her surroundings, and her new home. The apartment was yours. You moved in just last year and you’ve lived by yourself until now, when you welcomed her with open arms and a little too much excitement.

“Yeah.” You nod, already moving around to put the scattered things back in their rightful places. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t bother cleaning up before leaving.”

The living room was fine – your bedroom was the one that suffered the most, already dreading the thought of having to dig through all the mess to find most of your things.

The apartment was a gift from your parents, after successfully finishing your first year of university living in a dorm. Sure, having your own space was great, but you’d never trade that first year for anything in the world. That’s where you meet Seohyun after all, growing closer and closer with every sleepless night you spent together giggling and talking about everything under the sun, not feeling the hours tick by until one of your alarms would ring, signalling the start of a new day.

It was big, too spacious for only one person to live in, with two bedrooms and a bathroom straight out of an interior design magazine. Even though Seohyun didn’t move in until now, you were never truly alone with Jisung and Chris living right next door. Someone was always keeping you company, which you were thankful for, in more ways than one.

Already moving about like they owned the place, Chris and Jisung were helping you tidy up, with the latter moving to check for anything rotten in the kitchen. With four pairs of hands on deck, it didn’t take more than fifteen minutes for everything to be back to normal, leaving you to take care of the dusting.

“Alright.” Chan stands, carrying two trash bags. “Ji, let’s go get the armchair.”

Jisung follows before Seohyun calls after them. “Right, is it in your car?”

“I thought it was in yours?” He turns around, stopping in the doorway while Chan is already busy calling the elevator, further away.

You see her brows furrow, setting the duster down before grabbing her car keys. “Nope.”

The ding of the elevator gets your attention, and they share a look before hurrying after Chan, in search of said armchair, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud. You lived high up, on the 10th floor – nobody was ever willing to take the stairs and waste that much time.

And so, in the blink of an eye, you are left alone in the apartment that held so many of your memories, beautiful moments you wouldn’t trade even in exchange for forgetting the sad ones.

You feel a little lost, staring around like you couldn’t recognize your own home, shoulders slumping with a deep sigh. Your gaze moves towards your closed bedroom door, feet following before your hand twists the doorknob and you’re engulfed in sunlight, blinking rapidly to adjust to the change in lighting.

Inside, the sight that greets you seems frozen in time, transporting you back in June to the last moments spent in this room, where you were running around to pack in a hurry. You don’t dare move, just taking it all in as memories flood your mind and make your heart ache in your chest, what still remains of it, anyway.

All of your stuff thrown around haphazardly painted a picture you didn’t enjoy, yet couldn’t look away from either. Your bed remained unmade, with piles of clothing, bags and random objects occupying all the space. Framed photographs were thrown everywhere around the room, just so they would stop glaring at you from their place on your nightstand, face down and most likely damaged by the broken glass. The vase on your dresser, which used to stand tall with beautiful, healthy flowers seemed to have lost its color, struggling to fulfil its purpose because of the dried, mouldy peonies you didn’t bother throwing out before leaving.

But what’s even worse than the mess is what tipped you over the edge back then, falling to your knees on the fluffy, white carpet as you sobbed uncontrollably – the things he left behind were still here, in the exact same spots, in pristine condition. Your room looked like it barely survived the hurricane that shared your name, yet his red cap was still resting quietly next to the flowers he got you. One of his sketchbooks, still opened on that drawing he never got to finish as he got too busy with school, was on the other nightstand, on his side of the bed. A pair of his dancing shoes were by the door, right next to your comfy slippers. They have been there for so long, that you couldn’t enter your room without tripping over them and be reminded of his presence every single time. Hell, you bet if you checked right now, his toothbrush will still be next to yours in the cute holder you bought together, his razor not far away.

There were traces of him everywhere you looked in this apartment, clothes and necessities he left behind on his many visits. Like his football jersey, lucky number 20, you’ve worn more times than him, hung in your open closet among empty hangers that barely held on.

It wasn’t fair, how you seemed to crumble along with everything around you while he, and his stupid things, remained intact. The world shattered beneath your feet, freefalling to your doom of self-doubts and regrets while he continued with his life like nothing even happened. Like you never happened; like you weren’t such a fundamental part in his life in the exact same way he was in yours.

Your ex boyfriend moved on in the blink of an eye, while you were still here, crying at the sight of a stupid toothbrush.

This will never be fair. Why did you always seem to draw the short end of the stick?

New beginnings were usually your favorite. Starting another book, turning a new leaf and switching up your wardrobe for a change, getting the inspiration for another song – these were all activities that brought you joy. Now, returning to campus at the end of summer vacation to begin another school year? For the first time since starting university two years ago, felt like an impossible task, one you weren’t ready for in the slightest. Because how could you ever be ready to start your junior year without him?

How could you possibly embark on a new journey without him holding your hand and guiding you through it all, navigating around every hardship with ease like he was the most experienced sailor in existence?

You had no answers, only questions. Too many that were also too loud, bouncing off of the sturdy walls of your mind that were threatening to crumble with every thud, remaining standing only thanks to the unbearable headaches that reminded you to take a break from all the overthinking.

Your mind went quiet as another voice made its presence known, bringing you back to the world outside your bedroom while shooing the dark cloud above your head out the window with ease.

“Oh my god, we lost the goddamn chair!”

A wet laugh escaped your lips, more tears rolling down your cheeks as you desperately tried to wipe them all before joining your friends in the living room. You weren’t stupid – they were worried. That’s why Seohyun was moving in, in the first place. To keep an eye on you at all times, when the other two couldn’t be there and provide the much needed support you craved so badly.

Not like they knew you were aware of their little plan, having them figured out from the moment they showed up at Chan’s doorstep in Australia, last month. They’ve been tiptoeing around you since then, not knowing what emotional state you were in or what’s changed or hasn’t in the two months you spent apart. Sure, Chris might have filled them in, but they were still afraid. Afraid they were going to mess up somehow and have you slipping through their fingers and shatter at any moment, like you were nothing more than a fragile package, all progress lost the second something that reminded you of him jumped into your path.

And, you hate to admit but they were right.

They failed to take into consideration that even though your ex never actually moved in, the apartment was his as much as it was yours, quickly becoming your shared home as you fell into a routine that involved the other at every step.

Your three close friends were the only people present, but all you could see was him, a ghost roaming around and haunting every corner of the house you now despised, his giggles caressing your ears gently every time you moved from one room to the other.

Just being here felt like torture. How were you supposed to spend another two years sleeping in the same bed you shared with the person you thought was going to be your forever?

“Sweetheart.” Chan’s gentle voice coaxes you out of the room as you manage to pull yourself together, no sign of crying or distress still present on your features. If anything, they looked worse than you, crestfallen and a little embarrassed.

“We have something to tell you.” Seohyun steps closer, gently taking your hands into hers and intertwining your fingers loosely.

Jisung nods and is by your side in a second, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he lowers his mouth to your ear. “Chris lost your new armchair.”

“What the fuck?!”

Your laughter joins theirs, a beat later, as Chris remains the only one standing there, arms crossed over his chest with his words falingl on deaf ears, nobody paying attention as he begins defending himself.

When you’re pulled into a warm embrace, with Jisung’s cologne enveloping all your senses, you can’t help but start wondering. Is this a good time to finally reveal you never actually ordered a new chair or…?

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

Saturday slipped away into a moment in time, and before you knew it, Sunday was upon you. Your last chance at relaxing before the craziness began, and you’d be thrust into a series of new projects, classes and assignments that were already giving you a headache.

Despite spending the previous night celebrating a new beginning with your best friends, having an intimate pizza party with karaoke and a little too much alcohol, you wake up bright and early to get to a previously made appointment. Usually, you wouldn’t go anywhere for the summer, for the first two months anyway. But since you flew out of the country as soon as your exams were over, you didn’t get to help the animal shelter you have been volunteering at since your first year. It left a hole in your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel guilty for disappearing into thin air, with nothing more than a text sent to the owner to let her know you’ll be going away for a while.

Hopefully, they’re willing to forgive and forget and let you make up for it by spending the next two months as involved as possible.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Comes Chan’s groggy voice, still husky from all the singing he did last night, stumbling out of your spare bedroom with barely open eyes.

You startle, losing your balance while putting on your other shoe and crashing into the wall by the front door. You were hoping to make a swift escape and return before any of them rose since nobody in their right mind would willingly wake up this early.

He appears from around the corner, tank top slightly raised as he’s trying to scratch at his back. “You good?”

“Yep, everything’s just peachy.” Regaining your footing, you manage to put your shoe on and turn your back to him to get a jacket, feeling too awkward to make eye contact right now, which Chan would have laughed about if he wasn’t so sleepy.

“Where are you going?” He yawns, turning to squint at the clock on the far wall, above the couch. “It’s literally 7 am, too early to even be alive right now.”

For some reason, you hesitate to tell him, too out of it for your, and most definitely his liking. Being here was certainly not doing you any good, the walls closing in every time you tried to breathe and lift all the broken pieces of your stupid heart off of your lungs. It felt suffocating, especially when you were left alone with your thoughts as you zoned out one too many times.

Still, you mumble under your breath, reaching for your keys as silently as possible.

“Huh?”

With a sigh, you finally face him, eyes downcast. “Furry Friends Rescue.”

The smile that stretches across his features as he processes your words is so wide and contagious, it brightens up the whole room like he was somehow related to the sun itself, light radiating off of him in waves. It wakes him up instantly, and before you know it, he slips into a pair of slides left by the door and flies to his apartment.

You look after him, confused, and step into the hallway at the same time he does.

“Alright, let’s go!” He beams, locking his door before reaching for your arm softly. “I’ll drive you!”

“Wait, are you sure? I can – “

“Yes, I’m sure!” He frowns, shaking his head and pulling you after him with his newfound energy. “You love it there, and I know you already miss Berry. The least I can do is offer you a ride, are you kidding?”

You can’t help but smile at the mention of his puppy, spirits lifted in an instant. She was such a special little lady and you really bonded in these three months you’ve spent at his parents’ house.

Your parents never allowed you to have a pet, with your mom being allergic, so you did what you could to fill the space that remained constantly empty in your heart.

The drive there is full of laughter and even more singing, with Chris bringing back one of the activities you loved doing since he first got his license back in high school. Carpool karaoke has always been a must in his car, and that’s why you rode with Seohyun on your way back from the airport yesterday. You were a fool because nothing was quite as therapeutic as being silly and singing Disney songs at the top of your lungs with the only person who’s watched you grow into the adult you are today.

The drive to your destination isn’t long, but you still manage to squeeze in five songs before you get off and Chris speeds off. Only after wishing you a good day and making you promise you’ll call once you’re done so he can come pick you up, too. He was too kind, willing to do too much for you sometimes, but you were just the same. You’re afraid you might try moving the moon if he asked, one day.

Your annoying, overprotective brother who wasn’t really your brother, who’d push you into the pool before jumping in to save you in the same breath. He was such a guy.

Approaching with a prep to your step, the shelter’s surroundings have changed drastically since your last visit. The trees in the back have dyed their leaves in warm shades of orange and yellow, scattering some on the ground in hopes of attracting more pet lovers. A beautiful background always pulled people in, just like all pretty things did, and this autumn is particularly beautiful, with sights straight out of famous paintings. Seoul was truly a special city, one that’s nurtured and taught you the meaning of the word love that’s being thrown around too casually for your taste, these days. The city you grew up in, where you found your love for writing and composing, and where you met the most amazing people on this planet.

No other city could compare to your birthplace, no matter how pretty or modern it was.

Just as you make to try the door, with your apology speech all ready to go, it suddenly opens and forces you to take a few steps back in surprise.

“I’m sorry, we aren’t open yet.” The apology comes from a tall man, whose delicate features would have fooled you into believing he wasn’t older than a high schooler. Yet his physique begs to differ, you could tell even from beneath all the layers. He’s wearing the shelter’s apron with the logo you’ve had Jisung design a few years back. A new employee, perhaps? You don’t recognize him, so that’s most likely the case.

Your gaze travels upwards until it meets his brown eyes that fidget at the sudden contact. “Sorry, I’m here to see Mrs. Jeon?”

The stranger shakes his head, bleached blond hair hiding an undercut following his every move. “Mrs. Jeon is out of the country.”

You wait for him to continue, provide more details but when he doesn’t and only raises a brow that almost asks ‘what are you still doing here?’ you sigh and turn to leave. “Right. Will you please tell her Y/n has stopped by?”

“Wait, Y/n L/n?”

You turn right on your heel, both of your eyebrows raised as if to challenge his. “Do I know you?”

He brings his hands up, showing he means no harm as a smile finds his rosy lips, one you don’t truly grasp the meaning of. “No! But I know you.”

Alright, now you’re properly creeped out. Noticing the look on your face, the man quickly corrects himself, letting out an awkward laugh as he rubs the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not good with strangers. Mrs. Jeon does! I was recruited in your place when you didn’t come back in June.”

Oh, so he was your replacement. Great. You had no idea you’d entered a race to see how fast people and places you frequented could replace you during the summer. Very motivating and uplifting. You should have stayed home.

“Oh.” Despite all the thoughts overlapping each other in your head, you only manage to sigh, properly exhausted.

His eyes widen slightly, and without thinking, he grasps your elbow when you turn around to leave for good. “Please do come in! Mrs. Jeon has been waiting to hear from you. She left a note.”

“A note?” When he nods, you shake off his hand and accept the invitation, stepping inside filled with curiosity.

All of the furry friends were in the back, in a separate space away from the reception. The place was modern, decorated in warm, pastel colors that seemed to welcome you with a fuzzy hug, the surroundings pristine. Furry Friends Rescue was built from the ground up by Mrs Jeon’s late husband, who passed away a few years back, right after you started volunteering here. To honor his life, she kept this place running, making it her mission to find loving homes for all the animals that were brought in, investing most of her resources into modernizing the place and treating the animals like they deserved to be treated.

The shelter housed a veterinary office and a pet salon, run by other volunteers who were experts in their fields, students alike and even working people who would come by to offer a helping hand whenever they could. Mr Jeon was a vet – he used to treat all of the animals before he fell sick and became unable to work.

Making his way around the reception desk, which truly resembled the entrance of a corporation, even with all the pet pictures plastered on all the walls, and the dog pattern on the couch, the man picks up a note that was next to the bone-shaped phone.

“Here.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the small paper from him, but you don’t pay any attention to the slight color that appears on his cheeks.

Dear Y/n,

I hope your precious heart managed to heal during your trip

What fitting words for someone who had no idea why you left in the first place. Guess Mrs. Jeon knew you better than you thought, after all.

If you’re reading this, it means I have not yet returned from visiting my grandbabies. It also means Jaemin is the one looking after the place

Please work together until I’m back. He’s a nice kid and I believe you’ll get along well

That is if you’re still willing to return. Always put yourself first. If quitting is what you think is best, just know I’ll never hold it against you

With love, grandma J

P.S. there’s a surprise on the other side 😊

Curious, you flip over the page, eyes scanning the familiar handwriting to decipher what has she left you. A giggle escapes you soon after, shaking your head with fondness spilling from your eyes at her antics. You’re glad that after everything she’s been through, Mrs. Jeon has never changed.

“Is something funny?” The guy you’ve come to learn is named Jaemin asks from the other side of the desk, head tilted slightly in wonder making him resemble an actual puppy.

You dismiss him with a wave of your wrist, pocketing the note. Mrs. J’s brownie recipe you could never get enough of wouldn’t interest him anyway.

“So, you’re Jaemin?” You finally ask, giving him a once-over. He was tall, wearing a denim-on-denim outfit and smiled a little too brightly for your liking. Still, he did look like a nice guy, so you might as well give him a chance, even if meeting someone knew was the last thing you wanted to do.

As expected, he beams, thrusting a hand forward over the desk. “That’s me! Nice to meet you, Y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You give him a small but genuine smile and shake his hand. “I’m a third year at SNU so I usually volunteer here during summer vacation. I hope we get along.”

He nods, listening to your every word. “Yeah, Mrs. Jeon mentioned we go to the same university. I’m a second year majoring in dance! I’m also a part of the football team so I apologize in advance if I ever end up leaving you here all alone when the season starts.”

Oh, what were the odds?

Your smile drops despite your effort in not reacting, retracting your hand a little too quickly while nodding and trying to act as normal as possible. “Cool.”

Turning around, you begin walking in the opposite direction to escape from this awkward situation Mrs. J has unknowingly put you in.

“Shall we go see the animals?”

He’s on your tail soon after, grabbing another apron on the way for you with that ever present sunny smile of his. Jaemin reminded you of a hyperactive puppy, a golden retriever who would do anything to make you happy, pulling silly stunts and stumbling over his own feet.

Turns out, his bright personality isn’t the only reason Mrs. J has hired Jaemin. You spend the next four hours together, taking care of the animals and talking, to your surprise. They all seemed to love him already, causing a ruckus at the mere sight of him, excited to be let out and greet you both properly.  The puppies especially as they’d run back and forth from you to him without stopping for a while, barely managing to bottle feed them in their excitement. Jaemin was nice, and easy to talk to, happy to get to know you but also talk your ear off when sensing you might need a laugh, managing to make everything funny. A great pick me up, you ended up agreeing with Mrs J’s statement – he was a good guy, the best that could have replaced you and helped her and all the staff in your absence.

For some reason, he felt comfortable opening up to you, and in turn, you told him some things about yourself too.

“What made you want to volunteer here?” He suddenly asks while cradling a noisy kitten, the sight comical.

You barely think before answering, gaze still trained on the bichon that has fallen asleep in your lap while you were brushing her. “I wasn’t allowed to have pets growing up, and I’ve always loved them. I was lucky my best friend had the most adorable puppy in the world right next door, but it wasn’t the same as owning one, you know?”

Jaemin nods, finally calming the kitten, eyes on you. “Oh, that sucks. I couldn’t imagine life without my two babies at home.”

You look up, curious. “You have dogs?”

“Two cats.” He throws a peace sign, chuckling when you smile. “I’m from Busan, so I only get to see them on holidays. I thought coming here and helping out four days a week might help me miss them less.”

“And? Does it help?” You point to the kitten that has fallen asleep in his arms, head crocked to the side weirdly. Looking down, he laughs and sets her in his lap, using his knuckles to gently pet between her ears, one of his hands as big as her whole body.

“It does, actually.” He smiles absentmindedly, most likely reminiscing about his fur babies. “But only momentarily. When I’m back in my dorm room, I still feel their absence.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you say, a deep pang of sadness hitting you out of nowhere. You guess this is how Chris and Jisung feel as well, both away from their respective dogs they’ve more or less grown up with.

Jaemin shakes his head, still smiling and not as sad as you’d thought he’d be. “None of that. I facetime my mom every night just to see them.”

“That’s cute.” A smile finds its way on your face as you imagine him using the same baby voice he uses with the animals here on the phone with his mom, cooing at his cats.

“You’re cute.”

An uncharacteristic silence falls upon you as Jaemin searches for your gaze, dying to understand your reaction. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just weird, making you feel like you were doing something wrong. Which made no sense. Jisung and Chan called you cute all the time; not out of nowhere, but when the moment was right. Heck, Seohyun would write entire pages praising your beauty whenever you posted on Instagram – you knew you were cute. But this was different, this was someone that meant it romantically, you could tell. He was flirting with you, shooting his shot and seeing where it landed.

That wasn’t something you could reciprocate, especially not now.

When he notices the look in your eyes, the storm brewing behind them, he adds. “I was talking about Belle over there.”

You look down at Belle, the fluffy bichon in your lap, who is currently sleeping soundly on her back, tummy up and randomly kicking her feet once in a while, dreamland surely rowdy.

“Shut up.” You laugh a moment later, appreciating how fast he took the hint and backed off, leaning over to softly push him on the doggy mats, to which he pretends to fall just for your amusement.

With that out of the way, things return to normal quickly and before you know it, the other volunteers arrive and you’re biding Jaemin goodbye and going on your merry way, back to your apartment.

It’s afternoon now, hopefully your friends are awake by now.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

They were in fact, not awake. Jisung just moved himself from the spare bedroom he shared with Chris for the night to the living room couch to sleep some more, without having to deal with the other’s snoring. Seohyun was buried in your blanket, hiding from the world, in the same position she was in when you left that morning.

Like it or not, it seems their bodies were incapable of pulling all-nighters after doing it for so many years without suffering the day after. Hopefully, you all manage to fix your sleep schedules before your classes start properly, not wanting to miss too many and be left behind, confused out of your minds and barely figuring it out by the time exam season rolls around.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“I’m sleepy.” Seohyun complains, reaching up to rub her eyes before remembering the pretty eyeliner currently gracing her eyelids and stopping at the last second, groaning.

You giggle, full of energy from the coffee Chris made sure got into your system before your first class, swirling the ice in your cup absentmindedly, mind somewhere else.

Busy on his phone, he doesn’t even look up as he responds. “You barely made it to class this morning and you’re still complaining?”

Monday, 10:15 am. Your first class of the day officially ended fifteen minutes ago and as you’ve been doing for two years now, your friend group meet up at your favorite location, the diner closest to campus that has become some sort of sanctuary by now.

Seohyun was majoring in communication so she did not share your classes yet somehow, the four of you have started the new school year in the same way – with a boring, way too long 8 am lecture that almost erased your will to live.

She shoots him a dirty look he doesn’t notice, but otherwise doesn’t respond, too tired to bother with Chris and his top student agenda. Because being popular, good at sports and everyone’s friend wasn’t enough for him; your best friend was the academic weapon every freshman aspired to be, without trying too hard either. Hands down the most gifted and smartest person you know.

“You did go to bed super late last night.” You reach for her hand across the table, gently massaging her palm in hopes she’ll feel a bit better.

Just then, Jisung returns with your drinks, handing them out one by one like he was a barista himself. When he’s done and you all thank him, he takes his seat across from you and Chris, next to Seohyun. “What did I miss?”

“Seohyun was complaining.” Chris responds instantly, fingers typing away. What could be more interesting than spending time with your closest friends?

“Oh, so nothing new.”

At the same time, you softly smack the back of Chris’ head while she smacks Jisung, with a little more force, only the latter reacting loudly.

“Stop being mean.” You reprimand, and Chris puts his phone down with a sigh, leaning back in his chair to stretch his arms above his head.

“For your information, being late was not my fault.” Seohyun chimes in, finally in the mood to explain herself after taking several sips of her coffee. “This random guy ran straight into me, I was tackled to the ground!”

Concern flashes over your features. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, don’t worry. He helped me up and gathered all of my books while apologizing. Then I met up with Ji and he carried my bag to class.”

Both you and Chris shoot Jisung a curious look, not convinced he went through all of that trouble out of the kindness of his own heart.

“In my defense,” Jisung shrugs, his arm thrown over the booth behind Seohyun’s head, “I really did not want to come to class.”

Chris chuckles and sips from his strawberry milkshake while you shake your head, smiling and pinching the back of Jisung’s hand that was resting on the table, to which he retaliates by throwing the straw paper in your face.

“To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention either so he’s not entirely to blame here.” She continues like neither of you has said anything, resting her head in her palm with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Besides, he was fucking gorgeous. I swear I’ve never seen such a beautiful man before. And his freckles? Literal constellations right on his cheeks, oh my god.”

“Okay, Juliet, pipe down.” Jisung flicks her forehead and she swats his hand away, glaring.

Amused, you lean closer with interest. “Did you get his name?”

She shakes her head. “No” Then, her gaze moves to Chris. “That’s why, I need you to find him for me.”

Raising a brow, he reaches for your drink to have a taste before responding. “What am I, the local newspaper? You’re the one who bumped into him.”

“Yes, but you literally know everyone on campus.”

He makes a face, deeming your drink too bitter for his taste. “So do you.”

That was true. Seohyun was the definition of a social butterfly, mingling with all cliques and being liked by everyone she came into contact with. However, she was also very perceptive so if someone’s vibe seemed off, she could come across as cold and aloof, not giving them the time of day.

“Please?” She continues, resorting to the infamous puppy eyes. “This guy might be the love of my life, Chris, please help me.”

“What about Mark?” Jisung buts in, giving her a questioning look. Immediately, you and Chris signal for him to cut it out, abort the ship and never utter that name for as long as he draws breath.

Seohyun’s gaze drops to her cup, manicured finger moving back and forth on the edge, pretending she didn’t hear any of the words that have left Jisung’s mouth. To his credit, Jisung looks a little guilty, arm sliding over her shoulder and squeezing briefly in a silent apology, hoping it will be enough to fix things.

The probability of this mystery guy being the love of her life was low, but Chris seemed to feel bad enough to give in, exhaling deeply. Seohyun’s track record wasn’t great – for some reason, she always fell for emotionally unavailable guys, with her latest situationship ending not too long ago once she realized Mark did not want anything serious.

She didn’t deserve all that. Seohyun was the sweetest, kindest person you knew, with a heart of gold. If anyone deserved to find true love and grow old with rosy cheeks, still feeling butterflies at the mention of her beloved’s name no matter how many years passed, it was her. And you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make that happen.

“Let’s find this pretty boy of yours.” You smile as Chris nods, enjoying the way her face gradually lights up.

“Really?”

“I’d feel like I kicked a puppy while it was down if I didn’t, so what the hell. We’ve done crazier things anyways.” Chris adds and she squeals, getting out of the booth to come over and hug him, suddenly excited.

“Oh!” She rushes back to her seat, instantly rummaging through her bag. “This is his. I think it got mixed up with my books when I dropped them. He was in a hurry.”

The three of you huddle together as she places a small notebook on the table, curious about its contents that might reveal the identity of Seohyun’s prospective new…something. Let’s hope boyfriend, and nobody that treats her less than that.

Chris is the one who dares open it, flipping through the pages in wonder.

“These are…recipes?” He blinks, drawing a blank as the measurements for the perfect ‘gooey brownies’ stare him right in the face.

None of you says anything for a moment, the gears in your head turning and working simultaneously before Jisung breaks the silence with an unexpected outburst.

“Oh my god, he’s a fucking loser!”

Safe to say, he got smacked a couple more times before your next class of the day. Lovingly, of course.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

With everyone promising to ask around for Seohyun’s prince charming, you go on with your day until your last class, when you established to meet again for a little get together with all of your other friends.

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm, golden hue that extended throughout the whole campus, creating mesmerizing surroundings you could barely look away from. Thankfully by now, you’re outside, enjoying the warm breeze and nice weather that might not return any time soon as the days will only continue to get shorter and shorter as time passes.

You’re currently near the football field, cutting through near the bleachers to get to the other side where Chris and his swimming team are currently meeting. Seohyun is skipping a few feet in front of you, obviously in good spirits.

“Didn’t know Chris needed a chaperone.” She teases, turning to you with a smile as she starts walking backwards.

You chuckle. “Well, he is our ride.”

“We could have walked.” She stretches her arms as if to prove a point. “It’s such a beautiful day! It’s a shame we have to miss out on the rest of it, too.”

You were on your way to a bar, a new one that opened all the way in Hongdae. The owner has invited 3racha, Chris and Jisung’s music group personally, so it would be rude to not show up, even if you did share her sentiment. If it were up to you, you’d be in bed, snuggling already, but your friends have made it a point to keep you out of the house as much as possible.

“Just say thank you, Seohyun.”

“Thank you, Seohyun, for being the hottest girl around!”

You both laugh, enjoying each other’s company before she turns back around and resumes her skipping, long, bleached hair flowing freely behind her in the prettiest way. As you reach for your phone to record her for memories, a speck of red gets your attention in an instant.

You keep walking but your eyes are glued to the field now, to the eight or so guys dressed in the white and red uniform of your university’s American football team. Your heart rate picks up in an instant, scanning their jersey numbers in a hurry.

Relief floods your system when you don’t find what you’re looking for, slowing down. These guys looked young, most likely freshmen trying out for a spot in the most famous football team your university has had in years. You didn’t know how that worked, your memory failed you as you tried to remember when tryouts took place. It seemed a little too early for all that though, too soon to be looking for new people when the season kicked off somewhere in October, a good month and a half away. You couldn’t help but wonder why the hurry.

“Y/n! Watch out!”

Seohyun’s screaming startles you out of your thoughts, your eyes coming into focus to see a football flying right in your direction, quickly approaching your head. Before you know it, you’re ducking and running, feeling bad for snoozing and interfering with practice. Of course, this had to happen, you were cursed after all. You could never be near a sports field without something hitting you, no matter how small or insignificant the object, it always had to make contact with your face.

However, you don’t make it very far before you come to an abrupt stop as you collide with something or better said, someone, the impact causing you to stumble a few steps back until rough, gloved hands stabilize you by the shoulders.

When you regain your footing and finally look up at your saviour, your heart actually stops.

Because the one looking back, right through you is none other than Hyunjin. Your Hyunjin.

Or actually, he wasn’t yours anymore, now, was he?

Hyunjin who’s written his name across your heart in golden letters, that suddenly lit up at the mere sight of him. Your ex-boyfriend looked almost unrecognizable, his short black hair replaced by long, bleached locks that were pushed back, away from his face in a little ponytail.

You were a fool to think he wouldn’t be here. He was the captain after all and the coach was nowhere in sight.

The air wasn’t entering your lungs anymore, yet somehow you were still breathing, being kept afloat by his familiar hands on your skin, so overly conscious of his touch that you barely registered the shiver running down your spine.

After three months apart with no communication, Hyunjin was finally looking at you, forced to acknowledge your presence. It felt a little surreal, bumping into him so soon. Sure, you were expecting it, but not on your very first day back to campus, not when you still haven’t processed the fact that you weren’t together anymore. Everything in you longed for him and all his endearing quirks, even after all this time; even after he broke your heart.

You don’t dare look away, and neither does he, enthralled by those beautiful eyes of his that used to watch your every move with so much love and care. Now, you don’t see any of these emotions, but there is an intensity to his gaze that you can’t quite put your finger on. Time always seemed to come to a stop when you were with him and right now it was no different. All of your surroundings faded, leaving him the sole object of your attention.

There was a new piercing adorning his face, right under his bleached eyebrow. It looked good, like everything he deemed worthy enough to leave a mark on his body. But that wasn’t what got your heart beating again, pounding against your ribcage at an alarming pace he was sure to hear even from afar.

Without looking away, his hands slide down your arms slowly, and for a brief moment, you think they’re going to find solace in yours, just like they’ve done for all these years. By the surprise flickering in his eyes, you believe he thought of the same thing, catching himself at the last second and taking a step back, arms falling to his side heavily.

“Yo, what the fuck was that?” A new voice has you both snapping out of it, finally allowing you to look away and escape the staring war neither had the resources to win. It’s familiar, and as someone stops right by your side, seemingly out of nowhere, there’s no doubt in your mind about his identity.

“Y/n, are you okay?

You blink, and the magic from before finally dissipates completely, almost like the spell Hyunjin has got you under broke the moment he made himself busy by reaching for his helmet on the ground. When you manage to tear your eyes from him, Yeonjun, one of his friends and teammates, comes into view and places a hand on your shoulder in concern. The ball that almost collided with your head is under his other arm, and you notice that he’s not wearing his gloves as he should be.

Eventually, you nod, looking straight into his eyes while mustering your most convincing smile. “Yeah, don’t worry. Nothing even happened.”

“It almost did.” He states, glaring towards the group of men who seemed glued on the spot. “If it weren’t for Hyunjin, things might have ended badly.”

You look away, not knowing how to act around them anymore. Hyunjin doesn’t respond either, just moves out of the way as Seohyun sprints to your rescue, pulling your body into the tightest hug and putting some distance between you and the two men.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere, right?” She’s instantly checking you all over, dusting invisible dirt off your clothes before patting your head lovingly, just like a mother would do to comfort her sobbing child. Truthfully speaking, you weren’t far from turning into one, but the mortification of bursting into tears in front of all these people kept your emotions in check. You reckon a football to the face would have hurt less than having Hyunjin treat you like a stranger he’s meeting for the first time, barely reacting to your sudden appearance.

In hindsight, him reacting differently was almost impossible. Especially in the way you’d want him to react. Hyunjin had changed right before your very eyes in the last months before your relationship ended, burying his sweet and sensitive nature so deep down that you feared it might have gotten erased permanently.

Grasping her hands, you nod to calm her racing mind. “I’m fine, mom.” Then, you turn to Yeonjun again. “Sorry for interrupting practice like that. I should have been more careful.”

You hear Hyunjin scoff from somewhere behind you, still not brave enough to show his face, while Yeonjun shakes his head vehemently. “Nonsense. You did nothing wrong. Those guys though? They did plenty.”

He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before excusing himself to join said guys, voice loud and annoyed. “Who were you passing that to? Are you fucking blind or just stupid?”

Yeonjun had no authority over them, not like Hyunjin did anyway. But he was still a seasoned player, one that’s been with the team for two years, so his words carried significant weight. He was a year older than all of you yet only decided to give football a chance in his second year, joining the team at the same time as Hyunjin. Their roles on the team were the opposite of each other – while Hyunjin was on the offensive, Yeonjun was a defensive player in charge of keeping the other team as far away as possible. Yet, they clicked and worked so well together that the probability of SNU losing a game with both of them present was close to none.

Bonding outside the field proved just as easy and before you knew it, Yeonjun became one of Hyunjin’s treasured friends, bringing their envied teamwork to more events than necessary.

For these guys to have a chance before the coach, they first needed to impress these two. And one thing about Hyunjin was that he was very hard to impress, especially in the areas he excelled in.

Your eyes naturally gravitate towards him along with your thoughts, his magnetic field still as strong as always. To your utter surprise, he moved to stand a little further away, facing his potential new teammates.

“Who threw that?”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to overwhelm you, suddenly way too emotional to keep still, to manage to keep your cool and act as nonchalant as he was. You haven’t heard that voice in so long, you’re sure you’d have collapsed if he as much as uttered your name.

Your name on his tongue has always been your favorite sound, no other word ever coming close to having that same effect.

Sheepishly, one of the guys steps forward while rubbing the back of their necks, visibly taken aback by the coldness in Hyunjin’s voice.

Hyunjin’s eyes narrow just as Seohyun links her arm through yours and tugs your body closer.

“Apologize.”

“Yes, captain!” He nods instantly, bowing repeatedly in Hyunjin’s direction to show exactly how sorry he feels for disappointing him. “I’m –“

“Not to me.” Hyunjin crosses his arms over wide chest, shoulder blade plates making him look even more intimidating as he stands to his full height, rolling his eyes. “To her.”

Your eyes widen as the guy looks up, searching for you with confusion visible even through his big helmet. Hesitantly, he changes targets, stopping before you and Seohyun.

“Hyunjin – “ You manage to squeak out, hating the way your voice almost gets caught in your throat, heat rushing to your face.

“Let him apologize.” His gaze travels to you leisurely, impatience clear in usual doe eyes.

But you aren’t far behind, a little annoyed by his insistence, managing to pull yourself together to counter. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“And last I checked, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” As quick-witted as always, Hyunjin isn’t even looking at you anymore, not bothering to react in any other way, like you weren’t even worth getting annoyed at. “He made a mistake that under normal circumstances, could have cost us the game. He needs to own up to it and apologize not only to you but to his teammates as well.”

Then, the guy seems to get smaller under his sharp gaze, instantly dropping into a deep bow and obeying Hyunjin’s words to a T. “I’m so sorry for throwing the ball in your direction!” In the next second, he’s spinning around and bowing to the other guys as Seohyun struggles to keep in her laughter at his next words. “I’m sorry for being an idiot!”

To his credit, Hyunjin hasn’t addressed him as such, always one to keep things professional. Yet, you notice the slight twitch of his mouth, obviously pleased and amused as Yeonjun bursts out laughing.

The guys bow in return, and suddenly they’re all shouting apologies at each other, owning up to all of the little mistakes they’ve made up until now that might’ve inconvenienced the other in some way, feeling bad for possibly giving anyone a hard time.

Not being able to hold it in anymore, your best friend almost collapses from laughter, needing to walk it off to calm down, only to start again as she locks eyes with Yeonjun a little farther away.

You’re so taken aback that you don’t even know how to react, watching the scene before you as flabbergasted as one could get. It was wholesome to see these kids already acting like a team but a part of you couldn’t help but feel bad once it remembered none might actually get to play and represent their university on the field. Hyunjin was trying to instil some discipline into them, but at what cost? What was the point?

Just as you’re contemplating everything that happened, the eight guys suddenly stop and turn to bow in Hyunjin’s direction as well, apologizing at the same time like it’s an activity they’ve rehearsed beforehand. It gets quiet as they wait for an answer, not even daring to raise their heads and see Hyunjin’s reaction, just patiently waiting for the go ahead so they can go back to practice.

Since when was Hyunjin running this team like the fucking marines?

Despite not looking at him, when Hyunjin nods they all stand to their full heights before him, awaiting further instructions. The mood shifts, all tense and serious like they weren’t sweet and wholesome just a moment ago.

“Since none of you seem able to handle one of these yet,” he barely finishes his sentence before Yeonjun passes him the ball, catching it with ease to hold up for the others to see. It all happened so quickly and naturally, that the others most likely didn’t notice, but you did. Hyunjin isn’t using his dominant hand. “you’ll be running laps until the coach gets here. Whoever is not up for it, drop your gears – you’re out.”

You’re expecting complaints and groans in protest but instead, they all nod and succumb to their miserable fates, doing exactly what Hyunjin has instructed. A little further away, you notice Yeonjun laughing without shame, having a blast at their expense.

“Asshole.” Seohyun murmurs, rolling her eyes, and you’re unsure who she’s talking about. “Let’s go. Any more time and Chris will send his speedo wearing army out in the wild to look for us.”

You want to laugh, to agree, and turn your back on this incident and leave without a word. But you can’t, feet lodged into place like you were standing on the biggest patch of mud around.

Hyunjin’s back was already to you, form cladded in that familiar uniform you’ve felt under your fingertips for years. The 20 under his surname written in capital letters on his jersey were almost mocking you, mad for holding their twin hostage in your mess of a closet. It doesn’t matter – in a month or so, they’ll be replaced in favour of a new design that comes around every new season. Just like your presence in his life will inevitably be filled by someone else; someone better, capable of loving him at his worst.

You had so much to say, so many words eager to escape and latch onto him, to get his attention and feed from it, growing bolder and more desperate with every second spent by his side. Hyunjin always brought the best out of you – until he broke things off. Then everything just came to a stop. Like someone lifted the stylus off of a vinyl before the song got the chance to come to an end, damaging the record and your ears in the process.

You loved music but suddenly, your life was quiet.

Hyunjin has been your muse for the entirety of your relationship, all of your songs based on him and the love that managed to blossom thanks to your shared effort. The butterflies and the fireworks all faded without a trace, making your music sound bland and meaningless, off-key since the one who inspired it was no longer there.

You wanted to call out his name, get him to stop and not leave you behind again but you didn’t know how, unable to without bursting into tears and breaking down for everyone to see. Hyunjin has been a part of your life for so many years, how were you ever supposed to start acting like he never was? Erasing him and the mark he left would surely be impossible without a potion of sorts, some Eternal Sunshine mechanism that will ensure your brain will be tricked into believing he was never here, to begin with.

Seohyun is off to the side, giving you the space needed to put your thoughts in order, for your next move. This was your chance, the moment you’ve been waiting for.

But you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t run after him no matter how loudly your heart was screaming in protest.

So, you turn around and latch onto your best friend as she begins pulling you along, quick to come to your rescue as always. Struggling to keep it together, with tears welling up in your eyes, you miss the way he turns to look in your direction one more time. One last time.

You’ve always believed Hyunjin was the love of your life, the one you’d grow old holding hands with.

Now, your perspective has changed, as did the main character role he has played in your story for the past five years. No longer was he the charming male lead, the prince coming in on a white horse to swoop you off your feet in a grand gesture of romance.

Hyunjin was the loss of your life. The one that managed to get away even with the tight grip you’ve tried to keep on his heart.

Hyunjin transformed into a background character that won’t be there for the ride, and won’t get to witness the new developments happening from now on in your life.

You would have rather been the one written off the story if it meant keeping him. Unfortunately, that was not a possibility since without you, there wouldn’t be a story to begin with.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

[chelseaknoo]

OKAY, SO HOW ABOUT THIS IDEA: The reader is Eminem’s assistant (with major office siren vibes), and Marshall quickly becomes intrigued by her. He finds her serious, focused personality incredibly attractive and can’t resist flirting with her at every opportunity. While she finds his advances annoying and stays professional, underneath it all, there’s a spark she tries to ignore.And at the end they end up together 😍😍😍

Eminem x assistant!Reader

Caution: sexual content ♡

Note:this is the most creative request I’ve ever seen…And I love it!

The famous Detroit rapper, Eminem, was your boss—and working as his assistant was nothing short of stressful. It wasn’t just the demands of the job that made it challenging; it was the fact that your boss seemed to have a noticeable attraction toward you.

He often flirted openly, dropping sly comments and playful remarks, sometimes catching you off guard when you were trying to focus. His advances weren’t limited to private settings either—he’d casually ask you out on dates even in front of his friends, leaving you flustered and unsure of how to respond.

One memorable incident occurred when you accidentally dropped a stack of papers. As you bent down to pick them up, you felt the unmistakable touch of his hand coming into harsh contact with your ass. Turning around quickly, you met his mischievous smirk. "Couldn’t help myself," he had said, his voice dripping with casual confidence.

Despite how overwhelming his behavior could be, there was something undeniably magnetic about him. You tried to maintain a professional exterior, brushing off his advances and focusing on the work at hand. But deep down, his charm was difficult to ignore. Every teasing word, every lingering glance, left a tension between you that neither of you could deny.

One day, while you were busy at the printer, you heard Marshall call out, "Hey, come over here for a sec." Sighing and feeling a bit irritated, you left your work and walked over to him.

“What is it, Marshall?” you asked, trying to keep the impatience out of your voice.

He leaned back in his chair, giving you a playful look. "Come sit on my lap," he said, patting his leg as if it were the most casual request in the world.

Your eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not,” you replied, crossing your arms defiantly.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Alright, but I might have to dock a little of your pay if you don’t."

You hesitated, glaring at him. “Are you serious?”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “I’m always serious,” he replied with a mischievous grin. You knew he was probably joking, but the thought of him actually cutting your pay made you huff in annoyance.

Reluctantly, you lowered yourself onto his lap, trying to keep your posture as stiff and professional as possible. Sitting there, you couldn’t help but notice how close his face was to your chest, and the look in his eyes made your cheeks warm.

"There. Happy?" you asked, avoiding his gaze.

Marshall gave a low chuckle, clearly pleased with himself. "Very," he replied, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looked up at you. “You’re always so serious… It’s kinda cute, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to smile back. "Are you done now?"

He shrugged, still smirking. “Maybe… but I think I’m starting to like having you this close.”

Despite yourself, you felt a small flutter of excitement. But you kept your expression neutral, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under your skin.

He leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your neck as his lips brushed softly over your skin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve slipping. His hand moved up to gently caress the soft locks of your hair, his fingers threading through with surprising tenderness. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you found yourself blushing, unable to ignore the rush of feelings that washed over you.

Marshall lifted his head and looked into your eyes, a mix of mischief and sincerity flickering in his gaze. Before you could say anything, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. You felt your heart race, and despite every intention to keep things professional, you couldn’t help but melt into the moment.

His other hand cupped your face, and you instinctively reached up, placing one of your hands on the side of his face. The stubble on his jawline tickled your fingertips, grounding you in the reality of what was happening. The kiss deepened, growing more intense, as if the two of you were releasing every unspoken word and every stolen glance that had built up between you.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths were ragged, and neither of you spoke for a moment. Marshall’s thumb traced small circles on your cheek, and he gave you a lopsided grin. "You know," he murmured softly, "you really do drive me crazy."

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say, but knowing deep down that everything between you had just changed in ways you couldn’t ignore.

Without another word, you found yourself leaning back into the kiss, your hand sliding around to the back of his neck to pull him closer. The chair creaked under his weight, but it didn’t matter—you were lost in the moment. His hand slipped from your hair to the small of your back, drawing you closer still, until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. The feeling was overwhelming, but in that moment, all you could do was give in to it.

Marshall’s hands began to roam, exploring the curves of your body with an urgency that seemed to match your own. You felt his hand move up to your waist, and he began to lift you up slightly, adjusting you on his lap so that you were straddling him. The fabric of your skirt rustled as you moved, and you felt a thrill at the thought of someone walking in on you—the scandal of it all.

The chair groaned in protest as you shifted your weight, but you were too lost in the sensation of his hands on your body to care. His kisses grew more demanding, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that made your head spin. You could feel his desire pressing against you, and it was all you could do not to moan out loud.

Your own hands found their way under his shirt, feeling the warm, firm planes of his abs. His skin was surprisingly soft, and you couldn’t help but trace your fingertips over the tattoos that adorned his body. He sucked in a sharp breath as you touched a particularly sensitive spot, and you felt a surge of power knowing that you could elicit such a reaction from him.

Marshall’s hands moved up to your low cut blazer, deftly unbuttoning it with one hand while his other arm held you steady.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his eyes dark with desire as they searched yours for permission. You nodded, your own eyes glazed with lust, and he took that as the invitation he needed. His mouth descended to your neck, kissing and nipping as he unbuttoned your shirt and pushed it aside to expose your black lace bra. His hand slipped under the fabric to squeeze your flesh gently, and you gasped at the contact.

The chair rocked slightly as he adjusted you on his lap, his hands moving to the clasp of your bra. With a swift motion, he unhooked it, and it fell away, revealing your breasts to the cool office air. He took one in his hand, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak before taking it into his mouth. You threw your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips, as the sensation sent waves of pleasure through your body.

Your own hands had been busy, too—they found the hem of his shirt and began to lift it over his head, revealing his toned torso and the tapestry of tattoos that covered his chest. You traced the ink with your fingertips, feeling the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart beneath. His muscles flexed as he removed the shirt entirely, tossing it aside.

With your bodies now fully engaged, you both seemed to be in a silent understanding of where this was heading. You reached down and unbuckled his belt, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. The button of his pants followed, and you slid the zipper down, freeing his hardened length. He groaned against your skin, his teeth grazing the soft mound of your breast as he tasted you.

You pushed his pants and boxers down, and he adjusted his position, lifting you slightly to align your bodies. The anticipation was thick as you felt the head of his erection at your entrance. The chair’s leather was cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building between you. With a gentle thrust, he filled you, and you couldn’t help but gasp as you took him in.

The chair rocked rhythmically under the weight of your passion, the sound muffled by the thick office carpet. His hands gripped the armrests tightly as he began to move his hips, his eyes locked on yours, searching for every sign of pleasure. You wrapped your legs around him, grinding down to meet each thrust, the friction sending sparks of sensation through your core.

The leather of the chair was cold and unforgiving against your bare skin, but the heat from Marshall’s body and the passion burning between you was more than enough to warm you. Each time he entered you, a gasp would escape your lips, and he seemed to take it as a challenge to make the next one louder.

Your hands had moved from his neck to his broad shoulders, gripping tightly as his hips drove into you. The chair groaned in time with your movements, the rhythmic sound a testament to the intensity building within. The office around you faded away, the only reality being the two of you, entwined and moving together as one.

Marshall’s grip tightened on your hips, his breathing growing ragged as he fought to keep his strokes slow and measured. You could feel his restraint, his desire to let go and take you harder, faster, but he held back, savoring the moment. His eyes never left yours, a silent promise that he would never let you fall.

With each deep plunge, you felt your orgasm building, the tension coiling in your belly like a tight spring. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to spill out, not wanting to be caught in such a compromising position by anyone who might walk in. But the pleasure was too intense, and soon you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as the spring inside you snapped, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You threw your head back, letting out a loud moan. Marshall’s eyes widened, and he paused for a moment, looking at you with a mix of surprise and admiration before leaning in to capture your mouth again.

He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. The chair creaked and swayed precariously, echoing the intensity of the moment. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck as he kissed and nibbled, his hands now squeezing your ass as he pushed you down onto him, filling you completely.

The room was a blur of passion, the only clear focus the two of you and the chair that was now the stage of your forbidden act.

“I guess I should get back to work,” you said, reluctantly standing up from his lap and straightening your clothes. You tried to keep your tone light, but there was no hiding the lingering warmth in your cheeks.

Marshall leaned back in his chair, a playful glint still in his eyes. “Or,” he began, a slow smile spreading across his face, “you could take the day off and spend it with me.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And what about all the work piling up on my desk?” you teased, though a part of you was tempted by the idea.

He waved a dismissive hand, as if it were the simplest problem in the world. “Forget about it. Work can wait.” Then, he leaned forward, his expression softening. “Come on. Don’t worry—I’ll still pay you for the day.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You really know how to sweeten the deal, don’t you?”

“Is it working?” he asked, tilting his head, a touch of hopefulness in his voice.

You pretended to consider it, tapping your chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Hmm… I suppose a day off might not be the worst thing in the world.”

He grinned, standing up and closing the distance between you in one stride. “That’s what I like to hear. So… what do you say? Just you, me, and no distractions?”

You hesitated for a split second before nodding. “Alright. You win.”

Marshall’s smile widened as he reached for your hand. “Good. I promise you won’t regret it.” And with that, the two of you stepped away from the confines of work, ready to see where the day would lead. <3

[kimuzostar]

YOU CAN'T HIDE ii

⊱ bountyhunter!terry x black fem reader ⊰ ⊱ warnings: 18+, smut, degradation kink, pregnancy scare, mention of clinic visit, slight choking, stalking aspects, slight dom!terry and more i forgot ⊰ ⊱ probably the last part for this, i don't know... writing smut scares me because i'm bad at it ⊰ enjoy

A few weeks have passed of you being on the run. The media coverage of the robbery had died down; yet you were still on edge. 

Not about the robbery but about him.

“When I catch you again, I won’t be as nice.”

 His words replayed over and over in your head. You felt them deep in your stomach, just like his di-

No, no, no. You will not allow a man to be the proprietor of your downfall. 

After he left, you gathered your things and immediately headed for the nearest bus station. You brought a ticket to Arondale, another small town about four hours away. You needed to put distance between the two of you. 

As you boarded the bus, you had an eerie feeling of being watched. You turn and see a truck. His truck. 

Its lights cut on and it rapidly sped off in the opposite direction. 

You let out a sigh of relief. 

Now you could live in peace….. or so you thought. 

You were currently bent over the toilet of your dingy motel room. The entire contents of your stomach emptied out before you. 

For the last 5 or so days, you’ve been unable to hold down any food, certain smells cause you to gag, and you’ve been over emotional about every little thing. 

The tenant next door was not being of any help as he didn’t seem to know how to lower his volume. Constantly playing loud music and talking loudly. Every time you went to complain, he would get quiet and not answer his door. 

The one time you did see him, his back was turned to you as he got in his car. You wish you would’ve saw his face so you could flip it off. 

You were trying not to think the worst, brushing it off to a persistent stomach bug. But your period was late and that wasn’t making anything more comforting. 

“There’s no fucking way!”, you whisper to yourself. 

There’s no way you could possibly be pregnant by a man you don’t even know. A man whose face you’ve never even seen. You didn’t need any of this right now. 

Gathering yourself, you pull up to look in the mirror. Your curly hair wild, eyes shadowed with bags and your plump lips were chapped. You were a mess. 

You needed a pregnancy test. There was a small market across the street. You gathered your jacket and headed out. 

-

The market was stocked; having every essential one might need. 

You grabbed a buggy. You were going to get everything you needed so if you get the worst, you wouldn’t have to come out for a while. 

As you turn down one of the aisles, you bump into someone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” you say. 

Looking up, you see it’s your loud next door tenant. He’s wearing shades with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. A perfect set of 32s. 

“That’s no bother, just don’t do it again,” he replies. 

Already aggravated, you didn’t have the energy to play into his games. You continue along the aisle, paying him no more attention. 

Scanning the items, you finally find what you’re looking for; a clear blue pregnancy test. You grab it, biting your lower lip out of nervousness. 

Taking a step backwards, you run into what feels like a brick wall. A pair of arms surround you, the hands covering yours over the test. They lift them so the owner can take a closer look. 

“A pregnancy test. Who dis fa?”, the person says. 

You push back, turning to see who it is. 

It’s the tenant again. 

“Don’t fucking touch me and it’s none of your fucking business.”

He laughs, taking off his shades to get a better look at you. 

“I think it’s a lot of my business considering I could be a daddy.”  

Fuck, those eyes. 

It was him. The bounty hunter. 

Terry stood before you, smiling so big that his eyes disappeared. His hair was cut low, his skin bronzed by the sun. 

He was beautiful. 

You were frozen, unable to properly process what was going on. You wanted to run but your body wouldn’t move. You have many questions but your mouth wouldn’t move. 

“You look surprised. What’s wrong?”, he says jokingly. 

You finally get the push to speak. 

“You’re not the only person I’ve been with so you’re probably not the father”, you lie. 

Terry raises one of his eyebrows. “Is that so?”, he says. 

“Yes, so you can go away now”, you reply. 

“Nah, I’m curious about the results. Let's get back to your room”, he says walking towards the registers.

Your shoulders sunk. There was no way of this. 

-

Terry watched every step of you take your test; standing in the bathroom doorway like a bouncer. 

You avoided eye contact, feeling vulnerable about the current situation. 

“What does it say?”, he asks. 

“I don’t know, the instructions say there’s a 20 minute wait,” you reply. 

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling in thought. 

“What should we name it? I’m thinking Junior for a boy and Jasmi for a girl”, he says, smiling. 

You scoff. 

“You have lost your black ass mind if you think I’m having a baby with you. Plus, you don’t even know if this is your baby. The only thing I’m worried about is what clinic I need to go to”, you say. 

You peek at him through your lashes. He stood arms crossed, no longer smiling. You could cut the tension with a knife. 

“I’ve been watching you for weeks. There is no other man”, he says. 

“How did you find me? I left Springville weeks ago, it should’ve been impossible for you to find me here.”

Terry smiles, a laugh erupting deep from within his chest. 

“I never stopped following you, you’re just too fucking stupid to realize it. I followed your bus all the way here. I’ve been staying next door the whole time.”, he chuckles. 

You stood there dumbfounded. The clogs in your brain jammed and you were unable to produce a coherent thought. 

The loud music, the loud talking, the man entering the car. All him. 

“Are you actually insane? Do you not hear how ridiculous you sound? What’s not clicking?”, you say. 

Terry’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion. 

“Why are you so mad? I never told you I was going to leave you alone. I said when I catch you, not if I catch. You’re my problem until I feel you’re sorted out,” he says. “You were warned yet you still can’t hide.”

He stepped towards you. You step back and he follows you until you hit the wall. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. You shiver at the contact. 

“Do I scare you?”, he asks, tracing a circle on your hip. 

Feigning dominance, you respond, “No, I’m not scared of you.”

You were definitely afraid of him. 

“I’m not afraid of a bubbling moron that goes around stalking people, unable to act like an adult,” you continue. 

You see Terry’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh. He pulls back, trailing the hand on your hip up to your neck. He wraps it around, squeezing slightly. You can feel your nipples harden through your shirt. 

”As long as you’re here, I won’t ever leave you alone. Deal with it”, he says. 

The statement causes you to look down at the floor. The thought of him bothering you forever was too much to bear. 

Terry lifts your chin so you can meet his eyes. You’re stuck, unable to look away; almost like you were being hypnotized. 

He kisses you, his mouth engulfing yours. His lips were so soft, citing a moan from you. His hands slide their way to your butt. He squeezes, pulling you flesh against his body. 

He picks you up, walking you over to the bed. He places you down, still not breaking the kiss. 

Your tongues fight for power, neither of you wanting to fall to the other. 

“Take these off”, he says tugging at your pants. 

You oblige, removing your shirt, pants and underwear. He does the same, allowing you to finally get a good look at his body. 

He was chiseled by the gods. His shoulders were large, coupled with a six pack and a deep v-line leading down to a hung dick. 

Terry hovers over you, settling his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. His fingers begin to rub up and down your pussy, softly grazing over your clit. 

He plunges two fingers in you. He licks from your collarbone to the shell of your ear. He gives it a kiss. 

“Still as tight as last time. There’s no way somebody else been in here,” he teases in your ear. 

“Would’ve been better than you anyways,” you reply. 

Terry freezes. He pulls his fingers out of you, lifting his head up to stare in your eyes. The stoic expression is back. 

Uh oh. 

He sits back, using your hips to flip you on your stomach. His hands find your hair and he pushes your face into the mattress. He straddles you, his other hand on your back.  You can feel his dick resting on your ass. 

“I’ve been being really nice. I don’t appreciate all this back talk,” he says. 

“If you stop talking so much shit then maybe we wouldn’t have that problem,” you reply. 

Terry pushes you further into the mattress, leaning in closer to your face. 

“Apologize and mayb-“, he starts. 

“Fuck you”, you spit, cutting him off. 

With no warning, he slams into you, taking a pause so you can adjust around him. 

His grip loosens from your hair, wrapping it around to cover your mouth. He lowers the rest of his body on you, trapping you between him and the mattress. 

“You don’t know how to shut up and be a good girl. Always got that bitchy attitude. That’s ok, I can fix that”, he says with a smile. 

He begins to thrust into you, hard. The position made it feel like he was poking your lungs. 

“Can’t nobody fuck this pussy like I can.”

He would pull up, only leaving the tip; rolling his hips, before thrusting back in. He kept moving over your spot; it felt like scratching an itch slowly.

“Talking all that big shit, say something now,” he urges, removing his hand. 

All you could respond with was a moan. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t form any words. He was fucking you dumb. 

You began to pant, feeling out of breath; that familiar knot growing in your stomach. 

Terry shifts, the change of angle reaching a new dept within you. 

“Cumming,” you say with an exasperated sigh. He continued to fuck you through it, making it feel like it was going on forever. 

“That’s what I thought”, he says. 

Terry flips over to his side, taking you with him. He grabs the back of your knee, pulling it up to your ear. He slides back into you, feeling even deeper than before. 

“Ah, fuck, that feels so fucking good”, you say. 

“You are mine, this pussy is mine, all MINE. You belong to me,” he growls, planting a kiss on your knee.  

You nodded. The words sounding like music to your ears. If this was the kind of dick you’d get everyday, you thought it wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, you know he wasn’t going to leave you alone anytime soon. Especially if you had a baby on the way. 

“You will be a slut for me, whether you like it or not  

He kept slamming into, never letting up. His free hand grabs your neck, pulling you closer to his face. You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin. 

“I’m gonna cum again”, you say. 

“Let it go, wet that dick up”, he replies. 

With that, you let go, screaming to the heavens. Terry follows closely behind. You feel him tense up as he paints your walls white. 

The two of you are a mess of sweat and deep breaths. Terry pulls out of you, looking down at the art he created. He gives a playful slap to your ass cheek.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”, he says.

You roll your eyes, getting a chuckle out of him. 

He gets up, heading to the bathroom to check on the test. 

“Oh look”, he says flashing it to you, “it’s negative”.

-

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @skvrpion @avoidthings @jimmybutlrr @persethegawd @nayaesworld @mymindisneverhere @theereina @thabiddie23 @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @melaninpov @madamzola @literallegendicon @blyffe

[sugurouge]

— pocky, huh? ft. yamato endo, sakura haruka, suo hayato, togame jo x f!reader

content warnings! public indecency with endo, ofc

a/n: thank you kisa for the request!! i happily yapped about it! <3

— ENDO leads you to an abandoned side street, not particularly the most romantic area to be in, but it offers enough privacy for you two to enjoy a moment alone. You stumble behind him in confusion, not expecting him to pull you away when you asked him about playing that silly game with you.

You've kissed him before, countless times, so why would he make such a fuss about it now? Well, if today is already National Pocky Day, he might as well make it the best damn Pocky Day there ever was.

Endo eyes the strawberry-flavoured treat; the pink color looks adorable in front of your soft lips. Wetting his lips, his eyes lift off from the treat to land on yours, a soft puff of air being exhaled from his slightly parted lips as he walks you up against the wall. He leans into your space, offering you the chocolate-covered end to bite, his gaze dropping down to watch your mouth part.

This is just a simple, silly game. Why is this getting to your head? You look so adorable right now, all hesitant about biting into the candy. It brings a smirk to his face; he could devour you on the spot. "Come on, pretty, it's just Pocky!" he teases, chuckling about your frozen state.

Just Pocky.

Just Pocky, that Endo curtly throws over his shoulder to place your cheek in his palm, fingertips digging into the back of your head to pull you in. His lips meet yours in an instant, his tongue using your parted lips to his greedy advantage as he tastes you rather than any other candy in the world.

The packaging gets crumpled in his hand, all remaining sticks crushed to crumbs, as he pulls you in by your hip, his thigh pushing between your legs to hoist you up. Fuck decency if you moan like that on the open streets, Endo thinks to himself, as his hand makes you softly grind against his leg.

— You already knew SAKURA would be unhappy about this, spewing out complaints about how a game like that is for silly teens. "Then why do you get so worked up about it?" you tease. How could you not tease him? You already got to play with Kiryu earlier; being the gentleman he is, he let you have the last bite and pulled away early enough. Everyone was too aware of the set of golden eyes that watched the whole thing happen, a bit too close for comfort.

Sakura likes you; everyone and their grandma can tell as much.

"Just play. You can always pull away if you dislike me so much!" Oh, don't say that. Don't make Sakura even more conflicted. Nervous eyes dart around the room only to land on your curious ones again. "Fine, okay, okay!" he huffs as he grabs a stick, placing the clean side between his lips before making quick work of the treat. That is, until your bodies draw close, until your perfume envelops him, until he is too aware of the proximity of your lips. And that look you give him? Can you not look at him like you're in love with him or something?

He pulls back, head turned sideways in an attempt to hide how much of an impact you have on him.

Yet you giggle, a smug expression meeting his flustered gaze. "I thought it was just a childish game? Or do you really not like me, Haru?" you feign a pout. Damn, you look so cute. Only a fool would dislike you.

With a swallow, Sakura forces himself to toughen up, to play again. Is this even part of the rules? Ah, who cares. Who has time to worry when you're in front of them, leaning in closer and closer? He sneakily reaches out one hand to lace your fingers with his, leaving you no room for mockery as you stumble forward, lips crashing against his in a deeper kiss than you could have ever anticipated.

— SUO plays super fair. You want to try that silly game? Sure, if that's what you do with friends. Well, to him, you could be more than just a friend. And it seems like you want more from him as well, no? If this is your way of confessing, you better claim your prize quickly.

He's nibbling on one side of the stick slowly, and you're not even sure if he is enjoying this. You already picked the dark chocolate flavour, hoping a richer taste would lure him in. Maybe he really doesn't like you like that?

Suo can practically see you getting lost in your head, second thoughts suddenly hanging from above as you mimic his speed. You just need a little push, don't you? He takes a bigger bite, one that finally leads you two to lean in, to further grab bites of the stick until your throat starts to feel awfully dry, the tips of your noses brush and you can smell his comforting scent. So close to him, so awfully close, he might hear your racing heart.

But instead of leaning in, he waits. He feels the chocolate melting against his lips, fighting the urge to taste the sweetness on you. His fingertips ghost along your neck, he revels in the fact just how quick your pulse is jumping beneath your skin. Then they continue their journey along your jawline, practically drawing you forward to take the final step and meet his lips.

Suo loves Pocky. They taste amazing from your lips.

— Why would you propose a silly game like this? TOGAME thought you were friends. Who the hell plays a stupid kissing game with their friend? It's not like he's been fighting his attraction for you already. "Fine, okay, if it'll make you shut up," he practically groans. Why must he always be such a dick to you just because he can't manage his emotions? And you just shrug it off, all giddy to even get him to play with you. Friends have been telling you about the way his eyes are glued to you whenever he thinks nobody's watching, staring like you’re all he could want in his life.

You just have to find out for yourself.

You tug him down by the zipper of his jacket, forcing him to meet you halfway as you place the Oreo-coated stick between your lips, eagerly offering him the other side. You're greeted by a "tsk" and a shake of his head. "Not even offering me the chocolate after proposing this stupid game." Yet Togame still leans in, biting down on the stick in one, two bites. Your eyes widen; you didn't expect him to be that straightforward, that quick at eating.

Instead of kissing you, he straightens his back, shoulders rolling to fix his posture as the rest of the sweet treat rests between his lips. That defeated look on your face is utterly adorable, he muses. Yet you’re already second guessing yourself; maybe all this talk about him liking you got to your head.

"Happy now?" He looks down to meet your eyes, revealing the light blush on his cheeks.

"No! Why did you lean back? Are you scared of me or what? It's stupid," you protest, words leaving your lips quicker than you realise what you confess to.

A shit-eating grin forms on Togame’s lips, he allows himself a moment to celebrate his victory. "If you want me to kiss you so badly, just say it," he shoots back, with the last pinch of control he can muster up. A sigh follows as you remain silent, brows creased with an adorable pout on your kissable lips. Where did your big mouth disappear to now? Togame wonders.

"Don’t mind if I do..." Suddenly you're on your tiptoes, strong arms circling around your waist to pull you up, to meet his lips and kiss him deeply.

dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/strangergraphics

[alpaca-clouds]

Let's Talk About "Marvelfication"

Okay, let me try to get this out of my system, because I do have some thoughts on this one.

See, as you know, I finished Dragon Age: Veilguard last week. And I did enjoy the game. I never was that attached to the franchise. I really enjoyed Inquisition back in the day when it came out, but after doing two runs with it never have really returned to it. I also did play one of the older games, though I am not fully sure which one, because it was a long while ago. But I just never got that attached to the franchise. (Which mostly has to do with my own personal issues with High Fantasy.)

But that is not what I wanted to talk about. What I wanted to talk about is more the thing I have seen now multiple people call out: "The Marvelfication" as some have called it. And mind you, I absolutely do agree with this: There were several scenes in this game where I thought to myself: "This feels kinda MCU."

However, what I kinda want to talk about is the specific wording here: "Marvelfication." Because it is super understandable that the first thing that comes to mind (for me as well) is the MCU. But I think the issue is way deeper than "MCU is popular, so let's do something like the MCU".

A lot of folks on Youtube and other platforms have talked about how a lot of "tropes" that people blame on the MCU are actually older than the MCU. The reason people associate it with the MCU is moreso that the MCU is just fucking everywhere since it became this big thing. It is what defines the media landscape.

The big issue actually is another one, though: Those tropes are everywhere because in a more and more conservative media landscape they are considered safe. These types of jokes are not risky in any way. These types of characters are not risky. These types of stories are not risky.

It is stories that are set in societies that are messed up, and then there is a big conflict that only tangentally relates to the ways the societies are messed up in, and then that conflict is resolved but the status quo does not change.

And that more than anything is what I would criticize about the game. Outside of very prominently centering some trans issues, the game has taken very little risks.

I wrote about that a bit last week in comparison to BG3, how safe the companions in Veilguard feel. This shows so harshly in direct comparison to BG3, because really, Larian sat down with player and told you: "Those assholes are your companions. Take it or leave it." Those people I know who never finished BG3 mostly never did because they could not stand the companions. Meanwhile those who, like me, got obsessed with the game, mostly did it because it feels so fucking satisfying when you start to get through to the companions after they started out as those assholes. This satisfaction is something Veilguard never really offers you - because... Well, I can assume that some of these characters had some edges at some point. But whatever edges there had been, those have gotten smoothed down, so now everyone is perfectly sweet. Sure, they might argue a bit here or there, and if you make decisions they do not agree with, they are gonna be pissy with Rook for a bit, but that's the most of it.

Same with a lot of other stuff. There is basically no sexual content in this game. You get one sex scene that is super tame and you see nothing - and one to two kisses per romance. No risk.

Any no matter what kinda choice the characters make, they are all gonna be nice, you know?

There is one thing in the finale of the game that is kinda risky, I will admit. But I will not talk about that yet, because I knwo a lot of people have not finished the game.

But for the most part the game does not risk anything.

And really, that is the core of what folks call "Marvelfication". Because pretty much this is also the issue with Marvel and Star Wars and pretty much all American made media: Outside of some smaller productions, some of which do well with the tumblr crowd but barely get any attention from mainstream audience (*coughs* Interview with the Vampire *coughs*) there is little risk taken. The humor is the same everywhere because this humor is considered safe. The characters feel kinda samey everywhere, because those characters are safe.

It is why I have stopped going to the cinema, because these days there are barely any movies I consider worth watching. It is ironically also why I have recently watched a whole lot more Japanese stuff, because it is easier to find stuff there that does not play it that safe.

It is also why I do these days mostly consume western stuff that has a 18+ rating on it - because at least with that stuff I know that it probably is not gonna play it "safe".

I just wish some media took more risks. I want those medium budget projects back, that cost like 30-50 million, so can make a profit with 100 million at the box office, without doing billions. I want some stuff in there that is not a big IP. I just want... stuff.

Right now I am looking at the soon end of What We Do In The Shadows, mostly because it is one of the few things on right now that does some risky stuff. And I miss those SyFy low budget originals, because some of it was kinda risky. Ugh.

The issue is not Marvel. It is not even Disney. It is that the creative industries in the US right now mainly put out big budget stuff that because of that big budget needs to be loved by everyone.

And look, I am trans. Hence I absolutely do see some value in the fact that Bioware clearly took position and said: "Okay, we get to do one risky thing, so that thing is gonna be to incluse a variety of trans characters." Which I love and respect. But I kinda wish the game had not been quite that pretty and instead also included a bit more edges on the characters.

... But I guess in the end there is still fanfiction, where I can still make the characters messy. lol

[wild-typo-turtle]

Threads - Part 13

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content (parts 9, 11, and 13), canon-typical violence; loss of parents; grief/mourning.

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot; @inyx-writes44, @melmel-fandom, @hufflepufferine, @shadows-and-flowers, @xcrybaby555x, @bespectacledhuman

Face claim: Keri Russell as Linnea

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (contains smut), Part 10, Part 11 (contains very brief, light smut), Part 12

Warning! This chapter contains wedding night smut! Please do not proceed if you are not of age to read such things, or if such are not your cup of tea!

Part 13

For all the time Linnea had spent preparing for it, the coronation itself was a blur. Elven memories did not dim; when she thought of it later, she remembered it perfectly. But at the time, it moved in flashes, one clear moment after another.

Gil-galad taking her hand and leading her from the feast, the wedding guests falling in behind them.

Walking the path down to the great Tree, through the gathered crowds. So many had come that the path was narrow, but those closest stepped back to leave more space, bowing deeply as they did so. The sound of a harp beginning to play.

Gil-galad standing next to the Tree. Her crown, resting on a pillow that Elrond carried, a delicate semicircle of golden mulberry leaves. Linnea had chosen the design both for beauty and symbolism; the mulberry leaf was the preferred food of silkworms. The same smith that had wrought the betrothal ring she had given to Gil-galad had been selected to craft the crown, and she had done her work well.

Herself. Kneeling on the steps to the dais, Gil-galad stepping forward and standing in front of her. Him lifting the crown from the pillow. 

“Varda, queen of the Valar, we call upon you. Grant your blessing to Linnea, daughter of Taucion and Lhénes, wife to Ereinion - ”

His voice catching. Lingering.

“Grant your blessing as we crown her High Queen of the Noldor, that she may rule wisely and well for as long as the Father of All wills it.”

The wreath of golden leaves settling on her brow.

Afterward, well-wishers. An endless stream of them, bowing and murmuring their names, seeking to take the hand of their new queen. The formality of the occasion quickly dissolving, save for the line to greet her. Everyone milling about, enjoying the food from the laden tables, no plate or glass empty for more than a moment. The harp joined by a flute, the music turning livelier. A circle forming to dance. 

Gil-galad by her side throughout all of it. 

And then, finally, the sun beginning to set. The crowds slowly dispersing. 

Her husband, offering her his arm.

No staircase tonight. Instead they went directly to his rooms - and Linnea supposed that now it was really theirs. Still his space, and hers below, but a combined third state that was somehow shared. 

Especially the bed.

The door shut behind them. 

They hadn't spoken about this moment. There had not been time, and she could see that Ereinion was nervous, searching for something to do, an action to take that would help him set his compass. It was part of his nature to be so.

“Will you…” He cleared his throat. “I will await you here, if you wish to return to your rooms and summon your attendants.”

That had been their habit during the previous nights. Linnea had gone to her rooms to change, and then returned for tea and shared pleasures and finally sleep. She could do the same tonight. 

But she found herself not wanting to leave him. It felt somehow wrong to separate tonight, even for those few minutes. There would be other nights for the beautiful nightgown and nightrobe that Eressie had made; there was no reason for her to change her garments only for him to remove them again.

And as she looked at him, so beautiful in his white and gold, she wanted to be the one to undress him.

“Perhaps…tonight we might tend to one another?” she offered softly. 

Her words seemed to bridge the distance, the change that was about to happen. Ereinion smiled and stepped up to her, his hand cupping her face, and she rose up on her tiptoes even as he bent down. A longer, much longer kiss than they’d shared outside; more sensual, deeper, slower. 

And when the kiss ended, and she opened her eyes, he was looking so intently at her. And perhaps that was part of why this act, what they were going to do, was so intimate. Focusing on someone else to this extent, making them the entire world; perhaps it could be done without love like this behind it and still be enjoyed, but that seemed like a different thing entirely. His hand was still on her face, and his voice, when he spoke, was the softest whisper imaginable. 

“Will you lie with me, melethel?”

On one hand it was a strange question. They had stood in front of the assembled guests; they had spoken the blessings; they had exchanged rings and gifts. All that was proper had been done. This was the final step for all that had come before. And they had already shared so much passion and joy with one another, learning each other's bodies before this night.

But on the other, it was that final step, the act that made their marriage. And so it made sense that he would ask, just as he had asked her to wed at the beginning of the ceremony.

“Alassenya nás, meleth nín.” 

It is my joy, beloved.

Ereinion smiled. Slowly, he raised his hands to the crown that he himself had set upon her head, and lifted it free. The mulberry leaves glittered in the lantern light as he set it aside - and the laurel leaves of his own crown did the same, as he bowed his head to her. 

With trembling hands, Linnea took his crown off, and set it on the table next to hers. The sight hit hard, made it real in a way that even the weight of the crown on her head had not done: High King, and High Queen. 

When he straightened up, she decided that the rest of the metal he wore needed to go too. Her fingers reached for his belt and swiftly unfastened it, found the chain of his pectoral and unhooked it. He submitted to her attentions quietly, making no move to help except for positioning himself to make it easier. And when she had dispensed with those things, it was only natural that she should push the overrobe off his shoulders, and then that she should gather up the robe itself and lift it over his head.

He liked silk pants beneath his robes, and had made no exception that day. They were pure white, pale as the moon, and the only other thing he still wore was a pair of soft white leather shoes. And in the next moment, he kicked those off. 

Linnea reached for the pants, but he stopped her hands, catching them with his own.

“Turn for me,” he murmured.

She did. She felt him gather up her hair, moving the mass of curls off her back and over her shoulder. Once it was out of the way, she felt gentle tugs at her back, one after the other; he had untied her corset and was carefully unlacing it, inch by inch. It loosened around her, dropping down as it did, until the last of the lacing was undone and the dress slithered off her, over her hips and down her arms, to pool at her feet.

She was left in her undergarments: thin white silk, a shift and drawers. Barely anything at all. And then even less, as Ereinion slid his hands over her hips, catching the shift and drawing it up over her head. 

Her heart raced, as her hair fell down around her. She turned back around.

He was staring. His eyes were dark and wide, shimmering as he looked at her. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, but he still looked stunned, and she felt his hand tremble when he laid it on her face to draw her mouth to his again. The kiss was slow for a moment and then became more demanding, as her skin touched his and his arms went around her and the heat in her core burst to life.

They had all night. There was no need to rush. But when she slid her hands down his chest, reaching again for the tie on his pants, he did not stop her that time.

This was new. Not the sight of him, as the pants dropped and he stepped out of them, but all of him. They had always left some clothes at least nominally on during the past nights, not that that had prevented anything at all. But it had been a vague notion that there would be something still to discover on their true wedding night. And as it turned out, that idea had had merit, for him proudly naked with nothing obstructing her gaze was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

She let her eyes feast. And he stood there, letting her drink him in, and then it was his turn to finish what he'd started. 

He had held still for her; she did the same for him once she was bare, as his eyes moved over her nude form. His gaze was so fierce that it almost felt like a touch, like his hands were running over her breasts, down her stomach, sliding over her hips and between her legs. Her core burned for him and he had barely laid a finger on her. 

“Ereinion,” she finally whispered, and he smiled. 

“What would you have of me, my lady?”

The glitter in his eyes said he knew her answer, but that he desired to hear it. And she would deny him nothing.

“You,” she breathed. “All of you.”

Linnea took his hands, pulling him to the bed. He followed, and once they had reached it and she had sat and then laid down, he joined her, stretching his long frame out next to her. He always made her feel so delicate and small - but not fragile, because his strength was hers, shared between them. 

Ereinion propped himself up on an elbow, brushing her hair back from her face. She burned for him - and his body said he was more than ready for her - but the gentle touch showed that even so, he would be patient. 

He lowered his lips to hers, taking his time about the kiss. Slow and sensual; it deepened gradually, lovingly. He tasted of honey and fruit, the sweets from the coronation reception, and of the wine that had flowed freely. She cupped his face, stroking her fingers delicately over the lines of his cheeks and his ears, feeling the silken strands of his hair brush her hands. 

When he lifted his head, she smiled at him. 

“What would you have of me, my love?”

Ereinion chuckled quietly, shaking his head, eyes closing briefly. “A gift that I never thought to receive at all,” he murmured. “But not before I ensure your pleasure, melethel.”

She was ready for him. She needed no more than him; she ached for him, her body knowing what it wanted. And she opened her mouth to say so, but before she could speak, he had shifted his weight to cover her, and his lips had started making their way down her bare body.

Clearly, he was enjoying the lack of obstacles. No clothing in his way, no nightgown to push aside in some faint semblance of modesty. He had kissed her skin before; his lips had run over her shoulders, her arms, her breasts. Her stomach, her thighs. But he was making sure that no inch of skin was neglected, feathering his mouth over every bit of her. He lingered at her breasts, his tongue swiping over each nipple in turn until both were stiff and aching, and then drawing them one by one into his mouth to suck. He had learned well, over the past nights; he had learned that this pleased her greatly, that she would writhe and moan for him when he did this.  

Linnea reached, trying to touch him, trying to wiggle her hand between them. Her fingers just managed to brush his sex and he shuddered, shifting his hips away out of her reach, and then laughing again softly at the whine that escaped her lips. 

“Patience, beloved,” he murmured. “Patience.”

Truly, his would outlast the stars; she did not have nearly that much. At the slide of his hand down her stomach, she spread her legs eagerly, and the motion made him moan against her breast. Yet for all his admonishments of patience, he did not delay in giving her what she wanted - his fingers gently caressed the soft folds of her and he groaned at how easily they moved, how slick she was already. She rocked her hips into his hand, pushing for a firmer touch, and that elicited another groan. His finger slipped up, circling where she needed him the most, stroking the sensitive bud of nerves in just the way she loved. But he was keeping it slow; it was another thing he had learned so well, that building her pleasure up gradually resulted in the most blinding, earth-shattering peaks.

“Ereinion…”

She curved her hands over his head, his neck, sinking her fingers into his hair. He abandoned her breasts and slid downward, his hand never ceasing its movements to keep stoking the fire in her. Down, down, down; lips caressing the smoothness of her belly, and then low enough that she could no longer reach him and had to settle for gripping the blankets. Kisses on the inside of her knee and then back up, along her inner thigh, and all the while that hand. Those fingers working their magic on her, first one and then two inside, a gentle stretch and thrusting that was a prelude to what she knew would be happening soon.

His mouth took over the work that his fingers had left. Tongue caressing that throbbing little bud; licking, suckling, teasing. Still gentle, still slow, building and building and building, using everything he'd learned over the past nights. Her eyes were torn between wanting to drink in the sight of his head between her legs and not having the strength to stay open; her head lolled back on the pillows, lips parted, breath coming in shallow gasps and whimpers.

The motion of his mouth stopped, although his fingers continued their glide in and out of her - less smooth now that she was clenching tightly around them, desperate for release. She felt him shift back, felt his breath on her flesh as he spoke. 

“Let go, beloved. Let go for me.”

When he leaned back in and resumed that soft, deliberate licking, she came apart. It was a miracle that she did not shred the blankets that her fingers gripped so tightly; her vision went white, and her entire body shook with the force of it. And Ereinion’s tongue did not stop; he kept going, groaning his own pleasure at the feel of hers, prolonging the release until she was limp on the bed, drowning in feeling, unable to move so much as a muscle.

Only then did he ease his fingers from her; only then did he move back up on the bed, shifting so that her spent form lay cradled in his arms. She let him move her, eyes still closed, feeling her heart gradually slowing to normal.

When Linnea finally opened her eyes, he was gazing at her, a faint smile on his face. 

“Are you well?”

She laughed. His question held no trace of nervousness, as it had the first time they had been together. It was knowing now, and even just faintly smug - but she did not begrudge him that in the slightest. 

She reached up, caressing his cheek. “I love you.”

Ereinion turned, pressing his lips to her palm, once and then again. She trailed her hand down lazily, over his neck and shoulder, down his chest - and it was her turn to smile as he shuddered slightly at the touch. He was happy to let her recover, to rest a moment after such pleasure, but that did not mean that his desire had been exhausted.

No, not at all. And the proof of that was found as her hand moved lower, down the firm muscles of his stomach and lower yet. 

He shuddered again, more forcefully, as she wrapped her hand around him. She too had learned; she had learned how he liked best to be touched, and she trailed her fingertips delicately over the side of his sex. The hot, velvety skin quivered, his hips pushing his hard length into her hand, and as she rubbed her thumb over the sensitive head, she felt the silken moisture that told her how on edge he was.  

She intended to draw it out, as he had with her. He was not the only one who had learned how to use his mouth, his tongue, to great effect. But as she made to move back and lower her head to his lap, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. 

“Not now,” he breathed, and she could hear the tremble in his voice. “Now - melethel, I want you now…”

Oh, yes. Yes. 

For a moment, she wondered how. But he clearly had something in mind; he sat up and pulled her to settle on his lap, astride his hips just as she had been the first time he had touched her. His sex brushed against her still-sensitive core and she shuddered, her hips seeking, pressing down as she draped her arms around his shoulders.

His hand slipped between them, grasping his own sex and dragging it through her folds to notch himself at her entrance. She was used to the feeling of entry by now from his fingers, but this was much different - more stretch, firmer pressure, and the craving for more of both, for that hardness to fill her. 

“At your pace,” he whispered, voice trembling even more. “As slow as you need to.”

She was slick, and the pleasure from his mouth and fingers had helped relax her. But it still made her muscles burn as she sank down, as her body stretched to accommodate taking him in, and she couldn't help but gasp as he slid inside her. Ereinion nuzzled the side of her face, and she turned her head to meet his kiss, all the while lowering herself. And even amid what must have been an onslaught of sensation for him, he stroked her back, soothing her, letting her take all the time she needed. 

When their hips finally met, she drew in a deep, ragged breath, just feeling. Stretch, yes, but also pleasure - and yet, that craving was still there for something more, wanting to move, wanting him to move. 

Linnea lifted her head, meeting his eyes, and gave him a small nod.

He understood. 

There was a shift beneath her, a roll of his hips that pulled him out slightly and then pushed back in. And then another, just as slow and gentle. The movement banished the last of the lingering pain, sweeping it away in a blaze of pleasure; she cried out and he immediately stilled, hands clenching on her, but she quickly took over the rhythm to reassure him, rocking her hips back and forth, and it was his turn to moan, his turn to call out her name.

“Linnea…”

The coil inside her was tightening again, her heart pounding, her body gasping for air, even as the rhythm between their bodies stayed slow. And he was there too; his mouth was open, eyes dark and deep.

His hand stole up, bringing her head down to claim her mouth. The kiss deepened hungrily, and as it did, she felt herself being tilted, laid down with their bodies still one, Ereinion on top of her, and oh, oh, his weight and his warmth and the change in angle of him inside her, the change in position that meant he was in control of the pace; there was more force behind his thrusts, although he was still attempting to go slow. If she'd thought the pleasure would drown her before, now it had the inexorability of the tides pulling her under; the only thing in the entirety of creation was Ereinion's body on her, in her, first and last and only -

And as everything in her tightened, tightened, she was aware of something else new. Even amongst all of the new sensations sweeping through her, it was like a muscle she had never been aware of before - something that could flex if she willed it so. The building pleasure stopped, like a wave stopped by a dam, just waiting for something -

Before she could consider it more, the pleasure broke. For them both.

Even as she was swept away by her own climax, she heard him cry out. He convulsed in her arms, a garbled half-shout, half-moan bursting from him. She felt warmth spread inside her, his release filling her as he spent himself. The dark curtains of his hair cloaked her head as he bent for a kiss, and then she laughed in delight as he peppered her face with more kisses. 

When finally he rolled off, he reached for her, and she went to lie on his chest. His arms encircled her and she had never felt so safe, so cherished. She was a wife now, his wife and his queen, wedded and crowned and bedded. His forever, as he was hers.

Of course, she had already known that. But this day had made it all real. 

Linnea felt his hand lazily stroking over her hair, and a press of his lips against her head. It had been long enough that she felt like she could actually move, and she rose up, propping herself on her elbow, smiling at the sight of him with rumpled hair and cheeks stained pink.

“Are you well?”

Ereinion laughed at that, sliding his hand up her back to tug her down for a kiss. “I am,” he murmured against her lips. “I am well indeed, now that I am your husband. As I have always been meant to be.”

There were no words for that. Nothing but another kiss, and curling herself back up on his chest, letting her eyes close in contentment.

That feeling she had experienced teased at her. It was difficult to summon outside of the moment, but she tried her best, smiling inadvertently as she recalled the pleasure that had filled her. Her hips shifted; she was spent, truly she was, and yet, remembering how he had felt buried deep within her…

“Melethel?” Ereinion stirred beneath her. “What troubles you?”

Quickly, she shook her head. “Nothing troubles me. It was just - there was something different, when we were…something I had not ever felt before, and I was…”

She trailed off, realizing. Of course. She had had no room for thought at the time, but now it seemed so obvious.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh.”

He didn’t press - he waited for her to speak. Slowly, she lifted herself up again, and she could feel her eyes welling up.

“When we are ready to conceive,” she whispered. “I felt - it was something inside that I could open. If I willed it. When the time is right for us. I had known something of it and yet…it is as you said. It is not possible to describe in words.”

He didn’t look surprised. His hand came up to tuck a curl behind her ear, and his fingers lingered on her cheek. “It was so for me as well, my love. And like you, I was unsure of it at the time - though perhaps that is understandable.” The corner of his mouth twisted wryly. “But I felt the same. A part of myself that I could give to you beyond my body. And while it is ill to rush such things, we should consider that this respite - while both the enemy and we prepare ourselves - may be our best chance to know that joy.”

Linnea nodded soberly. Their people preferred to have children during times of peace, to ensure that both mother and father would have ample strength to devote to bearing and raising. Her heart again ached for Eressie, and for all those like her, left alone by the war. But she and Ereinion had spoken of it previously, how there was no way to know how long this war would endure. The enemy was cunning, and patient. He would not strike until he had confidence in victory.

“Soon, then,” she murmured, and he nodded back at her, smiling softly.

“Soon,” he agreed. “But not quite yet. We have time to enjoy these early days of our marriage. I must learn to be a husband first, before I learn to be a father.”

Linnea chuckled, and offered him a sly, teasing smile. “You seem to be well-schooled in all matters that a husband must be,” she said. “But perhaps we should conduct another test? I must also continue learning to be a wife, after all…”

There was a lilt in her voice - a hint of desire, that had blossomed in her when she had remembered their lovemaking. There was much more of the night yet before them, after all, and it was their wedding night. How else to spend those hours but in the practices of marriage?

He heard the desire, and it made him laugh, but she heard that same faint hint from him. And she smiled in welcome, as he rolled her over onto her back, rising over her and nestling his hips between her thighs.

Perhaps she was not entirely spent. 

TBC....

[perfctvelvet]

hiii, can i request something with Madison Beer?

The reputation the proceeds you had Madison a little more worried than she liked to let on.

Reputation; Madison Beer/Fem!Reader

Content: 2nd POV. College AU, kind of bimbo!reader, themes of slut-shaming (very brief), Madison and reader are roommates, teasing, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (reader receiving).

Y/n.

A name that was known around campus and in the mouths of many people (and in more ways than one for some people).

You weren't sure when you amassed such a reputation, it seemed like it happened overnight, but you were well aware of what people thought of you. It wasn't necessarily a secret that some considered you a slut and even a bimbo in some cases. There were nasty rumors that you only made it to your senior year of college because you slept your way to better grades. What they say should bother you, but it just doesn't hurt as much as others would think. You go out, you party, and you have an occasional hook-up; nothing more, nothing less. Maybe someone just didn't like you and decided from that day on that you were the girl who will hook-up with anyone.

Madison prides herself on being non-judgemental, which is why she accepted your offer to be roommates in the college apartments for your senior year. You knew of her just as much as she knew of you, only in passing and through what others have said about each of you. She was a sweet girl, got good grades, dated the start football player, and is on the dance team. She was such a cliche and it surprised you that she didn't mind rooming with the "campus whore."

After a few emails going back and forth to get to know each other and one coffee date, it was time to move-in before the semester started. She grew to learn that you were quieter than people proclaimed, but nothing about your outfit screamed nice, quiet girl. Who decides to wear a short, pink dress to move-in into an apartment? At times she swore she could see your ass cheeks and that you weren't wearing any panties. You bopped around the apartment, so happy for a taste of responsibility and privacy that an apartment grants.

"Imagine the parties we could have here. We don't have to go to those nasty frat houses to have fun anymore!"

You were more concerned with the idea of an apartment party than unpacking your stuff. Madison felt a little awkward responding to you as you two weren't that close yet. However, she did like the idea of partying at the apartment compared to the frat houses. It would be much safer and calmer to have a few people over instead of those drug and alcohol fueled ragers. The fact that you two were on the same page about the type of parties you enjoyed more was surprising to her. In fact there was more common ground between the two of you than either expected.

"But, I'd rather stay in and hang out with my roomie anyway."

Madison doesn't know if you're flirting with her when you wink at her or if you're just like that. You've done something like that a few times before and it makes her brain short-circuit. Where people saw a bimbo, she saw a confident girl. Even after people talked shit about you, you still showed up to the places they would be like you didn't have a care in the world.

"So, what should we do for our first night together?"

Two white claws and one rom-com later, and Madison was feeling the buzz. She wasn't drunk, but she was half-way to tipsy and she felt so good. She was enjoying your company more than she expected. You two were clad in pajamas and face masks. After your last round of roommates were either rude to you or disgusting, Madison was a breath of fresh air. And she was really pretty to look at. Now that time was slowing down and you got a good look at her, she might be the most gorgeous girl on campus. It stirred something inside, that needed to have what you wanted. The last thing you want to do is scare her off though.

"You sure you don't want to go out tonight?" You ask, just to test the waters a little bit. "There's supposed to be a senior bonfire around 11 o'clock."

"I'm in no state to go out. Besides, I like being here with you and getting to know you."

She leans in a little to you and it feels like she's insinuating something. You could be seeing things a little hazy thanks to the drinks you had, but you of all people know what the look in Madison's eyes mean.

"I like getting to know you too. I like that you don't judge me."

"I'm not that kind of person.”

The softness of her voice, and the ghosting of her fingers against your thighs, gives the game away. She wants you.

"Can I ask you a question Madi," emphasis on the nickname

"Sure"

"Do you believe the rumors about me?'

"no"

"Would you change your mind if I told you I'm so fucking horny right now."

Madison is at a loss for words, but this is what she wanted. She smiles and leans into you before capturing your lips. Soon the movie on TV becomes forgotten and you two are making out. You expected that you would be the one to raise the temperature, but Madison was groping your tits before you could even touch her. She was popular, but you always viewed her as more reserved. Right now she’s groping you the same way a drunk frat boy would expect you to welcome her advances much more. 

“Can you spread your legs for me?”

Madison was on a little bit of a power trip when you began to respond to her so quickly. Your nightgown rides up as your legs part for her and you expose your pussy. She would never judge, but it was just amazing to her that she was able to crack you open without much effort. She rubbed small circles into your clit just to feel how wet you were and you were dripping. You were wet enough for her to slide not one, not two, but three fingers into your pussy.

“Fuck Madi!” You cried and bit into your bottom lip. You looked up at her while she stared at your pussy opening up to take her fingers.

You pull on the top of your gown to expose your tits. You grope them just like Madison did earlier but you also play with your hard nipples. You give them a squeeze when Madison’s fingers curl inside of you and hit your sweet spot. Her thumb presses into your sensitive clit and rubs into it while fingering you. With her other hand she grabs a hold of your face and makes you face her. She captures your lips again and your kiss is fueled with absolute lust. She was just having so much fun seeing how she could overwhelm you with desire. You let her use you despite not even knowing her personally for more than 24 hours. You wonder if this would be an everyday thing for you two; Madison pleasing you and wanting to see how true the rumors about you were. It excites you thinking about being used everyday in the privacy of your own apartment, you won’t need to go to another campus party again.

Madison felt like it would be impossible to pull her fingers out of your cunt. It was warm, wet, and kept pulling her fingers in deeper. If you feel good she can imagine just how good you taste as well. She reluctantly pulls out of you to be met with you whimpering at the emptiness. However you really felt the magic when she got between your legs and worked her tongue into your pussy. Her tongue was trained on your clit and every so often she would wrap her lips around the sensitive nub. You wanted to scream out so loud, but you weren’t sure how thick these apartment walls were. Instead you bit into your bottom lip and hummed while she ate your pussy. You were surprised by how into it she was but the taste of your arousal flowing onto her thumb was egging her on. She now understands why some of these boys on campus go crazy for you, but tasting you only made her want you for herself. Her boyfriend be damned, he would have to understand that Madison can’t keep her mouth off of her roommates pretty little cunt.

“I’m gonna cum Madi!”

Your voice sounds so sweet to her as you whimper and pant from the pleasure. You held onto the back of her head and buried her face deeper into your cunt. This was turning her on so much that Madison can’t help but shove her hands into her pants and finger her wet pussy. Your juices still remained on her fingers and mixed in her pussy with her own juices. Your legs were shaking from her skilled tongue dancing over your clit until you were cumming against her mouth. Madison didn’t care how loud your whimpers began to grow or that you were starting to become sensitive, she kept licking you out until she was satisfied and had enough. She cleaned up the juices running down your ass, savoring each drop.

When she pulls away she looks up at you and smirks. You lean down and your lips meet once again for the night. The taste of yourself on her lips is the hottest thing you’ve experienced in months, and you’ve tasted yourself plenty of times. You can’t help but wonder if Madison accepted your roommate request just to be able to have this from time to time.

“You should be used to this by now, but look how you’re shaking for me.”

Madison draws a line up your thigh with her finger. Her touch made you shiver and you swear you’ve never been like this for someone in your life. 

[obsessive-reylin]

TW: heart disease, operation, forced operation, hospital and doctors

The yandere content that I’m writing is absolutely in no way me promoting this type of behaviour. I do not romanticise it; this is just a way for me to explore the more darker side of my writing. If you do relate to these characters or think that it’s romantic, please seek help.

You are welcome to send asks/requests about my existing characters or others. Just make sure to read my rules.

A couple of months ago, it felt like your world fell into shambles. You didn't really understand what kind of sickness your sister had, but it was explained by the doctors that she needed her heart replaced. You visited her every single day, talking to her and supporting her, and then crying your heart out on your way to work. It felt wrong to be giving up on her sister, but then again, what kind of monster you would be, wishing for someone else's death to die, for her to survive ?

In the end, you didn't have to do that for her, since one of the doctors that were treating her found a legitimate donor. You were overjoyed by the news, even as far as hugging the doctor in question and crying into his shoulder. But it seemed as though he didn't mind, dare say even enjoyed it. Either way, you didn't pay attention to that, nor the joyous stare that he was giving you.

After your sister's operation, everything seemed to go back to how it was, that was until the doctor, Liam as he presented himself to you, asked you out on a date. At first, you weren't really into the idea, it felt like he thought since he saved your stater, you owned him something. But your sister convinced you that it probably wasn't anything of the sort, telling you that you should just give him a chance. Worst case scenario, it doesn't click between the two of you during the date, and you just part ways.

You had to admit, it was a good argument on her part, since you asked around and his female coworkers never once uttered a displeased comment about him. And also the fact that you were pretty desperate for someone to be your other half, so you finally decided to accept his offer.

Soon enough, you and Liam officially started dating. You were never too interested in that aspect, but with Liam it felt ecstatic. For you, he was the picture-perfect boyfriend. Scratch that, the embodiment of romance, that's what he was to you. He would always make sure that you were taken care of in every way possible. He asked for your consent to everything, listening intently to everything that came out of your mouth, taking you out on dates, and buying you everything you wanted and more. 

Meaningless to say, it didn't take long for him to convince you to move in with him. And it might have been his worst mistake, because soon after, something in you just clicked. Everything just felt too perfect, for your licking, something was definitely not right. You knew that you had a bad habit of becoming paranoid and tried to brush it off, but at the back of your mind, you couldn't just ignore this inner feeling of uneasiness. That's why you decided to rummage through the house, since you figured Liam wouldn't have a problem with it. 

Not even ten minutes in, you find yourself standing in front of the door heading towards the basement.

“I didn't know we had a basement…”  You thought to yourself as you opened the door and headed downstairs, bracing yourself for what you were about to find inside. At first, everything seemed normal, everything was tidy, like Liam usually liked. That is until you went further and discovered MRI machines, CT scanners, sedatives, opioids, and a bunch of other stuff that you were pretty sure were not legal to keep at home, even for a doctor. 

You didn't really know what to do. On one hand, you wanted to call the police, but it felt a little too extreme, you were dating the guy after all. So you decided the next day to go to the hospital and ask one of his close colleagues, so that one of them could shed some light into the situation without taking any legal actions. 

But just as you were about to do that, you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you find Liam smiling down at you. But this didn't feel like his usual smile, for some reason it felt creepy and unsettling. 

“Honey, are you alright ? What are you doing at the hospital ?”

“Yeah… I brought you lunch, that's all.”

You quickly handed him his lunch that you thankfully prepared in case you would run into him, hands slightly trembling as you did so. You started to regret not calling the police. Looking at him now, knowing what he hid in the basement, you felt really uneasy being around him, knowing that he could be doing literary anything with that equipment.

“Oh honey, how sweet of you…” You could practically feel the sarcasm dripping from his voice, and it made you ten times more anxious, making you question if he knew that you entered the basement.

Not long after, he insisted on taking you home, since he would finish his shift soon enough. Through the entire car ride, you couldn't help but anxiously fidget, waiting for what would happen once you're home. Liam didn't show any signs of anger or anything of the sort, but that didn't stop you from feeling like the day wasn't going to end on a happy note. As soon as you step into the house, you are hit on the back of your head with something hard, and you feel your body collapse on the floor. 

The next time you woke up, your head was throbbing, and you couldn't focus on anything, or remember what had happened, until Liam came into the room, a wide smile on his face.

“Darling ! You finally woke up, that's good.”

“What happened ?”

“Well you see darling, I haven't used the basement for quite a while, so imagine my surprise when I noticed yesterday that the door handle wasn't dusty.”

He sat beside you on the bed and took your hand in his. He had the same smile that he always showed you, and yet you couldn't help but be afraid of him, afraid of what he might do to you.

“By the way, your phone has a tracking app, so I knew you wanted to snitch on me to my colleagues. And you know what they say, snitches get stitches, so that's what I did !”

You were utterly confused by his words, until he started lifting your shirt up and to your horror, you discovered actual stitches. Your body completely froze at the sight. You finally understood what this monster of a man was doing down in the basement with all of that medical equipment. 

“I took your liver out. I remember you telling me that wanted to donate your organs, so consider this a start.”

He then grabbed your chin, and made you look at him. His grip was so tight you almost started crying, or maybe it was because you didn't want to be close to him. Either way, you were hurt, inside and out.

“Now listen darling. You have two options. One, you forget everything that happened. Two, you make me upset like you did yesterday, and you're going to be a frequent visitor of the basement.”

And with simple threat, he gently kissed your cheek. Never once you thought you would go from craving his touch to despising it.

Thank you so much for reading ! Why don't you spend some more time on my blog and look through my navigation ?

[bamboobooshark]

WILL GRAHAM • ❄️

Too Cold || 820 Words || P.G. Rating || Fandom: Hannibal (2013)

Author’s Note: I have another Will Graham fic in my drafts already, but I have more motivation to write this first. I’m excited to see how this post does since I recently got into Hannibal and really wanted to write something with Will. Enjoy!

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CONTENT WARNINGS: No mentions of Will’s nightmares, Will is sensory seeking but also needs cuddles, Reader can use their arms/upper body (momentary scene), Reader moves around but with no description how exactly (no mention of legs), Reader is in a romantic relationship with Will, uses of the pet name sweetheart.

The snow usually didn’t get this thick, but today you were thankful for it. The powder blanketed the ground outside so heavily that no one could go anywhere. You and Will decided to stay in and relax together. The two of you agreed to sleep in the living room on the pull out couch while the dogs slept on the floor. The fire crackled softly and dimly lit the room that was nearly sun blocked. You had brought your own individual blankets to wrap up in because Will insisted. He hated the idea of getting you drenched in his sweat just so you could cuddle him. You thought it was a fair trade; hold him in your arms and make him feel safe in exchange for something you could easily fix in the middle of the night. You didn’t like to push him, though.

You sat yourself up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You looked around the room and counted each of the dogs to ensure they were all here. You sighed deeply while taking in your surroundings. It was peaceful—every aspect of the moment you were in. Will slept peacefully for once, the dogs breathed deeply, the fire gave off a pinch of heat, and the snow fell heavy outside with the whipping of the wind. A soft smile crawled onto your lips. You stretched, preparing to get out of bed. You looked down at your sleeping lover and pressed a kiss to his forehead. A heartbeat later, you’re slowly dragging yourself out of the pull-out couch.

Once you get yourself steady, a few of the dogs get up to come greet you. You whisper sweet greetings and wish them each a good morning. You make your way towards the kitchen to the dog treat jar. You tap the ceramic lightly so as not to disturb Will. The last few dogs who were either sleeping or chose to stay lying down came to you. You gave each of them their gingerbread treats and sent them to go lay down once more. The house continues to stay quiet as you walk into the pantry in search of something to eat. You hum softly before grabbing a pop-tart from one of the shelves.

The springs from the pull-out bed squeak awfully, causing you to emerge from the pantry as soon as you could. You spot Will looking at you with tired eyes. “What?” you ask with a soft chuckle. He looks at you, slightly annoyed. You should know by now what he wants. “Come back. I’m cold,” he said blankly. You nod your head in agreement as you head to the bed. “You’re taking an unreasonable amount of time,” he complained to you. “I’m working on it,” you say in a sing-song voice.

The second your thighs touch the edge of the bed, Will clings his arms around your waist and pulls him toward you. You squeal and smack at his arm playfully. “Will Graham! Get your hands off of me right now!” you said as you smiled so hard your cheeks started to hurt. “I never want to let you go, though. Espically not in this sort of weather,” he told you as he pulled you so his chin lined up with your shoulder. Your entire body shivered as you felt the tip of his cold nose touch your skin. He breathed you in deeply, resulting in him becoming completely still, besides his chest rising and falling. “You soothe me so well,” he praised gently. The arms that circled your waist squeezed a bit tighter as if they might loose you. You wriggled to be closer to his chest and settled once you were. His hand slowly traced circles on your stomach. It was so quiet you could hear the soft scratching of his fingers against the fabric of your shirt.

Your silent peace is soon interrupted when Will turns to lay on his back, bringing you with him. You gasp from the shock, at a complete loss for words. Will chuckles as you take a few deep breaths. “Why would you do that?” you ask in utter confusion. “I needed your weight on top of me,” he said plainly with a shrug. You sigh in slight annoyance—but you’re always glad to provide the stimulation your lover needs if it helps him stay calm and focused. He leans forward and kisses your forehead gently. “I had to return the favor,” he whispered. You chuckle once you realize what he was referring to. You kissed him back on the cheek, and he raised his eyebrows in amusement. “I’m assuming that’s a request for another kiss,” he observed before returning it. You two continue kissing each other back and forth, keeping warm from the blushing and your bodies pressed together, safe from the snowy weather outside.

The universe is good to you today. It’s been good to you every day since you met Will.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

DATING HAN LUE HEADCANONS

pairing: han lue x reader

word count: ~2k

warnings: 18+, no smut perse but mentions of it, language, not much really, this is pretty tame

a/n: hello there! it's been a while since i've written for this lovely man but i recently found this on my notes and figured it's a good time to finish it. this was a request i got a while ago, it was by an anon so anon if you see this, i got you!!

the request only asked for dating headcanons so there's not much plot in here unlike the waitress one.

i feel really bad cause i got my han girlies on my inbox asking for more han content and i've been jumping from fandom to fandom. i just need the last movie to come out to fuel the love i have for han.

enjoy <3

Han is a man who prefers long term relationships. Amongst a life full of chaos he relishes on those relationships he can lean back and find calm and comfort, someone he can rely on.

Doesn’t mean Han's not into hook ups though. Whenever he’s single he’ll have his fair share of one nights stands. At the end of the day he's a man with needs, especially since he loves putting his life on the line.

Han he keeps people in boxes: friends, off limits, hookups, and relationship material. Of course there’s also that box with bright red letters that spell TOXIC. Most people in that box are one night stands that thought they stood a chance after a hookup and became a little unhinged.

Whenever Han finds that person that is relationship material he doesn’t let them go. He’ll pursue them in his cool and nonchalant way. He’ll compliment them so smoothly they won’t notice until much later.

Han will invite you out to do random stuff, wording it as 'errands' and it’s only in the middle of it that you realize it’s a date. Lunch followed by a scenic walk in a park in Tokyo and then dessert? Definitely a date. It’s perfect because it takes those first date jitters out of the way.

You fall in love with him way too quickly and Han knows when you do. It's your own fault because once you realize you're head over heels you become this mumbling, blushing mess.

It was a smooth transition from friends to dating to being in a relationship and it's all because of Han. He's great at reading people and it helped him ease your nerves and figure out how you were feeling with every outing.

With entering a new relationship there's a period of getting to know the other person. Han is an open book, he doesn't see the point of hiding anything with the girl that might be his future. You either accept him as he is now or you don't and that's the end. He has nothing to hide although he tiptoes around his late teens.

When Han tells you of his life as a fugitive you don't believe him. You laugh in his face. Like, “Yeah, sure. You pulled off a heist in Brazil and stole from the richest mafia man with your posey of misfits. Hilarious.” Han shrugs and moves on.

You could've googled it but you don't. You just think Han had a rough upbringing he doesn’t like to talk about. Which is partly true but not the case. It comes to bite you in the ass afterwards.

Moving on, Han is not a fan of pecks on the lips. If it’s not a kiss that lasts more than 5 seconds don’t fucking bother. He’s an all or nothing kinda man, you know?

I mean it’s not like Han will fight you if you do but it's visible how he's left wanting more. You’ve learned your lesson the hard way. You’re in a rush and to say goodbye you quickly peck him on the lips and then Han will pull you back in and plant a good kiss in, successfully making you even more late.

That being said Han adores kisses on the forehead or temple or back of the head. Han will randomly walk up to you while you do chores around the apartment and press a kiss to the back your head with his hands on your hips. Then he’ll walk off like nothing happened, leaving you all ☺️☺️.

Dating Han includes spending nightfall in each others arms. Resting in the increasingly comfortable sofa and raking your fingers through his hair, coaxing him to stay in.

"Do you have to go out, Hannie?" You whisper, scratching on his scalp making him shudder.

"I told them I'd be there." Han's response is muffled as he gets more comfortable, his face pressed against your breasts.

"But do you have to?" You insist as your other hand goes to scratch his back.

"I guess I can stay in and see them tomorrow night," Han sighs as he relaxes even more against you. He's far too comfortable and this cuddling will soon evolve into something much more exciting by the way you're hanging on to him.

For a time there Han pauses his life for you. He stops going to the races and ignores the calls of the Toretto crew to nurture your growing relationship.

By pausing Han completely ignores that other part of his life leading the Toretto gang to come to Tokyo. It’s not like Han meant to ignore them he was just enjoying his time with you so much that he didn’t realize how much time had gone. We’ll get into that later.

Han is not one to argue a lot. If you’re annoyed at him for one reason or another he’ll take it and try to distract you. Whether it’s by calling you a sweet nickname or holding you or kissing you.

But if it’s about something that puts you at risk Han will put his foot down. You went out with your friends late at night and walked home alone? Unacceptable. Do you know how many sickos are out there? That's when real arguments form because you can be so stubborn and independent. You can handle yourself. Han trusts you fully, it's the outside world he doesn't trust.

If you prioritize your job instead of your well being? Nope. Han will have to step in. Hell you don’t have to work if you don’t want to. He has enough money for the two of you. The idea of being taken care of like that is so tempting but you do like having your own life and money.

Sleepy, morning ‘I love you’s.’ That’s when he says those three words the most. You typically wake up before him so you’ll play with his hair and trace your fingertips on his back to softly wake him up.

It's mid morning and you've just woken up. You turn in bed to find Han sleeping on his stomach, his long hair covering his eyes and tickling his cheeks.

You brush the hair away from Han's face, tracing your fingertips over his face to softly wake him. You'd typically let him sleep in more but you had plans for the day and he insisted in driving you around.

He starts to stir and softly groans. Your hands go to his naked back, because he loves when you do that. "Good morning, handsome."

"Morning," he says, opening his eyes and looking at you. His voice deeper and rougher than normal. He clears his throat and pull you to him, kissing your head and muttering an, "I love you."

"I love you, more," you say, kissing his chest before wiggling out of his arms, "Time to get up, you promised me to take me to brunch before going to the grocery store."

Han will absolutely let you drive his precious car. Whenever you want to for as long as you want to. Doesn’t matter if you scratch it or pop a tire. He can fix his car no problem. As long as you're safe he's all in for it.

Will silently get off on you driving fast and changing the gears of the car expertly. At that moment Han is a spectator and you're the show. He understands all the other girls he's either been with or hooked up with and how they got turned on at him driving.

Driving a fast car is sexy.

Han is the kinkiest yet softest lover ever. He will try anything at least once but is not into the harsher parts of BDSM. Spanking and bondage is okay he sees the appeal and he likes it but not the crazy parts of it. Han's favorite position is when you ride him. Not reverse cowgirl though because he likes seeing your face and your chest bouncing. He loves your expressions and hearing the curses that slip from your lips.

Han is a slut for long, messy make out sessions. The one's that start slow and then build up. His tongue in your mouth or his in yours he doesn't have a preference. Your hands in his hair, pulling on it. Wandering hands but not going anywhere. The ones where when he pulls away there's a string of saliva between you two.

I'm sorry but Han is a handsy man. In public he'll hold back so he'll keep a hand on your hips or waist, an arm around your shoulder is more common though. If he's being cheeky he'll grab your ass in public. In private though? Oh, hands always on you. Hand on your ass, hand on your tit, on your thigh, always a hand on you.

Han loves to buy you clothes and lingerie. He takes note on what clothes you like and will buy you a bunch of those but will also buy you clothes he would go crazy seeing you wear. He will demand you model them for him.

Clothes like a little black dress, four or five inch, expensive, high heels, lacy lingerie sets. You will model them but then you'll end up in his bed, clothes still on.

Han is quiet in public but in private, with you? That man loves to yap, especially when you get him to talk about things he's extremely passionate about. It's hard to get him to shut up.

Han won't succumb to his friends teasing him about the fact that his whipped, or a simp, oor any nonsense like that. He has you and he loves you. There's nothing to be ashamed of.

The day Domenic Toretto knocks on your shared home is the day you're thrown for a spin.

Han is right behind you greeting one of his closest friends. He introduces you two happily, urging Dom to come in and take a seat.

You stay right besides Han in the couch across from the big man. You've heard a lot about Dom and it's all been great things. You're just shocked at the surprise visit.

They make small talk until Dom says, "We need your help, Han."

"Anything, Dom."

When Dom leaves you're too quiet. Han approaches you, giving you a look, "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? This man just came here to ask for your help in a secret mission to take down this dangerous mercenary. How do you think I feel?" You exclaim overwhelmed at what was discussed.

"You sound very surprised. I told you about Brazil and my past," Han cocks his head curiously.

"I didn't think it was real, Hannie!" You yell, "I thought you had a rough upbringing and this was your way to joke and cover it up."

"I'm sorry," Han apologizes, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Are you really doing this?" You ask, scared of what might happen now.

"I have to. They need my help," Han responds, cupping your face in his hands. There are tears in your eyes, afraid of the new reality. Gone are the days of ignorant bliss.

"What about me?" The question was heavy and loaded. You only asked one question but there were hundreds in disguise.

"I'll be back in no time. You will stay here and stay safe, alright?"

Han left early the next morning. He woke you up with a hand on your cheek and another in your back. Han gave you a long, sweet kiss and whispered 'I love you.'

You were left at home with all this new information, your computer to google Brazil, and time.

ta-daaaa. i hope you guys enjoyed this. i know it's not a lot but i feel like i would be repeating myself since dating han headcanons is very much like the waitress headcanons, except without a plot.

i'm trying to get back into writing for han it's just a little hard since i feel like all my fictional crushes are pulling me apart, begging for my attention. my love for han is always there it's just not string enough to make me sit and write a lot. it's why i need this movie to come out asap.

you guys have been so patient so thank you for that. in any case i hope you like or enjoy some of my other work while i try and bring back han <3

[yawujin]

Do you think you can do the allies + axis (separate) x a bratty s/o that’s super needy but constantly try’s to demand stuff and boss them around and is just kinda a very run of the mill brat. Like how would they deal with them?..and can it be a bit nsfw….pretty please with a cherry on top..

hehe sure ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ here you go ! 🪄

{ request } allies & axis x a bratty! s/o 💭 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

type/content warnings • nsfw content , established relationship , they/them pronouns used , mentions of bondage , marking , rough sex , sub/dom dynamics

allies ♥︎

america/alfred f. jones

he finds their neediness kind of cute, writing it off as something that just comes with being in a relationship with them. soon, he comes to find out just how bossy they are. usually, he's a pushover and it's fairly easy to make him do the stuff they want, but every now and then he doesn't give in, puts his foot down and reminds them he too can be bossy, in charge and, that he knows how to put a brat in their place. they must be careful with whatever sexual favor they ask him to do, because he might just turn around and make them do it instead (i feel like he'd be petty in that way, and use them for his entertainment) 'can't tell me what to do now that your mouth is full, huh? '

england/arthur kirkland

whenever his partner is acting up─if he feels like it─he'll take the calm route and plead with them. 'please, love, behave...' however, if he's feels they are demanding too much from him, his attitude will switch up. he'll be very domineering, crass and rather rough with how he handles them from then on.

'say it... who do you belong to?'

france/francis bonnefoy

he gives them what they want, within reason. if they demand too much, don't worry, he puts up a good bargain. when they continue to act up, he'll turn serious─giving them one final ultimatum. "do as i say, or you will be shown who is truly the boss here." knowing them, and how they act...france gears up to give them something he's sure to make them behave... at least for a little while

canada/matthieu williams

seeing as he is already bossed around by his colleagues, they can bet he is not going to take the same treatment from his own partner. he's quick to make himself known as the one in charge, faster than they thought. he tells them to 'shut up and quit with the brattiness before i fuck it out of you' in such a sweet voice, it sounded more like a loving promise than a threat.

russia/ivan braginsky

don't. even. try. he shuts that bratty act of theirs down so quick, they barely have time to start. he can only take being bossed around for so long , until he finally has enough. he has his hands wrapped tightly around their waist as he rests his chin on their shoulder. "please behave, won't you? it will make me very happy. you want both of us to be happy, yes?" and in case they couldn't tell, that's russian for don't fuck around and find out.

china/yao wang

he's very secure in himself that─he doesn't feel the need to intimidate them into submission. he doesn't do everything they ask of him, only the things he wants to do or wants them to enjoy. he has his own special way of dealing with them and that's getting them hot and bothered enough to try and rile him up. do things for him. that's right, china finesses his way into making them do something for him instead of the other way around. it usually involves promising them some type of reward for good behavior. but first, they must please him and act accordingly. "...you're doing so good for me." he praises.

axis ♥︎

n. italy/feliciano vargas

has a method similar to china's. it's a give and take relationship. italy does a few things for them, and in return they behave.

usually turning out really wholesome, with italy cuddling with them since they're soooo needy─he admits that it kind of turns him on when they boss him around so much. "i wouldn't mind being there anytime you need me." he sighs happily, burying his face deeper into their arms.

germany/ludwig beilschmidt

he usually likes it when they tell him what to do. he's a very organized man who is very good at following orders. he doesn't like it so much when they act like a brat, so he makes sure to take care of that ASAP. he's lowkey begging them to behave, telling them that he'll do anything to make them act right...not knowing that he's kind of allowing them to act up even more. poor germany...he's a lil' confused but he's got the spirit. "if i fuck you like this, then will you behave?"

japan/kiku honda

he's literally like no then goes on to use shibari as a way to torture them into submission. "if you keep acting like that, i'll have you tied up everyday from now on." it's a tempting threat but they know that japan's willpower and discipline could really mean that he'd have them tied up without relief for a long, long time. it's their choice on whether or not they want to behave, but they will always know what will happen if they don't. this makes it especially exciting for japan, with him knowing that their behavior will be unpredictable each day.

s. italy/lovino vargas

he lets them carry on throughout the day, holding himself back and pretending that their brattiness does not have any effect on him. that is, until the end of the day, where he makes them beg before him. he would want to hear them plead for him to not be so rough, when that was all he could think about the entire day. he ends up leaving a few marks behind to remind them what will happen if they don't behave. "mmm." he hums lowly. "this is what you get for trying to tell me what to do..."

prussia/gilbert beilschmidt

okay so, it takes him a while to get bothered by it because their brattiness is all just kind of a game to him. sure, he gives them what they want but as he slowly sees that they won't be satisfied until they get a rise out of him, he begins to think of ways he can tease them back, make them beg him to stop. he laughs when he sees his brat whine. "is this not what you wanted?" he grins. "i know it's what i wanted." prussia revels in his ability to make them act like this. he hopes that they continue simply because he loves the feeling of dominating them.

[ember-owlet]

art credit : @/koifee 🧵

a/n: this was written before arcane season 2 drops to give us all some form of comfort for the inevitable angst rollercoaster we're all about to embark on (and as of a few days ago a very frightening turn of events in the US). i'm writing this on a personal assumption of events from season 2's "nothing to lose" clip. therefore, this might not be anywhere near the canonical reason behind the caitvi breakup/pitfighter era. regardless, i hope you enjoy firelights. we're in this together. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

dynamic: cg! caitlyn x regressor! vi

summary: caitlyn checks in on vi after receiving concerns from her subordinate. despite the bitter tension that weighs on them, caitlyn gets her cleaned up, and vi experiences regression for the first time as snuggles ensue.

content warnings: moderate swearing, mention of excessive alcohol consumption, descriptions of being vi being bathed (in a sfw context), light mention of vomit, description of physical injuries from fist fights.

((stay safe little firelights, you can always come back to this when you're ready))

Knock knock

The letter crumpled and contorted under Caitlyn's grip with each repetitive knock against the dingy door. The silence clawed deeply at the enforcer's chest.

"Commander, she needs serious help. Go salvage what's left of her drunk ass before she does something stupid. You won't have to go far, she's right where you left her." The insubordination in his warning mattered little; nothing else consumed Caitlyn's thoughts but the mission to ensure Violet's safety.

She wasn't entirely clear on how the door pried itself from its hinges, or how she managed to enter the dwelling other than with sheer desperation to see its inhabitant's face. And, if not for the thundering adrenaline coursing through her, the greeting of pungent stale odor would have made her recoil. The radiation of artificial light pooled from the window grid before her, muddying the sharp and pristine uniform in a putrid stale glow.

"Vi!?" Caitlyn surveyed the room with a renewed frenzy. Each step in the cramped space met with the clink of her heel against the sea of empty bottles that littered the floor.

She found the girl's sleeping, labored breaths curled further into her shuddering frame. Her Violet, who could topple armies with mere fists, the unbreakable pillar of Zaun, lay powerless to the elements.

"Violet, you need to get up," Caitlyn pushed against the inked and exposed skin, her words a command rather than a warm greeting. Vi awoke with a few struggling attempts, slow and drowsy to her reality. Caitlyn couldn't help but notice how sour she smelled as her words slurred.

"...Cait? 'M sorry I should've-"

"When was the last time you ate? Or had a decent shower?" Her irritation soon succeeded the anxiety. She watched as Vi struggled to grasp how the girl she had agonized over for months on end suddenly appeared in her room.

"Why're you here?" She stumbled in an upright position, brushing at the wild mane that shrouded her face. "Fuck, what time is it?"

Caitlyn tsked, reaching a hand out towards her. "I'm saving your life before you throw it away." She wanted to gift Vi the smallest act of dignity in deciding how the night would turn for herself. The wall between them heightened with hesitation in her inebriated state. Caitlyn sighed, bridging the gap to her halfway through averted gaze. "... and I won't sit by to watch you suffer."

Vi ached at the memory of bitter words past exchanged, swallowing her pride and taking Caitlyn's hand to lean against her as her world spun viciously toward the bathroom.

---

If not for the pounding headache and wobbling vision, Vi would have been completely against the idea of being disrobed by Caitlyn. She could take care of herself, especially with something as simple as removing her garments, surely?

But against her better judgment, something indescribable came over Vi as Caitlyn lowered her into the tub; a haziness that differed from the fog of alcohol or the instant gratification of being knocked unconscious. Her mind was completely occupied in the present. She was captivated by the rushing sounds of the bathtub water, the smell of Caitlyn's rich perfume moving closer to her, and the smoky aftertaste that burned against her parched throat.

It felt.. safe?

Caitlyn wrung the washcloth, lathering what little was left of the shower gel to scrub at the buildup of dirt and stomach acid Vi had accumulated. With time, the water darkened to an inky pool, the smudges of Vi's face paint dripping across her worn muscles to collect below.

"...'M sorry." Vi's words fumbled in a whispered blur. A gasp reddened her clean and softened features, slowly eclipsing her face further into the tub. She could barely bring herself to look away from her reflection in the water. She must've sounded so pathetic.

"What?"

Caitlyn hesitated, noticing the change in Vi's demeanor sink further into the murky water. Not wanting to rouse the sheer embarassment that radiated off of her companion, Caitlyn continued to wipe at her tear-streaked complexion.

"That's alright, " she uttered, the warm fabric rubbing gentle circles into Vi's cheek. Caitlyn felt Vi collapse into her touch and exhaled a sigh of relief. Their heartbeats slowed, and as Caitlyn held Vi in her hands their eyes wove a tale that their mouths ceased to thread. Vi knew her thoughts betrayed her with each moment in Caitlyn's embrace, it pulled her deeper into that foreign hazy feeling through half-lidded expressions. The agonizing months of betrayal, longing, remorse, and forgiveness, exchanged in a glance.

----

The bed would barely compensate for the exhausted pair that collapsed atop the springs. Caitlyn met the harsh bedframe with a loud thud against her back, groaning and rubbing at the sore spot to shift into a less-than-awkward position. She lifted her beret above her head to rest it on the ledge above them.

Vi had found little resistance in curling into Caitlyn's arms and nuzzling further into the side of her neck. The taller and lankier woman couldn't help but chuckle at the situation she'd found herself in. Surely, this was the farthest outcome she could have expected when knocking on Violet's door. Nonetheless, the change was welcomed with open arms.

"Comfortable?" Caitlyn inquired with a grin, hands running through the dampened punch-pink hair. Vi's nose grazed the side of her neck with a shallow nod in reply. The light vibrations of her purring brought a feeling of peace to the enforcer's racing mind as she held her closer. Without giving it much thought, Cait placed a feathery kiss against her companion's head, allowing the warmth radiating off of her freshly bathed skin to envelop her.

This was the feeling she'd been searching for. Strenuous nights of being the Commander of Piltover came with the crushing weight of responsibility over the thousands of lives entrusted to her care. And, the conversation between them was far from over. Caitlyn could see this new side of Vi seemed far too vulnerable to engage in meaningful discussion of ending a war. But, at least for tonight, despite the faction lines, the hymn of the Undercity woman's mumbling made Caitlyn's heart soar. It was beyond the feeling of being needed; she was wanted. Relieved, she turned away from the glaring lights of the city, pulling Vi closer to her chest and the two succumbed to their soft slumber.