#and at the point they meet he's the last dark side to be revealed so thomas' views of good and evil have drastically changed by then

[sulumuns-dootah]

Okok, I don’t know if your taking reqs…but I read your ‘avoiding them because of a dare’ and got the idea…what if it wasn’t because of a dare, but because you were threatened into avoiding them by a decently strong demon, stronger than us at least

WHB kings' reaction to MC avoiding them due to being threatened by a different demon

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Ooh, your mind! This is some juicy idea right there :D

The demon threatening MC is in all instances the same: a Hades demon with the ability to lie and be invisible (and won't heistate to use either to make sure MC doesn't just run to the kings)

Warning: Things get kinda dark

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Satan noticed you haven't been around much

And whenever you happened to be in his viscinity, you looked panicked and tried to get away as soon as possible

Did he do something?

Emergency meeting! Nobles assemble!

Everyone is helpless and has no answers

Then Amy bursts into the room:

"Ayo, I think this might have something to do with this weirdo from Hades that's been hanging around here pretty much since this all started?"

And everyone including Satan lights up like !!!

So the next time you're somewhere alone Amy's gang pulls up and Amy tries to get some answers

But you're too affraid your stalker is somewhere nearby and won't hesiatte to do something to you within the blink of an eye if you tell

So Amy's guys leave

And ofc, once they're out of there, he appears

Just as he's about to say something, Satan appears out of nowhere and... uh... let's the demon know the full power of Satan's wrath

       ༺☆༻

This time it's actually Bimet who notices your absence

He doesn't even bother to tell Mammon, because he'd think it's another one of those bets

But this time it feels kinda sketchy to Bimet

So he looks up your Tartaros bank statement to see where you've been spending you money

...

Why are you buying self-defense items and books on how to fight demons stronger than you?

Okay, now that has to alarm even Mammon

Bimet storms into Mammon's office without a care in the world and reveals all his findings

Somewhere around that time you start noticing meeting the same demons over and over again and it's almost like they're all just observing you

Nah... It has to be your paranoia getting to you so yous hake it off

Until your demon stalker catches yoiu off guard by pulling you into some back alley between shops

You don't even have the chance to scream and the moves from your book are useless too

At this point you're already accepting that his is the way you die...

But then the three demons you've been seeing everywhere flood after you and the next thing you know, your stalker's on the ground and one of them is making sure you're okay

       ༺☆༻

This situation kinda poses a question: if two demons are invisible, do they see each other or not? i would imagine that either invisibility is a different layer of reality and they would then see each other... or it's not that and they wouldn't see each other

Anyways...

Leviathan would know from the beginning since Foras is looking after you most of the time

If your stalker is smart enough to somehow figure out the times you're alone, he might actually pull it off

If it weren't for Foras immediatelly noticing the change of your demeanor since the last time he was around

He will ask you what is going on, but if you don't tell him, he'll have to tell Leviathan

So you tell him and eventually, with a bit of a help from Glasyalabolas, you come up with a plan

The next time he comes to threaten you, you say a special phrase, which will summon all the nobles to your side and they'll deal with him

Unfortunatelly that plan failed succesfully in experience

Your stalker did come up to you in another absence of Foras, but Leviathan himself just happened to be around and heard everything he said

Yeah, that guy is now a permanent ceiling decoration in the Hades castle

       ༺☆༻

Talking about near-constant supervision

Your stalker's plan would've worked out if it weren't for one small, buzzing, tiny problem

Even on the go, Beel wants to know where you are, what you're doing and so on

To you it's already normal so you don't even notice the constant buzzing sound following your around

The stupid demon doesn't even have the chance to finish his threat to you before a familiar chuckle signifies danger

It shouldn't be so satisfying to see the fear in your assiliant's eyes, but here we are

With a sliver of hope, he turns around to run away, but Beel's having none of it

Beel catches him under the neck and hugs him close to himself while looking at you mischievously

"Soo~ Y/N! What do you think I should do about your friend over here?"

       ༺☆༻

Similarly like with the dare, Belphie would notice your absence but won't think much of it

So when he casually asks Beleth what you're up to and what's gotten you busy and only sees blank stares of realisation on all of his nobles' faces, the hunt is on

You're just somewhere out in nature, already given up all hope and trying to get reclaimed by nature when a black void swallows you up without any prior notice

It feels like you're floating and getting crushed by the nothing around you

But then as you looka round, you see Belphie who looks way too awake

Oh shit

You're gonna die

!!!

Okay, you don't die, but Belphie questions you in more of a bad cop way

After you hastily explain your situation, ending with tears in your eyes, Belphie just smirks and walks over to you

As he hugs you, the void around you starts to dissipate and you start feeling something soft underneath you

Well... To be fair, your stalker would be really dumb to try doing something to you while you're in the very same bed with the king of Sloth himself

       ༺☆༻

Ignoring the fact that this is literally the canon :D

Let's just say that you've been around Asmodeus long enough to get infected with is energy

Staying away from him at that point becomes agonisingly painful

The heat is always there and it seems like nobody except for him is able to lessen it even if for a few hours

So sorry, random Hades demon, not gonan happen

From that point on you decide to stay in Abaddon because which sane demon from outside Hell would voluntarily go to Abaddon?

And if you happen to venture out, you always make sure to be with another demon

If you tell about your predicament some other fellow Abbadonians, they'll pose many interesting questions and scenarios:

Would he recognise if it was some other demon disguised as you?

and

If he did cause you pain and you seemed to enjoy it, would he be disgusted or encouraged by it?

       ༺☆༻

Avoiding Lucifer wasn't so hard since he barely leaves his ward of the hospital

But still, even going to the hospital was a potential risk of meeting him

So just make sure you don't need a doctor and you're good, simple...

Well it would be, if the crazed demon didn't leave you every so often with a warning in a form of you waking up in the morning with few cuts and they only keep getting worse

To the point that you have no other choice but to go to Paradise Lost and ask one of the nobles to stitch your wounds together

Buer, bless him, did eventually agree to keep your visit a secret

So everything went well, right? Nope

A certain baby dragon was so excited that you visited the hospital after so long that he jingled to Lucifer's room the instant he heard your voice

So while you're anxiusly waiting to be discharged, your heart sinks the moment Lucifer walks into the infirmary

He... seems calm and collected?

Luci just reads you file and casually looks over your treated wound, running his finger over the bandages

"I see you've been well, Y/N. Haven't seen you here lately. Try to keep them as clean and sterile as possible, okay?"

Somehow you make your way out of the hospital kinda... disappointed...? No scene or anything?

(This is getting to long so I'll just summarise)

After you're out of the hospital, the demon attacks you but the second he lays his hand on you, he's frozen i place and Lucifer appears out of nowhere

Turns out that Luci drew a protective sigil on your bandages to alert him when your attacker tries to do something again

[argumentativantitheticaldream]

𝔇𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔲𝔩𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔥 || 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

"ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯, 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰"

-𝔅𝔯𝔞𝔪 𝔖𝔱𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯

Warnings: blood-sucking? and fingering

I could see something in his demeanour had switched, his eyes more bloodshot and hungry. If I wasn't scared before I was now. My heart thudded in my chest, faster than usual, but it wasn’t just fear it was something else. My hand stung, where the paper had sliced my skin earlier. A thin bead of blood welled up, and I couldn’t stop staring at it, the tiny red droplet reflecting the candlelight in the dark. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto my hand, and I felt a strange pull, as if he could already taste it. My pulse quickened. I wanted to hide it, press my hand against my side. “Don’t,” He whispered, his voice was husky and strained as if he was trying so hard to resist.

I stepped back, my heart pounding in my chest. “I'll just clean it-” I whispered, trying to steady my voice. “You don’t have to do this.”

His eyes were heavy and dark, and his lips parted to reveal two white teeth drawn to a sharp point, he spoke as though the words hurt him. “I… I can’t stop,” he rasped, his voice low and strained. “Let me, Darling.” He reached out, his fingers twitching like they were drawn to me, but he hesitated. “I don't want to but it’s so loud, I can hear it rushing through your veins.”

I open my palm and inspect the cut. My eyes fluttering up to meet his, he looked starved and relentless.

“Please,” he cut me off, his voice thick with desperation. “I need it. I can’t—” He closed his eyes, as though trying to resist, but his face twisted with a hunger I could feel in the air. “I’m begging you. Just a drop.”

I nod in slight admission, my chin dipping only slightly as I was still hesitant. But before I had time to second guess his hand wrapped around my ankle, his white-knuckle grip was painful almost filled with unspoken desperation in it, something raw and frantic, as if he’s holding on to the last thread of control. The way his fingers dig into my skin sends a shiver through me, not just from fear, but from the weight of his unspoken need.

He tugs once and pulls me forward, my dress had bunched up at my waist from the friction against the woolen rug. His eyes dipped to the sight between my thighs but they drew hungrily back to my hand. Swiping the blood once with his thumb, the sting echoed through my palm and an involuntary wince slipped into the stagnant air. "Is it enough?" My voice came out mumbled and weary as if the blood that seeped through my hand wasnt enough to satisfy the hunger burning in his eyes.

He tilted his head, dark strands of hair falling across his face, shadowing the sharp line of his jaw. The faint, metallic scent of blood seemed to tether his focus to me, his gaze flickering to the crimson streak trailing along his thumb. Slowly, deliberately, he brought it to his lips, his movements carrying an unspoken restraint that only heightened the palpable tension between us.

The silence stretched, heavy and unrelenting, save for the soft inhale he took when the blood met his tongue. His eyes closed, lashes brushing his pale cheeks, and when they opened again, they burned with something both primal and restrained.

"No," he finally said, voice low and gravelly. His words were measured, but his gaze stayed locked on my hand, on the fresh wound still glistening in the dim light. "Not enough."

My breath hitched as he reached for my wrist, his grip surprisingly gentle but unyielding. The coolness of his skin was a jarring contrast to the heat pulsing from the cut. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over my knuckles as his lips hovered a fraction above the wound. The moment stretched, every nerve in my body screaming at the anticipation.

"Then take it," I whispered, though the words quivered with a mix of defiance and fear. The room seemed to shrink, the world narrowing to the sharp press of his fangs just before they pierced my skin.

The initial pain subsided and was replaced by an unfamiliar pleasure, the feeling shot through my veins and I watched his expression through my lashes that fluttered from the sensation. His eyes grew heavier but were less bloodshot.

His grip on my wrist slowly softened, the bruising pressure turning into something oddly tender, his thumb brushing against my pulse in time with the rhythm he drew from me. A shiver rolled down my spine as I watched his lips, parted and stained with crimson, move with restrained hunger.

"You taste..." he murmured, his voice rough, almost reverent, before trailing off, his gaze flicking to mine with a dangerous intensity. My heart skipped, and I couldn't tell if it was fear, exhilaration, or both that made me feel as though I was falling into him.

His words hung in the air, unfinished but heavy with meaning, pulling me further into the strange, intimate thrall of this moment. I should have been terrified, repulsed even, but instead, a deep, inexplicable curiosity bloomed within me. My skin felt feverish under his touch, every nerve ignited as though my body had forgotten the difference between pleasure and pain.

His lips left my skin, and I gasped softly at the cool air replacing the heat of his mouth. A faint trickle of blood lingered on my hand, catching the dim light, but he didn’t move to wipe it away. Instead, he stared at me, his breathing uneven, his chest rising and falling as though he had just come up for air after drowning.

“You shouldn’t let me do this,” he said finally, his voice low and hoarse, yet tinged with something that almost sounded like regret.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. What could I possibly say? That I had wanted him to? That the rush, the heat, the heady pull of his presence had stripped away any semblance of reason?

“Why...?” I managed to whisper, unsure if I was asking why he stopped or why he had started in the first place.

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the mark he had left on my skin. The faint trace of his fangs still lingered there, twin crescents of crimson against the pale backdrop of my hand. He lifted his fingers to hover over it but didn’t touch.

“Because I might not stop next time.” he said, his tone dark and warning.

"What happens if you can't stop?" My voice held naive curiosity, but I needed to know. The question lingered in the cold air between us, sharp as the pain biting at my skin. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them before he looked away, his jaw tightening.

"You don't want to know." he said finally, his voice low, almost a growl.

"I do," I pressed, moving closer despite the warning edge in his tone. "Tell me. Please."

His shoulders tensed, the air around him crackling with a tension that made me regret asking. He turned to face me then, and the storm in his gaze stole my breath. "Stop pressing." He demanded, his voice stern and final.

Slowly ans tenderly, his calloused fingertips traced a line up my forearm and his voice softened to a deep mumble. "Sorry," He paused "Darling" The sorrow in his tone was evident, an indicator that he knew he'd lost his temper but I didn't dare ask again. Afraid of the consequences.

His hand wraps around my upper arm, firm yet cautious, as if pushing the boundaries of restraint. His cold touch sends a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, my breath catches. He leans in closer, his eyes dark, unreadable, yet magnetic. The air between us feels charged, thick with unspoken tension.

"Come here." he says, his voice a low, velvety murmur that seems to echo in the stillness of his chateau.

I hesitate, rooted in place, unsure if I’m captivated by fear or need. The pull is undeniable, like the tide yielding to the moon, and yet my heart pounds in defiance.

"Why?" I manage to whisper, though my voice trembles.

His lips curve into the faintest hint of a smile, enigmatic, predatory. "Because you want to."

The words coil around me, unsettlingly true, and before I can think to argue, his grip tightens ever so slightly, guiding me forward.

His arm slides from my upper arm to wrap around my back, pulling me into him. The movement is fluid, almost too smooth, as though he’s done this countless times before. His other arm follows, encircling me completely. I’m struck by the contradiction of his touch cold as ice, yet somehow comforting, like the frost that blossoms at nightfall. His embrace isn’t forceful, but there’s a strength there, a quiet dominance that makes me feel both trapped and safe all at once.

My head tilts slightly, brushing against the firm plane of his chest. His scent surrounds me, faint but intoxicating a mix of something earthy, like cedar, and something sweetly metallic. Blood.

I don’t know why I don’t pull away. My instincts scream that I should, but the steady rhythm of his breathing, so measured and calm, anchors me.

"Is this what you wanted?" he murmurs into my hair, the low vibration of his voice sending a jolt through me. "Comfort?"

His fingers thread into my hair and brushing through the strands, combing through the knots and the worries. I instinctively lean in, the magnetic pull not allowing me to do anything else.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his words soft and muffled against my hair. His head dips closer, and I can feel the subtle press of his lips as they find the tender spot just behind my ear. A shiver races down my spine, unbidden, as he lingers there, his lips brushing with deliberate gentleness.

"So sweet," he whispers, the words grazing my skin like velvet. His voice is low, intimate, a tone that feels like it was meant to be heard by me and no one else. Each syllable seems to settle over me, wrapping around my senses and pulling me deeper into the moment.

My breath catches, barely audible, but he notices. I feel his lips curve into the faintest smile against my skin, a knowing gesture that makes my pulse quicken. His hand slides up the curve of my arm, fingers tracing a path that feels both delicate and deliberate, as if he's memorizing every inch.

"You have no idea, do you?" he murmurs, his voice like honey dripped in shadow. The words hang between us, heavy with meaning I can't quite grasp, or maybe I'm afraid to. His lips graze me again, this time slower, lingering as though savoring the moment, and I can feel the heat blooming where his breath lingers, spreading through me in waves.

His other hand, strong yet gentle, brushes my cheek, tilting my face ever so slightly toward him. My eyes flutter shut on instinct, my body betraying the tension that coils in my lower stomach. "I mean it," he says, his voice soft but commanding, as though daring me to question him. "You're perfect."

The words are a gentle reverence, but there’s something raw beneath them, something primal that sparks an ache in the space between us. I don't move, barely breathing, caught between the push and pull of his presence.

His words hang in the air, charged with an electricity I can’t name, and before I can respond, he shifts. His lips leave their place behind my ear, trailing a path down the curve of my neck. Each kiss is light, like the brush of feathers, but it leaves a burn in its wake, a tingling warmth that makes my pulse thrum against his mouth.

His lips find a spot near the hollow of my throat, and he pauses, exhaling softly against my skin. "So completely perfect," he murmurs, his voice lower now, almost a growl. There’s an edge to it, something unspoken but undeniable, and it makes my stomach flutter. The words seem to hum in the space between us, wrapping around me like a cocoon of heat.

I tilt my head slightly, almost instinctively, giving him more room, and he takes it. His teeth graze my skin, a fleeting touch, barely there but enough to send a rush of heat through my body. His hand on my back tightens slightly, drawing me closer until there's barely any space left between us.

My hands, which had been hovering uncertainly, find their place on his chest. The solidness of him under my fingertips is both reassuring and exhilarating. His heart is racing now, and the realization sends a thrill through me, he’s as affected as I am.

He leans back just enough to catch my eyes, his lips parted, his breath uneven. The intensity in his gaze pins me in place, as though the rest of the world has fallen away and there’s only this moment, only us. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he admits, his voice barely more than a rasp. His hand brushes a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek. "I've been watching you, you know?"

His words hold a dark tone but the way he looks at me makes me feel like the most extraordinary thing he’s ever seen, as though nothing else could ever compare. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and I can feel myself getting lost in it. His fingers find my thigh, sliding up them with deliberate tenderness. "Let me take care of you, love."

I nod once, my head dipping slightly. I part my lips to talk but the words get stuck in my throat, he pinches my flesh in acknowledgment and his voice comes out reassuring. "I know... I know, Sweetheart." My teeth catch my lower lip between them as to not risk making any noises too soon, not wanting to give him the satisfaction but as his knuckles brush against my panties I struggle to keep it that way.

His fingers brushed down the lace with a delicate reverence and his eyes met mine knowingly. "Look at you," He drawled, his voice low and dark. He moved over me, propping himself up with his arms so he didn't crush me. His fingers were still against me, the pressure filled me with unbearable torment. He slipped his calloused fingers under the fabric and glided them down, making me painfully aware of my wetness. A sharp gasp elicited from my lips and filled the space between us.

"Fuck-" He groans, the weight of his head dipped to brush my ear with his lips. The sound of his groan sent a shiver through me and when he nudged his fingers against my clit my head tilted back as a result of the shockwaves of pleasure.

My chest rose and fell rapidly as he teased and circled his fingers over my clit, eliciting a whine from my lips. "Shh, it's okay." His warm breath brushed my ear and he pushed my hair out of my face. "m'gonna take care of you" His words became lazy as he grew more hungry, the syllables blending together in a melodic string of sounds. Deep and low. He slowly pressed two fingers against my entrance allowing me to relax before pushing them forward roughly. His fingers curled inside me and a sharp moan spilled from my lips and hung in the air. I felt his lips curve against my ear and he started to pump his fingers in and out. His pace was relentless and unwavering as if he was determined to leave me trembling. Every stroke and curl of his fingers inside me pulled a gasp from my lips and he was revelling in it.

I could feel the familiar tension in my lower stomach, coiling tighter. A feeling I knew all too well. His pace didn't slow down when he'd noticed my legs starting to shake or my breath becoming faster. He kept up the relentless pumping of his fingers, the sound that filled the air was erotic; groans, gasps and the sound of his fingers moving in and out of me. My fingers curled around his arms and I dug my nails into it, a silent plea, a notice that I was close.

"You're so precious, Sweetheart" He groaned against my ear, seemingly more turned on than I was. I felt the wave of pleasure crash over me and my body shook with release, my eyes rolled back and when I'd managed to open them again he hovered over me, his fingers in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the glistening release.

“Jesus—” I breathed, my words stumbling over the weight of the moment. The air in my lungs caught as if snared in a vice, and my voice wavered, unsteady, trembling at the edges like fragile glass about to shatter.

Before I could say anything more, his voice sliced through the tension, sharp and certain, like the crack of a whip.

“I've got you, it's okay” he interrupted smoothly, each word rolling off his tongue with practiced ease.

His smile was a slow, deliberate thing, curling at the corners of his mouth like he was tasting a long-forgotten flavor. It wasn’t the kind of grin that came naturally; it bore the rust of disuse, a proud but faintly hollow gesture as if he’d unearthed it for the occasion. Yet, it still held power, sharp and disarming, like the glint of sunlight on a blade.

a/n: this was my first time writing smut 😬😬 i hope its okay not not rushed but i'll write more in the next part and hopefully it'll flow better i feel like the first half was so much better paced. anways, enjoy and give me suggestions because i'm running out of ideass

[sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes]

More spider!paranoia!Virgil for this AU

Time taken: 2 ½ hours

(the white writing is from ENA: Temptation Stairway because I imagine him to act quite similar to ENA, especially with the breakdowns)

[prythianpages]

Hopelessly Devoted | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader x Azriel | You're hopelessly devoted to Azriel, suspecting he’s your true love. Meanwhile, Eris is hopelessly longing after you. aka Eris being your mate but you're too infatuated with Az to notice.

warnings: slight angst, reader being a bit delulu

*also disclaimer that I am no expert in astrology and my knowledge is usually what I gathered from friends or tiktok so if I'm wrong, please correct me but do it nicely pls bc I am sensitive lol*

a/n: I wasn't sure whether to include Az or not in the pairing but I liked the idea of leaving this fic up to your interpretation. Anyway, happy reading! <3

As you entered the Night Court’s observatory, you traced your fingers along the edge of the great celestial map laid before you. You could feel the soft hum of magic beneath your fingertips, still smell the faintest hint of sage–a remnant of your father’s last ritual here. For centuries, your father has served as the Night Court’s astrologer. He’s guided and advised High Lord Rhysand and on occasion, Keir, the steward of the Court of Nightmares.

Above you, constellations and planets danced across the domed ceiling, the stars gleaming as though they were ready to whisper secrets just for you. You took a deep breath, centering yourself, and placed a palm flat against the massive zodiac wheel etched onto the floor. It began to glow, a warm golden light tracing symbols of the zodiacs and planets.

“Stars above and stars below, reveal the path I seek to know,” you quietly murmured.

The markings on the wheel shifted in response, aligning and realigning with clicking sounds, the warm golden light following. Then, your own chart had appeared, shimmering above you. It was a translucent web of stars and planets connected by silvery lines. You’ve read your birth chart many times, become so familiar with it that you knew it by heart even.

But tonight, you needed the extra reassurance. So you looked up, watching as the planets moved slowly. Your heartbeat a little faster as you spotted Jupiter making transit through your seventh house. The promise of growth, abundance, luck and most important of all, love filled the air. 

You slipped a small vial from the hidden pocket of your cobalt blue dress. The words Love Potion No.9 gleamed on the glass, the dark red liquid swirling. It was the enchanted perfume you’d bought from a witch last week—a little love potion designed to make you irresistibly alluring to your soulmate.

You felt a bit foolish, seeking a witch for guidance on love of all matters. Witches were frowned upon in the Court of Nightmares, after all. But impatience had finally nudged you to venture beyond the court’s dark mountain and into the surrounding forests, in search of someone who could help.

“Seek the one who walks between light and shadow with a mask of cool indifference, where fire meets the edge of night. There your heart shall find its match,” she had told you as she handed you the enchanted perfume.

Her words had only confirmed what you had been suspecting for years, centuries even.

Azriel was your soulmate. 

Azriel, the very embodiment of cool indifference, wore a mask of stoicism in the Court of Nightmares, just as High Lord Rhysand did. But his hazel eyes always seemed to burn with a hidden fire. And when you were alone with him, away from the cold nobility of the Night Court, Azriel would let that mask slip, revealing a kinder side that laughed and smiled with you. He was your friend and not only did he literally walk among shadows, he wielded them. It had to be him!

And then, there was your birth chart. Your seventh house lay in Taurus—a sign ruled by Venus. With Venus positioned in your twelfth house, everything pointed to the idea that your future soulmate would bring your happiness and pleasure. And since you met Azriel all those years ago during a counseling your father led, happiness had been an emotion you'd grown more familiar with.

The stars couldn’t have given you a clearer message!

**

There was a flutter in your stomach as you approached Azriel. The two of you had been stealing glances at one another, as you usually did anytime you found yourselves in the same place. He looked as beautiful as ever. As dreamy as ever. 

Though your High Lord and High Lady had moved to the center of the ballroom for a dance, he had stayed by the dais. “Hello,” you greeted him with a small smile.

Azriel turned to you, that mask of his slipping for just a brief moment to smile back at you. He took the extra wine glass in your hold, murmuring a small thanks. He turned his head back to the dance floor, attentive to his High Lady’s whereabouts. But he shifted closer to you, the coolness of his shadows caressing your bare arm and you couldn’t help but wonder if the perfume was working.

“You look nice,” he commented.

“Thanks.” A blush rose to your cheeks. You’d taken care to match your dress to the exact shade of his siphons. And he noticed. “So do you.”

“I wear this all the time.” Azriel replied drily, referring to his usual Illyrian leathers.

“Yeah, I know.” You cursed yourself inwardly for the awkward response, then shifted closer, leaning toward him. “Do I smell to you?”

Azriel paused, his shadows brushing close, as if curious themselves. “No,” he said after a moment.

“Oh.” Disappointment seeped into your voice despite your best efforts, and his gaze shifted to you, a hint of a frown in his brows.

“Do you want to smell?”

There’s a teasing edge to his tone, a subtle quirk of his lips. You shook your head, letting out a small, nervous laugh. "No. I just wanted to know if I smelled any…different…,” and then, in a much quieter tone, you murmured, “to you.”

Azriel considered your words. He looked to you in what seemed like permission. You gave a nod of your head and he leaned in, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. “You smell the same to me.” At the breath you let out, he quickly added: “which is good by the way. You smell nice.”

“Oh, okay,” you smile, albeit a bit awkwardly, the flutter you had felt in your stomach earlier twisting into a knot. 

“Y/n, is everything alright?” Azriel asked softly.

“Yeah, I just thought—” You stopped, not sure how to explain without sounding foolish. It wasn’t like you could admit to feeling disappointed over the lack of reaction from an enchanted perfume you’d spent quite a fortune on. Especially when he was the sole purpose for it. Had the witch scammed you?

Azriel waited for you patiently, concern flashing in his eyes. Maybe the perfume hadn’t worked, but the stars and planets had never led you astray. That still had to mean something, right? 

“I’m fine.” You finally said.

“Are you sure?”

The way he was looking at you had warmth creeping up your neck and settling deeper in your cheeks. “Yeah.”

A single shadow curled around Azriel’s ear and in the blink of an eye, his head turned. Your gaze followed his, to where Rhysand and Feyre were standing. Rhysand sent him a slight nod and with a sigh, Azriel returned it.

“Sorry, I have to go.” Azriel said, quickly downing the remaining wine from his glass.

You held out your hand, offering to take it for him.

“Thank you. I’ll be back. Don’t have too much fun without me, alright?”

“I’ll try not to,” you replied.

You watched Azriel disappear into his shadows before turning away from the dais and making your way to the refreshments table. You were eager for a refill on your glass. Perhaps a little more wine would help ease the sting of disappointment. But he’d said he’d be back, hadn’t he?

As you scanned the room, you noticed your father in conversation with one of Keir’s sons and your mother eyeing potential suitors for your older brother. As an elite warrior of the Darkbringers, he had no shortage of admirers, and it was only a matter of time before your mother secured him a match—perfect or not.

You suspected you’d be next on her matchmaking list, so you busied yourself with small talk among familiar ladies. Conversations were always a mind-numbing, the ladies your age exchanging beauty tips that centered around the male’s eye or fawning over this season’s most eligible males. Which this season just so happens to be your brother. Gross. If only they knew him the way you did….

Second to him was Bret—or some equally uninspiring name. A Scorpio, of all things, which clashed miserably with your chart. Not that it mattered. You had no interest in any noble of the Court of Nightmares. Or any male here. Most, if not all, were cruel and narcissists, only viewing females as child bearers and nothing more. 

There was a reason why this court was burdened with the title “Nightmares.”  And to marry someone from here would mean never waking up from this darkness. No stars to light your night skies, only endless shadow and despair.

So, you’d taken fate into your own hands. You’d turned to your birth chart, hoping the stars would lead you somewhere beyond Hewn City, beyond this never-ending nightmare. And they had. They led you to believe it was Azriel. Azriel, who was not only honorable and single but also, technically, part of the Court of Dreams. He’d been your friend for centuries, seeing you for who you are rather than an object or prize like most males here. 

As you sneak away from the conversation, you bump into something–someone. Behind you, a deep voice huffed a low, mocking chuckle. “Easy there, librarian.” 

You could recognize that voice anywhere, could recognize the heat radiating from him. It pressed down on you, leaving you simmering with irritation.

“I’m a libra, not a librarian.” You bit out. It hasn’t even been a minute and already you were exhausted by the searing presence behind you. “And besides, to you, it’s Lady Y/N.”

When you turned, you found Eris looming over you. His amber eyes gleamed with a familiar, infuriating mischief. He gave you that signature smirk of his, the one that made his sharp features all the more arrogant. “Such a harsh tone. Hardly fitting for a Lady.”

Your gaze hardened into a glare, only to have it stray toward a movement across the ballroom.  A flicker of shadow caught your attention, and your heart gave a small, hopeful jump as your gaze softened. There he was—Azriel.

He had returned to the ballroom…but he hadn’t returned to you…

Eris raised a glass to his lips, amber eyes flicking lazily between you and Azriel. “Disappointment doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not disappointed.” You muttered hastily.

He gave a scoff, his smirk widening with dark amusement. “Please. I can practically feel it.”

“Liar,” you shot back. 

“Azriel said he’d find me again and unlike you, he’s a male of his word,” you continued, not sure why you were telling Eris this. “He’s…”

Your words trailed off as you watched Azriel, who stood next to Nesta and Elain. He laughed–actually laughed!-- at something Elain had said, shadows absent from his frame as his focus remained solely on her. You couldn’t miss the soft smile playing on his lips, nor the warmth in his gaze. Did he do that with every female he knew? You thought he reserved that just for you…

The bubble in your chest slowly deflated.

“Keep dreaming,” Eris huffed out. He seemed to take special pleasure in your reaction. It prompted your cheeks to flush but this time, with irritation.

“Oh, go away, you prick,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?" he replied, leaning closer, his sharp gaze burning into you. You missed the flash of longing in his amber eyes, too focused on Azriel. Or the way the words that had been on the tip of his tongue faltered as your scent suddenly overwhelmed him, his breath hitching slightly.

 "You smell.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled absently.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice gruff and pupils flaring. “You smell different tonight…good...”

You blinked, barely processing his words. Was he actually being nice to you? In all the years you’ve known him, he’s always had snark remark after snark remark for you. The way it would roll smoothly off his tongue always left you wondering if he’d rehearse them for his visits to the Court of Nightmares. 

You fidgeted, fingers grazing your wine glass as you cast a hesitant glance back at Azriel. Your chest tightened as he remained engrossed in conversation with Elain. Turn around, please. But he hadn’t even looked your way once. 

Eris stepped in front of you, drawing your attention back to him. His gaze roamed over you, your dress. He took in the shade and he knew why you had chosen it–and for whom.  "You know," he said, his gaze lingering on your face.  "Red suits you far better.”

“And there he is, you’re back…”

"I’m serious. This—" He gestured to your gown with a slight grimace, his fingers brushing the silk fabric in disappointment. "This color washes you out. Red would bring out the color of your eyes…”

Your jaw clenched but you remained silent, refusing to admit that his words stirred something within you. Eris was insufferable, arrogant, and yet you couldn't deny his eye for detail. He, after all, was always dressed impeccably in the finest Autumn attire. But you would never give him the satisfaction of admitting he might be right.

His smirk widened, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Do you want to know another thing?”

“No,” you said immediately.

But he leaned in anyway, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re hopelessly devoted to a male who doesn’t even look your way.”

Your mouth opened, brows furrowing in protest, but he went on. His smirk softened, fading into a half-smile. One that didn’t reach his eyes, dimming the fire that usually burned so brightly there. And then, in a much quieter, reluctant tone, he murmured, “And I am no different, it seems.”

"But…" You stammered, resisting the urge to steal another glance at Azriel. "He does look my way…sometimes.”

Eris’s smile faded, his expression tightening. A flicker of pain crossed his face. So brief, you almost thought you imagined it.  "You’re delusional.”

“And you’re insufferable.” You scoffed, heart pounding.

“Better than being a fool.” 

The mocking tone was there but the usual sharpness had been softened by a strange, subtle sadness. Was this… pity?

You swallowed, lifting your chin defiantly. “The stars wouldn’t lie to me,” you said, though the conviction in your voice wavered. “He’s the one for me.”`

You met his eyes then and Eris held your gaze. His amber eyes warm and molten, the intensity of his stare prickling at your skin. An unsettling flutter erupted in your stomach, rising to your chest. A feeling you quickly dismissed when you felt something cool brush against your arm.

“Is he bothering you, y/n?”

Eris scoffed at the sudden presence beside you. It sickened him to see that sweet, adoring look on your face, the triumphant gleam in your eyes as you looked up at Azriel. The sight made Eris grit his teeth. His instincts roared at him, the fire in his veins was scorching.

You blinked, snapping out of your daze, realizing both males were waiting for your answer. “No,” you said but the way you shifted to stand behind Azriel said otherwise.

Azriel’s gaze hardened as he looked toward Eris. “Stay away from her,” he seethed.

A low growl rumbled from Eris’s chest as he took a step forward, his amber eyes flaring with rage. Though not as tall as Azriel, he seemed to tower over him at this moment. His teeth flashed as his lips curled into a snarl. “I do not take orders from bastards like you.”

Azriel’s wings tensed, threatening to unfurl and the movement of his shadows quickened. Like a storm ready to unfold. But before it could, you placed a hand on his arm. Right over one of his glowing siphons that seemed to be growing hotter and hotter, daring to match the fire coursing through Eris’s veins.

“Az, don’t,” you told him gently, not wanting to draw any attention to the three of you. You felt his muscles ease under your touch, his shadows brushing over your hand in agreement.

Eris’s gaze dropped to your hand on Azriel’s arm, his expression darkening into something unreadable. He exhaled sharply, turning his head as though trying to shake off whatever thought had crossed his mind.

When he looked back, his features had shifted into his usual cool mask, that infuriating smirk sliding back into place. He looked right at you.

“When you wake up from this deranged dream of yours, come find me.”

You watched him, feeling a strange, unwelcome tug in your chest as he turned to leave. Perhaps, one day you’d realize that the enchanted perfume you had bought was not a scam. 

And that the male you searched through the stars and planets for was not the one standing beside you, but the one who’d just walked away.

a/n: sorry if you're not a libra, I just thought it'd be funny for Eris to purposely say reader's sign wrong as he knows astrology is a huge influence on her.

[series masterlist]

[Eris masterlist]

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

[sunniques]

— 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 !

➺ PAIRING: choi seungcheol x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepdad au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: in which you find out your stepdad is as big of a freak as you are.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infedilty, age gap, daddy kink, drugging, having sex while someone else is in the same bed, nipple play, grinding, begging, breeding kink, unprotected sex, squirting, creampies, overstimulation

➺ WC: 3.9k

NOTE: part two of PLF. don’t like, don’t read.

You stare at your phone unseeingly, mindlessly scrolling through your timeline as you wait for time to go by. It’s late, and you know it’s only a matter of time for your mom’s new sleeping pills to take effect. You pout impatiently, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to soothe the ache between your legs.

Ever since you got a taste of Seungcheol’s cock, you had gotten addicted to it. So much that you didn’t care to go and take it even when your mom was home.

After two painfully long minutes, you decide that you’ve waited long enough and get out of bed. Your smirk is devious as you strip out of your favorite pajamas. Completely naked, you saunter down the hall to the master bedroom. Wetness smears between your thighs as you push the door open to reveal a sleeping couple on the large bed. Images of your stepdad fucking you like an animal in heat on that very bed has your pussy clenching.

You don’t try to be quiet as you walk over to Seungcheol’s side of the bed. The room is quiet even though your footsteps definitely weren’t. A satisfied smirk crosses your face when you realize your mom’s pills have taken effect. She’s usually such a light sleeper that any slight noise is enough to wake her. Bit just as you hoped, your mom had fallen into a deep sleep, completely unaware about what you were about to do.

Licking your lips, you crawl under the covers and immediately cozy up to your stepdad. You palm his big cock, slowly rubbing and squeezing it until it’s hard. Excitement courses through your veins as you attach your lips to Seungcheol’s neck. You place gentle kisses on his pulse point before they grow into needy licks and bites. Your movements grow eager and rougher as you grow more and more impatient.

“Daddy.” You whine, not caring that you sound desperately needy. “Wake up.”

And he does. Seungcheol’s soft laughter is deep and groggy and so damn attractive that it has you clenching around nothing. He goes to pull you closer and moans when he realizes you’re completely naked. His eyes are dark as he pushes your hand away to release his leaking cock from his sweats.

“My needy little brat wants her daddy balls deep inside her, huh?” He growls out as he lifts your leg to slide into you.

You both moan loudly when he sinks into your hot cunt. The feeling of his big dick stretching you out is has you crying out loudly as if your mom isn’t asleep right beside you. Not that you care. You know her new sleeping pills are working wonders in the best way.

“So fucking tight.” Seungcheol growls as he feels your arousal coat his cock.

He gently starts to thrust into you, still not sure how strong the sleeping pills are. As an impatient brat, you start to meet his thrusts, eyes rolling back as his tip hits your sweet spot. You whine as he grinds against you, his pelvis rubbing over your swollen clit just right. His balls smack against your ass with every hard thrust. The wet slapping sound of skin on skin just drives your arousal higher. 

Rutting into your body, your stepdad’s fat cock grinds against the spongy spot along the front of your cunt. Your juices gush from your pussy as he hammers against your g-spot so perfectly that you can’t help but squeeze him tighter and tighter. 

“Missed your cock, daddy.” You mewl out, already feeling the familiar knot in your stomach coming undone. “Missed you stretching me out like this.”

Seungcheol groans deeply at your words and changes the angles of his thrusts. It hasn’t been long since he last fucked you, but you’re so addicted that even going one day without his cock feels like torture. Not that he can blame you because he feels the same way. You feel him deeper with this new angle. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every snap of his hips. Your hot cunt is becoming impossibly tight, and he can’t help but smirk because you’re already so close to cumming.

“Nasty little princess.” Your stepdad moans, no longer caring if his wife wakes up. In a sick way, he almost wishes that she would so she can see just how addicted you are to his cock. “So cockhungry that you don’t care if your mom wakes up and sees you fucking her husband in her bed.”

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum.” You groan filthily as Seungcheol continues to thrust inside you.

Your filthy moans mix in the heady air that smells of sex, and the sound of his balls slapping your ass becomes more erratic. His words push you over the edge. You babble out loud cries of daddy, daddy, daddy until a guttural moan spills from your throat, thighs quivering as your pussy clamps down on Seungcheol’s dick like a vice.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby.” Seungcheol moans as one of his hands trail down to squeeze your ass and help you fuck his cock. “Cream all over this cock. Making such a fucking mess.”

“Cum inside me, daddy.” You mewl out as your stepdad fucks you through your orgasm. “Stuff me full!”

You don’t say please, but Seungcheol doesn’t care. He wants the exact same thing. The thought of filling up his cute little stepdaughter while his wife is right next to him triggers his own orgasm. He cums with a loud roar of your name, shooting his hot load into your tight cunt. You lean forward to devour his moans, forcing your tongue into his mouth as he fucks his cum deeper inside you.

“So fucking good, daddy.” You groan against his lips.

Seungcheol gives you a filthy smirk, knowing that this is only the beginning of a long night.

Seungcheol is livid. After many thrilling nights of fucking you raw and stupid, it all comes to an abrupt end when his wife decides her to stop taking her sleeping pills. Apparently, she doesn’t like how deeply she sleeps which has caused her to almost be late to work.

After an entire week of this, Seungcheol decides he’s had enough. On a night where he’s completely abandoned all his morals, he executes his plan. He plays the part of the sweet, doting husband well. With a kind smile, he brings his wife some warm milk in bed. She thanks him happily, sipping on it unsuspectingly. Seungcheol has to insist that she drink it all. He crushed three of her sleeping pills in the milk, and if he wants his plan to work he has to make sure she drinks every last drop.

They get into bed shortly after she finishes it all, and the minutes it takes for his wife to completely knock out feel like hours. Once she starts to snore, Seungcheol wastes no time in getting out of bed and walking down the hall to your bedroom. He leaves the door open after entering your room, a sick thrill going through him at the off chance that your mother could wake up and find him fucking you on your bed.

It looks like you’ve fallen asleep while on your phone, laying on top of your covers. He slowly takes off his clothes as he approaches your sleeping form, loving the switch in dynamic for a change. Seungcheol licks his lips as he crawls on your bed, cock already throbbing when he sees the skimpy nightie you have on. Fuck. It’s like you knew he was coming tonight.

You slowly stir when you feel someone hugging you from behind and a pair of big hands groping your tits. Something hard is poking your ass, and you immediately get wet when you realize what’s going on.

“You awake yet, princess?” Seungcheol coos against your ear, squeezing harder. “Daddy missed you so fucking much. I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t feel that tight little pussy wrapped around my dick right now.”

You mewl quietly when he pulls down the loose garment and tweaks your hardening nipples. Already, you can feel your panties sticking to your cunt as you start to squirm against your stepfather’s broad body.

“You’re more sensitive than usual, baby.” He purrs in your ear, pinching and pulling on your hard nipples over and over until you’re writhing against his stiffening cock. “Missed me that much?”

“Daddy.” You moan out as one of his hands trails down your body to tease your cunt.

“Fuck.” Seungcheol groans, fingers dipping underneath the band of your panties to rub your slit, gathering all your juices to rub your sensitive bud. “My little brat needs some relief, hm? Wants her daddy to fuck her raw until she’s dripping in cum?”

“Fuck yes!” You cry out, rutting against his hand.

Seungcheol grabs you and sits you up, cock throbbing when he sees the hunger in your gaze. He helps you straddle his lap, tugging your nightie off in one fluid movement. He groans at the sight of your pretty tits, nipples all sensitive and hard for him. Your stepdad grabs you by the waist and makes sure to place your clothed cunt directly over his aching cock. You both groan at the feeling.

“Want you to keep playing with my pussy, daddy.” The needy whimper you let out makes his entire body shudder. “Want you to keep being rough with my nipples until I can’t take it anymore.”

A low groan comes from deep in his chest, hands gripping you tighter as his cock throbs against your panty clad pussy. You kiss his jaw until you reach his pouty lips. All the desperation you feel is displayed when you smash your lips on his. You lick and suck on his tongue, messily forcing your own into his mouth after to have a taste of him.

Seungcheol feels drunk with arousal ass you rub your clothed pussy all over his leaking cock. His stomach is doing somersaults at the debouched way you grind on his hard cock. You’re so turned on and wet that your panties are completely see through now.

“God, princess.” Seungcheol moans as he pulls back, big hand moving up your body to grab your tits. His thumbs smooth over your hard nipples as your juices leak all over his cock. “You’re so fucking hot with these pretty nipples on display—all for me.”

With a wanton whine, you grind harder on his cock, desperate to have it inside you. Seungcheol smirks as he tugs and pinches your nipples until you’re whimpering and clawing at his broad shoulders. To have you on top of him, writhing like a bitch in heat is so hot that he thinks he should record it so he can save it for when he can’t fuck you.

“Fuck.” Seungcheol groans. “Just look at you. So turned on by letting your stepdad play with your tits.”

“I know.” You cry out wet panties leaking all over his throbbing cock. “It’s so wrong, but it feels too good, daddy. Want you to play with them all night.”

“Goddamn, Y/N.” Your stepdad grits out, cock leaking with so much precum that he can feel it start to dribble down his length. “Such a demanding little brat. You’re lucky daddy loves you so much. I’m going to suck on these pretty nipples until you’re creaming in your panties.”

You rock your hips with more vigor, letting out a filthy moan. “Fuck, daddy. You’re so dirty.”

“I am.” Seungcheol agrees with a ravenous hum. “It’s nasty that I want suck on my stepdaughter’s lovely tits until she’s gushing all over my lap like the needy slut she is. But it’s my fault for always giving you what you want, right, baby?”

“Yes, yes!” You mewl loudly. “Want your mouth so bad, daddy!”

Your needy plea makes his eyes flutter shut for a moment. When he opens them again, he’s staring hungrily at your tits. The sight makes him descend like a starving man. Seungcheol closes his mouth over one of your taut peaks, tongue lapping at the hard nipple like you love.

“Daddy!” You squeal in pleasure, more slick pooling in your thin panties as you watch him suck on your tit eagerly.

Your hips are moving vigorously now, rubbing your covered cunt all over his wet cock. It only makes him suck on your tit harder. Seungcheol then switches the other one, mouth sporadically swapping back and forth like he can’t decide on which nipple to keep in his mouth.

“So fucking sexy.” Your stepdad pants, nipping the soft swell of your breasts. “God, your tits are better than your mom’s.”

His depraved words shouldn’t please you as much as they do. But you’re beyond any moral reason, and the filthy confession has you grinding down on him harder with a loud moan, pussy dripping steadily. Seungcheol grabs your hips so hard to help you move that you know he’ll leave marks.

“Gonna cum, daddy.” You mewl out in shock, hips never stopping. “Fuck. You’re making me feel so good!”

Seungcheol pulls back and trails his hands up your body to squeeze your soft tits. He pushes them together and descends on your sensitive nipples again. He’s kissing, licking, and sucking on them with one purpose in mind—to have you cum in his lap. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, thighs and hips twitching as you let out a keening cry. You cum violently, saturating the fabric of your underwear until it feels like a second skin.

Your stepdad groans in satisfaction as you soak his lap with your release. He pulls back to get a better look at your panties stuck to your puffy lips. Seungcheol lick his lips, knowing he’ll have to keep ruining you all night.

As you slowly come down from your high, you bite your lip at the sight of your stepfather’s wet mouth. He looks so hot after just having sucked on your tits. You wish you could take a picture.

“Gonna let daddy fuck your messy little cunt now?”

You shudder in delight. “Fuck yeah.”

His devious grin is so fucking hot that it has your pussy clenching in need. You’re flipped on your back, panties slowly being pulled down. Seungcheol groans at the wetness of the fabric and shoves them in his face. You both moan when he starts to lick and suck on your soiled panties.

“Gonna keep these, princess.” He moans into the fabric before carefully tossing it aside.

Seungcheol’s eyes are dark when he sees you readily spread your legs for him. Your pretty pussy is all messy and wet, ready to be split open by his fat cock. He yanks you closer, slapping his aching cock on your throbbing clit. “Fuck, you make me crazy, princess.” He hisses as he rubs his cockhead all over your messy cunt.

“Hurry up and fuck me, daddy!” You whine out petulantly. “Need you inside me!”

Seungcheol’s hips buck forward, his throbbing length sliding through your puffy lips. “Bratty little girl can’t wait to be stuffed full?” He tsks meanly, his tip pressing against your hole only to slip away to rub against your slick folds. “So fucking cockhungry.”

You give him a grin and look at him through your eyelashes—a look he can never resist. “Only for you.”

That’s all it takes for Seungcheol’s hips to snap forward, forcing his cock into your hot cunt and making you cry out at the abrupt intrusion. He moans deeply and starts to roughly fuck in and out of your squelching pussy.

“My stepdaughter’s pussy is all for me, huh?” Seungcheol coos adoringly, thumb gliding across your clit to rub soft circles over your sensitive bud. “That means I’ll have to break in your tight little cunt until it’s the shape of my cock.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your nails scratch down his back, leaving your mark on him not caring that your mother would surely question him later. Not that Seungcheol cares either. He’s too lost in the feeling of your velvety walls gripping him like they want to keep his cock inside you forever.

“You feel good, princess?” Your stepdad wonders through a soft laugh. “God, I needed this. Couldn’t go any longer without feeling this juicy cunt squeezing me.”

Arching your back, you let out a loud moan. “Daddy!”

Your pussy clenches around his cock as he keeps hammering into your g-spot with every deep thrust of his hips. Seungcheol growls at your wanton cry, grinding his cock deeper into your pussy. Juices are leaking down your ass, filling the room with the lewd sound of skin slapping and loud squelching. Your room smells of sex, and as you give a quick glance to the door you wonder if the scent is strong enough to be detected from the hall.

Perversely, you get turned on by the thought of your mom walking by and smelling it. How she could just peek her head in and see her husband fucking you raw. Another coat of cream stains Seungcheol’s cock as you lose yourself in the debased fantasy.

“Daddy!” You whimper. “It’s so deep.”

Seungcheol sighs in pleasure. His hips are snapping into your sopping hole, not thinking about anything except how pretty you look under him. Tits bouncing, fucked out eyes gazing up at him like his cock is the only thing you could ever want. Fuck. He needs to breed you.

“I know, baby. Daddy’s gonna cream in your sweet pussy until you’re dripping in cum.”

Shivering all over, your pussy throbs at his words. Seungcheol can feel how much you like the idea. He growls possessively and fucks you harder. The sound of his heavy balls smacking your ass mixes in with your lovely moans perfectly.

“Gonna fuck you full of cum so you can smell me even after I’m gone. Fuck. Pretty little pussy is gonna be full of me all the time. Not even your mom can stop me from stuffing you full.”

You can’t stop moaning and whining, voice getting higher as he keeps speaking such filthy words. Your pussy gets wetter as Seungcheol’s thrusts get rougher. His cock is spearing into you so hard your upper body is bouncing along with your pretty tits.

“Breed me, daddy!” You cry out suddenly, feeling an overwhelming sensation to have his seed deep inside you. “F-Fuck, daddy! Gonna cum! Gonna cum all over your cock!”

Your head melts into your pillow as Seungcheol fucks you into the mattress. Thighs trembling as his leaking tip slams into your sweet spot.

“That’s it, princess.” Seungcheol groans, sliding his thumb to your pussy to rub your clit fast and hard. “Cum all over daddy’s cock. Let me hear me how good I’m fucking your tight little pussy."

“Oh fuck! Daddy! Daddy! Da—!” You chant loudly, back arching sharply as your orgasm slams into your body.

You wail wantonly as your pussy gushes all over his cock. Seungcheol loves every second of it. He keeps fucking your spasming hole, addicted to the feeling of you creaming on his dick. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as your stepdad buries himself in your wet cunt to the hilt. His soft growl makes you throb as his cock spurts a hot load deep inside you. Gently, he keeps fucking it into you until he can’t handle the overstimulation.

“Such a good girl for me.” Seungcheol murmurs the praise through a heavy pant. “Milking daddy’s cock like a good little slut.”

You whine at the praise, pussy squeezing his cock to milk it some more. It works. Your clit pulses greedily as he pumps rope after rope of sticky cum inside you. Once he’s absolutely done, he slowly pulls out of you with a satisfied grin.

“God, sweetheart. That was fucking amazing.” Seungcheol says as he rubs his half-hard cock between your warm folds, eyes hungrily taking in your sweaty tired body.

You bite your lip, reaching down to stroke his cock against your clit. The feeling has you both shuddering in pleasure. “Fuck me again, daddy. Fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Seungcheol’s cock throbs in your hand, hips bucking as he lowers himself back on top of you. He kisses you heatedly, biting your lower lip before he thrusts his tongue into your mouth. You grind your sloppy pussy all over his hardening cock, eager to get him to fuck you again.

“Such a dirty girl.” Seungcheol groans against your lips. He whines as you press his thick cock against your messy hole.

“And you’re a bad stepdad.” You mewl filthily. “Wetting your dick with your stepdaughter’s pussy.”

“Fuck, I know I am.” He moans as he fucks his cock back into your cunt with a gentle thrust. “I’m sick for liking your sweet little pussy wrapped around my cock.”

You both moan when he bottoms out. Your arousal and his cum leak down his length and make a creamy ring around the base of his cock. Seungcheol pulls back a bit just to thrust right back into your pussy. He keeps you pressed against the bed, strong arms boxing you in as he starts to roughly thrust into your sloppy cunt.

“Goddamn.” Your stepfather moans through gritted teeth. “I’m already close. Fuck, baby. You got me addicted to this tight little pussy.”

Seungcheol’s hips are bucking wildly, thick dick splitting your pussy open deliciously. Your eyes flutter as his abdomen brushes against your clit. Pussy fluttering around his dick, you feel your third climax right there on the cusp of washing over your body. He nips your earlobe before dragging his lips down to kiss and bite your neck.

“Fuck. Can’t believe your mother almost stopped me from having you.” Seungcheol growls as he gets more aggressive with his thrusts. “But I took care of that, baby. I’m gonna have you all night. Juicy little cunt belongs wrapped around my cock.”

His filthy words have a dark edge to them. You don’t know what he means by that, but you don’t really care. All you can focus on is that he’s just as needy for you as you are for him. Much like you, he’s willing to go to great lengths just to get his fix. Your pussy clenches at the very thought.

“Fuck, daddy! I’m cumming again!” You mewl desperately, body wound tight. “Please, please, fuck!”

Your pussy squirts, almost pushing your stepdad’s fat cock out of your clenching hole as slick soaks his dick and drips down his balls.

“Oh, princess.” Seungcheol laughs delightedly, eyes sparkling at the mess you’ve made on his cock. “Daddy made you squirt? Liked him fucking you raw like the nasty little girl you are? Fuck, baby. Gonna creampie your messy cunt again. God—so fucking filthy.”

All you can do is nod along, whines and mewls slipping out of your lips as your feel your body buzz with euphoria. Seungcheol slams his cock into you one final time and spills his second load deep inside your overstimulated pussy. Ropes of hot cum shoot inside you, stuffing you to the brim all over again.

“Such a good girl.” Seungcheol coos against your ear. “Always so ready to take this cock. Daddy’s gonna make sure your needy little pussy gets all the dick it wants, princess. I promise.”

You give him a fucked out grin, loving that he’s just as much of a nasty freak as you are.

[skbeaumont]

Honey and Whisky | Joel x F!reader oneshot

Summary: You've been watching him for months, orbiting each other as you both try to deal with the demons you should have left behind when you arrived in Jackson. It's only when you see Joel with another woman that the tension between you finally grows into something palpable.

Tags/warnings: smut, explicit content, MDNI, resolved sexual tension, PIV, oral (m receiving), fingering, dirty talk, a little bit of angst but mostly filth, mentions of trauma but nothing explicit, Jackson!Joel, F!reader, reader is not explicitly described, no use of Y/N

Word count: 3.6k

You’ve been watching him for months.

His broad back ahead of you in the queue for work duties; the side of his face in the canteen, strong jaw casting shadows on the tanned expanse of his neck under his open-collared shirt; dark eyes passing over yours as you both line up for the cinema, his kid at his side. He never seems to pay you much attention – never seems to pay anyone much attention – but you’re sure you’ve seen a hint of recognition in his expression each time you cross paths, a sort of unspoken “you again” that passes between you.

You never hold his gaze for long, never make conversation or attempt to get to know him, because you’re sure he’d brush you off. It's not that he’s unfriendly, exactly. He’s gruff and intimidating and more than a little rude sometimes, but he’s also eager to help anyone who needs it, chipping in with repair work and patrols without complaint. He never smiles or passes false niceties like most other folk do, preferring instead to offer terse, grumbled words of advice. He shows the Langstones how to properly repoint the grouting on the damaged side of their house, his shirt sleeves rolled up, the hot summer sun causing sweat to bead in the spaces between the curls on his forehead. He helps old Mrs Lopez with her hanging baskets, carefully raising them into position as she stands below and calls out instructions to him. When he stretches up to secure the last basket his shirt pulls up, revealing a strip of tanned skin and dark hair dipping beneath the band of his jeans.

So, yeah, you watch him. You watch him because he carries tension in his shoulders, unspoken fear in his eyes. There is something cold about him, something that suggests he’s trying hard to leave the man he was on the outside behind but hasn’t quite managed it. It’s a feeling that’s familiar to you, too. Five years on the road hardened you into something you don’t quite recognise in the mirror, the kind of person who flinches if someone gets too close, who can’t stand to have strangers approach from behind even on the safe streets of Jackson. It’s a deep-seated fear that has settled in your bones and seems unwilling to leave. Joel Miller is a man whose ghosts seem to mirror your own, and that makes him hard to look away from.

*****

By late March the snow has finally started to thaw and that’s enough to warrant a gathering in the Tipsy Bison. It’s unofficial, a quickly thrown together occasion that’s passed round by word of mouth that afternoon, but it still seems like everyone in the town is packed into the small tap room. There’s hardly room to navigate your way to the bar, elbows pressing into your sides, shoulders rubbing against your own. The early spring evening light is waning, soft dapples of sunlight casting pretty patterns on the table tops and worn leather seating.

He's at the bar. You don’t see him at first, too lost in your own thoughts, your head filled with the afternoon’s work, hands still sore from the handles of the buckets. But there he is, one elbow propped on the countertop, hip popped out, knee bent. He looks relaxed, for once. There’s an easy smile on his face, his lip curved up to meet the dimple of one cheek, and he’s talking to a blonde woman. Something like jealously flares up in your chest, hot and uninvited.

She’s pretty. Long, sleek hair tied up behind her neck, plump lips, a delicate, pointed nose. You know who she is, vaguely. Rose or Rosa or something, a woman who’s been in Jackson since the start, her eyes unplagued by visions of what you and Joel have both seen on the outside. She lives next door to Joel, a street away from you, though you can see her garden from your bedroom window. She and Joel are talking quietly, their voices lost in the hubbub of the bar, but you still see when she throws her head back and laughs, hand reaching out to clutch at Joel’s shirtsleeve, catching the bulk of his forearm with her slender fingers. His eyes trace the long expanse of her neck, pupils wide despite the bright light of the bar and you know he’s thinking about fucking her, thinking about how she’d look spread out underneath him in his bed, propped up against his pillows.

Then his eyes leave hers and catch yours, and there’s that familiar swoop in the pit of your stomach, that passing glance between you and Joel that always seems to linger. “You again,” it says, sending sparks between the twin points of your pupils, disrupting the reverie of Joel and Rose, pulling him suddenly and violently away from his fantasy.

You look away and hear him clear his throat, feel rather than see him shift where he's stood, imagine the frown that crosses his forehead as he continues to watch you. By the time you’ve got a drink from the bartender – a young guy who can only be a few years older than your sister, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four – Joel’s eyes have left your face and he’s chatting to Rose again, or at least letting her talk at him. Her voice is sweet, like honey and sugar and iced tea, and you almost don’t blame him for wanting to sleep with her, almost understand why he’d let himself be seduced by her niceties, her innocence.

Then you take the first sip of your whisky, feel the harsh, grating pull of it against your tongue, and think no. She’s honey and he’s whisky, and there’s no way you can stand here, in this crowded bar and let her have him when what he needs is the recognition of your own haunted eyes. So you throw back the rest of the bitter drink and slam the glass onto the bar. It startles Joel, despite the busyness and the loud chatter all around, but Rose doesn’t even flinch. Why would she? She doesn’t know that a slammed glass against warped wood sounds the same as the snap of a rifle, that the friction of the contact through your fist against the countertop makes you and Joel both think of the kickback a pistol will give if you don’t hold it square enough.

Rose giggles with something like nerves, all light and high-pitched, her hand smoothing the wood beneath her hand, but Joel’s looking at you again, pressing himself further into the bar top so that he can keep his gaze on your face when Rose leans forwards. And you let yourself turn to him, let the side of your mouth lift up into something like a smile.

Rose’s eyes flick anxiously from Joel’s face to yours. She thinks you’re about to have an argument, you realise, and that makes you smile for real, laughter almost bubbling up in your throat. There’s heat between you and him, and she’s caught between it, feeling the licking flames that in her innocence, her wholeness, she’s misinterpreting as conflict. But Joel’s pupils are blown wide where they hold yours, and he swallows, tongue dipping out from between his lips to wet them. He’s thinking about you, now. You, in his bed, pressed against his pillows, and while the image isn’t as clear as the one he had of Rose, it’s settling deep in his gut in a way that she hasn’t, sending hot coils of pleasure blossoming out to the tips of his fingers.

He’s a lost cause, he thinks. Damaged goods, probably, from the soles of his weary, blistered feet to the ends of his greying hair, but so are you. So it’s easy to push himself away from the bar without a word to Rose, easy to force himself through the throngs of writhing bodies, his broad shoulders turning this way and that to ease his path. It’s easy to pretend he isn’t aware of you following him, that he can’t feel the heat of your eyes on his narrow waist, watching every movement of his hips as you both leave the crowded bar, Rose forgotten behind you.

Outside, the cold is still enough to catch in your throat, but by the time you reach the alleyway that runs between the bar and the first row of houses Joel is crowding you against the wall, pressing himself to you like a man possessed. You let him, fist your hands in the thick expanse of his coat, trying to feel the solid mass of him beneath it. One large hand comes up to your jaw and he tips it to the side, presses his nose into the gap between the hollow of your throat and your jacket and inhales deeply, pulling the smell of whisky from your neck.

“Have me,” you say into the quiet of the alley, and he pulls his head back, looks at you hard, questioning.

“Have me,” you repeat, adding, “not her.”

“You jealous?” He asks, his voice gravelly. He lets his hand follow the curve of your neck into your hair, his calloused fingertips rough against your scalp.

“No,” you lie, “but she should be.”

He chuckles at this, a huffed breath of a laugh that in the cold sends a plume of hazy condensation into the narrow slice of air between the two of you.

“Okay.” He says then, his mouth curving into a grin that he presses against your own lips.

The kiss is rough, needy from the first point of contact. But then he opens up to you, groans into your mouth when you pull his tongue into the wet heat of yours. He brings his other hand up to cup your jaw, huge hand spanning the full length of your face. The air around you is still cold but there’s a fire somewhere deep in your belly, Joel’s chapped lips moving against yours, his broad body pressing you into the rough brick. You jolt against him when he shifts, a thick thigh moving to slide between your own legs. The friction then is delicious, tensing muscle pressing to the centre of you, slick pooling on rough denim. 

It’s a shock as he pulls himself away suddenly, cold air swooping in to replace the heat of his body.

“C’mon,” he says, “my place is closest.”

And then he’s striding away, not waiting for you to follow because he’s so confident you will, disappearing around the corner of the street. You stumble after him, legs weak.

The streets are empty, and that’s probably the only reason he wraps an arm around your waist when you catch up with him. He holds you to him, hard, fingertips digging into the flesh of your hip like he’s trying to mark you. Your thighs bump together, his so much larger than yours, coiled strength wrapped up in corded muscle. The walk is only short, and neither of you speak, too set on reaching your destination.

Up the steps, his arm leaving your waist to rummage in the pocket of his jeans and pull out a key tied on a worn piece of string. The lights are all off – his kid is obviously out somewhere – but he pulls you inside without turning them on, the darkness of the evening now fully settled over the town.

Crowded against the front door, you fist your hands into his hair, relish the soft thickness of his curls, the way they glide through your fingertips, his mouth seeking yours out, lips barely skimming your own before pulling back, making you chase him.

“Didn’t think you were interested,” he says into the narrow gap between you, “always avoiding me, seems like.”

“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you,” you tell him, pulling him to you by the nape of his neck, fitting your lips together so that your teeth clash, mouths colliding messily.

He groans into you, pulls away again, asks, “what do you want, pretty girl?”

The nickname shouldn’t make you grin against his lips, shouldn’t send a somersault of ecstasy through you, but it does. You’re not pretty, you know. You’re damaged and rough and so fucking needy. Needy for his hands and his mouth and his lips, that he leans down to press against the column of your throat,  teeth just grazing the skin there.

“Hmm?” he mutters against you, “tell me what you want.”

“You,” You tell him, nails scratching into the delicate skin just above his ears.

When he lifts you, hands gripping the meat of your thighs and pulling you up to rest against his chest you gasp, shifting your hands to link your fingers behind his neck. He carries you up the stairs like that. It’s a little uncoordinated and messy, his hip bumping the banister, your foot catching on the door frame, but then he drops you onto his bed and covers your body with his own, his hands seeking out the flesh of your breasts. He pushes the hem of your top up, kneads at the soft skin there with a practised hand, forefinger and thumb pinching your nipple in a way that has you arching up off the bed.

“This okay?” he asks, voice gravelly and rough, and you nod, but he tsks from between his teeth, “gonna need words, baby,” he says.

“Yes, Joel, please,”

He pushes your jumper the rest of the way up and off, does the same to your t-shirt so that you’re half-naked and writhing under his hands. The sudden hot heat of his mouth over your peaked nipple makes you hiss out a breath, and he chuckles from somewhere deep in his chest, using his teeth to bite down against your skin. Then his hands are pulling at the button of your worn jeans, dragging them and your underwear down off your thighs. He lets them fall onto the rug-covered floor of his bedroom and then his fingers are moving to where you’re wet and needy for him.

The pleasure of his fingers sliding against you is overwhelming and all-consuming, so much so that you hardly notice the way he’s grinding his hips against you, pressing his covered cock into your thigh, chasing friction. You feel him twitch against you as he presses two fingers into the tight heat of you, lips settling at your pulse point, teeth grazing the delicate skin there. It’s enough to tip you over the edge and you come hard, stars blossoming across your vision, limbs shaking with the exertion of it.

“Look so good like this, baby,” Joel says into the side of your neck, “spread out against my sheets like a fucking angel.”

He pulls his fingers from you, drags them up through your folds and then into the heat of his mouth, groaning around them as he sucks your juices from his own skin. Something snaps in you and suddenly you’re pushing him off you, onto his back, straddling his denim-clad thighs and tugging at the buttons of his shirt. The fastenings open easily, buttons worn and shiny with age, revealing a broad chest and softer stomach, a light trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his dark jeans, the scene illuminated by the orange glow of the streetlight outside the window.

He's big; you can see the contour of him against the denim, a solid, thick line that twitches against your palm when you press it into him. You pop the button on his jeans, unsurprised to find he’s not wearing underwear. The jeans join yours on the floor and his cock bobs before you against his stomach, head dark and shiny in the low light, a bead of precum that you kitten lick from him. The movement has Joel bucking his hips, a deep groan rumbling through his chest. When you take him into your mouth he threads his hands into your hair and grips, not pushing you down but just holding you there, grounding himself with his fingers against your scalp. You work your tongue over him, using your hand to cover the part of him that you can’t fit into your mouth and he moans and curses above you.

“Fuck, darlin’, m’not gonna last if you keep going,” he tells you, voice cracking with the effort of it, and you pull away regretfully, moving yourself up to straddle his thighs.

Joel’s hands find your hips and drag you up, up, up so that the head of his cock catches against your clit, slick pooling on his belly as you rock against him. It’s messy and filthy and goddamn incredible, the solid ridge of him pulling against you just right, pleasure building up and up and up so that your thighs tense around him and you’re coming again, Joel’s fingertips digging hard into the flesh of your hips, pain dulled by the pleasure of it.

As you come down he takes the opportunity to roll you both over, slotting himself between your thighs and pressing the blunt head of his cock to your entrance, not pushing in yet, just holding you there, pinned beneath him, dark eyes seeking yours in the relative darkness.

“Please, Joel,” you keen, fingernails scratching a path down the broad expanse of his back.

The kiss he gives you then is soft, almost gentle, but you chase his lips, drag the bottom one between your teeth and bite down hard. He growls as he sinks himself into you, a choked-out moan painting hot air across your cheeks. You’re both lost then, gripping onto each other as heat and pleasure lick a steady flame through you.

The only sounds in the dimly lit room are the hot pant of Joel’s breath and your own breathy sighs. His silhouette is like a marble statue above you, holding himself still on two propped elbows, hard-set jaw working with the effort of keeping himself from thrusting into you carelessly.

“Fuck- Joel, please, fuck me,” you say into the stillness and he dips his head, buries his neck in the space between your shoulder and jaw, rough stubble licking at the skin there.

“Okay, baby,” He whispers, and then he pulls himself out and surges forward again, stretching you around his cock, reaching deeper this time than before.

He sets a punishing pace, one fist gripping the hair at the base of your neck, the other holding himself up so that he can watch where you’re joined. You think about Rose then, wonder if he’d have fucked her like this, fast and hard and needily – no, he wouldn’t have, you decide. This is something that only you and he have a need for, something dark and unrepentant and all-consuming. There’s nothing else in the universe in this moment but Joel’s thick, strong body above yours and the delicious stretch of his cock inside you.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, darlin’,” he tells you, “wanna pin you down and keep you here forever.”

He adjusts the angle, shifts his hips so that his cock hits the spongy spot inside you that sends pleasure shooting up your spine and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips.

“Bet you’d let me, too, wouldn’t you?” Joel says, voice hard, hips dragging as he slows his thrusts to press his pelvis against yours, “Let me do whatever the fuck I wanted with you and you’d thank me for it, huh?”

“Yes, God, yes,” Your voice sounds pathetic even to your own ears, high-pitched and breathless.

Joel chuckles darkly, wraps a broad hand around the base of your neck and holds it there, not squeezing but just keeping you in place.

It’s warm in the small bedroom and you watch sweat bead in the creases of Joel’s neck, on the tips of his curls where they rest on the side of his face and forehead. His eyebrows are furrowed, face contorted with pleasure and concentration and when he flicks his eyes up to catch yours there’s that familiar electricity between you. “You,” it says, “it’s always you.” It’s enough to tip you both over the edge. You come hard, cunt clenching and fluttered around Joel’s cock and he lets out a rumbling groan as his hips stutter, his rhythm lost. He slams his hips to yours one last time and then you feel him twitching inside you, painting you with ropes of come. He curses through it, little half-choked mutters of Jesus Christ baby, fuckin’ tight, perfect cunt and then he collapses against you, his sweat-slicked chest hot against yours, both of your gasping in desperate breaths. Joel rolls off of you but pulls you tight to him, arm wrapped possessively around you waist, hand firm on the tender flesh of your hip.

In the aftermath, the orange glow of the streetlight looks like fire against Joel’s white bedsheets. The flames of it lick up the breadth of his chest to his collarbone and you think of a different fire, the one that burned down the last haven you found, over five years ago. You think of the death and destruction of that night, squeezing your eyes tight shut to try to block it out. When you open them Joel’s looking at you, dark eyes holding yours, but his expression is a little distant. The crease between his eyebrows is deepened by the way he’s frowning and you’re sure he’s thinking of his own fire-struck night, his mind perhaps decades away. The sex-sweet haze is already slipping away, but he’s a firm presence beside you and when you take a shaky breath, trying to slow your hammering heart, his arm around you tightens reassuringly.  

Maybe the ghosts can be kept at bay for a while, at least.

[rebelspykatie]

Recently divorced Steve is roped into attending an adult summer camp with Robin. She thinks it’ll get him out of his funk, and she’s probably right. At this point, he’s mostly given up on love. He’s put off moving forward long enough and agrees that this can be his fresh start. When Steve has a chance encounter with Nancy in the airport, he thinks it’s destiny, them both going to the same summer camp. 

He has a vision of them together, the details of which he doesn’t reveal to anyone but Robin. It’s a fuzzy vision of curly brown hair, a bright smile, and a warm embrace. He fixates on it when they arrive at camp and Nancy is Robin’s roommate. It feels like the universe is aligning for him again, finally pushing him towards his destiny. Robin keeps setting up situations for them to be together, pushing them together for the team races, stepping aside so Nancy can be his partner on the ropes course. 

It also leads him to Eddie. They’re roommates for the week, and he’s Nancy’s best friend. Apparently they spent many years attending this same summer camp as kids before it reopened years later as a camp for adults. They butt heads at first, but he’s quick witted and funny, and makes Steve laugh when he needs it most. He works his way right into Steve’s heart. There’s this fearlessness that guides his every move, unafraid to look silly or be an outcast. He reminds Steve of Robin in a way that feels like home. 

They spend a lot of sleepless nights together, in separate bunks, talking across the darkness about all their hopes and fears. Eddie drags him to his thinking rock that overlooks the lake and Steve doesn’t think twice about pulling Eddie into the water and tangling their legs together in the moonlight. The paint smeared across Steve’s cheeks during arts and crafts is in the shape of Eddie’s fingers and the smile on his face feels permanent. 

Steve’s never taken a lot of chances in life, always going down the easiest path, never putting up much resistance when things felt less than perfect. Nancy feels like much of the same, and it takes him too long to notice that there’s no spark there. Sure, they fit together in a way that makes sense, but it doesn’t bring him to life like Eddie does. 

He doesn’t light up like Robin does around Nancy. He doesn’t elicit that coy smile or that fierce protectiveness from Nancy. After a while, he starts to think the universe was wrong. That his vision was about meeting Robin’s soulmate and how he wants her happiness just as much as he wants his. 

Nancy doesn’t challenge him to try new things, or face his fears. Eddie does, helping him gain the confidence to sing karaoke while Eddie plays guitar for the whole camp to hear. Robin and Eddie are the ones by his side when Steve’s parents don’t show up for family day. Eddie’s the one he keeps finding himself pulled to, a thousand missed moments where he could’ve reeled Eddie in for a kiss but didn’t. All for a vision that doesn’t even feel real anymore. 

And maybe Steve learns to let go of expectations. Accepts a part of himself that he avoided for so many years because it didn’t seem to matter when he was married and living the American dream. But now? He wants more. He wants to wake up from being a zombie in his own life. 

When he kisses Eddie in the mess hall in front of the whole camp on the last day because he feels time slipping away, he suddenly understands. It all clicks into place with his arms around Eddie, who’s pressing their foreheads together with a grin, that his vision was never about Nancy (and yes he has a type). It was always about Eddie and how Eddie could be his home.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ F*CK THE LIST

✧.* CHAPTER 2 || Fuck The Foolish Mistakes

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A continued tale after Gojo Satoru's blackmailing seemed to have much more to it than meets the eye.

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, masturbation, pervy!gojo, tw; mentions/hints of stalking & obsession, some heinous activities, dark themes, disturbing actions, etc.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE SUMMER BEFORE everything went to shit for you was the same summer in which you and Shoko decided to move in together. For two months of break, it felt so much longer than that. It was a time in which you spent getting closer and closer to Shoko, so much so that it was only natural that you would call her one of your closest friends.

Although, said friendship seemed rather one-sided. Sure, you both got along pretty well but from what it seemed— Shoko had plenty of other friends to run to whenever she wished. So, after you realized that, you got a bit more real with yourself and dubbed her as simply your roommate. Closest friend, but roommate nonetheless.

This summer was also spent single after you’d gotten dumped a few weeks before the last semester ended. You were sad about it for a while but Shoko was there to cheer you up. Meanwhile, the other people you thought were your friends steadily started to showcase their truer colors, revealing how they never really cared too much about you to begin with and dropped you just like your boyfriend had.

Ah, whatever, that’s all old stuff anyway. It took you maybe a week to get over all that foolishness. So by the time summertime came around, you thought things would get better for you. Instead, you lost your job and that’s where your struggle began. You may have picked up one or two during your summer break but ultimately, none of them stuck long enough to trickle over to your final two semesters of school.

And as you went through such things, a certain someone was keeping track of it all like some fucking stalker. This person in question being none other than Gojo Satoru himself. Unlike you, his summer was rather pleasant. He started babysitting due to his not-so-hidden love for children, he went out a decent number of times, and he heard things about you without even asking.

Why? Because he had a wonderful friend who talked about you to no end— Gojo became very thankful for Shoko because it’s due to her that the pages of his notebook began to fill with endless entries about you. Perhaps journaling you became some kind of hobby for him.

Or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t see you as much since it was summertime so he treasured every bit of information he got on you. Why was he so hooked on noting it all down though? Was it really curiosity at this point or, was it something so much more? He’d long since labeled it as a crush but that doesn’t excuse his journaling.

Hell, at one point Gojo found himself mindlessly writing down vivid details of the way your laugh sounds— from any pitch that’s ever grazed his ears, to the number of breaths taken before and after. It was then that Gojo dropped his pencil and read over what the hell he’d written down.

His hand shot up to his forehead and his fingers went to soothe his temples, brows tensing, and eyes narrowing at his own words. Did he… Did he really just sit here and describe a woman, who he’s never spoken to, and how her laugh sounds? At the realization, Gojo had to close his journal and push it away from himself.

Sometimes, he may try to pretend like he doesn’t see any harm behind this journaling thing of his but at moments like this… He nearly creeps himself out. Imagine if you were to ever stumble upon such a thing. Gojo’s almost disgusted with himself. Not even a hi or hello has ever been spoken to you and yet here he was printing the details of that joyful sound you make when you find something humorous.

Gojo was very self-aware by that point, mentally telling himself that he needed to stop this madness and just talk to you like he craved. Maybe Suguru was right, maybe your having a boyfriend didn’t matter.

On that day, Gojo should’ve listened to his own warnings. He should’ve taken care of his own red flags right then and there.

But instead, he only got worse.

—--

Depicting the details of your laughter was one thing. But going out of his way to print out photos of you he’d found on Instagram was an entirely different level of crazy.

Okay, so perhaps this was no longer just some cute lil’ crush… Gojo doesn’t know how his… curiosity got so dark. He doesn’t know where or when it really started but at some point, he thinks he became aware that this wasn’t exactly normal. Eventually, Gojo realized this was more of an obsession— you were an obsession.

A scary one too. Even scary to himself. The mere mention of your name would make Gojo’s heart race, whenever Shoko came around smelling like you in the slightest bit, Gojo could feel his mind blur and his thoughts instantly run to you.

One time Shoko, who was just as oblivious to this as everyone else at the time, showed the man a video of you and her trying some challenge together. Gojo doesn’t remember the challenge at all or even what either of you was doing in that video but he does remember having his eyes all over you.

He remembers seeing you hug Shoko by the end of the video and the feeling that burned in his heart. Such a deep form of jealousy swirled inside him and he couldn’t understand it. He never cared about Shoko being close to you before but now, it had pained him to watch his friend have the opportunity to feel you– to talk to you.

Something that Gojo told himself he no longer deserved to do. Yeah, he knows it was even more foolish but he felt as though he should be self-punished for his strange actions in regards to you. 

Those photos that he printed of you went right into his journal, along with an entry about how he wonders what it’s like to feel your touch. He wonders what holding a full conversation with you would be like. Would you laugh at the things he says? Would you playfully hit him if he utters something ridiculous? Are your hands soft? Would they feel soft wrapped around his cock-

Yet again did Gojo find himself dropping his pencil. Though, he doesn’t know which reason was worse. The fact that he really wrote that question down or the throb he felt in his cock at the mere thought of said question. Gulping, he told himself for the millionth time that he was losing his damn mind.

So much so that he had to push his journal away and really think about what the hell he just asked. He tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh at himself. He’d lost it, hadn’t he? Thinking about you in such a vulgar way without even knowing what talking to you is like is the very definition of insanity, yes?

No, this is just his obsession. He’s not insane. But hey, maybe the two go hand and hand— maybe there’s no difference between being batshit crazy and obsessing over someone…

Either way, Gojo tries to collect himself, moving to look down at his current state only to find that his cock didn’t just throb, instead the damn thing got hard. The sight was disappointing, to say the least. Gojo stared at the outline of his dick, wondering what the hell is wrong with his body and how the fuck he got hard so damn fast. All he did was think about you…

He moves to part his legs a bit more, trying to comfort himself and deciding he was going to ignore his boner and just return to writing. Though, as he leans up and pulls his journal back toward himself, his cock aches yet again. Gojo lets out a little groan, somewhat scolding himself for being like this.

And then he manages to ignore himself for a bit longer. At least, up until he does nothing more than read your name on his page. His focus narrowed in on the letters of your name, the sound of it echoing throughout his brain before his lips parted and he let out a sound.

His hand shoots up to his face and he covers his mouth, completely confused as to what the hell he’d just done. There was absolutely no way he’d nearly moaned at your name alone. Oh this was… No, he was losing it-, not even, he’d lost it already.

Gojo steadily wiped his mouth, fingers rubbing over his jawline for a moment before he looked down to his crotch. He could now feel how stupidly wet his tip was. Was he in heat or something? How the hell did he get so horny from… reading your name? Thinking about you? Hell, he doesn’t even know where to pinpoint the cause of all this anymore.

Shaking his head, his first thought was that he was in no way going to touch himself to the thought of you. Absolutely not. Fuck no. He may be obsessed but he’s not a… actually, there’s really no word he could use to describe what he’s not right now because he pretty much checks every box for an obsessive pervert.

“Shit,” Gojo huffed, glancing over to his wide-open room door. A second passes, then two, then three before he’s standing to his feet and walking over to the door.

The man glanced out into the hall, finding no signs of Geto anywhere before he shuts his door. Then, he pauses and stares at the lock. He’s not really about to do this, is he?

…

He locks the door and rushes right back over to his seat. Gojo slouches back a little this time and his legs part, his eyes low on his hard cock resting against his thigh and how painfully it was bulging against the fabric of his clothes.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He whispers. There’s no way you’d gotten him this hard…

You and your… everything. The very idea of you made Gojo roll his hips upward, causing faint friction against his clothed cock. Then he shook his head and looked away from himself.

“Nope, I’m not doin’ this shit,” He whispered. He can’t jerk off to some girl he doesn’t even know. He shouldn’t.

It’d be different if you were some pornstar he was infatuated with, then he could jerk off to you and there’d be no issue. But when you’re his friend’s friend… it’d be so weird of him to do so.

Even if you have the prettiest face he’s ever seen. Despite your laugh leaving him in some kind of trance. Ignoring the way your voice sounds. Disregarding how kind you seem from afar. Nevermind the way you walk, the things you wear— and how the first time he saw you, you were in a skin-tight blue dress-

Gojo’s jaw drops a little, “Oh fuck,” His voice is already breathy and his hand has found its way to his aching cock, groping himself through his clothing.

He looks down at himself all over again, body hot and breath unsteady already. He swallows thickly and finally lets out a groan before moving to tug his cock out, watching how it slaps against his abdomen and letting out another heavy breath of air.

Gojo moves his hands to his thighs and just gazes at his cock for a moment, seeing how it twitches so desperately-, desperately for you, and how his tip is leaking with precum already. Hell, it look like he came already, cum leaking down along his dick so lewdly.

What would anyone think if they found him like this…

One of his hands moves to grab his journal and he flips to the page with your pictures on it. He shouldn’t do this. This is wrong-

A whine slips past his lips the second his eyes are met with your face. Then his fingers are wrapping around his shaft and he’s jerking himself off without second thought. “Fuuck,” He moans, tossing his head back with his lower lip beginning to tremble already.

His hand was working the length of his dripping cock furiously, back arching ever so slightly in pure desperation and utter need. Oh how he wished it was your hand here instead of his. Fuck, what would your mouth feel like? Hell, how are you during sex? Are you the submissive type? Would you let him have his way with you? Fuck that pretty mouth of yours like he wishes to?

Or are you the more dominant type? Would you have his legs shaking from sucking him off? You probably would. He can only imagine what your lips would look like wrapped around his cock— already wet with spit and dribbles of his cum. Your face would probably be all messy but you might like that kinda thing, right?

Gojo whines, his eyes flickering and hand not slowing for even so much as a second. Shit, your mouth is probably heavenly but what would your pussy feel like? How wet would you get for him? Would you take him all in one go? Beg him to fuck you faster?

Fuck, would you get on top of him? Take control? Ride him til’ he’s the one begging you to stop? Again, Gojo moans into the air, a few times actually. His wrist rotates as he fists his needy cock, veiny length aching for anything from you.

He wonders if you’d want him to talk you through it. Or if you’d talk him through it. Would you be mean? Nice? Fuck, his thoughts are driving him crazy. In all honesty, he’d consider himself a complete slut for you. He’d do whatever you wanted him to.

Gojo ends up shifting, moving to hunch forward as he grows a bit overwhelmed. “Fuck, fuck-,” He gasps and chokes out a whimper of your name. Would you let him be some little slut for you? Because he would be, with zero hesitation. “Fuck me,” Gojo mumbles, watching as his cock twitches in his hands.

You’d probably praise him, wouldn’t you? Tell him how good he’s doing for you, encourage him to keep going-, or maybe you’d do the exact opposite. Perhaps you would degrade him.

Gojo’s eyes roll back at the mere imagination of you ever degrading him, calling him pathetic for being like this, a slut for shamefully jerking off to you, or even a bitch-

He’s cumming before he even realizes he is, moaning and moaning after the thought of you ever calling him such a thing. He doesn’t even know why that turned him on so much, he’s never been into that kinda thing before but when it’s you, shit… he can’t even control himself.

Messing up his hand, groaning out your name, moving to stand up with shaky legs, and continuing as his cock doesn’t go down. Then Gojo looks at the picture of you again, aligning his cock with the image and stroking himself angrily. He cannot believe himself right now but it’s much too late to care.

The damage is beyond done as he starts moaning again, small whines of fuck leaving his wet lips over and over the more he stares at your picture. Then he’s thrusting his hips into his hand, moving his free hand to grab ahold of the desk in front of him as if to brace himself.

Gojo heaves as he gets himself off. Tears well up in his eyes and he just knows he sounds so stupidly desperate right now, moaning, groaning, whining, and even whimpering for you whilst he fucks his fist. Eventually closing his eyes, he imagines you there with him, mentally illustrating the way your face would twist up every time he thrusts his cock deep inside you.

He could make you feel so fucking good if you ever let him. He’d treat you so well, give you anything and everything under the sun, make sure there’s always a smile on your face, and prioritize your needs over his own at all times.

By that point, he’s chanting your name in mindless little whispers, feeling his balls ache before the tip of his cock spurts out thick and hot ropes of cum— all over that same picture he’d been staring at.

Left panting, Gojo had to deal with the aftermath of his high. His eyes were slow to open and when he realized he came all over one of his pictures of you, he was even more disgusted with himself.

It took him a moment to gather himself after his actions but when he finally does, he cleans the filthy mess he’d made of himself and that damn photo before closing his journal and putting it away— telling himself he’d never do that again.

—---

Although, his little declaration didn’t last very long. A week later and he was jerking off with you in mind yet again. The same guilt and disgust follow afterward and Gojo tells himself he needs something else to put his focus on that’s not you.

Like his job for example; babysitting. What better to put his mind on to distract him from the way his mind, body, and soul crave you so desperately?

With that in mind, Gojo started with his scheduling. As time stood, he had roughly three different kids he babysat on a regular basis, all of which were looked after separately but looked after nonetheless. The first was a girl, whose name was Nobora. She was rather bratty in Gojo’s opinion but he didn’t mind, he liked how having her around reminded him of having that of a little sister.

Then there was Megumi, a child who so clearly hates him but is forced to be around him anyway. That hatred got even worse when the kid broke his leg while on Gojo’s watch— an event in which Gojo will forever find strange because the two were at a park and he swears he looked away for two seconds only to hear screaming moments later by nearby children.

By the time he made it to Megumi, his leg was broken and Gojo was to blame.

Aside from that, the last kid that Gojo found himself watching over sometimes was Itadori Yuji. Now this, this is where things got interesting.

For starters, Gojo never understood why he was hired to watch over Yuji when the kid had a perfectly capable older brother to do so. Then again, he didn’t question it once he saw he got paid quite handsomely for it.

Sometimes Gojo went over to the Itadori residence and others he picked Yuji up. Either way, the number of times Gojo encountered Sukuna was rather slim. They only ever interacted when it was time for payments to be made. Outside of that, Gojo knew little of Sukuna (his school reputation for being a major partier aside).

Any other information he got from the man came from Yuji, who Gojo would randomly question every now and then. Though, Yuji never spoke much about his older brother— only that he’s a bit short-tempered. Given that, Gojo had no reason to think twice about their family or relations at all.

Even when Yuji would appear with a bruise or two, Gojo didn’t put two and two together until it was much too late. The first few bruises, Yuji said he got them from playing around too much and falling, to which Gojo believed since he’d seen how clumsy Yuji could be firsthand.

As such, this went on for weeks and weeks but the day Gojo finally started realizing something was up, was the same day in which he’d finally meet the consequences for his previous actions.

On that day, before Yuji was dropped off to be babysat, Gojo was busy making vows to himself. The first being that he’d finally man up and fucking talk to you. He doesn’t really know what finally came over him but he felt as though it was time. Something, perhaps the universe, told him that after today— he’d grow some balls and hold a genuine conversation with you. 

Only a few days ago had he learned from Shoko that you now resided with her so things were going to be rather easy. There was about a week and a half of summer left, giving Gojo some time to not only talk to you but also get to know you firsthand.

His self-revelation came about after he reread every journal entry he had of you, jotting down one final entry of how he planned to talk to you. It was supposed to be casual, he would ask for your number, become friends with you, and go from there based on whether or not you showed any attraction toward him.

With such plans in mind, Gojo thinks it is safe to say that his obsession is finally being tamed. He was getting in control of it after having had such lewd thoughts of you multiple times within the past month and making entries of how he was left feeling in his journal.

That may have been what his last straw was— the whole pervertedness of it all. He was getting weirded out by it himself. Maybe once he started talking to you, his obsession would completely die down. Perhaps the reality of you would help ground him from this fictional high he’s had himself on ever since his obsession was born.

Though, it seems the world finds humor in the suffering of people and Gojo was forced to learn this the hard way.

Of course, as soon as he tells himself he’s gonna clean up his act and do what’s right, his punishment shows up in the form of a person who finds joy in watching others struggle. This person is none other than Sukuna himself, who shows up at the worst time imaginable.

Amid pure stupidity and thoughtlessness, Gojo quickly found himself in a situation in which could not be undone.

—-

After babysitting Yuji for maybe two hours, there was a knock on Gojo’s front door. Yuji sat on the living room couch, watching some cartoons as he swung his feet back and forth. Gojo was in the nearby kitchen, journal in hand before he went to answer the door.

That wonderful journal of his was left sitting on the kitchen counter, right in the open for anyone to see. 

That aside, when Gojo opened his front door, he was met with Sukuna. The two barely even greeted one another before the tatted man reminded Gojo it was payment day. The transaction was meant to be done inside so, Gojo allowed Sukuna to enter the apartment.

Yuji hardly glanced over to the two men before Sukuna nodded his head back, silently telling the kid to go ahead and make his way to the car. With no argument, Yuji sighed and grabbed what little of his things before he walked over to the two, briefly said bye to Gojo, and then made his way outside.

Gojo was going to question why Sukuna let the kid go out by himself like that but, he’s made his mistakes of asking too many questions in the past and has suffered the consequences. Not wanting to deal with a mouthy Sukuna, Gojo remained quiet until Yuji was gone.

Phones were pulled out and the two men moved to make that transaction of theirs. Sukuna had strange tendencies and rules, one of them being that Yuji wasn’t allowed to be present for what Sukuna considered adult business. It was something Gojo didn’t understand but, nothing crazy to really bat an eye at.

Just before Sukuna gets ready to send the money to Gojo— something in which he requires Gojo to be present to make sure nothing goes askew, Gojo starts noticeably squirming all over the place.

Sukuna raises a brow, “Fucks wrong with you?”

“Gotta use the bathroom,” Gojo huffs out without moving from where he stands.

The pink-haired man tilts his head, “Then go use the bathroom? I’m not gonna leave without paying you so relax.”

Gojo stands there a mere moment longer, contemplating a few things. The transaction could’ve been done by now but he felt like he was two seconds away from embarrassing himself so he just let out a long sigh before running off to the nearby bathroom. Thus leaving Sukuna standing there alone.

Now, Sukuna doesn’t consider himself to be a nosy person— he could usually care less about what others had going on in their lives unless it affected or entertained him. And where Gojo’s concerned, he honestly did neither at the time. He was just Yuji’s babysitter so Sukuna didn’t see much interesting about the guy.

That was, until he took his time alone to glance around Gojo’s apartment. Sukuna’s eyes wandered, studying the plain attempts at decoration and how utterly unstructured Gojo’s apartment appeared to be. Well, aside from some spots, it was rather clear that two people were living here, one more cleanly than the other.

Even so, Sukuna remained uninterested until he spotted a single book on the nearby kitchen counter. His eyes narrowed and he found himself surprised someone like Gojo would ever pick up a book. Again, the two knew little of one another aside from whatever school reputations they had— Gojo being known as some praying fuckboy and Sukuna being known as some hotheaded party-thrower. One could’ve assumed that the two would get along considering how their interests seem to align.

With that being said, Sukuna found himself walking toward this book without a second thought. The cover was completely blank and he realized it wasn’t a book at all. It was a journal.

Intrigued, Sukuna picks it up and does nothing more than pick a page at random to see if he’d find anything amusing, perhaps something to taunt Gojo with. Y’know, something to get a laugh out of.

The very last thing Sukuna expected to see was a page with a picture of some girl on it in the middle, surrounded by rather… creepy depictions of the woman. Details on the clothing in the picture, how much it cost, where to find it, depictions of where the woman went on that day, whether or not she seemed happy or sad, how many times Gojo heard her laugh-

Sukuna found himself disturbed instantly as he skimmed over the page. Though, not enough to stop him from turning the page. It seemed that such a creepy entry was one of many. Although, the first page he saw was definitely the creepiest. What ended up becoming the cherry on top was when Sukuna read over the fact that Gojo’s never spoken to you.

At that point, Sukuna scoffed, finding Gojo nothing but a fool for writing about a woman in such a way without ever talking to her. With dates, times, etcetera, Gojo had a ridiculous number of entries on this woman, so much so that it actually left Sukuna both curious and… entertained.

So when the sound of Gojo coming out of the bathroom hits Sukuna’s ears, he doesn’t even flinch or attempt to act like he wasn’t looking through the journal. Instead, Gojo walks out of the bathroom and finds Sukuna with the item in his hands.

It was at that very second that Gojo felt his heart sink to his goddamn toes. His eyes went wide and he froze in his steps, Sukuna not even so much as glancing away from the journal in his hands.

Gojo swallowed the overwhelming lump in his throat and attempted to say something-, anything, “What-”

“My my, what a fucking pervert you are,” Sukuna hummed enthusiastically, finally flicking his maroon gaze up to a dumbfounded Gojo. “This is disgusting, really. I mean,” Sukuna glances back down and smiles, “You love this woman and you’ve never even spoken to her?”

All wide-eyed and practically speechless, Gojo fumbles for a way to explain himself, “I-”

“And you fantasize about fucking her quite often,” Sukuna scoffs, tongue seeping out to lick his lips for a moment, “I can see why but shit… You’re a fuckin’ weirdo.”

“You-,” Gojo cocks his head back and blinks, the slightest mention of Sukuna taking interest in your appearance causing him to go right back to that not-so-rational state of his. Blinded by a deep obsession toward you, Gojo is slow with his words, “...You can see why? The hell does that mean-”

“She’s sexy, I get it. I see the lil’ pictures of her you’ve put in here,” Sukuna comments nonchalantly, “And yet, what I don’t get is this uh,” He clicks his tongue and smirks, “Obsession you have with her. Especially without talking to her? That’s…” He trails off for a second, his expression fading into something Gojo can’t quite read.

Gojo gulps and again attempts to defend himself, “I know it’s weird, I… I told myself I’m going to stop-”

“When?” Sukuna interrupts, voice rough, “When you’ve already got her wrapped around your finger and refuse to let her go because of the attachment you’ve created?” He questions the man almost as if he’s speaking from… experience.

“W-What?” Gojo’s brows push together. He never had any intentions of manipulating you in any shape or form, “No, I-”

“Would you tell her how you’ve been stalking her for months-, shit maybe even years based on some of these entries?” The way Sukuna takes a step toward Gojo lets him know that something about this seems to bother the pink-haired man.

“I haven’t been stalking her, I just-”

Sukuna looks down at the open page, “‘I especially liked how happy she looked today, when she smiles, she blinks about five times and when she laughs, it doubles.’ What sane man writes this shit about a woman he’s never spoken to, huh?”

“Sukuna just…” Gojo sucks in a crisp breath of air and attempts to plead with the male in front of him, reaching his hand out for his journal, “Just pretend like you never read that a-and give me the-”

“Aht aht,” Sukuna’s quick to swat his hand away and he nearly laughs at the way Gojo frowns frustratedly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t keep this little gem? Hm? See, you must be a bit confused about how this is about to go.”

For a moment, Gojo just stares. He never imagined this would happen. Hell, he wasn’t exactly careful with his journal but the last thing he expected was for Sukuna to pick the damn thing up. Fuck, he should’ve never left it on the counter. 

He lets out a sigh and his voice is small, laced with fear, “...Are you gonna tell her?”

“Am I gonna tell her?” Sukuna simply bursts out laughing, “Ha! What do I look like to you? Some simple-minded fool? No, I’m not gonna tell her.”

Gojo lets out the most thankful sigh of relief, “Thank fuck-”

“You are,” Sukuna states.

And at those words, the room goes silent. So silent that one could hear a pin drop. Gojo felt as though his blood ran cold and Sukuna had this overly smug look on his face.

It was from there on out that Gojo was set to face the consequences of his actions.

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tags 1/4; @lavnederr @stopmila @chelsea14 @hillmiaxoxo @choso-enthusiast

@chososdisciple @suguruologist @mitzkooni @annananamin @jakeywon

@thvema @uranometrias @gigiipeaches @isawrd @bored--boring

@soonyoung-park @oidloid @you-make-skz-stay @haesify @paintedcans

@deljojeisbackagain @heeheeswifey @s-kateboardcat @kaalyomi @rilxigh

@win2xsgf @diana4l @angelsleepinggurl @aselvaticotaku @livvyluvsyouu

@tadabzzzbee @buglikeangell @sukunadckrider @todod0kii @mua-for-now

@dazaiswaifuartisan @bee3l0v3r @blkpotionss @cranberrycosmos @cawwotta

@chosomi @gentle-roxyboo @teonawrites @interludered @wannabeotaku

@earthytreeswithc @tapinz @attackonjacksons @hovogliadisogni @hoebuns

[hearts4hughes]

JEALOUS LOVER | CORIOLANUS SNOW

young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: coriolanus battles to control his possessive and jealous nature when seeing you with a friend.

note: i’m aware that coriolanus is such a terrible person, but it doesn’t help that they casted tom blyth (the definition of perfect) as him. i couldn’t fight the urge to write about him and i’m glad i didn’t! hope you enjoy!

warnings: borderline toxic relationship?, jealousy, angst w/ a happy ending, fluff, gets a little steamy towards the end (🙈)

coriolanus watched from a distance, his piercing eyes fixated on your every move. as you engaged in conversation with sejanus, a fleeting smile playing on your lips, a storm brewed in his gaze. his jaw clenched; eyes, once crystal blue, were now dark and stormy.

discomfort envelops him, triggering nausea through his chest; he refuses to be treated like a child. however, the simple act or even the notion of you interacting with another man, fuels a visceral anger: clenched fists, muscles tense, poised to eradicate any man who even looks in your direction.

“you’re so funny, sejanus.” you laughed, your hand lightly grazing his bicep. the action was subconscious. a platonic movement that made no one bat an eyelash.

well, except for coriolanus.

his tongue ran over his teeth as he shook his head, trying to control himself. self-control, he repeated over, and over again in his mind. he’d learn how to control himself at such a young age. to know how to mask any emotion in order to appear professional and calm. but one look at you laughing and touching another male had him forgetting all of his previous lessons.

taking a deep breath, he made his way over to you. his attempt to remain composed was unsuccessful. his fair skin was painted deep shades of red; his breath was heavy with anger; his eyes narrowed as he shot daggers at sejanus.

“hi coryo!” you smiled, taking note of his tense stature. “we were just catching up.” your hand motions towards sejanus who greets him. the blonde nods, not impressed with the whole situation.

self-control.

“well, we better get going.” he stated simply, checking his watch. “it’s getting late and i don’t want y/n and i to walk home in the dark.” he feigned a tightlipped smile. your brows furrowed in confusion. it was nowhere near sunset, what had the boy in such a hurry?

“it was nice to see-” your words were cut short as coriolanus grabbed your arm, pulling you away from sejanus and towards the exit. your head turned between both boys before sending sejanus a pitiful smile to which he returned.

as coriolanus whisked you away, the corridor echoed with the abruptness of his hurried steps. his grip on your arm, firm yet possessive, spoke volumes.

the walk home was practically silent. tension sat in the air weighing down both of your shoulders. your gaze remained fixed on coriolanus’s side profile. meanwhile, his eyes remained focused on the sidewalk, meticulously scrutinizing the cracks and crevices in the concrete as if searching for answers in their patterns.

finally, you broke the grueling silence. “coryo, what’s wrong?” your hand finds its way to his, intertwining your fingers. coriolanus, his gaze momentarily lifting from the sidewalk, met your concerned eyes. the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift slightly. his jaw tightened, but his eyes softened, revealing a vulnerability beneath his anger. “it’s nothing,” he muttered, the words carrying the weight of something untold.

your brows furrowed in gentle concern, “you can talk to me. you know that right?” at this point your walking comes to a halt. your hand raises to brush his platinum curls away from his face. he nods, but he doesn’t dare meet your gaze— too ashamed of his pathetic insecurities. at last, he lets out a huff, caving into the warmth of your touch and the sweetness of your words.

“i just… i didn’t like seeing you with him,” he admitted, his tone laced with vulnerability and possessiveness.

“with sejanus?” you inquired.

“yes!” although he raised his voice, his tone was still hushed— embarrassed even. “seeing you with him today, laughing at his jokes and touching his arm, made me,” he paused to take a deep breath, “it all made me jealous.” your hand found its way to his face, your fingers brushing his cheeks soothingly.

“coryo, there’s no need to be jealous,” you reassured, your voice a gentle melody. “there’s no one else i’d rather be with than you.”

the words, a sweet offering of devotion, seemed to fan the flames within him. a smirk played on his lips, ego swelling with satisfaction as his eyes, once dark and stormy, now took on a smoldering gaze. a subtle shift in his demeanor was evident as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hands trailing dangerously close to your ass. without responding, coriolanus leaned in, his lips capturing yours with hunger.

the kiss was fiery and a desperate need for closeness. his hand slid sensuously along the curves of your waist, fingers tracing a path, as if claiming every inch of you. his lips moved with a skilled urgency, exploring the contours of your mouth. your tongues clashed together in each other’s mouths. the blonde swallowed your moans and whines, trapping them.

as you both reluctantly pulled away from the scorching kiss, a lingering heat hung in the air. a sly smirk played on both of your lips.

“you have no idea what you’re doing to me, y/n.” he said, breathlessly. “and i want you to remember that every inch of you is mine.” you smiled, not quiet realizing the toxicity of your boyfriend’s words. you were blinded by his sweet, pleasing words and his gorgeous face structure to even notice.

the rest of the walk was silent, but the air wasn’t filled with a lingering tension. no, if anything, it was filled with a newfound sense of lust and love.

[beachbxtchforev]

I’m Wearing UNC Blue for Him

after you support Rafe at his big game, he shows his appreciation for you on the way home.

pairing: basketballplayer!Rafe x fem!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: 18+, fingering, slow burn, some curse words, use of “baby”

1:37 left on the clock. the Heels lead the Huskies 78-72. Connecticut possession.

this was one of Rafe’s biggest games of the season. going against last year’s NCAA conference champs, UNC needs to pull off this win to secure a top bracket position. the roar of Chapel Hill was mind numbing, your ears were ringing from the chanting that surrounded you. today, you opted to sit with the Cameron’s instead of cheering from the student section because they often secured seats closer to the court. you wanted to be able to see Rafe up close, maybe even give him a glimpse of you showing your support for extra motivation.

the ball is thrown in from the sideline, making its way up the court towards UConn’s basket. their player goes for a layup and makes it. 78-74. 1:24. Kelce checks the ball to Rafe, with the two of them making their way back towards their hoop. UConn’s impressive defense forces the ball to be passed until Rafe can make his way into the paint. he once again gets the ball and is quickly fouled. just as you expected. you hate when the game is close in the end with both teams doing whatever it takes to prevent points.

you stand for Rafe’s free-throws, thumb nail up to your mouth out of habit, feeling the stress of 20,000 fans watching his every move. he bounces the ball, shoots, and sinks it. thank god, now just do it again. and he does. 80-74. 1:10.

the minute left of game play really takes ten, anxiety seeping into your every move. Rafe has the ball with four seconds left, taking a shot from the 3 point line. its in! the Heels win!

you fly out of your seat, hands reaching the air, quickly turning to Sarah at your side to embrace out of relief. Ward high fives you as Rose’s smile beams.

-

Rafe always takes a while to join the group after a game, especially one as big as tonight’s. when he comes out of the locker room you are so excited to see him that you run to jump into his arms. “you did it baby! im so proud of you,” you exclaim as you wrap your legs around his torso. he chuckles at your enthusiasm, pecking the side of your head.

once he lets you go, he shares moments with each of his family members and you walk hand in hand out of the facility.

a winning game day is always your favorite because it ensures a good mood from your boyfriend for the rest of the night.

“I can’t believe that last shot you made, you just had to rub the win in their face babe?” you jokingly question as he opens the passenger door to his truck for you.

“what can I say, im tryin to make some noise in prep for the tourney, baby. plus I really want to start getting NBA scouts’ attention.”

you watch as he rounds the front of the truck to get in.“well you got my attention, that’s for sure.” you smile at him, leaning over the center console to give him a peck on the mouth.

putting the car in drive, you guys head back towards his apartment. Drake plays through his speakers as you look out the window at your beautiful campus lit up by the moon. you’re pulled out of your trance by Rafe’s hand reaching out for your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. just like you predicted, he’s in a good mood from his win, so you might as well let him bask in it.

you’re wearing just a UNC vintage pullover that you stole from Rafe and some jean shorts, which you feel his hand working towards. biting your lip and sneaking a glance at him, you decide to unbutton the denim and slide it down your legs, revealing your lacey thong to the darkness of the truck. Rafe’s hand moves higher, grazing over the fabric of your shorts to meet the now bare skin of your hip, while his left hand controls the wheel. you let out a gasp when his fingers dip into the top of your panties, grazing your slit.

his actions are followed by a whimper from your mouth, already feeling yourself getting soaked. however, you have been turned on since you saw him in his Heel blue jersey on the court. his fingers apply pressure, finding your clit and moving in circles. your legs spread, giving him better access as he multitasks his way into giving you and orgasm. what can’t this man do?

“Rafey, inside me. please” you beg, wanting to feel his fingers.

“ya baby? want to get fucked by my fingers? huh?” he teases as he continues to maneuver the truck through the emptying streets.

“y-yes! yes, pl-“ your words are cut off my your own moan as Rafe’s middle and ring finger thrust into your entrance. he too groans at the feeling of your gummy walls around his fingers, blood rushing to his cock.

his fingers move in and out, working you open. he adjusts his hand so the heel of his palm can apply pressure to your clit while his fingers work your hole, warmth invading them. he adds a curling motion to his thrusts, finding the spot that almost always has you cumming.

“shit y/n. squeezing my fingers baby? you gonna cum?”

“please Rafe! im so close,” you moan out. band in your stomach ready to snap.

as soon as he turns the truck into the parking garage, fingers moving rapidly, you release, wetness coating his hand, your heavy breaths filling the cab. after a couple more pumps, he removes his fingers from you and slides them between his lips, collecting your juices. you turn your head to face him, hair slightly disheveled and sticking to your forehead.

“you taste so good baby,” he says, as he takes his fingers out of his mouth and tucks a misplaced piece of hair behind your ear.

leaning over to give you a needy kiss, he grasps your wrist, pulling your hand to feel his hardened cock.

“now how about we go upstairs and you give me a three celebratory rounds for that 3 pointer that impressed you so much?

-

let me know what you think ✨

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Lunch

Summary: Javi's rough start to the work week is turned around when he finds a surprise from his daughters in his lunch

Word Count: 3.1K (oops)

Paring: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: Literally nothing but sweet, sickening fluff, Javi being so in love with his family, Javi being the ultimate girl dad, a lot of glitter (?)

A/N: Our favorite family is back! I am a firm believer that Girl Dad!Javi keeps every single piece of artwork his daughters give to him and has a wall at his office dedicated to all of their drawings and crafts because he refuses to get rid of any of them 😭 I love them so much, they make me sick, your honor 🫡 unbeata bc that's just who I am, apologies in advance for the mistakes

Series Masterlist. Never Too Late Masterlist

4 hours into Monday and Javier Peña was already counting down the hours until Friday. It seemed like this week was going to have no problem giving Javi a swift kick in the ass back to reality after another blissful weekend with you and the girls, a grumpy frown falling upon his face, wishing he could rewind back just a few hours to when the biggest problems he was trying solved revolved around which book his daughters were picking out for bedtime, rather than strategy meetings on how to solve the better half of the southern drug trade still ranging in Mexico. 

Rubbing his hands over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Javi let out a sigh, grumbling low in his chest before running his hands through the dark curls of his hair, praying that the closed door of his office was enough to give his co-workers at the Laredo Sheriff's Department enough of a clue to let him at least try to enjoy his lunch in silence.  

Shuffling and stacking a few stray papers left out on his desk, Javi cleared a space for the brown paper sack he mindlessly pulled out of his work bag, plopping it in front of him without a second look. He shuffled through the pocket he knew he had an extra fork in somewhere, considering he was at the point of eating his lunch with nothing but his hands before venturing out to the common kitchen where the rest of his co-workers were, ready to disrupt the sacred silence and peace that was his lunch time. 

“Of course I forgot a fucking fork…” Javi grumbled to himself, abandoning his search in his bag after a few minutes, letting out another disappointed huff, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the speckled tiles of the ceiling. Javi was just about to get up, bracing himself for the perilous journey for a plastic fork he was about to embark on, when the corner of the lunch bag perched on his desk caught his eye. 

Was that… glitter?

As his gaze shifted down the rest of his bag, Javi’s impatient and bothered demeanor had quickly shifted, a soft smile growing between his cheeks, picking up the lunch sack that had very clearly been given a makeover by his daughters before disappearing into his work bag this morning. 

What was once a plain brown paper bag had somehow been turned into a hodgepodge of arts and crafts- glitter, pink and purple hearts, several stickers from separate collections of puppies, Star Wars, and unicorns, doodles and drawings from each of the girls, and a stray Batman band-aid that Harper must have added, considering the 17 she had covered herself in last night for fun. 

Quietly laughing to himself at his girl’s creation, Javi spent a few moments thoroughly examining all sides of the bag, his heart melting to read “Daddy’s Lunch- From Lucy, Elliot, Harper and Mommy” scribbled across the front. 

Carefully, Javi opened the top of the crinkly brown paper, revealing a plethora of surprising goodies inside, the first being a tiny stuffed cow and a fruit-by-the-foot that he obviously had no recollection of packing for himself last night. Setting the things down on his desk, Javi shuffled through the next added layer, this one consisting of another fruit-by-the-foot and a half eaten granola bar, which one of the girls clearly had gotten into before his lunch had departed from home.

 The last thing hiding lunch was a piece of paper that had been folded several times to fit inside the bag, Javi gently removing it with the rest of his surprise treasures. As he unfolded the now somewhat crumpled paper, the grin on his face began to grow wider and wider, seeing the colorful crayon creations doodled on the page. Before him, sat a paper with drawings of each of the girls done by themselves, perfectly embodying their tiny personalities. Lucy’s was neatly sketched and colored, and then outlined in a darker color to make the inside colors pop, Elliot’s had crazy scribbled hair and was holding a hockey stick in not one, but both hands, and Harpers was done in every color that the Crayola crayon box had to offer. 

As if their adorable self-portraits weren’t enough to have him in a puddle, in the middle of their artwork was a drawing of Javi standing between them with the words “We love you Daddy!”  etched in big, pink bubble letters above them. 

Javi had been so enamored by the art his daughters had made him, taking in every stroke and scribble on the page, he hadn’t noticed the smaller note that had fallen to his desk, your neat and careful handwriting etched across the paper. 

Jav,

3 little munchkins were very insistent on re-making Daddy’s lunch last night, and even more insistent on decorating your very boring brown bag. They told me that they were adding a few surprises to your lunch, so this is me apologizing in advance for any half eaten snacks or stuffed animals that may have ended up in there. I hope you have a great day, we all miss you lots and can’t wait to see you later. 

Love you lots, 

Osita 

Even though it was nothing but a few words scribbled down on a piece of paper and a drawing similar to one he had seen a thousand times before, it never failed to surprise Javi how something so small really did mean everything to him.  

Years ago, still working for the DEA, in the midst of chaos and corruption in Colombia, one of his former agents had always insisted on carrying his “lucky” drawing from his son in his back pocket on every mission he was sent on. Back then, the idea of carrying a colored, crumpled piece of paper in his jeans for good luck seemed like a somewhat ridiculous notion, but now, as Javi stared up at the bulletin board next to his desk, overflowing with drawings, paintings, and projects from his 3 daughters, he couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t hold any gift from his girls so near and dear to his heart that he ever dared to let it go. 

Overlapping his newest artwork over the most recent crafts given to him to hang in his office, Javi hung today’s drawing at the front and center of the board, your note nestled next to it, beaming with pride at the love and and joy at how full his heart felt from a few simple pieces of paper. 

Admiring just a little longer before reaching over to the phone at the corner of his desk, Javi began to punch the familiar pattern of your home phone number on the receiver, patiently tapping his fingers as the line rang, the other hand grabbing his actual lunch food out of the flamboyantly decorated bag. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey baby, it’s me.” 

“Hi. Is everything okay?” You questioned cautiously, somewhat surprised by his mid-day work call. 

“No, everything is-” He paused, smiling back his lunch bag, “everything is great. I just had some time during lunch and wanted to see if the 3 stooges are around so I can say thank you for my lunch.” 

“Oh God, I almost forgot that was last night’s surprise project. How bad was it? I was only there to supervise lunch bag decorating because they were adamant they were more than capable than packing extra snacks for you.” You snickered, Javi practically almost able to see the hysterical look plastering your face through the phone, laughing right along with you at the adorable gifts they had left behind for him. 

“Well, I got…” Javi stopped, reaching back over in his pile of goodies, “two fruit-by-the-foots, a stuffed purple cow, and a half eaten granola bar that has Elliot written all over it.” 

“Is that Daddy? Did he get our lunch?! Did he like it?!” A chorus of little voices squealed in the background. 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself.” You snickered, the muffled and muted sounds of the phone being passed off to the girls rustling through the other end of the line as Javi nestled his phone between his ear and shoulder, beginning to open up his food as he waited for a response from his daughters. 

“Hi Daddy!” The 3 shouted through the phone in unison.

“Hola, pollitas! (Hi, little chickens) Thank you so much for my lunch today!” 

“Did you like the bag, Daddy? It was my idea to make it look pretty because the brown is so boring.” Lucy boasted, in her lovingly know-it-all tone, making sure her dad knew she was without a doubt, the ringleader of the lunchtime antics. 

“I added the extra snacks!” Elliot chimed in, making sure her voice was well pronounced through the phone ensuring that Javi could her her contributions. 

“I helped-ed too!” Harper interrupted, trying to butt in over her sisters. 

“Well, Mommy helped a little bit too, but it was mostly us!” 

“Was it a surprise, Daddy?” 

“Best surprise I’ve had in a very long time. I already put your drawing up on my board so everyone can see your beautiful artwork. I think everyone at work is gonna start thinking I have professional artists that live in my house.” Javi’s cheeks were already sore from the goofy grin that was only getting wider every second he listened to his daughter’s sweet little voices on the phone, the girls erupting in a fit of giggles at his compliment. “Los amos mucho, morritas (I love you so much, kiddos).” 

“Hey Boss, you gotta second, I-” Agent Carter half knocked, opening Javi’s office door, stopping in his tracks as he met Javi’s cheerful grin turned death glare upon his arrival, slowly retracting his steps while Javi let out a scornful sigh, holding his hand out to get Carter to at least let him wrap up before dealing with whatever bullshit was coming his way. 

“Hey pollitas? Daddy has to get back to work, but I’ll see you in a little bit when I get home, okay? I love you so much. Can you pass the phone back to Mom?” 

“Okay, bye Daddy! Mommy! Mommy, Daddy wants to say goodbye!” 

“The gremlins said you wanted to say goodbye?” You laughed over the clatter of the phone being handed haphazardly back to you. 

“Yeah baby, I gotta go back to work, but I just wanted to say I love you and thanks for helping them with lunch, it was really fucking cute. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“The cutest 3 stinkers that I’ve ever met. I love you too, Jav. Bye, babe.” 

“Love you, bye.” 

As the dial tone went silent, Javi hung up the phone, taking in a deep exhale, still holding his hand out at his co-worker to preemptively prevent whatever what stupid remark was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I wasn’t gonna say anything!” Carter winced, holding up his hands in defense at Javi’s death glare, trying his best to hide the sly smirk spreading between his lips. “…. I just never really struck you for a rainbow glitter type of guy.” 

“Fuck off, Carter. Give me 10 more minutes to try and eat my lunch in fucking peace.” Javi groaned, trying to shoo him back out the door he had barged in from.

“Okay, okay, message received! I will say…I do think the glitter really does capture your bright and sparkly personality though, the unicorn stickers are really a nice-” 

“Carter…” 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m leaving! “ 

As the door clicked shut, Javi let his annoyance slip back to content, letting the colorful sparkle of his lunch back serve as his beacon of hope for the rest of the work day, thankful for the extra piece of home he got to keep with him until he got to see his girls again. 

“Hey, I’m home!” Javi’s familiar voice rang through the hallway, barely 3 steps through the front door before the girls were rushing through the house, barrelling towards their dad to attack him with the biggest bear hugs their little bodies could muster. 

“Daddy!” They screeched, wrapping around every free inch of Javi’s body that they could reach, giggling as he crouched down to greet them, peppering them with ticklish kisses all over their faces. 

“Hola, Pollitas! Oh, I missed you guys! Did you guys have a good day today?” Javi grinned, now letting the bags he was holding in his hands drop to the floor, collecting his daughters in his grasp, wrapping them up in the tightest hug he could manage through their excited squirms and wiggles. 

“Yeah, we went to the park with Mommy and then we came home and played soccer and then ran through the sprinkler!” Lucy beamed, her sisters nodding in happy agreement, excited to tell their dad about today’s shenanigans while he was at work. 

“I scored two goals on Mommy!” Elliot added, her face lighting up with pride at her accomplishment. 

“No way! Nice stuff, Ellie Bellie!” Javi grinned, holding his hand out for a ferocious high-five from Elliot, pretending to shake his hand in pain at her strength, making the girls snicker at their dad’s overdramatics. “Hey, can you tell me where Momma is, I gotta go say hi to her too and then you can tell me all about the rest of your day, okay?” 

“She’s in the kitchen making dinner!” Lucy replied, giggling as Javi pressed a long kiss into the top of her head, nestled between her messy hair. 

“Mommy’s makin’ ‘pisgetti!” Harper cooed, Lucy and Elliot trying their best to keep from laughing at their youngest sister’s inability to pronounce spaghetti. 

“Thanks, lindas (cuties). Why don’t you guys go clean up your stuff and then we can help Mom with the rest of dinner?” 

“Okay!” The three agreed, dashing back through the house and disappearing down the hallways, Javi laughing to himself as he kicked off his shoes and picked up his bags, heading into the kitchen to find you at the stove, happily humming and swaying your hips to the radio playing in the background as you cooked, so wrapped up in what you were doing that you hadn’t realized your husband’s presence. 

Quietly setting down his bags on the counter, Javi rested his hip against the stone ledge, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you work, wondering to himself if he would ever get over how even the simplest things like watching you make dinner made him fall more and more in love with you, the familiar warmth of home and you creeping through his cheeks in a soft smile. 

“Hi, Momma.” He smirked, making you squeal in surprise as he snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a soft kiss into your shoulder, rocking you back and forth in his grasp. “I missed you guys today.” 

“Hi, handsome. We missed you, too. The girls haven’t stopped asking when you were going to be home since you called at lunch time. They were so excited you liked your lunch. Sorry if it was a little obnoxious. I tried to tell ‘em to go easy on the glitter, so hopefully none ended up in your food.” You chuckled, shaking your head at the image of the finished lunch bag that had made its way to work with Javi this morning. You turned around to face Javi, his hands still resting on your hips as you draped your arms over his shoulders, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your lips meet his, his mouth lingering just a little longer than usual as you felt his smile growing amidst his kiss. “What was that for?” You blushed, butterflies swirling in your stomach as his lips gently pulled away from yours, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on your skin in the space where your t-shirt and shorts parted. 

“I love you so much. You and the girls, I just- I’m just so thankful for all of you.” Javi grinned, the soft brown of his eyes sparkling in the kitchen light, looking you up and down as if in awe of the fact that you were the woman he got to hold in his grasp at the end of each day for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too, you goof.” 

Before your lips could meet again, the happy giggles of your girls flooded through the kitchen, their little pitters and patters of their feet tumbling the hallway to greet the both of you again. Peeking over Javi’s shoulder, you cocked your head in confusion at the plastic bag your girls were now rummaging through on the counter, wondering what Javi had been shopping for on his way home. 

“What’s in the bag, Jav?” 

“Well…” He paused, making his way over to the kitchen counter with the girls, picking up the bag and tipping it over, shaking its contents out in front of them, “I figured, since the munchkins did such a good job with today’s lunch bag-” 

“STICKERS!” 

“GLITTER PENS?!”

“PUFFY PAINT!” 

The girls shrieked, picking up the various brightly colored craft items Javi had brought home with him, along with a pack of brown paper bags, making the reason for his pit stop abundantly clear, and making you smile even wider than you already were. 

“...I figured, I still have 4 days of lunches left, and you guys did such a good job with my lunch today, that you could decorate the rest of my lunch bags for the week.” 

“Really?!” The girls squealed, their faces lighting up in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Javi beamed, reaching his arms around the girls to pick them up, the 3 laughing and squirming in pure joy, your heart bursting at the seams watching just how much Javi loved his little girls and the silliest, smallest things he would do just to make them smile. 

“Mommy, can we start right now!? Please, please, pleaseeeeee?” Lucy begged, Elliot and Harper joining in with their silent plea of sweet puppy eyes. 

“Let’s help Mommy with dinner and then we can-” 

“It’s okay, I think spaghetti can wait a little longer.” 

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem

[bellarkeselection]

You're Good Together, Man

Anonymous request - Joey's friend comes to town, and everyone's shocked that Joey doesn't like her in a more than friend way. When Chandler gets nervous during a conversation and leaves upset, the reader follows him to see what's wrong.

Tags @lover-of-books-and-tea @rosie-posie08

Walking up the stairs in the building I finally found the right apartment door knocking three times on the door until it opened, revealing Joey, my best friend. "Hey Joe, I finally made it."

"Hey y/n. I can’t believe you could come this weekend. Oh you've got to meet my friends across the hall." He told me closing the apartment door behind him.

Nodding my head, yes I followed him across the hallway. We entered the apartment seeing a few different people all hanging out on the couch. There was a blonde girl, another with black straight hair and finally a third girl with light brown hair. I saw there was one guy that was wearing a bright blue shirt but had similar hair to one of the girls meaning they were siblings. “Hey guys this is my friend Y/n from school.”

“Hey everybody.” I raised my hand with a smile.

The girl with dark black hair came over to me. “I’m Monica, so how do you two know each other?”

“We met when he was first looking for acting jobs. My father was holding auditions when we met. And this guy knows how to have fun watching movies and ordering pizza.” I shrugged my shoulders nudging Joey.

The girl with light brown hair came up and hugged me. “I’m Rachel. So Joey, have you two ever dated or anything?”

“Me and Y/n.” Joey started laughing.

Covering my mouth I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. Joey and I had never considered being in a relationship together. Hitting my hands on my knees I was still laughing. “We would never work out. He’s like a brother to me. Always has been always will be.”

“Yeah. How you doin’ don’t work on her.” Joey replied with a cheeky smile.

The guy that was wearing a blue sweatshirt and sat on the couch spun around joking. “Was it because of your snoring or was it because you're crazy enough to not go out with your friend.”

“I’m not afraid of asking her out.” He replied to the other guy.

Clasping my hand together I sit down at the table. The last guy that looked like Monica came over to me suggesting a nice offer. “Hi I’m Ross, Monica’s brother. Well how about I take you out to dinner while Joey is at his audition.”

“No! You’re with Rachel or whatever is going on between you two.” Joey pointed his finger.

Ross throws his hands away from his side. “What’s wrong with me taking her to dinner.”

“Because you are with Rachel.” He said.

Rachel made a face. “Joey, we’re not together now. I broke up with him a few weeks ago.”

“But then you 're telling us how much you missed him after a few glasses of wine.” The blonde named Phoebe teased her.

Rachel started getting nervous and I could tell there was something going on between them. Joey had told me that he had two friends who had an on and off again thing. “Guys, I don’t like Ross anymore.”

“Sure that’s what they all said before you wake up in the middle of the night and scream oh my gosh I love Ross.”

Ross rolled his eyes. “Not helping Chandelier.”

“Oh sorry I was talking about pizza.” Chandler chuckled at him.

I smiled, shifting my gaze over to the Chandler guy. It had been a while since I had been on a date. Since my father was an actor most of the guys that seemed interested in me were ones who wanted a part in his shows or movies. If they didn’t get the part then I wouldn’t see them again. “Chandler, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Uh no I prefer being alone and horny.” He answered my question by rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you seeing anybody or just pining over Joey?”

Joey throws his hands up. “Stop hitting on her.”

“You’re just denying your feelings for her.” Phoebe smiled.

Joey stomped around the apartment pointing fingers at his two guy friend’s being all dramatic over their teasing on whether or not we had feelings for one another. “There’s nothing going on. You aren’t dating her and you aren’t dating her.”

Chandler got up from the couch walking up to him. “Wait why me. I get Ross but me. Am I so crazy that no girl would go out with me?”

“You and Ross repel women all the time.” My best friend explained before I watched Chandler move past him and shut the door quickly behind himself. Watching the door for a second I don’t know what came over me but I get up to my feet slipping through the door and across the hallway.

Shutting the door quietly I noticed that Chandler was laying on the couch and there was half of a pizza missing from a box on the floor. “Hey, are you open to sharing some of that pizza with me?”

“Actually Joe, I want this pizza for the rest of my life.” He sat up hearing me laugh at his comment. “Y/n, oh sorry sure.”

Kicking my shoes off at the door I went over to him I plopped down on the couch beside him. We ate pizza in silence until I remembered what he had said earlier. “So is this how you get all the girls to your apartment huh. Mistake them for your best friend and then apologize with pizza?”

“Actually, no. I have decided that I would rather die alone.” He replies to me.

Shaking my head I nervously smiled. “You joke a lot.”

“Yeah sorry I started using jokes as a safety measure after my parents got divorced. It works on the ladies at first but here I am sitting with you shoving my face with pizza.”

“Oh you mean like this?” I throw pepperoni at his face.

He shakes his head smiling and throwing some at me. I leaned forward trying to grab a full on slice and throw it across his face. But I fell off the couch when he tried to catch me and we tumbled to the ground together. “Oh geez Y/n.”

“Awe sorry for the mess.” I apologize seeing that we were both covered in red pizza sauce and cheese now laying on the floor with him on top of me. “Crap it’s late and I have to take two different trains to get home.”

Chandler focused his attention onto mine and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to date you. You had a fun side that was easy to get along with. You didn’t find his nervous joke gag weird. “You could stay here tonight if you want.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude. This is your apartment.” I sat up where he offered me his hands helping me to my feet.

He laid down on the couch with open arms telling me to lay down with him. “I live with Joey. Trust me your company would be less crazy. I’ll even stay up with ya till you fall asleep.” I nodded laying down with him on the couch curling up on his chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist so I wouldn’t fall on the floor and we remained that way until we fell asleep together.

A few hours later the apartment door opened again and Chandler lifted his head up quickly waking up seeing Joey was back. He panicked feeling Y/n fully asleep on his chest so he couldn’t run away like he wanted. “Joe, it’s not what it looks like. I’m not messing around with her I swear.”

“Shhh you’ll wake her up.” Joey raised a hand to his mouth.

Chandler eyed his roommate confused. “Aren’t you mad after you said we couldn’t date her?”

“Nah man. She has been through some bad relationships in the past that’s why I said no to Ross.” Joey smiled reassuringly seeing a smile on your face when she snuggled up against Chandler more. “You two would be good together.”

Chandler went to move his arm shocked that he said the words. In such a short time he had found himself wanting to spend more time with his friend. “You’re not gonna be mad if I ask her out?”

“Ask away brother. Don’t wake her up now..” Joey crossed the room pausing outside his room before leaving the pair alone. That next morning you were more than happy to say yes to a date with Chandler.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: after you'd sent Xavier a text that told him not to meet you, you'd ventured to the school at dawn, alone, bouquet in hand as promised.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

🚨💀⚠️thank you for bearing with me, guys. this is entirely new material. PART 24/25/26 have been combined here to create a massive fluffing installment (6509 words 😮‍💨). i'd suggest rereading at least the latter half of PART 23 beforehand if you need a refresh of the point in time we're returning to. please pretend that the old parts never happened. erase them from your memories 🕰️👁️‍🗨️💤🌀

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.24

It was barely 6AM. You'd hardly slept after Dave had returned you to the house. He'd watched you climb the stairs to the second floor, ever the persistent warden, before you'd heard him slink down to the basement he and Aurora had converted into their private apartment. Besides the numerous big reveals that had unfolded last night—Ajay's odd friendship with your sister, Simon's warped inverse of your ability, Maddie's soul penetrating the field of your cosmic artery, the soul-tie you and Wally somehow shared—besides all of that, something, a feeling of profound unrest, had kept you up. Had you staring at the green stars on Aiden's ceiling until your alarm began to chime.

Sharing a soul-tie with Wally should've been the thing that terrified you most amongst all that'd transpired. It was unheard of, curious, downright impossible in nature. Soul-ties were as fragile as they were strong and required both souls to be alive, together in the same lifetime in the world of the living, to exist. That Wally was extremely not alive should've made you question the validity of the connection you and he had. Especially given there was evidence of magical tampering on school grounds, a spiteful, bitter essence sickened into the ether that surrounded the campus.

And yet, that nor the symbol etched into the tree, that bastardized amalgamation of runic lines, hadn't been what you'd kept ruminating about from the moment you'd laid down until dawn. No, it'd been Dave. Something about how he'd come out of the trees, so steady and sure-footed; how his eyes had held your gaze as he'd marched toward you.

You pressed your fingers into your eyes and groaned. There was no use thinking about it further. Not now. You had a bouquet to put together and two friends to save. Dave's feline equilibrium had to wait. With a grunt you rolled out of Aiden's little-kid bed and shuffled into your room, not daring to check your appearance in the mirror. You could feel the bags under your eyes. Heavy and dark like someone had injected squid ink beneath the delicate skin.

Showering was a groggy, clumsy affair, appendages weak and a step behind your brain's transmissions. You did what you could to make yourself presentable, hoped to conceal the fatigue behind a cute outfit: A thin, loose, autumn-orange destination sweater tucked partially into a slim, black denim skirt with opaque black tights underneath. You applied makeup where you needed it to hide the sleep deprivation and called it at that, unable to muster the strength for much else. It was going to be a long, long, l o n g day.

But worth it, you reminded yourself firmly in a voice not unlike Wally's, because you were going to find a way to help Simon and once Simon was helped, you'd both find a way to get Maddie back on the right side of the veil.

A sweep of berry-tinted lipgloss and you dragged yourself outside into your Nanna's garden, brandishing a pair of pruning shears from the mud room you'd passed through on your way out. You clipped a variety of flowers and piled them on the bouquet paper you'd liberated from the stash Nanna (and now Aurora) kept at the house. Once accomplished, it was time to head out and you sighed in regret that you'd texted Xavier to sleep in, telling him you wanted to be alone that morning to center yourself before having to face your classmates after yesterday's ordeal.

It wasn't entirely false. It couldn't have been. You didn't lie to Xavier as a personal commandment. But it wasn't entirely the truth either and you felt queasy from it. Still, you sucked in a deep breath and forced yourself to move forward. Nanna was in the kitchen when you walked in with the bouquet, sitting at the table as she waited for the kettle to boil. You could smell the floral tea blend Nanna, Aurora, and Dave drank. Even dry the scent was potent, overwhelming the herb and warm spice aroma the kitchen usually held. You nearly gagged as you passed the open teapot, the concoction inside like a punch to the nose when you got too close.

"Good morning, Maypie." Nanna smiled warmly, patting the table in front of the seat beside her. The nickname irritated you, too close to the one you'd scolded Xavier for using yesterday, but it was Nanna and you couldn't find it in yourself to say something.

Instead, "Morning, Nanna," you greeted with a yawn, setting the bouquet on the counter as you traipsed toward the sink to fill a glass of water. "Can't sit. Gotta get to school."

Nanna hummed in acknowledgment and you could tell she was checking the time on the stove before she turned to face you in her chair. "Awfully early, isn't it?"

"So early," You agreed with a sob of disdain as you brought the glass to your lips for a sip of cold water. Your skin began to feel warm and wherever you rested your gaze seemed irrationally farther than where it should be. Shaking your head to dispel what you assumed was a lack of sleep, you took a deep drink from your glass.

Nanna tilted her head and raised a snowy brow at something near your elbow, "And who are those for?"

For a brief moment, you didn't grasp the question, casting about to understand. When your eyes landed on the bouquet beside the sink, you blinked slowly at it, lids like lead. The floral aroma itched your nostrils, traveled into your skull, a thick fog dampening your mental processing.

Sedate, you panned your head and stared properly at the bouquet, told Nanna, "It's for Maddie," confused as to why you'd believed you shouldn't. That desperate, nagging feeling you'd had earlier when thinking of last night—last night?—growled in warning in the back of your mind, but it was so far away you easily ignored it.

"Oh, how lovely," Nanna replied, standing to put her hands on your shoulders and rub your arms kindly, "I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture when she comes home."

"Who will appreciate what gesture?" Ginny croaked from the doorway, slugging into the kitchen in a silk robe and thick, knitted socks up to her knees. You knew she wore them to keep in place the gauze she slathered in anti-aging creams and wore overnight. Grumpy and rumpled, she questioned, "Who're the flowers for?"

You huffed a laugh as you watched her pull out a chair and drop into the seat, seeming as ill-suited to the morning as you.

"They're for Maddie," Nanna explained and, immediately, Ginny straightened, her glazed eyes turning sharp as they landed on you.

"She's back?" She asked.

You shook your head, "No," and you were tired, so tired, and couldn't quite seem to formulate the words to explain why you were taking flowers to school for Maddie who hadn't actually returned from wherever she'd run off to in order to accept them.

"Is it a shrine thing?" Ginny asked.

A feeling of awareness clawed through the mist that had filled your head. You felt an insidious tickle in the back of your nose, gasped a breath, and then released a cathartic blast of a sneeze, expelling that horrible, heady floral scent.

You blinked several times as you recovered your wits, glancing at the bouquet and then between Nanna and Ginny, at last able to think clearly, "Something like that. We're just trying to stay positive. Principal Hartman said he'd pass along whatever we bring in to Maddie's mom." And there you were, feeling like yourself again, able to map out a plausible lie to keep Wally (and, by extension, Maddie-as-a-ghost) safe from whatever Ginny or your mother could do if they discovered you were conspiring with the school's dead.

Ginny returned to a slouch, propping her head on her fist, "That's nice of you." She looked halfway back to sleep when you gave her a kiss goodbye, patting your thigh limply and muttering a slurred farewell. As you shrugged into your leather jacket, you heard Ginny scoff at Nanna, barking, "Don't you bring that nasty stuff near me, I don't know how you drink it," and couldn't help but snort because, truly, not even a man dying of thirst would accept a cup of that tea.

"I'm taking mom's car." You announced, peeking back into the kitchen. Your mother was on what constituted for her as a work trip; taking money to perform a ceremony that had no bearing on the ghosts—if they hadn't already crossed over as many of them had—at all. The concept was as stupid as it was a scam and you were revolted that someone in your family, who you'd once respected, was capable of performing such a farce.

Fucking. Ghost weddings.

You pressed your lips in a line in an effort to control the disgusted expression you knew you'd make upon thinking about it. Without looking at you, Nanna and Ginny gave their assent and carried on bickering after wishing you a pleasant day.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

"So," Maddie said in a neutral tone which set Wally's teeth on edge, "How long have you guys really known each other?"

It was just him and her outside, lingering by the door waiting for you and Xavier to arrive. Wally leaned while Maddie sat on an empty bike rack adjacent to the entrance, looking out over the parking lot like watchmen on duty. The others were inside; Ajay had vowed to coax Mina down from the rafters while Charlie and Rhonda had simply wanted to observe how that interaction went after learning Ajay and Mina were entangled in their own version of a relationship. Strange and unconventional and, apparently, wholesome though Wally had no idea what that meant coming from Ajay.

"I was wondering when you were gonna ask me." Wally said, ducking his head sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck. He lifted his gaze to Maddie, "Not long. Since Field Day."

Maddie's brows raised, but she remained composed. After a few moments of silence, Maddie spoke again, a smile in her voice, "She talked about you a lot."

Wally swallowed, his heart fluttering at the information, unable to repress the feeling of giddiness that fizzled through him. Regardless, he tried to play it cool, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. She always said her 'ghost was so hot' and that she was 'saving herself for her ghost'." She paused, chewed her lip, and stared down at her lap as she thought about what to say next. "Looking back, I guess she thought she could hide in plain sight." And then, with a snort, "And it worked. None of us believed her for a second. It never even crossed my mind that it could be true until I got here."

Wally nudged her side in a friendly motion. "Was she right?" He snickered, teasing, "Am I hot?"

Maddie shoved his head down playfully with a laugh, "You're an idiot." Another comfortable beat. She hummed quietly before she revealed in a gentle tone, "You two are cute together. If it means anything."

"It does," Wally said and it was true. It was more reassuring than it should've been to have someone on the outside see what he saw. Cemented it somehow.

Another few minutes passed before a car pulled into the parking lot. Maddie jumped down from her perch, face screwed up in confusion, "Wasn't she bringing Xavier?"

Wally could see the tension she'd been holding in her shoulders slowly diminish as you parked and climbed out. Alone. He and Maddie made their way over to greet you, twin smiles of relief on their faces. Wally hadn't been keen to see that dickbag anytime soon. It was better for everyone that you'd decided to leave him behind.

"Hey guys," You said, eyes automatically finding Wally's, his heart beating that much harder in his chest. You seemed to read the unspoken question and informed, "I thought we'd get more accomplished if Xavier wasn't here."

Maddie nodded, "Smart," visibly grateful for your forethought.

Wally treaded around the front of the car you'd driven and scooped you up into a solid hold, one arm under your thighs while the other clamped at a diagonal on your back, his hand tangling in your hair. Looking at you closely, he could see the exhaustion beneath the surface and felt a pang of guilt for agreeing with everyone (including you) that you should come as early as permissible by school standards.

"Hey, baby," He uttered, pressed his forehead to yours with a lopsided, affectionate grin, and hinted greedily for a kiss that you supplied without complaint. He almost groaned as your lips yielded under his, the simple touch striking a match low in his belly. Fuck, he wanted you. Like, always. Was hardwired at this point to get aroused whenever you were within arm's length. It was driving him half insane that he couldn't climb into the back of the car with you, have you straddle his lap, and show you how affected he was by you.

"Rhonda's right," Maddie commented from the sidelines, referencing something Rhonda had said the previous night after you'd left with your brother-in-law. "You guys are gross."

You pulled away from Wally with a cackle, prompting him to place you back on your feet, and said, "Oh, like you and Zav aren't just as bad."

Twirling around and bending (very nicely) into the backseat of the car to collect your things, you didn't see the look that flashed across Maddie's face, one of hurt and betrayal and anger, but Wally did and it made him want to grab you by the shoulders, and shake you until you stopped thinking the world of Xavier Baxter. He wouldn't dare do that, of course, you were too precious, and he couldn't imagine doing anything to frighten you like that. On the contrary, he'd proudly do things to Xavier that would earn Wally a spot on a Most Wanted list if he'd still been alive.

He pushed those thoughts down when you straightened, lifting a lush, full bouquet into your arms which you handed over to Maddie in a way that signaled to Wally you and she were used to each other's motions and mannerisms. Again, you reached into the car, grabbed your backpack, and hoisted it out of the backseat. Wally noticed that it seemed to weigh more to you than normal and took it from you, slinging it over his shoulder with a broad grin.

"Such a gentleman," You teased, though Wally could see how much you enjoyed the gesture by the way you pinked up so sweetly. He slung his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side as you and he walked, stamping a kiss to your hair and openly breathing in the scent of musky vanilla and coconut.

"Wait." Maddie said, just as you and Wally were about to reach the door. You and he paused, turning to look at Maddie as she regarded the bouquet in her hands and then the backpack on Wally's shoulder, an intense cast to her features. "How..." She squinted at you, "Where are the originals?" Scanned back to the car, then you, then the bouquet.

"Originals?" You asked, completely lost, though Wally recognized what Maddie meant. It hadn't occurred to him how unfeasible it was that he still had the notes you'd given him stashed away in his private, just-for-him corner of the school; none of the resets between now and then had vanished them as resets were wont to do.

"Yeah, the originals." Maddie repeated.

Wally stepped in, taking over the explanation since Maddie appeared to struggle with how to phrase that every object they, as ghosts, picked up was just a clone of one that stayed anchored in the living world. He did his best to describe it, beckoning both you and Maddie to follow him so he could show you an example with a piece of chalk in an unlocked classroom. He lifted it, of course wielding the copy while the original remained in place, untouched, not even a sign that it'd been tampered with.

You cocked your head, lifting the original and handing it to Maddie who took it without issue. Experimenting, Maddie placed it back on the chalk ledge, left it there for multiple seconds, and then instructed Wally to, "Pick it up now."

Wally did.

As in he actually did. Picked up the original, no immense, herculean emphasis of energy required (and that very, very rarely worked, normally resulting in a brief flicker of an already on-its-way-out lightbulb). How had Wally not noticed before?

"Gnarly," Wally laughed, tossing the chalk in the air and catching it. "Do you think the living see it floating if I'm holding it?" He began to zoom it around like a toy airplane. "I wonder if it works the other way."

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Like, things that we brought with us into the afterlife," Maddie clarified, "Do you think you could make them real on your side?"

You shrugged and admitted, "I didn't even know I could do this until you guys pointed it out." And then you sighed and rubbed your temples, "Another thing to add to the laundry list of stuff I have to look in to." You looked at Maddie, "I'd probably need someone who can't see you guys to confirm whether or not it works both ways."

Wally strode over to you, putting the chalk back down on the ledge as he went. He adjusted the weight of your backpack on his shoulder so he could cradle your face in both of his big palms. "One thing at a time, baby," He said, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Let's check off giving Mina the flowers and then go from there, okay?"

You slumped, thankful, and slanted into him so that your forehead was pressed to the center of his chest, "That sounds like a good plan."

Together, you, Wally, and Maddie strolled to the theater, passing Mr. South who welcomed you with a friendly wave and a short hello. His eyes seemed to flicker this way and that, as if sensitive to the school lighting, as he watched you walk by, Maddie close to your side, Wally a half-step behind and falling farther back as he studied Mr. South. Vaguely, he heard the man mutter, "Mm, dahlias," but that was about as much fuss as he expressed. Nothing to indicate Mr. South saw a puppeted bouquet or levitating backpack drifting down the hall of their own volition.

Wally caught up to you and Maddie quickly, his hand finding the small of your back on instinct. Rhonda and Charlie were already outside the theater when you, Maddie, and Wally arrived, Charlie rising from where he'd been seated on the floor as Rhonda pushed herself off the wall, today's lollipop stuffed into her cheek.

"Well, Ajay got her down," She announced, rolling her eyes, "But she refuses to talk to us. She won't even answer Ajay if he asks because she knows the questions aren't his." Belligerent, Rhonda shook her head, "And I thought Janet was a diva."

Charley shook his head, "I'm sorry, but that," He hooked his thumb over his shoulder to stipulate Mina's behavior, "isn't anywhere near as bad as Janet was. At least Mina was polite when she told us where to go."

Rhonda conceded with a bob of her head, pursed lips, and raised brows. Upon noticing the flowers, she remarked, "Huh, you came through, strawberry pie," her tone impressed, "Next time you should bring lover boy a new wardrobe," a smirk at Wally and a coy look at you, "He looks pretty good in jeans."

Wally cleared his throat and squeezed you to him tightly, his gaze soft and imploring as he said, "Ignore her, you don't have to bring me anything," then to Rhonda, "She's not our personal gofer."

Rhonda raised her hands in surrender, glimpsing at Charley in amusement, "No need to blow your jets, superstar, it was just a suggestion."

Charley added, "And a joke," as he gave Rhonda a sardonic side-eye. "So, should we get this over with? See if our Split River Phantom has anything useful to share?"

You patted Wally's chest to signal for your backpack which he handed over with a pout, disliking the idea of you hauling it around when you were so tired.

"You guys go do that. I'm going to steal Ajay and see if we can figure out what these symbols mean." You looked at Maddie, "If you guys find anything, let me know."

"How?" Maddie wondered. It wasn't as if she still had a means of communication in the afterlife; the decoy phone had been with Xavier when she'd been thrown from her body, and, as far as Wally knew, her real phone was in pieces. Even if she did have a phone...would it have worked? Wally had heard Dawn brag about her 'socials', but she wasn't actually capturing or uploading selfies...was she?

Before he could fall too far down that rabbit hole, he felt your hand grasp his, fingers twined, skin smooth under his thumb. You grinned at Maddie, "That's the best part," you brought your and Wally's joined hands up, "If Ajay and I don't get back before you're done, just manipulate the connection. Wally and I—"

"Don't know if it'll work!" He interrupted, worried that you might've forgotten that all those times he'd felt your emotions like his own or found you in crowded spaces had happened before last night.

It seemed you had because you blinked those darling Bambi eyes up at him, visibly uncertain. Wally saw the instant you realized your mistake, could see the gears turning as you backtracked and reassembled your speech. It didn't take long, maybe a second or two, and then you picked up where you'd left off, saying, "—but it should make it so he can find me."

Rhonda twirled her lollipop, whistled in surprise, "Magic is in.sane."

"It's not magic," You stated mildly, "It's connectedness. I promise there is a difference." You listed into Wally's side, turned your head to hide a yawn, and then seemed to try to shake yourself awake.

In response, Wally, cupped the back of your head and kissed your hair, rubbing his hand up and down your arm while holding you closer. "You gonna be okay?" He asked, concerned that you might not be able to stay upright much longer.

"I'll be fine," You said, however, the assurance you'd meant to offer was dimmed by another yawn you couldn't suppress.

It was then that Ajay appeared. He held the door to the theater open for Charley, Rhonda, and Maddie who waved their see-you-laters to you. Wally released you in measured degrees, careful and considerate, so you wouldn't fall into the space he left behind.

"I'm coming to find you as soon as we get something, okay, baby?"

You nodded, a forced smile on your face that made Wally want to carry you home and tuck you into your bed. Innocently. Innocently. But he couldn't help himself, dipping in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss that still somehow made his breath catch and his heart pound and his belly coil tight with desire.

"Okay, we get it, you're hot for each other, can we go now?" Ajay's voice cut through the muggy atmosphere that now permeated between you and Wally, exasperation pitched shrill as a school bell.

Wally untangled himself from you, hated having to do it, but understood that it needed to be done in order for both you and him to focus on what was important. That was finding clues or proof that Mr. Anderson was involved in Maddie's circumstances and pointing the police away from Simon. Right. Wally was an independent, capable guy who could do what it took to help. He just didn't want to do it without you plastered to him in some way.

"That face is exactly why you two can't be around each other right now." Ajay stated flatly, all but shoving Wally aside and ushering you back down the hall.

With a chuckle, Wally called after you, "I'll see you later, baby!"

"If either of you say 'I'll miss you', I'm boycotting this relationship until I can cross over." Ajay declared, not allowing you to stop and respond.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier sat behind the wheel of his truck, nervous, jittery; inching toward full-blown paranoia after having stopped at your house to pick you up. He'd received your message earlier, the one that had gently told him to stay home and sleep in since you weren't going to crusade after evidence against Mr. Anderson until a more appropriate hour.

But he hadn't been able to get back to sleep, had instead sat in bed contemplating how fucked up everything would inevitably get. And he was scared. Your newfound friendship with Simon made Xavier's veins clog with cold, slimy fear. He had no idea if Maddie had read the message he'd accidentally sent her ("The coast is clear, I'm alone. Wanna see you, babe, so hurry up."). Had no idea if she'd told Simon about Xavier and Claire. Simon hadn't outright accused Xavier of cheating on Maddie—not to Xavier's face, anyway—but, if Simon did know, it was only a matter of time before it came up and Xavier lost you forever.

Fueled by anxiety and desperation, Xavier had dressed and left the house in a flurry, drove over and at the speed limit in frenzied intervals as he'd forgotten and remembered it by turns. He'd arrived at your place faster than ever before only to discover that, according to Abigail, you'd left about forty-five minutes earlier. Granted, you hadn't explicitly said you'd want to spend the morning by yourself at home, but Xavier couldn't shake the feeling that something was utterly and profoundly wrong.

Why go to the school alone? Why leave him out of it? An agitated growl ruptured from his throat as he smacked the steering wheel, tears springing to his eyes unbidden. He pulled in huge gulps of air to stop himself from tipping into a panicked breakdown, begged the universe or God or whatever was out there that he was overthinking it, that you weren't slipping away from him and everything was okay, it was all going to be okay.

Except it wasn't okay. He'd fucked up and fucked around and made you participate by sending texts about band practices that'd never been scheduled, lies about how you'd needed help around the house and Xavier was family so he'd been obligated to assist. Jesus Christ, what had he done? He couldn't breathe, a balloon in his chest that expanded the closer he got to the school. When he pulled in and saw your mother's car, he was already one foot into a mental crisis.

He parked beside your mother's car and sat for a moment, filtering through a litany of excuses and reasons and apologies to retch at your feet in libation. Xavier couldn't. lose. you. Not you. The only person left in his life who fucking mattered. Hurt and anger and grief and hopelessness funneled into him, a tornado of self-deprecation howling insults that ricocheted inside his skull, the torment building and building and—

"FUCK." He belted, smashing the steering wheel over and over again until his body collapsed forward and he heaved a thick, wet sob.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

The other vertices in the barrier projected outward from symbols that varied slightly from the first you'd found. Two were etched in stone, one in a tree planted on the same alignment as the other, and the last had been burned so thoroughly into the dirt that you couldn't dig under it or dig it up.

"Can we call it magic now?" Ajay folded his arms and thinned his lips in a dour line as he watched you dog-dig at the dirt from a new angle. "Because this feels like magic."

You huffed and let yourself fall back on your bum, mopping the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of your sweater. "I mean, it's harnessed energy," you countered, still reluctant to call it something so fantastical when you had dirt caked under your fingernails and math class in twenty minutes. Those mundane, ultra-ordinary truths made it difficult to reconcile the existence of something Harry Potter fought a war with.

Ajay wasn't having it, "Girl, just say it. It's magic."

A squawky noise of denial later and you snapped a picture of the symbol on your phone, finally standing and returning to your backpack which you'd left at Ajay's feet. You dug out the notebook you'd used to scribble down the Futhark alphabet last night before tiptoeing back into Aiden's room and compared the symbol in the dirt to the runes on the page.

"It's like the others," You observed, "It has all the binding elements, except this one also has an extra line here..." You indicated, chewed your lip in thought, frustrated when nothing jumped out at you. Whoever had created these symbols and performed the ritual that accompanied them had either not known anything about the Futhark runes or they'd known too much. Which meant that you had no way of decoding the bastardized symbols by yourself. At least, not without major effort.

"An extra line?" Ajay echoed, "To make us extra trapped?"

You slanted him an unimpressed look, "No, Sassy McQueen...but also kind of yes."

Ajay flashed a victorious grin then crouched to look over your shoulder at your notebook. "Why would someone want to trap ghosts here?"

"Maybe they didn't." You considered as you brainstormed aloud, "Maybe they wanted to trap something and didn't realize the effect their spell—"

"Which is magic."

"—Nghyah," You declined and then continued, "The effect their spell would have on the different realms within the parcel they created."

"I know English isn't my first language, but I can tell that wouldn't make sense to anyone."

You rolled your eyes, clapping your notebook closed and filing it away in your backpack. "Think of the spell like a box. Whoever cast it brought that box down on this specific location, trapping everything in this location in it. But it only affects things outside of the physical world because it's not a physical box."

"...Have you ever seen the Witches of Eastwick?"

"Have you?"

You straightened, bowing your back to loosen the stiffness that had collected in your spine. Ajay took responsibility of your backpack and together you and he walked back toward the school.

After a short silence, Ajay spoke, "You know, Wally mentioned a cult that used to practice around here. He's really into that spooky-ooky, creepy shit." He emphasized with spirit fingers.

You stopped and stared after Ajay, eyes round and mouth ajar, "Wally? Golden retriever, football bro, Wally?"

Ajay turned to walk backward, smiling, "Oh yeah. He was into it before he died, too. A real savant of the deranged history of Split River." He pondered you for a moment and then muttered, "You know you two are allowed to talk when you're alone, right?"

Kissing your teeth, you resumed your stride, waving Ajay off, "In our defense, we haven't actually had a lot of time to be alone since we started talking."

Ajay snorted, but merrily settled his pace to match yours, his gait slower and longer, "He was alive during the rise of the Satanic Panic. If I'm remembering right, he told me about a cult called the Something-Something of Dagda."

"Very helpful."

"They were established before Milwaukee was founded and then faded out of history for awhile."

You sighed drearily, having heard similar tales through the family grapevine as well as your own special-interest research, "Let me guess, the Something-Something of Dagda made a comeback in the '20s when it was fashionable to be associated with the occult?"

Ajay nodded, "I think that's what Wally said. Apparently, they crawled back into the shadows, never to be heard from again, just after the Second World War."

"Typical," You chuckled, shaking your head, "You join a resurrectionist cult and then leave when—"

"How do you know it was resurrectionist?"

"I'm assuming." You confessed, "Dagda is a Celtic god whose staff can resurrect or kill whoever he clubs with it." When Ajay acknowledged your answer with a low oh, you expanded on your previous point, "I guess the members didn't like that their sons didn't all come home in one piece." To put it crudely. Unfortunately, that was the reality of many cults borne from the spiritualism boom in the 1920s. People either got bored or got bitter when their prophet couldn't stand and deliver in the face of a catastrophic global event.

You and Ajay entered the theater from the side door to avoid the students who began to flood the halls as the morning trundled toward the first bell. You found Maddie rising like the second coming out of the center of the stage, followed closely by Wally and then Rhonda, Charley, and lastly, Mina who turned and closed the trap door behind her.

"You find anything?" You inquired as Wally neared you, eagerness writ all over his features.

"Yeah!" Wally grinned, planting himself in front of you to band his arms around your waist, "You?"

"The symbols are definitely based on the Futhark alphabet and they're all designed to keep energies in." You said, snuggling into his front, happy to let him take your weight. He shifted you around so you and he could walk toward the stage, everyone gathered around a spot at the end of the center aisle. Rhonda and Charley sat on the edge of the stage, Ajay joined Mina who leaned beside Charley's legs, and Maddie stood with her back to the door, facing everyone.

As soon as you were within reach, she held out a piece of paper, informing you that, "It's a receipt for new band uniforms signed by Mr. Anderson." You scanned the paper, trying to absorb where it fit in the puzzle, but your brain was rapidly losing steam. Seeming to read your fatigue, Maddie interpreted it on your behalf, "I think he's been stealing money from Booster Club. He's got a whole operation under the stage to sew new patches onto old band uniforms."

All you could think to respond with was, "Holy shit."

"It doesn't prove he had anything to do with what happened to me," Maddie went on, "But I think it'll help Simon."

"Maddie this is awesome." You smiled encouragingly and shambled forward to hug her. With your arm still around her shoulders, you and she looked over the receipt again, particularly the cash amount at the bottom, "Is that how much you figure was in the closet?"

"I'd say it for sure is." She answered, her gaze turning a trepidatious sort of hopeful, "It's Friday, so there's a staff meeting tonight. If we give this to Simon, he can prove that Mr. Anderson is guilty of something and then we can try to figure out where my body is. Together."

"Together." You repeated with a grin because, God dammit, finally, you felt like progress was being made. While not the kind of progress you'd hoped for, it was something, and now that you knew Simon could see Maddie, you didn't have to swerve around landmines in conversation to hide your abilities; you could let him in instead.

It was one step closer to bringing Maddie home.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier hated himself more than he had before his breakdown, having succumbed to the siren call of his vape in the dissociative aftermath. He skulked into the school, shoulders up and hands stuffed in his pockets in an effort to make himself invisible. He wasn't going to his first class, wasn't entirely aware of where he was going, but he followed his feet nonetheless. Since the blissful first hit, his mind had quieted some, though his nerves were still ragged, eyes puffy and bloodshot, hair rumpled, a scab on his lip where he'd bitten it too hard to redirect the emotional pain he'd inflicted on himself.

He was distantly surprised to find himself standing in front of the theater when he eventually lifted his gaze from the ground. Without giving it too much thought, he reached out and opened the door, stepping into the shadowy space beyond. For a moment, a cotton-candy static fuzzed across his brain and made it hard to process whether or not what his eyes saw was real.

It couldn't be, could it?

At the end of the center aisle, you stood, body wilted from exhaustion. Around you were incoherent silhouettes that phased in and out of focus, nothing substantial to them, just distorted shadows that seemed out of place against the direction of what muted light filtered into the theater. What made his breath catch and the balloon in his chest swell bigger wasn't you, standing in the dark, or the uncanny shadows, it was—

"Maddie," He croaked, voice reedy and tight, "You came back."

The fuzziness in his head was instantly replaced by fear when his gaze slid to you, an expression on your face—wide eyes, parted lips, furrowed brows—that Xavier readily interpreted as betrayal. The darkness crowded against him, the rampage of wailing curses picked up within him again, screaming at him for how worthless and stupid and vile he was to do what he'd done.

"I-I'm so sorry," He choked out, pushing the words past the balloon that had expanded from his chest into his throat. Maddie's expression didn't change, something akin to alarm or hate or defeat or all three, he didn't know because his vision was beginning to cloud. "I'm so, so sorry." And then he stumbled sideways, falling into one of the empty seats, curling himself into a ball as if he could make himself disappear. Everything would be better, so much better, if he could just...stop being.

Xavier didn't realize he was crying until he felt your hands on him, pushing his arms away from his head, forcing him to kneel on the ground with you.

"Zav? What's happening? Are you okay? Zav!"

Your words sounded spoken through water and he couldn't get his head above the surface, couldn't breathe, couldn't answer, his body wracked violently with stinging sobs as he kept trying to apologize. He grappled at your back, pinned you against him, a buoy to keep him afloat as the waves crashed over him and threatened to pull him down into the cavernous abyss below.

"I'm sorry, please, don't leave me, I'm so sorry," He begged you, but couldn't hear himself, so he repeated them louder and louder until his throat scraped.

This is the moment, a facsimile of Maddie's voice told him, this is the moment you lose everyone.

And then another voice, unfamiliar, louder than Xavier's, louder than Maddie's, began to roar:

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY-THREE

note: i am of the belief that Mr. South is spooky in his own right and doesn't need Reader to expose him to the supernatural. agree with me or not, his ominous words to Simon at the beginning of the season set me on a path that i can't ignore 🤭

i really hope you guys are okay with how i'm reworking this. i know i gave away a pretty major spoiler, and i regret that so much because i dearly want you all to enjoy this, but it had to be done. otherwise i was more than likely going to throw in the towel. rest assured, there is SO MUCH more to unfold.

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: y'all know, it ain't a thing around here anymore due to the overuse of ritual magic, some demon-summoning, and an unfortunate sacrifice that resulted in more technical issues than tumblr could handle 🔮🗡️ if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS. we have fun here (•¯ ∀ ¯•)

[razorblade180]

Union

In the midst of going over blueprints for their future home, Jaune’s concentration gets interrupted by flowing petals. He cracks a smile before turning around to see Ruby completely obscured by her cloak.

Jaune:Have you come for my soul?

Ruby:Might as well. Already have your heart.

Jaune:Heh, then I kindly ask for you wait. Your payment will be paid in full down the aisle.

Ruby:How stingy. I’ve already given you both of mine; and a little extra~

Jaune:*red* How was work, you gremlin?

Ruby:Patrol duty was fine. Starting to think crooks know my schedule.

Jaune:Or you threw most in jail.

Ruby:Organized crime calls for chaotic heroism. Anywho, house plans going well?

Jaune:More or less. If all goes well then we’ll be living outside Vacou before our anniversary.

Ruby:Always thinking ahead. Meanwhile I’m struggling with awesome vows.

Jaune:You brought a world together. I’m sure you’ll think of something.

Ruby:Feelings are a little harder than a battle cry or call to arms. Speaking of feelings, I have a little something for you.

Jaune:*looks at cloak* Is that so~

Ruby:*blushes* It’s not what you think! Not this time. This gift is way better!

Jaune:I don’t know Rubes. Last gift that started like this was pretty amazing. *smiles*

Ruby:Just close your eyes and hold your hands out!

The knight chuckles as he does what he’s told. Immediately something weighted and cool to the touch lands in hands. Jaune opens his eyes and stars at a white scabbard. Somehow, this took him by surprise. It had his symbol in the middle and was surrounded by red thorns.

The grip of the hilt was this dark blue with a spiral of fierce red that went up and outlined the golden hand guard that was modeled in the shape of his symbol. He pulled out the gift from the scabbard to reveal cold, shining white steel that had its double edge and tip run red like hilt. If Jaune was being honest, he’s never seen a sword look more like a work of fantasy. Ruby stood right in front of him and put her left hand in the hilt, showing that his symbol had subtle thorn and rose engravings that matched her gold and red on her engagement ring.

The accomplished and proud Huntress then took a step back and started twiddling her thumbs while swaying, finding it hard to meet Jaune’s gaze; so she pulled her hood over her head. At this point it probably matched her face.

Ruby Rose:So uh yeah, that’s a Ruby Rose Original.

Jaune:You made this!?

Ruby:*nods* I’ll be honest. I spent so long shopping for wedding bands with Weiss helping. I’m still definitely getting one! But none of them really… felt like they were saying how I feel. There’s not a moment I want you feel like you’re fighting alone; even when we’re far apart. With this, I’m always by your side ready to help. The scabbard is a shield too but if I’m being honest I’m still a rookie when it comes to that kind of smithing. Consider this my own form of engagement to you.

Jaune:Ruby this is…I don’t even know what to say.

Ruby:*trembly* I uh..it’s fine if you treat this as a ceremonial blade too. After all…there’s history in Crocea Mors and I don’t want to step on that or make you feel like you have to stop wielding it because of m-

Two hands gentle hands pull back her hood and reveal teary, anxious eyes. Honestly, Ruby felt so ridiculous right now. All this effort into a heart felt token of affection and yet anxiety gripped her mind on how he’d take the jester. His thumbs run across her cheeks to catch a few stray tears.

Jaune:Hey, talk to me. What’s with the tears? This is an amazing.

Ruby:I just…Crocea Mors is its own vow. It has been for years and I know I shouldn’t be feeling guilty or nervous but I do. Gods, it’s so dumb hehe. Pyrrha would totally give me an earful for being so-

Jaune:Thoughtful? *smiles*

Ruby:..Heh, yeah. Yeah she would.

Jaune:Well, I don’t know if your beautiful brain and smithing skills have noticed, but you’ve really gotten good at knowing my style.

He briefly lets go of her and grabs his sword along with the new gift. Jaune pulls out both and puts them against one another. Yeah the hilt is different but it’s wide enough to work. Without hesitation, Jaune took the scabbard of Crocea Mors and slid it on the new sword easily; right down to the satisfying click in place that took Ruby by surprise.

Jaune:If you really feel guilty, then I can do this! Not gonna lie, I’d feel like shit getting that scabbard dirty in the future. It’s my first Ruby Rose original! Also gives you time to hyper fixate on shield crafting. As for the blade, I know this bad boy will keep me safe and sou-

Once again, petals flowed. Each one danced around him while the rose itself pressed her lips against his with gratitude and overflowing joy that dispelled fears like magic.

Ruby:Jaune Arc, you truly are my fairytale ending. My happily ever after.

Jaune:Hehe, And you said your vows would be hard? C’mere.

He pulled his loving fiancée into a deeper kiss before matching her smile. She was right. This present was the best.

Jaune:Does this engagement sword have a name?

Ruby:The deepest part of my soul wants to call it Bloody Moon but that doesn’t inspire luck as wedding gift.

Jaune:I kinda like what you said a few moments ago.

Ruby:Oh, so Ever After?

Jaune: Tale’s End

Ruby:That’s so- damn I’m marrying the right person. That’s such I good name! When our house is done I think my first order of business is mounting the scabbard with Crocea Mors somewhere nice and proud. Gonna need your height though.

Jaune:Naturally. And who knows. Maybe it’ll protect the both of us in a new way someday?

xxxxxxx

Several years later

Jaune:Alright squirt, ready for your first real sword sparring!?

A foolish question for a young girl waiting to dives out the front door and slide across a sand dune into a wide battle stance, her grin in full bloom with Crocea Mor ready to aid her first step towards greatness.

Carmine:Born ready!

Ruby:Do your best! Show him who’s boss!

Carmine:Ha! With this by my side, I might as well be invincible.

[professorsnape394]

Day 4: "Me or Her?"

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating:😠🥰

Prompt: Torn

Summary: Severus must chose between his old life and his new life, or risk losing those closest to him.

A/N: Can't resist a good angsty moment. Writing this broke me a little bit in the best possible way. My heart was aching.

Warnings: alcohol.

Word Count: 2184

Credits to Gif Creator

Halloween had always been a difficult day for Severus. While the rest of the world gathered their friends to dress up in ridiculous costumes and gallivant around from door to door, Severus opted to stay at home, mourning the loss of his first love and childhood best friend.

He remembered that night like it was yesterday. It was the height of the First Wizarding War; The Dark Lord had learned of the prophecy and was setting out to murder any new parents with a son born at the end of July. Severus had begged Voldemort not to hurt her. Dumbledore had promised to keep her safe. At that point Lily Evans was the only person in his life who had ever saw the good in him. He needed her to be kept alive.

As it turned out neither wizard kept their promise to their most loyal subject, and Lily Potter was murdered on the 31st of October 1981 Severus was the one to find her; lying lifeless on the floor of her son’s nursery. Her son, who infuriatingly had survived the Unforgivable Curse that was meant to end his life, remained unharmed and wailing in his crib. Lily had not been so fortunate.

Snape fell to his knees beside her limp body, cradling her in his arms. Sobbing openly for the loss of his best friend.

Halloween marked this occasion every year serving as a cruel reminder of everything he had lost that day. So instead of celebrating like everyone else, he chose to drink.

The potions master kept an old photograph of himself and the young witch hidden away in the drawers of his desk. It depicted a moving image of the two of them side by side as young teens, posing and giggling hysterically at the camera. It was his tradition to set the picture on his desk once a year and drink himself numb on a bottle of Firewhiskey.

This year he had thought would be no different. The picture lay flat on his desktop, the uncorked bottle of alcohol stood beside it. Yet, he hesitated.

Without warning his office door swung open, revealing a stunning young witch dressed in a deep red velvet gown with flared sleeves stretching almost to the floor.

“Are you nearly ready honey, if we don’t leave now we’ll be late the party.” Her temporary vampire teeth peaked out through her blood red lips.

While his enchantingly beautiful wife was hard to resist looking at as she relaxed against the doorframe, a party on this night just felt wrong.

“I’m not coming.” He muttered, his hand automatically reaching for the bottle.

“But you promised…” She whispered, the grin dropping from her face.

“I’ve changed my mind, I think I’d prefer to be alone this evening.”

The hurt on his wife’s face could not be clearer; this wasn’t the first time he had let her down at the last minute.

“It’s time to move on Severus.” She removed her fake teeth, not wanting her next words to be slurred.  “If you always insist on living in the past, those here in the present will get tired of waiting on you.”

While she had always been sympathetic to her husband’s emotions, she couldn’t help but feel rejected by him. That if Lily had somehow survived that night, she would be the one standing in her place instead.

Severus stared down at the old photograph, not daring to meet his wife’s watering eyes.

“Answer me this, Severus, because I’m only going to ask it once. If she were here. If it was me or her. Who would you choose?”

The question shouldn’t have come as a shock to the man, he had always suspected it had been on his wife’s mind. But hearing it out loud came as a blow to his chest. He knew the answer but it would hurt him deeply to say it aloud. So instead, he loosened the cap of his whiskey, poured himself a large glass and drank until only a few droplets remained.

A frustrated sigh filled the room.

“I’ll be back around 11. If your still conscious enough, feel free to join me in bed.” She snapped, slamming the door behind her.

Severus buried his head in his hands. Of course, he knew his ritual was unhealthy, and now that he was married it was well past time that he stopped it. But still, he worried that by giving up this day that he dedicated to his young love, he was somehow letting her down yet again. That it was his fault she died and by letting this routine go, she was somehow dying all over again. He worried that his memory of her might be forgotten if he didn’t spend at least one day a year wallowing in his grief for her.

He drained a second glass of whiskey.

Snape had fucked up big this time, and now his worry was he was at risk of losing his wife, the only woman who had ever truly loved him back. 

Looking down the barrel of his third drink, Severus heard a faint knock on his office door.

“Come in.” He called out.

In bounded a girl no higher than his thigh, clad in shades of pink and purple tulle, paired with a set of translucent net wings and topped with a silver plastic tiara.

“Hi Daddy.” She beamed up at him.

“Hello sweetheart.” Severus picked the girl up by her armpits, placing her gently on his lap. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Eh, I’m a fairy princess, duh?” She mumbled, brandishing her pretend wand at him.

“Of course, you are.” He nodded in understanding. “And the most beautiful one at that.”

His daughter blushed appreciatively, but almost immediately fell into a look of disappointment.

“Mummy said you’re not coming to the party again.”

“That’s true, darling. Daddy has to stay home this year.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid I have things I need to do at home. But you and Mummy can still go to the party and have so much fun.”

“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “Mummy is always sad when you don’t come places. I don’t think she knows how to have fun without you Daddy.” The girl pouted.

Severus heart dropped in his chest. He knew his wife was disappointed in him staying at home, but he had always assumed she was out enjoying her time with her friends while he stewed in his self-pity.

“Doesn’t she dance with anyone at the party? I’ve never known your mother to miss out on an opportunity to frolic around a dancefloor.”

His daughter shook her head again, dark ringlet curls swishing through the air.

“She doesn’t even take part in the costume contests, which is rubbish because I bet she’d win every time. She just sits at a table all night watching everyone else have fun, it so boooooring.”

Severus’ mouth turned dry and he struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe that the vibrant woman he had married would sit on the side-lines, dimming her light because of him. She was the life of the party, the one who went all in on everything she does, the one who makes everyone smile just by simply being in the same room them. She was everything he was not, which is why he loved her so much. He couldn’t bare the thought of her losing everything that makes her special because she always felt second best to a dead woman.

“Come with me.”

Severus took his daughter by her tiny warm hand and led her out of his office, but not before grabbing one last thing on his way out.

Yet another crack opened in his chest at the sight he stumbled upon in the kitchen.

His wife sat hunched over their dining table, sobbing into the palm on her hand, while tears poured down her cheeks, streaking her makeup as they fell.

“Y/N.” He croaked, laying his palm flat on her back.

The woman stiffened at this touch, quickly wiping away her tears and composing herself once more. She never let her husband see her cry.

“Oh, would you look at the time, sweetie.” Y/N gulped. “We better get going or else we’ll miss our chance to enter the costume contest, I really think we have a good chance at winning this year.” Her tone was unusually high pitched and alarmingly positive, but Severus could still hear the small sniffles she couldn’t repress every time she took a deep breath.

Y/N turned her back on Snape, rushing to the hooks by the door to grab her daughters coat and shoes.

“Y/N.” Severus repeated, his voice now full of pity.

“Like I said; we should be no later than 11, possibly earlier if this one has a sugar crash, but no need to wait up, I know you have more important things to do.” She didn’t dare even look in his direction.

Doing up the final button on her daughter’s coat, Y/N took her child by the hand and ushered her out the door.

“Y/N!” Snape said a final time, his tone firmer this time. “Look at me.” The woman froze on the spot but hesitated to face him.

Whispering in Delphine’s ear to go play, Y/N knew she couldn’t run from this conversation any longer.

Y/N forced her posture ramrod straight, tilted her chin up, took a long but shaky deep breath and finally turned to face her husband. It was obvious to him that she was trying her best to remain stoic, not wanting to show any weakness in front of the man who had none.

“You’ve made your choice, Severus. I can’t claim to understand it, but I’ll respect it. I know now that I’ll never be able to live up to the woman you first loved. I used to think that maybe if we were together long enough and I tried hard enough that I could be enough for you. I just wish I knew when I married you that would never be a possibility. I have always loved you, with every fibre of my being. I was foolish to think I deserved the same in return.”

“Y/N.”

“Stop saying my name. Please.” She squeezed her eyes shut tight, like it physically pained her to hear his voice. “Delphi deserves to have a stable home, so I’ll stay. But I can’t promise I’ll be the same woman I was. I’m sorry I couldn’t be enough for you.” A tear escaped Y/N’s eye, this time she let it fall. There was no need to be strong for a man who loved someone else.

“Shut up, you foolish woman.” Severus scorned.

“Excuse me? Don’t you dare talk to me like that I-”

“I made my choice a long time ago. I fell in love with an incredible woman. She was uncommonly kind, remarkably clever and surprisingly very funny. She had this ability to draw the attention of any crowd but somehow never made it about herself. Her smile could light up any room, turn any sad man happy. She would dance until her feet hurt, and then get up and do it again, even if it meant she had to go barefoot. She is singularly the most strikingly beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I made my choice a very long time ago, Y/N.”

“I appreciate your honesty but I don’t want to hear it.” Another tear fell.

Snape slowly stepped towards his wife. He could see her shoulders tensing with every tap of his heel on the hardwood floor.

Severus wipes away her stray tears with his thumb, cupping Y/N’s face between two hands.

“The woman I fell in love with is so stubbornly strong, she has spent the last five years hiding away her tears from me. And it hurts me deeply that she thinks she could ever be second best to anyone. The day I met you was the day I realised I had never truly felt love before.  There is no second place in my eyes, you have always been the only one for me.”

“But what about- “

“She was my friend.” He interjected. “And I failed her in the worst possible way. Just as I have done with you; by not showing you how much you mean to me, that changes today. I’m coming to the party.”

“You don’t have to.” She tried to escape his embrace.

“I want to.” He pulled her closer. “For you and for Delphine; the only two girls who have ever mattered to me.”

Reaching into his pocket, Severus revealed the old photograph of him as a teen. He felt his wife’s breath hitch at the sight of it. The source of all her anguish, one silly little picture he had obsessed over his whole life. He wouldn’t subject her to that anymore.

With one singular rip, Severus tore the portrait right through the centre, severing himself from the past.

“No more.” He promised. “I love you, Y/N. No one else.”

[cumikering]

Guitarist Gaz x reader

2k | fluff, teenage crush, late 90s You were in a band with Gaz

“You’re pulling my leg,” Kyle deadpanned.

“Really. My mum said I should be studying for my A-levels.” Jack hung his head as he tried to smear off the crusty mud from the side of his sole.

“But the gig is this weekend!”

“’m sorry, Gaz. She’s holding my guitar hostage. Said she’s going to sell it if I’m not home right away after classes.”

“You know we can’t do with only three members,” he said exasperatedly.

“There’s still a few days, I’ll help you find someone.”

After band practice sans Jack “mum-said-I-can’t” Wilshire, Kyle hopped onto the local forum with a grumble.

This was stupid. It would take a miracle for him to find a replacement for Jack in mere days. Regardless, he punched the words into his keyboard.

Sixth Form alt band looking for a stand-in guitarist for a birthday gig this Saturday

Later that night, his PC pinged with a notification.

Hiya, I’m interested in the gig. Where do you practice? I can meet tomorrow to see if I’m a good fit.

He breathed a sigh of relief. There was still hope. He didn’t have to cancel and embarrass himself.

Sweet. Here’s my college. See ya at the bus stop at 2 mate

The next day after classes, Kyle and his two bandmates waited at the bus stop.

“Gaz, how do you know he’s not a no-show?” Tim sat on the bench, twirling his drumsticks.

With his foot, Owen toyed with the overgrown grass under the bus stop sign. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

“Come on, lads. We need him, yeah?” He turned to them, trying to cheer up his mates. ”Let’s just hope he’s decent.”

Across the street, a bus alighted with a screech and a loud hiss. A few seconds later, it departed, revealing you behind it. You wore your college’s uniform, hair lightly tousled from the weather, your gig bag on your back.

“It’s a she?” Owen straightened up.

“Well, I assumed-“

Tim stood up, slipping his drum sticks in his back pocket as he walked over with a smile.

“No,” Kyle stood in front of him, trying to bite down his smile. “She talked to me. I go.” He marched towards you, ignoring Owen’s ‘or we could wait for her to cross the street’.

“Kyle?”

“Hiya.” He smiled, the most charming one he could muster. “Thought you were a bloke.”

You cocked your brow. “I thought the handle was obvious.”

Was it? He was too focused on the fact that he got a candidate (the only one so far).

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, well let’s go meet the lads.”

You followed as he made his way towards his mates.

“This is Owen, our bassist.”  He pointed at the tall bloke with the blond buzzcut. “And this is Tim, our drummer.”

He nodded at you, his dark fringe bobbing in the air.

“And me, I’m the vocalist and lead guitarist. You’re going to be Jack’s stand-in as the rhythm guitarist. Is it okay if you play us something here? Apparently, we’re not allowed to bring non-students onto the campus.”

“Yeah, no worries.” You sat on the bench and took your guitar out. “Anything specific?”

“Nope, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

The familiar intro of Wonderwall wafted in the air. You were a little quiet at first but encouraged by the approving nods and smiles of the lads, you opened up. Kyle watched the way you strummed, fingers expertly dancing across the fretboard, chords held precisely. Your clean notes did the classic justice. They all sang the last verse together.

“Wow, that was real sweet.” Owen said.

“Watch out, Gaz, you might be the stand-in by the end of this.”

He gave Tim the side eye before smiling at you. “Should we start practicing today?”

Practice was at Tim’s the days leading up to the gig, as it always was. His spacious room was cosy and soundproof, plus his mum baked the best cookies.

How obvious was it that Kyle always wanted to sit next to you on the bus? Or let his mates walk ahead of the both of you, so he could have a little moment with you to chat?

But it was the next day that he only dared to make his move.

“It’s getting late. Would you like me to walk you home?”

You looked up as you zipped your gig bag close.

“I live closer to you than her and you never offer to walk me home,” Owen chided, making Tim cackle from the other end of the room.

He pretended not hear anything, his eyebrow rose instead as he rapidly lost his cool.

You stifled a laugh. “Okay,” you said.

Kyle beamed, flipping Owen the bird before he shut the door on his way out. He left his guitar because ‘we’ll be back tomorrow anyway’ and helped you carry yours instead.

“You hungry? That chippy is good.” He pointed at a busy shop on your way to the bus stop.

“I am, actually.” Your steps slowed.

After a bit of queuing, the both of you sat in the cramped corner of the shop.

You took small bites of your piping hot chips. “What are you doing after Sixth Form?”

“I’m enlisting in the army,” he said with pride.

You smiled. “Your parents must be so proud.”

“They are. I’ve always wanted to do this and I’m glad they’re supportive.”

“I wish you the very best, Kyle. I think you’d be a wonderful soldier.”

He beamed. “Thank you.”

The conversation continued to what you were going to study in uni, and how the both of you got into music. He told you all about his heroes and seeing how you lit up in recognition of the names made him gooey. You get me.

After the meal, you waited at the deserted bus stop, pedestrians passing occasionally.

“Can I play?” He gestured at your guitar.

You nodded and he took it out of the bag, skilfully picking the strings to Iris. You smiled in recognition of the song and couldn’t help singing along. Engrossed in the little concert, none of you registered the bus was approaching.

His hands slowed, and you turned behind you.

“Oh, need to go, need to go!” You laughed, grabbing the bag beside him, scrambling to the edge of the pavement.

He smiled behind you as you boarded. The bus had no empty seats left, and the both of you stood there facing each other as he held your guitar, resting it on his shoe.

You didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes, but he found it cute. You had a sweet smile and an even sweeter laugh. He appreciated your openness to spontaneity, loving the twinkle in your eye as you sang with him just a minute ago. You were a breath of fresh air.

The next day, Kyle offered to walk you home after dinner again. You let him, even had his hand brush against yours a few times. The next, since he finished his classes early, he asked if he could pick you up in front of your college.

He waited at the bus stop, head on a swivel, worried that he’d miss you among the sea of students. But you soon approached with your friends who giggled as they eyed him.

He smiled at the refreshing sight of you, hands pulled out of his pockets. “Hiya,” he breathed, barely glancing at your friends.

You stood in front of him as you chewed on your lip, smiling but not meeting his eyes. “Hi,” you mumbled.

One of the girls nudged you with a teasing smile before walking along.

“Oh, uh, see you on Monday, babes!” you called out to them.

“Good luck for your gig!” the blonde said.

“I hope I’m up to par for tomorrow,” you said to yourself.

“You are, trust me. We don’t need Jack anymore.”

You laughed.

“Here, let me just…” he grabbed the strap of your gig bag.

“You’re the sweetest, Kyle.”

He smiled, pulling the straps over his shoulders. I’m trying! “I got you this.” He pulled out a packet of gummy bears from his pocket.

“Thank you so much!” You tore the packet open, popping a bear into your mouth, before offering him some.

At the bus stop, he sat next to you just a little closer than a friend would.

“Oh, one of my girls let me borrow Jagged Little Pill for the weekend.” You grabbed your Discman from your bag, handing an earphone to him. “I wanted to listen to it with you.”

How did you not expect him to melt at that? When each of you had an earphone on, you hit play and he wouldn’t be mad if the bus never came. With you, this was the perfect afternoon.

He should have got more gummy bears.

You and the band played through the setlist flawlessly as the party went on. It was the most fun Kyle had had at a gig that he didn’t realise the hour was up. When Owen and Tim went off to grab food, without missing a beat, he strummed More than Words.

Kyle barely took his eyes off you as you sat across him with your guitar throughout the gig, a sweet smile on your face. If he kept playing, this would never have to end, right?

Your arms paused in the air as you took your guitar off before setting the strap back and smiling in recognition. You sat back down, your foot tapping to the gentle rhythm before joining him in singing. The crowd gathered and sang together, and you both couldn’t help dueting a few more mellow songs as Owen and Tim cheered on.

By the end of the night, Kyle was holding your hand. It was nice to not be insecure of his calloused fingers. Yours were too, like a shared secret. As you neared home, his arm grew stiff. Was this his last time walking you home?

“We don’t have anything else coming up, but you’re always welcome to swing by anytime.” He handed you your guitar. He insisted to help you with it even when he had his too. “We can just jam together.”

“What’s going to happen to Jack?”

“Like I said, we don’t need him anymore.”

You laughed. “Yeah? I should probably study for my A-Levels too.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “We can always meet at your college if you want. Or somewhere else. Wherever you want really.” I just want to keep seeing you.

You smiled. “I’d love that.”

Since then, he picked you up after classes almost every day. If not to jam at Tim’s, it was to study at your dining table. He caught the teasing looks your mum shot you that made you look away with a shy smile. He didn’t mean to, but his grades were better than ever, baffling his mates, including Jack.

Thinking of the distance that was to stretch between you was like looking up a mountain too tall to see its peak. It was irresponsible of him to ask for more as he was leaving for the army. With a heavy heart, he allowed himself to enjoy the last weeks he had with you, forced to be content with the fleeting touches and bashful gazes before they, eventually, fizzled out with time.

At the park, he played Lovefool, one of your favourites. You sat facing him, knees pulled to your chest wearing his hat he plopped down on you when you squinted at the sun earlier.

“Love me, love me, say that you love me…” He looked up from the fretboard to your pretty smile as you hummed along, hair swaying in the wind-

His strumming screeched to a stop as his heart lodged in his throat. “D- do…”

Bloody hell, Gaz, why are you stuttering like that!

You blinked. “You alright?”

“Doyouwanttobemine?”

Your smile brightened.

Oh, he was going to serenade you every chance he got, even when he was a thousand miles away from you. He hoped you didn’t mind.

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