#and i come back to... idk what to even call this

[joeyfranchise]

all tangled up in the moon

justin herbert x fem!reader

summary: you finally began feeling open to dating in your new home of sunny la, especially since your best friend didn’t love you back the way you loved him… unless he did? a telling double date begins unraveling feelings that you didn’t know were shared…

warnings: pining/mutual pining. expressions of feelings. a LOT of fluff. explicit sexual content, MDNI. 18+ only.

word count: 6.3k.

note: my first ever justin fic!! based on so many ideas from my bestie @joeyburrrow, also happy belated birthday btw 🫂 i’m sorry i didn’t get it posted yesterday! but, she and i have talked about so much of this and this fic truly is for her. ALSO— FOR THE PURPOSE OF THIS FIC ONLY— i made justin allergic to walnuts. idk if he is or not, but it’ll make sense when you get there. i hope you like this. love you all. 💗

the dating pool in los angeles was nothing short of horrible.

sure, there were tons of people, which meant tons of options… but that also lead to some problems. there was so much diversity around, which again, is great… but it often led to mismatched partners and having trouble finding someone with all of the same interests or morals or values as you.

that being said, while messing around on dating apps, you found yourself a date that ticked more of your boxes than anyone else had since you moved to the sunny city.

his name was damon, and he worked at a law firm that wasn’t too far from your own nine-to-five job. his profile said he was 6’2, in his pictures he displayed a beautiful smile, and his interests were similar enough to yours that you figured why not give it a chance?

when you swiped right he’d messaged you nearly immediately, which could’ve been a red flag, but he kept it sweet and professional. his personality shined through his messages and you found yourself genuinely laughing at some of his jokes, and that was always a good sign.

you ran into one little problem though. you didn’t really know anyone else in l.a. except for your best friend, therefore you didn’t have many people to trust. sure, you had coworkers and acquaintances in the office, but none of them were around you enough to be able to vet through suitors from your dating life to let you know who would work and who wouldn’t.

you were also afraid to go out with someone new alone, and you blamed that on being an introvert. you ultimately made the decision that either damon would have to be okay with your first date being a double date, or you just wouldn’t go. when damon agreed it was fine, you called justin worriedly - this was going to be the hard part.

he picked up after two rings.

“is this the krusty krab?” you asked teasingly, smiling as you heard him huff out a brief laugh. he lowered his voice before answering.

“no, this is patrick.”

“yeah, justin patrick,” you teased, “unless i called the wrong brother.” you chewed on your bottom lip as you heard him chuckle again.

“that’s my name! don’t wear it out.” he joked. you could practically see the dumb grin already etched across his face. you remained silent for a moment, the weight of the question weighing on you. when you didn’t respond, justin took the lead of the conversation again.

“hey, y/n? you okay? not that i mind you calling me, of course i don’t mind… but did you need something? is everything alright?” you appreciated his ability to talk you down in moments like this, it was like he could sense your nerves even from miles away, and over a phone call.

“i’m okay. but i have a tiny favor to ask. you know you’re my most favorite best friend in the wholeee world, right?” you laughed, trying to push past the anxiety of the question you needed to ask him. “i do. what’s the favor?”

“i have a date friday night and i’ve never met him before. i didn’t know anyone else to ask and.. i was hoping maybe you and chloe could come along? like a double date?”

justin and chloe had started seeing each other recently, and you liked her enough not to really worry about their relationship. sure, she was living your dream being with justin, but you practically knew he didn’t feel the same about you. while you were completely and utterly in love with him, he still saw you as his best friend, and you had learned to accept it.

when you first met chloe you knew she wasn’t his type, she was completely different from justin… but he seemed happy, and that’s all you ever wanted for him. she was excited to meet you too, and in the few times you’d seen her since she was always genuine and kind.

“i think we can make that work, i should be out of practice in time. i’ll let chloe know and then we can figure out where to go. there’s a new restaurant downtown she and i went to a few weeks ago, you’d love it. they have really good raspberry cheesecake!” he said.

“oooh my favorite!” you cheered, already daydreaming of the delicious confection.

“i know.” he agreed. you smiled on the other end of the line, the way he knew you from cover to cover made your heart ache. you only hoped damon - and if not him, then whoever was destined for you - could be such a wonderful lover to you. someone who truly cared to learn everything there was to know about you, just like you and justin did with each other, even if only as friends.

you and justin talked for a bit longer over menial things before you ended the call, bidding him a goodnight. you made sure to text damon about your plans, letting him know you’d get back to him about a time as soon as you could.

he was excited for your date, and also excited to meet justin. you learned damon was a big fan of sports, and even though he wasn’t a chargers fan, he still really liked justin and thought he was a great player. he didn’t believe you when you first told him justin was your best friend, you had to provide him with photo evidence. the whole ordeal made you laugh. after chatting briefly with damon you put your phone on your bedside table before rolling over and getting cozy under your blankets.

you went to bed with a smile on your face that night, excited for your date with damon and also excited for him to meet your best friend.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.���� .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

you sailed through the week on a high, and when friday night came you were still feeling ecstatic. you were still a little anxious about going out and meeting damon in person for the first time, but getting to know him through the week had helped you warm up a little and let your guard down.

you decided on wearing a simple black dress, classy yet not too-fancy. you curled your hair and applied a light layer of makeup before slipping on a pair of strappy black heels.

you planned on meeting justin and chloe at the restaurant at seven, giving everyone enough time to get ready and allowing justin to shower and freshen up after practice.

damon picked you up at six-thirty. he met you at your door with flowers which you graciously accepted, and you excused yourself to bring them inside and put them in water before locking up and going with damon to his car.

he opened your door for you and you slid in, buckling your seatbelt as you waited for him to get in and start the engine. it was a bit chilly out and you were grateful when damon turned up the heat before backing out of your driveway and heading to the restaurant.

you chatted with him on the drive and it was pretty pleasant, you were thankful that the conversation between you both flowed easily. you learned that his favorite football team was the los angeles rams, and you joked with him that he’d need to let you out of the car immediately because you wouldn’t stand for that nonsense.

he laughed heartily at your joke. he talked to you more about his job, you learned he was a paralegal and that he’d been in the profession for nearly four years. you told him about your experience working in human resources and you related over shared experiences.

when you arrived to the restaurant damon parked and came around to open your door, and you were quickly met by justin and chloe. damon and justin shook hands and introduced themselves to each other as you greeted chloe.

“i love your dress!” she smiled, you thanked her. “you look incredible too, chloe!”

she wore a light blue dress that came down mid-thigh and had long sleeves. she wore black heels as well, and you loved the glittery eyeshadow she had put on.

the four of you walked into the restaurant and justin spoke to the host about reservations he had so graciously called in - which you thanked him immensely for. the host led your party to a table toward the back of the restaurant and you all sat. damon made sure to pull out your chair, and justin did the same for chloe.

the waitress came by shortly after for your drink orders, you and justin both got water. chloe ordered a riesling and damon ordered a cabernet, which you found amusing. you didn’t say anything about it, though.

the waitress brought your drinks quickly and she also brought a basket of bread for the table, with little cups of cinnamon butter. you indulged in one as you listened to justin and damon begin chatting about football.

you and chloe began to chime in at times, and the atmosphere was nice. you and damon also engaged in your own quiet conversation every now and then, and you were starting to like it every time he’d flash you his award winning smile… until justin would smile at you from across the table. in those moments, you knew who your heart truly belonged to.

a few times during dinner the conversations would ebb off, or the input from chloe and damon would stop, leaving only you and justin talking to each other.

the waitress brought your food and you all began dining, while still chatting here and there about work and sports and things of that nature. the waitress came back around a bit later to take plates and your dessert orders. the men continued to talk while you and chloe ordered, with you asking for cheesecake and chloe ordering a fudgy brownie.

something damon said reminded justin of something he needed to tell you, and he turned his attention toward you quickly.

“y/n, i was meaning to tell you that my uncle had some students interested in trying to make a car run on vegetable oil.” you laughed at his statement before giving your input.

“so what, they want to install a second fuel tank i’m assuming? so the vehicle can run on diesel til it’s hot enough and then they’ll switch to the oil?” you ask. “yeah exactly. i thought it sounded pretty cool.” justin smiles. “sounds like a waste of time to me.” you say amusedly. justin tilts his head and gives you a questioning glance.

“it’s totally not a waste of time. if they can figure out how to do it, it’ll be pretty sick.” he disagrees. damon glances between you before chiming in. “i think it’d be pretty cool too!” he agrees with justin.

“do you know how many times they’d have to filter the oil before they could even use it? and they’d have to make sure to install a solenoid valve to switch between two fuel tanks. too much work.” you say, crossing your arms and looking back and forth between both men. chloe says nothing, you assume she has no idea what any of you are talking about.

you noticed damon checking the time on his phone before sliding it back into his pocket and rejoining your conversation, but mostly listening to you and justin bicker.

“it totally reminded me of that 70s show though, you know? when hyde says ‘there’s this car…. and it runs on water, man!’” justin laughs, doing a pretty decent impression of the character.

“i just feel like making modifications to your car so it could run off vegetable oil is a waste of time.” you say, leaning back slightly in your chair. justin’s girlfriend looks between the two of you with an odd look on her face, only breaking focus when she sees the waitress approaching again.

“here’s the double chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream,” she says, placing the plate in front of chloe, “and here are the slices of raspberry cheesecake.”

she places the plate in front of you and damon is quick to grab it, sliding his piece of cheesecake onto one of the extra serving plates. chloe picks her fork up excitedly, slicing into the brownie and taking a small bite. her eyes roll as she tastes it, the richness of the chocolate has to be delectable. you watch as she cuts another small bite, this time more toward the center of the brownie where you can see it has small pieces of walnut in it.

she reaches over to cup justin’s jaw, squeezing a bit to get him to open his mouth so she can feed it to him. you ignore the slightly jealous feeling bubbling in your stomach as she brings it closer to his mouth, but you can’t get your words out. justin looks at her with a puzzled expression. he hadn’t been paying attention to her or what she ordered, so he has no idea what she’s about to feed him.

as if on instinct, your hand shot across the table and closed around her wrist, stopping her from feeding him. “s-sorry.. uh, justin is allergic to walnuts.” you say, lowering your gaze so you don’t make eye contact with her. she lets go of his jaw and he shrugs sheepishly.

“sorry baby.” she tells him, eating the bite for herself. “it’s okay.” justin replies. his eyes find yours for a fleeting moment, nervous energy is shared between you. damon watches the entire ordeal silently, passing glances between the three of you as he eats his dessert.

you pick up your fork and take a bite too, and the tartness of the raspberry dances across your tongue in a pleasant way. justin was right with his recommendation, this restaurant truly is amazing. damon and justin begin conversing again, and you stay quiet as you eat, listening attentively.

chloe chimes in a few times, earning laughs from both men with her unintentional humor. you slide the last bite of cheesecake on your fork and bring it to your lips, ready to enjoy it, when suddenly your fork is plucked from your hand. you look up to find justin eating the last bite straight off of your fork. yours.

while you’re on a double date. with other people.

your gaze quickly flips from justin to chloe and then to damon as you try to gauge their expressions. damon doesn’t seem to notice or care as he continues talking about football, and justin nods along with what damon is saying as if this ordeal was the most normal thing that has ever happened.

sure, you and justin are close enough to eat off each others forks and sometimes even drink from the same cup or can, but the fact that he did it on a double date baffled you. neither of the men at the table seemed to be giving it a second thought, but when your gaze shifts to chloe you can tell she’s perturbed in some way. her eyes are slightly squinted as she looks you up and and down, and then her gaze shifts to justin as she does the same to him.

you continue to sit quietly at the table, listening to the men talk. chloe stays quiet, too. the tension between the two of you feels almost palpable.

you would never want to come between her and justin, even if you did have feelings for him throughout all these years.

the rest of the time spent in the restaurant went by in a blur. eventually damon and justin stopped talking, realizing that you and chloe hadn’t shared a word, and they mutually decided that dinner should be over.

damon and justin split the checks and pay before each of you stand from the table to leave. when you make it outside you suck in a deep breath of the fresh air, you’ve felt like you were suffocating for the last fifteen minutes. all of you say goodbye to each other before you get into damon’s car, and chloe into justin’s.

the drive back to your house is quiet. you’re anxious, your throat feels tight and you know your cheeks must be incredibly pink. damon hasn’t even glanced at you and you’re afraid to say a word because if you do you’ll start crying.

he finally pulls into your drive and parks the car before looking at you for the first time since you left the restaurant. you wring your hands together before looking back at him, expecting the worst.

“that was fun, justin is a really nice guy.” his voice is genuine as he speaks to you, but you’re prepared for where this is going. “he loves you, y/n.”

you look at him with bewilderment as he continues speaking. you want to say something, but he holds up a finger to tell you to wait. “before you start with the whole ‘he doesn’t feel that way about me’ spiel, he does. i saw how you looked at each other all night. he doesn’t look at her like that.”

tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes as he speaks, and you turn your gaze from his so he won’t see. “you love each other, y/n. it’s okay. i had fun, i’m glad i met you.” he says, reaching over the console to grab your hand. he gives it a gentle squeeze and you look back up at him as he smiles at you. “i would like to be your friend, if that’s okay.”

“yeah, we can stay friends, of course.” you tell him. he lets go of your hand and gets out of the car, circling around to get your door and walk you up the front steps. before you can walk up damon pulls you in for a hug, which you reluctantly accept.

“it was nice meeting and going out with you, y/n. don’t be a stranger!” he says, and then he lets you go and gets back into his car, driving off down the street.

you let yourself in the house and lock the door behind you before collapsing on the couch. you don’t have the energy to move, to take off your shoes, or to even be worried about your makeup.

you just sit there, and you cry. you cry for all the lost time, if it is true and he does love you. and if damon’s wrong, and you do take the time to tell justin how you feel and he rejects you… well, you should go ahead and cry for that too. you cry for the only boy you’ve ever loved.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

justin buckles his seatbelt and holds his foot down on the brake before backing out of his parking spot at the restaurant, ready to get home and into more comfortable clothing. chloe sits beside him silent, like she did for most of the dinner.

he spares a glance her way and notices her posture is rigid, her lips are pressed into a tight, thin line. justin reaches over to grasp her hand but she flinches away from his touch.

“are you okay?” he asks her, his tone concerned. “i’m okay. can you take me to my house, please?” she asks. her voice sounds small, she sounds upset.

“of course.” justin agrees. they hadn’t been dating long enough to make the steps to move in together, but chloe frequented his house often as long as he was home. he thought it was a bit strange that she wanted to go home, but he waited to question it.

when he pulled in her driveway and parked she was quick to jump out of the car and make her way inside. justin turned the car off and pocketed the keys before following chloe inside.

“um, is everything okay?” he asked, stepping into the living room. “no. we need to talk.” chloe said, sitting down on the couch. justin sat next to her and place a reassuring hand on her knee as he waited for her to speak.

“i think we should break up.”

justin is taken aback by her confession, but he doesn’t speak. he waits to hear her out. “i really like you, justin. and i think you like me. but you don’t love me. and you never will, because you love someone else.”

“what?” he asks, his tone incredulous. “you love y/n, justin. you know it, i know it, everyone on the planet knows it… except for her. i think you’re both idiots.” chloe smiles softly.

justin looks around the room nervously, waiting for chloe to speak again. “you’re both idiots because what you’ve been looking for has been in front of you the whole time. it was obvious you two should have been on a date. you both carried the conversation, you were doing silly impressions to make her laugh… you look at her like she’s your most prized possession, justin.”

he takes a deep breath before looking at chloe and finally speaking. “i’m sorry.” is all he’s able to mutter out.

“you don’t need to apologize. i’ll admit, i was upset at first. but on the drive i thought about it, and i just want you to be happy. and i figured someone needed to tell you that girl loves you, because if the two of you have been friends this long and you haven’t figured it out, i’m afraid you never will.” she laughs. “and god, i didn’t even know you were allergic to walnuts.”

justin laughs too before reaching over and pulling chloe into him for a hug. “thank you for telling me all that… and i am sorry. i really am.”

“it’s okay, justin. just get the girl, okay?” she says, shooing him out the door. he waves goodbye before walking off to his car and heading home.

when he arrives home he sits in the driveway pondering… did you really love him back? and if you have, how long? and what was he going to do?

he thinks of all the time he’s lost out on if it’s true, and you do love him back. he’d supressed the feelings for as long as he could remember because he never knew he had a chance - he never thought he’d be the one for you. and if he wasn’t he knew it’d break him, but all he wanted was your happiness.

all he knew right now was that he loved you, that you were the only girl he’d ever loved.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

you don’t talk to justin for a week.

you’re afraid to. usually, he’s the first person you run to about anything, but since the subject matter is him, you feel like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. you spend the entire week sad, crying into your coffee or whatever dinner you’ve chosen to eat after work (usually cereal), and watching lifetime movies that are guaranteed to make you feel worse - they make the longing in your chest burn.

justin finally texts you on friday night, and you’re afraid to open it. you let it sit unread for half an hour before your phone starts ringing on the end table. it’s justin, you know it is, but you’re afraid to answer. you pick up your phone slowly and slide your thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“hello?” you sniffle, picking up a tissue to wipe your nose. “hey y/n, you okay?” justin asks.

“yeah, lifetime movie, sorry. what’s up?”

“just wanted to see if you wanna come over and hangout? i haven’t heard from you all week, i miss you.” he says. you miss him too. but are you ready to see him after what happened?

against your better judgment, you agree to go over. after all, he is your best friend. if anyone can get you feeling better, it’s justin. you hang up the call and slide on your slippers before grabbing your keys and phone and heading over to his house.

you didn’t bother changing, you didn’t care what you looked like in front of him. he’d seen you sick as a dog before, he even held your hair when you puked a few times, so he could handle seeing you in an old ratty tshirt and sweatpants that were a few sizes too big.

there’s also no way he could ever judge you for having greasy hair.

you make the quick drive to his place and you almost panic and leave before calming yourself down and walking to the front door. it’s just justin. this is no big deal.

you knock twice but you know he already knows you’re there, and he swings the door open quickly before pulling you into a tight hug. physical affection is something you both enjoy, and you’ve missed him. you wrap your arms tightly around him and squeeze back.

justin laughs as he looks down at you. “sometimes i forget how small you are.”

“or maybe you’re sasquatch.” you say, giving him a shove. he lets go and steps aside so you can get in the door, and you waste no time in sliding your slippers off plopping down on his couch. you notice his house seems a little… different, but you can’t put your finger on it.

justin closes the door and makes his way over to you, acting like he’s going to sit on your lap. “don’t even think about it.” you tell him, bringing your legs up to your chest. he sits next to you and leans into your side.

“how was your week?” he asks you innocently. “it was horrible.” you reply. you share the most miniscule details with him when he tries pressing you further, because you’re too afraid to tell him what’s really wrong. justin listens intently either way, hoping to find something he can do to make you feel better.

“well how’s it been with damon?” he finally asks, and you freeze. justin moves so he can lay his head on your lap, and he straightens out your legs before doing so. your hand naturally finds its way into his hair, your nails raking along his scalp soothingly. he shudders.

“damon um… well. he didn’t wanna go on another date. it wasn’t because he didn’t like me, though. he just said… he could tell u didn’t like him.”

justin hums softly. “interesting.” he says.

“what’s interesting?” you ask him. “chloe broke up with me.”

“WHAT?” you shout, startling him a bit. “sorry… i mean, what? why? i thought you guys really liked each other?”

“well, she liked me a lot. and i liked her but… i don’t love her. she really helped me realize a lot of feelings i had that i’d been holding back.” he turns his head to look up at you and smiles and - oh. oh.

the look he’s giving you seems to be full of pure adoration, pure love. and you realize that he always looks at you like this.

tears start to form in your eyes again and justin sits up, this time pulling you into his lap. “you okay?” he asks, soothingly rubbing his hand over your back.

that’s why it seemed different - all her stuff was gone.

“i don’t know. what’s happening here?” you ask him, burying your face in his neck. “chloe helped me realize that i love you, y/n. i always knew it, deep down. but… i don’t know. i never really thought you felt the same.”

“damon said the same to me. that he could, um, tell we loved each other. are we just stupid?” you ask him, pulling away from his neck to look in his eyes.

“apparently two idiots in love.” he says. his hand finds the back of your hair and smooths over it softly before he pulls you into his neck again, crushing you in another hug.

“so where do we go from here?” you ask, enjoying his embrace. “i guess forward.” he jokes, poking at your sides. “together, of course, if you want that. as a couple.”

you can’t help the giddy feeling bubbling up inside you as he speaks. of course you want that, it’s all you’ve ever wanted. “i love you, justin.” you finally say, and being able to tell him to his face is like a dream come true. “i love you back.” he says softly. you meet his gaze once again and he looks nervous, but you aren’t sure why.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him sweetly. you softly touch his cheek, smoothing over it with your thumb. he doesn’t say another word, but he leans in and kisses you.

you feel dizzy, your heart is pounding incredibly hard against your chest. justin is over the moon too. your lips begin moving in sync, neither of you able to catch a decent breath as you devour each other hungrily. justin's hands find your waist and he pulls you into him further, and your arms circle around his neck.

he pulls away for a second before jumping right back in, awkwardly bumping his nose against yours. you both laugh before kissing again. this is truly what euphoria feels like. you don’t know how long you both sit there taking each other apart, whether it’s minutes, hours or days.

what matters is it’s happening. finally.

your hands trail down his biceps as he continues kissing you, leaving a trail from the corner of your mouth down to the exposed column of your throat. your breath hitches when his lips meet one of your most sensitive spots, right where your neck meets your shoulder. “you okay?” he says, sounding concerned.

“i’m nervous.” you whisper. his gaze is soft as he looks at you, half smile spreading across his face. “it’s okay,” he whispers back, “we don’t have to take this any further until you’re ready.”

you hug him again and kiss his cheek softly. “i want to. i’m just nervous.”

“there’s no reason to be afraid.” he assures you. “do you wanna…” he starts, cocking his head to the side and motioning toward the direction of his bedroom. you nod a simple yes.

he stands with you and leads you down the hall to his room, although you know very well where it is. you’ve spent countless nights here cuddled up with him.

he twists the knob slowly and pushes the door open before guiding you inside, and meeting your lips with his again. the kiss is soft and gentle, and he walks you back toward his bed without breaking contact. once you’ve reached the side of the bed he pulls away and reaches behind himself with one arm, grabbing his shirt and yanking it over his head in one swift motion.

uou hop up onto his bed and get cozy against the pillows as he crawls onto the bed too, leaning over you. you rake your nails over the planes of his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead. his fingertips find the hem of your sweater and his gaze meets yours, waiting for your approval. you nod, and he slides both hands under it before lifting it over your head.

you’re wearing a simple white bra, but justin is looking at you like you’ve just descended down from heaven. you know he won’t ask you to take it off so you let what little bit of confidence you have flowing through your veins take over, and you quickly reach behind you to unclasp it.

justin sucks in a deep breath at the sight of you. you’re easily the most breathtaking woman he’s ever seen in his life, you have been since he first laid eyes on you… but seeing you like this… he feels like he’s died and made it to the afterlife.

you don’t hide your gawking either, his toned body has always been something you’ve enjoyed staring at whether he noticed it or not. “you’re so beautiful,” justin tells you, leaning in to capture your lips again. as he crawls over your body you can feel his length through his sweatpants, it lays hard and heavy over your leg. you shudder at the thought of it.

justin’s hands slide up your torso and he caresses your breasts softly before tweaking both of your nipples with his thumbs and forefingers. you arch upward into him and your body is covered in gooseflesh as you await his touch again.

you’ve never felt such pleasure and satisfaction in your life, and he’s only barely started. you’re sure that you’ve soaked through your panties and sweatpants at this point. he continues to grab at your chest as he kisses you and you moan out his name softly, causing him to rut against your leg. he needs you just as much as you need him, you can tell.

“justin, i’m ready. i want you.” you tell him, breaking away from his kiss to look into his eyes. he smiles down at you and raises his eyebrow, making sure one more time. “i’m ready.” you promise him. his hands grab the waistband of your sweatpants before pulling them down your legs quickly, along with your panties.

he pulls his off next and your mouth falls open, gawking at the sight in front of you. sure… justin was 6’6, everything about him was big… but holy shit. he is huge.

he smiles at you nervously before reassuring you, “it’ll be okay, i won’t hurt you. i swear.” you almost think you could faint at how cute and sexy he his. you tell him you don’t need any prep but he won’t allow it, and he uses the pad of his thumb to circle your clit quickly as he enters two fingers into you to work you open.

after a few minutes you’re ready, you can’t take anymore and you’re practically begging him to fuck you. he blushes at the sound of your moans, but his chest fills with pride knowing he’s making you feel so good. he pulls his fingers from your soaking heat slowly before wrapping his hand around his cock and giving it a few strokes. you let him situate your body how he needs to and he ends up with your ankles right at his shoulders as he prepares to push into you.

he’s lucky you’re flexible. his lips find yours again as he pushes in and your thankful because his kisses swallow your gasps. he moves slowly, inch by inch until he’s fully seated, and he waits a few minutes before moving so he doesn’t hurt you. when he finally pulls out and pushes back in, he moans loudly at how amazing you feel around him. you moan too, you’ve never felt so full in your life - and you’ve never felt so fulfilled either.

he moves to kiss you again and bumps his nose against yours again sweetly as his hands find yours and he tangles your fingers together. his movements are calculated, slow and methodical as he takes you apart, and unravels you in the very best way.

the room is filled with soft moans and labored breaths and the sounds of you kissing each other anywhere your lips can find. it doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak and tears prick at your eyes when you do. this is all you’ve ever wanted, and it’s beautiful, it’s magical. justin feels the same.

you warn him that you’re close and he tells you it’s okay, you can let go for him. “cum for me, it’s okay. i love you, y/n.” and that’s all it takes. his admission of love knocks you straight over the edge and into the thrashing waters, your orgasm taking over your whole body. he cums soon after, his body enjoying the feeling of you squeezing him as he rides out his high.

when he pulls out of you he stand quickly, running off to his bathroom to grab a warm wet towel to clean you both up. he didn’t bother asking if you were on the pill, he already knows every aspect of your life anyway.

justin cleans all your sensitive areas with the warm rag before wiping himself off and sliding back into bed with you, pulling the covers over your bodies.

“that was amazing.” you admit.

“yeah it was. you know how long we could’ve been doing that?” he laughs, and you giggle too. “i love you.” you tell him. “i love you too, so much. can i tell you something stupidly embarrassing, though?” he asks, and you roll over to face him. “oh god, what justin?”

“remember after we graduated, right after you turned eighteen and we had that pool party?”

“yeah, i remember.” you say. it was one of your fondest memories, actually. “that little yellow bikini you wore… i just thought i should admit to you now that i thought about you in that so much when i was jerking it that i thought my dick would fall off.”

both of you erupt in laughter, the admission funny and embarrassing, although endearing too. “that’s okay, remember right before we went to college and you were teaching me how to drive but you kept getting frustrated and yelling at me? i thought that was the hottest i’d ever seen you.” you say. he pulls you into his chest and kisses you softly.

“you’re getting me all worked up again, baby,” he laughs, kissing at your cheek toward your ear. “looks like we’re gonna have to go for round two.”

- - -

taglist: @slimshiesty @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989

photos and dividers used are not mine, all cred to owners.

[ranpazz]

CHOKE ME BITE ME!!

cw ; sub!dazai, fem!reader, choking, p in v sex, unprotected sex (stay safe), slight degradation(she calls him a freak and a slut), not proofread

a/n ; no I didn't write this to distract from wicked games idk what ur talking abt.

Dazai hates pain. At least that's what he tells everyone, but you knew otherwise. Well, if the way he was writhing with your hand around his throat had anything to do with it.

“mmfph! Baby I– hngh– need more– c’mon, please-” he begged, bucking his hips up into your sweet cunt, desperate for more friction that you refused to offer. You clicked your tongue, applying more pressure to his throat, cutting off his oxygen.

“You're a freak, Osamu– getting off to this?” You questioned, emphasizing your point by wrapping your other hand around his pretty neck. His cock twitched against your cervix at the action, tossing his head back with a choked moan. “Yes– please– haah– I need more, please move–”

You'd be lying if you said that having a man like Dazai plead beneath you didn't flip a switch. A satisfied hum bubbled in the back of your throat as you raised your hips enough to his tip before slamming down on him.

“Aargh! Fuck! Don't– don't stop, please-” He cried, his jaw clenching from pleasure. You wish you had your phone to take a picture, he looked breathtaking. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, hair matted to his forehead, and your lipstick smeared all over his lips. Maybe another time.

“Don't you– fuck– dare cum ‘til I say so, y'damn slut.” You breathed, chasing your release as the coil in your tummy tightened. His hands were holding onto your hips for dear life, there will definitely be marks there tomorrow. You could feel his Adam's apple bob beneath your fingers, a reminder of your previous actions.

Dazai whined for another minute or so, his rambles coming to an end. He was trying not to give away the fact his orgasm was creeping up on him. You could have laughed if he wasn't rearranging your guts right now. However, he still needed too–

“Please, lemme cum– needa– fuuuck– cum inside you, baby–” How could you resist when he asked so nicely? You swallowed thickly as you grew closer to the edge, giving him a brief nod before sinking your teeth into his pale shoulder and grasping his neck tighter than before.

He planted his feet on the bed, thrusting up into you to meet your hips, tearing a moan from your throat. His length slid against your gooey walls, hitting your sweet spots with easy precision. "'samu–! 'm gonna cum– fuck!"

"F-fuck, feels s'good– y'er pussy– haah– feels s'good, so tight, shit!" He cried out, your back arching as his thumb found your clit and drew tight circles on the bud. Your back arched, a broken moan slipping past your lips. "C'mon, cum with me– hnngh– please-"

He always ended up getting his way. It wasn't even a minute later that he was filling your cunt with his hot load, his own orgasm triggering your own. "Osamu– haah fuck!" Your hands finally freed his throat and your jaw fell slack as you reached your release.

Black spots clouded your vision for a moment before you fell limp on his chest, panting heavily as the afterglow settled. His breathing could be heard over your own, a telltale of his need for oxygen. You glanced up at him, his cheeks red and eyes closed as he caught his breath.

"'samu, I didn't–" "No, you didn't go overboard, 'donna." He cut you off, his voice a bit hoarse from your precious endeavors. Those pretty brown eyes of his fluttered open, meeting yours with a soft yet rare look. "I promise."

You took the reassurance with a smile, however, you were suddenly flipped over by Dazai, a hungry look in his eyes. "Now, let's see how much power you have with me on top this time."

[chrisweetheart]

sturniolos ‘25 predictions ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚

warnings some of this was in my predictions too so i’m gonna share a couple of mine, don’t take this serious ! i know it’s probably all fake LMAO.

group predictions ౨ৎ

— one of them will have “beef” with an influencer, like making subtle sneaks at eachother not really beef.

— 9 million, this is pretty doable so not really a surprise if they do, they’ve done it before so.

— possibly a europe/uk tour, they didn’t do a ‘24 one so this year possibly ! and nick said if they do a tour again it will be in the uk.

— something to do with alahna or madi (them becoming friends again, getting exposed, i have no fuckin clue) praying they come back i miss my girls.

— one of them will get caught drinking, not really surprising if they do i mean this is more aimed at chris he would defo get caught doing this shit LMFAO

— do something crazy controversial and it becomes like a big thing and people who aren’t even fans of them know about it. like how ksi did that song and loads of people obviously knew about it even if they weren’t fans of him.

— they get turned into a meme, i would laugh tbh, like a BIG meme like that feeling when knee surgery is tomorrow, or like an audio of theirs gets turned into a popular tiktok audio.

— fan will accuse them of something, like call them out i’m not sure what on.

matt predictions ౨ৎ

— matt will get a girlfriend, also wouldn’t be surprising i mean he’s a 21 year old, i hope he does tbh he needs some action.

— matt gets a cat, this probably wont happen since they go back and forth to la and boston so no one to look after it but it would be so cute pls.

— will get involved in a relationship scandal again, i mean who’s surprised it happens every 2 business days.

chris predictions ౨ৎ

— chris gets his first tattoo, this but then again i feel like he wants to be different so he wont.

— will feature on a lil skies song, who’s surprised.

— same with matt, he gets a girlfriend, also he needs this.

nick predictions ౨ৎ

— space camp sells skincare, i would buy instantly that lip balm is a life saver not even glazing.

— nick meets someone famous, like a singer, idk who.

— nick learns how to drive, this is a 100%

madison bonus ౨ৎ

— gets her well-deserved sabrina carpenter moment.

that’s all! once again dont take this seriously PLEASE, istg if i see this on sturnsnark reddit i’ll flip, i’m just being silly stop being over dramatic.

my predictions for the triplets next year(as someone who’s slightly pyschic….but don’t take it serious):

matt will get a girlfriend

i feel like chris will collab with someone that’s potentially controversial

madi will return

nick will get shipped with another youtuber after collabing

matt will become more himself on camera since the gift video

a fan will come forward and accuse them of something

they’ll finally film with the kalogeras but it won’t be anything how we imagined

for some reason i feel like a fight video will get leaked of one of them

chris will take a break from social media

i honestly feel like matt will cry on camera about something

nick becomes more quiet to not draw attention to anything

chris will be spotted at a party with a cup of alcohol

alahna will go live exposing them(thanks hivi for this)

[revelboo]

hi! idk if you are taking requests right now, but if you are, could i ask for sunder dealing with a human psychologist trying to help him? (maybe a joker and harleen quinzel dynamic?)

I’ll try. Title is Whipped Cream by Ludo

Whipped Cream

Sunder x Reader

• Chains slithering against the berth they’d bound him to, he halfheartedly tugs at them again even though he knows they aren’t budging. They never do. Head falling back, he grits his denta to keep from laughing. They’re right there. Just outside the door. All those lovely minds to play in and he can’t get at them. Starving and frustrated. How long has he been here alone? Times a bit difficult to gauge since they only come in to force feed him energon occasionally, wrapped up in protective gear to keep him out. Lunging suddenly against his bonds, he screams out his fury. And hears a soft cry in answer.

• Staggering, you slam into a wall, vision blurry with tears. Have no idea what just happened, but it felt like being shredded apart and crudely put back together. Falling to your knees and dry heaving, unable to breathe like your lungs can’t remember how before you shudder and gasp. Slumping over, you let the shaking rattle you to the bone as the pain needles through you. And you hear a low, guttural growl of noises. Whatever happened, wherever you are, you’re not alone.

• Straining to see, he’s stares at the small shape on the floor of his cell. An organic? Where had you come from? But then your fear and misery spark through his mind. Thrashing against his chains, hunger lashes him. And he reaches his thoughts for you, sinking in. Not Cybertronian, but there’s still memories to lose himself in. But as he pulls them to him, they come apart and just reform. Stilling as his lips part, he keeps reaching. Little sips of you that he can’t destroy. Why can’t he devour you? What are you? Swimming through your mind, learning you, he slowly smiles.

• “Poor, little love. So much pain.” Your head snaps up at that silken, dark voice. Mouth falling open as you spot the big, metal monster chained down. “Don’t fear.” And it, he, smiles at you, expression softening. Those pretty, blue optics snaring you as a sense of safety spills into you. “I can ease your suffering,” he croons, servos twitching. That voice is dark velvet stroking over you. Coaxing. Sliding up the wall, you stand. Wanting him to help you, to help him. “That’s right, love. Come to me. You know me.”

• Crooning as he plays with your thoughts, trying to twist them to him. Because he’s desperate to get his servos on you, mnemonic needles sliding out of his fingertips as he arches. So hungry. Just a taste, let him drown himself in your memories. And then you rock to a stop. Backing away, he feels your sudden fear. “What are you doing?” That soft, sweet voice surprising him as you retreat back to the far wall. You can’t feel him in you. No one ever does. “Get out of my head,” you gasp and he jolts when you manage to push him out. Shocked, he shivers in a mix of desperation and fascination. How are you resisting?

• “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.” That voice chimes through you, calling to you to come to him. Making you want to do whatever he wants. Covering your ears with your hands, you slide down to sit feeling weak and shaky. Can feel him in your head, spreading like poison and there’s a disjointed sense of hunger and desperation. His? Yours? You can’t tell. “Sunder. My name. I’m sorry, I’ve just been alone for so long.” That voice. Head lifting, he smiles at you and those optics are so deep you can get lost in them, hearing yourself whispering your own name to this monster.

[elikajinnie]

Shadowed Desires - S.J

P: Dead By Daylight Killer!Jake X Survivor!Reader (recommended age 17+)

Warnings: Murder, Obsession, Touchy & Needy Behaviour, Blood/Injury, touch starved jake lol.

Synopsis: A new killer is made of darkness—and now he has his eyes set on you, and he wants to swallow you whole, pulling you to him. After all, darkness always consumes what it wants, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. And soon, you’ll be lost to it.

a/n: finally done with this series :3 i kinda dont like this? idk.. maybe ill delete it.

heeseungs vers sunghoon vers jay vers

--

Ever since the Entity dragged you into its twisted realm, you’d never really had the time—or the chance—to initiate much of anything with the other survivors. There wasn’t room for hugs, no moments for cuddling, and certainly no stolen kisses. Not that you had any romantic connections with any of them, but even something as simple as touch felt like a forgotten luxury.

And the killers? That was out of the question. They were designed to hurt you, to hunt you, to bring pain and death for the Entity’s satisfaction. Over and over, you’d all return to the camp after each trial, alive and unscathed. Unharmed physically, sure, but it all felt meaningless. Same routines. Same outcomes. Same exhausting loop.

Time didn’t matter here. Physical affection didn’t matter. Your feelings? They mattered least of all. Everything was irrelevant in this place. The same cycle, over and over and over again.

It was tiring, to be honest—so quiet yet so endlessly exhausting.

The only reprieve you ever got from the monotony was when a new survivor or killer arrived. For a fleeting moment, it felt like something had shifted, like maybe this new presence could disrupt the cycle. But it never lasted.

The new survivor always followed the same pattern. At first, they’d be terrified, trembling and frantic, trying to grasp the horror of what they’d been thrown into. You’d try to comfort them, maybe offer some kind words, but even that felt hollow. In time, they’d come to understand—just like you had—that there was no escape. Their fear would dull into resignation, their hope smothered by the truth of the Entity’s realm.

As for the killers, they brought a brief curiosity. The camp would buzz with whispered speculations about their abilities, their quirks, their story. But after a few trials, it was always the same. They were there for one purpose: to hunt, to kill, to please the Entity. The only “excitement” they brought was in figuring out how their power worked, what perks they wielded, and how best to survive their hunt. Once that was done, they became just another part of the endless cycle.

Even the killers, as terrifying as they were, eventually became predictable. A face you’d recognize in the fog. A pattern of movement. A strategy you’d seen a hundred times before.

And so, the moments of change you’d cling to at first inevitably folded back into the same unending routine. Nothing really changed here. Not the faces, not the feelings, not the futility of it all. It was a crushing realization every time: no matter who arrived, no matter what was added, this place was always the same.

So you could never expect it to actually change. Change wasn’t something the Entity offered much of. It wasn’t what it thrived on. Yet, on that trial, something did.

It started out the same as always. You were sitting by the fire, exchanging a conversation with Nancy. Then the fog crept in, curling at the edges of your vision, and you were called into a trial. Business as usual. You didn’t expect anything different. Why would you?

But as soon as you dropped into the trial, you knew something was off.

The air was cold, biting at your skin like needles. The ground beneath your feet was hard and uneven made of ancient stone and disturbed earth. The faint sound of whispers filled the air, just on the edge of hearing, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. You turned, scanning your surroundings, and realized you were in a catacomb.

But this wasn’t the Plague’s temple catacombs, with their decaying walls and pools of disease. This was something… different.

The walls were lined with endless rows of forgotten graves, the cracked stone engraved with faded names you couldn’t read. Shadowy tendrils slithered along the edges of the halls, moving unnaturally, almost as if they were alive. You froze as one of them stretched toward you, curling in the air like it was reaching, calling.

Yeah, no, this wasn’t just a new map—it was something entirely foreign.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you began to move, navigating the labyrinthine hallways of the catacomb. The silence here wasn’t the usual quiet; it was alive, buzzing with whispers and the faint scraping of unseen movements. Every step you took echoed, the sound bouncing off the cracked walls around you.

You passed by what might have been burial chambers long ago, their occupants disturbed and forgotten. The floor was littered with debris—shattered stone, splintered wood, and dried remnants of things you didn’t want to name. You kept moving, your eyes darting for the faintest glimmer of light or safety, but all you found were more hallways, more graves, and the ever-present shadows, shifting as if they were watching your every move.

Something about this place felt wrong, even by the Entity’s standards.

You eventually found your way out of the endless labyrinth of tunnels and into a larger chamber. The ceiling loomed high above you, shrouded in darkness so thick it seemed to swallow the dim, flickering light of the torches lining the walls. At the center of the room was an altar, its surface cracked and weathered with age. Surrounding it were pools of… shadows?

They didn’t look like water or any other liquid you’d seen before. They rippled and shifted, alive with an unnatural energy that made your skin crawl. Occasionally, tendrils of darkness stretched out from the pools, writhing as if searching for something.

You approached cautiously, your footsteps hesitant and quiet, unwilling to draw attention to yourself. The shadows seemed to pulse in time with your movements, almost as if they were aware of you. You stopped a few feet away from the altar, your breath catching in your throat.

This map relied solely on shadows—that much was clear. The tendrils, the pools, even the way the hallways seemed to twist and shift in the dark—it all pointed to one thing.

If your theory was right, this possible new killer worked through these shadows.

Your heart pounded as you tried to piece it together. What could their power be? Could they travel through the shadows? Use them to attack from a distance? Or maybe they could manipulate the darkness to obscure your vision, making it impossible to see them coming.

The thought sent a chill down your spine.

A sudden movement to your left made you freeze. One of the shadowy tendrils shot out from a nearby pool, lashing toward the ground before retreating. You took a step back, your instincts screaming at you to run.

But just then you heard it—a low, guttural sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It wasn’t quite a growl, nor was it a voice. It was something in between, echoing from the shadows themselves.

You looked around, confused, your heart pounding in your chest as the low sound faded into the shadows. Suddenly, a scream tore through the silence, sharp and gut-wrenching, and it was close—too close. You barely had time to react before David bolted down the hallway in front of you, clutching his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers.

Your eyes widened as something sharp whizzed past him. Then another, and another. Shurikens? You blinked, trying to process what you were seeing. Shurikens weren’t part of any killer’s arsenal you’d ever faced.

Oh no.

Your stomach sank as a shadow suddenly surged down the hallway after David, swift and silent, like it was gliding through the air. Then, abruptly, the figure halted, the movement unnatural, as if the darkness itself commanded it to stop. And it did—right in front of you.

You froze.

The figure loomed in the dim light, draped in a tattered cloak that billowed as if caught in a phantom wind. The hood obscured its face, leaving you to stare at the faint, shifting tendrils of shadows that coiled around its form. It didn’t seem to touch the ground, its entire body hovering just slightly above it, giving it an almost otherworldly presence.

And then it turned.

The motion was smooth, almost too calm. The killer’s body shifted toward you, and with a deliberate motion, they raised their hands and pulled back the hood.

You gasped.

The killer was… handsome. Not in the way that made you feel safe—far from it. There was something dangerous to his features, the curve of his lips, the way his black, curly hair framed his face. His dark eyes seemed to bore into you, unreadable and endless, as if the shadows themselves were staring back at you.

And the shadows—they clung to him, crawling over his form like a living entity, their movements fluid. It was like he wasn’t just using the darkness; he was the darkness.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. The way he tilted his head, the faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips—it was enough to send a shiver down your spine. His eyes burned with a confidence, as if he already knew how this chase would end.

You didn’t wait to find out.

Your legs moved before your mind could catch up, adrenaline surging as you turned and sprinted down the nearest hallway. The air seemed heavier, as you weaved through the twisting corridors, the faint whispers around you rising to an almost deafening hum.

Behind you, you could hear him. His movements were unnervingly quiet, save for the occasional sound of something cutting through the air—shurikens.

The first one hit the wall to your right, chipping the stone. Another whizzed past your shoulder, so close you could feel the sharp breeze as it sailed by.

“Shit,” you hissed under your breath, ducking as another one flew, this time grazing your arm. The sting was immediate, sharp and hot, but you couldn’t stop.

You rounded a corner, your heart pounding in your chest, only to find yourself in yet another dimly lit hallway. The shadows seemed to thicken here, almost as if they were conspiring with the killer to slow you down. You felt another shuriken hit, this one embedding itself into your side. Pain flared, and you stumbled, but you caught yourself against the wall and kept moving.

The whispers seemed to echo his movements, warning you of his approach—or maybe taunting you. You didn’t know, and you didn’t care.

You spotted a doorway ahead, partially obscured by hanging tendrils of shadow. Without thinking, you dove through it, emerging into a larger chamber filled with more of those rippling pools of darkness. You hesitated for half a second, scanning the room for a way out, but the faint sound behind you pushed you forward.

Your breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps as you darted toward another hallway, the pain in your side making every movement harder. Still, you couldn’t stop—not with him so close.

And then, just as you thought you might have gained some distance, the whispers around you changed, their tone shifting to something more urgent. You glanced over your shoulder and saw him again, emerging from the shadows as if they had carried him forward.

Your chest heaved, each breath burning as you pushed your body. The pain in your side was relentless, but you couldn’t stop. Not with him so close. The whispers grew louder, their eerie tones twisting in your ears like warnings—or mockery.

Then, just ahead, you saw movement. Another survivor.

It was Meg. She was crouched near a wall, her eyes scanning the hallway with the practiced vigilance of someone who had done this a thousand times before. When she spotted you barreling toward her, her expression shifted from confusion to alarm.

You skidded to a stop beside her, clutching your side, and for a brief moment, the two of you just stared at each other.

Then her gaze shifted behind you, and her eyes widened.

You didn’t need to turn around to know what she saw. You could feel him behind you. Slowly, you turned your head, eyes locking on the figure now standing at the end of the hallway.

The killer didn’t rush. He didn’t need to. Instead, he tilted his head again, his eyes darted between the two of you. Shadows coiled at his feet, slithering across the ground like living things, eager to obey his command.

Meg let out a low, shaky breath. “Great. A new one.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, gripping your side as you tried to steady your breathing.

For a moment, the three of you stood there, the tension suffocating. The killer took a slow, deliberate step forward, his eyes narrowing as his hand dipped into the shadows, drawing out another shuriken.

“Run?” you suggested, your voice tight with fear.

Meg nodded. “Run.”

Without another word, you both bolted in opposite directions, hoping to split his attention. The sound of the whispers surged again, almost laughing as the chase began anew.

The sound of pounding footsteps faded, and the whispering shadows seemed to hold their breath, the air still for a moment. You paused, chest heaving, your mind racing as you took a quick glance over your shoulder. The hallway was empty now, the killer’s presence a lingering weight in the air.

You didn’t hear Meg’s scream, but you knew—he had gone after her. She’d made the right call, though, splitting the attention. That gave you a fleeting moment of silence.

You took a cautious step forward, listening intently for any sounds—footsteps, whispers, anything—but there was nothing. Not yet, at least. The only thing you could hear was your own breath, ragged and desperate.

You turned down another hallway and spotted it in the distance: the soft, flickering light of a generator.

You approached cautiously, glancing around, but there was no sign of the killer. The shadows were quiet, as though they were waiting for the next move, for the next victim.

You kneeled beside the generator, fingers trembling as you placed them on the rusted panels. Slowly, you began to turn the wheel, starting the repair. Every sound felt amplified—the grinding of the metal, the slight whir of the mechanism turning on. You glanced up every few seconds, just in case, but the silence continued to stretch on.

You kept working, the dull hum of the generator filling the space. The weight of the shadows seemed to recede for now, but you knew it wouldn’t last long. You had to finish the repair.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you twisted the dials, forcing your hands to move quickly despite the sting of your injuries. You could feel the tension rising again, the unease gnawing at your gut. Would the killer come back for you next? Would Meg be okay?

The repair progress bar finally clicked, the generator sputtering to life with a low rumble. You breathed a small sigh of relief, your pulse still racing. One down.

But the moment of peace was fleeting. The whispers had started again—soft, but unmistakable. And then you heard it. A sound far too familiar.

The soft clink of a shuriken spinning through the air.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze by the sharp sound of something slicing through the air. You didn’t even need to turn around to know what it was.

The shuriken flew past you with a deadly precision, missing your side by mere inches, the breeze it created a chilling reminder of the danger.

Without wasting a second, you pushed yourself up, your body reacting instinctively. You didn’t wait to see if another one was coming—you ran.

You sprinted down the hallway, the shadows closing in around you as the whispers grew louder, more urgent. Every step echoed in the narrow, darkened corridor, and you swore you could almost hear him moving with you, just behind, just out of sight.

A quick glance over your shoulder revealed the faint silhouette of him slipping through the darkness, the shadows swarming around his feet like tendrils, moving in perfect unison with him.

You took a sharp turn, heading toward another corridor, hoping to throw him off. Another shuriken whizzed by, the sound sharp and deadly as it embedded itself in the wall just inches from your face.

You didn’t stop.

You could hear him now—closer, his breath, heavy and echoing in the quiet between the whispers, and the realization hit you hard: you had no choice but to outrun him. And somehow, you had to survive long enough to make it out.

But you couldn’t keep running. Not anymore.

The shurikens hit you, one after another, each strike sharp and unforgiving. Pain bloomed in your side, your leg, your shoulder—each wound adding to the weight of exhaustion dragging you down. You stumbled, your legs failing to keep up with your frantic pace, and then, with a sickening lurch, you fell to the ground.

You groaned, struggling to push yourself up, but the world spun and your vision blurred. The cold, dark floor beneath you felt unyielding as you fought to regain your bearings, only for a shadow to loom over you.

You turned your head, half expecting him to pick you up and toss you over his shoulder like you were nothing, to drag you away to whatever horrific fate awaited you.

But he didn’t.

He stood there, hovering, his dark eyes studying you as you laid on the cold floor. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, the air thick with anticipation.

And then, something shifted.

The shadowy tendrils that seemed to be an extension of him reached out, their touch as cold as ice. They wrapped around you with an unnatural strength, pulling you toward him with surprising force.

You gasped as your back collided with his chest, the sudden closeness making your heart race even faster.

His breath was warm against your neck, a wide contrast to the cold tendrils that still clung to you.

Then you heard it.

A sharp, quiet gasp from behind you.

You turned your head to see the killer, his gaze fixed on you with something… different. Shock? Confusion?

And then, almost to himself, he muttered, “How can I touch you?”

The words hung in the air, confusing you further. What was he talking about?

Before you could react, you felt his arms wrap around you—no, not his arms, but something else. Something... different. His arms seemed translucent, like they were made of smoke or mist, flickering in and out of existence as they moved around your body.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the realization sank in—his arms weren’t fully there. They looked see-through, like they didn’t belong to a solid, tangible person at all.

The killer, too, seemed shocked. His eyes widened, his expression flickering with something you couldn’t quite read. His arms—ghostly, ethereal—were now fully wrapped around you, but when his skin made contact with yours, it felt… strange.

His gasp was barely audible, but it was there, a breathless sound that caught in his throat. For a moment, neither of you moved.

You could feel the heat of his body against yours, yet his touch felt distant—disconnected, like he was struggling to truly reach you.

Before you could fully process what was happening, the killer suddenly moved with startling speed, twirling you around so that you were now facing him. Your breath caught in your throat as you found yourself pressed against his chest, his arms locking around you in a firm hold.

You tried to push against him, to break free, but his grip was unyielding, making it impossible to move. He held you there, his face mere inches from yours, his eyes wide with something that looked like desperation and something about it that made you feel uneasy, yet… compelled to stay. His gaze roamed over your face, his breath quick and shallow as he muttered to himself.

"How is this possible?" His voice was barely a whisper, thick with confusion and awe. His fingers gently traced along your arm, but the touch felt as though his skin were made of mist, like he couldn’t fully reach you. Still, he continued, more to himself than you, his words tumbling out in a frantic murmur.

"How are you… different?"

You couldn’t take it any longer. His behavior was maddening, and your own confusion and fear were bubbling over. You snapped, your voice cutting through the tense silence.

"What do you mean?"

The killer’s eyes flickered to yours, a brief flash of hesitation before he answered, the words tumbling out as if he hadn’t meant to speak them at all.

“I can’t touch any of the survivors,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were ashamed of the admission. “Or any of the other killers. I go right through them… like i’m nothing but air. But with you…” He trailed off, staring at you as if trying to make sense of the impossible.

With you… you felt a chill run down your spine as his words sank in. He could actually hold you. He wasn’t phasing through you like he had with everyone else.

"Why?" His voice was barely above a whisper, a tremor of disbelief in it. "Why can I touch you?"

The weight of the question hung in the air between you, leaving a profound silence in its wake. You wanted to say something, anything, but you found yourself at a loss for words. How could you even begin to understand what was happening? How could he be so confounded by his own existence?

Before you could process what he had just said, something shifted in his demeanor. His tense body seemed to perk up, a sudden awareness flashing in his eyes. You followed his gaze, confused, only to hear it—soft at first, then steadily growing louder—the hum of a completed generator in the distance.

The killer’s eyes flickered toward you for a brief moment, a look of determination flashing in his gaze. Then, without warning, he released you from his hold, but his hands didn’t leave you completely. He tugged you toward the shadows with surprising force, and before you could react, he whispered under his breath, barely audible over the whispering darkness.

“I’ll be back for you.”

His voice was intense, almost pleading, as though he couldn’t quite comprehend the gravity of the words himself. Then, in one swift motion, the shadows on the wall seemed to come to life, curling and twisting, reaching for you like a living entity.

And just like that, the shadows wrapped around you, pulling you in with terrifying force.

You gasped, trying to scream or fight back, but it was useless. The shadows enveloped you entirely, suffocating your every movement. You couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, and before you could make sense of what was happening you were no longer standing on solid ground. Your body was floating, suspended in the air. There was no floor beneath you, no walls to guide you. The space around you was entirely dark, a suffocating blackness that seemed to stretch on forever.

You could feel the cold tendrils of the shadows curling around you, clinging to your body, holding you in place as whispers and giggles echoed all around you. The voices were indistinct at first, but they grew clearer, their tones twisted, mocking, and strangely gleeful. It was as if the shadows themselves were alive, sentient, and they were toying with you.

You felt your heart race, your chest tightening as panic set in. You could move, but only slightly, your body caught in the strange limbo.

You struggled, trying to break free, but the shadows only tightened their hold, their tendrils wrapping around you like chains, keeping you suspended in this endless dark void. And all the while, you could sense it—the presence of the killer, somewhere in the distance, maybe watching, maybe waiting.

He’d said he’d be back for you. But what would happen when he returned?

Time seemed to stretch in the endless void, your body suspended and held by the unyielding shadows. The whispers and giggles continued to swirl around you, but the longer you hung there, the more you became accustomed to the presence, as unsettling as it was. Still, you couldn’t shake the sense of anticipation—the knowing that eventually, he would return.

And when he did, you felt it before you saw him.

The shadows that had once clung to you so tightly and suffocating suddenly slackened. You were no longer held by their chilling tendrils; instead, you felt a warm presence behind you. It was as if his body had materialized from the darkness itself, his form pressing against you, pulling you close.

His arms were solid now, no longer transparent like before, and his breath was shallow as he held you, his touch so much more real than anything you had felt in what seemed like an eternity. The weight of his body against yours, the heat from his chest, the steadiness of his breath as he looked at you…

For a moment, neither of you moved, just breathing, existing in that shared space. His eyes, dark and wide, locked onto yours with such intensity that it almost felt like he could see into you, as though he understood you in a way no one else ever had.

He caressed your skin gently, his fingers trailing along your arm and then your face, as if memorizing every inch of you. His touch was tender as if he were afraid to break something fragile—something precious.

You didn’t know if it was the long and lonely time you spent, the isolation and fear that had dulled your senses, or if it was simply him, but you didn’t resist. There was something about the way he looked at you, something about the way he touched you, that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in so long.

His fingers ghosted over your lips, brushing them softly before trailing down your neck, his gaze following every movement with rapt attention. His touch was unlike anything you had ever known—careful, intimate, as if you were something he couldn’t let slip away.

No one had ever looked at you like he did. No one had ever touched you with this kind of gentleness. And no one had ever whispered to you the way he was now, words so soft and soothing, it was almost as if he was trying to comfort you.

“You’re real,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and something else you couldn’t quite place. His lips brushed your ear as he continued, “You’re not like them.”

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing your anxieties, even as they left you with more questions. You wanted to ask, to demand answers, but somehow, in that moment, all you could do was let him continue, to feel the care in his touch and the sincerity in his gaze.

For a fleeting moment, you were no longer a survivor, no longer someone just trying to escape. You were something else, something he was willing to hold, to cherish in this twisted, dark world that seemed to offer nothing but pain.

And it was terrifying. Because you didn’t know what it meant. You didn’t know what was happening, what was real anymore.

But none of that mattered. Because in his arms, you felt something you hadn’t in a long time—a connection.

The moment stretched in the strange, suffocating stillness of the shadowy realm, but soon enough, the air around you shifted. The shadows that had clung to you like a second skin began to stir, moving in ways that made the atmosphere feel thick.

The killer’s eyes snapped toward the shadows, his expression darkening. He muttered something under his breath, something sharp and frustrated. A curse, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was enough to snap him into action.

Without warning, he pulled you with him, his strong arms gripping you firmly as he yanked both of you out of the shadows. The darkness that had enveloped you receded as you were dragged back onto solid ground, the familiar, grounding feeling of the catacombs’ floors beneath your feet.

Even as your feet touched the ground, he didn’t let go of you. His hold on you tightened, his body pressed close to yours, as if he feared you might slip away again. You glanced up at him in confusion, but he said nothing, simply continuing to walk, his pace steady, the urgency in his movements palpable.

His grip never wavered, and the shadows around you seemed to retreat, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your footsteps echoing through the silence of the map. You didn’t know where he was taking you, but you didn’t dare question it. Not now, not with the strange bond that seemed to have formed between you.

As you walked, you spotted something familiar in front of you. The hatch. You couldn’t quite believe it, but there it was, just ahead of you. The familiar shape, the light flickering from within—the hatch.

Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit you: You were somehow the last survivor left? How had that happened? When did that happen?

You looked at the hatch, then back at him, your mind racing with a thousand questions. The world seemed to freeze for a moment as your gazes locked. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes said it all—he was waiting.

Slowly, his hand moved to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin with a tenderness that was almost unbearable in its intensity. His face was close now, and you could feel his breath against your lips as he leaned in, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips in a way that made your breath hitch.

He didn’t say anything at first, but then, in a voice so low and desperate, it sent a shiver through you, he muttered, “Please... don’t run from me next time.” His words were a plea, a aching cry from someone who didn’t seem to know what to do with the feelings he was experiencing.

You could only nod, stunned, still trying to process everything that had happened. The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, everything seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you.

Without another word, he brushed your hair away from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long, as if reluctant to let go. Then, as though he had made up his mind, he gently lowered you toward the hatch.

You felt the soft, unexpected drop, and before you knew it, you were tumbling through the entrance.

A wave of warmth washed over you as you fell, as your wounds and the scratches healed. The pain, the exhaustion, everything vanished, leaving you feeling as though you had never been touched by the chaos of the trials at all.

You landed softly, the familiar sight of the survivor camp filling your vision. The flickering of the campfires, the distant chatter of the others, the comfortable hum of life returning to normal…

But something had changed.

You had returned to the camp, yes, but not in the same way as before. Something about your connection with the killer lingered, something that couldn’t be undone, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. The shadows were still there, somewhere within you, calling to you.

--

It took a total of five trials before you found yourself back on his map. This time, however, something was different.

The moment you dropped into the trial, the shadows on the walls didn’t feel suffocating. No, this time, they seemed to welcome you. The familiar whispers that usually chilled your spine were replaced with something… lighter. Almost playful. Giggles danced around you like echoes in the distance, as if the shadows themselves were delighted by your arrival.

You looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The environment felt different, more open. You weren’t in the catacombs this time. Instead, you were standing in the center of an open chapel. The stone floor beneath you was cracked, worn by time, but the space itself felt strangely sacred.

Above you, the remnants of a collapsed dome hung precariously, the shattered stained-glass windows glinting in the dim light. The shards of glass were scattered across the floor like fractured pieces of a long-lost memory, reflecting faint flashes of color from the soft light that filtered in from above. It was a beautiful sight, even in its ruin. The chapel was a hauntingly perfect contrast—so full of potential, yet broken, like everything else in this world.

But you couldn’t focus on the surroundings for long. The atmosphere felt… different. It was as if you were being watched, but not in the usual way. The giggles, the whispers—they didn’t hold the same weight of threat as before. Instead, they were more like a gentle invitation, teasing you, drawing you in. It felt like the shadows were beckoning you, urging you to stay, to explore.

You had a feeling—no, a certainty—that this trial would be unlike the others.

You glanced around the chapel, the giggles of the shadows still echoing faintly in your ears. It was strange—this quiet sense of calm that had settled over the place. The air felt thick, yet there was no immediate threat. For the first time since you’d entered, you allowed yourself a brief moment of focus, and that's when you spotted it.

In the corner, tucked away amidst the broken pews and cracked stone, was a generator. You couldn't believe it at first, but there it was, its faint hum calling you towards it. Without thinking, you made your way over to it, the sound of your footsteps reverberating softly against the chapel's walls.

When you reached it you didn’t hesitate. You kneeled beside the generator and got to work, fingers deftly turning the dials and adjusting the levers, your mind oddly focused. There was something almost peaceful in the process, a rhythm you’d become familiar with in the trials. As you worked, the air around you seemed to settle, and you couldn’t help but feel as though someone was watching you, encouraging you.

It wasn’t long before you heard it. The unmistakable sound of your heartbeat growing louder and a familiar shiver ran up your spine. The shadows seemed to grow darker, more pronounced, as the figure appeared at the edge of your vision.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was. His gaze, though unseen, was like a weight on your back, pulling your attention toward him, and you could feel it—his gaze—drawn to you, to the way you were moving, to the delicate process of repairing the generator.

For a moment, you thought you heard him chuckle softly, the sound of it lingering in the air like a haunting melody.

Eventually the generator clicked into place with a soft, satisfying hum, signaling that it was finally working. You stood up, brushing off your hands, only when you turned around you saw that the killer was standing far too close for comfort. His dark eyes seemed to be watching you with an intensity that made your heart race, and before you could react, he moved.

In a swift motion, he reached out and pulled you into him. His body was firm against yours, and yet strangely gentle. The suddenness of the contact took your breath away, and you found yourself trapped within the circle of his arms, the warmth of his body radiating through you, as if he was desperate to hold you, to keep you close.

His breath brushed against your ear as he nuzzled into your neck, his presence consuming you, the shadows around you seeming to swirl tighter, more alive, as though they, too, were eager to wrap around you. The giggles in the distance faded, replaced by the steady sound of his breath, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands as you tried to steady yourself.

You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. The way he held you felt oddly familiar, like a part of you that had been missing for far too long had finally found its place. And his touch, though a little colder than it should have been, was still comforting in a way you couldn’t explain.

The killer’s fingers gently threaded through your hair, his touch delicate, as if he were afraid of hurting you. He nuzzled closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his voice barely a whisper against your skin. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” he murmured, his words almost like a confession, a desperate plea.

The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and vulnerable, and your heart stuttered in your chest. The shadows around you seemed to respond to his emotions, curling and shifting as if they were reflecting his mood.

You didn’t know what to say, or if you even could.

You tried to pull away, a desperate need for some breathing room overtaking you. The closeness of his body was overwhelming. His grip tightened in response, pulling you back against him with a sense of urgency, as though letting go wasn’t an option for him.

“No,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with something you couldn’t place, “don’t pull away.” The plea was buried in his tone leaving you with no choice but to stay close.

He clung to you desperately, his hands tracing the lines of your back, the shadows around you thickening, as though they, too, were unwilling to release you. His breath was warm against your ear as he spoke again, each word drenched in an almost reverent tone.

“You’re… you’re a blessing,” he murmured, his voice trembling with something you hadn’t heard from him before. “The Entity has blessed me with you, brought you to me.”

You froze, the words sinking into you like an anchor, pulling you deeper into his embrace. You wanted to ask him to explain, to make sense of it all, but the way he held you so tightly, so desperately, made it impossible to think clearly.

“Don’t leave me,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t lose you. You are too special for me now.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the confusion and disbelief clouding your thoughts. But the rawness in his voice, the way he clung to you as if you were the last thing that mattered in this twisted world, made you hesitate.

You couldn’t pull away, not with the way he held you, not with the whispers of the shadows wrapping around you like a cocoon. For a moment, you didn’t know if you were trapped or saved.

He eventually slowly pulled away, though his hands lingered on your arms for a moment, almost as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go. You were left standing there, your breath shaky, your heart racing, as he took a step back.

His eyes were focused on you, softer than they’d ever been. You noticed a shift in them, something you hadn’t seen before—puppy eyes, as if he were pleading with you in the quietest way possible. The shadows around you seemed to quiet down, almost as if they were holding their breath, waiting for whatever was about to happen.

He traced your cheek with a finger, his touch light, like he was memorizing the feel of your skin, as if it was something he had dreamed about. His gaze followed his hand, and you could feel the heat of his stare, intense and tender all at once. You didn’t know what to do. It was all too much.

“I can’t stand it,” he whispered, his voice a soft plea, the words just for you. “I need you to stay... please.” His breath was warm against your skin, and before you could respond, before you could even find your voice, he leaned in.

Everything around you seemed to still, the whispers of the shadows fading into the background as his lips met yours. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, as if he were waiting for some sign, some permission from you. His lips were cool but soft, and for a moment, it was as if time had stopped.

You were frozen, caught in the unexpectedness of it all, caught in the moment. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as his kiss deepened, a quiet desperation in every movement, every touch. He kissed you as if he couldn’t stop, as if he feared you might vanish if he let go.

For a moment, you gave in to the sensation, the overwhelming mix of emotions, the sweetness and the tension. You couldn’t pull away, not even if you wanted to. The shadows seemed to curl around you both, their presence now almost comforting, like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in that fragile moment.

His kisses grew more desperate, each one heavier, more consuming than the last. His hands pressed firmly against your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of space between you. A low, guttural groan escaped his lips, vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t move, caught entirely off guard by his fervor. No one had ever acted like this around you before—not before the Entity’s realm, not during. There was something almost intoxicating about the way he clung to you, his lips trailing from yours to your jaw, down to the curve of your neck.

And, to your surprise, you realized... you kind of liked it.

His voice came in soft, muffled murmurs against your skin. “I need you,” he groaned, his tone laced with an almost painful desperation. “I need to hold you, to keep you close. You’re mine—you’re meant for me.”

The words hit you like a wave, leaving you breathless. His arms wrapped around you tighter, his fingers gripping as though he feared you might vanish if he let go. The shadows around you seemed to move in tandem with his emotions, curling closer, darker, as if they were an extension of his longing.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’ve waited... I’ve searched... and then you came.” He pulled you so close it felt like he was trying to meld you both together, his forehead pressed against yours as he panted softly, his lips brushing yours again.

There was no denying the intensity in his words and the way his entire being seemed to focus solely on you. The world around you faded away, all of it becoming irrelevant under the weight of his need.

And for a moment, just a moment, you let yourself lean into it, into him.

--

You didn’t know how it worked. Honestly, you didn’t question much about the things that happened in the Entity’s realm—trying to make sense of it always felt like a losing battle. But being the only person that the killer—Jake, as you had learned—could touch and hold? That made the trials with him… special.

Special in a way that involved him finding you almost immediately when the trial started, his shadowy tendrils guiding him to you as though you were a beacon. Special in the way he would pull you into his arms without hesitation, holding you so close it felt like he was trying to merge your existence with his. And then came the kisses—hungry, fervent, and relentless. He didn’t seem to care about the trial or the Entity’s expectations, not unless another survivor got too close to where you both were. That was the only time he would let go, stepping between you and anyone else like a jealous guard dog.

You had learned early on that he truly couldn’t touch the other survivors. You’d seen him try—his hand passing right through them as though he was nothing but air. It made you wonder, why? Why were you the exception?

The Entity gave the killers their abilities. It had given Jake control over the shadows, molded him into one with the darkness itself. The Entity had made Jake a shadow—a specter that could haunt but never truly connect.

So why you? Did the Entity truly bless Jake with you, as he claimed? Was this some kind of twisted reward or cruel joke? You didn’t know.

And, honestly, when Jake held you so close, his arms wrapped around you like you were his entire world, you didn’t want to think about it. His touch was warm, his attention was unwavering, his affection intense.

A handsome, desperate man who seemed to make it his life’s purpose to hold you, kiss you, and pour all his emotions into you wasn’t something you regularly stumbled across—especially not here. The way he acted like you were his lifeline, the only thing tethering him to existence, wasn’t something you’d ever experienced before. He made you feel wanted, needed, cherished—things you hadn’t felt in longer than you could remember. And maybe that was why you let him.

It felt pretty good, honestly.

Good to be wanted. Good to be someone’s lifeline.

--

You did figure out one thing, though... well, two things.

For one, you enjoyed the feeling of Jake’s arms around your waist. How they would drape over you, his hands firm yet gentle as they gripped your hips, holding you as though you were the only solid thing in his shadowy world. It was strange, feeling safe in the arms of someone who was meant to kill. Ironic, even. But that’s how it felt—safe.

The second thing you figured out was that you loved the feeling of Jake’s lips. It didn’t matter where they landed—your neck, your throat, your shoulder, your cheek, your forehead. Each kiss sent a warmth through you that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. But the best? The best was when his lips met yours. Jake’s kisses weren’t just kisses. They were declarations. They were desperate, wanting, filled with the kind of need that made your head spin and your heart race.

Your favorite moments, though, were the times when it had been too long since you last saw him. When he’d finally appear, the shadows curling and shifting to reveal him, he would drop every pretense of being a killer. The mask would slip away, and there he was—clingy, needy, and entirely fixated on you.

“I missed you,” he’d murmur into your hair as he held you close. “I kept thinking about you. I can’t stand being away from you. I need you.”

He would rant softly, his words spilling out like a dam had broken. His voice would tremble, and he’d clutch you tighter, burying his face into your shoulder, his shadowy figure melting into something softer—something vulnerable.

In those moments, he didn’t feel like the Entity’s chosen killer. He felt like a lovesick puppy, desperate for your attention, your touch, your reassurance.

And it was cute. At least, you thought so.

a/n: i basically had peggy from ceechynaa on replay during this. reblogs and commentary are appreciated!

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[florencesf1blog]

idk if you’d be into writing this type of thing but i was hoping to see a step brother!carlos au👀

oh i’m open to a lot of things girl but i’ve never written for something like this so i hope it’s good🙏

——————————————————————————

your father recently remarried, which brought a lot of changes in your life. it took you some time to adapt, but luckily your kind step brother!carlos is here to help you out.

step brother!carlos who is all about helping his new step sister move into her new room. he carries the heavy boxes and helps to put shelves and closets together. what a gentleman! but really he’s mostly intrigued by the stuff you brought with you. to get a bit of an insight he’s all about helping you unpack, too.

step brother!carlos who makes sure you feel welcome in his home. he shows you around, tells you where stuff is and even offers to take you out to lunch to show you his hometown. isn’t he just a sweetheart?

step brother!carlos who often workouts in your yard, that just happens to be the view out of your bedroom window. you often catch yourself staring, especially because carlos can’t be bothered to wear a shirt. you think he never notices, because he never brings it up. but there’s a reason he keeps working out in the same spot.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

step brother!carlos who comes to call you downstairs for dinner, but catches you doing something else instead. the sight of you fingering yourself should have scared him off, but the two of you think different. ‘go on then, cariño. show me what you do to yourself’. ‘i know you’re thinking of me. i know you’ve been watching me, too’. ‘i’ll help you cum, only if you cum to my name’.

step brother!carlos who is all about teaching you new things. he wouldn’t say he was disappointed when he found out you were a virgin (though it would’ve been more fun of you were) because he had other things on his mind. when you told him no man had ever eaten you out before, he was happy to be the first. ‘you’ll have to stay quiet, bebe, wouldn’t want your father catching us now would we?’ he’d tell you, though he’d make quite an effort to get some noise out of you. the way he sucked on your clit, the way his tongue lapped up and inside of you had you writhing.

step brother!carlos who doesn’t like to share. nobody can know of the things that take place once everyone else in the house is asleep. so when he invited his friends over, they think you’re up for grabs. and you, being the tease that you are, let them think that. obviously carlos couldn’t stand for that. he excuses himself and goes straight to your room. ‘what do you think you’re doing?’. ‘maybe i should stuff your mouth so you can’t rattle your mouth anymore’. he doesn’t waste any moment. his friends are waiting for him after all. you take his cock, gagging as it hits the back of your throat at a brutal pace. after he came in your mouth, he leaves you disheveled in your room.

——————————————————————————

kind of a scrap cause idk how i feel about this and i haven’t done this in a while. lmk what you think!

want more step brother!carlos or have other ideas? leave them behind in my inbox!

[nosyp]

Under His Spell

Warning = captivity, kidnapping, controlling behaviour, isolation

Pairing = Malleus x reader

Summary = You somehow become entangled in Malleus Draconia's world. A world where love and possessiveness show no mercy.

Word count = 2.7k

A/N = kinda diff writing style... idk if i like it

It had all happened so quickly. One moment, you were walking back to your dorm, and the next, you were trapped in the clutches of Malleus Draconia. The world around you was a blur as he whisked you away into another world, far from the safety of your friends and the walls of NRC. You barely had time to react, the overwhelming pressure of his magic sealing any chance of escape.

The fabric clung to you in ways you despised. The gown, if you could even call it that, was more revealing than anything you’d ever worn. Every movement you made reminded you of how little it covered your skin, and every moment in it only fueled the indignation burning in your chest.

You didn’t want to wear it.

You never would have chosen this for yourself. But choice wasn’t something Malleus Draconia gave you the privilege of anymore.

He stood across the room, his imposing figure bathing in the eerie green glow of the enchanted light fixtures lining the walls. His gaze was heavy, deliberate, raking over you as though you were a masterpiece he’d created, a vision only he could fully appreciate.

“Beautiful,” he said finally, his deep voice sending a chill down your spine.

You crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to shield yourself from his scrutinizing eyes. “I don’t care what you think,” you snapped, the bitterness in your voice cutting through the still air.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but it wasn’t one of amusement. It was one of satisfaction, as though your defiance was something he enjoyed playing with. He stepped closer, each movement slow and calculated.

“You speak so boldly,” he said, his tone as smooth as silk. “But look at you now… draped in the finest of fabrics, adorned as you should be. You wear it well, even if you resist.”

“I didn’t choose this,” you hissed, stepping back, only to feel the cold stone wall press against your bare shoulders. “You forced me into it.”

“And yet, it suits you,” he replied, tilting his head slightly as though pondering a work of art. “I knew it would.”

You wanted to tear the dress off, to scream, to fight. But the magic woven into the room, into him, was suffocating. Every fiber of the garment seemed laced with his power, and removing it felt as impossible as escaping his grasp.

“I’m not your doll, Malleus,” you spat, your nails digging into your palms. “You can’t just... dress me up and pretend I’m okay with this.”

His eyes softened for a moment, but only for a moment until it was quickly replaced by the intensity you’d come to dread. “You misunderstand me,” he said, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You flinched, but he didn’t pull away. “This is not about what you want. It’s about what you need. And you... need me.”

“I need you to let me go,” you countered, glaring up at him with all the fury you could muster.

He chuckled, low and almost fond, but it had a hidden subtext that made your stomach churn. “Oh, my dear,” he murmured, leaning in close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You’ll come to understand. In time, you’ll see that everything I do... is for you.”

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze, but that only seemed to amuse him further. His fingers brushed against your cheek, and the touch sent a shiver through you, not of fear, but of the undeniable power he wielded over you.

The weight of his magic hung in the air, binding you in ways that no physical chains ever could. No matter how much you fought, how much you resisted, the reality was undeniable.

The silence between you both stretched on, thick with tension. You refused to meet his eyes, your gaze fixed firmly on the floor, but Malleus didn’t seem to mind. He seemed content enough with simply watching you, studying you, almost as if you were something to be dissected. Something to be admired.

“You’re still resisting,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost like a murmur. “How charming.”

You could feel the weight of his gaze, like an invisible burden you couldn’t escape. You wanted to snap, to lash out, but every part of you screamed to hold onto your dignity, to not let him see how much his control rattled you.

But it was getting harder and harder to maintain that illusion. His presence was all-encompassing, overwhelming. His very being wrapped around you, suffocating you with his power.

"I don’t need this," you whispered, your voice shaking despite your attempts to sound firm.

Malleus took a step forward, and you felt your heart race. You couldn’t back away this time.  The wall had trapped you. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that almost sent you to heaven.

“You do not understand,” he said softly, reaching for the hem of your ‘dress’. “I do this because I know what’s best for you. You are mine, and everything I do for you... it is because you need it.”

The words were strange, unsettling. As though you were just a thing to be molded. Just a thing to be controlled. He didn’t even see you as a person anymore, but as something to shape, to dress, to possess.

“I am not yours," you said again, but this time there was less conviction in your voice. The truth of the situation was pressing down on you, hard and unyielding. You were his, whether you liked it or not. And the realization burned in a way that felt worse than any physical pain.

Malleus smiled, a faint curve of his lips that was equal parts warmth and danger. "You are. And one day, you will accept it."

You clenched your fists at your sides, frustration starting to rise to the surface. "If I do," you spat, "it’ll be because you forced me to."

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were contemplating your words. “Perhaps,” he mused. “But you see, my dear, it’s already begun.”

With that, his hand reached for you again, his fingers brushing over the fabric of the dress you were trapped in. His touch was almost tender, but the intent behind it was anything but. The way he traced the material, his fingers lingering on the edge of the neckline, sent a chill of discomfort through you.

"I’ll allow you to adjust," Malleus said, stepping back to give you space, but his eyes never left you. "But don’t mistake this for kindness. This is my mark on you, and you will wear it proudly. Everything I do is for you. And soon enough, you will realize that, in time.”

His words lingered in the air, like a spell, still present. You couldn’t even tell if he was being serious, or if he truly believed that. But either way, you didn’t have much choice now. The magic binding you to this place was stronger than your will to resist.

The realization was sinking in, and you hated it. Hated that you were so powerless in his presence.

With one final glance, Malleus turned and walked towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the room. “Rest,” he called over his shoulder. “We have much more to discuss tomorrow.”

And with that, you were left in the cold, dim room, the dress still clinging to your skin, your mind swirling with the tormenting thoughts of what could come next. He could eliminate you in an instant, but he didn’t.

You had been left alone in the room for what felt like hours. Malleus’s departure had left a heavy silence in his wake, but the oppressive weight of his control lingered in the air. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had touched you, the way his eyes had gleamed with that unsettling mix of affection and possession. The way he’d claimed you… your body, mind and soul.

But you weren’t his, no matter what he thought. And you weren’t going to stay here forever.

Your mind raced, plotting every possible way to escape his clutches. You couldn’t just run. That would be predictable, and you knew Malleus would catch you quickly. His magic was too strong for that. But there had to be another way, something less obvious that he couldn’t see.

As you paced the room, your eyes scanned every inch of it. The walls were high and covered in eerie, ancient tapestries depicting dragons, castles, and landscapes. You had no idea how this room was even built or how you could get out, but your gaze shifted to something else: the balcony door. It was locked, naturally, but you had seen Malleus use magic before. Maybe you could use that to your advantage.

It wasn’t running. It wasn’t reckless. It was just… a calculated risk.

You waited until you were sure Malleus was far enough away, probably in the garden or some distant part of the castle, before you even decided to move an inch.

You tried to recall any spell you had learned, any incantation that could break through the magic that held the door closed. You weren’t a magician by nature, but there had to be something. You were resourceful, you can use what you have.

Your fingers brushed over the surface of the door, searching for something, anything, that might give. Then, faintly, you felt it. The magic on the door was delicate. It wasn’t solid, just a thin veil keeping you trapped inside. You could feel the faintest pulse of it, just enough to give you the idea you needed.

“Focus,” you told yourself, taking a deep breath. It was risky, and you had no idea if it would work, but you had to try. You reached into your pocket, your fingers brushing against the familiar cold of your small pendant. It was a trinket you had found years ago, neglected but oddly comforting.

It wasn’t enchanted, but the pendant had always brought you a sense of calm. Maybe, just maybe, it could help you focus enough to channel your own inner magic. You closed your eyes, focused all your energy into the pendant, and visualized the door unlocking, the magic dissipating, leaving a way out.

For a long, heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. The door remained locked, the magic still pressing against you.

But then, a subtle click echoed through the room.

You opened your eyes, your breath getting stuck in your throat. It worked.

Quickly, you slipped past the threshold of the door and onto the balcony, heart racing. The moon was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the landscape below. You could hear the distant sound of Malleus’s voice, low and steady, but you didn’t have time to waste.

The castle walls seemed to stretch infinitely upward, but below, there was only a series of interwoven wooden framework covered in vines. Maybe this was your escape route. You swallowed hard, the feeling of everything moving making your head spin in circles, but you didn’t have any other choice. You couldn’t afford to waste any time, and you knew Malleus wouldn’t be fooled for long.

Your fingers gripped the vines, your feet finding itself on the stones of the trellis. You were careful, precise, and as silent as you could manage, climbing down as carefully and gracefully you could.

And then, just as you reached the ground and took a step forward, the unmistakable sound of a door slamming open echoed through the courtyard. Your heart leaped into your throat.

“Malleus...” you muttered under your breath, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

You had no idea where you were going. You had no plan beyond getting away. But as the sound of his heavy footsteps grew nearer, you pushed yourself faster, deeper into the woods.

You forced deeper into the woods, branches and underbrush tugging at your clothes as you ran past the array of trees. The soft crunch of leaves from every step you took was drowned out by the loud sounds of your heartbeat, each thump against your chest reminding you of the danger you were in. The moonlight leaked past the trees leaves, but the shadows in the forest were thick and suffocating.

Behind you, Malleus’s presence loomed. You could feel it even if you couldn’t hear his footsteps. His magic was always near, an invisible thread pulling at you, and it made your skin crawl. The forest wasn’t safe, not with him so close, but it was your only chance.

You didn’t dare look back. Instead, you focused ahead, each step faster than the last. The more distance you put between you and the castle, the more you could breathe, the less his overwhelming presence could crush you. But the sense of being hunted never faded.

The air was cooler now, and the forest seemed to stretch on endlessly. You couldn’t hear Malleus anymore. Maybe you had gotten far enough… maybe you had outrun him.

You stumbled to a stop, gasping for air. Sweat trickled down your brow, your legs burning from the effort. The trees around you were silent, but something still felt off. Your gut told you he wasn’t far behind.

You moved cautiously, your instincts alert, eyes darting in every direction. The silence was too still. Too perfect. And then, in the distance, you heard it. The sound of footsteps. They were deliberate and slow, almost like they had all the time in the world.

Malleus. The man you oh so desperately loathe.

You froze. His voice, too, reached your ears, a deep, rumbling whisper that seemed to wrap itself around you even from a distance.

"You cannot escape me," he called softly. His voice was a low growl, but there was no anger in it. Only a cold, confident certainty.

You bit your lip, eyes darting desperately, searching for an escape route. There was no way you could outrun him. Not now. He had already closed the gap. And then, you felt it, the sharp prickling sensation of magic weaving its way through the air, binding you in place.

He was here.

Before you could move, a figure emerged from the shadows, tall and imposing. Malleus, as you had known he would be. His eyes glowed like two eerie embers in the darkness, and the corners of his lips curled into an almost amused smile. But his gaze was cold, calculating.

“You don’t think I would let you go that easily, do you?” His voice was soft but laced with something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You took a shaky step back, every instinct screaming to run, to fight, to do anything to break free of his grasp. But his magic had already coiled around you, tight and unyielding.

With a flick of his wrist, the vines around you tightened, pulling you closer. Your breath caught in your throat, and you struggled against the pull, but it was useless. He had you now, and there was no escape.

"Why do you resist?" he asked, his tone almost pitiful, but there was no warmth in it. "I have given you everything. All you need is to accept me."

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it was filled with defiance. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”

He tilted his head, his sharp eyes studying you, intrigued. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips.

“I see,” he said, his voice dripping with something almost too sweet. "Then perhaps, you just need a little more...persuasion."

Before you could react, his magic gushed through, sending threads of energy through the air. The world around you suddenly dissipated, putting you through a whole new world. When the sensation faded, you were back at the castle, standing in the middle of a grand hall, surrounded by towering stone walls.

You were trapped again.

[cheriden]

˙ . ˚ ₊ 「 HOW TO FIND OUT IF YOUR ROOMMATE IS A VAMPIRE 」 ꜝꜝ

── your new roommate has been acting weird, and you've taken it upon yourself to get to the bottom of it

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ 。。。

pairings 。best friend!yeonjun x reader x friend!soobin

.ᐟ genre 。suggestive at most? crack & fluff

.ᐟ tags 。vampire au, blood sucking?? feeding?? idk, they're both kind of dumb but not really just kind of, erm nothing else i think

.ᐟ status 。oneshot | masterlist

✎ ๋࣭ ⭑ kind of corny and cheesy but idgaf it’s my blog!!! i totally forgot about this but it was at a point where i said yeah sure what the hell and decided to post it. another roommate hyuka au bc my schedules never go as planned so i just cut it short...i'll post an nsfw addition if people want it though

You tap your pen against the counter as you watch your roommate do his “work,” typing away at his remote job on his laptop. You narrow your eyes at him with a pout, drumming the writing material faster on the surface. Kai sighs and looks up at you, mirroring your investigative expression. “Are you alright?”

You narrow your eyes further, nodding slowly. “Yeah, just finishing the points for my project.” He turns back to the screen, humming absentmindedly. “What’s it about?” You freeze, stuttering over yourself. “It’s—uh, about…Global warming.” He doesn’t seem convinced, raising an arched brow at you, but he lets it pass anyway. “Well, good luck on that.” 

It’s been a few months since the boy had moved in with you, and fewer when you began to realize his strange patterns.

You look down at your notes—and in bold, underlined writing are the words “HUENING KAI IS A VAMPIRE (proof).” If anyone were to ever see this pad, they’d call you comically insane. However as previously mentioned, you have proof. First, he never goes out during the day. Granted, he has a job and takes night classes—but other than that, he’s never gone on a grocery run with you or exited his room on the weekends unless the sun sets. Second, he always drinks from an insulated tumbler. It even stays by his side at the dinner table, opting for it rather than the rest of the glasses. Third, he never cooks with garlic. He’s pretty much the cook out of the two of you, recalling the incident of you somehow setting fire on the stove. Who cooks without garlic? A vampire, that’s who. Third, he always disappears at dawn. You’re not insane enough (yet) to follow him, especially when you can barely keep your eyes open after midnight. Sometimes you hear the front door and peek at his silhouette, a large duffel bag in his grasp—but your conscience (your laziness) forbids you from leaving the place unattended for the sole purpose of following him. Lastly, he’s unbelievably pretty. This point has a really large question mark on it in red ink, but you’ve never seen someone look so angelic, as if he would glimmer in the sunlight. Not that you would know, he mostly wears baggy clothes that are long in sleeves and pants. Like what? A vampire!

What would you even get out of this? He would’ve sucked your blood to death by now—but maybe splitting rent was just easier for him. If he was a vampire and he had no intention to murder you in cold blood, then you suppose you would let him stay.

What? He’s a great roommate, great cook, tidy, and fun to be around. Every time you think about it, it comes to a point where you realize he would make a great significant other. But that’s ridiculous, he's a vampire after all, so you conclude that you were just curious about him and his weird habits.

──

For step one, you decide to check for his reflection. Throughout your five second internet search along with your film viewing, you know for a fact that vampires do not have reflections. “Kai! Grab me a towel please!” You plead, voice shrill and loud as you patiently wait in the shower. Truthfully, you forgot your towel. But why not take this opportunity to test your hypothesis? Kai fumbles with the door knob as you peek through the corner of the curtain. “A-are you naked? My eyes are closed!” You turn to the mirror, fogged up by the steam. You tut in disapproval, wiping it away to reveal Kai’s apprehensive form. You pout, snatching the towel from him and wrapping it around yourself. “You can look now.” He peeks through his fingers and gasps at your still half-naked self as you sulk out of the bathroom. 

Admittedly, you almost quit after that encounter altogether. But one evening, Kai worked an odd shift, rendering him unable to cook dinner and leaving the meal up to you. He walks out of his room to a suspiciously clean and hazard free area, with food set on the table. “This looks… Edible.” He says shocked, earning an eye roll from you. “Do you not trust me to make dinner?” The other looks down, scratching his head. “Well, the last time you cooked I had to replace my nonstick pan. That thing’s been with me since elementary.” You huff, taking your seat across from him. “Whatever. I ordered it and put it on one of our plates. Happy?” He sits down as well, taking a serving for himself. “I'd be happier if you learned how to cook without burning the apartment down. It’s a very important life skill, you know.” You make a sound of annoyance, picking at your food. “I do other things—like cleaning. Besides, if I had skill, we wouldn’t be having garlic soy chicken.” The other freezes for a while and slowly looks up at you from his plate. “Does this have garlic?” You nod, pointing at the box over by the trash can. “Yup, it’s their most popular flavor. Honestly I like their other ones better—”

Kai spits the foot out and wraps his hands around his neck, dropping to the ground. “Holy shit!” You chant over and over, flailing around in circles as he lays on the floor. “In my room—desk drawer!” He hisses, and you frantically run across the place. You aren't even sure what you’re getting, but once you see a stack of epinephrine injections, you grab one and stab him with it. 

You kind of feel guilty for a moment, because you thought he was actually a vampire who couldn’t eat garlic. Turns out he just had an allergic reaction to garlic, which was rare but apparently not impossible.

──

The following morning, you meekly knock at the door to his room. Today is his free day, and you wanted to make it up to him. You bring him flowers and a new EpiPen injection, smiling at him when he opens the door. “I’m sorry for poisoning you yesterday.” And for trying to prove you were a bloodsucking supernatural immortal. “We can go out today if you want? My treat.” His smile forms the shape of a box with his eyebrows upturned, and you know he’s about to reject you. “That’s fine, but I’m really not in the mood for—” — “Come on, Kai! We can do anything you want, please?” You plead, leaning over and pouting at him. He sighs in defeat, straightening his posture once he realizes your words. “Anything?” You nod fervently. “Anything.”

“Then,” he starts, fidgeting with the ends of his hoodie, “it’s a date.” You blink up at him, thinking for a moment. Oh like a friendly date, bonding together! You nod again, grin wide and bright. “Okay!”

It was after the park walk and arcade that you realized it may be more than a friendly date. You’re shifting uncomfortably in your seat, watching Kai order something in French you won’t even try to pronounce. “Kai, I don’t think I can afford any of these.” You whisper, to which he shakes his head. “It’s alright, I got it. You must be sick of my home cooking by now.” — “That’s not true!” You exclaim rather loudly, “I love your cooking.” He giggles at you, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm lighting against the other’s complexion or seeing him in something other than sweats that makes you anxious all of a sudden. “I’ll pay you for this, I swear.” Kai pushes his hair back and rests his face in his palm. “You can pay me back with another date.” Another date?! 

Your thoughts are cut by the smell of the food set in front of you, and you spare no time in stuffing as much as you can into your mouth as the other watches you in endearment. 

──

When you get home, he stops at the front door and stops you from pulling out your keys. You raise an eyebrow in question, while he laughs awkwardly to himself. “Today was really fun. I’m almost entirely glad that you decided to almost kill me yesterday.” You grin sheepishly at his words, “Again, I’m so sorry.” You’re about to continue rambling, but the other is staring at you so intensely you quiet down. “...What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s embarrassing how quickly you answer yes, and you cup your cheeks in your palms in an attempt to hide the blush forming underneath—but it’s no use. He grabs the end of your fingers and replaces your hands with his, inching his face closer to yours. His lips move slow and calculated, rhythm steady as you let him work his way through your mouth. Just as you reciprocate his movements, your tongue is nicked by something sharp, making you jolt upright. But Kai doesn’t let you go, instead he crashes himself deeper into you, sucking at the surface of your tongue and separating with a resounding pop. The both of you take heavy breaths for a while, your hair disheveled and his bottom lip coated in crimson sheen. “I knew it!” You exclaim, before shrinking within yourself. “You’re—uh, you’re a…” You trail off, body pressed against the wooden panel. “I’m a vampire.” He breathes out, “Wait, you knew?” 

You’re trembling, panic-stricken as you nudge the doorknob over and over. “That’s not gonna turn without the key.” He mumbles, and you point your key at him in an ill attempt at self-defense. “Are you gonna eat me?!” 

“Eat—what? No.” He says, using his own key to unlock the place. You squeak as he maneuvers you into the apartment, and he settles you down on the couch across from him. “But how?” You start, “I can see your reflection?” — “Uh, yeah? I’m a vampire, not a figment of your imagination.” You deflate at his words, leaning forward. “But all the novels say—” He cuts you off with laughter. “All the novels? Do you read supernatural romance?” Defensive, you raise your arms. “It’s more drama than romance! They say vampires can’t see their reflection because they have no souls.” The other raises a brow, “Ouch. What does that even mean?” You shrug, completely lost. 

“So what’s true? About like, myths about you?” Pursing his lips in thought, Kai settles against the cushions. “The mirror thing is just stupid. I guess the garlic thing is true.” You blink, dumbfounded. “That’s real?” The other nods. “If convulsing on the floor was any indicator, then yeah.” You furrow your brows, “What kind of old vampire ailment gets cured via EpiPen?” — “I mean—it kind of works like an allergy anyway. Contact dermatitis and whatnot.” You scoff. “And whatnot,” you mock, “what about going out at night and wearing baggy clothes outside? What about sneaking off at dawn?” Tilting his head, he replies calmly. “I told you, I have work during the day and I work out at night—what are you doing?” You reach for the notepad stored in one of the drawers, twirling your pen as you go through every item on your list. “What about the tumbler?” Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “The tumbler?”

“What’s in your tumbler? You have it with you at all times, hell you even took it out today! Is it blood?” You ask as if it were scandalous, voice low and in a whisper. “It’s really just water.” He replies, “I feed through a network of fully consenting humans.” 

You put the pad down, crossing your arms at him with a glare. “You’ve never asked me to help you. Is my blood not good enough for your bourgeois taste buds?” Confusion paints his face, quick to dispute your statement. “No, and believe me, your blood has been really tempting. It’s just that, well, I like you—and I thought maybe you would hate me or something.” 

“Oh.” Your palms turn clammy as you shut them on each other, thinking of more questions. “So how long were you—like were you always a vampire?” He shakes his head in disagreement, answering, “I turned a few years back actually.” You gaze at him empathetically. “I’m sorry.” He laughs, indifferent. “Sorry for what?” You return the laugh nervously, “I… Don’t know.” A few beats of silence pass before you speak up again. “Well! At least now your skin is glowing and—” “Oh that’s not a myth…” He admits, “I’ve always looked like this.” Clearing your throat, you reply: “Well, you’re very pretty.” This coaxes a genuine smile from him. “Thanks, you’re very pretty too.” The both of you stay completely still again, though this time Kai breaks the silence. “Was all this an attempt to find out if I was a vampire?” You chuckle lightly, half humiliated. “No… I kind of gave up when I saw your reflection. I promise I didn’t mean to give you an allergic reaction.” He disregards your apologies lightly with a raised hand, still in thought. “About the date…” You’re quick to explain, “Honestly I didn’t think it was going to be a date date.” His frown and the dent between his brows deepen. “So you don’t like me?” Picking at the fabric of the couch, you stammer through your words.“I don’t—not like you? I just haven’t thought about you like that until recently, I guess.”

“So what do you think now?” You gaze up to see him staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “As long as you don’t kill me I’m fine—I think.” He follows up immediately, “Does that mean you’ll feed me? I’ll just take a little, I swear.” You wince at his eagerness, rubbing the skin of your nape. “Does it hurt?” Kai draws back at your reluctance, feigning nonchalance with a dismissive wave of hand. “A bit, yeah. But! I heard it makes some people feel good.” — “Good how?” The other shrugs, lips forming into a line. “Not sure.” Your curiosity has always led you to uncomfortable positions, this being the most life threatening one so far. Honestly, you should just drop this whole thing altogether.

“You’ll stop when I tell you to, right?” His face lights up again, jumping over to your side of the sofa. “Of course.”

Hesitant, you move away the hair behind your neck and Kai takes it as a sign to move even closer. He grabs your waist and hoists you up to straddle him, cheeks flushed when he looks into your eyes and realizes he’s gotten ahead of himself. After you reassure him with a peck on the lips, he dips his head over to the junction between your shoulder and face, looking up at you for a signal. Milliseconds after you nod, he sinks his teeth in slowly, rupturing the barrier of flesh. He halts for a minute before taking, as if the slightest movement would set you off. He can feel a squeak vibrate through your throat and your thighs tense against his hips, slightly trembling.

True to his word, he lets you go once he feels your grip tighten at his arms. He licks over the wound he created and kisses it, meeting your eyes again. You’re stunned in place, the only movement coming from rapid blinking and taking in breaths.

“Woah.”

He cups the sides of your face, searching your expression for discontent. “Woah? Woah bad or woah good?” You lean your head back and stare into the ceiling, lightly gripping the collar of his shirt. “As in I feel lightheaded—and weird. Feels super weird. Like I’m tipsy.” Gasping, the other fidgets in place, your weight keeping him down. “Oh no.” He starts to panic, but you shut it down by smiling at him, albeit loopy. “Don’t worry, I’m fine—great even.” You assure him, covering his face in short kisses before resting your cheek against his chest. Sighing in relief, Kai plays with the top of your head for a moment, before you grab both his wrists and look at him with sparkles in your eyes. “Can we do that again?”

halloooo i took a long break and this is kind of a warm-up back hehe i have like 3 fics in active development (plus one of the two/three part-ers i started last year, but it iz what it iz!

tag .ᐟ @hyunj00

[marchsfreakshow]

Coincidences [Tangerine]

Fluff

You subtly followed The Twins to Japan, just for a holiday. And you just so happen to get on the same train as them to Kyoto.

Your honour I love him, and he owns my soul. <3

Lmao. Idk. Take it pls. It's a bit short but too long to be a normal imagine.

No one's perspective.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

You had subtly followed your fiancé and his twin to Japan and on the train. Obviously, you went for the general sights and exploring. Tangerine didn't even notice that you had followed, he called you occasionally when you were in your hotel, just to check on you. Thank god it was silent in the hotel. He couldn't hear the familiar hustle and bustle of Japan that he had gotten used to while on the job.

You got on the train at a random station, barely paying attention to the world and the seeming chaos around you. Music in your earphones, and watching the night sky go past you. There was chaos in the train cars to the front and the back of you. Loud noises waving past your ears.

Despite your train car being decently empty, someone sat next to you. Oh..god. You squirmed slightly. Yet you could feel the eyes on you. "Darling?" The voice asked muffled. That voice sounded familiar. Looking over, you stared at Tangerine for a moment, then smiled like you hadn't just been caught by your fiancé on the same train he was.

"Ha...hi.. hey sweetie.." You stuttered out, going a bit red at the man sitting next to you.

"well what's god's green earth are you doing here love? I thought you were still at home doing wedding research."

"I am." I chuckled, holding your phone out to show Tangerine a Pinterest board filled with wedding ideas in your favourite colour. He just chuckled and kissed your cheek, placing an arm around your shoulder to pull you close. "I dunno... might've sneaked on your plane with you..just to grab a holiday in Japan."

"You, little shit.." a bit of laughter shared between you as Tangerine lightly grabbed your face and kissed you with a smile. "Just, be fuckin careful okay? That's some shit going down and i'd rather my fiancé doesn't get killed by some rude asshole who doesn't care for you."

"well I'm getting off at Kyoto.."

"Good. Me too sweetheart. When you get off, yeah, just immediately head for the train station exit and wait for me my love."

You nodded and kissed Tangerine eagerly, tasting the drying blood on his lips. Your hands resting on his chest as he brought you as close as possible. Obviously, that was difficult in two small train seats, but you made it work. "I love you. And I am genuinely so fucking glad you're here." Tangerine whispered, staring at you like you were the only thing worth a shit to come out of England.

"I love you more Lucille."

"Alright, there you are, i-" Lemon cut himself off, seeing you cuddled close to Tangerine and quickly enjoying eachother's company with the looming threat of death over the Twins heads. He took a moment to stare at you before sitting in the train seat opposite his brother. "Cherry. Good to see you? What are you doing here?" They called you Cherry whenever they wanted to talk to you but were out on a job. It was sort of cute since you never were the assassin type. But you liked it, and Tangerine definitely did too.

"Um...suprise?"

"My beloved, right here Lemon, decided to subtly follow us onto the plane to Japan. Take a little trip without telling us."

Lemon just smirked and huffed out a chuckle. "I am surprised you didn't follow us into the assassination line Cherry y'know? Sneaking around us like that without us noticing. Very clever."

His comment made you roll your eyes with a smirk, and rest your head on Tangerine's shoulder. "I've been looking at wedding ideas... What do you think of this?" You showed Lemon your Pinterest board, an overwhelming majority of wedding cakes, dresses and suits in the colour you adored more than anything. He nodded approvingly.

"I think i'd suit a suit that colour."

"You definitely would."

The three of you continued to natter about plans, and your excitement made everything you said set in stone for Tangerine. He loved seeing you smile, loved seeing the excitement light up your eyes by the night sky fleeting by.

That was until Ladybug went by. Lemon immediately glanced up at him, and you noticed Tangerine hesitating to get up. Since he immediately melted into your touches, getting used to your happiness again. Lemon instead got up, and started to follow the guy. You had no clue what was going on, but you knew it was a dangerous job. "Everything okay?"

"Nothing you should worry about my darling. You're too precious."

As much as you wanted to pry your fiancé for information, you figured it was best if you stayed quiet. "...can you still atleast stay here with me for a bit?"

"Course I can sweetheart."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tag: @american-horror-whore @r4fe-cam3ron

Not my regular taglist since this is a new character.

[lostsyren]

The problem I have with people disliking Sofia:

(ok maybe this is biased since I love her but I’ll try to speak from an objective perspective)

Most of the reasons I see for people not liking her (ignoring the people who feel jealousy over rafe/ownership over him because I can’t reason with that [he’s a fictional character touch grass I beggg/hj]) is either because she’s boring or annoying. (Or they simply just ignore her completely).

After season 3 I semi-understood those sentiments. She had like 10 minutes of screen time, a couple lines of vague dialogue, and to a casual watcher of the show, she was pretty forgettable. She was kinda boring, compared to everything else happening in the show, and it could be argued that she was annoying– overly flirty, intensely optimistic etc…(though that word irks me a bit, especially when talking about female characters). I personally didn’t think any of that, I loved her!! But it didn’t irrate me, (as much as it does now), when people didn’t like her.

Moving on to season 4 coming out and I was pleased with her screen time and her development. Which is why I don’t get the “Sofia is so boring” comments?

Her character is cemented as a direct comparison to Rafe. She’s good, kind, moral, sweet. And I’m not just saying that. We see her ire in s4x04 at the beach, she’s repulsed at the idea of “going behind her boyfriends back”, she helps Rafe unselfishly (giving him advice, prompting him to talk to Sarah, consoling him after Ward’s passing) and she loves her family. We see her character become fleshed out. Her arc is interesting, as she transitions from being a good, devout girlfriend, to betraying Rafe, then dealing with the clear guilt and departure from her morals.

Remember interesting doesn’t always equal loud, brash, combative. It’s disheartening to see people equate boringness to someone who is quiet, gentle, meditative. And even then, she isn’t a pushover. She still has strength. She doesn’t shy away from showing her disdain in s4x04 (I so wish we had the deleted scene), and when she feels attacked, she doesn’t just take it– she retaliates.

She’s smart too. More so than Rafe. She smelled Hollis’ scam a mile away. She’s astute– eavesdropping on the club goers conversation whilst she works to get the dirt on Groff and Hollis. She’s business savvy– there’s a reason why Rafe always goes to her for advice (and listens to it!!)

Her big heart is what leads to her downfall. She loves Rafe, despite all the rumours tied to his name. She sees him for what he shows her, choosing to believe him and have faith in him instead of listening to her rationale and staying away from ‘bad Rafe Cameron’. And I think that’s so beautiful.

You can like it or dislike it, but I don’t understand how it’s boring?

And then people calling her annoying– how?

‘Idk she just is I don’t like her’ – don’t want to be screaming misogyny like the boy who cries wolf, but sometimes you gotta call it out for what it is🤷🏽‍♀️Like Rafe is objectively more annoying.

And if you think she’d be more interesting if she was more ‘badass’ and ‘strong’ and ‘cooler’, like no offence (truly no offence) but it’s giving “2010s heroine, not like other girls, I can fight, I can sometimes be a bitch, I’m not a sweet bubbly girl– that’s disgusting” typa energy. Or if you wanted her to be more sexier, or have a maneater quality– that just seems really reductive and archetypal imo.

Like just because she wasn’t what you wanted/expected, doesn’t mean she was a bad character. Like yes could’ve been developed more, but she’s literally a side character in an ensemble cast– she got a lot more than all the other side characters.

Like people can create cool and in depth headcanons/lore/development for Barry (who I love! This is not an attack on him) but can’t for Sofia? And he’s only seen with Rafe. There’s not a lot of canon information about his life. Like he’s a drug dealer, he lives on the cut, he used to be in the army and now he catches fish on a boat. There’s no real arc for him, he supports Rafe’s story. Which Sofia also does, but she gets a family backstory, she’s seen interacting with characters outside of Rafe, she has an individual arc that affects only her and not Rafe– yet she doesn’t get that same fanon treatment. Instead she’s denigrated for being too boring, being too annoying, being too meek. Like female characters being held to a different standard to male ones makes me so upset.

(Idk this was a whole rant, if you disagree with me I’d love to hear you out. But I tried to be objective about this. Like yes it makes it easier for me to like her because I’m in love with Fiona Palomo, but in such a big and active fandom, it’s strange to me how little love she gets? Does the pre eminence of x reader fics contribute to this? Probably. Ugh idk I just felt like complaining tbh😓)

Like look at herrrr she’s a cutieeee

[verpineshatterrifle]

sorry this is like, weeks after you asked, the holidays kicked my ass and then i got sick

so what repcomm does to address order 66 is establish throughout all four books leading up to it that the clones will follow orders, not because they don't have free will, not because they're mind controlled, but because following orders in a war is what makes you a soldier, it very often saves your life

they dont do any of the shit in tcw/tbb where roughly every other episode some character disobeys a direct lawful order likely meant to protect them, and the fact that they disobeyed is what saves the day (i am looking specifically at omega)

this reblog has a whole bunch of book quotes about how following orders is like. not optional. and actually good

repcomm also does some interesting stuff with the relationship of jedi and clones- the book series get a lot of hate for 'jedi bashing' but i really don't think that's fair. many of the primary characters are critical of the jedi order, but there isn't a single jedi character in the series that's actually treated as a full antagonist

basically, the series raises some very interesting questions about why exactly jedi, who are not trained as military officers, are in charge of an army suddenly. geonosis casualties are extremely high (1/3 of the entire army, 1/2 of the commando squads) specifically because the jedi had no idea what the hell they were doing with military tactics. the main character jedi spend the series trying their best to learn, acknowledging when their clone officers should be the ones calling the shots, being useful where they can. the series does a lot with subverting the command structure in interesting ways, how far you can really push that, when you can't. bardan jusik (a general) acts like an officer as little as he can possibly get away with while kal skirata (a sergeant) regularly pushes generals around. etain tur mukan (general) spends a lot of the series desperately trying to grow into that role. arligan zey (general, jedi master) is treated as a bit of a problem specifically because as head of the spec ops brigade he can't take that back seat role even if he wants to

so you have the clones who are to some extent aware that while the jedi have magic powers, their military qualifications are... somewhat lacking, and now we all just have to kind of deal with that as best we can

long story short, order 66 in repcomm is one of 150 contingency orders that every clone officer has memorized. it's not a sleeper agent activation phrase. there's stuff in there about killing/arresting the chancellor too, if necessary. in fact, here's all the known orders:

so in the books, when order 66 comes through, it's a lawful order directly from the supreme chancellor, communicating that the jedi are now acting against the republic, and must be stopped using lethal force. because what else are you going to do with extremely powerful magic space wizards with mind powers?? 'capture alive' isn't realistic if the jedi have turned on the republic

and then quite a few of the clones actually do disobey the order. i don't want to spoil anything directly in case you read the series, but omega squad is completely doing their own thing during order 66, a certain arc captain makes a certain choice of his own, delta squad is on kashyyyk, bardan is losing his mind trying to locate etain, it's absolute havoc

(the books also show you the battle of coruscant on the ground and just. damn. damn. it hits hard. really hard.)

idk it just makes me sad- that the version where men whose emotional journeys, relationships with their officers, militaristic mindset, intense battle fatigue, the hopes and dreams they manage to have and the doubts and questions they barely dare to voice even to each other... we see all that, and then they have to make a choice- obey a lawful order given by the supreme commander to perfect soldiers, or do the impossibly difficult, unthinkable thing, and as the man that the republic doesn't believe you are, disobey that order because some small doubtful part of you hopes that it's wrong?

also the extreme irony that the only real hope the jedi had of surviving order 66 was to either 1- refuse to play the game (bardan jusik took this option and was only capable of doing so because he was broken down to the point where he couldn't remain a general AND he had somewhere else to go and something useful to do, this is simply not possible for most jedi) or 2- consistently, for three years, despite what the republic and the war needs, despite what the men themselves want and are comfortable with, despite your own exhaustion and moral crisis, treat the clone soldiers whose lives are under your command, with nothing less than full respect and dignity and hope that when they're told you're a traitor and they need to kill you that they'll think twice

it makes me SO SAD that this was all trashed for mind control trope simply because a kid's show can't fit that much nuance and depth in it

here is my biggest complaint about the animated star wars shows (the clone wars and the bad batch, no comment on rebels)

before i even get started, i know these are kids shows told in 20 minute episodes, and that the reason for my beef is because the 2008 clone wars show was focusing primarily on the jedi, and didnt have the time/wasnt interested in treating the GAR as an actual military and needed to appeal to a young audience. i get that. i do. now with that out of the way im going to bitch and moan unapologetically about how X Thing Ruined Star Wars, because that's the fandom's national sport, ok?

the shows treat the GAR like a high school. everyone is somewhat childish (to appeal to the young audience). disobeying orders is something cool heroes do. (ANAKIN.) improvisation is treated as a fun and cool tactic that generally works out after a whacky adventure, not something you do as a last resort when your actual plan fails. main character's competency is primarily shown through their enemies (and sometimes their minor character allies) suddenly becoming inexplicably stupid.

'good soldiers follow orders' becomes a terrifying signal that a character has lost their agency. 'when have we ever followed orders?' becomes a rallying cry and heroic last words.

when youve written a military THAT badly, how are you supposed to force your beloved characters to follow Order 66? well, you're kind of stuck with mind control.

it didnt have to be this way 😭😭

[sturnsmadl]

mute 6.

< 1!! 2!! 3!! 4!! 5!!

contains-chris being a dick, angst, mentions of punching (no actual), use of y/n, basically full on betrayal, idk what else!

pairing- grumpy!chris x mute!reader.

a/n at the bottom.

chris' pov!!

im finally back off suspension and ive really only thought about y/n the whole week, after a long meeting with the principal and the behaviour team i was finally allowed to go back into school like normal.

As i walk to my class from the office and at the worst time y/n comes out of the bathroom, i sigh as she comes towards me. i cant be caught talking to her, especially after what nate said before i punched him.

y/n's pov!!

"hi chris..you're back.. finally." you weakly smile at him as he glares down at you with a look which makes him look like he could kill you.

"i am. no thanks to you." he replies in the coldest tone possible.

you look confused not only at his tone but the words themself

"sorry?" he huffs at your confusion and raises his voice a bit.

"you should be. it was your fault." with no further explanation he barges past you, going to his next class.

chris' pov!!

i attempt to calm myself down but i don't know why i was mad in the first place, as i do i get tapped on the shoulder and i turn around to see a random girl i've never saw before looking up at me.

"can i help you?" im not in the mood to talk to anyone right now but she doesn't look to phased by my cold tone unlike y/n did.

"im amelia." her gaze doesnt shift from me for even a second as she speaks with a lot of confidence.

"okay..?"

she huffs and rolls her eyes at my confusion

"u speak to y/n?"

"i have..not about anyone called amelia though.."

"hm. what'd she speak about, nate?" she says that with a tone im not a fan of, why has she got so much attitude?

i just nod to confirm whats she saying"

"of course she was. can never seem to get my brothers name out her stupid mouth clearly"

"okay- im sorry. who are you?" i start to get annoyed at the way shes speaking about y/n even if i had just been rude to her myself.

"i used to be friends with her, biggest regret."

"what happened between you guys?" i ask curiously, y/n seems so sweet. she couldnt have done anything too bad.

"what didn't is the question."

the bell rings, interrupting what im about to be told yet again just like it did the first time i spoke to y/n.

"ill tell you when i next see you. bye chris." i watch amelia walk off and sigh as i yet again don't get the full story.

"fucking bell." i huff and look down at my phone for the time but i see multiple texts from slim, fuck.

a/n- i hate this sm but i have quite a good idea for 7 so this is kinda the build up ig :)

taglist! @bellaonthelow @hopelessfawn @moonk1ss3d @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @fratbrochrisgf @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chrisss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii @stvrlighht @asherrisrandom @amelia-sturniolo3 @pvssychicken @owensbabygirl @ncm9696 @sturniolo-fann @watchu-mean-baby-keem @babyalliah-777 @imtheprett @coochiedestroyer1 @scarlettbitches @slutniolo @idkwhatthisis2009 @anabanabanana @chriscorqutte @slvttie-zx @hi-7-hi @sophand4n4 @pasteldreams

[kepler-station]

MY LITTLE REASON WHY ⟡ VIRTUE OF INNOCENCE (CRK AU) ONESHOT

MY LITTLE REASON WHY, YOU MAKE ME WANT TO TRY LOVING YOU ıllı. "when dark enchantress cookie takes away the power of the five beasts, they are forced to crawl back to the ancients... and their old friend, the beast of sorrow."

— rq by @damsel-balladeer, thank you for requesting, and late happy new year!

— idk why i wanted to put this in here but blue diamond is the poster child of this au, lol. not what reader looks like, just the poster child. (this does mean im writing any virtue of innocence au stuff with fem!reader in mind but nowhere does it say any fem!reader descriptions so this is like gn!reader, thx.)

MY LITTLE REASON WHY — STEVEN UNIVERSE ıllı.

· · ͟͟͞͞꒰ TW. short, very short.

Inhale, exhale. A lot of mixed feelings went through [Sorrow]'s head.

Not so long ago, they let out their inner anger and sorrow at the group of cookies they now call 'their friends', and even that group of six so-called ancient heroes don't seem to warm up to them just yet, only the two who have been there when they turned and that pink hero.

And just now, their enemy, Dark Enchantress Cookie, that old hag who had attempted to wake them up not so long after the crack in the Silver Tree woke them up, stole their old friend's power and magic right then and there.

After all that happened, they just wanted to rest and do nothing. Take a break from life and be a normal Cookie for once, but no! The witches can't grant that for them, not even just this once.

Minutes prior, the six of the Ancient Heroes stood in front of Dark Enchantress Cookie's whereabouts, weapons in tow, abilities ready to fire, shields on standby for coming attacks.

Many feelings, good and bad danced about in their heart. Guilt, sorrow, grief, happiness, empathy, anger, clemency, relief, contempt, scorn, and everything in between. They shed many tears during the battle under your cloak, their blue aura spread not too often but it sure happened, enough to get a hit out of Dark Encantress while she sobbed in their flooding emotions.

Seeing their hurt friends made them sob tears of mixed emotions; they can't even say whether it was happy or sad tears, but through their blurred vision they saw their old friends. They had fallen one by one out of their cages after the Cake Witch grabbed them, immobilized them and took their powers away, and their new friends didn't let their guard down... until the blue aura returned.

They couldn't help it, they knew very well they could control it to use it offensively but...

While [Sorrow] shouted their feelings out at them for not standing up to that bitch of a villain on their own knowing damn well they could have crumbled her right then and there, they fell down to their knees and sobbed uncontrollably. Any form of magic was disabled and even the Soul Jam of your friends were blocked by the sheer intensity of [Sorrow]'s emotions. They weaponized your aura to make them subordinate and docile, knowing damn well between everyone here, they were the most powerful.

Though eventually White Lily Cookie was able to get through and make her stop, they fell silent and pensive throughout the journey home. Even separating the seas for a pathway home to Crispia was hard through tears and uncontrollable inner anger.

Inhale, exhale. Throughout the journey home, they discussed their next move now knowing that Dark Enchantress Cookie has the powers of the Beast Cookies in her hands, and they grew terrified that she would probably be after [Sorrow] due to their power.

Remember that their corrupted powers as Grief were never truly taken away and new power was just bestowed upon them through their Soul Jam, the Light of Healing, instead of purifying their corrupted magic. Perhaps the witches wanted them to recover on their own, this was their journey after all.

"Then that means..." White Lily Cookie started, trailing off as she looks down, horrified. "Dark Enchantress Cookie is probably coming for [Sorrow] next." Leading the group through the continent back to the Vanilla Kingdom, Pure Vanilla Cookie continued with a pensive expression (as pensive as he can get, atleast). Dark Cacao and Golden Cheese had their eyes on the Beasts.

As the awakened ones, they chose to guard the Beasts and make sure they won't be trying anything, even if they were powerless. Eternal Sugar looked like she was going to cry at the revelation but she looked sleepy still. The others stayed pensive and silent, certain fiery and grumpy cookies muttering under their breaths before a golden spear was pushed into their face, and [Sorrow] was next to a comforting Hollyberry Cookie, serious expression with teary eyes.

"Shh, Inhale and exhale, my friend. Deep breaths. 1,2..." Hollyberry tried calming down the Beast of Sorrow, removing their hood to reveal their messy hair underneath. Combing/running her fingers through their hair, Hollyberry continued to comfort the almost distraught cookie just as they returned safely.

They didn't let the Beasts go just yet, they could very well still do something, but they kept tabs on them, very very carefully.

That night, [Sorrow] snuck out. Under their cloak, they melted the lock using their blue aura (transmuted onto their hand) and stood in front of their powerless, wailing "friends". It wasn't just because they were being too loud crying so loudly, it was because they also missed them.

"So you escaped your silver prison and failed to save yourselves even when Dark Enchantress Cookie openly threatened and took away your powers. Do you have no shame? Come! Answer for what you've done!" With tears in their eyes, they demanded answers. Inside, they truly cared and were happy they survived, but this could've been avoided if...

"Sweetheart, we... We just..." Eternal Sugar couldn't even answer, Shadow Milk tried manipulating them, even paired with a measly string that could barely touch their droopy, long robes, into letting them free and giving them their Soul Jam for power the aura beat them first. "Do you have no shame? You abandoned me for power, and when you come crawling back to me thousands of years later, you only crave more? That you didn't save yourselves because you believed she would grant you eternal power over all of Cookiekind?"

Their ominousness was only interrupted by a quiet voice. A gentle voice paired with that familiar lily scent A knowing White Lily Cookie wasn't sleeping at all, far from it. Inside the greenhouse of.... where she apparently slept because a gazebo surrounded by lilies in a garden is better than a bed, she brainstormed plans to beat Dark Enchantress Cookie and to find a way to block her advances of getting [Sorrow]'s Soul Jam too. However, she was interrupted by familiar tears as it stained her papers under her, a faint blue aura surrounding the atmosphere.

Faint footsteps were detected by the Beast of Sorrow as their eyes tightened again. "I shall talk to you tomorrow then. Stay where you are and repent for what you have done." Blue water tendrils pierced the small windows above and the walls of white chocolate, vanilla and waffles, effectively trapping the Beasts, paired with lavender chains ensuring further entrapment that silenced their wails and cries. Their robe followed behind them as they stepped out, bubbling the prison before they were faced with a concerned and knowing White Lily Cookie.

"I... heard what happened. Do you want tea? I can brew some for the two of us. You can stay with me in my greenhouse if you'd like." She stretched out her hand before [Sorrow] took it, holding her hand tightly as they walked together, [Sorrow] removing their hood and walking slowly with the lily-scented hero to the greenhouse.

They smiled to themselves. They were glad their friends were atleast still alive.

And perhaps, that old, abandoned version of themselves of long ago were still alive too.

[aaksuitac]

[02:46] time, and a bomb.

wc: around 1k (wrote this in my phone… srry, idk exactly!)

cw: SPOILERS: SEASON 2, EPISODE 9. heavy topics mentioned (in metaphors, but still). suicide.

a/n: so… can’t say why i ended up with this sad fucker of a post (also first post of the year omg), but after scrolling down ig with so much arcane in my feed, the ‘ekko saves jinx’ scene just kept on showing up and my brain turned on writing mode. and i loooove the line ‘always a dance with you’, i’ll write less depressing timebomb in the future.

she thinks maybe she should sniff, but not only it wouldn’t help, but she thinks it disgusting, almost as yucky as the stupid clog in her nose or the cheeky pain it provides. she can’t really breathe with her nose for that matter, so her mouth remains parted, her body limp, the only motion that happens not conscious, for she can’t control the way tears roll down her cheeks or how her breathing moves her chest with each light expansion of her lungs.

her ears are wet. that, she finds disgusting too, but as stated before, she can’t control the paths that tears carve and follow once they come out. and…. she could keep going, but she wouldn’t know how to keep on describing what is happening. she finds herself a bit lost on that regard.

who is she, again? she can’t fight back the need to sigh. on that regard, she’s lost, too. she loses, again —ironic, maybe—. she can’t stop losing, can she? the attempt to stand up is there, but, then again, why would she? she finds the pattern that the light above her head makes far more interesting. its broken nature resounds with her. or maybe not. maybe that’s not actually a word, but who cares. the light is still broken either way. and so is she.

she doesn’t have a name anymore. not one. which is stupid, because she has more than one name. but then again, she doesn’t. names don’t mean anything? wrong. when you name something, you name it so you can build up something on its place. its the way language is constructed. a table isn’t a table because it is named that way, but say table and you’ll only think of one particular object.

say powder. what comes to mind?

say jinx. what comes to mind?

the tears that have fallen stopped. no more tears come out. maybe she should indulge and grab the glass of water from the table that… —she may as well call that woman by her name, after all those years, but we’re not going to use it now. names never really helped her anyways— that… is there. but she would have to move.

and she has moved enough now. and somehow, after all that, she’s still. her head feels heavy —which is strange, considering the unfamiliar lack of blue weight— and the world is somehow spinning, even if she’s only stopped moving a while back. she wouldn’t know how to make it stop spinning. before, she didn’t know how to make it shut up, and somehow, now, there’s quiet.

she wonders if… if there was someone who had always listened to this type of quiet before —she knew there was (had been). but we are not going to say names. we don’t like names—. she hopes that she liked the quiet.

she found it strange. the quiet, that is. almost as unfamiliar as the hair around her. it was strange to think it wasn’t hers now. sure, it was, but not propperly. almost like a name. like her many nicknames, but mostly her names.

the streaks that the tears left are now dry. there’s a somewhat sticky feeling they left off, and her eyes are itchy. maybe she should take the glass of water from the table and drink it. maybe then she could keep on crying.

was crying going to help? she couldn’t tell. or, maybe she did. maybe it was easier thinking that she couldn’t possibly know just for the sake of crying. for the fact that then she could possibly stand up, chug the water, lay back down and keep on crying. even if her headache worsened because of it. maybe all that was easier than choosing to stand up and picking up the grenade next to it.

or maybe not. a leap of faith is all it takes. but for that, she has to move.

she doesn’t stand up yet. her tired brain thinks, what would she do —she as in herself, not those other names that roam around her head and used to speak up in volumes she couldn’t control—, and it’s a great question. one that she could crack the answer to, but she’s not going to, because she’s tired.

j—no, no names— is fucking tired. tired of everything. tired of the ways everyone speaks. tired of the sound of everyone’s voices, because she’s been around lots of people these days and she hates every single one of their voices. how they speak. their mannerisms. the only one she didn’t hate couldn’t speak— a fact not hard to fucking guess why, leaving other facts behind.

and she’s still tired. tired of how hard she kept on trying. tired of how she thought that for one fucking second, maybe she wasn’t tired. maybe she had been but she had just… stopped being tired. and now, she’s back to being tired, because nothing ever lasts forever. tired of how that fucking fat-handed idiot wants her to keep trying —again, no names—, but, maybe, the thing she’s tired of the most is of how tired she is.

she never wanted to be tired, did she? she tried not to be. others saw her grow tired and never acted out, did they?

his silhouettte flashes the back of her mind. he never got to see her this tired. not for long. just before he… he died. maybe then he deserved to be k… to die. he… he just died.

she hums in her head. dying. staying. not moving. are all those synonyms? perhaps. her eyes grow more itchy as she keeps on still. maybe if she stops moving for a while longer, she could just die, too.

she closes her eyes. maybe dying could be the last ever motion she has to do. maybe then she could stop the cycle of blood that has been shed thanks to her. the endless cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants that keep on falling limp and still wherever she crosses. yeah. if she doesn’t move anymore, maybe no one else will have to die.

she knows. she doesn’t think others are aware of said knowledge within her, but somehow she is. she knows a part of her knows. and she learned it the hard way. no one is ever truly safe, and she knows it. nothing ever happens without destiny’s hands meddling on it.

every action's an act of creation. she doesn’t know where she read that before, but if so, maybe then, she could, for a change, throw away her shot and stop. throw away her shot by aiming her last one directly at her reflection, not to break her mirror —not again—, but to… to break. to break… her. the act that is hold by two useless names she refuses to use, the act that somehow now holds both names and still has none, because this kind of one plus one was never meant to add up and equal two. and, now… to stop… stop altogether.

she hasn’t heard anything in a while, and maybe that is why she hears eveything with more clarity now. as if she isn’t inside of her own body, but merely dictating its every more from somewhere outside of it.

she doesn’t take the glass of water that sevika left a while back. whoever she is now, she picks the grenade. she’s going to do it. and the sentence isn’t to find someone to get her out of it or to encourage herself. it’s a mere sentence. a death sentence like it’s never been.

she hears. the ticking and clicking of the grenade in her hands. the weight that her steps cause on the metallic surface below her that makes it to creak, and how it echoes.

maybe the thought of that word is why, when her fingers graze the trigger, a voice she feels she hasn’t heard in so long —too long?— shows up unexpected.

“wait!”

ekko’s voice echoes. it’s a funny sentence, but she has no time.

she blinks away whatever his voice attempted to awaken from her insides, she forces herself to not look at him, but at the grenade. there’s a breath that she holds from whatever it was that remains awake because of his presence.

“get out of here, ekko.” she hasn’t spoken in so long, her voice feels like she maybe should’ve taken the glass of water. too late for that.

“i- i just wanna talk to you pow… jinx.”

those are the wrong names. its a stupid sentence. why would he call her powder after all this time. why would he, of all people, slip up like that, after the many, many times she corrected him?

maybe… maybe that’s why. maybe it’s because he knows… she isn’t none of those names anymore. maybe it’s because he’s always known. because it’s always been him.

her fingers keep gripping the grenade, and weirdly, she feels like the trigger has been pulled several times before.

“always a dance with you,” ekko pants.

the boy saviour. that is funny. maybe names suck, but she really is good with nicknames.

she never thought words could fix things. after all, one of the things she does is breaking, not mending.

guess now she owes him a dance.

~k.k. (☆) try out the little game below!

a/n 2: sad topics aside, to make this somewhat less depressing, game time! find the spiderman: into the spiderverse reference. not hardcore enough? find the hamilton reference. harder challenge? find the tears for fears reference. more, you say? find the reference to ekko’s ‘you ever want to just stay in one moment?’ line. dm me or send an ask if you want clues. if i get bored or you guys actually indulge maybe i’ll reblog this with the answers. and maybe make these games with my other posts, because it’s funny sneaking references. welp. have fun!

aaksuitac, january 2025 ©

[stuckinmymind22]

playlists | velvet connection

pair: portgas d. ace x afab reader (she/her)

modern au | multimedia | musician ace | more info on story

tags: drinking (reader participates), smoking, unhealthy amounts of alcohol consumption (drink responsibly)

mdni: please - look i can't tell you how to live your life but this isn't for you pls avoid thx

wc: 7.7k

excerpt:

"On stage he exudes charisma, it seems like he is in his element. Like much of the crowd, you are not immune to his charms, he’s almost entrancing up there. You’ve always found it attractive to see people so passionate about what they are doing, and it is clear that he is loving this. He is beaming. A smile like no other graces his face. He has the crowd wrapped around his finger and he knows it. ... You eventually allow your eyes to drift back to Ace, who catches them and sends you a wink. The simple action makes your heart flutter in a way that you know is problematic. Instead of showing the way he’s impacting you, you give him a short laugh in response. Even at a distance you can tell that his eyes light up as he smiles into the mic."

a/n: v excited to start this story, rn i'm not planning on it being much longer than 15 chapters but we will see how that goes when i wrote this i had just finished sabaody (had a breakdown) and idrfk who sabo is so idk why i included him but i did, if he's ooc pls ignore, thx

wc: 7.7k

important: reader works in live music there's a couple of technical terms that aren't crucial to know, like you can understand the story without knowing them but i wanted to include them

Tech rider = document saying what the artist is bringing and what equipment they need from the venue

In ear monitors/in ears = how a musician hears themselves while playing on stage, has noise cancellation (tbh i take some creative liberty with how they work)

just so you know half of this is how live music works (well more than half tbh) and the other half i made up source: i work in live events not in production though

song(s): they haven't really started playlists so no official song but this one kinda sets the vibe of what we got going

"I know you felt it that velvet connection" - Velvet Connection by Moody Joody

You walk into the old venue that you call work where you are a live sound engineer. The small place is barely staying open, relying on subsidies from being a historic site and sales of alcohol, but you love it anyways. You’ve been working here for the past two years and really enjoy both the job and your coworkers.

You were running a little late but you came bearing gifts, you stopped at a nearby coffee shop and grabbed some drinks. Ussop, the other live sound engineer, happily grabs his as he reads through the tech rider to see what you will need for the night’s show. You really should have looked it over before you got here. It is the first time in a while that you were going into a show blind, all you know is that it is a local act, beyond that you’re clueless. As soon as Usopp leaves the booth you spot a familiar head of red running your way.

“Why’re you here so early,” you question Nami, one of the venue’s bartenders, amused with how fast she dashed over to you. She pulls her drink out of the cup holder and thanks you.

“I had to come in for a delivery,” she answers dismissively before her entire demeanor shifts to excitement, “Anyways, are you excited for tonight?”

“...why would I be?” you ask with confusion.

“Don’t you know who’s playing tonight?” she looks disappointed and sighs when you shake your head no, “I can’t believe you don’t know. Tonight Luffy’s brother is playing.”

“That’s cool,” you say, unsure what to make of her enthusiasm.

“No, you don’t understand, Luffy is playing with him,” Nami says, brimming with joy. Luffy is an energetic coworker of yours who normally controls the lights, he’s also Usopp’s roommate. You love him but he isn’t exactly known for his musical talent, in fact it was quite the opposite, he quite literally cannot hold a note.

“Oh…wow,” you say, not sure how to feel about this information, “Let’s just hope he plays the drums, he can keep a beat but anything else… I’ll make sure it’s tuned really well. But maybe he’ll surprise us?”

“I mean I hope so, but Luffy?” she gets called back to the bar before she can finish her thought.

Suddenly interested in the act, you check the show’s schedule and see that their name is Ace and The Spades. You think that you’ve heard the name before but you aren’t entirely sure what their sound is. You’ll find out soon enough.

Looking through the tech rider for the night you see that they are bringing a lot of their own equipment, which shows that they’ve probably been performing for a while and also means that there isn’t too much for you to do until they get here. They should be arriving any moment, so there’s not much more you can do but wait to help them unload.

To your annoyance, the time that they were supposed to unload comes and goes, setting back your schedule. It’s nice to have that extra time padded in in case something goes wrong, but running late is also something going wrong you suppose. Before you can get truly irritated, Luffy comes bounding through the artist door carrying nearly an entire drum kit by himself, making him look like a pack mule. Honestly, it was so impressive you nearly missed the two other guys who came in with him.

“Sorry that we’re running late Y/N,” Luffy says when he sees you. You quickly move to help Luffy with the drums. “This one fell asleep,” he says, using his newly freed hand to point at the man in an orange cowboy hat, who promptly sets down a guitar case to hit Luffy on the head. 

“Ow, Ace, that was mean,” Luffy says, rubbing his skull. So this is his brother you think. There's no doubting that he’s attractive, with dark raven hair and freckles that dot his face. He is quite a bit taller than Luffy, but around the same height as the other guy, who you forgot about until now. 

“Well you’re here now,” you say with a smile, quickly helping Luffy with the kit. “I had no idea you were playing tonight, that’s so cool,” you say to your coworker who laughs happily in response.

“Isn’t it?” Luffy says cheerfully, putting the drums down on the stage, “Oh, before I forget this is Ace and Sabo,” he says pointing to the dark haired one and the blond respectively, “Ace, Sabo, this is Y/N, she’s on production.

 “I need to go make sure that the lights are programmed right and show Usopp how to use them.” Luffy calls the man in question over and they both disappear to the tech booth.

You start unpacking the drum set and when Ace approaches you, “You don’t have to do that, I can do it.”

“It is quite literally my job,” you say to him, trying to hide your annoyance, “it’ll take me twenty minutes max.”

“I know, I just feel bad for being late,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

 “If you really want something to do, you bring those five mics over here,” you say pointing to the ones for the drums just off stage. He successfully brings four of them to you while you work on assembling the kit. 

“Fuck,” you hear in Ace’s direction following a crash. The mic stand is in two parts, the stand is knocked over on the floor and its arm Ace holds in his hand. You sigh and stand up, ready to fix it.

“That happens it's okay” you say walking to him. When you get there you take the arm from his hand and pick up the stand and attempt to reassemble it, but it isn’t working. You examine the parts only to realize that the stand is broken broken. “Well, shit” you mumble.

“I am so sorry, I just picked it up and it fell apart,” Ace says guilt laces his voice.

“From the looks of it this was probably bound to happen, I’ll go find another one,” you say before you disappear into the depths of backstage looking for another overhead mic stand. You search everywhere you can think of but cannot find a replacement.

“Hey Usopp,” you call for his attention running towards him, “Do we have another overhead somewhere special that I forgot about?”

“No, that was our backup, remember when that one artist broke ours and dipped a few months ago before getting us a new one,” he says, “What happened?”

“One broke,” you sigh in defeat.

“Well, shit,” he responds.

“That’s what I said.”

“I can probably rig something up for the night,” Usopp offers, always ready to jerry rig something.

“I’ve tried that before and broke multiple drumheads”

“How did you break multiple, it just goes above one,” Luffy butts in.

“Because I’m stubborn,” you say to him and turn back to Usopp, “I can just go to Larson’s real quick.” You offer to go to the local music store a few blocks down. Usopp agrees, telling you he’ll hold down the fort but to be quick. 

On your way out the door, Ace stops you, “What’s the verdict?”

“Gotta go get a new one,” you admit.

“Let me come with you.”

“I can do it by myself,” you push back.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says with a charming grin, “But I broke the other one, so I should help fix it.”

“I told you, you didn’t break it, but if you insist, let’s go,” not willing to waste time arguing.

The two of you make your way out the building and he follows you down the city sidewalk. In this light you can really see the freckles that adorn his face, they give him an almost boyish charm. Realizing that you’ve been staring, you clear your throat and turn your eyes to the path in front of you.

“So Luffy’s your brother, huh,” you say awkwardly trying to start a conversation as you walk.

“Yeah, he’s my little brother,” Ace says, putting his hands in his pockets.

“It’s cool that he’s in your band, what does he play?” you ask.

“He plays the drums,” Ace responds. Called it you think. He continues, “When I first started playing live he got really excited and kept asking me to be the drummer. It didn't take much for me to fold. He’s my brother and I love him. If it makes him happy, I’ll let him play for me anytime.”

“That's actually very nice of you,” you say nodding.

“What? Were you expecting me to be mean, Doll?” Ace asks you with a playful grin.

“Doll?” you say, raising your eyebrow.

“I thought it seemed fitting,” he shrugs.

“What about Sabo? What does he play,” you question.

“Sabo does a little bit of everything, mainly bass and keys though.”

“Ah so a multi-talented king I see,” you joke, causing Ace to laugh. He has a nice laugh, you think to yourself, the kind that makes you want to laugh too.

“How’d you get into music in the first place?” you question. 

“There’s not really one specific answer to that,” he starts, “I guess I’ve always enjoyed music. Around middle school I started playing guitar and by the time I got to high school, I was writing song after song - granted most of them were absolute garbage,” he chuckles, joy sparking in his eyes, it’s clear he loves talking about music.

“Eventually, I got better at writing and I knew it was all I wanted to do. I had to stop for a few years when my grandpa forced me to join the navy,” the bitterness in his voice is evident.

“But I’m back,” he says cheerfully as looks at you and his smile grows.

Before he can ask you the same question you arrive at Larson’s and your conversation is put on hold. You know exactly what you need and where it is so you head over to the mic stand section picking out a cheap replacement that’s decent enough quality. You bring it to the register and by the time you’re ready to pay Ace already has his card on the reader.

“What are you doing?” you question him.

“Paying,” he responds.

“I can see that, I’m asking why.”

“Because I broke it and I feel bad.”

“I already told you you didn’t break it,” you say with a sigh, “from the looks of it it was on borrowed time, the threading was basically non existent.”

He offers you a smile and takes the stand from the counter turning on his heel to the door. You have no choice but to follow him.

“You know I would’ve been reimbursed for that, right,” you say as you step into stride with him.

“You can reimburse me by taking me to dinner sometime,” he flirts. You can’t help the butterflies that form in your stomach. First it was calling you “Doll” now he’s asking you to dinner? Is this just how he is?  You think to yourself.

“I suppose that’s a fair trade,” you say. His smirk is triumphant.

~~~~~~

The two of you arrive back at the venue laughing as you walk in the door. You know you need to get back to work, but you also don’t want to stop being with him, you’ve really enjoyed being around him so far.

“Have you thought about where you’re taking me to dinner,” he jokes, hoping to talk to you more.

“Where would you want to go?” you try turning the choice on him.

“You’re taking me so you decide. While you’re thinking about it, how about you give me your number,” he says with a charming smile, pulling out his phone. You give him your phone and he hands you his to put your contact information in, you keep it simple, just your name and number, and give it back to him. 

He looks at his phone and shakes his head, changing something about the information you put in, but you don't have time to question because Usopp runs up to the both of you and takes the mic stand from you – well from Ace – before he runs back to stage to set it up.

“Back to work” you say with a hint of regret.

“Aye aye captain,” Ace says with a goofy smile and salute. You turn on your heel, concealing your grin and go get to work.

A switch is flipped inside of Ace during soundcheck, as soon as you start he becomes surprisingly professional. Despite being late earlier, it seems like he doesn’t like to waste people’s time. He’s articulating exactly what he needs, something that you really only see in seasoned artists. He even helps translate for his brothers, namely Luffy. (“the clicky thing is too quiet,” he complains. “the metronome,” Ace clarifies).

For someone who literally works in the industry, you would think that he would know some of the technical terms, but it seems not. When working on the mix for his in ears.

“Why does it sound fuzzy,” Luffy asks. You hear it too and your eyes scan the stage looking for the cause

“Luffy, how are you getting feedback?”Ace snickers, instantly understanding what his sibling is saying. All eyes go to the culprit who for some reason had taken out one of his in ears and had it dangerously close to the mic.

“Luffy, you gotta keep those in,” Ace laughs even harder.

“But I hate them, they’re uncomfy” Luffy pouts and you struggle to hide your smile.

“How? They were literally made for you,” Ace says tired as you stifle a giggle, “You gotta keep them in.” Luffy grumbles but does as he is told.

You don’t get a full picture of their sound, which is common with sound check, because they only play bits and pieces of their songs but as they cycle between them you can tell that Ace has a nice voice.

After soundcheck is over you manage to catch up to Ace. “You're an excellent translator for Luffy, maybe we should keep you around,” you joke.

“It’s years of practice,” he responds.

~~~~~~

The pull that Ace surprises you, people seem to be flooding into the venue as soon as the doors open. You already knew that it was going to be a busier night, but you weren’t expecting this much. You don’t actually remember the last time you saw this place this packed full of bodies. There’s not even an opener so all of these people are here for him. It was so uncharacteristic of this place that the cynic in you can’t help but wonder if Robin had a bunch of tickets comped, giving out free tickets for the bodies, and that’s why it was so full. Something is telling you that this crowd is genuine.

As showtime draws nearer, anticipation bubbles in your stomach, it’s possible that you’re in for an even bigger treat than you thought. When it is finally time for the show to start and they come out on stage you notice that somewhere between now and soundcheck Ace lost his shirt. Goddamn, you think. You knew he was hot before but wow. 

On stage he exudes charisma, it seems like he is in his element. Like much of the crowd, you are not immune to his charms, he’s almost entrancing up there. You’ve always found it attractive to see people so passionate about what they are doing, and it is clear that he is loving this. He is beaming. A smile like no other graces his face. He has the crowd wrapped around his finger and he knows it. 

You’re staring more than you would like to admit, the ways that the muscles in his arms move as he plays the guitar has you in a chokehold. His fingers moving across the fretboard with such ease is placing thoughts that are not safe for work in your head, and it’s that realization that snaps you out of it. 

What the hell are you thinking, you internally scold yourself, first of all he’s Luffy’s brother and that would be weird. Secondly, You. Are. At. Work. 

You forcefully rip your eyes away from him, worried that they’ll remain glued to the man for the rest of the show if you don't. You switch your focus to the monitor and when that gets boring eyes wander the stage and crowd. You’re looking everywhere but him in fear that you won’t be able to pull yourself away if you lay eyes on him again.

Your eyes find Luffy and you remember that you should be supporting your coworker. He actually is pretty decent at drums, he misses a beat every now and then but that’s likely due to how much fun he is having. He wears his trademark boyish grin as he thrashes his head as he plays, causing his hat to fall off, repeatedly. Between songs and during little breaks he is constantly reaching towards his back to put it back on. At least he’s wearing the head strap you snort, thinking of all the times his hat has fallen from the beams as he worked on the lights.

You eventually allow your eyes to drift back to Ace, who catches them and sends you a wink. The simple action makes your heart flutter in a way that you know is problematic. Instead of showing the way he’s impacting you, you give him a short laugh in response. Even at a distance you can tell that his eyes light up as he smiles into the mic.

You can’t deny that he puts on a great show, it seemed to come naturally for him. You’ve seen a lot of performances, but this was something special. It was clear that Robin thought so too. Near the end of the show Robin, who is one of the managers and also the one who books acts, joins you sidestage - you’re pretty sure you know what that means.

“Y/N, how was working with Ace?” Robin asks in a calm voice.

“Great, he’s really professional, I was surprised,” you tell her, intentionally putting a good word for him - not that it isn’t the truth. You can’t lie to yourself, you are hoping that he becomes a regular, you like his company and would want him to be around more. She nods in response, she stays by your side for the rest of the show, which is a good sign.

Right before it ends, Robin asks again, “Do you think that they should come back?” You answer positively a bit too fast, she turns and raises an eyebrow with a small grin. “Okay then, I’ll see what I can do,” she says.

“Great job, Dollface,” Ace says to you, walking off stage, grabbing a towel he left there to wipe off the sweat.

“You were incredible too,” you tell him.

“Really?” he cocks his head, “I felt rusty.”

“If that’s rusty then I can only imagine what you could do at full power,” you tease. He laughs lightly. Robin, who you forgot was still there, has an amused look on her face looking between the two of you, before she whisks Ace off to talk.

You and Usopp start taking down the equipment as the crowd filters out of the venue, you’ve done this so many times together that you don’t even need to communicate. You bring something back to the booth and are surprised to find Luffy there.

“What are you doing here, mister,” you say in a deep authoritative voice, causing the both of you to chuckle.

“Don’t wanna forget the program,” he says holding up a USB stick.

“You can probably just leave it too, I got a feeling we’ll need it again,” you say, unable to keep it in even though it’s not a done deal.

He scratches his neck looking confused, “What do you mean?” he asks. You give him a look, knowing he can figure it out and his eyes widen. “Did Robin-” he stops when you nod with a big smile. He practically vibrates from excitement.

“I knew it would happen!” Luffy says feeling vindicated, “Ace didn’t believe me.” 

You frown, “Why didn’t he believe you?” 

“I don’t know,” he says unsure, “I think he said something about being out of practice?”

You hum in response before switching the subject “I didn’t know you played drums.”

“Thanks, I’m bad at them,” he says with his signature laugh.

“I thought you were really good actually,” you say, giving a heartfelt compliment.

“That was lots of practice,” he says seriously. 

“That’s what it takes to be good at something, you goofball,” you giggle, “How long have you been playing?”

“I think I started when I was like 13? I’m not sure,” Luffy says after thinking hard. “I wanted to spend time with my brothers and this let me do that, plus hitting things is fun” He laughs again, “Anyways, I gotta get going see you later.”

You watch Luffy walk away with a smile, you can see that he’s halfway to the green room when he turns around. “Oh, Y/N,” he nearly shouts as he runs back to you, “I don’t know if Usopp told you but we’re having some people over Saturday cause we don’t have a show. You should come.” He ends up in front of you.

He must be able to tell that you’re a bit hesitant, “Pleeeeeaassee,” he drags out his plea, “Zoro’s on keg and you don’t smoke so you don't need to worry about bringing anything,” he tries to convince you.

“I’ll be there,” you say with a smile

“Yay!” he exclaims, before walking away “see you Saturday Y/N!”

You return the sentiment, but you can’t help but wonder if Ace will be there too. 

Packing up the rest of the equipment goes smoothly and soon enough you’re in the comfort of your own bed when your phone buzzes.

just a quick psa: do not fucking drink like this, binge drinking can and will kill you, you are not invincible please be safe. Have to dial back what they are capable of drinking in universe bc alcohol poisoning exists but this is still you’re in the hospital level binge drinking, like you’re dead drinking please do not do this. <3

Ace feels a little bit out of place in the small apartment, surrounded by his little brother’s friends on a Saturday night. Luffy asked Ace to come over at least a dozen times and he would do anything for the kid, so he plans on sticking around for a little while despite the awkwardness.

He got roped into party prep earlier in the day, which was moving the furniture to the walls and sweeping (“We have to make a good impression,” Usopp, Luffy’s roommate said, “it is very important to any social gathering, and we have the best ones” Luffy reminded him that they had never hosted before with a laugh and Usopp launched himself at the guy, shushing him, claiming that Ace didn’t need to know that). 

When the first person knocks on the door, Luffy flies over to open it. On the other side is a green haired guy holding a quarter keg (this is like 80 bottles/cans of beer and weighs like 90lbs/40kg) with one hand and a bucket of ice in the other like it is nothing. 

“Zoro!” Luffy shouts with glee.

“This should last us most of the night,” the man grunts as he the keg down in the kitchen before tapping the keg and pouring himself a sizable cup. Luffy is right behind him and Ace follows. Soon enough more people trickle into the space, Luffy making sure to introduce Ace to each and every one.

Ace is excited when he sees you enter, he didn’t want to admit it but he was hoping you were going to be there. You came with a redhead that’s introduced to him as Nami, someone who also works with you, Luffy, and Usopp, just at the bar. He tries not to stare as the two of you go and grab drinks while chatting, but he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes off of you. When Nami leaves you to go talk to other people Ace moves quickly to take the chance to swoop in and talk to you.

“Hey, Doll,” he says as he approaches, you turn to meet him and a smile blossoms on your face, “I was wondering if I’d see you here.” He likes the way your cheeks heat up from the nickname and he really likes the smile you give him when you see him.

“Hi Ace,” you say, almost sounding nervous - is he imagining that or does he have that effect on you?

“Know where you’re taking me to eat yet?” Ace asks playfully, bumping your shoulder with his own.

“Not yet, I think I gotta get to know you more first so I can pick a good place after you saved my ass,” you say, “I still can’t believe you did that by the way.”

“Get to know me, huh,” Ace responds mischievously with a wiggle of his brows, “If you were that eager to go out with me you could’ve just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you question, playful glint in your eyes.

You grill him on his favorite foods, an undeniable undercurrent of flirting continuing to permeate your conversation. People maneuver around you two in the kitchen, several stopping by to greet you as you and Ace talk, but nobody has been able to pull you away yet. That is, until Nami comes back declaring it was time to smoke. You send Ace an apologetic look as she drags you off to the couch by your arm.

A knock reverberates through the front door snapping Ace out of his momentary trance. He quickly pays the delivery guy with the cash left by the door, exchanging it for the multiple boxes of pizza. He places them down and grabs a slice of whatever box was on top, mindlessly looking around the room. His gaze but his gaze lands on you as if you were magnetic. He watches you laugh with your friends when Usopp takes too big a hit and devolves into a coughing fit.

Usopp passes the bong your way and to Ace’s surprise you don’t take a hit, instead you pass it on to Nami before downing the rest of your drink. Now he wonders why Nami pulled you away in the first place if you weren’t going to smoke.

You stand up and walk Ace’s way, patting Usopp – who is still coughing – on the back as you pass. You make a direct beeline for the keg. He watches you as you refill your glass only to down that cup in one gulp, refilling it again. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

“Fancy seeing you here again,” Ace says, drawing your attention.

“How’re you doing, hottie,” you tease - the words are playful but they ignite something inside of him. He smiles cheekily at the reference to the contact name he put in your phone.

“What brings you over to my side of town,” he jokes.

“Weed doesn’t really agree with me,” you say simply leaving it at that, leaning against the counter. A silence envelopes the kitchen, one that Ace is desperate to break but can’t figure out how to. All hope is lost when you bring your glass up to meet your lips. His eyes follow your every move, completely transfixed by the simple action.

He forgets how to behave casually, his elbow missing the counter top entirely when he tries to lean against it next to you. He really hopes that you didn’t notice that but the silent giggle tumbling out of your mouth is telling him that you did.

Ace clears his throat, trying to dispel the thoughts in his mind, “So how ya know Luffy?” As soon as the words leave his mouth he knows that it was a stupid question. What the hell is wrong with him? He can’t believe that he is acting like he’s never done this before, it’s embarrassing.

“We work together,” you laugh.

“I meant what got you into music? I didn’t get the chance to ask earlier” he says, trying to recover, hoping desperately that you can’t see the heat in his cheeks. He grabs another slice of pizza hoping that eating will prevent him from being awkward. 

“Ace you didn’t tell me the pizza was here,” Luffy says from across the apartment with a frown. 

“Luffy, the pizza’s here,” Ace grins, mouth full. You try hard to stifle a laugh as the energetic boy comes running into the kitchen grabbing the boxes of pizza. Just as quickly as he came, Luffy runs back to the living room, setting them on the table before taking one for himself.

Ace notices how Nami catches your eye and gives you a questioning look. He watches your silent interaction, which ends with you waving off Nami - he isn’t sure if that is a good thing or not. Before he can dwell on what that meant you turn back to him.

“We were talking about music, yeah,” you question. Ace nods in response, his mouth full from another bite. “I’m not entirely sure exactly what got me into music, I think it was a cumulation of a bunch of things. Music has always been a big part of my life, even when I was growing up. Honestly I can’t really picture myself doing anything else.”

The conversation moves to music in general, a topic he is more than happy to talk about. Ace finds himself getting more and more excited as you talk, nobody has really been able to match his freak when it comes to music and it was refreshing to talk to someone just as passionate about the topic. He knew already he enjoys your company but this is solidifying the fact.

You mention your love for making playlists and you see how he lights up. Ace quickly (and excitedly) suggests that you make playlists for each other, immediately pulling out his phone to craft one right then and there. You laugh at his enthusiasm but are fast to do the same. After you finish making him a short on-the-spot playlist, Ace watches you go for what he is pretty sure is your fourth drink of the night. 

“You should probably slow down,” he cautions, gesturing to the keg, trying to save you from the pain of a hangover. 

To his surprise however, you scoff before looking at him with a smile, “Relax, I can outdrink you.”

Now it’s Ace’s turn to scoff. “I highly doubt that darling,” he says full of confidence.

“I outdrank Zoro once,” you proudly proclaim. Ace didn’t know the man in question super well but he’s been witness to the number of times the green haired man came to refill his cup and how he seems to be able to handle his alcohol well.

Zoro, as if knowing you were talking about him, snaps his head in your direction and shouts, “Oi, that’s not fair, I was sick.”

“You threw up, so it counts,” you shout back sticking out your tongue, delight written all over your face. Zoro mumbles something in disagreement but doesn’t push any further. Ace finds your antics amusing and a bit charming.

“Wanna put money on it, Doll?” Ace asks with a mischievous grin.

“How about you buy me dinner,” you playfully respond. 

“And if I win?” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“It won’t happen,” you state firmly.

“If it does?” He pushes, not sure what answer he is hoping for, probably any that involves spending more time with you

“Then I’ll take you out to dinner twice,” you say.

“Deal” he says and the pair of you shake on it, “let me catch up to you then.” He chugs two more cups of beer so you start at the same baseline.

“Did I hear something about a drinking contest?” Nami shouts and you laugh at her. If Ace knew her better he would probably be able to tell that the tone of voice she is using is reserved explicitly for when there is money on the line.

“Are you sure, Y/N, Ace is really able to drink,” Luffy warns you from across the room. Ace’s confidence grows at his little brother’s praises. 

That is until Nami hits Luffy on the head, “What are you talking about? You’ve seen her drink.”

It is starting to become clear to Ace that this is going to become an event and that your group takes drinking contests seriously. While he isn’t worried, being confident in his abilities, he just hopes you’re going to be okay losing infront of all your friends.

The group that was smoking and a few stragglers move into the kitchen to watch. Usopp is quick to declare himself the referee. Nami and Sanji – Ace is pretty sure that is his name – both bartenders, come over and start filling cups.

You and Ace sit down at the small bartop and shake hands. Out of the corner of his eye, Ace can see Luffy clapping his feet in excitement. When he reverts his attention back to the game, it surprises Ace to see how many cups the bartenders filled. There are at least ten for each of you. He is sure that your friends would know your limits but Ace starts to worry about you getting alcohol poisoning or something.

“I already know where you’re gonna take me to dinner,” you tease him.

“We’ll see about that,” Ace says grinning ear to ear, “You ready, doll?”

“I am so going to kick your ass,” you say, and he is loving your confidence. With that Usopp declares it’s time to start.

Ace downs the first glass of beer only to see that you’re already on your second. He takes that as a sign to lock the fuck in and he keeps going. The two of you remain neck and neck, and he is surprised you’re even able to drink this fast. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t find it kinda hot, but he is too focused on winning to dwell on that. He starts to feel the alcohol enter his bloodstream but he doesn’t stop.

“Damn, Doll, I did not expect you to make it past ten,” Ace slurs as you both catch your breath between drinks. Still tied, you had made it nearly the entire way through the cups and were now in the home stretch.

“What are you at now?” Nami asks, concern in her voice she looks over at Sanji and they share a look of unease.

“Not sure but I think we’re at eleven - maybe twelve or thirteen,” Ace answers, doing his best to count. Sanji’s eyes grow wide, both of you are well past double the amount of drinks he would serve a customer and both bartenders know it is time to cut you off.

“Alright, you’re done, no more,” Sanji says, pulling away the glasses. Nami is already getting the two of you water.

You pout a little at the cut off but neither you nor Ace are going to argue with a bartender who cuts you off, they may not be on the clock but they understand how alcohol impacts people. You whisper to Ace (loudly) that this is why all of your good drinking contests happen when they’re not around. Sanji scoffs at that, mumbling something about the damn moss head? Ace isn’t sure.

After you're cut off, the crowd disperses with some chatter. Zoro grabs as many of the glasses as he could carry, which is five of the six left, and goes back to the living room. Sanji rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed at the guy, but doesn’t make a move to stop it. Ace can’t help but wonder what Zoro’s tolerance is, How fucked is his liver?

Nami then pulls you away and practically forces water down your throat, nearly choking you in the process. But Ace can hear her faint praise to you, commenting how she just made money, which causes you to laugh and spit out some of the water. Sanji slides a glass of water to Ace as well, instructing him to drink it. 

Hands appear on Ace’s shoulders causing him to jump a little. “It seems that you’ve met your match, huh,” Ace hears Sabo’s voice. He’s not wrong, Ace thinks, reaching for a slice of pizza.

“I really gotta go,” Sabo says with a sense of urgency, “I bet the redhead like 50 bucks on you and she looks like the type to collect if there’s a draw.” Ace laughs, from what he overheard, Sabo is probably right. 

“Good luck getting home,” Sabo says jokingly, patting Ace’s back before sneaking out the door.

Off in the distance he can hear Luffy trying to put on some music and multiple people jump trying to stop him. Ace chuckles, he can’t really blame them, Luffy’s taste in music is… unique. He can hear bickering about who is going to control the music, but he tunes it out, his mind elsewhere. 

Ace is still thinking about what Sabo said earlier. He can’t pretend like he doesn’t really like you, or at least enjoys your company. He watches you over with Nami, who he can hear making you promise to keep drinking water and eating food - with threats attached of course. Once she seems content, she leaves you to your own devices, returning back to her earlier spot on the couch. And just like that the two of you are alone in the kitchen again.

You turn to him and let out a joyous laugh making his heart constrict a little bit. “You just had to tell them what we were at, didn’t you,” you say in a jokingly accusatory tone, walking over to him again.

“Hey, I didn’t know they would cut us off like that,” Ace defends.

“I know, they’re such buzzkills sometimes,” you sigh overdramatically, he lets out a little laugh. You sit down next to him, swiveling the stool to look at him. He’s not quite sure why he is so happy you came and sat next to him but it’s making his heart palpitate.

“I’m impressed that you could keep up with me, Dollface, not many people can say the same,” he pokes fun. If he could read minds he would know that you were thinking how it is possible for someone to have such a charming smile.

“You shouldn’t underestimate me, I have powers beyond your comprehension,” you lean in close with a goofy grin. Ace can’t help but find drunk you adorable – not that you weren’t already. You sit back up and continue, “But you were good.”

“I put my money where my mouth is babydoll,” he says. Ace doesn’t register the new name until a spark of something flashes through them and you lick your lips. He is enchanted by the action, eyes lingering on your lips longer than they should be.

“JENGA TIME,” Luffy shouts, pulling Ace out of his thoughts. Why the hell are you playing Jenga, he thinks. When you look at Ace you can see the confusion on his face and answer the question before he can even ask, “It’s jenga but the blocks have things written on them and you have to do what it says or drink.”

“Come on let's go play,” you say giddy, pulling him out of the chair.

The alcohol is clearly starting to course its way through the both of you as you walk. You drag him across the apartment stopping short to scout out a spot for the two of you to sit. You point to the empty cushion on the couch and drag him over. The two of you squeeze into the last seat, Nami, on your otherside refusing to give the two of you space. For some reason Ace doesn’t really mind having you pressed up against him. 

He’s so focused on how your bodies connect he doesn’t notice the game starts until Luffy is screaming out from drinking a shot of hot sauce. The room erupts in laughter at his brother’s misery and Ace can’t help but join in. Luffy leaves the circle and sticks his head under the kitchen faucet drinking water straight from the tap.

“How does he always get that one,” you giggle.

“He probably likes it,” Zoro grunts, “Ever notice how the hot sauce gets hotter every time?”

When Luffy returns, the game continues around the circle with some getting dares others having to tell embarrassing stories. Eventually it comes around to Ace and he has to answer what happened the last time he got blackout drunk. It’s been a while but it’s a story that Marco never lets him live down, not that he remembers doing it. 

“I’m pretty sure that Luffy knows this one,” Ace starts with the slightest hint of embarrassment.

“Is this the stop sign one?” Luffy asks, getting excited when Ace nods, “This is a good one.” Luffy laughs, knowing what’s to come.

“Gonna share with the class, Portgas?” you tease. He flashes you a smile that leaves you full of anticipation. You lean into him even more, not noticing how his breath hitches. He takes a beat, preparing himself before he tells the tale.

“For the record, I don’t remember any of this, this is just what I’ve been told,” Ace starts, struggling to keep his words coherent, “It was Halloween a couple of years ago, I was walking back to my apartment with a couple of friends and on the way there was this stop sign that had clearly been hit by a car, it was messed up and bent out of shape. For whatever reason, I really wanted that stop sign, probably to liven up the apartment.

“I ripped it out of the ground and right after I did that an officer stopped us, which makes sense, a group of drunk guys holding a stop sign that was clearly just pulled out of the sidewalk is sketchy. The officer asked what I was doing with the sign and I wanted to keep it so I played dumb and hid it behind my back. But I didn’t do a good job because the sign was sticking out above my head.

“Luckily, my friend Marco managed to convince the officer that it was already out and I just picked it up to try and put it back and he believed him and let us go, but I had to leave the sign behind and I was so upset about losing it that I was sad the rest of the night. Marco likes to say I was crying about it while over the toilet but I think he’s full of it.”

The story seems to be popular with the crowd because it has them cracking up for a while (Luffy being the loudest, despite having heard this story several times), throwing out questions that he couldn’t answer. The room eventually calms and then it is your turn. 

Nami instructs you which block to pull when your turn comes around and you happily follow her suggestion, not seeing the mischievous smirk on her face that she directs at Ace, confusing him.

“Sit in the person on your right’s lap for the next round,” you say, slurring your words together. …He’s the person to your right. Nami’s look is making sense now.

“You good with that?” you ask him with big doe eyes that make him feel weak. 

“Shit,” Ace whispers, grateful that the heat of alcohol can be blamed for his blush. You cock your head, waiting for his response. He scoops you up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist, “If that’s what it says.” You show him the block as proof and to be honest he doesn’t care if you made that up or not. Once you’re comfortable on his lap and distracted, Nami mouths ‘you're welcome’ to him. Ace isn’t sure if he should thank her or be embarrassed that she read him so clearly.

The round comes and goes and you’re still perched on his lap. The two of you are sharing laughs at jokes only you understand. He already likes making people laugh but Ace is finding just how much he enjoys getting you to throw your head back in laughter.

The game fizzles out naturally as people start to leave for the night, but Ace and you are so lost in your own world you don’t really notice. At some point you shifted positions. Now sitting across his lap and he is glad to be able to see your face, happy to get lost in your features. You reach up and pluck the hat from his head, placing it on your own. 

The simple sight of you in his hat has Ace feeling a hunger that he hasn’t felt in awhile. He’s at a loss for words, seeing you in something he owns is releasing primal urges in him that he’s been trying desperately to beat back with a stick all night. You’re his little brother’s friend for fucks sake, no need to make it awkward if it doesn’t work out.

“Hey Y/N, is that Ace’s hat you’re wearing,” Nami says poking fun at you. In either embarrassment for being caught or realization of what you did you remove the orange hat, placing it back onto Ace’s head.

The sight of you in his hat feels like a guilty pleasure, one that he is not willing to give up so quickly. He catches your hand and guides it back your head and a surprised look overtakes your face. “It looks good on you,” Ace explains in what he hopes is a casual tone.

Much sooner than he’d like, Nami is pulling you away from him to bring you home. You give his hat back and leave his lap with an apologetic glance. He can't help but be excited to see you again.

a/n since they kinda drink like a frat in universe i figured they probably buy kegs like one too, they likely rotate who buys though i am an absolute lightweight but grew up around heavy drinkers, this is only slightly exaggerated (bc that fits the characters better) but i have seen people drink a LOT like your liver cannot be fine a lot also i LOVE drunk jenga. They drank enough to get FUCKED UP fr so ofc they drunk idiots at the end, love that for them, it’s cute

pls don't expect chapters to be this long i can't do it regularly 😭

pls like & comment! let me know your thoughts | © stuckinmymind22 | dividers by @enchanthings

[karinadele]

Corrupt

Megatron x Reader

NSFW | DeadDove

I cant write anymore of this, i had more -even a plot for it, but im cringing every 6 seconds with this. But maybe someone out there wants to read it idk

its tfp megs but his altmode is g1 gun

Warnings: Drugs, Gunplay, Power Dynamics (duh), Megs is fucked up, but ur just as doomed. At least he calls you a good girl? Abrupt ending cause i died, I tried to make it not as painful...

-----

“Open.” he demanded. Transformed into his gun mode, laying in your hands. The cold metal resting in your palms.

Completely glazed over, washed with a fog of grey, you don’t even know what’s going on anymore. The drugs in your system have messed you up so hard that all of your senses have been dulled to the point you barely know how to breathe. Eyes half rolled up with your mouth hanging open as soft pants come out; your body attempting to stabilize its breathing. The only sounds to your muffled hearing is your desperate whimpers and his commands.

“Be a good girl and take it.”

His orders ring through your ears.

“Be a good girl and take it.”

“Be a good girl and take it.”

That’s right. I’m a good girl. Completely void of any dignity, as you have your legs on your knees, you sit on the berth. With your eyes barely a slit, staring at the Walther P38 in your hands. Nodding at it as you pick it up, safety unlocked, holding onto the grip.

“Keep your eyes open.”

Unaware that you’ve closed them as you diverted all of your attention opening your mouth to hold out your tongue, you force your lids up as much as you can. Just barely open, but enough to be able to see –not that you can make out what’s heads or tails of anything.

It’s all about control. He doesn’t need you to see anything, so long as you obey his directions. But forcing all of your senses online is part of the game, he’s ultimately controlling you.

He got a first hand glimpse of what you can do. Something awoke inside of him when he saw the way you draped your tongue out in front of him. At that moment, he knew. He wanted to feel you, wanted to know what it felt to be wrapped around an organic’s intake, the wet and softness of it? Would it be warm? To see your completely broken submissive face as you take him. His spike is already pressurizing, but that’s not what he wanted. That will come another day. For now, he needed to know what it felt like with your lips sealed around him, tongue twirling around him.

“Good girl. Now put it in.”

The only actions you can do at this rate are simple movements. Fortunately, it’s enough. Placing the bottom of the barrel onto the tip of your tongue as you bring it back. Fear has long escaped you. You know it’s from the drugs, but what are you going to do? Fight them? They’re already in your system.

You hear a muffled groan, taking that as a good sigh, sliding it further in. Gently running the body of your tongue along the bottom of the barrel, thin enough that you can cover the whole surface area with a slight curve.

’Primus, he did not know it would feel this good.’ If he would have known this is what organics felt like, he would have taken you a long time ago. The warm and wet of your tongue colliding with his cold and metal body, clashing into a harmony of pleasure.

“More.” He demanded.

His words rumbled in your mouth, sending vibrations down your throat. His voice was already a deep baritone, but with it muffled by you, it felt even more exhilarating.

Desperate to please him, you begin to slide your tongue up. Slowly rolling it over the barrel, making a loop. Repeating a few times before switching direction, heading the other way.

If he was in his bot mode, he would be clenching his servos and gritting his denta. He may be unable to physically express the emotions, but they’re there. Jolts of shocks run through him as he lets out a low growl. He could almost feel himself shaking, only hoping that you had enough of a grip to hold him well.

A delicate trust between 2 completely different species, a twisted odd of faith as his safety rests in your hands, and your own death being one trigger away. He would hope you would not, you’re too precious for that. Yet the thrill of giving you that choice, –and being the one to be able to take you offline, makes him feel something he’s never felt before. Murdering bots? Originally he felt something. Guilt perhaps? But over time it did not matter anymore. It’s the thin line of trust that you will not do it that excites him. That you’re given the choice in your own palms, but you’d rather choose him.