#and right as i turn to walk again. i see a man take a turn walking down this road as well

[ellecdc]

I just took my dog for a walk in this god awful weather and I had a thought.

One I have a head cannon that the black brothers have awful circulation due to incest, but besides the fact.

Sirius loves being padfoot in the winter because he gets extra cuddles that being said he will need walked and will whine until he gets taken outside but the second he gets outside he turns around a gives puppy dog eyes. This will go three ways

1.) James will yield and they’ll go back into the house

2.) Remus is firm, this is what you wanted so we’re going on a walk (it’s a short one but still)

3.) Reader is 50/50 on actually following through with walking Padfoot sometimes she will sometimes she won’t

omg okay first of all this thought is hilarious, secondly, it made me think of how my dog does this brilliant thing in the winter that is SO Sirius coded..... so I wanted to write that

Sirius Black x gn!reader who takes Padfoot for a winter walk [431 words]

CW: could be poly!marauders if you wanted? or at the very least poly!wolfstar since Remus was mentioned, but Sirius is the only one present

You could hardly see; your vision reduced to the thin space between the top of your scarf which covered your nose, and your thick woolen hat that fell just below your eyebrows. 

Your hands - donned in the thickest pair of mittens you could find - were also jammed inside the pockets of your very plush winter jacket, making you resemble a marshmallow more than you did a human.

But fair was fair, and if Sirius had to - “freeze my arse off when you dragged him around various Christmas markets-” “you could stand to wear mittens, you know…” you’d tried to argue, only to be met with the very unimpressed look of your boyfriend. “What mittens would ever match my punk rock image, gorgeous?” - then you could freeze your arse doing this.

This being taking your twenty-something-year-old boyfriend on a walk, except your boyfriend was currently a very large, very excited, very goofy black dog bounding through the piled up snow that had been shoveled off of the sidewalks for pedestrians. 

“The things we do for them, eh?” A man bundled up to similar degrees as you commented from across the street whilst his own dog forced him to pause to sniff a pole very thoroughly. 

You let out a slightly nervous laugh. “You can say that again.”

You turned around to see what the bloody hold up was - wishing you’d heeded Remus’ suggestion to ‘put a lead on the bloody beast’ before you left - to notice Padfoot limping towards you rather pathetically, his front right paw raised in the air as he hobbled towards you what could only be described as theatrically on three legs.

“Oh, what is it now?” You muttered under your breath, though you dutifully turned your body to give your pathetic canine-boyfriend your undivided attention.

A pitiful whine escaped the large dog as he sat, holding his paw up further to you; the gathering snow creating small balls of ice between the pads of his toes combined with the street salt clearly aggravating his paws.

“Hm? Sore? Which one?” You cooed, causing the dog to nearly wave his sore paw at you.

You presented the dog your mittened hand, barely offering two gentle squeezes of the offending limb before the dog was reclaiming his paw and happily trotting on ahead of you - snow balls and salted wounds forgotten.

“The drama, am I right?” The guy laughed, waving as his dog finally deigned to carry on a few feet ahead to the next pole for sniffing.

“Sir,” you started around a laugh of your own, “you have no idea.”

[suni-writings]

Take the pain away.

jude bellingham x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

+18!! mdni

(content warning: unrequited feelings, cheating [unrelated to jude x reader], toxic relationship [also not jude x reader], smut, fingering, unprotected sex [have safe sex pls])

it's been a while since i wrote a jude smut, but you ask and i shall deliver. we have been waiting for this one. heavily inspired by "fuck the pain away (lost tapes 2022)" by tory lanez.

He was exhausted. Not because of football, not because of fame, but because of his best friend. Being physically exhausted was something he was used to — Jude could get rid of it in a few weeks if it resulted in some type of pain. Emotionally, however? He was clueless as to how to heal it, especially since time did nothing but deepen his feelings towards her. It messed up his head, his thoughts got foggy, and he seemed to act out of impulse whenever he was around her. Nothing could really stop him when she was next to him, and that was his doom.

Well, that and her boyfriend. Her hideous, stupid attempt of a man of a boyfriend, whom did nothing but make her feel bad and cheat on her. She wasn’t the girl Jude used to know anymore — the fierce one, who everyone would be scared to even look at her the wrong way. Somehow, that manipulator managed to get her undivided forgiveness every time. It was a never-ending cycle, one that was tearing his mind apart. He was always the one to rescue her, until that dumbass showed up again, promising to be different and acting like a prince for a week.

That night wasn’t any different. The moment his phone vibrated in his pocket and Jude saw who sent the message, he already knew what it was about. And, despite being tired, he still walked up to her house, because she had him at his mercy. He wanted nothing more than to see her okay again, to be her sunshine of her rainy days.

Even if for a single moment only.

She had left the door unlocked for him. Jude carefully got inside, taking a deep breath. He could hear her sobs coming from her room, which he carefully walked up to.

“Princess?” Jude called out softly.

Even in the darkness, he could see her hands coming to dry the tears in her eyes. She sat up, still sniffing, and he sat next to her. He caressed gently her face and wiped another tear.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“What’s the point? You already know what happened. It’s what always happens.” She let out a humorless chuckle and sighed. “I’m sorry. I probably look like shit right now.’

Bellingham took a moment to look — more like admire — her face. Red glimmering eyes, puffy nose, the bite marks on her lip to avoid crying. She still looked breathtaking.

“You look like a mess, honey,” Jude smirked. “But still pretty as ever.”

She gave a small smile, that quickly turned into a grimace, and she looked at him.

“I feel so weak, Jude. I don’t know why I keep letting this happen, I don’t know why I’m so—” she stopped midsentence and laid in bed again, holding back her tears. He was next to her, supporting the weight of his body on his elbow. “Please, take this pain away. I can’t handle this anymore.”

He took a deep breath yet again. There’s not much he could do, and all his options sounded selfish; even if it was for her own good, it also benefited him. Like leaving that project of a man for once and all. He slowly took strands of her hair out of her face, gently outlining her cheek. He avoided looking at her lips, because he couldn’t do anything about it. Especially with her this vulnerable.

“I’m here, princess. What can I do for you?” Jude asked quietly, toying her hair between his fingers.

“Take the pain away.” She begged again and looked into his eyes.

She had no idea how much Jude wanted to do that.

“I can’t do that. I’m not him, I can’t fix his mistakes, but I can—” he bit his tongue when he realized he was about to say too much; to act selfishly, to prove her she could do better, to give her a taste of what she could have.

A few moments of silence fell between them and her eyes searched for his. She leaned closer, as if she got the hint. As if she wanted it too.

Jude could be her temporary relief, he didn’t care. If he could help, he would.

Who was he trying to fool? If he could have her in any way, he would.

“Fuck the pain away. I could fuck the pain away, baby.” He whispered as he looked at her in her beautiful, almost translucent nightgown. “An eye for an eye. Give him a taste of his own poison. You say the word, I’ll do it.”

She leaned even closer to him, her hand gently resting on his face as she caressed his cheek. She bit her lip, thinking. She was desperate, and Jude was right there for her.

If her boyfriend could do it, then so could she.

Without a second warning, to Jude’s surprise, her lips crashed into his, hastily seeking relief. When their tongues touched, she was in a frenzy, and everything started to get blurry.

All she could think was the way Jude kissed and bit her neck, the way his warm tongue descended to her collarbone and threatened to go even lower. The way she tugged, on Jude’s hair, not wanting the moment the moment to end, needing more of his kisses. Of his burning touch.

“Need to take this off, princess.” He muttered against her collarbone, holding the hem of her nightgown. She nodded and stood her arms up so he could easily remove it. “Making this all so easy for me.” He said once he saw her breasts and tossed the nightgown away, biting her nipple before gently sucking it while caressing the other with expertise.

She was already panting. In a single attempt, he brought his covered knee close to her core, and the damp in her panties was undeniable.

That only fueled his anger. That bastard had her and didn’t touch her properly.

His mouth left her breast and moved back to her neck, sucking and biting it while his hand descended to her core and she her back almost arched in anticipation; if he knew she was that touch deprived, he would’ve suggested that a long time ago.

With his hands underneath her underwear, he pressed two fingers against her clit and moved them slowly, pressuring further to see the way her chest rose, the way her cheeks flush and how her mouth opened, too scared to make a sound.

So, without warning, Jude inserted the two fingers inside her and moved them fast, curling them until he found the spot that made her back arch, and the room became filled with moans. He kissed her throat, his mouth vibrating with each moan that came out of her mouth. His movements were precise, fast, and with an urge to prove something that, before he could realize or properly enjoy what he was doing, her walls were closing against his fingers.

“Jude, I’m—” she tried to say, but he smirked against her skin and moved his fingers even harder.

“You’re what? Tell me, baby.” Jude teased her and her back arched. He felt his fingers hurt, but it didn’t matter. Not when she was coming undone in his hands.

“Jude—” she tried to warn again, and he kept moving his fingers, looking at her in the eyes. She struggled to keep them open, trying to keep eye contact.

“Is that everything you know how to say now? My name?” He hit the spot once again and smirked. “I could get used to that.”

Her walls fully clenched around his fingers, and she finally came, seeing stars behind her eyes and leaving a loud moan. It was something she had never experienced so strongly, and she didn’t know if it was because her boyfriend didn’t care about her pleasure or if it was because it was Jude. Maybe the answer was both.

“Fuck.” she muttered, panting. He just smirked, looking into her eyes and leaning away, putting his own fingers in his mouth to taste her.

“Now that’s a very—” his fingers left his mouth with a pop once he made sure to savor the taste. “—very good girl. And a delicious one, if I might add. Could taste you for fucking hours.”

Jude didn’t care if he still had his clothes on. He had a taste of hers, and nothing would stop him now.  If he already couldn’t stop himself before touching, the gods may as well punish him, and it wouldn’t be enough for him to stop.

He kissed her again, making her taste herself before lowering the kisses — from her mouth to the spot under her ear. From her neck to her collarbone. From the valley of her breasts to her stomach. The kisses only lowered. Before he could reach her panties once again, starving, she tugged on her hair.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m too worked up for you to eat me out. Need more.”

He bit his lip and smirked. As much as he wanted to taste her, he wanted to be inside her. He took off his shirt in a swift move and she sat up, crawling closer to him to kiss him and bite his neck. He felt like his skin was on fire and the bulge on his sweatpants only got harder. He took a deep breath.

“You’re not helping, princess.” He sighed.

“Am I not?” Now it was her time to tease. She straddled him and sat right against his crotch, making him almost roll his eyes. “You should take those sweatpants off.” She said as her hands caressed his abdomen.

He quickly turned the position, now on top of her, and took his sweatpants off.

“Good enough for you, princess?” He whispered, leaning closer.

“Better if you took your underwear off.” She smirked.

“Brat.”

Instead of taking his underwear off, he took her panties off in one single move. A risky one, since he could’ve ripped it from how quickly he took it off. He lowered and admired for a moment.

“Such a pretty pussy. A shame you won’t let me eat you out.” He whispered as he looked at her core, gently touching her puffy clit once again. She was stretched, but not enough. He didn’t pay attention to that when he had his fingers inside her — he just wanted to see her pretty face coming.

“Jude.” She called him out with some urgency, and he sighed.

Maybe the gods couldn’t stop Jude, but she could.

He took his underwear off, only now realizing how painfully hard he was. She watched as his cock sprung out, rigid, leaking with too much precum. He bit his lip and put his hand around his cock, spreading the precum slowly. He knew how sensitive he was right now, and he had to hold it back for her. He lined his member with her entrance and slowly dipped inside her.

She moaned loudly and Jude could feel his breath stopping from how tight she was. He gave her some time to adjust to his size.

“This is too much.” She whined.

“Darling, I’m not even moving.” He replied. “Your boyfriend lacks even in that area? He’s truly useless.”

She would’ve chuckled if she wasn’t having a hard time with the way his cock filled her, the burning sensation from the stretch seeming unending.

“It hurts.”

Jude leaned close to her, their lips almost touching.

“It doesn’t, baby.” He thrusted one time, to make her more used to the movements. “I’m taking the pain away. Just feel me here. That’s all you have to do.” He pressed his hand against her belly and thrusted once again, earning a moan and feeling himself from how big he was.

She could do much better than her boyfriend. He wanted to be the much better.

He started properly moving, hard, fast, desperate for his own release as well. To prove her how much better she could be fucked if he was the one doing it. And each time he hit the spot, he could feel her walls clenching. His hand never left her belly, knowing how deep he was going into her. He couldn’t stop.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and held his hair as his movements became more frenetic, moans dripping from her mouth to his ear with anything he did. He moaned whenever she clenched too hard against him.

“You’re so fucking tight.” he muttered, panting, trying to keep the pace. It was taking all of his willpower to not just come already. She didn’t reply, of course. She was too busy scratching his back and moaning desperately.

His movements became more erratic, slower, and, when her walls clenched around him one last time, he spilled everything inside her and fell to her chest, trying to catch his breath.

“Jude?” She called him out once they could properly speak.

“Yeah?”

“Stay. For the night.” She pleaded softly, caressing his back that were marked by the painting her nails had done.

“I wasn’t planning to go anywhere else, princess.” He smiled at her.

Jude held her against his chest, as she peacefully slept. He leaned his chin on the top of her head and, once he was certain she was sleeping, he sighed.

“I can’t take the pain away because I’m not your man.” Jude whispered. “But I wish I was.”

[indulgentdaydream]

Rooftop Angel

Jason Todd x Reader | Fluff Word Count: 1,314 Warnings: not proofread. a dangerous amount of banter. lowkey stalking but like not in a toxic way more so playing a prank.

Is this anything anyone requested? No. Is this something I thought of writing almost a year ago walking home after classes one night but never wrote? Yes. Did I decide that nickname at his very last line and went back and immediately added it in everywhere else. Maybe.

Is this the first fic I've written since before I was in the ER in July? Also yes. I'm not sorry maybe I would be if I was paid for this.

A cool breeze brushed across your cheeks as you walked down the sidewalk, the street lamps illuminating the dry concrete and the scattering of fallen autumn leaves.

You kept your hands in your jacket pockets to keep them warm, trodding along contentedly with your headphones playing music, filtering out the dreadful sounds of small bursts of late night city traffic. Your last class ran late. A three-hour lecture that ended at 9pm. Usually you'd go and get on the bus right away, but having not eaten before class, you'd stopped to get dinner at one of the late night shops on campus. Afterwards, since the next bus was going to take a half-hour to arrive, you'd decided the 25 minute walk didn't seem too bad.

You were grateful to have the opportunity to take the walk, giving you more time to yourself before you returned to the pile of dishes you knew you had left yourself in the sink.

You kept your eyes on your surroundings, like your boyfriend always told you to. Gotham was no good at night for anyone. Yet, there was no one else on this street, so there was probably no reason to worry this time around.

He also told you to stop wearing your headphones while walking around. Consistently. He just doesn't understand the peace it brings since he doesn't do it.

Halfway through your walk, your music suddenly faded to silence, before your ringtone began to play instead. You sighed at the loss of your alone with music time as you pulled out your phone to see who it was. At the sight of Jason's smiling profile picture, you perked up again, immediately tapping your screen to pick up and shoved your phone back in your pocket, the sound connecting to you headphones.

"Hello," you said cheerfully.

There was no response.

You frowned and pulled your phone back out. The call was still there. You quickly remembered how your headphones had been kicking out on phone calls lately. You sighed and slipped them off, bringing the phone to your ear instead.

"Hi, Jay," you repeat happily.

"Hi, chickpea," his voice filtered through. "What'cha doing?"

"Walking home," You smiled. "I grabbed dinner at Bel's after class and the bus was late. Where are you?"

"Stopped by yours, but realized you weren't home. I'm out and about again."

You frown, "Oh, I'm sorry. I should've texted you."

"That's fine, love," Jason let out a small chuckle, "Staying safe?"

You nod, "Mhmm. Course I am."

"Yeah? Good." He sounded unconvinced. "What was that pause at the start?"

"What pause?"

"The pause that always happens with your headphones."

You purse your lips, "I had them on in case you called."

"Riiiiight," Jason drawled.

You groan, realizing you were caught after having promised him the umpteenth time only a few days ago that you'd be more vigilant, "I promise I was watching around me."

"But you weren't listening."

"I would've seen them!"

"Not if they were coming from behind."

You pause, glancing behind you as you walked. There was no one else on the street except a man that had just left his apartment. He looked tough, rugged jeans and a black sweater with the hood pulled up over his head. He began walking down the steps and you felt a spike of panic before he turned and began walking in the direction you came.

"Mhmm," Jason hummed knowingly, filling your silence. "You're lucky he turned the other way."

"Seriously," you muttered, agreeing, and faced forward again.

You turned Jason's words over in your head. You slow to a stop. You stood for a second before looking out across the other side of the street, then the tops of the buildings.

Jason voice filtered into your ear again, grabbing your attention, "You listening to me, chickpea?"

You whip around to stare up at the top of the building to your right. You catch the slightest glint of red before it disappear behind the edge of the roof.

"Well don't do that," He said.

You couldn't help but smile, still looking up at where you'd last seen him, "Why not?"

"You'll give me away," he argued. "Keep your head down and keep walking."

You smile to yourself, but do as he says. You whisper into the phone to avoid any prying ears in passing alleyways, "Stalker."

"I am not a stalker," He sounded like he was pouting at being caught, embarrassed. "You weren’t where you were supposed to be. I got worried."

You let out a small laugh, "Come walk with me. Walk me home."

You hear the hesitation in his reply, "No can do, love. You know I don't need you associated with the Red Hood."

Scoffing, you kick a pebble, "You hate me."

"I could never hate you."

"Hmph," you can't help but glance up as you pass an alleyway, catching a glance of him jumping across it, a shadow against the light polluted sky. "Just take the helmet off and zip up your jacket."

He chuckles, "And what? Carry it at my side instead?"

"I'll put it in my bag."

"It'll be too big."

"I'll put it under my coat," You counter. "I can pretend to be pregnant. Or have a beer belly."

Jason's laugh made your cheeks warm against the cool air, "I'm wearing my domino mask tonight."

"Then take it off."

"What about my eye black?"

"I've got some make remover in my bag."

He hummed, "You've just got the answer to everything, don't you?

"I'm smart."

"That you are, darling."

"Smarter than you, apparently."

He barks out a laugh at that, "That's okay. I like 'em smart."

You blush at that, a smile tugging at your lips.

"I make up for it though," He continued.

"By being handsome?" You retort.

He hesitated and you knew he was blushing, too. "No, by being more careful."

You roll your eyes at him. There was really no harm.

You reached your apartment building, just passing the last alleyway. A hand clamped down on your wrist that held your phone to your ear, tugging you into it, pulling it away from your ear at them same time. You moved to scream when a gloved hand cover your mouth, pressing you into the wall, deep in the shadow of the two buildings. Not pushed, or shoved, just pressed.

Your eyes fixed on Jason's amused eyes, his faceplate raised to show his face. He taps the hang up button on your phone with his thumb, slipping it back in your pocket to rest his hand on your hip.

He slips his other hand off your mouth and you're already glaring, "You're not wearing your domino mask."

Jason grinned, "Sorry, love." He leaned down and kissed your cheek, the metal along his chin brushing your jaw. "I'm serious, though. Please stop wearing your headphones when walking around."

You huff slightly, slumping against the wall in defeat, "Fine."

Jason hums again and tilts your chin up with his fingers, pressing a kiss to your lips, "Thank you."

You kiss him back, easily accepting the affection from him, "Come inside?"

He gives you an apologetic smile and shakes his head, "I've gotta get going."

You huff dramatically, "You hate me."

Jason chuckles, "Well maybe if you hadn't stopped for that garbage food."

"But it's so good."

"I swear," he shook his head. "If I don't lose you to an easily avoided mugging it's gonna be heart failure from whatever that stuff is."

You grin and lean into him, "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Bright and early," He kissed you again, letting it linger. "Love you, chickpea."

You cupped his face as you kissed him back, "Love you, too, Jaybaby."

With a squeeze of your hip, he took a step back and closed his faceplate, watching you leave he alley and turn the corner, entering your building.

[simonsrileyhusband]

AAHRRG I NEED TO HEAR YOUR SIMON SHARING READER WITH PRICE IDEAS and maybe a little ghostprice in there too just maybe

🙏🙏

nsfw:

simon is jealous... no, possesive, you are his and only his. but before he met you he meet price and his captain means a lot to him.

so when he sees the way price eyes you up at the tiny reunion the 141 had at his house, he starts thinking. thinking why wasnt he angry, why didnt he punch him in the face like he has done before with random guys on the street?

"yer joking, right?" price was sitting alone with simon on the tiny office of the house, a quick drop off something simon forgot at base turned into a small talk session and drinking.

"i never joke like that." his voice is harsh, dry and determinated. simon looked at his captain death in the eyes, waiting for an answer.

"i mean..." the older man speaks, drinking a bit of the whiskey, nervous. "if he is up to."

simon hums and stands up, leaving the glass on the tiny table and walks off the room.

"wait-..." he tries to complain but its too late, price hears how a door opens from afar and how the two of you talk, far enough to not be able to actually pick up any words.

after a good 10 minutes simon walks in, you walk behind him shyly, grabbing his hand you hide behind his strong frame.

"you already know eachother, no needs for introductions." he pulls you into his lap, sitting besides price. "if you wanna stop just say, m'kay?" you nod softly, wiggling closer to simon, watching price carefully. he is hot, big biceps and a bit of tummy, just like your simon, big thighs and husky voice...

"words baby." he whispers, and you nod again, lost in the way price stares at you while he finishes his drink. "i-... yes." you finally speak and your boyfriend hums.

"go on. sit on his lap baby." you obey, crawling into his lap, facing him. "hi, love." he mumbles, placing his hands barely above your knees. you whisper a little hi back. "can i... can i kiss him?" you ask shyly, while looking at simon, your cheeks blushed. "you can do anything, lovie, as long as you are comfortable." you nod and turn back to price, whose hands were a bit higher on your thighs now.

you kiss him, not like you would kiss your boyfriend, you hold back a bit, tasting the alcohol on him. but he is older, he has experience, he knows how to make someone feel good, you feel his hands rub your legs and waist, squeezing just enough to make you want more, and when you feel his bulge grow you cant help but grind on it, moaning softly into his lips.

"enough, on your knees, now." you quickly pull back, and look at simon flustered, yet, you do as he says quickly, kneeling in front of the two men. "jesus, ya got him trained well."

"he know he gets a reward if he's good."

you look up at them with desire, a burning sensation growing inside of you, sinful images filling your mind of all the things they can do to you. both of them undo their belts and unzip their pants. you perk up and pull down simons boxers. instinctively grabbing his dick. "not so fast, be a good boy and do the same with john."

a little whine scapes your mouth, and you do as you are told, pulling down his boxers too, both of your hands start to move up and down their hardening cocks, you look at them, how theu grunt and pant, how they stare down at you like hungry lions waiting to eat their prey.

"suck." a simple word, a command that came out as a grunt. you lean in and kiss his tip lovingly, you lick and kiss all over his lenght, taking your time to take all of it inside. you continue to jerk price off, who was lost in the way you moved your head up and down, how your eyes water and how good simons voice sounds when he is whispering naaty praises to you.

your mind is blury, you dont know how lomg you have been sucking their dicks, being yanked by the hair and cheeks to be shoved into their aching dicks. but when they get tired of that and need more than just your mouth your mind is already gone.

"its okay baby, relax f'me" you hear your boyfriends husky voice sooth you, face down and ass up on the couch they were once sitting at. your hole dripping and your breath heavy. simon pats princes arm, "ye' can go first, but no cumming inside of him, that’s only f'me."

price says something that you dont quite graso because a heavy hand falls harshly into your ass, making you whine. "do you want me to fuck you, mhm? tell me honey, tell me how badly y'want your boyfriends friend to fuck you."

[kouzih]

Freak.

Nam-gyu ( Player 124 ) x gn!reader .ᐟ

warnings: insulting words , spitting/saliva

tags,, @gongyoosgf @bbyjjunie @seonghwasslytherin @wp2222-y

(hahaha ..this took longer than i thought.. hope you guys will enjoy it tho)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ You were intrigued by the slow crowd of people that started to gather around, and you noticed that they were all coming holding something for you guys to eat in hands. You weren't hungry and it didn't really interest you. But you were getting thirsty, and you could use them for later. You got off your bed and slowly started to walk towards them, looking around as you fumbled with your hands. You voted for "O" at voting time, so people with the same sign on them got more of your attention.

Most people were already seated and starting to eat, some were still waiting in line, and when you turned your head a little more to the side, your eyes fell on the two people already watching you. Realizing this, your movement slowed down and you started to stand next to the line. Your eyes went to their numbers without realizing it, you read them under your breath. "230 and..124?" You couldn't see the other person's number properly, his position didn't allow it. Still, they both looked familiar. The one with dyed hair was chattering about wanting everyone to be on his team before, the person who pressed the button after looking at the other team was the same person sitting next to him. You were thankful you weren't with them during the vote, because they were seriously a pain in the neck.

The other player you mentioned was looking at you with his face raised, you waved back out of habit, they must not have bad intentions.. you thought. You turn your head and are about to get in line when you notice one of them waving back at you lazily. A small giggle leaves you as you step into line.

Coming back with your hands full, you change your mind and walk down the metal stairs before climbing into your bed. When you reach their bed you notice them talking to each other, it takes a few seconds for them to realize you've arrived. "I saw you waving back at me," you mumble, turning your head to the long-haired man. "Oh- yeah I did." He answers briefly. As you open your mouth to speak again, his friend standing next to him interrupts. "But you were the first one to wave at my bro, so what?" Your expression changes momentarily and you answer quietly, letting out a shaky breath. "Well, I know-" "Then what is it?" He was really impatient. He didn't even let you finish your sentence.

"I know." A sound of surprise escaped your lips as you focused on where the sound was coming from. "You want to be with us, right?" "Why didn't you say so!" The purple haired boy nearly shouted, standing up to grab one of your hands and smiling. You hadn't even noticed the other man walk up behind you, your body flinched when you felt his hair fall over your shoulder.

As he took the items in your hands, he realized that you hadn't even opened them yet. "What's this? You're giving us your food?" "Seriously?" "Yeah bro, they didn't even touch them." The purple-haired man looks at his friend's hands, turning his attention away from you. "Sweeeet!" Shaking your hand he talked again. "That's what we're talking about bro!" With a nervous chuckle, you tried to pull your hands away from him, completely forgetting about the man standing behind you as you took a step back. You squeaked as you bumped into his chest. "Wow, wow- calm down." Your eyes involuntarily drifted towards his hands and you started reaching for your drink.

"Can I have it back?" He doesn't give you an answer as he opens the box with one hand. His other hand is on its way to the bed behind him, putting the other box down. He takes a few sips from your drink, ignoring you. "Not fair broo, share." That was.. awkward. After their yapping you went back to bed, crawling in it. As you were muttering something under your breath, a voice suddenly made you jump.

"What'd you say?" You sit up to see where the sound was coming from, your vision wasn't very clear 'cause of the lights being off as you blinked. You make an eye contact with a figure at the end of the bed, his face resting on his arms, his eyes narrowed. You spoke slowly, keeping your voice low. "Why are you here?" As the smile on his face slowly fades, he stands up. "You're not fun, can't I fucking come and have a chat with my teammate?"

"You're creepy." You said it so fast you didn’t even realize it came out of your mouth. After a short silence, he gets into bed and starts climbing towards you. "Fucking whore." He hissed under his breath, causing you to change your position so he can't reach you that easily. He stops right in front of you, one hand moving up to your chin, forcing you to look at him. "You have a mouth and you dare to use it on me, huh?" His grip tightened. His knees were touching your feet under the sheets, almost crushing them. He had a smile on his face that made you feel disgusted. His legs pressing into your thighs, holding you in place. It was obvious from the way he spoke that he was pissed, He hissed at you once more, closer to your face. "Answer me, you fucking-" He was talking in such a way that his saliva was coming to your face.

You narrowed one of your eyes and reflexively wiped the wetness off your face. "What am I supposed to say? Don't you think it's normal for me to be startled by someone talking out of nowhere?" Your voice was low, muffled by his grip. The expression on his face didn't change for a while, your eyes following him, realizing he was going to make a sudden move. When he takes his hand off your chin and you're about to bow your head, he suddenly grabs your chin again, even harder now. "Oh, did my saliva disgust you?" He says, in a way no different than the way he spoke before. "When I ask you a question, you can't speak..but you dare to wipe your face? .. Pathetic."

The pressure on his legs was increasing more, he didn’t let go of his grip, pulling your head down a little more. "You better get used to it, soon your whole face will be covered in nothing but my fucking saliva." His grip loosened, his fingers trailing down to your neck, the cold ring almost scratching your throat as you breathed heavily with your mouth open. His fingers move towards the back of your head, towards your hair, and wrap the strands of hair between his fingers.

"You didn't get a chance to drink anything, did you? Aww, poor baby, you must be thirsty." It was so obvious that he was mocking you and that he was enjoying it. Your mumbles were inaudible due to his tightness, he could only hear a few whispers you made for him to let go. "Now, now, don't you fucking dare to kick." He relieved the pressure on her leg, almost making it seem like he was sitting on your lap.

The smile on his face does not fall as his free hand grasps his lips, licking his teeth with his tongue. "Open up." You refused, you couldn't even breathe properly because of the things he did to you. His nail begins to press against your lip, the cold metal of his ring brushing against the tip of your jaw. You were thankful that his nails weren't long enough to make your lip bleed. "I know you're nothing but a fucking slut," pressing his nail against your teeth "now open your useless mouth before I make you coughing on your own blood." Even the thought made you shiver, opening your mouth wide, admitting your defeat.

Pressing his finger against the tip of your tooth he opens your mouth wider. "At least you're learning.." He adjusted his position and pulled himself back a little more. Since your eyes are half closed, you can't see him fully, your vision is limited. You hear a sucking sound and the next second you feel a wet feeling in your mouth. Before you could realize what the liquid in your mouth is, his fingers force you to cover your mouth, using one of his fingers to insert the part of it that is leaking from the corner of your lip. This movement causes you to swallow involuntarily. "Hah." After wiping his wet finger on the corner of your cardigan, he takes it back to its previous place. "What a slut we have here.." You couldn’t speak as you let out quiet breaths, the realization that your words wouldn’t convey anything to him only made you feel worse. His voice was coming from throat, there was a feeling inside the way he talked that you couldn't figure out.

"You fucking enjoyed it, didn't you? The feeling of my juices in that dirty mouth of yours excites you? Yeah? Freak. " He said the last part more slowly. Your breathing had somewhat got better, but all you could do was grip the sheets beneath you and try to keep your eyes open. Underneath his giggling he slowly started to move away from you, sitting on the sheets. "Guess you're not thirsty anymore." One of his hands brushes against the sheet while your hands moving to cover your mouth. After sighing, he moves to the corner of the bed, and a small grunt is heard when he hears your voice. "Wait-" "What?" He looks at his own hands, raising an eyebrow. You didn't even know why you stopped him, after a few seconds of silence you took your hand off your mouth and as you opened your mouth to speak you heard a 'pfft' sound.

He did it again. "Hell, keep your mouth shut." Reaching out from the corner of the bed, he gives your legs a little squish. "Okay, done, happy?" He says quickly as he fixes his own clothes and hair, his hands clasped together and his eyes turn to you. You swallowed it again with momentary tension, You let out an annoyed sigh and put your hand to your head. Even though you couldn't see his look, you knew he was smiling like crazy, with one last word before he left, leaving you there devastated and overwhelmed.

"Nam-gyu."

Well, at least you know his name now.

[taintandviolent]

new tattoo ; Eric Draven x Reader

summary: You’re visiting your friend, Chance, for a new tattoo; a chest piece. While he's working, one of his friends comes over to chill; someone you've never seen before. His name is Eric Draven.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.5K | female reader, smut, unprotected sex, kissing, canon divergence/alternate universe (technically), neck kissing, tattoo needle mention, sex in someone else's apartment, hook-ups.

a/n: Shelly doesn't exist in this -- all in the name of reader getting fucked good n' hard. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

It’s been about an hour since Chance started on your newest tattoo; a beautiful chest piece of a bat, nestled perfectly below your breasts. The room is filled with the hypnotic buzzing of the tattoo gun, and whatever music is playing on his speakers. You tap your fingers on the table beneath you, a staccato rhythm against the smooth leather.

The light is angled over your chest, illuminating the nakedness of your torso for Chance – who is completely unfazed by the lack of clothing. He’s working, and despite doing tattoos out of his apartment, he is ever the professional. You, on the other hand, enjoyed flashing your tits whenever you got the opportunity. You could’ve brought pasties, sure, but why bother? He’s already tattooed spiderwebs around your nipples, it’s not like this is something new.

Knock knock knock. Your eyes move first, but your head follows stiffly, careful not to move your torso too much and cause an error. 

“Do you wanna’ get that…?” You ask. Chance shakes his head. 

“It’s open!” He shouts without pulling his attention from your tattoo. A thrill runs through you; whoever is about to open the door is going to get an eyeful. 

The man that walks through the door stuns you. Literally. It takes everything in you not to let your jaw hang slack like a fool, like a teenage girl who has just seen the hot new guy. He’s tall, easily surpassing six feet, wears a black jeans, and a sheer tank top that allows you to see through the fabric, letting you see all the ink that decorates his toned torso. Your eyes dance over his tattoos, wondering passively which ones Chance did. You recognize his style in quite a few pieces. Your gaze holds a weighted bias; you do love an inked up man. But even if he weren’t, you think your reaction would be the same. 

“What’s up, man?” 

“Nothing,” he says casually, his voice low and smooth. There’s a sadness there, something that you want to reach your fingers into and pull out, but you refrain, watching him quietly as he approaches the couch to your left. 

Chance pauses, pulling the gun from your chest, to introduce you to the nameless friend.  He fist bumps him and nods to you. “This is Eric.” 

“Hi Eric,” you say with an obvious, enticing smile in your voice, extending your hand nonchalantly upwards to him. You don’t seem to shy away from the fact that your tits are just… out, but Eric seems daunted by the visuals – god, is he shy? Your stomach clenches at the thought. The way he’s desperately trying to avoid looking at them is cute, and you feel your smile widen further. You let out a tittering laugh, and push your hand closer to him, urging him to take it.

“It’s okay, they’re kind of unavoidable right now…” you confess, assuring him that any glances won’t be met with a smack across the face. Secretly, you welcome them, wanting his pretty green eyes to trail over every inch of your body until he has it memorized, or can’t resist touching you. Either or. He chuckles, breathily, and takes your hand, giving it a gentle shake. Like the rest of his body, his hand is covered in tattoos, and you can’t help but play with his long fingers as he pulls away. As your hands break apart, you suppress the urge to reach for it again, pulling it back to you. Eric takes his place on the sofa, grabbing a cigarette from the pack that lies on the table. You hear the flick of the lighter, and the familiar scent fills the room.

Chance’s hands return to your chest, laying carefully atop your skin. The hypnotic puncturing of the tattoo needle lulls you into a relaxed state, but every time you look over, Eric’s enchanting green eyes dart away, feigning innocence. He looks at the window, Chance’s bookcase, anything that isn’t you. Each time, you smile, feeling like the butterflies in your stomach are going to rupture through the layers of your skin.

When you finally catch him, his eyes are sweeping along your body, watching as your chest rises and falls with each breath, watching as Chance draws on your skin, creating a permanent piece of artwork to be admired, though you gather that he’d rather admire the artwork that was your body. After painting your form with his gaze, his eyes finally meet yours, and as though by supernatural force, you hold him there, squeezing as tightly as you possibly can. He doesn’t look away, and you blink your eyes slowly, affectionately, like a cat. Eric’s full, pink lips pull up in a crooked smile, and he looks down at his hands, nodding softly. You wonder what he just agreed to in his head. There’s an undeniable draw to him, a pulling sensation deep in your stomach, and you think, with the way his eyes dance over your face, he feels it too. 

Chance interrupts the staring contest going on between the two of you. “Alright, I think we’re finished. There’s a full length mirror in the bathroom.” 

Carefully, you sit up and scurry to said bathroom. There’s a few moments of silence until it’s shattered by a high-pitched squeal; your reaction can be heard throughout the apartment. The bat is hanging perfectly between your breasts, clinging to a crescent moon, and looking so real that it might just flap away at any moment. 

“Chance!” You rush back into the living room, and clap your hand over your mouth for a moment before speaking. “Chance, oh my god, I love it! Thank you so much!” 

“What do you think?” You turn around, bouncing on your heels excitedly. Eric’s pupils dilate, black amongst the green. He watches as your ample cleavage jiggles with your enthused little steps, and makes a fist on his knee. You can see the wheels turning as he coaches himself to focus on the tattoo, to stop staring at your tits and actually comment something useful. 

“It’s really sick, man. Nice work.” 

Chance thanks him with a handshake before tapping the table again. He has a piece of Saniderm on his lap, cut to size and ready to cover up your new ink. Eric watches, knowing the process well. 

Once you’re sealed up, you hop off the table and reach for your shirt and the wad of cash that’s tucked in your pocket. You pass the cash to Chance, and shake out the tank top. Eric almost seems sad to see you get dressed, watching silently as you pull the sheer grey tank top over your head – as though it really covers anything. It’s sheer enough to see the tattoo through, and your nipples are two peaks in the fabric. 

“Hey, I’ll be back. I gotta do a tattoo downtown. You guys gonna chill here?” 

You both exchange a glance, and seeing nothing wrong with that proposal, you shrug. Eric nods his head. “Sure, we’ll hang here.” 

“Cool, cool. I’ll be back in a couple hours.” 

And just like that, you two are alone. The silence hangs heavy between you two, an adolescent awkwardness crackling in the space between your bodies. You clear your throat. He raises his attention to you, brows lifted on his forehead. 

“So… how about a tattoo tour?” 

“A… tattoo tour?” He asks, confused. 

‘Yeah, y’know. I show you mine, you show me yours.” You pause, looking into his eyes, letting the innuendo land as heavy as he allows it to. “What they mean, where we got them, so on and so forth.” 

“I get tattoos because I like them… a lot of mine are just…” 

“I don’t care,” you say, standing up. “I want to see them.” 

He stands up, and you crane your neck to look up at him. Now that you’re next to him, the size difference is staggering. “Holy fuck, you’re tall.” 

He chuckles, and tosses his shirt on the sofa. You mimic the action, tossing your own shirt over to join his. Taking it a step further, you pull your grey sweats down your hips and step out of the circles. You take a step closer, fingers outstretched to touch him. You start at his hairline. 

“Face tattoos... crazy. Commitment is off the charts.” 

Again, he laughs. 

“To someone?” Bold. Your fingers continue their path over his shoulders.

He shakes his head solemnly, fingers trailing over a quote on your forearm. “No. Not to anyone.” 

So he’s single. Good. His hands scan over your tattooed arms, ghosting over the flesh like a nervous lover. His thumb rubs over the tattoo just before the crook of your arm – a portrait of a cat. 

“My cat. She died.”

He furrows his brows, knowing the staggering sensation of loss. You hum, and continue your exploration of his body, digits gently raking over each piece of artwork that decorates his toned physique. Your fingers trail over the giant eye that stares at you from his sternum, trailing over the rays that come off it. You ghost over his biceps and his highly-inked forearms, your fingertips tasting each tattoo. 

Finally, you reach his torso, his abdomen. All taut skin and muscles. He reaches between your breasts, lightly tracing the new addition. It’s still tender and warm underneath the plastic. He smiles.

“Why is good crossed out?”

“Hm?” He looks down. Your finger hovers over the GOOD BOY tattoo.

“Are you not a good boy?” You ask, dropping the pad of your finger to his skin, and outline the words carefully. “Why’s it crossed out?” 

His cock stirs in his jeans at your delicate touch. It doesn’t help that you’re so close to him. “I don’t think I am, no. Not with all the shit I’ve done.”

A laugh tumbles from your lips and your hand trails farther down, caressing the centipede that curves past the waistband of his jeans. You long to go deeper, but in a shocking act of good behavior, you start to let your hand drop to your side. Eric’s large hand catches it at the wrist, encircling it with ease.

“Don’t… stop… please?” 

Your eyes light up with a tantalizing mixture of lust and disbelief. 

“Eric,” you mutter almost tauntingly, tasting his name on your tongue. “I can’t see the rest. You’ve got clothes on…” 

The statement is a weighted one, but it’s also factual; the clothes are impeding you from seeing the inevitable ink that decorates his lower body. His gaze drifts from yours to the couch again, before he takes long, careful steps, dragging you with him. His grip is soft but stern, his fingers circling your wrist like a shackle. 

“Sit with me.” His voice is soft, subdued, barely above a whisper and dripping with an eroticism that you want to wrap yourself in. Instead of pulling him next to you, he pulls you harshly down on top of him. Your legs spread on either side of his hips, straddling him. Between your legs, pressed against the fabric of your jeans is a growing stiffness. You look at your bodies, pressed together and spot the bulge in his jeans, considerably more prominent than before. You laugh through your nose – it’s a giddy chuckle, one that tumbles out of your mouth with an elation behind it. Hearing your laugh, Eric looks up, his brows pulling together. 

“I don’t usually do this,” he confesses. You can tell, he’s worried you’re laughing at him, poking fun at his desperation – which couldn’t be farther from the truth. To remedy that, you lean down and press your mouth against his pouted one, feeling the firmness of his chin against yours. It takes a moment, but eventually, his soft, pink lips relinquish and press back against yours. You nip at his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He grants it, and your tongue swipes along his, teasingly. 

He’s warm against you, the heat comes off his skin in waves. You wrap your arms around his neck and tug your body closer like you’re trying to melt together. His hands find your ribcage and sink downwards, trailing over the curve of your waist, and the gentle flare of your hips. You shudder into his touch, contentedly. His hips twitch up into you, pressing his hardening cock into your heat. 

“Eric,” you breathe into his open mouth. “I think you’re really hot.” 

He nods against your lips, wordlessly agreeing that the feeling is mutual. You inhale his scent as it mingles with your own and pull back, resting your forehead on his. 

“I wanna’ see the rest of your tattoos…” you whisper. Your fingers play with his hair at the nape of his neck, twirling the dark strands gently.

Eric separates from you, just enough to bring his hand up between your bodies, to cup your cheek, completely enveloping it with its size. He looks at you, memorizing all the features of your face. He seems satisfied with whatever he sees, and pulls you back in for a fiery kiss, his tongue slipping out to wrestle with yours. 

Your hands are the ones that are wandering now, finding the button of his jeans. Breaking the kiss to free his cock, you pause to admire it. Framed by a thatch of dark hair, it’s long like the rest of him, and the head already weeps with anticipation. You pull his jeans down his hips and underneath his ass, tugging until they’re pooled at his ankles, over top his combat boots. His legs are heavily tattooed too, but your attention is elsewhere. Greedy to feel the warmth in the palm of your hand, you reach forward, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, your thumb swiping over the tip. Just as you expected; throbbing, velvet warmth. As your thumb spreads the bead of precum down the head, down the length of it, Eric’s breath hitches. 

You look up. 

He’s watching you. Intently. His eyes are locked on your hand as it moves, teasing him. Like he feels your gaze on him, without moving his head, he looks up at you. There’s a deep, deep longing in his eyes, a desperation and a plea to continue… he’s begging without saying a word. He longs for the comfort of pleasure, of knowing someone intimately. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s been with someone, how long his apparent loneliness has consumed him.

Taking a breath, you let go of his dick and straighten up. Your fingertips scrape along your own hips, dipping underneath the elastic of your underwear, catching them on your hand. You continue sliding your hands down your legs, taking your underwear with them. Once you're free of them, Eric’s eyes flicker from tattoo to tattoo, but come to rest on your face, looking deep into your eyes. You suck your bottom lip, catching it between your teeth and return to the couch, straddling him once more. Tenderly, he kisses a heated line from your neck down to your breasts. His lips press against one of the aching, swollen peaks before drawing it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple. You look down, watching him and let out a particularly pornographic whimper. It feels so fucking good… he’s so attentive.

You’re on your knees, but he’s big enough to reach you, even there. Eric’s dick twitches against your aching center, twitches up between your folds. You whimper, nodding, granting him whatever permission he needs. It’s enough, because he reaches down, taking himself into his hand, and after a few strokes, he lines it up with your wet slit. He kisses you as he pushes himself into you, as though it lessens the shock of his thick cock as it breaches your slick heat. Your jaw comes down, poised in a silent scream as he splits you open, finding comfort within your clenching walls. 

He jerks his hips once, burying himself all the way inside. A deep, throaty groan erupts between you two, and you wrap yourself around him tight, supporting yourself on his neck. You raise yourself off his cock slowly, feeling the slick tug as it slides out. Your walls clench around it like they’re desperately trying to pull it back in, and you grant them their wish, slamming yourself back down on his cock with a high-pitched whine. You find a quick rhythm of bouncing on his cock, and Eric tenses underneath you, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Oh my god.” 

You nod, already breathless. Though you’re in control of the speed, his cock is bullying, and the tip kisses your cervix every time you lower down onto it. Your breaths are replaced by moans as you ride him, bouncing on his length with reckless abandon. 

Mid-movement, Eric suddenly grips your hips tight, freezing you in place. You look down at him, pupils blown wide with lust, but perplexed. He’s focused on your cunt with his debauched expression; slack-jacked and heavy lidded with lust. He bucks his hips up hard, slamming into you with a renewed fervor. You jerk forward, collapsing into his shoulder. Silently, you thank god for the music that’s cutting the heavy sound of his hips as they slam against you and the wet squelch of your cunt as it swallows him whole, otherwise, you’d be almost embarrassed. You hold yourself up on your knees, letting Eric do the work. 

“Fuck yeah, baby… you feel so fuckin’ good…” he growls, one hand slithering around to grip the firmness of your ass. He kneads the soft, pliable flesh with his massive hand, pulling a desperate, whimpering moan from your lips. He feels so good. Your senses are consumed with him; the way he looks at you, hungrily, deeply, like he’s trying to unravel you from the inside out. The way he smells, cologne, the faint lingering scent of cigarettes, and the heady mix of mutual sex and sweat as he continues his assault on your dripping cunt. The way he feels, fucking into you with an insatiable hunger, like he’s trying to get deeper than he actually can. Everything about him is consuming you and you quickly feel yourself growing obsessed with him. 

The coil in your stomach winds tight around itself, a building pressure deep in your core. Your breaths are ragged, broken with pleasurable whines and moans, as he buries himself inside you over and over again. 

“Fuck, Eric… fuck, don’t stop… don’t you dare stop…! Shit!” 

His hand abandons its place on your cheek and comes to rest between your legs. His middle and ring finger slide down to your entrance, feeling his own cock as it slides in and out; slick and coated in mutual arousal. He grits his teeth, bringing some of the slickness around to your clit, where he encircles it with tight movements with his thumb. Electricity courses through your veins, and you shudder at the explosion of white, hot  heat on your cunt, your eyelids fluttering shut in bliss. 

You feel his muscles draw up tight as he slams into you with one final, hard thrust. His cock twitches as he releases, pumping his essence deep inside your cunt. You feel it flood you and leak out the sides, running down your thighs and dripping heavily onto his. Languidly, Eric thrusts his cock up into you, feeling every clench, fucking the cum back up into you as it dribbles out. The feeling of that paired with his ministrations on your cunt makes you come. Hard. You let out a deafening moan as your spasming walls clamp down on his cock, milking it as your own orgasm washes over you. You seize up, back arching with pleasure, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red, indented crescent moons amongst the ink. 

“Fuck m-me… oh my god…. Oh my god, Eric!” 

Eric’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, still coming down off the high of the fuck. Sweat glistens on his forehead and chest, and you run your hands along the length of his torso, scraping your nails against the skin. 

“That was fuckin’ amazing,” he pants, his hands coming to rest atop your thighs. His cock softens inside you, and you almost don’t want to move. But… this isn’t your apartment and while Chase has seen your tits, he hasn’t seen you fully naked and it’s going to stay that way. 

You lift up, letting Eric’s heavy, flaccid cock fall from your cunt. You wince as you straighten up, backing off the couch carefully. Your lips are spread in a delighted smile, watching Eric as you dress yourself, pulling your clothes back onto your sweaty, fucked out body. Eric reaches down to pull his jeans back up, tucking himself into the confines of the fabric. 

You plop down next to him, laughing lightly. “That was really great. I don’t think I’ve gotten fucked like that in a long time. Maybe ever.” 

“Ever?” 

“Ever.”

By the time Chance gets home, you’re both asleep on the small sofa, back to chest, and Eric’s arm wrapped sleepily around your waist. Chance knows what’s happened, but he doesn’t mention it when you wake up.

[anachronismstellar]

Luo Binghe stared into the void in front of him, the wisps of the dream realm clinging to his skin, making him hyper aware of his surroundings. It had been too long since any one had dared manipulate him in such a way, it would be a fools errand considering that he had long surpassed Meng Mo in skill and power.

Ah, there you are

Luo Binghe turned around and blinked as the void started to melt around him until he found himself in a distorted version of a room, the walls so tall he couldn’t see the ceiling, windows with thick bars all over it, showing only a glimpse of a starless sky. He tried to take a step forward, conjuring Xin Mo, finally noticing that the floor seemed to be covered in huge sheets of paper. Then it took him only a second to understand that the room wasn’t out of proportions, he was the one that was too small.

He looked up beyond the circle of light around him, blinking his eyes under the hash brightness of it until he got used enough to notice a massive shape of a man hiding in the darkness.

"Show yourself, coward!" He snapped as he shifted the best he could into a fighting stance. What if the enemy seemed to be ten, hundreds of times his current size? He had fought worse in the Abyss and walked victorious.

Come on, you can to do better than that

The voice replied instead of showing its face, reaching out towards Luo Binghe, plucking Xin Mo up from his hands as a parent taking away the toy of their child.

He fought for it, of course. He threw his best attacks, mental and physical, squashing down the wrong feeling crawling up his throat, the taste of fear an old forgotten lover. He couldn’t move, feet firmly glued down on never-ending paper, slowly starting to sink as if he were stuck on quicksand.

And during all of this, the man seemed unfazed. Binghe watched with awe and fury as he brought Xin Mo closer to his face, the glint of the blade reflecting on what seemed to be glass in front of his enemy's eyes.

Whoah she is so beautiful... I wish I had seen it before

Binghe let a vicious grin pull up his lips. Xin Mo might not be in his hands, but it didn't mean the sword was out of his reach. He lashed out, using his energy to push the weapon forward, going for the enemy's eyes, ice spreading through his veins as the sword ignored his command.

Such an unfilial son I have, tsk

And the sentence struck Binghe with enough force the Demon Emperor gasped for air, disguising his surprise with a snarl. He wasn't a religious man, never been and never would be. Whoever was playing with his mind should know better to use such a ridiculous notion to try to make him surrender.

God was dead and and the Heavens had abandoned the realms a long time ago.

Maybe, maybe not, who are you to know what God thinks or does, hn?

Came the answer as if able to see right through Binghe's mind.

"Cease this nonsense immediately, and I might show mercy when I find your wretched body!" He growled as he called upon all his demonic energy, feeling his Heavenly Demon mark burning between his brows.

Instead of screams and prays for mercy, all Binghe got was a laugh.

A laugh! How dare that son of a whore-

Aww you are too precious like this

A hand, bigger than a giant's reached for him. He flinched, throwing his arm in front of his face, feeling as helpless as a child raised by a washerwoman, preparing himself for pain. However, what he felt was the tip of a finger touching his hair and cheek in a caress that left Binghe speechless.

We are too similar, you and I.

The voice- no, his Creator- said with a odd heaviness to it, the weight of it making Binghe tremble.

Because who else would be able to strip him bare, to touch him without being bothered by the tar covering him soul, and call him beautiful despite of it?

Don't worry, I'm gonna be quick

And Binghe wanted to be over, he wanted for this dream to end and to be able to shield his heart again, he wanted to wake up and lose himself between his thousand of wives-

He wanted to stay there forever.

Some universes are not meant to be crossed

His Creator kept speaking as his power made the outline of Xin Mo glow red in the darkness, the sword humming in a low tone. And as quickly as it started, it was over.

There, take this, is dangerous outside, and the dark is filled with terrors or something like that

His Creator laughed once more as if mocking him, as if Binghe weren't the most dangerous person in the three realms.

Now, now, don't be like that

and this time he was ready for the gentle touch, the softness of it bringing tears to Binghe’s eyes.

To mock you would be the same as mocking me, wouldn't it?

Before he could even think of an answer, Xin Mo was back on his hands, light as a feather, cleaner as the first day forged.

Stay in your universe, Luo Binghe

His Creator commanded, touching his head in a delicate pat one last time.

---

"Qinghua?"

Airplane blinked as he turned to face his King, noticing that he might have spaced out for a while.

"Sorry, my King! This one apologizes, my mind was somewhere else!" He rushed to say, ignoring the mother of headaches pressuring his temples, the pain worsening every time he imagined for some random reason a mini Luo Binghe trying to fight him with a tiny Xin Mo.

But the idea was fun in a very 90s western movie way, he should talk to Cucumber-bro about it later. Maybe there was a plant that could shrink people? Oh! A mini Mobei-jun would be so cute-

Meanwhile, in another universe, Binghe woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, Xin Mo on his hand reflecting the moonlight.

------------

No one:

Me, at any possible moment in the past months: do you have a moment to hear the headcanon of God!Airplane- nononooo, please, it's just a moment!

[this-lovely-universe]

Lore Drop: Maisie unknowningly ruins her life.

Tw: Maisie kinda gets drugged, death, disturbing living conditions found?, get bit and scratched (although it's not super gorey), Me generally putting my ocs through it

Also warning, this is far longer than my other lore drops. like triple the length.

“Well, that was a fun car ride.” Willa chuckled, locking the car.

“I mean, it was a nice nap.” Maisie yawned, rubbing her eyes. “You sure this is the right place? It’s like, the middle of the woods.”

Willa swung her car keys around her finger, before stuffing them in her pocket. “Sketchy ass organsiation, sketchy ass location.” She shrugged. “You got the USB?”

“That fills me with such joy that they have my personal information.” She sighed. “Yeah, I got it.” She held it inside her jacket pocket.

“Again, still don’t understand why they can’t tell you about your parents. Was this place like an NPC they couldn’t get past for your parentage?”

Maisie laughed. “NPC…” She wheezed.

Willa smiled at her, before grabbing her hand and pulling her along.

“How are we meant to get into this place again? I assume it’s pretty specky.”

“I honestly doubt it. The owner is like 120 or something crazy.”

Maisie’s eyebrows shot up. “120?”

Willa hummed. “Surprised he’s not dust yet.”

She laughed again. “Alright, back to my question. What’s the plan?”

“Well, I’m not really sure. I don’t exactly want to scare all the kids.”

“They’re in the building? I thought this would be some sort of headquarters….”

“Nope. Don’t think the dust man’s that rich.”

Maisie smacked her shoulder. “Stop. This is supposed to be serious.”

“Since when was I ever serious, Mae?” She smirked. “Serious is boring anyway. You want serious, you’d date someone else.”

“Ew.”

Willa laughed, pulling her closer and wrapping an arm around her. “Did you just ew the thought of dating anyone else?”

“What? Why’d I want to have anyone else when I have you?”

“Plenty of reasons…” She sighed as they stood in front of the building.

It looked straight out of 1901. It looked dirty, whatever colour brick was caked with dirt and mud and discoloured from the sun.

“What the fuck happened to this building? It looks like it got jumped…” Maisie muttered

“What god did this building piss off…” Willa muttered too.

“Looks like all of them. Every god to ever exist.”

Willa sighed, going up to the door. She stopped, looking around. “Can you see any cameras?”

“I wasn’t exactly looking for them. I thought you meant they wouldn’t have security cause of dust man.”

“I meant alarms.” Willa sighed, getting her phone out. “Can you look?”

Maisie rolled her eyes stepping back to get a good look at the building. “Your logic is extremely flawed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She turned on her flashlight, shining it through the glass. “Maisie. Cameras?”

“Uh, I can’t see any… Let me check with my flashlight…” She pulled out a flashlight and turned it on. She shone it on the building walls.

It looked even worse in light. The brick was completely crackled and missing chunks on the edges. She didn’t trust this building to be very structurally sound.

“Well, no cameras, but this building doesn’t seem sturdy, if I’m honest.”

“Oh, great!” Willa replied sarcastically, before sighing. “Let’s check for a back entry.”

***

Look, Maisie couldn’t deny that Willa breaking into a building was kinda hot.

Either that or she was still kinda annoyed this cut into their makeout time.

The inside of the building was creepy as hell.

Firstly, it was modern. Like bizarrely modern. The building itself looked like it would be put on a historic landmark list but the inside was blindingly white, like a hospital.

Maisie swallowed, a wave of anxiety flooded her body. She didn’t like this. The building felt… off.

She stepped closer to Willa, taking her hand.

Willa squeezed it as she shivered. “Goosebumps…” She whispered.

Maisie nodded, before beginning to walk.

The further into the building they went, the worse the feeling got.

There was this low groaning, almost scream like. It sent shivers down Maisie’s spine. It was horrible, and brought tears to her eyes.

A part of her told her to grab Willa and run. To get the hell out of there before something terrible happened, but the other part, the far larger part, was itching to know what happened to her parents.

Did they die? Could they just not look after her? Did they not want her? The questions were endless, and she just needed to know.

She swallowed, as they turned a corner. The groaning got louder.

“I don’t like this.” Willa whispered.

Maisie went to agree when they saw a computer.

She has never seen Willa move faster. Literally, it was like she teleported there.

“Come on. We finally have it.” She went to turn it on.

“Wait, stop. Don’t turn it on.” She went over.

Willa raised her hands away from the button.

Maisie looked at it. It was dusty, extremely. “It’s a trap.”

“What?” She looked at her exasperatedly.

“A) There’s no chair, but this isn’t a standing desk. That’s extremely uncomfortable. B) It’s really dusty. Sure, dust isn’t exactly something you blink an eye at, but it’s on the keyboard. The front door’s right there; if some were to break in and want information, well, like us, they’d go for the first computer they find.”

Willa continued to stare. “Holy fuck, that was hot.”

She smacked her shoulder. “Shut up. We need to find the actual computer. Now, perferly. This place is even creepier on the inside.”

***

The building was like a maze. The chances are high that was done on purpose.

It made Maisie feel even more uneasy. She could swear that she’d turn her back for a moment and then three more identical hallways would appear from where they came from.

Each room/area was weirder. Some looked dungy and dirty, others looked straight out of the 1950’s. It was built to confuse you.

It was about 3am at this point, and they were both getting exhausted.

“Urgh, I just want to find an exit and sleep at this point…” Maisie mumbled.

“Me too…” Willa pulled her closer. “We’ve come this far though.”

“Willa, we’re literally lost in what seems to be a magic building. Let’s just go.”

“No. We’re going to get you answers.”

“Will… I don’t like this. We should’ve left once we came in.”

“Look,” She cupped her face with her hands. “I know this place is weird, but you’ve been-”

Alarms started going off, red lights started flashing.

“You know what, nevermind. Let’s leave. Now.” She grabbed Maisie and started running.

Whether it was the panic that immediately filled Maisie’s body or the alarm did something really fancy, the building managed to get even more complex.

Doors that were walls, dead ends, walls that were doors, windows that opened up to straight up dirt, 8 different hallways on one wall. It was enough to give you a headache and maybe a heartattack if you weren’t ready.

Willa was cursing, her grip tightening on just about ever corner. It was being to become painful at this point.

They eventually came to a dark room. No lights, no alarms. That’s weird…

“Why’s it dark in here?” She whispered as Willa tried to catch her breath.

There was scratching and… was that howling?

“Where’s a goddamn exit?” Willa hissed, pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight again.

It was a long hallway, it stretched down further than Maisie could see. There were glass on the walls.

It was amazing how quickly this place could get even worse.

“What the actual fuck…”

Willa kept walking, although she was the most tense Maisie had ever seen her.

“Maisie, come on…” She tugged her arm.

She moved forward, just staring in horror. “Willa, have you looked through the glass?”

“Have you?” She swallowed.

“No, I can’t see.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I want to know what’s behind the glass.”

The hallway panned out into a bigger room, the glass continued, making it look like an aquarium you couldn’t see into.

Willa walked forward, holding her breath. “It’s a dead end… A dead end. A fucking dead end!”

“Shh!” Maisie covered her mouth.

The scratching and howling that filled the hallway stopped. Willa finally dared to look at the glass.

An empty room was behind it. It was pretty empty, having nothing in it besides a pathetically small bed, and on top of that bed was a teddy bear, staring back at them.

The room itself was falling apart, water damage, chunks of concrete from the wall completely missing and on the ground.

“That’s-” She screamed, something knocking her down, biting hard into her arm.

She cried in pain, trying to throw the thing off, her eyes squeezed shut.

Willa screamed in horror. The thing let go of her arm.

“Willa, run!” She screamed, knowing her scream caught its attention.

Willa ran.

Maisie finally opened her eyes, looking up.

The thing that bit her ran past, heading straight in Willa’s direction.

It was huge, running on all fours and covered in fur.

“No no no…” She quickly got up, trying to ignore the deep pain in her arm. “Please run please run please-”

Willa, predictable as ever, came back, hitting the thing straight on with a fire extinguisher.

It did not like that.

It stumbled back, taking a moment to recover. Willa didn’t notice, she ran back to Maisie.

“No!” Maisie tried to warn, but the thing had recovered fast.

It slashed Willa’s back, sending her straight to the ground. And it continued to slash.

Willa screamed in pain.

Maisie ran and grabbed the fire extinguisher. She ran back over, starting to hit the thing over and over.

It hurt to do, physically. Her arm was soaking her jacket sleeve by now, and it burned.

The thing howled in pain, pulling away from Willa. She crawled out from underneath it.

Maisie paused, seeing the thing unmoving on the ground. She discarded the fire extinguisher, stumbling over to Willa. “Are you okay? Are you conscious? Please be conscious…”

“I’m conscious, Mae.” She muttered, laying on her side. “Oh, god, your arm!”

She looked down at it. The bite wrapped around her entire arm, and covered her entire forearm. You could see the saliva of the thing covering the bite and her sleeve, being mixed in with her blood.

She nearly passed out seeing it.

“Look away, Maisie.” Willa quickly said, knowing how squeamish she was.

She swallowed, quickly dropping down to Willa’s level. “Uh, your back-”

“Don’t you try and fix it. You’ll definitely pass out.”

“Willa, you’re going to bleed out if I don’t look.”

“Just give yourself- LOOK OUT!” She wailed.

Maisie just turned around to get scratched in the face, being thrown straight into one of the rooms, crashing through the glass.

She landed on the ground, hitting her head on a chunk of concrete.

She didn’t move after that, all sounds around her falling on deaf ears.

Everything felt like it stopped. Her included.

***

When she woke up, she was no longer in the room.

She was in a waiting room, in a line.

There was sobbing all around her, people crying out something that Maisie couldn’t work out.

She looked ahead of her, trying to work out what was happening, but before she could do that, she blacked out.

***

She jolted, feeling her body surge again.

It felt like her soul had been ripped in half and poorly sewn back together.

She felt someone drag her by her feet. She didn’t have enough energy to fight against it.

Her head pounded, there was so much pain she couldn’t even point out where it was.

Was she dead? No, right. Why would she be dragged by her feet in the afterlife? Well, why would she be dragged by her feet in general, but particularly why the afterlife?

She forced her eyes open, as whoever was dragging her dropped her legs, causing another wave of pain to vibrate up her body.

She held back a cry, just swallowing back any noise. She was scared that would cause more pain.

“She’s dead.” A deep voice spoke.

Maisie felt her chest tighten. Please tell her that Willa wasn’t dead.

“You’re sure?” Another voice asked. Wait, was that Willa’s dad?

He didn’t sound that sad. Willa couldn’t be dead then, unless her dad was secretly emotionless.

But why the hell was he here?

“Of course I’m sure!” The deep voice exclaimed. “You saw me check her pulse!”

“Just confirm, Ellis.” Willa’s dad sighed.

A man came into her view.

“Well, would you look at that…” He muttered as he stared down at her. She didn’t like that.

“What?”

“She isn’t dead. Give me the… whatever you call it.”

There was more movement, and Maisie tried to move away, but she barely moved.

“Don’t move. You’re not going to be able to.” Ellis muttered.

Ellis dipped out of her view for a moment, before reappearing.

He crouched down, gently turning Maisie’s head to the side, and holding it down.

Maisie tried to push him off, but she felt more like she was flopping like a fish than anything.

“Don’t fight.” He said softly. “I’m trying to help you.”

This didn’t feel like help in the slightest, but she didn’t have much more fight left to give, and she sure didn’t have enough to do anything.

All she could do was admit defeat, and that was horrifying.

She felt pressure on the side of her neck for a second, before it disappeared.

“30 seconds, right?”

“Yeah, maybe 45, considering everything.”

She felt really exhausted now, and her eyes were starting to close themselves.

One last wave of anxiety filled her. What the hell was going to happen? She was being knocked out in this sketchy place. Oh god, this-

***

Maisie’s body felt heavy.

Everything felt fuzzy. What happened? She felt exhausted, more exhausted than she ever had.

She rolled over, trying to go back to sleep, only to fall straight on the cold ground.

She groaned, prying her eyes open. She was met with chunks of cement right in front of her face.

She sat up quickly, immediately regretting that decision.

Right, firstly, this definitely wasn’t her bedroom.

She gasped, her mind racing as she remembered what she assumed was the previous night.

She looked down at her arm, the bite wrapped in bandages.

She swallowed, looking back up and around. Her chest tightening as the realisation hit her like a truck.

She was in one of the glass rooms.

I feel like I need to write AU stuff for these two after I finish Maisie's lore. They cannot catch a break.

@arisdaughter @childofthewargod @debacleofdaemons @radkatzzstuff

@that-girl-cupid @daonedaonlysk @hispanic-child-of-hermes @daddy-issues-and-mxrder

@gaygirldoodles @smileyalater @if-i-could-cry-i-wouldnt @hellincarnation @your-favorite-mess

If you want to be added, removed or if I forgot to tag you, let me know :)

[dancndiva83-blog]

Oh, this needs to happen with Cash in front of Blitzø. Something like this:

*Standing in the living room of Blitzø and Stolas apartment, fighting.*

C: (Says line from previous post.) “And another thing-”

S: (In a rage.) SHUT THE FUCK UP! (Both Cash and Blitzø stare at him.) How dare you, Sir. How DARE YOU come into YOUR SON’S HOME and think you have ANY RIGHT to criticize him. HE is a fine, honorable man who was there for me at my lowest and continues to put up with me when I’m being moody, depressed or just a down right privileged fuckhead. HE is the only proof that there is some goodness in this infernal realm, and that clearly came from his mother as you, Asshole, are the most repugnant, deluded, conceited, toxic piece of filth to have every crawled it’s way out of the pits of Tarturus.

C: (mildly confused) Uh…where?

S: (starts using his impressive height to back walk Cash towards the door.) Now I suggest that if you ever wish to have anything to do with your son, you learn to show him the respect he deserves. He has been through heartache after heartache after pain after misery all because his shithead father chose to use him instead of being a decent role model and abandon him when he needed you the most. You have used and hurt my Blitzy for the past fucking time. (When Cash is pressed up against the door, he places both hand on it and lowers himself within an inch of Cash’s face. Speaks in a low threatening tone) And if you ever make the man I love cry again, I will end you.

C: (fearful) Y-you can’t. You don’t have your p-p-powers.

S: Oh, I don’t need my powers to take care of trash like you. Blitzø has been teaching me how to use kitchen knifes to cook and I can easily filet you without breaking a sweat. (Brings a claw up under his chin and pokes it into the skin enough to draw blood) And he bought me a new skillet I’ve been itching to try.

*Cash, pale, runs out of the apartment. Stolas closes it and locks the door. Then he takes a breath and turns around to see a very stunned Blitzø staring at him, mouth slightly open.*

S: (slightly nervous) I-I’m sorry if that was too harsh…and for calling you ‘Blitzy’ since you don’t like it. I know he’s your father but he-”

B: Bend over…right now.

I am still really hoping that at some point during season 3 Stolas and Blitz get to talk a bit about this day they spent together as kids, like the question of 'Did Stolas eventually realize/come to the conclusion at some point that Paimon quite literally purchased Blitz to be his friend for a day?' still plays on my mind every now and then and I do hope we'll get an definitive answer to that sometime next season, idk man I just really want them to discuss that day again at some point

[just-some-random-blogger]

If I'm Going Too Fast

3 times Bill Weasley offered to help you with your wallpaper and the 1 time he didn't.

Bill Weasley x Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, fluff, angst, jealousy, irrationality, typos, etc.

A/N: the dividers + title are from the song reptilia by the stokes. also im using the Sweets & Sweeties cafe I thought up for my george (& fred) fics but its not necessarily the same universe.

@agreeeeeeeeeee tagging you because you said you wanted to see a 'i hate everyone but you' fic sksksks.

♦♦♦ Now every time that I look at myself ♦♦♦

"Hi!"

Bill lifts his eyes up from the papers he was reading and does a double take before coming to a stand. He wipes his lips, "hi! Hi... Sorry-"

You walk inside, surveying his office. You immediately spot the open window and the curtains billowing with the cold breeze. You sigh.

Bill notices the paper bag you held and scrambles to tidy his desk. Just as he's about to walk over to you, you walk over to the window.

"It's cold, Bill," you mutter, reaching for the window.

In a few wide strides, he manages to take your wrist. You turn; he takes the bag from your hand and closes the window himself, "I know."

His red hair blows into his face, the last thing the wind does before it is forbidden entry by the glass pane. Bill turns back to you, then inspects the paper bag, though he already knew it was something you got him for lunch.

"Cake," you mutter, stepping forward, to brush his locks to the side.

He lifts his gaze and nods, "thank you, darling."

You raise and knit your brows simultaneously. His cerulean eyes were pinkish from exhaustion. The freckles littered across his cheeks were weighed down by the same pressure weighing his gaze. Still, his dry lips curve into a smile for you. You press your hand to his cheek, "is something wrong?"

His reaction is immediate. He sighs and leans into your touch. He moves the bag away and snakes an arm around your waist, "none more than yesterday," he leans his forehead on your temple, "business as usual."

You would have enjoyed the kiss he pressed on your cheek more if his words actually brought you comfort instead of concern. Business as usual to him was working himself to the bone. Your hand comes to his chest, rubbing up his collar to straighten it, "William."

His shoulders tense. He slowly pulls away.

You share a look and a sigh falls from his lips. He rubs your back, "I'm-"

"Bill, there's another-"

Both your gazes shoot to the door. The man who opened it immediately goes silent at the sight of the two of you.

Bill clenches his jaw, "did you not see her walk into my office?"

"Bill," you turn to him, "he didn't."

"I didn't," the man mutters softly, raising papers, "I was intructed to-"

"I don't care," Bill points, "get out."

The man lowers his gaze and leaves without a single word.

"Bill," you repeat.

He releases his hold on you, unwanting to hear a lecture. He walks back to his desk and waves a hand, "they know better than to disturb me when you're here."

"But you shouldn't have-"

"He should have knocked," he places the bag on his desk, pulling the boxed cake out of the bag. He stares at it for a moment, realizing that it was only one slice. He turns to you with knit brows.

You sigh, "I'm not staying for lunch."

His lips part, "but-"

"I have to go pick up some wallpaper for the store."

"Oh?" he puts the cake down, "what's happened to the walls?"

You shake your head, "nothing. Just want to put new wallpaper."

He nods and walks over, taking your hand, "I can try to leave work early today to help you pick some out."

You let him pull you in again. You smile and prop your hand on his shoulders, momentarily kneading out the strain on his firm muscles, "you know if you have to try, that means you can't, right?"

A line instantly forms between his brows, "I-"

You smother his answer with your lips and wet the dryness of his mouth with your affection. Bill melts, immediately succumbing to your warmth. His arms loop around you, pulling you closer to him, as if eager to fuse your bodies together. Your own arms slink their way around his neck, bringing him closer to your height.

You pull away to catch a breath. He chases after you with a whimper, silently pleading to meld his tongue with yours. You rub your noses together, "don't work too hard, Mr. Weasley."

He furrows his brows as his nostrils flare. He brushes his knuckles against your cheeks, "I promise to try lea-"

"Bill," another man interrupts, "about the— bloody hell-"

Bill snaps over his shoulder, "get the f-"

"Sorry! I'll go-"

"No, wait!" you raise a hand, "I was just leaving." You pull away and kiss his cheek.

"You are?"

You smile sweetly at him before jogging to the door. You smile at the man, who clearly had something important to tell him. You mutter, "good luck."

He clenches his jaw as he turns to Bill.

♦♦♦ "I thought I told you, this world is not for you" ♦♦♦

"There you are."

You turn, finding Bill jogging up to you.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, love," he sighs the moment he is beside you, "why'd you run off?"

You raise a brow at him, feeling a chill run down your spine when his hot hand comes to your bare back, "wearing this dress was a mistake."

Bill pulls his head back, examining your form fitting, drop-back dress, "what? Why would you say that?" he glides his nails up and down your spine, "you look stunning."

Goosebumps form on your arms, "look at what everyone else is wearing."

He doesn't. He tilts his head instead, "what does it matter what everyone else is wearing?"

"Because!" you quip under a whisper, taking a step closer, "this is a work gathering."

"It's a soiree," he squeezes your arms, brows knitting at the feel of your pricked skin. He rubs both of your biceps.

"Yeah," you huff, "with all your co-workers and bosses present."

"You look incredible, baby. Better than anyone here—"

"Bill-"

"I promise you, you wore the perfect dress for the occasion."

"That is not what they're saying."

His smile crumples into a weighted frown, "what?"

You lean your head into your hand.

"Who says?"

"It doesn't matt-"

"No, it does matter," he tilts his head, "did someone give you a hard time over your dress?"

You huff, taking his arm, "it wasn't like that. I just... I overheard a someone mutter something about 'Mr. Weasley's flaunty plus one'."

His jaw slacks.

"I didn't think my back would cause such a scene."

"It shouldn't," he snaps, looking around the room with narrows eyes, "how dare they speak of you like this when I only agreed to attend at your encouragement."

"Hey," you pout at him, "this is a big night for Gringotts."

He turns back to you, "so?"

You tilt your head and take his cheek, "Bill..." you smooth the crease between his brows, "you're one of the reasons why they're celebrating."

"It feels rather opposite right now," he turns to you, "I'd much rather help you pick out wallpaper for your shop."

You chuckle, tucking hair behind his ear, "your brothers already helped me pick out wallpaper, sweetheart."

His lips part, "... they did?"

You nod, "it's bright and floral," you rub his chin, "you'd hate it."

He purses his lips, leaning into you with a disagreeing headshake, "I could never hate something you like."

You chuckle, causing his lips to curl upward. Your eyes widen when he pulls you in for a kiss, feeling his tongue dart out to your lips. You and immediately pull away, "William Arthur Weasley."

"What?" he secures a hand on your hip.

"As if it's not bad enough—"

"Darling, they're already talking," he cuts you off, "might as well give them someone interesting to talk about."

♦♦♦ The room is on fire as she's fixing her hair ♦♦♦

Bill stops in his tracks upon seeing you in the lobby. The suitcase in his hand felt so suddenly like it weighed a tonne. The wand in his coat jacket silently screamed to be drawn and that a hex from its master's lips be drawn with it.

You laugh. It makes his eye twitch.

He calls out your name; it echoes in the large expanse of the room and time stops for a moment.

You turn and only then is your attention averted from the two men who also looked out to see who was calling for you.

"Ah, Weasley," one says, raising a hand to him.

Bill's jaw sets as he strides over.

The other man beside you whispers in your ear. Bill's body tenses at how you cover your mouth as you laugh, only to use the same hand to slap the man's arm.

Bill calls out to you again. You smile, "hello, darling. Ready to go?"

"Oh, no, don't take her away," one slaps a hand on Bill's shoulder, "we've only just started.

"Donovan," the other slap's the hand off Bill, "watch your hand. Lest you get the curse-breaker to curse you."

"Oh," Donovan pulls his hand away, "right, Bartholomew."

You look between the two men and chortle, covering your mouth with your fingers. Donovan, Bartholomew, and Bill look at you. The latter is deeply unimpressed by how you smiled at the two.

"What's got your knickers in a twist now, smarty pants?" Donovan asks.

Bill tenses at the mention of your knickers.

You punch Donovan's shoulder, "it's just so silly that you go by your first names!"

Donovan rubs his arms, feigning injury. Bartholomew tilts his head, "that we go by our first names?" He chuckles, "what should we ought to go by?"

You scoff and stare at them like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Don and Bart."

Don and Bart? Bill's jaw clenches. Who were these ninnyhammers?

They groan at your words where you snigger, reaching out for Bill. When you take his arm and finally come to his side, his irritation is partially tempered, but Don and Bart are still at it.

Bart mutters, "horrendous."

"Agreed," Don shakes his head, "we're not 14 anymore."

"Says the not-14-year-old who still the expression knickers in a twist—" you point, "when I was laughing too!"

Don raises his hands in surrender, "you know what I meant. You're easy to get a reaction out of."

"Yeah," Bart says, "were-"

"How do you know each other?" Bill snaps, patience worn to inexistence.

You recognize his tone and squeeze his arm.

Bill does not turn to you, eyes too busy skimming the two.

You respond gently, "we were batchmates in Hogwarts, love."

"Ah," Bill says through a glare, "you work for the bank now?"

"Yeah," they say in unison, "we-"

Bill doesn't wait; he turns around and starts walking off, bringing you along with him. You whimper, looking over your shoulder as you try to keep up with his long strides, "Bi-"

"How long have they been talking you up?!" he mutters, eyes fixed upon the exit.

"Talking me up?" you mutter as you jog beside him, squeezing his arm as you did, "they weren't-" you gesture with two fingers, "talking me u—"

Bill's dry laughter cuts you off.

You huff, trying to slow him down by pulling him back. He's too strong to stop.

You both reach the door, and the moment you're outside, you yank your arm away from him and pull back, "that wasn't what w-"

"I recognize them," he snaps, hand tightening on the handle of his suitcase, "they were eyeing you in the soiree."

You huff and wrap your arms around yourself when a cold breeze whips between the two of you. Your hair is blown into your face, but you make no move to comb it back, "yeah... they said they saw me at the soiree but couldn't believe that it was me, which was why they didn't appro-"

"They didn't approach because-" he slaps a hand to his chest, "- I was with you."

Your face tenses. You rub your arms.

You watch him pace for a moment. You draw in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for how he'll react to what you'll say next, "Don and Bart are my friends. I happen to be glad that they came up and talked to me."

Bill's freezes, his jaw feathering at your admission.

"We were just chatting, Bill," you mutter, finally tucking your hair behind your ear, "I promise you, it was nothing more."

"To you," he motions, "I bet they feel so high and mighty now that they're bankers."

You step forward, "I don't think that. I used to help them with their homework, for Godric's sake. They'll never b-"

"Why didn't you just go to my office?" a line forms between his brows as he shakes his head, "you know you're more than welcome to do so."

You lower your head and shrug, "I don't want you to become mean to-"

"I told you, they know better to—"

"Would you stop cutting me off?" you blurt, face tightening as you look back at him, "had I waited in your office, I would have just stared into space, but a while ago, at least, I got to talk with someone I hadn't in a while."

Bill's shoulder's slump. His face hardens, "what did you even talk about?"

You stare at him for a moment. Irritation rises up your neck, pulling a scoff from your lips, "work. Life."

"Wallpaper?"

You pull your head back, "what?"

"Did you tell them about the wallpaper I was going to help you put up over the weekend?"

You watch his face go red from the cold and his anger. You shake your head in disbelief, "do... do you think I made it look like we aren't together?"

"Well, you might have forgotten that-"

"Everyone in Gringott's knows we're together Bill," you feel your throat tighten, "everyone except you I think."

You both stare at each other for a moment. Bill feels a shiver run down his spine as you brush your hair back, revealing how your eyes sparkled with tears. He huffs and mutters your name.

"Go home by yourself tomorrow," you dismiss, walking off with not a care if he followed or not.

♦♦♦ "You sound so angry, just calm down, you found me" ♦♦♦

The bell at the front door jingles.

"Welcome to Weasley's Wizard Wh-" Fred emerges, "Bill!

Bill looks around, tightening his hold on the flowers he had.

"Aww," Fred places a hand on his chest, "you didn't have to."

Bill pulls the flowers away before his brother can get it. He raises his brows, "they're obviously not for you."

"I beg to differ," he smirks and crosses his arms, "if they weren't, you'd be next door at Sweets & Sweeties havin' a cuppa with your sweetie."

He merely stares at Fred.

"And George," the younger Weasley motions with his head.

"George?" Bill frowns.

Fred nods, "George."

"What's he doing there?" the elder Weasley turns to the wall, as if he could see through it.

"I hate to break it to you, brother, but brother's gone off to steal your girl," Fred walks off, leaving Bill to follow. He knew better than to believe George would ever do such a thing, but it still got him high-strung, just as Fred intended. The latter continues, "he's helping your sweetheart with the wallpaper you were supposed to be helping with while you're too busy being jealous."

"Why'd you think I brought flowers?" Bill snaps.

Fred turns, "for me!" and tries to snatch the flowers.

Bill dodges and pushes him back with a glare.

The younger recoils then clears his throat, "right. So..." he shrugs looking back at Bill, "why are you here then?"

"Because she's not there, Fred!"

"I just told you she's there!"

"WHY WOULD I BE HERE IF I SAW HER-"

"YOU OBVIOUSLY NEED GLASSES, OLD MAN!"

For a moment, the Weasley brothers stare at each other. He gives Fred a searing gaze, but his resolve remains. He knows then he's not lying.

"Unbelievable!" Bill huffs, storming out.

Fred presses his lips together then waves, "come back soon!"

The bell rings again as Bill leaves. He walks over to the shop next door, finding the store to be, indeed, empty. He debates going back in, but he didn't want to be blindsided if in case the twins were in fact playing a trick on him.

He quickly realizes there were no tricks upon hearing the sound of laughter coming from the end of the street.

You and George each had a paper bag clutched to your chest as you walked with your arms linked. He thinks of Fred's words: George was going to steal you. He clenches his jaw, feeling irrational at what was clearly an offhanded teasing remark from his idiot brother.

And yet... there it was, the same impatience he felt just yesterday with Don and Bart. He turns to his feet, crushing the stems of his flowers with how frequently he squeezed them.

"Bill!" he hears his brother call.

He looks up, finding George grinning at him. You merely stared.

"We were just talking about you- aw!" George winces, turning to you, "what? It's true."

Bill stays put as you both walk over. You avoid his gaze, even going as far as hiding behind George. His brother is quick to shimmy out of the way though, "interested in the back of my jumper much?"

You don't have a moment to respond as George takes the paper bag from you, lurching forward in faux struggle, "wow," he exaggeratedly grunts, "this is heavy! I'll go put them inside."

Neither of you speak as George walks into your shop. The bell rings as the door opens and closes. You lick your lips and turn to your feet.

"For you," he offers the flowers.

You slowly look up. You can see he looks like he didn't sleep very well and yet you can't help the words itching inside your mouth, "aren't you worried George is talking me up?"

Bill's nostrils flare.

You clench your teeth.

"I don't like it when we fight," he mutters.

"I'm not fighting," you shrug, "I'm telling you what you told me."

He lowers the flowers. A line forms between his brows, "what do you want me to say?"

Your lips part and your heart drops. Your brows furrow, "wh-" you shake your head, "what did you come here to say?"

"I came here to make peace."

"Oh, but you're not going to apologize?"

He scratches his nose, that was the thing, "I can't help the way I feel."

"What? You shake your head, "what about how I feel?" you quip, "how you made me feel?"

Bill lowers his gaze.

"No, you can't help the way you feel, but you can help the way you react. It's not my fault you think Don and Bart like me."

"I know it isn't but I-" he cuts himself off with a laugh. He brushes his hair back, frustrated by what was happening. He speaks slowly, as if it would help you understand, "I can't help the way I feel."

You look at him in silence.

Bill looks everywhere else but at you.

You cross your arms, feeling your eyes water, "fine," you huff through your nostrils, "I'm sorry talking to my old friends made you feel a way you can't help."

He drops his head then finally turns to you. His stomach drops to see your eyes were now pink and glassy. He speaks your name and steps forward. You pull away when he tries to touch you.

"I-" he whispers, "please don't cry."

You furrow your brows, "that's all you have to say to me?"

"APOLOGIZE YOU IDIOT!" two separate voices call in unison behind two different windows.

You both flinch, then Bill glares at his brothers, pointing the bouquet of flowers at them, "shut it. This is none of your business!"

"Only it is though!" Fred blurts from the inside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Bill is about to respond, but then he notices you're about to walk away. He grabs your shoulders, "No— I'm sorry."

You look at him, tears now streaming your cheeks.

"Merlin, I-"

It was too late now. It took him too long to say it. He releases you and you immediately retreat into your shop.

George calls out to you as you go to the back of your store. He then turns to his brother and motions with his head, "what are you waiting for?!"

Guilt bites at Bill, and it's why he figures he shouldn't push you anymore than he already has, "I shouldn't."

"Shouldn't?!" George runs out your shop, "you should be the one helping her with her wallpaper, you absolute buff-"

Bill cuts him off by shoving the flowers into his chest.

He bristles as he watches his older brother walk away, "coward!"

Fred marches to his twin, joining in, "yellow-belly!"

"Ugly!"

"Red head!"

George slaps the flowers on Fred's chest, "we're red heads, idiot."

"No, I'm not," Fred takes the flowers, combing through his bangs, "I've always had an orange undertone in my mane."

George rolls his eyes.

"What? You're just jealous."

[lolitastories]

Ocean blue

Rafe Cameron

As I stood one step behind Rafe and our daughter, I felt like their bodyguard. He always wanted to have her in his arms. He didn’t feel the need to use her stroller, so it always stayed in the trunk. He would look back every so often to make sure I was close by but most importantly, he made sure to catch every moment, expression, or action from our daughter. “Don’t get her too close to the glass” I warned. But just as I said it he squatted down with her close enough to touch the glass. He grins back at me before turning to see our daughter so fazed with the creature in front of her. I step back taking a seat on the wooden bench and just watch those two.

“Can you imagine them living amongst dinosaurs?” My head snaps to my right as a man takes the seat beside me. “Of course they developed over the years but it's incredible to think of how far back they go.”

“And now you have them here” I plainly point towards the glass. “Living behind a glass where people pay to come and see them.” The guy laughs shaking his head.

“If you think they deserve better, why come see them?”

“Call me a hypocrite,” I smile. “I like to think these places are made up of animals we have helped. Maybe that small turtle was saved and would never be able survive out there in the wild.”

“A nice way to see things,” He lets out a sigh. “But still pessimistic?”

“Oh yes” I laugh. “It’s second nature to me. People can be so deceiving that it's easier to never truly put your trust on someone.”

“Talking from experience?” I turn my head to look at him. My smile turned into a bit of a frown. His mood shifted really quickly, noticing my change. “You seem like a person who believes in second chances?”

“I believe things can be made right, but I also believe a person should know their value. Trust should be sacred. If you decide to trust someone it could either make you noble or a fool for falling for the same trick twice.”

“And you don’t want to make that mistake twice because you’re scared of the pain?” I shake my head letting out a quick laugh. “In my books it doesn’t make you a fool to trust again, it simply means you are a human with a big heart.”

“Guess we just differ in opinions.” He smiles nodding along.

“We should meet up to see if that is true, maybe in a couple of years it will be the same?” I look over feeling my smile die down. I take a deep breath ready to respond when someone cuts me off.

“I think not.” Our heads turn to see Rafe standing there. “Our daughter wants to visit the shop.” His eyes rolled over to mine. Dead expression on his face.

“I don’t mean to cause any trouble-”

“Then walk away.” I gasp at Rafe's response. I was about to grab his hand and pull him away when he turned towards me and handed over our daughter. As I adjusted her in my arms I am faced with his back.

“I-” I see the man stretch to the side with pleading eyes to look at me but of course Rafe blocks him. He moves forward with each hand grabbing a fist full of the man's collar.

“Look dude. I am trying to have a nice day with my family and you are ruining it. You are some creepy guy who comes to places like these alone to what? Pry on women hoping they give you some attention?”

“Rafe stop.” I demanded placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Look man I just saw her sitting there and she looked a bit down,” What? I looked down? People said I have a resting bitch face but I didn’t know it made me look depressed, what the fuck.

“Your mistake.” Rafe continues. “Now that I am here you can move along and bother someone else, this one is mine.” He lets him go with a little shove. I stay quiet knowing and hoping it won’t escalate. The man fixes his shirt and with a last glance towards me he walks away.

“Seriously?” I say watching Rafe walk to where I was standing. “You didn’t have to do all of that.” He doesn’t respond. He simply takes a hold of my hand and begins to drag me somewhere. “Rafe,” I say a little louder trying to get his attention. He swiftly dragged us between the crowd until we stopped in front of the family bathroom.

“In.” He opened the door and motioned for me to get in but I just stood there. I raised one brow thinking how crazy he was acting and childish. “Can you please get in?” I rolled my eyes and got in. I shake away the small grin knowing it wasn’t the time to acknowledge his cute plea. I wait for him to close the door and lock it. “I heard you two talking.”

“Rafe you know I wouldn’t-”

“I wasn’t talking about him.” He stays put in the doorway. I search his eyes for any clue, until it hits me. “Are you ever going to trust me?” His voice was almost a whisper. “You don’t say it but I know the reason for you breaking up with me and putting me on trial to be in our daughter's life was because of my past.” I was left speechless. My cheeks were burning and my bones were aching to just touch him. I saw how pain flashed in his eyes but I couldn’t find the words. “You would have hated who I was back then and who’s to say I won’t go back to being that person again. My father was a bad man but I loved him.” His last word made his voice crack. “I don’t want her to live through that and hate me,” His head falls down but I notice a small tear rolling down his cheek. “I don’t want to live knowing you always have a foot out the door.” That's when he broke down into a cry.

“Rafe,” I swallowed the pain in my throat and walked over to him. I grabbed his hand and led him to the single couch in the room. “Look at me Rafe.” I kneel in front of him. I lifted his chin a bit to search for his eyes. Once I saw his eyes focus on me I moved our daughter to his lap. “I can’t tell you that it didn’t play a part in my decision because it did.” His chest was breathing heavily. “But it didn’t make me stop trusting you, ever.” Both of my hands were holding his cheeks making sure he didn’t look away. I move my thumbs to clear up the remainder of his tears. “Baby I fell in love with the man you became after so much pain. You did that on your own before we met and after seeing you become a father, I know you won’t ever do anything to make her and I hate you.”

“But you don’t even look at me the same.” I grinned hearing his childlike whine. I move closer between his legs.

“I don’t look at you the same because you keep changing on me for the better.” I begin to smile bigger. “I fell in love with a 20 year old boy who was building a life for himself. Then again as a 24 year old man who became the father to our little girl. Now I have a chance to see what kind of person you will become as we grow older together but trust me, the only change you see in my eyes is how my love just keeps getting bigger and bigger for you.” I lift my head giving him a quick kiss. “Those blue eyes have become my favorite blues to see.”

“Not the ocean?” He says quietly.

“No, ocean blue doesn’t even come close.” He nods softly before fixing his down posture. “Are you okay?” He flickered his eyes down towards me as he nodded. But when I tried to get up with one hand he kept me from standing up. He leans forward and as I try to pull away but his free hand moves from my shoulder to the back of my head.

“You need to be more careful when talking to strangers,” What am I, 10?. “I held back because our daughter was nearby, but don’t go making friends with strangers, especially men.” I roll my eyes as I let out a chuckle. “You two are mine to protect.” I move forward resting my forehead against his.

“She is ours to protect,” I say challengingly. His piercing eyes don’t change showing how he was not amused with my answer. “I won’t do it again.” I groaned, pulling away from him. “Can I get up now? My knees are killing me”

“I don’t know why. You have always been good on your knees.” I scoff pushing him away.

“You're an idiot.” I hear him laugh as I pick myself up. “Now let's go because there is an otter plushie that has my name on it.” I hear the couch creek as he stands and walks over to the door. I turn around to face Rafe, one hand on the handle behind my back as he stares down at me. “I love you so much.” I whisper quietly and slowly. His eyes move to my right and then the left a couple of times. “Don’t forget it.” I simply state. I turn and push the door open but his hand grips mine and pulls it close. His face right beside me ear,

“Woman if I didn’t have my daughter in my arms right now I would fuck you against this very door. Don’t go saying things like that when I can’t do anything about it.” He takes a step back allowing me to focus back on opening the door. I tried to swallow but my mouth was left dry. Of course Rafe was enjoying it. He wrapped his free arm around my neck and led us to the shop with a grin on his face.

“Fuck the store” I stop in my tracks. Shivers were literally circulating around my body.

“What?” Is he stupid?

“We can come tomorrow to get her a stuffed animal. Let's go home. She needs to nap.” I didn’t care how desperate I looked or sounded. I needed Rafe. These people should be grateful I have enough self restraint to hold myself back but it wouldn’t be for long.

“What about the otter-?”

“Fuck the otter Rafe.” I looked around a little embarrassed as I spoke a little too loudly. I walked closer making sure no one was going to hear me. “I am giving you a chance to go home and fuck me Rafe.” His eyes widened. “You can fuck me until you put another baby in me. I need you,” I look up with pleading eyes hoping to get him on the same page.

“Yes ma’am.” And with Rafe, it didn’t take much.

[beaconfeels]

hi!! <3

short prompt (if you're still in the mood):

steter / "who are you?"

We’re going to die, Peter thinks. He never thought it would end this way. The Hale pack has stood for centuries. Nobody’s even dared to attack them for the past three hundred years. 

But now their emissary has disappeared, their forests are burning, and there’s a veritable army on their land. His throat tightens as he extends his claws. He won’t go down without a fight, but he will go down. They all will. He looks at Talia and sees the same fear and anguish in her eyes. 

He glances around the clearing at his nieces and nephews, and it feels like his heart is going to shut down in pain. He would willingly die for them, but he never wanted to die with them.  

Deucalion and his army stand before them, all silent finally. The breath before the battle. 

A twig breaks underfoot, and everyone’s heads snap toward the sound. A man walks into the clearing, taking easy, measured steps until he comes to a standstill between the packs.

“Goddess bless villains and their penchant for monologuing,” the man says. “I apologize for being late, Alpha Hale,” he adds, turning around with a slight nod to Talia. 

Peter looks at her, and she shoots him a look that says, “I don’t know who the hell he is either.” 

“And who might you be?” Deucalion asks. 

“I am the protector of this land, and this pack,” the man answers. His body language is deliberately loose, but Peter can see that he’s much more alert than he’s trying to let on. Something about the set of his shoulders maybe. Peter can’t quite put his finger on it. 

Deucalion laughs. “You think you’re going to protect them?” 

“Yes, I do,” the man says. Then he snaps his fingers, and a hole opens up in the earth and swallows the man next to Deucalion. One minute there’s a person there, and the next there isn’t. The hole closes up behind him, leaving only a small disturbance in the soil. 

It’s the kind of thing a mind doesn’t want to process. That’s probably why there’s a moment of silence before gasps and murmurs start. 

“Now,” the mysterious man says, “Where were we? Oh, right. I was explaining to you how I am the protector of this land, and you will leave if you don’t want the same thing, or worse, to happen to you.” 

Or worse? Peter thinks. He almost wants to see what else this man is capable of. Apparently burying a man alive in an instant is just level one for him. 

“You think one trick is going to scare me-” Deucalion starts, but there’s a scream, and a woman disappears. 

Half of Deucalion’s army runs off into the trees. The smart half, Peter thinks. 

The man lets out a piercing whistle. Everyone looks around frantically, and then the beating of wings starts. It’s ravens, more than Peter’s ever seen at once. Their wings and cries are overwhelming. Peter clutches his hands to his ears, and watches as the ravens attack their enemies. Growls and shrieks and cries join the racket as the ravens shred with beaks and claws. 

Then the man whistles again, and the birds fly off as quickly as they came, soon only a black cloud on the horizon. 

“That was your warning,” the mysterious man says. “Your last and final warning. Leave here and never come back.” 

They leave at once. Even Deucalion tries to leave, but he’s unable to. 

“Not you,” the man says with a shake of his head. “I will not allow you to live, demon wolf.” One more snap of his fingers, and Deucalion disappears into the earth. 

The man turns back to the Hales. “I would have liked to have dispatched him in a more colorful manner, but well, I suppose everyone has had enough trauma for today, don’t you think? Staring down death is not an easy thing.” He smiles sympathetically, his eyes drifting to Peter, and it’s only then that Peter realizes his own hands are shaking, and that Talia has dropped to her knees, her shoulders heaving with sobs. 

Yes, things seem to have been tied up with a bow, but only moments ago, they had thought death was imminent. Just the thought of it still makes him ache. 

“Who are you?” Peter asks through trembling lips. 

“Stiles Stilinski,” the man says, holding out his hand. “Psychic. Witch. Spark. And your mate.”

Their hands close around each other, and Peter feels an almost unbearable rush of power as they do. “Shouldn’t you be waiting to tell me that last part?” He asks. 

“What’s the point in being psychic if you can’t use it to move things along a bit from time to time?” Stiles says with a winning smile. “Now go look after your pack. They’ve had quite the shakeup today. I’ll find you later, my wolf.” 

Then he ambles off across the clearing like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Peter looks after him, and he can’t help the low rumble of relieved laughter that bubbles up. He turns his face to the sky, and smiles. 

[gf2bellamy]

customer — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: steve helps you out with a rude customer content warnings: mean customer, robin and steve bickering a/n: also i definitely prefer E.T over back to the future

 You sat behind the counter at Family Video, half-listening to Steve and Robin bicker as usual. It was Robin’s day off, but that didn’t stop her from swinging by under the pretense of picking up some movies. You were pretty sure she just missed hanging out with her two favorite people.

Their debate had been going on for the better part of fifteen minutes, and you found yourself grinning as you listened. 

“I’m just saying,” Steve huffed, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated air of exasperation, “E.T. is way overrated. You can’t seriously tell me it’s better than Back to the Future.” 

Robin crossed her arms, her eyebrows shooting up in mock offense. “Excuse me? E.T. is a timeless masterpiece about love and friendship! Back to the Future is just about some guy with weird mommy issues.” 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from someone who claims The Thing is a better horror movie than Jaws,” Steve shot back, pointing at her. 

You chuckled quietly, watching the exchange like it was your own private comedy show.  

Robin turned suddenly, walking toward you with two VHS tapes in hand. “All right, let’s settle this,” she declared, holding the movies up for you to see. “Which one is better?” 

Steve groaned, coming to stand next to you at the counter. “You’re not seriously dragging her into this,” he said, giving Robin a look. 

Robin gave him one right back. “I trust her judgment more than yours, Harrington.” 

You laughed, taking the VHS tapes from her hands to inspect them. “I don’t think there’s a right answer here,” you said, handing them back. “But if I had to pick… probably Back to the Future.” 

“Yes!” Steve fist-pumped triumphantly, flashing Robin a smug grin. 

Robin rolled her eyes dramatically, shoving the VHS tape into her bag. “Whatever. I’m leaving before you get even more insufferable.” She paused on her way out, glancing back with a teasing smirk. “See you two losers tomorrow.” 

“Bye, Robin,” you called after her, shaking your head. 

Steve leaned against the counter, watching her leave. “You know, she’s got terrible taste in movies.” 

You laughed, turning to him. “Do you two ever have a civil conversation?” 

He grinned at you, shrugging. “Nope. Where’s the fun in that?” 

Before you could reply, the bell above the door jingled, and you both turned to see an older man walk into the store. He didn’t bother to look around, heading straight for the counter with an air of impatience. 

“Hi!” you said, standing up a little straighter and putting on your best customer-service smile. “How can I help you?” 

The man didn’t return the smile. Instead, he slammed a VHS tape down on the counter with enough force to make even Steve halt in his tracks.

Steve straightened up beside you, eyebrows raised. “Well, this should be fun,” he muttered under his breath. 

You shot him a look, biting back a grin as you turned back to the customer. “What seems to be the issue?” 

The man glared at you, his expression sour as he jabbed a finger at the VHS tape. “This thing wouldn’t work,” he said, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. 

You blinked, keeping your smile intact despite the wave of hostility. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. Let me take a look—” 

“Don’t bother,” he interrupted, crossing his arms with an exaggerated huff. “I’ve never had a problem like this before, but of course, the one time I rent something here, it’s a dud. Typical. Do you people even check these things before you put them on the shelves?” 

Steve shifted beside you, his arms folding as his posture straightened. You could see the subtle narrowing of his eyes, but you quickly spoke before he could jump in. “We do inspect our discs regularly, sir, but sometimes—” 

“Inspect them? Yeah, right,” the man scoffed, cutting you off again. “Do you think I’m stupid? Clearly, nobody’s doing their job around here. I wasted my time driving here, wasted my evening trying to get the stupid thing to play, and now I have to waste more of my time coming back just to get a refund. Unbelievable.” 

You nodded, trying to remain calm despite the sting of his words. “I understand your frustration, sir. Let me—” 

“Oh, I doubt you understand anything,” he snapped, waving a dismissive hand at you. “You probably just sit back here all day gossiping and not doing your job.” 

At that, you saw Steve push off the counter, his jaw tightening as he stepped forward slightly. “All right, that’s enough,” he said, his voice low and even, but there was a sharp edge to it that made you glance at him in surprise. 

The man turned his glare to Steve. “Excuse me?” 

“You’ve made your point,” Steve said, his tone calm but firm. “We’ll take care of it. No need to take it out on her.” 

The man sputtered, clearly caught off guard by Steve’s directness. Before he could say another word, Steve reached out and grabbed the VHS tape from the counter. “I’ll check it myself,” he added.

You exhaled softly, feeling the tension in the air crackle as the man huffed but didn’t push further. Steve gave you a small, reassuring look before turning his attention back to the man. 

“We’ll get this sorted for you. Have a nice day,” Steve said, the hint of sarcasm in his tone unmistakable. 

As the man stormed out of the store, the bell above the door jingled sharply. You bit your lip anxiously, your gaze fixed on the door as it swung closed. You hated being yelled at—it left a weight in your chest that was hard to shake. 

You sighed quietly, shifting on your feet and trying to will away the lump in your throat. Suddenly, you felt a warm hand on your back. 

“You okay?” Steve’s voice was soft, and when you turned to look at him, his concerned brown eyes were already studying your face. 

“Yeah,” you said, offering a small smile. “Thanks for stepping in back there. That guy was… intense.” 

Steve huffed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. “Intense? He was a total jerk.” He glanced toward the door, as if expecting the man to come back. “People like that think they can just walk all over everyone. Not on my watch.” 

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Still, you didn’t have to say anything. But I really appreciate it.” 

He shrugged, a lopsided grin forming on his face. “What kind of guy would I be if I just stood there and let him talk to you like that?” 

Your smile grew, and you felt the tension in your chest start to ease. “Well, it was nice. Thanks, Steve.” 

“Anytime,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Besides,” he added, winking playfully, “I couldn’t let him ruin the best employee’s day. Who else is gonna keep me sane while Robin’s driving me crazy?” 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Pretty sure you two drive each other crazy equally.” 

Steve grinned, pushing himself off the counter. “Fair enough. But seriously, if that guy comes back, I’ve got your back.” 

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a second, all you could do was nod. 

“Thanks, Steve,” you said again, your smile warmer this time. 

“Don’t mention it,” he said, flashing you one last grin before turning toward the shelves to reorganize the VHS tapes Robin had knocked over earlier. As you watched him, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter.

[honeekyuu]

talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

twelve. lipstick

previous || masterlist || next

a/n. you ever just miss a man so much you pick up a hobby again?

warnings: suna rintarou

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?”

You swallow down the bite of dinner, smiling nervously into the camera. Suna’s got two fries in his mouth, and he’s not looking at you. His gaze focused very carefully on his drawing pad, stylus gripped loosely between his fingers and following the path his wrist sets with care.

It’s just after seven o’clock, but you’d been on the phone since two. He’d clocked quite a few extra hours in the studio this week due to some project deadlines, and you’d dutifully sat on the other end of a facetime call every night. Your own work remains undone, the problem set haunting you from the corner of your desk. You have a draft of a chapter for your writing class up on your monitor, your messy notes open on your laptop. 

You’d been doing that more recently, too. Blatantly ignoring the responsibilities of your major to actually invest in your electives, this one in particular. You’d always been interested in writing, but it’d been more of a passing hobby than anything else. This class – and the encouraging feedback from your professor – had made it scarily real for you in the last few weeks, with a terrible, lingering hope filling you. A terrible hope that this might be what you’ve wanted to do this whole time. A terrible, nagging thought that the unopened problem set on your desk might be indicative of something bigger that you’ve been trying not to acknowledge.

You’re more than happy to set that issue aside to engage Suna’s conversation.

“Saturday?” you say, spooning more of your rice bowl into your mouth while you give him your attention. He only glances at you, eyes dropping to your mouth before flitting toward his own dinner shyly. He shoves nearly half of his burger in his mouth, only snorting when you watch in horror, before nodding.

“‘aturday,” he mumbles plainly, and you have to pull up your calendar because you know that’s all you’re getting.

PUMPKIN PATCH – DON’T FREAK.

Well, that’s not helpful.

Your chest swarms with nerves, and you do your best to appear as though a brick of fear hasn’t just come down over your head.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

He sees right through it, swallowing while he cuts you a disbelieving glance. “You’re so nonchalant and cool.”

You laugh, hiding behind a hand. “Sorry, I’m freaking out.”

“Me, too.”

His honesty is disarming as always. 

“Yeah?”

“Incredibly. But I still wanna do it.”

You purse your lips, warming. “Me, too.”

A beat passes, and then a voice full of fond amusement. “Yeah? You sure?” 

A roll of your eyes, the draw of his laugh when he sees it.

“Yes, Rinnie. I’m sure.”

A sigh of frustration masked as a laugh. “You’re so cruel for that.”

It’s hard to focus on your draft that night.

–

You take a deep breath and exhale slow. Slow. 

Breathe in, turn to look at yourself in the mirror, this way and that. 

Breathe out slow. Slow. 

“It’s okay,” you say to yourself, breathing in slow and then breathing out slower. “It’s okay, it’s Suna.”

It’s Suna, the same boy you’ve been talking to for weeks – months, really. The same boy who’s proven again and again that he’s not like any boy you’ve ever met before. The same boy who’d asked to pick you up this morning, who’d asked to walk entirely out of his way to pick you up for a date. A date that he’d been pushing for since before either of you could consider it one.

“It’s Suna,” you breathe again, forcing yourself to be okay with how your hair looks. “Just a first date. With Suna.” 

There are three quiet knocks on the front door, echoing around your apartment and into your bedroom.

Just a first date with Suna.

You start to sweat almost immediately.

“Okay,” you breathe, fanning your face with nervous hands and walking on shaky legs to your bedroom door. “Okay, I can do this.” You look around the living room as you cross it, making sure the space is tidy and lacking anything potentially embarrassing. You’d already checked five times, but one more couldn’t hurt.

By the time your hand is on the doorknob, your face is burning and your hands are clammy.

The man on the other side of the door doesn’t look much better.

It’s weird, meeting someone you’ve known for months.

The first thing you notice is that he’s tall. You’d known. You’d known he’d be tall, but fuck, he’s tall.

The second thing you notice is that he’s got dark features but light eyes. Green eyes, but black hair, black eyebrows. Green eyes, but inky black eyelashes that flutter over them. You’d known that too, from the photos and the calls, but his eyes are greener and his hair is darker in person. His clothes are just as dark, grey shirt tucked into black jeans and dark plaid flannel thrown over the top.

You notice the piercings and tattoos, too. The lip ring he tugs nervously between his teeth, the uneven number of piercings on his left ear and right ear, glinting in the light of your apartment hallway. The black ink peeking out from under the sleeves of his flannel, dark ink and pale, ringed fingers.

Pale, ringed fingers that are shaking just slightly, wrapped tight around a bouquet of flowers.

He looks exactly the same as he does in his photos – the familiarity is nearly overwhelming – but everything is new, intense. The reality of Suna Rintarou is stronger than it had been before.

“Hi,” you whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. He stares back, looking just as stunned.

“Hi-” he breathes, cutting short and swallowing hard. You watch his Adam’s apple bob, ink on his throat moving with it. “-pretty girl.”

You’re not sure you’ll survive this day.

You shiver, breaking eye contact nervously and trying not to let the chills that his voice induces run rampant on your skin. “Do…” You glance over your shoulder and then back at him. “D’you wanna come in? For coffee or something?”

You watch his face redden in real time, watch his ears turn pink as he looks away from you. 

He’s as nervous as you are.

“Sure,” he says quietly. “That sounds nice.” He follows you inside, stepping carefully into your foyer and looking around curiously while he takes his shoes off. “I like your place.”

You warm, padding into the kitchen to start making coffee. You’re distracted beyond belief, distracted by the overwhelming sense of Suna’s presence. It only worsens when you glance back to thank him and realize that he’d followed you down the hall. “Oh. Hi.”

His eyes scan your face – your wide eyes and surprised blush – and then he bites down on his lip ring, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Hi. Am I making you nervous?”

Laughter bubbles out of you, and that wave of familiarity returns, washing away some of your anxiety about meeting him. You already know him.

“Maybe,” you tease, nodding back at the bouquet hanging limply in his hand. “But not any more nervous than I’m making you.”

Suna glances down, realizing that his hand is gripped so tight around it that petals are starting to shed off of the flowers onto your floor. “Oh-” He holds out the bouquet, grimacing when more petals float down between you. “This is for you.”

You smile, feeling a swell of giddiness rise in your chest – the one that you’ve always gotten with him, from the moment you started to fall for him. “I have some vases in that cabinet over the fridge,” you say, still grinning stupidly at him. His eyes twinkle, and you know he’s caught the tinge of domesticity in the way you talk to him. “Help me out, 6’3”?”

He sets the bouquet on the counter, never taking his eyes off of you. “Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

Oh, good lord.

You press a clammy hand to your heated face, watching him cross the kitchen toward you. You lean into the corner of the counter when he stops close enough to you that his scent washes over you, warm and comforting and so Suna and new that you have to fight not to gravitate toward him. 

Suna reaches up with ease, pulling the cabinet open and plucking a small vase from inside. He smirks to himself while he does. “Why d’you keep these up here if you can’t reach?”

“So I can get pretty boys like you to do it for me,” you joke, basking in the nervous flutter of those inky black lashes and the sharp cut of those green eyes down to yours.

“Got a lot of pretty boys on your roster?” His voice drips in annoyance, but his face is a lovely pink color and he can’t seem to keep eye contact with you.

“Just one,” you say, your confidence leaving you when he hands over the vase. Your fingers brush against his, and your heart flies to your throat, the nerves unbearable. You turn away, filling the vase with water from the tap and putting far too much care into arranging the bouquet. You feel him behind you, feel his eyes burning through your skin as he takes you in.

“I like your jeans,” is all he says. 

You glance down, taking in the light denim jeans and burnt orange cardigan you’d spent way too much time picking out last night. You’re not the biggest fan of how the jeans fit you, mainly because they’re much more form-fitting than you’re used to, but you’d really wanted to try something new for him. To show him how far you’ve come.

“Thanks,” you whisper nervously. “I’m still getting used to them.” He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a large part of you knows that he doesn’t need to. You can feel his pride from here, washing over you in waves of heat.

You turn back to him, leaning all your weight on the counter so you don’t collapse. “I like your outfit, too.”

His grin is torture, you’re sure of it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I tried really hard today.” When you just beam up at him playfully, he sighs in defeat and looks away. He scans over all the things on your fridge, lingering on the polaroids of you with your friends while he speaks. “‘s probably better if we skip the coffee and just go.”

Your face drops, and you blink in confusion. “Why?”

He just smiles in a way that feels self-deprecating, eyes locked on a photo of Alisa and Suga kissing each of your cheeks while you laugh. He swallows, staring down at it with something warm in his gaze. “If we stay here much longer, I’m not gonna wanna leave.”

He has no idea how okay with that you just might be.

Still, he’d promised you a pumpkin patch.

You step toward him, closing the distance and watching as his gaze flits to yours nervously. You press your chest to his while you reach past him for the fridge, pretending you don’t feel his breath stutter or the fingers that brush against your waist.

There’s another photo, just under the one he’d fixated on – it had been taken the same night, just last week in fact. A weeknight when the three of you had decided that bellinis and Breakfast Club could be the only cure to your end-of-semester stress. When Alisa had whipped out a cheap polaroid camera and demanded a photoshoot, when Suga had only been so glad to order delivery for more alcohol and raid your closet for stupid photoshoot outfits. When the three of you had gotten drunk and giddy enough for your newfound confidence – still shy and small and in no small way nurtured by the very man in front of you now – to make an appearance, encouraged in the whoops and hollers of your friends when they’d seen the new you come out.

When you’d climbed drunkenly into Alisa’s lap and let her take a sexy – incredibly blurry, but still sexy – snapshot of you, the memory of Suga cheering in the background while shaking his ass to the end track of Breakfast Club embedded in the glossy film of your smeared lipstick. 

You’d kept the photo, too in love with the memories that had come with it. But you think maybe it would belong better elsewhere.

“Here,” you say, pressing the front of the photo to his chest while you back away, watching with warm ears when he takes it but keeps his eyes on yours. “You can keep that one in your wallet, if you want.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise, but you turn away and move back down the hall before you can watch him look at it. 

Still, the hushed ‘holy shit’ echoes all the way to the foyer while you put your shoes on, and you bite down a laugh.

“Ready to go?” you call, tying up your sneakers and hearing Suna rush unsteadily out of the kitchen. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” he calls back distractedly. Glancing up through your lashes, heart pounding in your ears at your own courage, you catch as he tucks the photo away in his wallet, just behind his ID. He folds his wallet carefully and slips it in his front pocket, inked fingers still trembling slightly. 

You walk out after him, locking the door and following him down to the nearest bus stop. He can’t seem to decide if he should stand a friendly distance from you while you wait or if he should press his side against yours, so you linger closer to him to let him know it’s okay. He flushes but steps right up to you, facing you and using his frame to block the wind when he sees how you tense against it. 

You stand in a silence that’s somehow both comforting and unnerving, meeting his eyes and then looking away nervously. He just watches you, lips pulling into a fond smile every few moments before he remembers to smother it. He reaches out to you after a while, running cold fingers over your ears and tapping the tips of his fingers against your done-up hair, grinning when you give him an empty glare.

“I like these,” he mumbles, toying with your dangly pumpkin earrings. His thumb brushes over your jaw and then your cheek, and then he finally drags it lightly against your bottom lip, your lipstick coming off a little on his skin. “Pretty.”

You inhale sharply, head swimming with the feel of his fingers and the smell of him – of his clothes and his cologne. So gentle and warm, yet so goddamn overwhelming.

You look up at him through your lashes, parting your lips just slightly, and his eyes grow wide as he stares down at you. He blinks in surprise, and you’re not totally sure what’s just happened. But his thumb leaves your lip, and you find yourself turning toward it, chasing the feeling for just a moment longer. Chasing him for just a moment longer.

The sound of the bus turning the corner breaks the spell Suna Rintarou’s put you under.

You blink rapidly, taking a small step back and watching Suna swallow hard. His face is redder than you think the wind can be blamed for, but he just turns and holds a hand out to help you onto the bus. Your skin burns where it touches his, and you shyly show the driver your student ID before leading Suna down the aisle, his fingers interlacing with yours the moment you start to pull away.

He’s grinning to himself when you finally choose a seat. You roll your eyes but let him rest your hands in his lap. 

After a moment where he’s checking how many stops are left, he pulls out a pair of corded headphones, holding one out to you.

“Want me to show you my sick music taste?”

You laugh, thankful you’d chosen a seat in the back, because the way you’re looking up at him is nothing short of pathetic.

He unlocks his phone, but it opens immediately to a paused YouTube video of a famous Pokemon gamer streaming a playthrough. You lift your brows, staring up at Suna with knowing eyes. He flushes and hurries to close it out.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I was watching it on my walk over to calm my nerves.”

You giggle and point down to his screen. “Put it on, then.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, really,” you insist. “Put it on. I wanna watch it.”

He turns to you with wide eyes. “There’s no way in hell you want to watch this.”

You roll your eyes and take his phone, rewinding the video a bit and pressing play. You try to catch up with all the new information while Suna just stares down at you. You hum after a second.

“So, it’s a Nuzlocke?” 

He doesn’t answer you, only blurting out, “You’re the girl of my dreams”. You laugh, glancing around the crowded bus before shaking your head and returning to the video.

“Yeah, you mighta mentioned that once or twice.”

–

The wind is sharp out in the middle of the pumpkin patch, but you can’t tell if your cheeks are red and stinging from that or from the sheer force of smiling so much.

Suna makes you laugh like it’s his job. He whispers quick one-liners in your ear or into your hair, smiling against the crown of your head when you hide your grin behind your hand.

He treats you like a princess, holding your hand so you don’t trip on the vines and uneven ground while you pick out a pumpkin to take home. He carries everything for you, despite your complaints, and makes a point of still holding your hand. 

And when you finally manage to find a large tote bag to shove all your souvenirs into – designated home pumpkin, popcorn, apple cider donuts, and a variety of knick knacks – he all but fights you for possession of it in the middle of the gift shop. You let him win, and as a reward, he keeps his chest pressed against your back while you wait in line for a short hay ride, one hand – fingers cold and rings colder – pressed to your waist under your cardigan, your skin pebbling under his touch.

He leans down to listen to you talk about nothing in particular, and you wonder, as the line trudges slowly along, if he realizes that his other arm is wrapped tight around you, his thumb hooked through one of your belt loops. You wonder if he realizes that the quiet push and pull of mutual nerves that had kept its hold on you all day is finally falling away, his comfort shown in the way he grabs and holds you like you’re his.

You wouldn’t mind that so much.

You finally reach the front, and he helps you up onto the hay ride, the two of you finding a little spot in the corner. Suna sets your bag between his knees but lets it sit right on his feet, the cloth tote never touching the floor of the wagon. You hum, watching him do it.

“Do you have sisters?”

He blinks, glancing at you in surprise. “A younger one, yeah.”

“Are you close with her?”

He smiles, still confused. “Sometimes…?”

You just laugh, looking away and taking in the view outside the ride. “I can tell. You don’t let bags touch the floor.”

He glances down at his feet. “I-” He laughs. “She told me it was bad luck. Smacked me over the head with her purse once.”

You grin fully, your cheeks hurting again, and shake your head. “Not tryna risk any bad luck today, Rinnie?”

He barks out a laugh, hiding his face in your hair when a couple glances back in amusement.

“I’m still not sure how I got you to like me,” he whispers against you. “I’m not risking shit.”

The ride stops outside of a large corn maze, and other people file off of the wagon slowly. You wait until it’s nearly empty to stand, taking him with you, but you stop him from leaving, pulling him back quickly and rising onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“You can afford to risk a little bit more.” 

And then you plant your lips on the corner of his mouth in a kiss so chaste that he barely has time to inhale before you’re gone. You hop off the ride on your own, taking off toward the maze. He calls after you loudly, laughing when you just disappear into a wall of corn.

You race through a whirlwind of corn stalks and trip over the uneven ground, hearing as Suna crashes into the maze behind you. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you lead him deeper into the middle of nowhere, accidentally scaring no fewer than three other groups of people and apologizing quietly while your name echoes behind you. 

You stop after a few minutes in a clearing, instantly regretting the decision to run and doing your best not to pass out right there. You barely hear him behind you, slowing to a stop and watching as you bend over to catch your breath.

“You lost, pretty girl?”

You jump, whirling on one foot, only to find Suna’s already crossed over to you. There’s a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, listen,” you start, laughing wildly as you back away. “Just listen for a sec-”

He grabs your outstretched hand and yanks you toward him, keeping you there with one arm wrapped around your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, smiling as you try to wriggle free. “That I should risk more?”

“Okay, listen-” you laugh, pushing your hands against his chest. “I was just playing around-”

Suna’s mouth on yours tells you that he’s not.

The chills start in the crown of your head and wash down over you in an instant. Your heart stops in your chest, and when it starts again, it’s everywhere, all at once. His lip ring is cold on your mouth, but his lips are so unbelievably warm. And when he pulls away just enough to whisper to you, his breath triggers every nerve ending in your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breath unsteady in his chest. Your head swims at the feeling of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Was that okay?”

You can only nod, your vision hazy and your mind completely blank. He shuffles against you harshly, and you realize belatedly that your bag had slipped off his shoulder and he’d fumbled to catch it.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Didn’t want to let it touch the ground.”

You stare up at him, wondering how you could have possibly gotten so lucky with Suna Rintarou.

You take his face in your hands, pushing your lips against his and swallowing the quiet whine he breathes into your mouth. 

He pulls you tight against him, and you push onto your tiptoes anytime he starts to lift too high, and he nearly drops you when you tug his lip ring between your teeth, your tongue passing nervously against it when he makes a sound that makes your toes curl. 

You only realize that maybe this isn’t totally appropriate for a family-friendly venue when you hear a family in the distance, trying to figure out the way out of the maze. You push against Suna’s chest, watching as he takes a moment longer to process what’s going on. When he does, all he can do is blink down at you dumbly. 

“Huh?” he breathes, face gradually burning a beautiful, rosy red that makes you want to do terrible things to this man.

You swallow your nerves.

“I think I’m ready to go,” you whisper, watching as confusion and then concern passes over his face. “If you’re ready to go.”

It clicks in an instant, and your heart skips when his eyes flick between yours before dropping to your lips, swollen and warm and completely his.

“Your place or mine?”

[silentsneezes]

since the brainrot is continuing, here’s a 1.6k sick v/iktor fic !

cw for talking about disability/chronic illness and a brief mention of dizziness

A few fits from Viktor isn’t uncommon, especially in the spring and fall, so Jayce dismisses the first few series of stifles from his partner. He blesses Viktor, as always, but doesn’t give it a second thought. That is, until Viktor has a particularly long fit, nearing 10 rapidly stifled sneezes without a single breath drawn.

“Bless you, mi amor. Is something setting you off?” He inquires, looking over from his desk to see Viktor’s shoulders shudder with another series of stifles, silent this time. If he hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have noticed, but the bobbing of his partner’s head and the shaking of his frame are telltale signs, “Bless you again.”

Viktor frowns at having been noticed, muttering a frustrated, “thank you,” without looking up from his work.

“You know, you don’t have to stifle when it’s just us,” he prompts, expecting to receive the same response he always does: either a dismissive wave of the hand, a glare, or– his least favorite– no response at all. Viktor decides on the latter, letting Jayce’s statement hang in the air unacknowledged.

“I don’t mind,” Jayce continues, “it’s…” he pauses, searching for the right word.

“Incessant.” Viktor substitutes, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I was going to say endearing.” Jayce shrugs as he walks over to Viktor’s workspace, placing a hand on his shoulder. He can’t help but feel a pang of worry as he notices the heat radiating from his partner, “you should take a break.”

“Science does not “take breaks”. Neither does the hexcore,” Viktor rebuts, his accent thick with a congested drawl.

Jayce bites his tongue, holding back from quiping “neither does your nose.” Taunting Viktor would do no good. Instead he gives Viktor’s shoulder a little rub, his thumb traveling over his shoulder blade towards his neck.

“Maybe the hexcore doesn’t,” Jayce agrees, “But you do. You’re human, Viktor, it’s natural to get sick.” He reasons, his voice soft.

“You know it’s different,” he replies bluntly, not bothering to deny his illness.

Viktor’s words hang in the air, the insinuation obvious; Viktor may not get sick super often, but when he does, it tends to linger for weeks, exhausting his body to the point of dysfunction. Having a plethora of chronic illnesses does not mix well with any sort of cold or flu, as proven by Viktor’s record breaking fevers.

“I know,” Jayce murmurs as he continues to rub Viktor’s shoulder, “but that’s all the more reason to rest.”

Viktor closes his notebook, silently admitting defeat. He looks at Jayce with tired eyes, leaning into his partner’s warm touch.

“Let’s go to bed,” Jayce prompts, stepping closer to Viktor, “you need to sleep.”

Viktor can’t help but let out a tired breath as Jayce steps closer, leaning back as if he’s magnetically attracted to the other man. As much as he likes to pretend he doesn’t like physical affection, he’s always indulgent in Jayce’s touch.

Jayce places both hands on Viktor’s shoulders, stepping closer again, their bodies almost pressed against each other as he stands behind the sick man.

Viktor swallows, nodding. He fumbles for his crutch, his hands tightening around its handle as he forces himself into a standing position. Much to his annoyance, his vision clouds with black splotches for a moment, as it always does when he’s feverish. After a few seconds, he manages to shake off the dizziness, turning to face Jayce. His movements are slowed as the fever exhausts his body, only furthering his sour mood.

“Okay,” He agrees, meeting Jayce’s eyes with a tired, hazy gaze.

Jayce smiles, moving to give Viktor’s hand an affectionate squeeze, “good. I’ll grab my things.”

In the time that it takes for Jayce to gather his notebook and a blueprint he’s currently designing – only a few minutes, if that– Viktor has already occupied himself with a new task. Once again, he sits hunched over his desk, his posture downright terrible as he jots down a few equations in his notebook.

“V, you ready?” Jayce prompts, making his way back over to his partner and peeking over his shoulder.

Ignoring Jayce, Viktor starts, “I realized if we-” his breath breaks his thought with a sudden, quiet “hh-” before his shoulders shudder, his head bobbing down with a poorly stifled fit, “hh’hNgSxch! hh’NZxchh’h-hhNSXCh!”

“Bless you, bless you, bless you,” Jayce murmurs, resting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, “come on genius, you can work on this when you’re feeling better.”

“Just let me-,” Viktor starts, evidently intent on finishing whatever project it is he’s started, but Jayce cuts him off with a swift, “No. We’re going home.”

Viktor looks up, a little surprised at Jayce’s firm tone. His lips purse in a thin line, weighing the pros and cons of resisting Jayce’s caretaking. Whether it’s his fever or exhaustion that breaks through his stubborn determination, Jayce doesn’t know. He’s just grateful to receive a quietly mumbled, “fine.”

“Good,” Jayce murmurs with a little smile, leaning over to kiss the top of Viktor’s head. He waits patiently for Viktor to stand and get his bookbag, placing a hand on Viktor’s waist as they make their way to the lab’s exit.

Viktor pauses as they reach the door, his eyebrows knitting together as the buzzing in his sinuses returns. Raising a hand to his face, he presses two fingers to the base of his nose just in time to stifle, “h’NGSxcH-nKZXxT! hh’NGSXt’eh! nNGxxXt! hh… hhNSXchh!”

“Bless you,” Jayce murmurs for what feels like the hundredth time that day, watching as Viktor fishes in his pocket for a handkerchief and wipes at his twitching nose.

The walk back to Jayce’s room in the academy is rather uneventful. It’s slow moving, more so than usual, and Jayce mentally scolds himself for not realizing Viktor was sick sooner. Typically he would, but he’s been so enveloped in his work today, it was easy to dismiss the frequent fits.

Of course, it’s likely that Viktor would’ve insisted on working even if Jayce had realized sooner, but Jayce still takes the blame. ‘He’s my partner. I should’ve known,’ he admonishes as a mental debate pans out, one side reasoning that Viktor is often reluctant to accept aid, and the other insisting that it’s Jayce’s responsibility to prove to Vitkor that he deserves care.

Even months into their relationship, Jayce struggles with proving to Viktor that his affection is out of love rather than pity. Admittedly, he’s made a few blunders in learning how to navigate helping Viktor with accessibility without diminishing his autonomy; as eager as he is to help his partner, he still finds himself unlearning certain behaviors he has from growing up able-bodied in Piltover.

His mental dispute is interrupted by a quiet “hh-” from Viktor, immediately earning Jayce’s attention. He looks over, watching as Viktor stands in place, his handkerchief held loosely in front of his nose as his breath hitches. Jayce feels his heart swell at the sight; Viktor looks downright miserable, his nostrils flaring in irritation at the itch.

“hh’ng’KZXchh! hh’TKsCHhew-kGNX’SHh!” The sneezes tumble out one after the other, and Viktor only manages to half stifle the first of the explusions, muffling the second two into his handkerchief.

“Salud,” Jayce murmurs as his hand finds its way to Vitkor’s waist again, giving it a gentle squeeze, “we’re almost home.”

Once again, Viktor doesn’t reply, instead wincing as he swallows. ‘Damnit, he’s worse off than I thought’ Jayce thinks, but he puts his mental chastising on hold, prioritizing the task at hand: getting Viktor home.

It doesn’t take much longer for the couple to arrive at Jayce’s place, and he’s quick to unlock the door, allowing Viktor to step inside. Viktor makes a beeline for the bedroom, not bothering to hide his exhaustion– and frankly, not able to hide his exhaustion with his worsening fever.

Jayce follows his partner, ready to make sure he’s as comfortable as he can be. He gives Viktor space as he climbs into bed, knowing not to offer help unless he’s prompted. Still, it pains him to watch Viktor position himself stiffly on the edge of the mattress, using both hands to leverage his bad leg up before shifting to lay back against the headboard.

Jayce busies himself with little tasks, appeasing his million mile per hour mind by getting tissues, a thermometer, cough drops, and all the necessities in battling a cold. He places the items on the nightstand, leaning over to cup a gentle hand over Viktor’s forehead, “Mi dios,” he mutters, feeling a pang of concern at Viktor’s temperature.

Viktor just allows the touch, his eyes drooping shut as he tries to ignore the swelling pain behind his temples. Now that he’s laying in bed, his work left behind in the lab, he allows himself to feel the extent of his sickness. It’s safe to say, the discomfort isn’t pleasant.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? A cold washcloth? A-,” Jayce starts listing, eager to relieve whatever pain he can.

“No,” Viktor answers simply, hooking a slim hand around Jayce’s waist and giving him a weak tug. Jayce submits without hesitation, climbing into bed beside his partner and making sure not to jostle him. Viktor melts against Jayce’s side, his head resting between the crook of Jayce’s elbow and his chest.

“I’ve got you,”Jayce murmurs lovingly, a hand coming up to sift through Jayce’s hair, “Just rest.”

Raspy and barely audible, Viktor mumbles, “What do you think I’m doing?”

Jayce can’t help but smile, chuckling quietly at his partner's sass. Even sick, Viktor is quick to give Jayce attitude, “point taken,” he concedes.

i’m working on the asks i’ve received, as well as a second part to the allergic j/ayce fic, but i figured this fic has sat in my snzdoc for long enough

as always, any comments or tags are much appreciated !! thank you to anyone who read the fic, i hope you enjoyed

[milkb0nny]

Second Option

Pairing: Dean Winchester x neutral!reader

Summary: You’re tired, tired of begging for attention, love and time. You tried your best to support Dean and Sam with their job, making them space and time for those activities. Though at some point, you feel like a leftover mission, and not the priority anymore. Dean had been treating you as if you were invisible, and at some point you snapped.

Note: I craved some angst so here we go, deep down into arguing… I‘m currently taking requests to get back into writing again, so don‘t be shy.

Warnings: established relationship with Dean, cursing, swearing, heavy arguing, shouting

Word count: 1350

You heard the motel door creak open, followed by heavy, dragging steps and the deep, tired sigh of someone who used to walk in with so much more life. You expected this mood already, even though you had hoped it would be different. You turned toward the sound, moving quickly, but the man who once lit up at the sight of you barely looked your way. Another shot, another aching pain in your chest and another moment where you questioned his love for you.

Where you once saw a smile, a mixture of desire and longing, you now faced a distant, cold gaze. Nothing that would charm a romantic person like you. Nothing that would comfort anyone - yet alone you. The eyes, that avoided yours as if meeting them might shatter something fragile, belonged to Dean. That look made your heart sink to the bottom, filling you with a hollow ache.

This situation had been building for weeks, that gnawing weight in your heart did so too. Especially the little moments hurt you; the sting when he turned his back to you in bed or the tears you swallowed because asking for love felt like begging.

Dean barely acknowledged you as he tossed his duffel onto the cluttered bed, already peeling off his jacket to head for the shower. The same routine, the same expression, the same tiring air between the two of you. The brothers’ endless hunts had become a black hole, pulling him farther away from you with every passing day. You watched him enter the bathroom, your chest tightening as you wondered if saying anything would even matter. You’d tried before, only to feel ignored; brushed aside like your feelings were just noise.

But tonight, the silence was crucially suffocating. After some moments where only the sound of water ruled, he finished cleaning all the sweat and dirt off of his body, yet one bother remained sitting in the other room - you.

He stepped out of the bathroom, towel draped over his shoulders, his expression taut with irritation. When he finally broke the quiet, though his words cut sharper than any blade.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? You mad?”

You stared at him, battling for self control. Of course, he couldn’t see it. Of course, Dean Winchester, with his armor of deflection and duty, couldn’t take a moment to notice the pain in your eyes.

“Dean, really?” you began, your voice trembling with frustration. “Do you even realize how you’re talking to me right now? Like I’m some burden you have to deal with?” Again, you felt as if you would just hit a wall. A wall that would push you back into your little corner, a wall that would distance itself in the same moment too. Dean, you wondered, why was he running away from you, when you did nothing but try to love him?

His brow furrowed, confusion giving way to irritation. “How should I know? I was...”

“Working all day,” you snapped, cutting him off. “I know. It’s all you ever do. You haven’t done anything else for weeks!”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, years of bottled-up anger coming to the surface. Dean threw his towel on the bed, his hands on his hips, his jaw tightening as he stared at you. The tense air intensified, and while you begged and cried, you met someone who didn’t understand you. Oh, where did it all go wrong?

“My job is to hunt! To save lives!” he shouted, his voice ringing out like a slap. His cold tone sliced through you, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Flashbacks of the person you encountered a year ago popped up, a loving smile, a cocky tongue and someone who would adore and admire you all day. Someone, who you fell in love with - though you felt as if the person in front of you was someone else.

“And what about my life?” you choked, standing now, your hands trembling at your sides. “What about me, Dean? I’ve been begging you for love - begging! And I get nothing. Do you even notice me anymore?”

The tears you’d been holding back for weeks finally broke free, spilling down your face in hot, stinging streams. Your voice cracked under the weight of your pain, the rawness of it echoing in the room. Your face turned so pale, yet you were on fire.

“I’m not just a convenience for you! I’m not some... some chore!”

Dean looked away, his shoulders stiffening, his lips pressed into a thin line. Like a kid, he tried to avoid this uncomfortable conversation, he didn’t want to deal with this right now. He refused to deal with … you. His silence only made it worse, fueling the anger and heartbreak clawing at your chest.

"Bullshit,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp enough to hurt. “Just tell me what you want instead of blowing up at me.”

Your breath hitched. “What I want?” you repeated, your voice trembling with fury. “I want you to think for yourself, Dean. To notice me - to really see me. Should I start wiping your ass too? Would that help?”

The vulgarity in your words shocked even you, but you couldn’t stop. Months of hurt and neglect poured out in a flood. “I’ve been here for you, Dean. I’ve cleaned up after you. I’ve cheered you up. I’ve stayed up waiting for you to talk to me, only for you to shut me out over and over again. But what have you done for me? When was the last time you made me feel like I mattered?”

His face twisted, and for a moment, you thought you saw regret. A little light of hope. But then his voice rose again, defensive and brittle. “Baby, I’m doing my best. We’re in the middle of a war, for God’s sake! The world doesn’t revolve around you!”

You sat down onto the chair as if he’d struck you. The words hit so deeply, they felt physical, leaving you breathless. Weren’t you his tiny world? Didn’t he say that at some point in your relationship?

“A war,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “And where am I in that war, Dean? Somewhere at the bottom of your priorities? Another thing you have to take care of? A second option?!”

Your voice broke completely now, your sobs wracking your body as you looked at him, defeated. “I feel lonely. I feel like I’m invisible to you. Like I’m just... a placeholder for something you’ll never have time for.”

Dean took a step forward, but you flinched, shaking your head. He stopped in his tracks, guilt flickering across his face. Now he got it, but was it worth? The cost for this realization was your fragile love, your shared bond, was that the price only to realize he had been wrong? It ached in his chest too, and he felt helpless. Just as you did.

“Babe, I -” His voice cracked, softer now, but it was too late.

You grabbed your jacket, your movements shaky and desperate. It was enough for today. You didn’t want to think about that situation any further. It pained enough already, so why should you force yourself to endure more?

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice laced with panic.

“I need space,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to figure out if this… I don’t know… if we are even worth it anymore.”

The door slammed shut behind you, leaving Dean standing in the emptiness of the room. He stared at the space where you’d been, his chest tightening with a pain he couldn’t name. His eyes burned as he sank onto the edge of the bed, tears slipping down his face.

„Fuck,“ his voice whispered. He would have preferred you to snap at him, but to leave him alone just made everything worse.

For the first time, Dean Winchester felt truly alone. And it was his own damn fault.