#and then maybe... well. maybe that best part will turn up on his doorstep again and he won’t be ashamed to meet her

[screeching-bunny]

Part 2 on the Yandere supernatural heram please.

Yandere! Supernatural Harem pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt.1

Your first ever viable memory was of a supernatural creature. At the young age of three, you encountered an extremely tall woman with long black hair dressed in a white dress. Looking back at the memory, she ended up turning out to be an urban legend called Hachishakusama. The eight feet tall women loomed down over you and followed you wherever you went. Everytime she was nearby you could hear her utter the sound “po” over and over again. Anytime you brought this up to your parents they would just brush it off as you being imaginative and thought that you made an imaginary friend. “Would your friend like to join us for dinner tonight?” Never, would they actually take your comments.

It wasn’t until you got tired of her appearance did you actually start to confront her. With your limited variety of vocabulary and baby voice, you spring out the sentence of “Why you follow me?” Only to be met with silence as you stomp your little feet on the ground. Geez how rude of her didn’t she hear that you asked a question?

Suddenly, the woman reaches her arms out to grab you. The grip of her hug was strong and firm. You were barely able to move around that much. Your tiny little brain panicked as you struggled to get free. It was the first time that you’ve ever experienced real fear. Soon, the woman opened her mouth and said, “Won’t you come home with me child. I’ll make sure to take care of you and treat you better than your biological parents.” You didn’t get a chance to respond before your mother burst into your room and screamed.

After that incident your parents took you to a Buddhist temple so that you could be dispelled from evil spirits or entities. This however, never really worked because some form of shape or another they just kept on crawling back. When your parents thought that you were safe you were finally able to leave the temple. Your parents wanted you to be extra safe so they decided to move out of the house and buy a new one. Thankfully, due to this incident they were more aware and took your concerns about others very seriously from then on.

Another vivid memory that you could recall was when you were at the age of eight. It was at the time when your new neighbors moved into the house next to yours. Your father wanted to greet your new neighbors and took you along with him. You remember waiting on their doorstep as your father knocks on the door. A few minutes pass and he knocks again. “Maybe they're not home, let’s come back later.” Just then the door swings open and out comes a tall blonde man. “Hi, we’re your new neighbors. We just came by to greet you and welcome you to our neighborhood.” The blonde man stared for a second before saying, “Thanks so much for that and your formalities. You have such a cute kid. I have two twin boys about their age, do you think they could play together?”

Just like that you were in the neighbor’s yard with his two twin sons. They were definitely an odd bunch with long bangs covering your eyes. Even though you couldn’t see them, you could feel their eyes following your form. As time went on hanging around them wasn’t that bad; they were very nice to be around and listen to basically everything you said. The only problem was that they were overly clingy, everywhere you were they just had to be as well. Another red flag was that they would never allow you to see their eyes no matter how much you pleaded and pestered, they would never allow you to see their eyes.

By the time that you were in the fifth grade, you three were inseparable best friends. During your time with them however, students at your elementary school started to go missing more frequently. An incident that you could remember was when you told the twins that you liked some kid and were planning to confess soon. A few weeks later your crush was missing and a community search was sent out. No matter how hard everyone looked no one could find them, it was almost as if they had disappeared out of thin air.

As the years went on more creatures showed up to you but they seemed to be intercepted by some weird force. You made sure to keep this a secret from everyone but your parents. It wasn’t until your senior year of high school that you found out the truth about your two best friends. One day, you just got so curious about what their eyes looked like that you peaked at one of the twin’s eyes when he was his face. His eyes were pitch black and darker than charcoal. Even though you didn’t know it at the time, they were called black eyed children.

Safe to say, you were extremely creeped out by this discovery but were even more creeped out that they were planning on kidnapping you to some faraway place. Yeah heck no, so on the day of graduation, you decided to run away from home to get away from them. You then wrote a letter to your family basically saying, “Yeah, so my childhood friends aren't actually human and it’s best I leave before anything happens to you or me peace out, xoxo your child.”

Leaving home was pretty rough for you. You’ve never felt so alone before in your entire life and to top it all off you were a newly fresh adult. Making it into an adult transition was difficult and confusing but you somehow managed with that.

Blasting into the future now, you were in quite a predicament. Waking up with your limbs tied to a bedpost was not your ideal way of starting your morning but hey at least your kidnapper didn’t you hard rope. Instead, it was a really thick ribbon and lace that bonded your arms. Your eyes start to adjust to the light as your vision starts to get clearer you notice that most of the furniture is Victorian styled. Soon you hear footsteps reach to the and it starts to open.

“My love, it seems that you're finally awake. Oh how I’ve dreamed of this moment, I can’t believe that this is real.” Wow this was totally not creepy whatsoever. Taking in his appearance you notice his sharp fangs and long glistening hair. Yeah he is definitely a vampire, this is so annoying you really did not feel like being a blood bag right now.

“Can you please untie me? I promise not to run away.” Before you could get a response from him, the ground suddenly started to shake, and you could feel your arms being freed. As you get up to run from your captor, you feel the arms of someone grabbing your waist. In a blink of an eye, you feel someone lift you up and fly you away from the vampire. “GOD DAMN IT, NOT THIS AGAIN.”

[wh0re43van]

Boyfriend (Warren Lipka X Reader)

Summary: you reunite with an old friend while making a delivery for your shitty boyfriend

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: smut, throat fucking, weed, cheating, not proof read

A/n: I have no idea how much weed costed in 2003 bc I was two years old. Also, I apologize if your name is Chelsea bc you will be slandered in this fic. Thank you for reading! <3

Pt 2 , Pt 3

I slam my boyfriends shitty car door, stepping out into the cold November rain, running towards the brick house, an 8th of weed shoved in my bra. I can’t believe my idiot boyfriend is too lazy to get out of his car to make his delivery. I’ve never even met this customer and his dumbass is having me waltz right up this random man’s house, while he’s parked a block away.

I pound on the wooden door before stepping back a bit. I shift back and forth on my feet as I rub my hands up and down on my arms trying to warm myself with the friction. After a couple of minutes, the door swings open, a man with unkempt brown hair and tired eyes steps out, looking a bit surprised. Those eyes. I know them. I cant put my finger on it, but I know him from somewhere.

“Uhm can I help you? Are you alright?” he asks, stepping out onto the porch closing the door behind him, looking me up and down, maybe trying to figure out why some strange girl is stood sopping wet on his doorstep, or maybe he recognizes me as well.

“Of course that dumbass didn’t tell you,” I sigh. “I’m delivering for Dakota,” I explain, pulling the plastic baggie out of my bra.

“Ah, okay,” he opens the door again, ignoring my hand offering the weed. “Why don’t you come in, get out of the cold?” he offers, holding the door open for me. I consider his offer; He seems kind, and he doesn’t appear to have the money on him anyway. I might as well wait inside while he retrieves it before I catch my death out here.

“Thank you,” I smile, stepping into the warm living room, part of me hoping that Dakota can see me going into the random man’s house. He leads me down to the basement, explaining that this is his bedroom.

“Make yourself at home,” he smiles, showing two familiar dimples on either cheek as he gestures to his couch. I smile back, happily taking a seat. He walks into the bathroom, coming back with a towel in his hand.

“Did you go to Tates Creek Highschool by chance?” he asks, offering me the grey bath towel.

“I did,” I smile. “Only for freshman year though, my family moved the next county over after that,” I explain. That must be where I know him from.

“Y/n, I thought that was you,” he smiles taking a seat next to me.

“Yeah,” I smile back. “You look familiar, but I’m sorry I can’t remember your name,” I blush, a bit embarrassed that I don’t remember him.

“Ouch,” He chuckles. “I thought getting detention together for stealing the teachers’ cigarettes would have been a bit more memorable,” he says, leaning back on the couch. Then it dawns on me.

“Warren?” I ask, shocked. “Little Warren Lipka?” I turn on the couch to face him, getting a better look- the best look I can get in the dim yellow lighting. I don’t believe it! He laughs at my reaction.

“I guess if you remember me as little Warren, I can see why you didn’t recognize me,” he says, reaching for his grinder and papers laying on the coffee table. “You got that 8th, beautiful?” he asks casually. I blush at the comment, pulling the weed out of my bra once again. I hand him the warm baggie.

“That’ll be 7 bucks, sir,” I grin. All the memories come flooding back to me when our hands touch as we exchange the substance for the cash. All the classes we skipped together, all the many hours in detention we spent alongside each other, the cigarettes that we would smoke under the bleachers. He was shorter than me then, he always had his hair buzzed and wore oversized clothes to hide his small frame. I guess he was a late bloomer, because the only remnants of that little boy are the deep brown eyes and dimples displayed like artwork on the handsome grown man in front of me.

“You look really good,” he breaks me out of my thoughts, sparking the joint he’s just rolled.

“Thank you,” I smile. He passes me the paper. I take a hit. “You look good yourself,” I exhale through my nose, handing the joint back to warren.

“So you’re a friend of Dakotas?” He asks, after sucking in a breath of smoke as he stretches his arm over the back of the couch and behind my shoulders.

“His girlfriend, actually,” My response catches him off guard, making him choke on the smoke.

“Holy shit,” he laughs in between coughs. “How the hell did that goon bag you?” he asks, flabbergasted. I can’t help but giggle, taking another drag off the joint.

“Sometimes I wonder the same thing,” I answer honestly. Dakota isn’t exactly the best boyfriend in the world. We’ve been dating almost two years and I’ve caught him with other girls multiple times. He doesn’t respect my boundaries or my aspirations, yet somehow, he always convinces me to stay. I guess when you’re as attractive as he is and as insecure as I am, it isn’t hard for him to convince me that he’s the best I’ll ever have.

“So what’s wrong with Dakota? Why couldn’t he make the delivery himself?” Warren asks, looking down at the joint between his lips as it glows crimson. “Not that I’m complaining,” he clarifies.

“He said he was tired and didn’t want to get his shoes wet,” I laugh, feeling the THC start to take effect. “Can you believe that?” I ask, laying a hand on warrens thigh in my fit of giggles. “He’s just sitting in his shit box a block away,” I say, feeling my eyelids begin to get heavy. Warren raises his eyebrows, looking at me with glossy eyes.

“Wow,” he scoffs. “I actually don’t believe that. I couldn’t imagine having your girl make deliveries for you. Thats some serious pussy shit,” he rolls his eyes, holding the joint up to my mouth. I take a hit from the hot paper between his fingers. I look down at the spliff, then back at him to find his eyes already fixed on me. “If I was your boyfriend, I wouldn’t let you make deliveries for me,” he says in a much quieter tone, the moment is almost intimate as I blow the smoke into his face that’s closer to mine than I realized, but I can’t bring myself to back away. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t want you smoking with me,” he adds, bringing the joint to his lips to take the final hit.

“Why’s that?” I ask in a whisper with butterflies in my stomach, breathing in the smoke that’s slowly rolling off his lips.

“Because it gives me the opportunity to do something I’ve wanted to do since freshman year,” he matches my tone, glancing at my lips, bringing his finger and thumb around my chin, tilting my head up towards him. My heart begins to race at his proximity, I know I should pull away from him, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Just as his lips barely brush against mine, my Nokia rings out, sounding like an alarm, making me jump in surprise, scrabbling to find the small cellphone on the couch.

“Hey babe,” Warren answers the phone, winking at me. My stomach drops. Fuck. I reach for the phone, but warren stands up. “Nah man she’s good she’s right here. I just gave her the mon- hey. Hey!” I hear warren begin to shout. I cease my struggle to grab the phone. “Is there a fucking problem man?” Warren seethes into the phone. I hear my boyfriend’s muffled speech. “Yeah, I didn’t fuckin think so,” he hangs up the phone, handing the small plastic brick to me.

“You look pretty stoned,” he says picking up a coat off the couch, wrapping it around my shoulders. “Let me walk you out. You remember where his car is?” he asks, putting his hand on the small of my back, ushering me to the steps. I nod my head yes, staring at him with wide eyes trying to process what just happened.

“Lead the way then, beautiful,” he grins, and just like that, the butterflies are back. I don’t dare respond, not knowing what will come out of my mouth.

The walk to Dakota’s car is silent but comfortable, still pretty baked, I feel the rain coming down in sheets. vibrating calmly in my bones. I stare up at the orange glow of the streetlights in the night sky in awe. Everything looks so beautiful when you’re high.

“Here he is,” Warren says approaching the small rust bucket of a car that my boyfriend drives. He opens the passenger door for me. After I’m seated, he leans in to look at Dakota. “Don’t have your girl make trips for you anymore, man. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he says calmly but it comes across like a threat, before tossing a couple folded bills at Dakota and closing the door. I’m glad he remembered the money. Dakota would have killed me if I had left it down there.

 My boyfriend is quiet. Much more quiet than he normally is when someone threatens his masculinity. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s scarred of Warren.

As Dakota pulls off, his Insane Clown Posse CD playing quietly, I look out the side mirror to see warren standing with his hands in his pockets, getting soaked in the rain in nothing other than his t-shirt and jeans, watching me ride away. As Dakota begins to bitch and complain my ear, all I can think about is when ill see Warren again, then I remember; I have his coat. It would be rude of me to keep it. I’ll just have to return it to him.

•

•

It’s been a week since my interaction with Warren, and I can’t stop thinking about him.

‘Is it so wrong that I want to catch up with an old friend?’ I ask myself. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with visiting a friend, the issue lies in the fact that the thoughts I’m having of him aren’t exactly platonic.

‘I’ll just drop his coat off, thanking him for the kind gesture and be on my way.’ I tell myself as I climb into my car. ‘Okay, maybe I could make some small talk with him, that’s innocent enough. Yeah, ill ask him about his job, if he’s going to school now, stuff like that’ I manage to convince myself that this will be a short, polite visit with an old friend, but a part of me must know the truth because I tell Dakota that I’m going out with my mother for lunch.

I park my vehicle on a side street near the Lipka house, just in case Dakota drives down here for whatever reason. I grab Warrens coat and walk up to the porch.

‘Maybe he’s not home and I’ll just hand it to his parents,’ I think as I knock on the door. The thought disappoints me, but maybe it’s for the b-

“Y/n!” Warren exclaims as the door swings open. “What a pleasant surprise,” he crunches on a Cheeto, crinkling the bag as he folds it shut.

“Hey Warren,” I smile at the man standing in front of me while he licks the Cheeto dust off his fingers.

“Come in, its freezing,” he steps aside so I can enter. I frown a bit.

“Well, actually I’m just here to return your coat,” I hold out the slick material.

“How kind,” he flashes his dimples. “Are you in a rush?” He asks as he retrieves his jacket.

“Well, no…” I trail off, trying to think of an excuse, but its hard to excuse yourself from something you want more than anything else.

“Then come inside real quick, darling, just to warm up,” he winks at me and I cant help but giggle. I surrender, stepping into his warm home once again,and following him down to his room.

I sit down on his couch as Invader Zim plays on his box tv.

“This may be a bold assumption,” Warren starts as he sits down on the cushion next to me. “But I think you may have come back for something more than the raincoat,” he suggests, looking into my eyes.

“Warren-“ I begin, but I don’t know what to say. He’s right. I want to desperately finish what we almost started last week. Just the faint brushing of his lips against mine has made me feel something I’ve never experienced before. I need to feel him-

“Free weed, right?” He grins picking up the rolling tray.

Oh.

 I can’t help but blush. I thought for a moment that Warren had already forgotten about our last encounter, but the wink he sends my way suggests that he meant exactly what I thought he meant.

“It’s not often that I don’t have to match,” I admit, pulling my legs up to my chest.

“You mean with friends, right?” Warren asks before he licks the thin rolling paper, holding my gaze as his tongue slowly slides across the wrap.

“Uh,” my breath hitches in my throat. Damn he looks so good. I’ve never wanted to be a rolling paper so bad in my life. “No, I mean in general. Dakota says he’s, uhm, running a business. So I have to pay or match what I smoke every time we, uh, spark. Or else I’m stealing from him,” I mutter out. Warren smirks at the pink raising in my cheeks once again. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Thank God he can’t see the pool forming in my underwear.

“No offense y/n,” he sparks the joint, inhaling a hit of hot smoke. “But Dakotas pathetic,” he breaths out.

“None taken,” I laugh as I take the paper from his hand.

“I mean for more than just the way he treats you,” he explains as I pass the joint back to him. “I’ve known him for a while. We met through a mutual friend, a few years ago. Started smoking together, then started dealing together and breaking into the chain stores around here, ya know, the ones that just throw shit away while people are starving,” he begins to explain as he sinks into the couch, leaning his head back, blowing a cloud of smoke towards the drop ceiling tiles of his bedroom. I stare at him, taking another hit, hanging on to his every word. I could listen to his voice all day. “Soon he started shorting people on weed, over charging behind my back, he was jealous of how well I was doing, always trying to one up me, bragging about how he’s making more money than me, not caring how he achieved it. Then one night, he decided he was going to try and break into a store by himself, of course he chose the corner store down the street, the one owned by the little old lady,” he chuckles. “I beat the shit out of him as soon as I found out,” he takes a hit. “Pussy didn’t throw a single punch back. Just curled up on the ground. Worst part is; he didn’t even get anything. She chased him off with a broom,” he runs a hand through his long brown hair, finally looking at me as he hands me the spliff.

“Wow, I guess that’s why he seemed so scared the other day,” I giggle. I should feel bad, this guy just told me he beat my boyfriend up, but I almost want to thank him.

“That’s also why I get a discount,” he grins as smoke rolls out of his nostrils. “But for once,” he leans in closer to me. “I’m jealous of him,” I can feel his breath on my face. “Seeing you ride off in that car with him last week was painful to watch. You should have been right here with me,” he pushes a loose strand of hair out of my face, and I melt into his touch.

“Well,” I take in a shaky breath, unable to resist those coffee-colored eyes. “I’m here now, Warren.” And with that, the world ceases to spin as he crashes his lips into mine. I’m suddenly aware of my quick heartbeat, every ounce of blood flowing throw my veins, the electricity that shoots from Warrens hands into my body. The smell of smoke on his breath and the slightly stale air in the basement invades my senses. The kiss is desperate and hungry; something I haven’t felt in years. I moan into his mouth as he pulls me into his lap to straddle him.

“This is wrong, Warren,” I pull away reluctantly.

“No beautiful, it was wrong when he called me asking for Chelsea’s contact last month,” he pants. The mention of that whores name makes my blood boil. She’s his most recent side piece. “Had I known he was with you, I would have beat his ass again instead of sending it,” he says honestly, as his hand runs gently up my hip. My mind is made up in an instant. I take the joint out of his hand, inhaling one last hit before I set it in the ash tray. I slide down to the floor on my knees in between his legs before I take my sweater off, tossing it to the side.

“You’re right,” I grin as I reach for his buckle. The pop of the metal releasing ringing through my ears as I shimmy the jeans off his body. I look up at Warren through my lashes, his eyes wide staring down at me with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. The sight makes my core tingle.

“May I?” I ask palming him through his plaid boxers, feeling his dick stiffen under my touch.

“I insist,” he grins, helping me slide the boxers off. My eyes widen at his length in front of me. He’s perfect. I take him into my hand, holding his gaze as I let spit drip from my kiss bruised lips onto his tip, allowing me to stroke him easier. He curses under his breath as I move my hand up and down his now rock hard dick. I smile to myself before wrapping my mouth around his tip, slowly moving down his length until he hits the back of my throat, then I hollow out my cheeks, as I begin to bob up and down. Warren lifts his head to take in the sight below him. He rests a gentle hand on the back of my head.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he groans, instinctively moving his hips in rhythm with my head. I hum in response as I bring my other hand underneath his length to massage his balls, earning a low moan from him.

Soon he takes over, holding my head as he thrusts into my mouth. I push him in as far as possible, gagging on his length. He stands up so he can properly fuck my throat. This isn’t something that I normally do, I never allow Dakota to use me like this. But right now, I think I would let warren do absolutely anything he desires, and I would enjoy every second of it. This is the first time I’ve ever been so turned on from pleasing someone else. My underwear is soaked my arousal and he’s barely touched me. The praise and moans coming from Warren is enough to get me off. The way his eyes peer into mine as he violates my throat, bringing a gentle thumb up to wipe the tears that creep out of my eyes makes my heart flutter.

“Come here baby,” Warren pulls out of my mouth, I gasp for air as he picks my up to carry me to his bed. He pulls his shirt over his head and asks permission to pull my pants off. I nod quickly, earning a chuckle from him. “You did so good for me,” he lays a kiss on my forehead, using his shirt to wipe the tears and spit from my face, I smile at the sweet gesture. He pulls me into a kiss after climbing on top of me, both of us now completely naked. Warrens hand wonders down to my heat, dipping a finger into my entrance, I whimper at the contact. “You really got off to me fucking your throat, huh?” He smiles against my lips, feeling how wet I am for him.

“Please just fuck me Warren,” I beg. He smirks as he lines himself up with me.

“You ready, beautiful?” He asks. I nod, impatiently scooting closer to him, begging for contact. He chuckles as he slowly pushes into me. Being stretched out has never felt so good. There’s almost no pain as I easily take him, a loud moan escapes my lips

“Shh,” he smirks as he continues to push into me, stifling his own moans. “My folks are upstairs baby, not so loud,” he explains.

“I’m sorry,” I giggle. “You just feel so fucking go-“ I cut myself off with another loud moan as he begins rocking his hips at a steady pace. I clamp my hands over my mouth to muffle my moans. Warren looks down at me as he he pounds into me, a hand reaching down to hold my breast’s that are moving in rhythm with his hips.

“God, you’re so stunning,” he praises as he uses his other hand to push his curls out of his face. The sight of Warren on top of me is something that I never want to forget. If this is the last time he has his way with me, I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. His hungry eyes that take the time to admire every inch of my body. The way his hair bounces as his cock pounds deeper inside me than anyone has ever been.

Suddenly, he pulls away, leaving me feeling empty as he lays down beside me.

“Come here darling,” he rests his back on the head board as he pulls me on top of him. “I want you to ride me. Can you do that for me baby,” he asks as he lays sloppy kisses on my neck. I giggle in response as I straddle him, happily allowing him to fill me once again. I let out a moan of relief as that void in my stomach is satisfied.

“Fuck,” Warren grunts. “You take me so well, beautiful,” he whispers as I bounce up and down on his cock. I lean forward to kiss him, muffling the moans coming from both of us. I move my hips in unison with his as his hand grips onto my ass spreading me open so he can pound as deep in me as possible. Im positive he’s leaving fingernail makes in the soft skin, but I don’t dare stop him. Warren reaches a finger down to rub circles on my clit, giving me just what I need to approach my release.

“Fuck,” I moan into our desperate, wet kiss. “Just like that Warren please,” I beg. Feeling my body heat up and my swollen cunt begin to throb. As Warren thrusts exactly where I need him, I come undone around him as I erupt in a fit of moans and praises. The euphoria quickly filling my body as my release drips onto Warrens twitching dick. He quickly throws me off of him, cum shooting up onto my chest and on to his stomach. I swiftly dip my head down, bringing him into my mouth to milk every last drop out of him.

“Fuck y/n!” He moans in surprise. Now it’s his turn to cover his mouth as he rides out his orgasm. I pull away to lay next to Warren, our chests heaving in unison.

“Holly shit,” he laughs after few minutes of comfortable silence. “That was…you were…wow,” he turns his head to smile at me, already looking at him.

“I can say the same to you,” I giggle, running my hand over his chest. He brings me in for one last kiss, this one gentle and kind.

“You can use my shower if you’d like, I’ve made quite the mess of you,” he smirks.

“Thank you,” I smile standing up. “Uhm, we’re definitely not going to tell Dakota about this, right?” I ask, suddenly feeling… not guilty… but nervous and almost excited in a strange way.

“My lips are sealed, beautiful,” he winks, taking my hand to guide me to his bathroom.

[hyunsvngs]

𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲 - lee minho x gn!afab reader

wc: 6.1k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: alcohol, normalisation of getting very wasted, smut (specific smut warnings under the cut, again minors please do not interact!)

synopsis: the best surprises come from the most unexpected sources - like having your crush corner you in a frat party after hearing you confess your deepest desires of him in the background of a video.

a/n: part one of the fratboy series. fratboy lee minho has now taken over my entire brain, my heart, and also my life, so i hope you all enjoy. PLEASE feel free to stop by our askbox to chat to me abt him because truly, i am obsessed.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: swearing, dirty talk, sexy mean minho, no seriously he’s mean, thigh riding, nipple play, begging, dumbification, degradation, penetration with a finger & dick simultaneously, talks about sex slaves (maybe only slightly serious), lovely aftercare

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When the opening notes of Half Moon by Dean met your ears, you couldn’t help but groan. You loved the song, but it signalled an incoming call that you’d been expecting all day. You flipped your phone over, confirming your suspicions; Jisung’s squishy cheeks flashed on your screen as his contact icon showed up.

“What do you want?” you asked as you answered the call, despite knowing very well what he wanted. 

At the beginning of the semester, your best friends had joined a fraternity, Sigma Kappa Zeta. It was an absolute dream - on paper at least. You didn’t have to commit to the endless fraternity obligations, which are often ridiculous and sometimes downright dangerous; although you still had regular invites to the blowout parties, owing to your connections to Felix and Jisung. You’d attended a few of these parties and enjoyed them thoroughly. Being pretty meant you got free booze, and what could be better than getting wasted for free, with two of your favourite people? While ogling their endless hoard of stupidly attractive friends, of course.

Your taste in men could be summarised as… unfortunate. You had an affinity for frat boys, the bigger and stupider the better. Muscular guys, with stupid goofy grins and sleeveless tees, bulging biceps and empty heads. Something about them really got you going, and it frustrated you to no end. But you loved to indulge yourself, and Felix and Jisung knew this all too well. And so, they were left baffled when you very quickly stopped attending these parties. Baffled, disappointed, and worst of all, persistent.

“Hey, angel,” Felix’s voice rang out from your speaker.

“You aren’t Jisung,” you stated.

“Very observant,” he responded, leading you to roll your eyes. You didn't even bother to question why he was calling you from Jisung’s phone. “Anyways, I assume you’ll be in attendance tonight?”

You snorted. “Obviously not.” 

“Y/N!” Felix’s deep voice gave way to a drawn-out whine. “Why not?”

“Cause I don’t want to spend time in your disgusting frat house,” you huffed. 

“Not even for me?” he pleaded with you.

“This isn’t working. You can’t guilt-trip me when I can’t actually see your stupid adorable face,” you pointed out.

“Fine, I’ll turn my camera on-”

“No. Look, why don’t you and Ji come drink with me in my dorm? Like the good ol’ days?” you suggested. Good ol’ days referring to a few months ago, before they’d joined the fraternity.

Felix paused for a few moments. “Fine. Maybe. Only because we miss you!”

“Come over then. See you soon!” You hung up before he could argue any more - you all knew you’d won. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Just moments after Jisung and Felix showed up at your door, you began to consider the possibility that maybe you didn’t win after all.

“Y/N!” Jisung cried, before proceeding to push past you and collapse onto your bed. “Why do you never hang out with us any more?!” 

You turned to Felix. “What have you brought to my doorstep?”

Felix shrugged. “He chugged like, three beers before we even left.”

"I guess we'd better catch up then." 

It wasn't long before you were all feeling merry, though it would be amiss to say you'd caught up with Jisung, given that he often seemed intoxicated even when he was sober.

"I miss you guys, too!" you insisted, hushing the boys' griping. And you really did miss them. Since classes had ended, and people had limited obligations, the frat seemed like a 24/7 party house at the moment, which meant you hardly ever saw them. "I just… these frat parties, it's not really my scene."

The look Felix sent you told you that he didn't buy it, not one bit. The look Jisung sent you, on the other hand, told you that he was currently so drunk that he had a very tenuous grasp on reality, and was just happy to be involved.

"I've seen you eye up at least three guys at the frat. Not your scene? Nothing has ever been more your scene," Felix said, his tone accusatory. "I know it's nothing to do with us. So spill. Why are you avoiding the frat?"

Jisung had wandered off to the other side of your room, where he seemed to be making a concoction of different beverages. He didn't seem to be making a mess, so you thought it best to leave him while he was quiet.

You huffed. "Fine. One of your stupid little frat bro's is driving me insane. But I won't say who!" you added hastily.

Felix's eyes glinted. "Driving you insane? In what way? Like, someone's pissed you off? Or they're making you insanely horny and you don't know how to handle it."

You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "You know me too well, Lix."

Felix laughed gleefully. "Changbin?"

"Don't start guessing! I'm not gonna tell you!"

"Chan?"

"No!"

Felix paused, thinking hard. "It's Minho."

"It’s not Minho!"

He cackled. "You're an open book, it's Minho! You're horny for Minho!"

You let out a weak whimper in protest. "I just… God, nobody's ever affected me like this before, Lix! I don't even wanna be around him 'cause I know I'll say something stupid. Or maybe just start drooling on him."

Felix shrugged. "I guess I can't blame you. He is a gorgeous guy."

"Understatement of the century," you scoffed. "If I had to choose between solving world hunger and sucking his dick, I'd choose his dick. A thousand times."

Felix, in that beautiful drunken phase where everything was utterly hilarious, was clutching his stomach, in complete stitches on your floor.

"I'm not even joking, Lix! I'd devote the rest of my life to being his sex slave. He wouldn't even need to feed me, I'll survive off his cum if I have to!"

Felix wiped a tear from his eye. "Stop, stop. You're killing me." He turned to Jisung, who was still apparently playing potions with various different drinks.

"And that," Jisung said to no one in particular, "Is how you make a Hanji Supreme."

"What the fuck are you doing, Ji? Are you vlogging over there? Get your ass over here and listen to what Y/N has to say about Lee Minho."

"Okay, bye!" Jisung said, still seemingly speaking to thin air. He turned to you, eyebrows raised. "Minho? Y/N has the hots for Minho?"

"Unfortunately," you confirmed.

"We could probably set you up with him," Jisung proposed, a dastardly grin on his face.

"No," you quickly denied. "Never. Under no circumstances do you ever mention my name in Minho's presence. Got it?"

Jisung pouted. "But then your dreams are never gonna come true!"

You chewed on your lip. "I feel like a stuttering mess whenever I even think about him. I can't imagine what'd happen if I actually spoke to him."

"Wait, you've never spoken to him?" Felix clarified, and you shook your head. He smirked. "You were saying some pretty vulgar stuff, considering he's practically a stranger."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a creep and a perv. That's why he can never find out about this. Seriously," you said sternly, directing this last part at Jisung. He wasn't exactly known for keeping secrets. 

Felix looked him up and down. "I don't think he's even going to remember this tomorrow, if I'm being honest."

"Yeah," you agreed. "He seems like he's done for the night." The boy was lying flat on his back, the brim of his beanie pulled over his eyes. His phone was buzzing away on his chest, notification tone pinging every few seconds.

Felix sighed. "I just hope he doesn't get one of those second winds."

“Jisung, honey, is someone trying to get hold of you?” you asked, the chiming of his phone growing irritating. You figured he’d texted one of his many booty calls and then instantly forgotten about it.

“Huh?” he asked, clearly not really listening.

Felix’s phone began to buzz on the floor. “Someone’s trying to get hold of me.” He brought the phone to his ear. "Hey, what’s up? He's - he's what?" Felix covered his other ear. "It's really loud over there, did you say he's on the table? Christ - okay, okay, we'll be right over." 

"What was that?" you asked. "Is everything okay?" 

Felix sighed. "Hyunjin's partying a little too hard. Seungmin can't deal with him alone. C'mon, we gotta go wrangle him."

"We just went over this - I'm not stepping foot in Minho's territory, not even for a second," you said adamantly. 

"Relax, he's partying with Theta Chi Theta tonight," Jisung slurred happily, sitting upright and fixing his beanie. "C'mon, Y/N, come party with us!"

Felix looked to you pleadingly. "I can't deal with drunk Jisung and drunk Hyunjin without you. Please."

Fuck. Felix knew you could never say no to his puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine."

Even with the knowledge that Minho was preoccupied somewhere else, you still felt a little wary as you stepped into the house. It did occur to you that you could be a little too terrified of this man, but you knew all too well that both your horniness and your stupidity were utterly limitless, which was always a recipe for disaster.

You heard Hyunjin before you saw him - "Why can't I get naked, though? It's so hot in here!" 

You snickered. He was still on the table, although he looked a little wobbly so you doubted it'd be too long until he came tumbling down. Jisung wandered off, probably up to no good, whilst you and Felix hurried over.

Seungmin breathed a visible sigh of relief when he saw you. "So glad you're here. Okay, I'm off duty. Good luck." He had vanished within seconds. 

Hyunjin waved excitedly when he caught sight of you both. "Hi Lix! Hi Lix's pretty friend!" 

You laughed at his drunken boldness. "It's Y/N," you corrected him.

"I know." He grinned down at you from the table, eyes disappearing into crescents. "You're brave, too," he crooned.

"Brave?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"If I was you, I probably wouldn't show my face around here until the end of the semester, at least," he went on.

Felix narrowed his eyes at the boy. "What are you talking about?"

Hyunjin stared at Felix for a moment. Then switched his gaze to you. Then back to Felix. Before erupting into a fit of giggles.

"Oh my god, please sit down before you fall and crack your damn skull," Felix pleaded with the boy.

"Yeah, and more importantly, explain yourself," you added. 

Hyunjin sat obediently, pulling out his phone and handing it to Felix. 

"Oh fuck," Felix breathed. "I have the group chat muted right now." 

"The group chat?" you enquired anxiously. "Please tell me what's going on." Your paranoia was getting the best of you, and while you stood waiting for someone to fucking explain, you were slowly convincing yourself that you'd stolen Felix's phone and confessed your attraction to Minho in the most crass and unrefined terms.

This wasn't too far from the truth.

Felix opened up a video, skipping towards the end. You noticed Jisung, sitting cross-legged on the floor of your dorm room, chattering away about various beverages. More prominently, however, you heard your own voice, from the other side of the room. 

“I’ll survive off his cum if I have to!”

Your heart plummets to the ground as the memory comes rushing back. Fuck. 

You grab Felix’s arm, holding on for dear life. “Tell me this isn’t happening. Tell me Jisung only sent that to Hyunjin and no one else.”

Felix handed the phone back to Hyunjin and placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. “Look, it’s going to be okay. People say stupid shit like this all the time-”

“Oh look, Minho’s read the messages!” Hyunjin calls out.

You put a hand over your mouth. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“He’s typing!”

“No!” you wailed.

Hyunjin turned his phone around once more. You peered at the screen in turmoil as three dastardly little letters popped up.

lol

"Oh, Y/N, you're so lucky he's not here tonight," Felix said, sounding relieved. Distantly, you felt a shred of relief too, although that was nothing compared to the complete and utter dread you were experiencing. Oh, the consequences of your own drunken, horny actions. Was there anything worse?

"Oh," Felix murmured, pulling his buzzing phone out of his pocket. "Oh." 

"What?" you asked.

"He's calling me." 

You called out "Don't answer it!" just as Hyunjin yelled "Answer it!"

Felix accepted the call, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Oh my god, I'm scared. Hold my hand." You scrambled for Hyunjin, who grasped your hand in his before giggling.

"Your hands are soft," he commented, apparently having forgotten the Minho debacle already. You swiftly hushed him.

Felix also raised a finger to his lips in a shh motion, before putting the call on speakerphone.

"Are you at the house? Is Y/N with you?" Minho’s voice came through the speaker.

Felix paused, looking at you with wide eyes. You shook your head furiously. 

"Uh, yeah," he answered, the traitor. You fought hard not to scream.

"Can you pass a message across?" you heard Minho ask.

"Sure."

"I'm on my way." The line clicked dead.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. “LEE FELIX WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL HIM I'M HERE?" 

"I DON'T KNOW, I PANICKED!" he shrieked back, sounding equally as alarmed as you.

“This is crazy,” Hyunjin commented with a dazed grin.

“You are far too drunk to understand the absolute catastrophe I’m in right now!” you accused him. “Oh my god, what am I gonna do? I need to go - immediately.”

“Not so fast.”

You spun around in complete and utter horror, terrified that Minho had somehow materialised from his other party right back to the frat. Only to find Seungmin standing before you - just slightly less threatening.

“Jisung is far too drunk, and he’s begging for you,” he explained.

“God, what is in the air tonight?” you observed. “Do you guys need to do a fraternity-wide detox?”

Seungmin snorted. “Like that’s ever gonna happen. Go on, Jisung’s in his room.” 

God fucking damn it, why were you such a good friend? You tore up the stairs, bee-lining for Jisung’s room, fully intending on hiding in his bedroom for the rest of the night. Minho wouldn’t find you in there if you locked the door, right? You were even willing to put up with your best friend’s snoring.

"Hey, Sungie," you said gently as you walked into his room. You found him curled on his bed, still dressed in his hoodie, cargos and beanie. 

"Y/N… You're finally here…" he mumbled.

"You sound sleepy. Is it bedtime?" you asked, sitting down on the bed beside him. You tugged the beanie off his head, and ran your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp gently. 

"Bedtime? Hmm… No… It's still party time for now." His words were slurred, and you knew he was just minutes from dozing off - seconds, maybe. 

"Sure," you said, as it was typically better to just agree with him. "You wanna get your pyjamas on? We can have a pyjama party."

"No. I'm comfy like this." You seriously doubted it, but didn't have it in you to battle him right now.

Sure enough, he was snoring less than thirty seconds later. You wondered if it was worth shoving him a bit, to climb in bed beside him, or whether it'd be best to just run home. But you didn't know how far away Minho was, and the thought of bumping into him was too much to bear. 

You deliberated for a few moments, but Jisung's snoring was driving you insane, and you quickly realised that you weren't equipped to deal with it tonight.

You pulled out your phone, opening Felix's contact.

[10:44pm] You: lixie do u have minho's location?

[10:44pm] You: lix please please please

[10:44pm] You: felix pls i need to know how far he is

You sat on the edge of Jisung's bed, leg bouncing with nerves. Why was Felix always muting his damn notifications?

[10:48pm] Lix: idk sorry :( i think his party was nearby though

[10:48pm] Lix: look, just run to my room

[10:49pm] Lix: you'll be safe there

You weighed up your options. 

Option one: stay here with Jisung, awake all night owing to his snoring and his complete domineering of 90% of the bed space, stressing about Lee fucking Minho.

Option two: run out of the frat house, and all the way home to safety, but risk bumping into Minho on your way out.

Option three: run down the hall to Felix's room, where you can vent to him all night and then eventually fall asleep with his sunshine cuddles.

It could only be option three.

His room was just down the hall, you reasoned. You would yank open the door, tear down the hallway, and land safely in Felix's bedroom. It would be easy. 

You took a deep breath, before pulling open the door and preparing to run.

“Ah. Look who it is.” 

Shit.

Minho stood in the hall with an unreadable expression. His eyes scanned your whole frame, and he took his time with his scalding gaze. His eyes crawled all the way up your legs, lingering up your thighs. Slowly moving from your hips, to your waist, to your chest. Before landing on your eyes - that’s where his inspection burned the most. You couldn’t even breathe. 

“All bark and no bite, hm?” 

“I… I just…” you stammered weakly.

He continued to stare at you, waiting for you to finish. “You just?”

“I’m sorry!” you managed, your voice barely above a squeak.

He folded his arms across his chest, looking amused. “What, pray tell, are you sorry for? For blabbing about my dick to anyone who’ll listen? Manners mean everything, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked me nicely. There was no reason to bring everyone into our business, now, was there?”

You simply blinked at him. You weren’t capable of anything more. He was clearly waiting for a response, though, smirking over at you expectantly. “W-What?” you managed eventually.

“Or are you apologising for your dirty mouth? Honestly, I didn’t expect that from you. You look so sweet, who knew you could be so… improper.”

You felt dizzy. “Improper?”

He pouted at you, and it was dripping with condescension. “Can you speak, darling? Or are you so cock-hungry you can’t manage more than a one-word answer?”

“I-I just don’t know what to say, is all,” you whispered.

“Just give me a yes or a no,” he invited you, holding his hand out for you to take.

You gave him a slow nod, placing your hand in his shakily. He smiled as if to say ‘right answer,’ before opening the door right next to Jisung's, and leading you into his bedroom. The room was remarkably neat and tidy, and you would’ve been impressed if you could even begin to process it. All of your mental energy was focused on not combusting - or coming on the spot. 

He allowed you to step into the room before closing the door behind you. You were then quickly pushed up against it, Minho pinning you against the wood with his hips. Had that squeal really just come from your mouth?

His eyes were transfixed on your lips. You waited, heart hammering in your chest, while he had you trapped there. Until this point, you really hadn't been sure whether he was angry at you for saying such explicit things about him. The look in his eyes revealed everything - he wanted you just as badly.

He leaned in slowly. Torturously slowly - evidently, he was going to take his time with you. His lips met yours in a gentle peck, which he repeated, again and again. You sighed against his lips, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt and pulling him closer, but he merely smirked against your pout.

"Please," you breathed.

"You're so desperate," he said with a low laugh. "I could give you what you want, Y/N, but I know you wouldn't be able to handle it."

"I can take it," you protested, your voice sounding much whinier than you wanted it to.

"You can?" he asked, cocking his head and looking down at you condescendingly. You nodded insistently. "Okay."

Minho picked up the pace. His lips were soft but they bit at yours harshly. His tongue entered your mouth and you savoured his taste, sucking on his tongue gently.

Your hands went to the button of his jeans, swiftly unbuttoning it. Minho pulled away, stepping back and leaving you pouting once more. He laughed, that awful patronising sound yet again, that made your palms sweat and your thighs sticky. 

"What, you think you're gonna get my dick that easily?" he asked, cocking his head at you. "No, honey." 

"Please?" you asked. It sounded pitiful, even to you.

You watched as he went to his neatly made bed, tugging off jeans and laying back. "Come here," he instructed, lounging back against the wall. "Take your clothes off for me."

"T-Take my clothes off?" you asked meekly. It sounded pitiful even to your ears.

The look he gave you was scathing, although he did seem rather amused by the pathetic show of stupid desperation you were unfortunately displaying. "Well you can't expect to stay fully clothed if I'm gonna fuck you, right?"

You nodded, standing in front of him and looking down at your feet. "I… I feel shy all of a sudden."

"You feel shy? I don't know if you'd make such a good sex slave after all." He laughed before growing serious. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'll look after you, if we do, but the choice is yours."

His kinder tone set you at ease, and made you realise that you really wanted this, you were ready for this. It also brought about the realisation that you much preferred it when he was mean. You didn't want to dwell on what that meant, though. 

You gathered your courage and slowly pulled your clothes off, standing before him in nothing but your underwear. Minho said nothing, but you felt as though you were on fire under his gaze. 

He wasn't the only one who was enjoying the view. Your eyes traversed his toned thighs, mouth watering as you thought about how it'd feel if he were to press one between your legs. He wore plain white briefs, and you couldn't help but stare at the prominent bulge inside them. Even semi-hard it looked huge. You noticed it twitch ever so slightly, as he looked over your exposed body.

Minho spread his legs slightly, before tapping his left thigh. "Come on, darling. I know what you want."

Was he a mind reader? You wasted no time, climbing onto the bed, straddling his thigh and beginning to slowly grind. He tensed it, so firm and strong beneath you. The perfect platform for you to drag your clit across. 

Minho's hands went to your waist, holding you gently, guiding you as you rolled your hips.

"That's it, baby, there you go," he encouraged you. The friction was enough to make you sweat, the pleasure overwhelming you. He was right - maybe you couldn't handle this. You couldn't even imagine how overwhelming it would be to actually feel his hands on you, feel his dick inside you. 

His dick.

You could see it growing harder in his briefs, a small damp circle near the head where precum had leaked. You couldn't resist the temptation any longer; your hand reached out almost involuntarily, cupping his bulge gently. It was firm, and warm, and growing bigger seemingly by the second.

Minho took your hand, instantly re-directing it. "No, no, don't touch. Not until I say you can."

"But I can see how hard you're getting," you said. "You want it, Minho!"

"Unlike you, I know how to restrain myself." He patted your waist gently. "Keep riding."

You gave a frustrated huff, but did as he said. 

Minho brought a slender finger down to your crotch, hooking it around the fabric of your underwear and moving it out of the way. "Let me see that pretty pussy," he murmured.

The new exposure made you moan aloud, hands gripping Minho's shoulders firmly as you rode him.

"Please," you whispered. "Please, Minho."

"Please, what? Use your words."

"Please fuck me," you asked.

He pretended to consider it for a moment. "Hmm… No. Not yet."

You groaned. "I need it, though!"

Minho snickered. "Don't be such a brat. I want to take my time with you, okay?"

"You can take your time next time! Just - please - fuck, please, I need it."

He raised an eyebrow with you. "Oh, so there's gonna be a next time, is there?" 

You ignored his quip. If you couldn't get in his pants just yet, you'd focus your attention elsewhere. You lifted his shirt slowly, revealing his stomach, where you found lightly toned abs that only made you more desperate to feel him. Miraculously, he humoured you, pulling his shirt over his head.

You gasped, running your hands down his chest. He was beautiful, tight pecs and perfect little nipples that stood to attention in the open air of his bedroom. You ghosted a finger over one of them, entranced.

"I thought that'd shut you up," Minho commented under his breath.

"Beautiful tits," you muttered unintentionally as you admired his pecs.

Minho smiled. "I could say the same thing about you, angel." He placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer and bringing one of your nipples into his mouth. He wasn't gentle about it, sucking and biting without holding back. You cried out, your hips pausing their grinding motions, your system completely overloaded by his harsh actions on your sensitive nipple.

"Keep riding," he mumbled, not even taking your nipple out of his mouth as he spoke. 

You dragged your clit across his muscular thigh, whimpering loudly as you went. "Oh god, please, Minho! I need you inside me." 

"Then beg for it."

You wasted no time. "Please, Minho, please, please! I need your cock, I've never needed anything this bad. I know I'm just a filthy little slut but please give me what I need, fuck, I'll die if you don't!" 

"You really are a filthy slut," he agreed, lifting you from his thigh and laying you on his bed. 

"Yes, yes, please Minho!" you babbled.

He pulled your underwear down, leaving you completely naked before him, before tugging his own briefs off. 

Holy fucking shit, you thought.

His dick was beautiful. That was the only way to describe it - fucking beautiful. It was long, with a vein running along the underside, and the girth was decent too. The head was thick, and red, and if you weren't so desperate to be fucked you would've sucked on it for hours. 

"I know you want it," Minho said. "But do you deserve it?" He stroked his dick slowly, and you watched as the head disappeared into his fist, emerging again as his hand ran along his shaft.

"I don't know, but I need it," you insisted. "I'll do anything." 

Minho shook his head, but he looked smug. "Alright, baby. If you need it that badly."

"Yes, yes, yes," you chattered, intoxicated by a dick that you hadn't even felt yet.

He pushed your knees up to your chest, and you hooked your arms around them, holding them in position and peering down to watch his motions. "Such a perfect pussy." He rubbed the head of his dick across your clit, and you whined loudly. Distantly, you wondered if the sounds of the frat party below would even be enough to drown out your incessant noises of pleasure. It was irrelevant, though; you didn't care enough to stop.

He dragged his dick through your folds, over your hole, back up to your clit. Minutes ago, you would've killed a man to have Minho touch your pussy, but already you wanted more. He made you so greedy. It felt good but your thirst for more was unbearable, intolerable.

"Alright, baby, are you ready?"

"Yes!" you cried out.

Slowly, he sunk the tip of his dick inside you - just the tip. Thick as it was, it slid in with hardly any protest. He sighed as it went in, clearly needing the sensation more than he let on.

"More," you pleaded.

"You'll take what I give you, when I'm ready to give you it." Minho saw you roll your eyes at this, but said nothing.

He pushed the head in and out of your hole, never putting more than two inches inside. 

"Please give me the whole thing, Minho!"

He simply shook his head. "You wouldn't be able to handle it. Dumb baby."

"I can handle it!" you insisted. "I swear I can!" 

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow that told you he was unconvinced. "You can?" You nodded. "You're gonna cry like a little baby." 

"Just give me your stupid dick right now!" 

Minho laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, baby. Here comes my stupid dick."

He held your legs down against your chest, and slammed his whole length inside you. You saw stars. He thrusted, hard and fast, and you were somewhat aware that you were moaning probably louder than you ever had before, but all you could truly focus on was his cock filling you up. He was hitting your g-spot on every single thrust, grunting as he fucked you.

"God, you're tight," he groaned. He re-positioned his hips, and somehow managed to hit deeper. You felt him against your cervix, and cried out in pain.

"Too much," you weakly protested as your eyes filled with tears. 

"I thought you could handle it?" he said, his voice lacking any sympathy. "Fucking pathetic, begging for a cock you couldn't even take." 

"I-I can, just not so deep."

Minho smirked down at you. "It's not my fault my dick's so big," he said, but adjusted his thrusts slightly anyway. 

"I can take it," you promised. "I-I can take anything you give me, Minho."

"That's right, baby. My filthy little whore." His voice was calm, but his eyebrows were furrowed and sweat was dripping down his forehead - the pleasure was overwhelming him just as much as it was destroying you. 

Minho leaned down, connecting his mouth to yours as he fucked you. You sighed happily, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking his tongue into your mouth. You couldn't help but moan. His dick fucking your pussy, his tongue fucking your mouth. This was heaven, you were sure of it.

He pulled away. "You think you could take some more?" 

"More?" you asked, eyes wide. 

"Just a little more. For me?"

You nodded hesitantly.

Minho paused his thrusts, but before you could whine in protest, you felt his finger rubbing at your opening. Slowly, he pushed his index finger inside, along with his dick. The painful stretch was incredible, and you whimpered at the feeling. 

"There you go, babe," he said, beginning to thrust once more. He closed his eyes, losing himself to the sensation. "Fuck, this is nice and tight."

You were barely even lucid at this point. You babbled incoherently, unaware of what you were even trying to say. You were completely and utterly spellbound by his dick, by the sweet burning stretch. 

"Touch yourself for me, baby," Minho directed you. 

"F-Fuck- I don't know if I can-"

"I thought you wanted to be my sex slave, hm? Pretty little slaves do as they're told." 

You whined, but obeyed his command. "M-Minho… I'm gonna cum if I keep going."

Minho barked out a laugh. "Cum then. I don't care. But don't take your fingers off that pussy, not even for a second."

You were beginning to think that maybe you weren't cut out for this. You hadn't even reached your climax yet, and already the overstimulation was too much. Your stretched out pussy was throbbing, and you jolted each time Minho's dick pounded your g-spot. You were drenched, covered in your own sweat as well as Minho's, which was dripping onto you from his hair, his forehead, his neck. The air in the room was thick, and smelled entirely of Minho - you were covered in him. He looked like a god above you, fucking into you like it was his life's mission.

It was too much for you to handle, without a doubt. And yet, you'd be happy to spend the rest of your life underneath him. Or on top of him. Or in any position which meant his dick could be inside you.

"Minho… Minho!" you whimpered.

"C'mon, baby," he encouraged you, his voice strained. From the sounds of it, he wasn't far from finishing either - although you got the sense he could keep going all night if he willed himself to. "Cum around my cock like the dirty little whore you are." 

That was all the prompting you needed.

Your ears started ringing. You let the almost unbearable feeling of ecstasy wash over you, flooding Minho’s cock. You knew you were crying out maybe a bit too loudly - but you didn’t care, thrashing in Minho’s hold and grasping the bedsheets for dear life as he fucked you through it. He didn’t slow his pace, riding out your intense orgasm caused by the man of your dreams and making you feel as if you’d been set on fire.

"Does that feel good, baby?" Minho crooned, continuing to fuck you as he went after his own orgasm. You could only manage a high-pitched whine in response. "Just a little longer, baby, you can do it. Just lie there and let me use your tight little pussy, that's it." His voice was hoarse, and the veins on his neck were prominent. You knew he was going to cum soon, but you didn't know if you could hold on. You were over-sensitive to the point of pain, hands gripping Minho's bed sheets.

"Cum - give me your cum," you urged Minho. "Now, please."

His eyes widened. Your command had seemed to catch him off guard a bit. He pulled out of you, and you watched as thick ribbons of pearly white cum oozed onto your abdomen. You gasped gently as you watched. It was perhaps the most beautifully erotic thing you'd ever seen. His dick was definitely a contender for the prettiest one you'd ever fucked, and his cum was thick and heavy, dripping from the tip like a waterfall.

"Thank you," you whispered. He leaned in, kissing you deeply. He tasted like sweat, hot and sticky, and you moaned. 

He pulled away, before planting one more kiss on your forehead. "You're welcome."

Minho stood, going to the other side of his room. You tried to follow him with your eyes, but you felt so weak and tired that they slipped shut immediately. He returned seconds later, and you lay still, sighing as he cleaned you up. His touch was so gentle, so soothing, so different than it had been just minutes before.

"That better?" he asked, discarding the towel.

You nodded. "You want me to go crash with Felix?" you asked, unsure of what exactly this arrangement was.

"Nah, you reek of sex. Felix wouldn't want you." He helped you climb under the covers. "Plus, I wouldn't mind some company tonight." He slid into bed beside you, and you rolled over, laying your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, and you felt incredibly safe secure, especially considering just how utterly terrified you'd been of this man a few hours ago.

You giggled softly, so tired and fucked out that you felt a little delirious. "Can't believe you fucked me, Minho."

Minho gave a short laugh. "Can't believe you convinced me to fuck you so easily. You're a little minx. I really wanted to play with you some more."

You nestled into his chest. "I guess there'll have to be a next time then, huh?" 

"Yeah," he agreed. "If you're lucky."

"You wanna fuck me again, Minho, I know you do," you mumbled. "I saw the look in your eyes when you came. You need my pussy."

Minho was silent for a few seconds. "You're awfully bold for someone who was crying on my cock ten minutes ago."

"...Yeah." 

"Get some sleep, sweetheart." No more than ten seconds later, you were sleeping in his arms. 

You slipped into the land of dreams, where you went on to fantasise about Minho - his thighs, his neck, his tummy, his hands. His kisses, his touches, his dick in your throat, in your holes. Minho everywhere. Were you completely insatiable? Maybe. But it seemed very likely that he'd give it to you again. In your sleep, you smiled.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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[niby-skaje]

Emmrich shouldn't be allowed to become a Lich if romanced.

Okay. Hear me out.

Regardless of our personal views as a player/Rook on a subject of lichdom, I feel, given what we've learned, that lich lords of Necropolis should not allow Emmrich to become a lich if he has a beloved.

Lichdom is important. It is rare - so rare that Emmrich himself mentions that he was the lords' first living petitioner in a long time. There aren't many liches there I suppose. We only get to see a maximum of three at a time. It is not something to be trifled with, as the process is some high, advanced magic with the soul sifting required and the journey one has to partake - journey of self-discovery and learning to even be considered worthy. And then it still can go wrong. Our soul may still fail the final test (I assume it must be a possibility).

And then, the burden - the burden of knowledge, of power and responsibility that they have. We know that if we choose to bring Manfred back, then lichdom is lost for Emmrich forever for it shows that he cannot accept that others, those dear to him, will inevitably die, and that would mean that he might be susceptible to the abuse of power, as the lich we speak to states. Such power in the wrong hands could easily lead to tyranny.

But when Emmrich is romanced, he becomes even less able to accept mortality - this time not only his own, but Rook's as well. And while lichdom may take away the fear of death he's felt all his life (if in a healthy way, that's another matter entirely), it replaces it with something new - the fear of losing his love. And not just fear - the knowledge, the certainty, that Rook WILL die. If not now, then someday, in twenty, maybe forty years. But it will. It is as certain as life and death itself.

And Emmrich has waited so long for the love of his life! Even if we omit all the banter and all the little things in the game, he himself tells us that we are the best thing that has ever happened to him. Most magnificent, in his own words. And from the little bits here and there we get to know that he longed for that kind of love all his life.He has turned to other things, to the pursuit of knowledge and immortality, because he has given up hope - only for love to find him so late, right on the doorstep of his lichdom. He accepts it, he allows himself to be swayed by that love, he immerses himself in it completely, like a besotted fool (again, in his own words).

With all that, we know that once the time comes, he cannot and will not let Rook go. He may have slight doubts and we may talk to him about it, but we know that he cannot really choose and in the end he refuses to do so, assuring us that his love will be unchanged even as a lich. But that is not true, for now his love is different, as he now knows that we will be parted and he will remain. The dread he's felt all his life now changes its target, and the love and the fear become so intertwined, so painful, in a way he didn't even expect.

Very, very dangerous for someone with such immense power.

And then, after being trapped in the Fade he tells us that he will allow nothing to part us again. "Not in this, nor any other world". He will find a way, no matter the cost. Even as a lich, though some of his senses may be altered or dulled, he still feels, the emotions still flow within him as they did when he was mortal, perhaps even more so. He loves Rook more than anything in the world, he dreads the time when they will be separated, he dreads how he would go on without them, how he would mourn them for eternity... though now he has all the power and knowledge and time of the lich. He may be able to find a way - even if it is an abuse of the responsibility of his new position. He is blinded by love, even in a state that should transcend all things mortal.

Lich lords are not supposed to care about themselves, for they are meant to serve the Necropolis, to thwart any dangers outside of mortals' grasps, they are to guide and protect. A higher purpose, not of the flesh and the heart, but of wisdom and reason.

With all that in mind, with all the potential for abuse of power he is given, I cannot fathom how the lich lords could entrust such power to romanced Emmrich - or anyone else, for that matter, who is unwilling to sever their ties with the mortal world once and for all. For me, there should be no doubt that to ascend as a lich, one must shed all mortal ties, whatever they may be - and that includes love.

Emmrich's obligatory tax.

[theonottsbxtch]

WHATS LEFT BEHIND PT.4 | MV1

an: GROVELLLINGGG i need me a bull rider max verstappen i swear to god his little smile and UGH i would commit crimes for him, anyway enjoy!

summary: when max verstappen left his childhood girlfriend behind to face her career ending injury alone to chase his dreams of being the best bull rider the country has ever seen, he thought it would be easy. except it wasn't, he was back in town and they hated him, for one reason. they hurt their star barrel racer.

wc: 5.5k

part one | part two | part three |

Max had no idea why he thought this was a good idea, but at 5:45 a.m., he was standing on her doorstep, holding her favourite coffee and breakfast sandwich in hand. His heart hammered in his chest, and his breath clouded in the cool early morning air. The bag of food rustled in his grip as he shifted on his feet, hoping that this wouldn’t completely backfire.

He was well aware that one breakfast wouldn’t erase years of hurt, but it was a start. He had to start somewhere.

The sky was still tinged with the last hints of night, the town barely stirring awake. He’d spent too many sleepless nights replaying their kiss, feeling the weight of her hurt and all the things left unsaid. This was his first step toward making things right—showing up and proving that he was here to stay.

Her house was quiet, no sign of movement behind the windows. He glanced at his watch again. She was an early riser, always had been, and he hoped he hadn’t miscalculated the time.

Just as he was considering leaving the coffee on her porch and making a quiet retreat, he heard the creak of the front door behind him. He turned to see her stepping out, her hair still damp from the shower, looking as though she hadn’t quite woken up yet but was ready for the day. She paused when she saw him standing there, her eyes narrowing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone flat, but he could see the flicker of curiosity in her gaze.

Max swallowed, forcing a small smile as he held out the coffee cup. “I, uh… thought I’d bring you breakfast.”

She stared at him, her eyes moving from the cup to the sandwich bag in his other hand, then back to his face. Her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but then she shook her head and moved past him toward her truck, saying nothing at all.

Well, that went about as well as he expected.

“Sweetheart,” he called after her, stepping forward quickly. “It’s your favourite. Black coffee, no sugar. And an egg and bacon sandwich, just like you used to get.”

She didn’t turn around, didn’t even slow down. But when she reached her truck, she paused. For a split second, she glanced over her shoulder, her gaze landing on the coffee. Without a word, she extended her hand, and he quickly passed her the cup.

Max watched as she took a sip, her face giving nothing away. She pulled open the truck door, still silent, and tossed the coffee into the cupholder as if it were an afterthought. She slid into the driver's seat, and the engine roared to life.

He stood there, watching her pull out, unsure if he had made any progress at all. But just before she turned onto the main road, he saw it—the faintest glimmer of something.

Her fingers curled around the coffee cup as she took another sip.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as she drove away. She hadn’t slammed the door in his face or told him to go to hell, and she hadn’t thrown the coffee out the window. For now, that was a win. Maybe a small one, but a win all the same.

As Max watched her truck disappear down the road, he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. The quiet rumble of the engine faded, leaving only the early morning sounds of birds beginning to stir and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

He turned to head back to his own truck, feeling that faint flicker of hope from the coffee exchange still lingering in his chest. But as he passed the barn, something caught his eye—the door to her stable was hanging at an awkward angle, one of the hinges loose and the wood splintered. He paused, frowning.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he wandered over to inspect it closer. The damage wasn’t new; the wood around the hinge looked worn and cracked. The entire stall looked neglected—the bedding inside hadn’t been mucked out in a while, the hay was scattered and half-moulded. The familiar smell of manure and damp straw clung to the air, stronger than it should’ve been for a stall that was regularly cared for.

Max thought back to the other day where he’d seen Luna in Leslie’s barn. It made sense now. She must’ve been using Leslie’s stable because her own had fallen into disrepair. A wave of something unfamiliar hit him—guilt, maybe, or regret. This wasn’t like her. She used to take pride in everything being just right when it came to her horses.

He chewed his lip, standing in front of the broken stall door for a moment longer, then made a decision.

Maybe she didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give it.

Without another thought, Max turned back toward his truck, digging through the back where he kept his toolbox. Years of being on the rodeo circuit had taught him a thing or two about fixing up stables, trailers, and anything else that came with working with horses. He pulled out what he needed—tools, nails, and looked around her barn to find some spare wood boards—then headed back to her stable.

The first thing he did was unscrew the damaged hinge, pulling it free and tossing it aside. The wood creaked as he worked, but his hands were steady, focused. His mind, on the other hand, was a mess. He thought about her, about the years he’d been gone, and how much he had missed seeing her in this very barn, laughing, mucking out stables, grooming her horse with such care.

He had abandoned that world—their world. And looking at this neglected stable now felt like a reminder of how he’d left things with her: broken and unattended.

As he worked, time passed quickly. He replaced the hinge, secured the door, and patched up the splintered wood with the boards he’d brought. Once the door was fixed, he moved inside, mucking out the old straw and replacing it with fresh bedding. The smell of clean straw filled the stall, and by the time he finished, the stable looked almost new again—like the way she used to keep it.

Standing back to admire his work, Max wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The sun had fully risen by now, casting warm light across the barn. The job wasn’t perfect, but it was something. It was a start.

He wasn’t sure how she would react when she found out, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the right thing to do. Fixing her stable was one small way to show her that he wanted to help, that he wasn’t going to run away this time.

Sliding his toolbox back into his truck, he stood by the driver’s side door for a moment, staring at the barn in the soft morning light. He felt a strange sense of satisfaction, mixed with nerves. He hadn’t planned to stick around after dropping off the coffee, but now that he’d done this, he felt like he’d left a small piece of himself behind.

Maybe that was what he needed to do—piece by piece, action by action, until he could finally prove to her that he was here to stay.

Max was just about to leave when he noticed something else—a porch step leading up to her house was cracked. One of the wooden boards was split right down the middle, dipping slightly under pressure. He walked up to it and stepped on it, the wood groaning, threatening to give way.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. How long had she been stepping over this, risking a fall every time? He knew her leg wasn’t perfect again, it was dangerous for her to have that there like that.

It didn’t take much convincing for him to grab his toolbox again. He couldn’t just leave it like this. First the stable, now the porch… How much more had she been shouldering on her own all these years?

With a quick glance at the time, he decided he had enough daylight left to fix the step before she got home for lunch. But he’d need more wood. He hopped into his truck and headed down to the local hardware store, grabbing a few planks of wood and some extra supplies for good measure. By the time he returned, the sun was sitting higher in the sky, marking the late morning, and he got to work.

He started by removing the old board, carefully prying it loose without damaging the other steps. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he worked, and each crack of the wood sent memories rushing back—of him helping her dad fix things around the ranch when they were kids, of them sitting on this very porch, laughing, planning their futures. A future that had been so easy to leave behind, yet so impossible to forget.

Halfway through installing the new step, the sound of an engine approaching caught his attention. Max looked up just as her truck pulled into the driveway. His stomach twisted with nerves, but he forced himself to keep working, pretending not to notice.

The truck door slammed shut, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stepping out, wearing the same expression she’d had that morning—guarded, unsure, but somehow less cold than before. She paused by the porch, noticing the tools, the new plank of wood in his hands.

“You fixing my porch now too?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Max straightened up, wiping his hands on his jeans, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Figured it was about time someone did.”

She glanced at the half-repaired step, then back at him. For a second, she just stood there, as if she wasn’t sure what to say. Then, without a word, she smiled—a real smile, small but genuine—and with a light hop, she stepped over the broken porch board and headed for the door.

That smile hit him harder than any of her glares or icy words ever had.

Max grinned, watching her as she disappeared inside. That tiny, almost imperceptible smile was more than he’d hoped for when he started all this. He stood there, hammer in hand, his heart thudding with satisfaction.

Progress. Small, sure. But progress nonetheless.

He bent back down to finish the job, feeling lighter than he had in days. If this was what it took to win her back, he’d fix every damn thing in her life until there was nothing left to fix. And even then, he wasn’t going anywhere.

As he hammered the last nail into the new step, the front door creaked open again. She stepped out, a water bottle in hand. She leaned against the doorframe, watching him work.

"Didn't think you'd be so handy after all these years," she said casually, taking a sip of water.

Max looked up, wiping his brow. "Guess I never forgot how to fix things, even if I broke a lot more than I fixed."

She looked at him for a long moment, the playful glint in her eyes softening. She didn’t respond, but that silence between them felt...different. Less tense. More open.

She gave him a quick nod before hopping back over the repaired step and heading to her truck. As she climbed in, she took one long look at him and smiled again. Max couldn’t help but smile as she drove away, the fresh scent of wood still hanging in the air.

It was just a smile. Just a sip of coffee. But to him, it felt like the first real win he’d had in years.

The following morning arrived with the kind of early light that made the world feel fresh and new. Max pulled into her driveway just after sunrise, the quiet hum of his truck the only sound in the peaceful stillness of the ranch. He parked, glancing over at the house, making sure there were no signs she was up yet.

He slid out of the truck, balancing two cups of coffee and a brown paper bag filled with her favourite breakfast. He placed them carefully on the porch, positioning the bag next to the coffee with a little note tucked under it that simply read: "Enjoy. - M."

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the note,taking a sip of his own coffee as he hoped this small gesture would get him another one of those smiles. Maybe even a thank you this time. But he wasn’t expecting anything. Not yet.

Turning away from the porch, he eyed her truck parked beside the barn. It was filthy, covered in dust, and dried mud clung to the tires from her trips across the ranch. Without thinking twice, Max grabbed some cleaning supplies he knew she kept in the shed behind her house—bucket, sponge, soap—and got to work.

The cool water sloshed in the bucket as he soaked the sponge and started scrubbing away the grime. His muscles ached from the last few days of manual labour, but it felt good. Every swipe of the sponge felt like another step toward redemption. Maybe this was how he could prove himself—not through words but by doing the things she didn’t ask for but needed.

He was halfway through washing the windows when he heard the creak of the screen door. He glanced up, and there she was.

She stepped out onto the porch, barefoot, hair messy from sleep. His heart thudded once, hard, as his eyes travelled downward. She was wearing one of his old flannels—oversized on her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows—paired with short sleep shorts that left her long legs bare in the morning sunlight. For a split second, his brain stalled, eyes glued to the familiar sight of her in his shirt, like some vivid memory had sprung to life in front of him.

Shit.

He snapped his gaze away, focusing on the task at hand, but it was too late. His pulse had already spiked, and his hands fumbled slightly as he wrung out the sponge. He told himself not to let his mind go there—not after everything they’d been through. But damn, it was hard not to think about how good she looked.

She didn’t say anything. She glanced at the coffee and breakfast on the porch, her lips twitching in what might have been the start of a smile, and then she looked back at him. He felt her eyes on him as he worked, and even though she didn’t say a word, the silence between them felt... different. Less guarded.

She disappeared inside for a few moments, and he figured that was that—another day, another quiet gesture, and he’d let it be. But when she came back out, she placed a bottle of water on the porch rail near where he was working, almost like an unspoken acknowledgment.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she said finally, her voice soft but clear in the morning stillness.

Max nodded, not trusting his voice just yet. His throat was tight, the sight of her in his old flannel still rattling around in his mind, so he just gave her a small smile and kept scrubbing the truck, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the way his heart was hammering.

She lingered for a second longer before heading back inside, the screen door shutting gently behind her. He exhaled, finally letting out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

He glanced at the bottle of water she’d left out for him. It wasn’t much—just a simple gesture. But it was more than he’d expected, and the fact that she’d noticed, that she’d even bothered to leave it out for him, felt like a victory.

His grin widened as he finished cleaning the truck, knowing that, slowly but surely, he was getting to her.

Max was just finishing up, wiping the last few streaks off her truck windows, when he heard her voice drift through the open kitchen window. He didn’t mean to listen, but her tone caught his attention, and before he knew it, he was eavesdropping on her conversation.

“No, Mum, I was going to make the banana bread today,” she said, frustration lacing her words. “But I just realised I don’t have enough flour...or eggs. And these bananas are already overripe. If I don’t use them soon, they’ll go to waste.”

There was a pause, and Max could imagine her pacing back and forth, probably chewing her bottom lip the way she always did when she was annoyed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll figure something out,” she sighed. “Maybe I’ll go to the store later... I just don’t feel like leaving the house right now.”

Max couldn’t help the small smile creeping across his face. He remembered how much she loved baking, especially on the weekends when she had some downtime. Banana bread was one of her favourites—something she used to make for him when they were younger, back when things were simpler.

An idea sparked in his mind. It wasn’t much, but if he could help her out in some small way, maybe it would chip away at that wall she’d built around herself.

He tossed the rag into the bucket and glanced toward her house one more time before heading for his truck. He made a quick stop at the local grocery store, grabbing the essentials she’d mentioned—flour, eggs, and a few other things he thought she might need. But as he walked down the produce aisle, something else caught his eye: a small bouquet of sunflowers. Her favourite. Without a second thought, he added them to his cart.

By the time he got back to her place, the house was still quiet. He could hear faint music playing from inside, but there was no sign of her coming outside anytime soon.

Perfect.

Max quietly made his way up to the porch, placing the grocery bag down by the door. He carefully arranged the bouquet of sunflowers next to the bag, making sure they were the first thing she’d see when she opened the door. He didn’t leave a note this time. He didn’t need to. The gesture was enough.

For a moment, he hesitated, wanting to stick around and see her reaction. But no—that wasn’t the point. He didn’t want her to feel pressured or obligated. This was about showing her, bit by bit, that he was serious. That he could be the man she needed him to be.

With one last glance at the flowers, he turned and headed back to his truck, leaving the scene just as quietly as he had arrived.

Inside the house, she hung up the phone and glanced toward the window. She hadn’t heard Max leave, but the sight of her newly cleaned truck parked outside reminded her of his presence. There was something comforting in knowing he’d been there, even if she hadn’t asked him to be.

She stretched and decided to step outside for some fresh air. As she opened the door, her gaze immediately fell on the bag at her feet and the bright splash of yellow sunflowers.

She blinked, surprised, and crouched down to inspect the bag. Flour, eggs, even some sugar—and the sunflowers, of course. Her heart gave a little flutter, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t fight the small smile pulling at her lips.

It didn’t take much to realise who had left them. Only one person would know how much she loved sunflowers.

Max.

She stood in the doorway, staring at the bag of groceries and the sunflowers. She felt a strange warmth bloom in her chest as she reached down, brushing her fingers over the petals. For a second, she considered leaving everything there, maybe pretending she hadn’t seen it—but she couldn’t. The sight of those bright sunflowers, her favourite, was like a small crack in the carefully constructed wall she’d spent years building.

She sighed, picking up the bag and the bouquet, and headed back inside, the door creaking softly as it shut behind her. As she placed everything on the kitchen counter, her mind wandered back over the last few days. It had been relentless. The coffee, the fixed stable, the repaired porch, and now this.

Each gesture felt so simple, yet so intentional. Max wasn’t just showing up to apologise—he was showing up in all the ways she’d needed him to before, in all the ways she’d tried to move past. And that realisation hit her like a punch to the gut.

She pulled out the flour and eggs, setting them on the counter as she began gathering the rest of the ingredients. Banana bread. Her mom had suggested it, and she hadn’t even realised at the time that she was thinking of him when she’d decided to make it. It had always been his favourite.

Back when they were young, she used to bake for him every weekend. He’d come by after working the bulls or training, hungry and exhausted, and she’d have the kitchen smelling like cinnamon and bananas by the time he arrived. She’d never forget the way his eyes would light up when he saw the loaf cooling on the counter. That easy smile, the one that always made her heart race, even when she tried to pretend it didn’t.

Her hands moved on autopilot as she mashed the bananas, her mind playing through memories she hadn’t let herself revisit in years. She could almost hear his voice in the back of her mind, teasing her for adding too many walnuts one time, or for baking the bread just a little too long on another occasion.

He used to sneak slices before they’d even cooled, and she’d scold him playfully while he grinned like a kid getting away with something.

“Darlin’, you spoil me,” he’d always say, mouth full, and she’d roll her eyes but secretly love every second of it.

That was before. Before the injury. Before the fame. Before the day he’d left without saying goodbye.

She poured the batter into the loaf pan, her movements a little slower now as the memories tangled with the present. She couldn’t shake the image of him standing out in the driveway, washing her truck, fixing her porch, or that damn bouquet of sunflowers sitting on her counter now.

He was relentless, and she hated how much it was affecting her. It was so much easier to stay angry, to cling to the betrayal that had fueled her for years. But his persistence—it was wearing her down.

She wiped her hands on a towel and stared out the window above the sink. The sun was climbing higher now, lighting up the barn with soft golden hues. She glanced toward the porch, half-expecting to see him still there, but the driveway was empty.

She hadn’t asked for his help, not once. And yet, he kept showing up.

She could feel something shifting inside her, something that scared her more than she wanted to admit. He was getting through, bit by bit, and that made her angry—not at him, but at herself.

As she slid the loaf into the oven, she leaned against the counter, her arms crossed as she let out a frustrated breath.

“Why now, Max?” she muttered to herself, her eyes flicking toward the bouquet of sunflowers. “Why couldn’t you have done all this eight years ago?”

But deep down, she knew the answer. Back then, neither of them had been ready. He had been running from everything—his feelings, his fears, his dreams—and she’d been holding onto a fantasy that wasn’t real.

Now, things were different. They were both different. But was it too late?

As the smell of baking bananas and cinnamon filled the kitchen, she found herself lost in thought, wondering whether all of Max’s grovelling was just temporary—whether he’d stick around this time, or whether he’d bolt the second things got hard again.

She didn’t want to admit it, but the idea of him staying terrified her almost as much as the thought of him leaving again.

And the worst part? Despite everything, despite all the pain and resentment, she still cared. She still wanted to believe him.

As the oven timer ticked down, she glanced at the clock and sighed, grabbing her coffee from the counter. She took a sip, tasting the warmth and comfort of it, and for the briefest moment, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Maybe, just maybe, Max was winning her over after all.

She stared at the golden-brown loaf cooling on the counter, the smell of freshly baked banana bread filling her kitchen. She’d sliced off a small piece for herself—just to check that it was done right, of course—and, as soon as the familiar taste hit her tongue, memories rushed in. It tasted exactly like it used to—like weekends spent laughing, teasing, and sharing moments with Max that had once felt like they would last forever.

A thought crossed her mind before she could stop it. Should she take him some?

She frowned, standing in the middle of her kitchen, arms crossed. There was no reason to give him anything. If anything, she should keep it all to herself. But then again, he’d done so much for her in the last few days. The coffee, the repairs, the quiet way he’d just...been there, even when she didn’t want him to be. And now here she was, thinking about doing something for him.

"Fine," she muttered to herself, grabbing some wax paper and wrapping a few slices of banana bread tightly. She placed them in a small container, shaking her head at how ridiculous this all felt. "Just a thank you. That’s all."

Before she could second-guess herself, she grabbed her truck keys and the small container and headed out the door.

The drive to Max’s place wasn’t long, but with every mile closer, her heart pounded a little harder. When she finally pulled up outside his cabin, she parked at the edge of his driveway and hesitated for a moment, gripping the steering wheel.

She wasn’t going to knock on the door. No way. This wasn’t some grand gesture or olive branch. It was just...banana bread.

Taking a deep breath, she hopped out of her truck and quietly walked up to his front porch. She placed the container right by the door, gave one last glance at the house, and turned quickly on her heel before she could change her mind.

She was back in her truck and driving away in seconds, leaving the small gesture behind her like a secret she wasn’t ready to face.

Max had spent the morning out in the barn, fixing a broken fence panel that had been bothering him for days. The work had done wonders for his mood, keeping his mind off her and everything swirling between them. He knew he had to be patient, that winning her back wasn’t something that would happen overnight. But damn, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hard.

As he finished up, the sun high in the sky, he walked back to the house, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was about to open the front door when something on the porch caught his eye.

A small plastic container, carefully wrapped, sat by the door. For a second, he just stared at it, confused. Then recognition clicked, and his heart did a little flip.

Banana bread.

He crouched down and picked it up, opening the lid to find a few perfectly sliced pieces, just like he remembered from years ago. It was the same banana bread she used to bake for him when they were kids—when they’d spend lazy weekends together, when things were easy and right.

He blinked, the realisation slowly settling in. She had brought this for him. After everything, she had taken the time to make something and leave it for him, even if she hadn’t stayed to say it herself.

His chest tightened, and for the first time in a long while, Max felt a rush of something that wasn’t guilt or regret. It was happiness, pure and unfiltered. She might not have said the words, but this was a step. A small one, but it was enough for him to hold onto.

He sat down on the porch, leaning back against the wall, and took a bite of the banana bread. The familiar sweetness hit his tongue, and it was like being transported back in time—to when she used to make it for him, to the laughter they’d shared, to the love they’d both felt before everything had gone so wrong.

Max smiled, closing his eyes and savouring the taste.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew there was still a long way to go before things could ever be right between them again. But this? This was a win. A quiet, small win, wrapped in wax paper and tied with memories of what they used to have.

For the first time in eight years, Max felt like things might just work out.

He finished the last bite of banana bread, letting the taste linger as he sat on the porch, the empty container beside him. His mood felt lighter than it had in days, like maybe things were finally starting to fall into place. With a satisfied sigh, he stood up, stretching his sore muscles before heading back inside.

His place was quiet, the kind of quiet that had always felt like a weight, but today it didn’t bother him as much. He tossed his sweaty shirt into the laundry basket and grabbed a towel, heading toward the shower. The hot water felt good, washing away the grime from the morning’s work. His mind wandered back to her —how she’d left the banana bread, how she was starting to soften, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

He smirked to himself, running his hands through his wet hair. He’d take it slow. He had to. But there was hope now, more than he’d had since he first came back.

Just as he stepped out of the shower, still dripping water, a loud pounding came from the front door. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it loosely around his waist, and frowned.

“Who the hell...?”

The pounding came again, louder this time, like whoever was on the other side had zero patience.

“I’m coming, hold your horses!” Max called out, running his hand over his face as he crossed the small hallway. He swung the door open to find Leslie standing there, arms crossed, looking as stern as ever.

“Les? Where’s the fire?” he asked, eyebrows raised, still clutching the towel around his waist.

Leslie’s eyes barely flicked down at his bare chest, clearly unimpressed. She held out a shirt—a work shirt.

“I don’t know how you pulled it off, but here.” She shoved the shirt into his chest. “You start tomorrow morning. Six o’clock. Don’t be late.”

It took a second for her words to register, but when they did, his eyes widened. He stared at her, blinking, his heart thudding in his chest.

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Leslie didn’t crack a smile, but there was a glint in her eye. “Looks like someone finally decided to forgive you. Don’t make me regret it.”

Max felt a grin spread across his face, his chest swelling with relief and something close to joy. Forgiven. He’d finally been forgiven.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Les, I—thank you. I mean it.”

She stepped back, eyeing him up and down one last time. “Don’t thank me. You earned it—barely.” She turned to leave but paused before heading back down the steps. “Oh, and Max? Maybe next time, put on some damn pants before you open the door.”

Max laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Noted.”

Leslie waved him off and headed back to her truck, leaving Max standing in the doorway, shirt in hand, the towel barely holding on. He stepped back inside, shutting the door behind him, and let out a long, deep breath.

He’d done it. He’d actually done it.

Not just the job, but her. He knew Leslie wouldn’t have come to offer him work if she hadn’t forgiven him. It wasn’t much—maybe just a sliver of forgiveness—but it was enough.

A smile tugged at his lips as he walked back to his room, pulling on the shirt Leslie had brought, staring at her barn logo in the mirror. Tomorrow, at six in the morning, he’d be working at the barn, just like he’d wanted.

And, maybe even more important than that, she was finally letting him in—just a little, but enough to give him hope that there was still a chance for them. He wasn’t going to waste it.

He glanced at the clock. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

part five

[feyhunter78]

Flowers on Your Doorstep

Art cred: Panprika (y'all have no idea how long I searched for this pic, I was losing my mind)

Description: After you bail on lunch, Miguel finds himself seeking advice on how to deal with your cold shoulder.

You’re ignoring him, phone on do not disturb, dodging him on campus and you’re even skipping lab. Of course, the TA said you emailed saying you were sick, but Miguel doesn’t believe it.

He knows you, knows you always push through, that you never skip lab because you’re too afraid you’ll miss something important, and your grades will slip. You’re not sick, this is something else. Something that you won’t tell him, and Brett won’t tell him either.

So, he turns to his next best option, Mina. She’s laying on Gabriel’s bed like she owns it, phone in hand, the room smelling faintly of weed. First, she glares at him, and then clicks her tongue disappointedly, sighing, “you just had to go running around with Ava again, huh?”

“Bro really?” Gabriel groans from his desk, spinning around in his chair to face Miguel. “She’s the fucking worst.”

“She just needed someone to talk to, she doesn’t trust anyone else, I was just being nice.” He says, massaging his temples as Mina continues to click her tongue, the tsk, tsk, tsk sound starting to give him a headache.

“You know what she does to you.” Mina chides, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

He does, he knows it all too well. Ava brings out the worst in him, she corrupted him, as you might say. But she’s still a person he once cared about, even if she stomped on his heart and threw it in a gutter, all the while laughing with her new boyfriend.

“She’s changed, she and Kyle broke up.” He shouldn’t be defending her, he knows that, but there’s still a part of him that wants to prove it wasn’t a mistake to love her.

“Oh again? What is this the twelfth time? I’m sure it’ll last this time around.” She deadpans, raising a perfectly arched brow at him.

Gabriel snickers, then gives Miguel a half-hearted apologetic look.

“What does this have to do with y/n, Mina?” He says tersely, running a hand through his hair, frustration burning, licking at his heels. He just wants to leave, to find you and beg you to tell him what he did wrong.

“She likes you, dumbass, and then she found out you’ve been hanging around Ava, while you’ve been hanging with her. What do you think that looks to her?” Mina asks, her expression making it clear to him that the answer should be obvious, and that she thinks he’s stupid.

He’s going to be sick.

“I—I would never—it’s not like that, I don’t want Ava back, I was just trying to be nice, I didn’t think…”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Mina scoffs, going back to her phone and tapping it a few times.

His stomach churns as he thinks back to earlier this week, the way Ava dragged him away, distracted him with stories from back when they were dating, good ones, funny ones. It was only meant to be a short conversation, you were supposed to get lunch, like always, he wanted to get lunch with you, like always.

He can picture it now, you hiding behind the Sig Epp letters watching him, watching the way Ava still didn’t understand boundaries and put her hands all over him. He could hear the tears coating your voice when he called you, it was like a knife through his chest and he just wanted to go to you. Wanted to wipe away your tears and do something, anything he could, to make it better.

“Look Miguelito just apologize, maybe bring some flowers and wear that sad puppy dog look you’ve got perfected.” Gabriel chimes in, stretching his arms above his head, before standing and approaching him, squeezing his shoulder empathetically. “You can never go wrong with flowers.”

Gabriel was wrong, very, very wrong.

You take the flowers Miguel offers you as he stands on your doorstep, patient, anxious, stomach still twisted in knots.

“Did Ava not want these or…?” You ask, inspecting the flowers with a detached look.

“No—no, I mean, they’re for you, only for you.”

“Oh, okay so she got her own, cool, cool.” You say, placing the flowers on the entryway table next to your door and crossing your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t get Ava flowers.”

“Okay.” You say, foot tapping against the wood laminate of your doorway.

“She’s my ex-girlfriend, we dated for a while, she cheated on me.” He admits in a rush.

Your frigid expression melts into something softer. “I—I didn’t know that.”

He rubs his neck sheepishly. “I don’t like to talk about it. It was a really rough time in my life. But her and I are over, I don’t have any lingering feelings for her.”

“Brett told me. He’s seen you and her together, both before we got close, and after…” You wrap your arms around yourself, your eyes downcast. “If you still have feelings for her, I get it, she’s gorgeous, and you guys have a lot of history.”

“I don’t have feelings for her, we broke up the summer before my freshman year here. She just transferred in at the beginning of this year, and she’s been having problems with her boyfriend. I guess she hasn’t really made any friends, so she’s been leaning on me.”

“And you’re too nice to say no to her.” Your voice is soft, tainted with sadness.

“I told her to find someone else, after you canceled lunch, she wanted to keep talking, keep flirting with me because she knew her ex would see us. I said no.”

You look up at him, half in hope, half in disbelief, it’s written all over your face. “Yeah?”

He nods.

You bite your lip then release it slowly, picking the flowers back up. “These are really pretty.”

He gathers his courage. “Just like you.”

A smile flits across your face. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression with Ava, I shouldn’t have left you stranded while I talked with her, we had prior plans, and I should have stuck to them.”

“It’s okay.” You tell him, holding the flowers to your chest.

He wants to ask you if what Mina said was true, if you feel the same way he does, but it feels wrong somehow. Like it would cheapen the moment.

“Do you want to come in and see our costumes for the dance?” You ask, taking a step back and allowing him entry.

Directly connected parts: Jealousy, Jealousy (previous part) and Semiformal Kisses and Cat Fights (takes place after this current part)

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425

[dorotheataylor]

Back to December

Pairing- Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

Summary- You broke up with him because you thought he deserved someone better than you. But here you stand, outside his door, apologising for that night, after realising you loved him too much to let him go. Based on Back to December (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift.

Warnings- angstttt but fluff at the end, hurt/comfort, no curses!au, swearing (maybe), slight ooc suguru (hes called clumsy hehe), probably my english lol.

Word count- 2.3k (excluding lyrics)

A/N- atp yall just know how much big of a swiftie I am lol. So here’s a new fic based on another taylor song haha. And from now on I will write for JJK fandom too coz i’m obsessed lmao. Let me know if you find any mistakes coz this isn’t proofread and hope y’all enjoy.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You knocked three times on the door of the house you knew all too well as you picked your nails.

Will he want to see you? Will he shout at you? Will he tell you to get lost? Whatever he does, you knew you deserved it.

You stood outside his door impatiently, nerves getting the best of you while you waited for him to open the door. You could hear things falling down from behind it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was always the clumsy one. One of his things which you missed too much. Your eyes fell on thought of this. Oh how much you wished for a change in your mind back then.

You heard the lock of the door being undone and you started to freak out from inside. Was it a good idea to come here? Maybe. You were about to find out.

“Sorry for the delay. I was caught up-” You heard his voice quiet down when he saw you. God how much you missed his voice. You could listen to his voice every second of the day if possible.

You’ve been good, busier than ever

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in your presence on his doorstep, as if he was making sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

The way he said your name, ached your heart. Because it wasn’t filled with love or warmth as before, instead it was more like recognising a stranger.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “long time no see, Suguru.” You smiled slightly.

He couldn’t believe it. He never thought he’d ever see you again after that unfaithful night. The wishes he made to see you every night before he went to bed actually came true. He could actually hear your voice after whole six months. He felt like he was about to cry.

Your guard is up and I know why

All he wanted to do at this moment was to take you in his arms and never let you go again. But he knew he couldn’t. What if you were here to make things even more awful than they already were? He couldn’t handle another heartbreak. So he stood his ground and decided to talk to you in a civil way.

“Come inside. It’ll start s-snowing soon.” He said, mentally cursing himself for stammering as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Thank you.” You muttered before entering his house. The familiar feeling came back to you. The aura and memories of his house, where you had spent countless nights together crashed into your mind like ocean waves. It was overwhelming and you did your best not to burst into tears.

“I’ll bring you something to drink. You can make yourself comfortable till then.” You heard him speak as he quickly walked into the kitchen.

Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You knew he was doing his best to avoid a more than casual conversation with you. Because the last time you had talked, things turned bitter.

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

You still remembered that day like the back of your hand. He had showed up at your house with roses to surprise you and take you out on a surprise date. And you, being a stupid person, ruined it all.

“Here. I didn’t have anything else except for hot chocolate plus I know how much you love it.” He said handing you the cup filled with hot chocolate, his voice becoming a soft mutter at the last part.

‘He still remembers my likes and dislikes.’ You thought as you smiled softly at him and took the cup, your hands brushing a little. Your cheeks immediately turn red as you tried to hide them, while Suguru thanked the gods that his red cheeks won’t be obvious because it’s winter.

I’d go back to December, turn around and make it all right

But you knew him. You were slightly relieved you still had some effects on him like before. How much you regretted leaving him like that. If only you could go back time and make things right.

You took a sip of your hot chocolate before speaking, “thanks for the hot chocolate, Suguru.”

Geto thought he’d just die right now. The way you said his name, it made him want to forget everything that happened and just hold you into his arms, never letting you go again. But he knew he couldn’t do that.

After some long moments of silence, you decided to break it and said, “how have you been, Suguru?”

“I’ve been- good.” He said with a pause in between. He was lying, but he didn’t want you to know his mental state ever since you had left. “What about you?”

You couldn’t repeat his answer for this question, because you knew it was far from the truth. You couldn’t quite recall the last time you slept peacefully. Maybe it was when you were in Suguru’s arms, safe and loved.

Staying up playing back myself leaving

Your mind replayed memories of that unfaithful night, as if trying to torture you for what you had done. It had started to hurt physically. How much you just wanted apologise and hold him into your arms. But you knew you had lost that right. Why? Because of your stupid insecurities.

You had been in a few relationships in the past apart from Geto. And you were always called out for every little thing you did. Whether it was from the way you ate, or the way you talked, they’d make sure to remind you that you weren’t enough and weird, until they all left you alone. This lead you to believe the same, that you were the problem.

That was until you met Suguru. He was everything you could ask in a man. He was charming, a true gentleman, kind and caring boyfriend who never failed to remind you how much you mean to him.

And I think about Summer, all the beautiful times

You often daydreamed about all your memories from your relationship, from sneaking out at night to late night car drives, from celebrating each other’s birthdays to forgetting plans you’d made with your other friends. Your relationship with him was something you read in books about.

You still remembered the day when you realised that he was the guy you were going to marry someday. You had overheard him talking to Gojo about you. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but when he mentioned your name, your ears had perked up. And the way be kept on talking about how amazing you were and how much he loved you, you knew he was the one for you.

Then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept right into my mind

But of course you had to ruin it all. The ‘what if’ thoughts came back to you. The thought of losing him because you weren’t good enough for him, scared you. You had told him about your past relationships, and he always reminded you that you are more than enough for him and he loves you with all of his heart.

Fuck your stupid negativity. You tried to believe him, you really did. But your mind wouldn’t let you. So it lead you to the one thing which you knew you were going to regret for the rest of your life. You let him go. And you hated yourself for it.

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

You still remembered the way his face had immediately fallen the moment you spoke those words. He had tried to reason with you, but you wouldn’t listen. And you had slammed the door shut on his face.

Geto didn’t stop bombarding your phone with countless texts and missed calls for days. But you didn’t reply to any of them. Until one day he stopped. Maybe he realised that he was just wasting time being after you. Maybe he realised that you were the problem after all.

It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

Wishing I’d realised what I had when you were mine

You thought you had did the right thing but turns out, you didn’t. You had only made things worse for both of you. Because you know what they say, you only realise the value of something when its gone. And it turns out that you had loved him too much. You couldn’t let him go. Because you had realised that he was too precious for you to let go and you couldn’t survive without him.

So here you were, six months later, on his couch, drinking hot chocolate. You slowly came out of your thoughts and said the only thing which came into your mind, “I’m sorry.”

To say Geto was surprised was an understanding. He expected anything but an apology from you tonight. Blame him for being conscious and hurt. He didn’t say anything, giving the cue to continue.

“I’m so sorry, Suguru.” You started, trying your best not to sob, “I know this is probably the last thing you expect from me and won’t believe me but I mean it. I’m really sorry. I’m such a fucked up person, who always makes things worse, ruins perfectly going on lives of people, who always lives in self-doubts.”

“Y/N, I-”, Geto started to say something but you cut him off before he could say it.

“Please let me finish.” Geto nodded in response.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me so right

And how you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry

“I miss everything about you, about us. I miss how every morning you didn’t fail to wish me ‘good morning’, I miss how you never forgot to check up on me, I miss how you always found a way to make me feel special. I miss how you always held me close to you whenever I didn’t feel like myself. And most of all, I miss the way you used to love me.” You said, tears now falling uncontrollably from your eyes but you don’t care, determined to make things right.

I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t

So you continued, “thing is that I love you, Suguru Geto. And I love you too much to let you go. I made a stupid move by letting you go when all I wanted to do was hold you into my arms. And I hate myself for it. These past six months, I’ve been terrible. There’s not been a single day where I have not wished for myself to be somehow able to go back in time and make things right, stop myself from leaving. But I know I can’t.” You took a deep breath.

So if the chain is on your door I understand

“I know my actions are not something to be easily forgiven, but I promise to do anything to win your trust and love back. I’m willing to change. I’m willing to make things up with you. I swear that if you take me back again, I will love you right and never let you go. Because I have realised my life is nothing if you’re not in it. Please take me back, Suguru. I promise to prove myself worthy of your love.” You couldn’t speak anything after this, sobs continuously escaping your mouth.

Geto stood there, tears in his eyes as well, contemplating what to say. Your apology had caught him off guard, but he knew you had meant every word. He knew that his life was incomplete without you too.

But this is me swallowing my pride

You didn’t hear him speak for a good few minutes, so you take his silence as rejection. Of course he would reject you. You had hurt him, why would he want to get back with someone like you. You let out a shaky breath as a sigh, disappointment for you escaping through it as you stood up.

Standing in front of you saying I’m sorry for that night

You attempted to smile through your tears. If this was going to be the last time you see him, might as well say goodbye with a smile.

“I got your answer, Suguru. Thank you for giving me best moments of my life. Maybe I didn’t get to have you back, but at least I can live on with your memories. Maybe I-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as you felt a pair of all too familiar lips on yours, shutting you up.

It turns our freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

You widened your eyes from surprise but immediately shut them as you kissed back, your hands reaching to hug his neck, bringing him closer to you. Suguru wrapped his one arm around your waist and other made its way in your nape, holding you just like he always used to.

Both of you could taste salty tears as you kissed, but weren’t sure who’s they were. All that mattered in that moment was the two of you. You poured all of your love, apprehensions, bottled up feelings for him, regrets into this kiss. He kissed you with same passion. As if your lips were the only thing he needed to survive.

Few moments later, Geto pulled away, foreheads still attached to yours, as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, in these six months, you made me realise that the only thing which can complete me whole is you. Not getting to tell you these was tearing me apart. I thought I had lost you for good, but then you showed up at my door and all those feelings I had for you doubled. I love all of you, Y/N and I always will. And I’m willing to give us another chance, just promise me that you will talk to me next time you have those negative thoughts.”

Your heart melted hearing his words as you nodded, “I promise.”

Suguru ran his hand through your hair as he spoke again, “and I-I’ll need some time to completely forgive you. I hope you understand that. I’m just scared that you’ll leave me again.”

You quickly shook your head, “I mean it this time, Suguru. I’d never even dream of leaving you. I just got you back. And it’s okay. Take your time. I’m willing to wait for you, even if it is for an eternity.”

Suguru smiled at your words and pulled you into his chest as he swayed you slowly, holding you tightly close to him, and you finally felt complete again. You kissed his neck as you returned his gesture, silently promising him and yourself to never give up on him and let him go ever again.

I’d go back to December all the time

________________________________________

Ahhh I loved writing angst sm but it always breaks my heart if it doesn’t end with fluff. Anyways hope y’all liked this and if you want, you can send in request for JJK characters too!

(I might’ve gotten a little carried away at the end but i think it was worth it lmao)

[nanaminokanojo]

BAD NEWS (part 58)

-just when you thought you were over your humongous crush on your older brother’s best friend, geto suguru, you couldn’t have been more dead wrong, except satoru doesn’t like suguru for you because he knows his kind all too well: a huge ass playboy who breaks hearts like he changes socks. but you think, MAYBE you’ll be the exception…maybe not.

CHARACTERS: drummer!geto suguru x you/afab reader | gojo satoru | various jjk characters

GENRE: full-length smau + prose | band au | college au | stupid pining | aged-up characters | friends to lovers (?) | smut

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol, drugs | mentions of cheating, promiscuity, mild dubcon, etc. | god-awful pet names | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 58 next>>

A/N: Smutty things ahead, be warned. Panels 3 to 10 at the end. 😊

Red-bottoms in hand, you slung one arm over Mai's shoulder, both of you dissolving into giggles when you started dancing barefoot on the stone steps that led to your doorstep while her twin looked on in abject annoyance. It was mostly about Mai who insisted on coming out of the car to walk you to the door and you basically encouraging it. She didn't know what was worse, this or when you guys jumped into a loud discussion about your favorite pro footballers earlier during the ride.

"What's the code to the door, Y/N?" Maki asked you as she hoisted Mai over to her other side to split the two of you up.

"Code? Code..." You swayed dangerously towards the side of the elevated step by the door, and she was only able to pull you in time before you fell on the rose bushes. You laughed at how she rolled her eyes before stumbling towards the door, almost hitting your head against the hard wood. Still, you repeated the same word over and over again, thinking long and hard about what to punch on the glowing blue buttons.

"Well?"

"Ah!" you responded, raising your index finger up. "Toru...it's..." You swallowed hard, the action coming with a little hiccup that sent Mai into another round of giggles, also triggering you.

"His birthday?" Maki supplied for you and you nodded vigorously, about to raise your arms but you hit your shoe against the door, gasping as you checked for scuffs as if you could see straight.

Shaking her head, she punched the numbers into the keypad, successfully opening it. "Get inside. I'll help you to your room."

You waved your hands at her. "No, no...'m fine, Captain." You stepped in rather unsteadily.

"You sure?"

Again, you snickered at the way her brow arched but nodded nonetheless, doing a little dance as you said goodbye to Mai whom Makit dragged away to the car just as you were closing the door.

"Toru?" you called, but got no answer, swaying towards the stairs and haphazardly holding onto the banister whilst you still held onto your heels, careful not to drop them. One wobbly step at a time, you pulled your weight up, snickering when you nearly tripped. You did that halfway up and made it the rest of the way crawling on all fours.

You blindly made your way to the second room from the stairs, slowly and quietly pushing the door, or at least as quietly as you can in your drunken state. It's more like you pushed your way in, hand faltering several times on the knob. When you finally stumbled in, it was dark. You didn’t turn on the lights, you were not confident you can find the switch anyway, so you just started stripping your clothes off until you were just in the tiny, form-fitting dress you wore to the club, your heels dropping with loud thuds on the laminate floors.

You still had the mind to think about washing the makeup off of your face, marching towards the wall you knew your dresser was at, but you didn't see it there.

"Huh," you muttered under your breath, the effort you exerted trying to walk without falling making your head spin even more. There was no way you were making it anywhere else, so you opted for the bed which was closer, and finally fell into it.

You could have sworn you heard someone groan somewhere near you, but you couldn’t care less, giggling when you felt an irregular lump on where you had fallen. You nearly slipped off the bed, but somehow, you didn't, a warm, snug feeling engulfing you as you lay face down, comfortable on the spot you've chosen. You clung to that feeling of sleep starting to devour you, afraid that if you opened your eyes, your world would start spinning again so you screwed your eyes shut, and soon, you were dead to the world with nothing but the feeling of warm hands soothing your back.

Wait...hands?

The idea seemed ridiculous to you. You kept your eyes closed, thinking it was just the alcohol and that you were probably just imagining things. Very specific ones involving a man with beautiful, long, ebony hair and the way he smelled – smoky wind in a pine forest with hints of something akin to limes and sandalwood – along with that familiar warmth that reminded you of home and everything else familiar to you.

You were still too dizzy, but not without any coherent thoughts as you seemed to lack just moments ago. How long you've been trying to get sleep in the suddenly uncomfortable position you were in, you didn't know. But you were slowly realizing that something was amiss, making your heart thud heavily in your chest. You, however, couldn't pinpoint just what it was in your state of inebriation.

Just then, you felt the "bed" you were laying on shift, and you could have sworn you felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around your shoulder and waist, gently easing you to your back.

"Kitten?" came those deep mellow notes you'd know anywhere, and something seemed to click in your brain, the dress you were wearing suddenly feeling too tight as heat flared up all over your body. Ironically, you felt like shivering.

In the seconds that followed, the cogs in your brain moved and you realized you made a bed out of someone, and when you finally came to full awareness and opened your eyes, you were confronted by the face of your older brother's best friend, mere centimeters from yours, slowly breaking into that lopsided smile, faint dimples making themselves known as he looked down at you sleepily. The action enhanced his features even in the semi-darkness, hot-wiring your already addled brain.

You wanted to bolt right out of bed, but his steady amber gaze held you there, not to mention the alcohol in your system. “Su...suguru?” You chuckled, torn between thinking your seeing the real thing or some specter of your fantasies. But at that point, who cares?

You tilted your head to the side, flashing him a sultry smile even as his brows furrowed together. "Whatchu doin' here, sexy?" you slurred.

“I slept over,” he answered, grinning cheekily at you as he got rid of some stray hairs on your cheek, his cold fingers brushing over your skin. You inched towards his touch, humming in satisfaction. “What are you doing here, kitten?”

You did a little scoff or something close to it. “This is my room.”

“No, sweetheart, this is the guest room.” His voice sounded so velvety, making you shiver visibly.

“Well shit…” You chuckled as you closed your eyes, willing the nausea away. “Give me a sec.”

You felt Suguru move closer to you, your foreheads touching as he wrapped his arms tighter around you as he laid back down, guiding you to lie on your side. “I don’t mind.”

“Funnily enough, I don’t either.” You looked at him unsteadily, seemingly unable to focus as you blinked slowly, trying to make sense of what you were currently seeing. Without thinking, you placed a hand on his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his skin. And then you broke into a smile. "I can never seem to reach you..."

Suguru placed a hand over yours. "What do you mean? I've always been here," he whispered back. "You'll always have me, kitten. You know that."

You shook your head. "No..."

"No?"

"Not..." You breathed in, moving your fingers over the line of his nose, trying to be gentle, afraid that he will disappear. But when he didn't, you dared to touch his cupid's bow, tracing along it as you slowly released your breath a little at a time. "Not like this."

Suguru looked at you in confusion now."Not like what, hm?" At that, he started nuzzling you on the cheek until your lips were mere millimeters away. "Care to explain that?"

"Like this."

"Mhmm?" He brushed his nose against yours.

"This close..."

This can't be real, you thought, your heart sinking in your chest. In the slowness of your mind, you suddenly had so many things making themselves evident. You hated how even in your drunken moments, it was only Geto Suguru that you could think off; how your longing was conjuring images in your head so damn real, it made your yearning even stronger. You've wanted him for so long that your brain is making things up.

You sat up, easing his arms off you gently, but then, the look of disappointment on his face made you stop.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

"This whole thing – this...y-you, here, right now. This isn't right – You're not even real, why am I talking to you?"

He, too, sat up, his face inching closer towards you as if daring you to move farther from him, but you didn’t. "I am real, Y/N. I am in front of you."

You chuckled as you felt your resolve faltering, submitting to your daydreams and imagination, making you lose yourself enough to believe what this version of Suguru was telling you.

“I’m still drunk, right?”

Suguru snickered, nodding. “Pretty much.”

You leaned closer. “Good. At least I have an excuse.”

"Excuse for?"

Instead of an answer, you cupped his face as you rose to your knees, crashing your lips to his slightly parted ones, hoping and praying to every higher power that this was real, and not just happening inside your head.

**

How could you tell him he wasn't real? You weren't real. None of this was.

It's not real that you just strolled into the guest room Suguru happened to be in, drunk to your toes. It's not real that you just decided to make a bed out of him. It's not real, everything that you said to him. It's not –

Oh. But this felt real – the feeling of your skin against his, warm and flushed and so smooth under his calloused palms; your presence as you weighed down on him, hands firm at the sides of his head as you coveted him; the feel and taste of your plush lips, a cocktail of your lip gloss, alcohol and whatever you were made of, pressed against his, the air you were breathing one and the same.

This was real. It's happening. And he wanted it. Oh, how much he had longed for it...waited for it. Before he knew it, he was opening his mouth, fingers delving into your hair to hold you in place, returning every adamant movement of your lips, giving it back with his. It's been over a year since you left him with the taste of you lingering at the back of his mind and the tip of his tongue, thinking he will never have the pleasure of ever knowing it again. And yet there you were again, in his arms, him locked in yours, giving him what he's always wanted and filling that void that he tried so hard to fill when you went away without acknowledging matters between you.

"Suguru," you spoke against his mouth, almost begging, trapping him in a bewitching spell from which he never wanted to snap out of as if you were calling his very soul. He never thought his name ever sounded so good coming out of someone else's mouth, and yet you seemed to be giving it a whole new meaning.

Entranced and enchanted, he unconsciously took the initiative, recapturing your lips as he pulled you even closer to him. A nagging voice at the back of his head told him to stop, but it went unheard when you slid your tongue between his lips, the sound of your moaned out triumph rendering what's left of his capacity to reason useless. You took your fill of him, giggling when you found that piece of silver embedded on his tongue, reaching for it with yours.

With a whine, you anchored yourself on his shoulder, kneeling astride his lap and leveraging the tangle of sheets below you to push him backwards until he was lying against the pillows. You followed after him, in hot pursuit of his lips which momentarily detached from yours, eyes glazed and wild as you laughed quietly, the sound almost sounding like a purr.

Getting a bit of clarity, Suguru pushed himself up, steadying you by the waist to stop you from going even further. "Kitten," he shook his head, "Y/N, you're drunk – mmmff –!"

Huge mistake as you were having none of it, your lips immediately finding his like a homing missile that's got its target locked. And if that didn't make a hot mess out of him, you deliberately ground your hips against his, the fabric of his sweats and your underwear providing much of the friction both of you yearned for yet not enough. You gasped as the apex of your thighs rubbed precisely over his hardening length, but it didn't even take you a second to do it again, unable to get enough.

"Kitten, don't – holy shit, baby..."

"Want you," you mumbled against his lips as you continued to grind against him, your hand reaching underneath you as you grabbed fistfuls of his gray sweats, clawing at the fabric and along the skin of his iliac furrow, making him hiss as you managed to pull it off of him. He held onto your wrist in an attempt to stop you again, but to no avail.

Suguru knew you had a one-track mind, and like Satoru, if you wanted something, come hell or high water, you will get it. The means didn't matter. You were both such brats growing up that he knew as much. And it seems it didn't matter what state of mind you were in either. You sought and you took without thinking twice, the same way you saw your goals on the field and executed them. This time he was the field, and you were going to conquer him regardless.

You bent down, kissing him senseless again, your hand firm on his nape while the other one guided his hand under your dress. You smirked into the kiss, nipping at his lower lip before letting go and saying, "Take it off."

"A-are you –"

"Yes."

You didn't have to tell him twice. In the next second, your pesky underwear was out of the way and your bare, wetness was pressed down midway his cock, pinning it flat against his stomach. Your grip on his shirt was tight as you started to rock back and forth over his length, setting your rhythm.

Again, as much as he thought it wasn't really happening, that his mind was probably trapped in a perpetual oasis of dreams that were solely made of you, Suguru was much too awake to deny it, all his nerves firing within him as the realization dawned that you were there. Crazy drunk. On top of him. Chasing your pleasure and taking you with him.

His hands were all over you, not knowing where to touch until he finally found purchase on your ass, kneading your flesh as he directed your movements closer to his tip until it was repeatedly catching into your slick folds while also simultaneously stimulating your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your snagged breaths and airy moans made him want to just topple you into the bed and take over you, but Suguru kept his restraint, merely satisfying himself with the view of you dominating him, your lips parted as you threw your head back in pleasure.

This was about you, and he wouldn't have it any other way. If you wanted him, you can have him, use him to your heart's content even if it meant you will forget when you wake up.

Do you even realize what you were doing? He wondered at that, feeling a twinge on his chest at the thought that you'll slip from his grasp again when daylight comes.

No, he thought. Not this time.

He felt your movements grow erratic, your nails scratching at the skin of his chiseled abdomen.

"Fuck, baby, right there," he encouraged you, helping your movements as you evidently grew tired chasing your high. His fingers will bruise your hips with how tight he was gripping you, intensifying the heat between where you were touching until you were spasming and letting out high-pitched moans, your release fueling your movements as it dripped onto him.

"Sugu...ru..." you called his name, mostly broken parts of it as he let you ride your high, eventually leading to his own undoing.

"K-kitten – fuck!" he let out along with his stuttering breaths when he, too, came hard, staining his stomach and the inner side of your thighs.

He breathed deeply, sweat matting his skin. He let out a quiet chuckle as he watched you listing towards the side, all spent and succumbing to the exhaustion, coupled with the alcohol still in your system.

Before you could fall, Suguru got up, gently laying you down on the bed before removing his shirt and silently making his way to the bathroom, suddenly reminded that Satoru was just at the end of the hallway.

He's fucked, he knew that, but he couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched you squirm and groan in your sleep while he cleaned you up and changed your clothes, patiently removing your makeup even when you swatted at his hands irritably.

After all that, he carried you back to your room, making sure you were comfortable, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead, the act seemingly chaste and out of place after all that you two have done.

He sighed, much too awake to get back to sleep, his mind on the consequences of the night's events, but he couldn't care less, not even at the thought that Satoru might hate him.

Because Geto Suguru may be damned to the deepest pits of hell, but as long as he has you, he'll gladly suffer in the flames for it.

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© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240605]

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[sophswritingthings]

hi love!! i was wondering if i could put in a request for a hazel callahan fic where reader is chronically ill and is in a bad flare up so she hasn’t been to school in a few days so hazel comes over to take care of her and there’s just lots of fluff and cuddling <333

pairing: hazel callahan x chronically ill!fem!reader

a/n: I went and did a little research, and I hope I do this justice babe <33 please enjoy!

summary: you’re going through a bad flare up; you haven’t been to school in a while. hazel, your girlfriend, shows up at your doorstep with essential oils and snacks.

word count: 1,047 words / 5,645 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hazel was standing at her locker, pulling books and a backpack out of the long blue storage unit of a closet.

you hadn’t been in school the last few days; she could assume why. she knew of your illness; it wasn’t a secret you kept. you weren’t embarrassed about it, by any means, it was part of what she loved about you so god damn much. your confidence, your positivity.. they were things she didn’t have all the time. she admired you. as both a partner and a friend.

she practically slammed her locker shut, turning away with her backpack hanging on by one strap on her shoulder. she headed outside the school, the frosty wind hitting her face. she sighed, sprinkles of snow dancing on her hair and eyebrows. you always loved the snow; shame you weren’t to see it with her.

an idea pricked her mind.. she wanted to see you so, so bad. but was it right to go to your house, if you weren’t feeling well? she'd texted you, but you hadn’t responded. not that she excepted you to!

yet she still desperately wanted to care for you and love on you as much as she could; if that would make you feel better. she would do anything to make that happen.

hazel headed back to her own house, slipping in the house just to brush right past her mom and go to her room. she tossed her backpack on her desk chair, flopping down on her bed. she stared at the celling for what felt like hours; to which it was really only, tops, maybe thirty minutes. 

her head was racing a million miles a minute. 

how much pain were you in? was she wasting time just sitting here, when she could be there with you, easing your pain?

she groaned, rubbing her heads over her eyes. she jumped up out of her bed, grabbing her backpack again. she piled lavender essential oils into the bag, turning to a basket full of snacks. your favorite snacks, might she add, that she kept in her room for when you came over.

she piled those into her bag, too, and slung it over her shoulder again. grabbing her phone, she shoved it into her hoodie. which she'd probably have to remove later anyways because she planned to give her hoodie to you.

she sped down the steps, right past her mom again—who attempted to talk to her, but she swiftly ignored her and headed right out the front door.

your house, was luckily, not far from hers. it was maybe a block down; so she just opted to walk rather than waste her cars gas. that shit was getting expensive, anyways.

once at your house, she gazed at your front door for a minute. plain white door with a black circle window; the glass stained with color which she knew was all you. 

she walked up to the door, knocking gently. 

when a woman who wasn’t you answered the door, she put on her best smile, in case this woman was a doctor or someone who had been checking on you—or worse—your mother.

“ah,” the woman tapped her fingers against the door. “your (y/n)’s girlfriend, right? hazel?”

“uh, yup! o-one and only,” she chuckled nervously, her grip tightening on her bag strap.

“breathe. I’m her older sister,” she laughed, moving aside to let hazel in. “she’s upstairs in her room. not feelin’ too well.”

“yeah… I assumed,” hazel sighed, thanking her and heading up the stairs. a door that was covered in swatches of paint read “(y/n)’s room” painted in glitter rainbows and stars. 

she smiled. she knocked with the back of her knuckles on the door, peering inside. the door wasn’t fully shut, cracked open a little—she assumed it was so people could check on you.

you were lying on your bed, your frame curled up against your pillows. your face was scrunched up in pain, your hair tied into a messy bun. your hands were straddling the pillow as if you were holding on for dear life. you had your headphones in, and couldn’t hear her.

“(y/n).. baby..?” she calls out to you, making your eyes open wide. you tug out your headphones, looking so relived to see hazel standing in your doorway. 

“hazel!” you smiled as bright as you could, your expression still pained yet very happy to see her.

“hi, honey,” she smiles back, slipping into your room. she closed the door behind her, dropping the bag beside your door. “not feelin’ the best, I guess?”

“y-yeah, not at all,” you flinch, your body squirming in pain, “took some pain meds.. did some exercise, I-it didn’t really help much.”

“would cuddles make you feel better?” she cocked her head a little, raising an eyebrow.

“much better,” you slowly open your arms, making a grabbing motion at hazel. 

she laughs at your gesture, tugging her black hoodie over her head. she’s left in a sports bra only; tossing the hoodie to you. you caught it with a smile, slipping it over your head.

she bent down to grab her back, dropping it beside the bed so you could reach it comfortably. she climbed in behind you, wrapping her arms tight around your waist. she held you close, pressing your back into her chest.

you plug your headphones back in, offering one to hazel. she does the same as you; pressing a kiss against your collarbone. she slowly and tenderly took your hand placing kisses from your hand to your arm. you were a beauty to be worshipped; and she would do just that for you.

“your too sweet, actually,” you chuckle, crunching on what looked to be a bag of pretzels. “how did I get so lucky, huh?”

she laughs back, pressing a soft kiss against your jaw. 

“how did you get so lucky?” she scoffs, “how did I get so lucky! i mean, look at you, and than look at me. I’m like a lowly peasant and your a fucking goddess.”

you snicker, “your not a peasant!” you pat her head. “if I’m a goddess.. well your a goddesses girlfriend, than. see? not a peasant.”

she nuzzled into your neck, closing her eyes in the warmth, “guess I am, huh…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[chelseeebe]

do you think i have forgotten (about you)

a part two to come pick me up.

summary: eddie finds himself out of jail and right back on your doorstep. running from his past while trying desperately to fix the mess he had left you in only leads to complicated situations.

a/n: so this is actually not what i had expected to post lmfao but similar to part one i reread this in my drafts and literally fell in love.. like it needed to be posted.

18+. smut, smoking, drug and alcohol use. mentions of jail and creepy therapists. angst.. sweet sweet angst. as before, this is stevexreader however this part is way more about eddie and r.

you can’t lie. the last few months had been pretty tough, on both you and steve. through no fault of his own though.

you were just.. unwell. perhaps you always had been and the process of seeing someone you regarded as your best friend beat the shit out of someone and subsequently be jailed for it had brought all those feelings up.

‎♡‧₊˚

not to mention the emotional toll of him dipping in and out of your life and the countless other reckless shit he’d pulled you into before.

currently things were stable, yours and steve’s relationship was good, you were going to work and succeeding in being mostly sober. a little help from a short stay in a psychiatric ward and some nice new pills had you feeling semi-okay again.

it had started not long after eddie was sentenced, you’d sat in the docks of the courtroom and watched the judge bang the gavel down as he was sentenced to twenty four months. it stung knowing that he’d gotten himself in this position because you’d dared to kiss your boyfriend in front of him.

nevertheless, a few short weeks after the horrid court date you’d suffered a complete breakdown at a party. throwing anything you could get your hands on, sobbing hysterically as steve tried his best to calm you. right in front of everybody, their gawping eyes prying as you were escorted out by the police who had then issued a caution and had recommended to the judge that you needed some sort of mental health intervention.

at the time it was humiliating. the worst part being that it felt like everyone around you was walking on eggshells, trying to coddle you and tell you that it was all okay. you’d known it wasn’t. maybe it could be, but for right then, no.

coming back into the apartment and the real world had been quite frankly, awful. missing the safety of the ward, you couldn’t hurt anyone in there.

steve had been your saviour through it all. making sure he was there for every visit with a great big smile on his. he was gentle, giving you your meds, making sure you were eating and he’d even found you a job, helping you apply, christ he’d even ran through a mock interview with you, putting on a deep voice and asking you silly questions.

and do you know what?

eventually things got back to some sense of normality. braving your first gathering, trembling as you walked through the door, terrified that everyone would hate you only to find that all anyone had really cared about was making sure you were well again.

and that lands us here, finally finishing a dragging shift and traipsing home to collapse into bed to wait for steve to get home.

except, nearing the front door you notice it’s cracked open slightly. the door handle looks busted and you’re ninety percent sure that either someone was currently in your apartment or had been in and ransacked it.

you push the door open with one finger, it freaks loudly as it opens slowly, startling the intruder who curses and drops whatever they were holding.

‘you have five seconds to get the fuck out,’ you warn, creeping from behind the door frame nervously.

there’s a figure stood in the middle of the room, back turned to you who very slowly puts his hands in the air, surrendering.

he turns to face you, a shit-eating grin on his face and you finally recognise the cocky face staring back at you.

‘eddie?!’

he breathes a sigh of relief, ‘holy shit i was startin’ to think you’d moved out and i’d just broken into some strangers apartment,’ cackling as his arms outstretch to hug you.

‘what the fuck- what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be in jail!’ in utter disbelief that he was stood before you, debating whether pinching yourself would wake you up from this strange dream.

‘i got out! duh,’ he grins, making his way towards you, arms still outstretched.

‘you.. you got out? what? you’re not supposed to be out for like another year.. i don’t- i’m not understanding,’ carefully wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you into a hug.

he felt stronger, sturdy as his arms wrap around your waist. the hug lasts for what feels like an eternity until you back to properly examine his face and to once again check that you weren’t hallucinating.

‘i can’t believe you’re actually here.. how are you? i’m sorry i’ve been.. busy,’ trying to recover over the last few months had meant that you’d sorta neglected eddie, his last letter still in the clutter on your desk somewhere.. unanswered.

unfortunately for him, you’d had a few more important things to focus on. like trying not to break down and keep your relationship with steve afloat.

‘i’m good, i’m always good.. what’ve you been up to? i missed your letters,’ it was a simple statement but you’d never truly comprehend just how much receiving anything from you had meant to him, how much it kept him going.

you let go of him fully, motioning for him to take a seat, ‘it’s a super long story..’ sighing as you jam the bursted door shut, steve would have to look at it on his day off.

‘well it’s a good thing i’ve got time,’ collapsing into the cushions, making himself right at home.

-

you and eddie are sat on the couch smoking when the key turns in the door and steve walks in, looking just as exhausted as he did when he left this morning. the tiny shadow of a smile that was on his face is dropped the second he see’s eddie, replaced with a state of pure confusion.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, dropping his bag onto the floor as eddie clambers off of the sofa to greet him.

steve’s face is a picture, eyebrows knitted together as eddie’s hand claps his back, ‘you’re supposed to be in prison?’

eddie pulls back, holding onto steves shoulder’s, ‘and you’re supposed to be happy to see me,’ faux-offended by steve’s confused stature.

‘no.. i am, what? why are you out?’

eddie shrugs him off, coming back to the couch, ‘ehh it’s a long story.. come.. sit, how was work, big boy?’ taking the spliff from your outstretched hand to offer to steve.

steve plonks himself down next to you, placing your legs over his thighs instead of the couch, ‘yeah.. it was alright, i’m sorry- why the fuck are you in my living room and not in federal prison?’ taking the burning joint from eddie’s fingers.

‘i got out,’ eddie offers back, the exact same thing he’d said to you. you had come to the conclusion that his departure from jail had perhaps not been entirely legal but it was way easier to brush it off rather than trying to probe him.

steve narrows his eye’s, obviously also not buying his bullshit but decides instead to smoke whatever had been handed to him, humming as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke.

‘i said that he could stay here.. just for a few days, if that’s okay?’ you ask, looking up at your boyfriend with hopeful eyes.

he pauses, contemplating if harbouring a, presumed, escaped convict was really a great idea, ‘uhh.. yeah i’m sure a few days is fine..’ he didn’t sound so sure himself.

‘thanks man,’ eddie nods, eyeing the door to his old bedroom.

the thing is, when eddie was convicted, his uncle had come to collect most of his stuff, taking it back to hawkins in his van. you’d thought he’d be locked up for at least two years so sending his things back to hawkins was the smartest idea. that meant when you guys moved out, you weren’t left to deal with his mountains of crap.

you catch him looking, feeling a tad guilty that he’d come back to nothing, ‘the bed’s still in there but.. it’s mostly storage now,’ scrunching your nose as you grimace.

‘that’s alright.. anything’s better than prison,’ he jokes, offering a saddened chuckle.

‘yeah.. exactly,’ not that you had much idea what prison was like, but from what eddie had told you, your living room floor would be an improvement.

the three of you spend a few hours right there on the couch, listening to eddie’s tales from jail, entangled with your stories of all the thing he’d missed. steve nudges you at some point, muttering something about bed which you agree with, rushing around to find eddie a spare blanket.

‘you’ll be okay in here?’ you ask, poised in the doorway.

‘yeah it’s great.. thank you,’ he smiles, sitting down on the edge of his old bed, peering around the now mostly empty room.

it felt a little suffocating if he was honest, the sheer amount of memories these blank four walls held. he swore he could hear echoes of your laugh from the times before, remembering the nights where you’d stumble back here and subsequently pass out in a heap on his bed. he shakes his head slightly, ridding himself of the thought before it got too deep.

‘okay, well.. goodnight,’ flashing him a tight-lipped smile before closing the door and making your way to your own room.

steve is stood facing the window, already stripped out of his clothes, ready for bed. he spins when he hears the door click shut, walking over to where you stood undressing with a grin, hands finding their place on your waist.

you hum at the feeling of his palms on your skin, ‘what’re you doing?’ shimmying out of your horrendous grey work trousers.

his lips softly press against the back of your neck and maybe it’s the weed or maybe it’s spite but he can’t help himself, fingers coming down to mess with the waistband of your panties. placing your hand over his to stop him from going any further.

‘we can’t,’ you hush, acutely aware that eddie was just a few doors down and would most certainly hear.

‘we can.. you’ll just have to be quiet,’ murmuring against the back of your neck, your hand doing absolutely nothing to really try and stop him. ‘can you do that for me?’

he travels further down, past the flimsy waistband, feeling his smirk widen against your skin as you sigh softly, sliding your hand onto his forearm, using it for leverage while his middle finger begins to circle your already sensitive clit.

your sex life hadn’t been what it was in the beginning, both of you busy with work and mental health crises that it was now more of a rarity to find the time. it’s not really lost on you as to why steve is so eager for it tonight but you couldn’t help but to feel at least a little turned on by this sudden bout of possessiveness.

your eyes flutter closed as he adds another finger to the equation, letting your body lean back against his bare chest, ‘my god,’ you moan softly, leaving crescent moon shapes indented in his skin.

‘hmm? is that good, baby?’ his plump, pink lips pressing gentle kisses to you neck and shoulders, teeth grazing the agile skin. he’s unforgiving and really not trying to be quiet at all.

it was definitely spite.

you can feel his erect cock against your ass, unknowingly writhing around, brushing up against him. his fingers hastily leave the safety of your now sodden underwear, manoeuvring your body to face him.

‘you’re such an asshole,’ you hush, gripping onto his arms for balance, walked backwards towards the bed.

a menacing smirk plastered on his face as he falls on top of you, knowing full well that eddie could definitely hear your soft pants and the way your lips echoed his name. stevestevesteve.

his fingers are brushing the hair from your face, making sure you were looking at him. it’s disgusting how attractive you find this. steve wasn’t usually one for such outward jealousy but you couldn’t say you hated it. legs wrapping around his torso after he had slipped your underwear off.

you don’t even attempt to conceal the whimper that ripples through your throat when he slides into your cunt. gripping onto his shoulders as the bed begins to creak, headboard knocking into the dry wall, unapologetic with his movements.

completely unashamed.

-

you’re eternally grateful that eddie doesn’t mention anything the next morning though he avoids steve’s eye and keeps his head low until he leaves for work. breathing an almost undetected sigh of relief when the door clicks shut.

the pair of spend most of the day lounging on the couch in front of the television, watching the overdue videos steve had neglected to return. the darkness eventually creeps up on you. the moon shining through the windows.

‘c’mon.. let’s go out,’ eddie nudges your knee with his, a devilish grin plastered across his face. he’d been bored shitless all day, as much as he enjoyed the mundane with you.. he wanted to go out. feel that rush through his veins as you got into something you shouldn’t.

‘i shouldn’t.. i’ve been doing good lately, it’s.. i can’t,’ sinking further into the sofa. you wanted to go out, really. but you and eddie going out alone together was a recipe for disaster.

‘and that’s why you deserve a treat.. c’mon, i know you want to,’ egging you on, now poking your knee with his finger, his other hand gripping onto the warm beer can.

you ponder for a second, pursing your lips as you weigh up the pros and cons. you don’t have to get wasted.. you could go out with eddie and be back before steve got home from work. yeah. you could do that.

‘where?’

eddie’s smile widens, he’d anticipate a hell of a lot more nagging and pleading than this, ‘fucking.. anywhere, the night is young and so are we.’

‘okay.. but, we’re having a normal night.. nothing crazy and i wanna be back here before steve is, got it?’ raising your eyebrows as you down the last sliver of wine.

‘absolutely.. whatever you want,’ eddie chuckles, slapping his knees as he stands from the couch, ‘c’mon.. get dressed.’

you stare up at him for a moment before getting up from the couch and slinking into yours and steve’s room. he wouldn’t be happy about this but if you were home and in bed before he was, he wouldn’t have much to complain about and if he did, he’d get over it.

and hey, maybe you could prove to him that you were okay now. that you were ready and able to handle things on your own.

-

everyone goes absolutely crazy when eddie walks in, almost as if he’d been locked up for a year. there are a few unhappy murmurs, worried onlookers who had been there that night.

but he doesn’t seem to care, shaking hands and chatting to everyone that came up to him. people handing him cups of mystery liquor which eventually got passed onto you.

you’re perched next to him on the couch, drinking the vile tasting liquid without a second thought. the odd person still coming up to him in shock, asking all sorts about what life was like on the inside.

and he just laughs and tell them the same generic story about earning his way and how eventually people listened to him. you doubt much of it is actually true but let him continue nonetheless. what did you know about prison?

bedsides, you’d seen the scars that now littered his knuckles and forearms. how his muscles had grown and the way his nose now bent slightly to the left. he must’ve done something to earn them.

your head is pretty fuzzy the first time the plate full of mystery white powder is passed around. respectfully declining and mumbling about sticking to drink.

but by the second time it comes your way, you’re glancing down at the porcelain with eager eyes. one tiny line couldn’t hurt, right? you still had plenty of time to sober up and get home before steve.

so you pick up the rolled up note, eddie’s eyes watching like a hawk, ‘hey.. you sure?’ his own jaw clenching from his previous line.

‘it’s fine,’ you nod reassuringly, holding one nostril and sniffing the pre-cut line, sniffing harshly. you’d forgotten how much it stung, making your eyes water as you pass the plate onwards.

you sit back into the couch, watching as the conversation roars around you. waiting for that sweet, sweet feeling when it finally hit.

and oh boy, does it.

one second you’re sat on the couch and the next you’re pulling eddie up onto his feet, trying to make him dance along to the pounding music with you. it all sounded so good. your body warm and loose. heart pounding in your chest as the beat vibrates through your limbs.

you’re not sure how long you’re dancing for, keeping your eyes closed while other people start getting up to join you.

not even questioning the second line when it re-emerges. still slowly sipping on what was now a dark liquor, bitter in taste, burning your throat on the way down.

eddie’s hand gingerly touches your waist causing you to pull your eyes to him. he’s dancing too, clutching onto the beer bottle, pupils dilated as they cling to you. cling to your body. moving in time with his.

everything’s a little blurry but you keep your eyes steady on eddie, smiling as the music distorts in your ears. it sounded robotic and weird but still had you wiggling your hips in time with the odd beat.

his other hand meets your waist, more confidently this time, pulling your body towards his. you think nothing of it, focussed on moving in time to the music.

eddie’s hand moves up to cup your cheek, the party bleating on around you as he tips your chin up towards his. a soft smile on his face as your eyes meet his fully.

the next few seconds happen so quickly that you’re not even sure if it actually happened.

his lips crash against yours, pressing himself to your chest, hand clinging to your cheek. he’s desperate with it, hungry and insatiable.

the magic dust you’d just inhaled must have softened your inhibitions because you’re kissing him back. palm pressed against his chest, fingers curling into his t-shirt.

until you finally realise exactly what you’re doing.

pulling yourself away from him, stumbling backwards as you blink up at him. had you actually just kissed him? no, why the fuck had he kissed you?

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ you exclaim, mind still hazy under the influence of whatever narcotics they were passing around.

your stomach twists. steve was probably sat at home waiting for you to get back, worried sick about where you’d gone. all the while you’re kissing his best friend at a party he had no idea was happening. it makes your stomach twist, guilt coursing through your chest.

you back away from eddie, tripping over another party goers outstretched legs as you go. head pounding, hands tingling. everything surrounding you had become a massive blur of flashing lights and distorted faces.

‘fuck.. wait!’ eddie calls out from the living room but you’re already gone, pushing past the gaggle of people in the hallway as you fumble for the doorknob.

the cold air hitting you the second the door is open, you hadn’t brought a jacket. or had you? you can’t really remember.

there are people strewn across the front yard, watching as you stumble down the path, fumbling for your phone in you pocket. the letters all jumble into one as you click through searching for steve's contact. slamming the green button the second you recognise the slight curve of the s.

he answers on the first ring, ‘hello? where are you?’ you’d missed the tens of missed calls from his number.

‘i’m.. i don’t know,’ sobbing into the receiver as one of the onlookers from the party approaches you, ‘where are we?’

from what you can make out, it’s a young girl, she looks worried as she takes the phone from your hand and places it to her ear, telling steve whatever street you were on. her spare hand reaches out to rub your back, keeping you close to her body as steve fucking sprints from your apartment to the address.

eddie makes absolutely zero attempts to try and find you, assuming that you’d already run off home. fuck it, he was out now. might as well prolong the inevitable argument with steve for as long as possible.

when steve arrives, he’s practically frantic, taking you from the kind girl as he leads you off home. his arm keeping your body held upright as you wail the entire way home.

‘steve..’ you sniffle, being guided into the empty apartment, ‘we kissed- eddie kissed me.. i didn’t mean to, i promise,’ clinging onto his neck as you’re lead into your bedroom.

he’s weirdly silent, placing you gently onto the bed, taking off your shoes before sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

‘have you taken anything?’ he questions, choosing to ignore your confession, for his own sanity mostly.

you nod into the pillow, sprawled out on the mattress as the room spins around you. it’s dizzying, and not just the room spinning but the fact that steve was still so gentle even after your admission.

‘what? what d’you take?’

‘i don’t know.. coke i think.’

he nods, swallowing the growing fury in his throat, ‘i’ll get you some water, try and sleep yeah?’

he goes to get up but you’re already grabbing onto his forearm, keeping him firmly on the bed, ‘don’t go.. please,’ your voice hoarse from the party.

god, you thought. you sound utterly pitiful, ashamed that even after all he had done for you, you couldn’t hold your shit together on your own and were still relying on steve.

‘okay,’ he whispers, kicking his shoes off and swinging his legs over and onto the bed, sitting up on the pillows rather than joining you properly.

his arm snakes around your back, lifting your body ever so slightly to slide his arm under, pulling you onto his warm chest. stubbly chin coming to rest atop of your head.

you nestle your head into his cotton shirt, ‘i love you,’ head rising with every breath he took, closing your eyes and attempting to fall asleep despite the fact it felt like there was something stabbing into the side of your brain.

-

steve’s sat, deadpanned on the couch when eddie attempts to creep back in. startled by his presence in the darkened room. by this time, the birds had begun to chirp as the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds.

‘shit man..’ eddie clutches his chest, ‘you scared me,’ he fumbles his way through the room, still pretty intoxicated, lips sore from chewing on them all night.

steve blinks, scrunching up his face as the other boy takes a seat next to him. eddie’s sure he knows. you had definitely told him. jesus christ, why wouldn’t you? he fucked up. again.

‘you can’t stay here anymore,’ steve states, stoic.

he wasn’t letting much on here. eddie almost wishes he’d just beat his ass and get it over with at least it’d be better than this creepy shit he had going on.

‘bro.. i’m sorry, i was fucked up.. i don’t know what the hell i was doing,’ he’s staring wide-eyed at steve who’s staring straight ahead, jaw tense, ‘shit, punch me if you want.. god knows i’d deserve it.’

‘i don’t care,’ steve presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, ‘you come back and you fuck everything up.. do you know how hard i’ve tried to help her.. all these meds and doctors appointments,’ steve’s shoulder’s slump, ‘fuck man, i even had to take her to this creepy ass therapist and try not to beat the shit out of him every time i dropped her off.. d’you know how hard that was?’ he sounds desperate now, dropping the weird, unsettling facade, turning to eddie with a genuine look of hurt upon his face.

eddie’s mouth opens to reply, but he has nothing to say. hasn’t a clue how to answer that because he didn’t know. yeah, you’d told him about it and how steve hadn’t left your side throughout it all but he had no idea that this was how steve had felt.

‘no,’ steve scoffs, ‘no you don’t know.. because you weren’t there,’ he sighs before continuing, ‘you didn’t have to watch the love of your life be dragged away because some judge had deemed her crazy. you weren’t there week in, week out in that hospital.. helpless.’

steve wouldn’t ever think of you as a burden but fuck, he needed to tell literally anyone the shit he had bottled up and eddie was now the (un)willing participant to catch the brunt of his frustration.

eddie swallows, staring out into the dark room, ‘i didn’t know.. i’m sorry,’ he’s scrambling now, trying to think of something, anything to say that could help, but he can’t. in steve’s eyes, he’s the one who continually seems to ruin shit for you. ruin you.

‘so no, i don’t want to hit you because you kissed my girlfriend but i do want to fucking kill you for coming in here and messing her up all over again,’ steve spits, his words like venom as they hit eddie square in the face.

any traces of intoxication had been pummelled from his body, head beginning to pound from the impending hangover, chest heavy under the weight of steve’s words.

his eyes squeeze shut. he was a fuck up and he knew it. he wasn’t sure why he’d even done it. you just looked so pretty and blissful and.. and you’d smiled at him the way you used to and he’d thought that maybe that had meant something. the few seconds that you’d kissed him back had felt like euphoria, for the first time in so long everything felt right again.

steve interrupts his train of self-pitying thought by standing from the couch, turning to walk away but pauses, ‘i’ll help you find somewhere tomorrow.. maybe nance n’ all will let you stay,’ and even through all of this steve couldn’t help but be kind to the man.

that’s what hit eddie the hardest, that even though he had hurt his best friend.. he was still stood in front of him throwing him a line and offering a sense of patience and understanding that eddie hadn’t felt in far too long.

he watches in silence as steve slinks off to your shared bedroom, head hanging low in utter shame. he’d never admit aloud, and especially not to steve, but the thought of you was the one thing getting him through his sentence.

the first few months were pretty rocky, having to prove himself time and time again, resulting in a multitude of different injuries but at the end of the day, he’d climb into his bunk and re-read the letters you’d sent. thumbing the pages until they were yellowed and worn. the mere thought of you still thinking about him was enough to make him get out of bed each morning.

he peers down at his scarred hands, tracing over the glistening white indentations. they all told their own individual story, the big one that ran across the large part of his hand was the worst after being slashed with a makeshift shiv during a fight. he was quite lucky really, his hand had taken the majority of the damage and had meant he wasn’t left to bleed out on the floor.

so he’d gotten stitches, kept his mouth shut and things had started to change. and yet still, every night he’d go to bed thinking of your face, telling himself that it wasn’t long to go.

you were his saving grace. the only thing that had stopped him slipping into darkness. he’d thought about it plenty, hurting himself or one of the douchebag inmates he shared the small space with. at least that way he’d get moved into solitary, maybe he’d even prove himself to the other guys.

-

you keep quiet when steve comes into your bedroom, unsure of whether to let him know you had practically heard their entire conversation. the mattress dips when he gets into bed, exhaling softly and making sure the blanket is covering both of you.

he sits in silence for a moment, you can feel his eyes burning into your face before he eventually settles in and lies back on the pillow.

‘are you mad at me?’ you squeak, gazing at him from tired eyes.

your voice startles him, so sure that you were still asleep but he answers quickly, ‘no, never,’ turning on his side to face you, inches from your face. it felt so intimate like this, vulnerable.

‘i heard what you said.. i’m sorry for..’ your bottom lip wobbles and you try hard to blink away the brimming tears, ‘for putting you through that.’

he’s immediately comforting you, placing a warm hand on your sodden cheek, ‘you’re okay.. it’s okay, you didn’t do anything,’ steve’s gut twisted, he hadn’t meant for you to hear any of it and the thought of you feeling guilty for eddie’s sake pricked at his heart.

you nod, not completely believing his words but for the sake of not causing a problem so early in the morning, deciding to just accept it. no matter how much it had been parroted to you, there was no accepting that none of this was your fault.

‘it’s just the way your brain is wired,’ dr. foster had said during one of your sessions, ‘but i’m here to make it all better,’ his eyes were narrowed, carefully watching you from his leather chair.

the memory alone makes you shudder, he’d been all for this authentic, organic approach.. hosting the sessions in his home and perhaps at times, becoming a little too familiar. his hand patting your knee as you spoke, asking creepy questions about your relationship with steve and overstepping a shit ton of boundaries. he had these icy blue eyes that lingered on yours for too long, there was something deeply unsettling about the way they narrowed when steve was mentioned. the utter anger they held when you brought up eddie. oh no, he really didn’t like eddie.

he’d been the one to suggest that you slow down with the letters to eddie, telling you that focusing on recovery was more important. it had worked in his favour anyway, the letters becoming the least of your concerns as you navigated recovery.

nonetheless, he didn’t last long. you were still in that mellow adjustment period, getting used to the meds when steve had informed you that dr. foster was no longer going to be your therapist. something about a conflict of schedules but you weren’t sure how true that really was.

-

it had been a few weeks since you’d last seen eddie, unsure of where he was or what trouble he’d gotten himself into. maybe even a minuscule part of you was hoping that he’d got himself arrested, at least that way you’d know he was safe inside and not wrecked in a ditch somewhere.

for the most part, you’d managed to put him to the back of your mind. it was only when things got quiet did you worry about him. deep down, you knew it was for the best. you couldn’t be around him without that niggling voice in the back of your head creeping back up. there was too much history there.

and steve had been so wonderful. you’re not sure you’d ever felt love like this. so transparent and pure, so void of expectations that he could see you at your worst and still be just as content to love you.

it all makes your heart ache, were you enough for steve even when you were like this? he had bore witness to the most horrific times of your life and yet, he’d be there everyday with a smile on his face and an open heart prepared for whatever that day may bring.

he’d taken the day off of work to purely spend it with you. granted, you’d only wanted to sit on the couch and watch a bunch of terrible movies with him but it was good enough. you’re not sure how long you’ve now been on this couch, but you knew it was late as the street lights glimmer that harsh orange through the blinds.

this film has you falling asleep, steve’s pick, obviously. you’d slid down the couch to rest your head on his lap, eyelids weighing heavy as sleep threatens to take over.

until you’re both startled by the incessant banging on the door, fist pummelling into the already brittle wood. your head snaps upward towards steve, pouting at the rude awakening. who on earth could find the need to pound the door at this time?

‘you expectin’ anyone?’ steve asks curiously, sliding your head from his thigh, very cautiously getting off of the couch to answer the door.

‘no? robin, maybe?’ unless robin had turned into a rabid zombie, you were sure it probably wasn’t her on the other side.

steve peers through the peep hole, seemingly taken aback but what or whoever he sees on the other side, ‘shit..’ cursing under his breath as he slides the chain from the door, opening it just slightly.

‘what?’ petrified by his reaction, sitting up on the couch to prepare for the impending insanity on the other side.

‘jesus man.. what are you doing here?’ he’s pushed aside as what looks like one eddie munson barges through the door, gasping for air and looking worse for wear.

he’s clutching his knees, doubled over as he tries to catch his breath, ‘i fucking.. ran the whole way here..’

if you’re being honest, he looks terrible. hair limp as it hangs around his face, clothes dirtied and you can’t see his face properly but you’re sure there’s a shiner of a bruise on his cheek.

‘what are you doing? what’s wrong?’ you fret, swinging your legs over the side of the couch as steve closes the door, bolting it up again in hopes that whatever eddie was running from was not following him.

he exhales before standing up straight, wiping the sweat from his forehead, ‘i need your help.. both of you,’ looking to steve who was stood with his hand on his hip, concerned about the inevitable mess eddie had just welcomed back into your lives.

‘why? where have you been?’

the last you’d heard from him, nancy had, very reluctantly, agreed to let him stay in their couch for a few days until he got himself sorted. but they’d woken up the next morning to find that he was no longer on said couch, not a trace of him left behind. he was completely unreachable, no phone, no idea where he had escaped off to and absolutely no one had seen or heard from him.

initially it had been a frenzy to try and find him until you collectively realised that he didn’t want to be found this time. and you had to mourn him all over again.

‘steve, d’you still know how to make fakes?’ completely ignoring your question, blinking at a puzzled steve.

your eyes flit to steve, unaware that he apparently had a history in counterfeit goods. perhaps a crucial bit of information he’d glossed over there.

‘not anymore.. what the fuck do you need that for?’

‘you know anyone that does? i’m desperate man.. i- i’ll pay,’ eddie pants, ‘name your price,’ chest heaving as he stands in the middle of your living room. he felt out of place here now, stuck out like a sore thumb.

steve ponders for a second, ‘uhh.. i dunno, maybe.. what’ve you done?’ sighing softly.

‘i need to leave the country.. i fucked up.. big time,’ eyes flitting to you with a certain sadness. even now, he didn’t want to disappoint you yet it seemed to be all he could do.

‘what’ve you done?’ you press, chewing on the inside of your cheek. mind running to the worst possibly conclusion. murder wasn’t out of the equation if you were honest.

eddie runs a dirtied, ringed hand over his face, ‘you know how i’m kinda s’posed to be in jail right now?’ it was already glaringly obvious that he hadn’t been released early.

‘yeah..’

‘well, i uh- i paid some guys off, they said they could get me out.. get me away from here,’ only now is he realising how fucking stupid that sounded.

‘eddie.. what?’ you exclaim, astonished by the sheer stupidity he constantly displayed. you’d thought that maybe he’d have learnt something from jail, that was the point of it, wasn’t it? learn from your mistakes and better yourself.

‘look, it doesn’t matter.. they’re asking for more money and i don’t have it,’ he says exasperated, ‘i need to disappear.. just for a little while, til they forget about it,’ eyes steady on you, as if to seek your approval.

you blink, where was he even planning to go? were you just never going to see him again?

‘i can’t get you outta the country but.. i might have a friend that can help,’ steve’s voice pipes up, tearing your eyes from eddie to look at him.

‘how?’ you exclaim, wondering what other things he had kept secret from you.

‘my friend’s out in california.. i think he’d put you up there,’ nodding at eddie, he probably didn’t deserve this kindness but steve couldn’t just leave him stranded. there was too much history to ever turn his back on his friend, even now, after everything, he was still holding his hand out for eddie.

‘that’d be.. fuck, that’d be.. good,’ eddie nods along, appreciative of anything you could do for him. turning to meet your gaze once more.

he knows this is it.

there wasn’t any coming back from this. no next time. it was california or it was death. and he sure as shit wasn’t a fan of the second option.

you think, deep down, that you know it too.

the likelihood of seeing him again is next to nothing. if he didn’t get himself killed, he’d certainly never be coming back here. this wasn’t for him, never had been really. well, maybe once upon a time when you looked at him without that sadness in your eye it had been.

when he thought back to it, he was sure the he knew you’d never loved him, he’d just been pretending for so long that his mind had played tricks on him, made him believe it. that’s why he’d lashed out that night, he’d convinced himself that you were in love with him. but you weren’t, and his heart had realised that fact quicker than his head had.

steve disappears into your bedroom in search of his phone, leaving you two alone in the living room. everything you want to say stays unsaid. heavy as it lingers between you. there’s not really much you can say in this moment that wouldn’t make things worse.

instead, you just nod.

as if to say that he could go. he could let you go.

eddie understands. but he’s not sure he ever will.

[maple-seed]

Thrown - Chapter 40: Foolish Mortal

Summary: You make a terrible mistake.

Word Count: 4,036

Author's Notes: :)

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

It was a routine market day. You took a moment to laugh to yourself that this was now what you considered to be routine. You woke up early and a god showed up on your doorstep to help you with your chores. Completely routine. He was sitting beside you now as Breidr pulled the wagon to town. Loki had his arm stretched across the back of the seat. He had been doing that lately. You would never breathe a word about that, and hoped he couldn't hear how your heart beat skipped every time.

And it did happen every time. It was ridiculous. A part of you wanted to say that you really should have gotten this under control by now. The rest of you knew it was a losing battle. You did your best to keep it from being obvious (you hoped), but your feelings were there and they weren't budging. If anything, they had grown stronger. Especially recently. You weren't sure how you would have made it through these past weeks without him. He had been there without you even needing to ask. You glanced over at him as he was admiring the scenery, and felt incredibly grateful that this was now your normal.

When you arrive at the market the two of you go to work without discussion. Loki knew how to set up the booth by now, though he was never above making a suggestion for improvement. You would roll your eyes and remind him that you have been doing this for years and he would insist that your business had increased dramatically with his input.

Khadija and Hani arrived. You told Hani about the time you tamed a lion (a mixed success, naturally). She asked to see Loki's magic and he knelt to show her something in his hands. This was your favorite part of the day. The magic was wonderful, of course, but what you really loved was watching his face. It was so open and earnest when he shared his talent with this eager audience. You loved the way they huddled together, like two conspirators. A small white bird flew away from them and you watched his smile spread in response to Hani's laughter. She bounded away back to her mother, Loki looked up and caught you staring. He often did. You tried not to react immediately, hoping that you wouldn't be given away. The way he kept his eyes on you as he stood, his face still soft, made your stomach flip. Once you felt it wouldn't be suspicious, you turned away to sort the cash box.

"Did you enjoy the show?" You could hear the smirk he was wearing as he leaned back against the counter. "I've seen better." You steeled yourself to look at him, then returned the smirk. He only chuckled.

The market was open and the day continued with your new normal. An alien prince sweet-talked customers into buying your dishes. He ate a sandwich you made for him. The two of you shared a packet of candied nuts.

After lunch you spotted a familiar face approaching your booth, Fredrik Larsen, an ever-friendly middle-aged man. You smiled as he reached the counter. "Hello, Mr. Larsen. How are you doing today?" He grimaced. "I have been better, I'm afraid. I'm here to redeem myself." You raised your eyebrows. "Oh?" "Yes." He was looking over the items in front of him. "This morning at breakfast, fool that I am, I manage to knock over Anja's favorite vase." He looked up at you over his glasses. "One of yours, you know it? It was blue, with speckles?" You slowly nodded while trying to recall. "Yes, I think I remember." "Well, it is no more." He sighed. "She forgives me, of course, but I would like to bring home a replacement." "And maybe some flowers to go in it?" You grinned. He chuckled and tapped his nose. "Clever girl. Precisely."

You helped him select a vase that was judged to be similar enough to the one that was broken and began wrapping it, with a little extra padding just in case. He peered at you over his glasses again with a wry smile. "Terna, aren't you married yet?" You laughed. "No sir, not me." He heaved a disappointed sigh. "I'll never understand the men in this town." He pointed a finger at you. "But someone has stolen your heart, surely?" You laughed again, shaking your head. "No, not yet." From the corner of your eye you saw Loki's head snap in your direction. "Ah, well," he idly scratched his jaw with a shrug, "the men in this town... you may be better off." "That's how I see it." You gave him a wink as you handed over the vase. "Give my love to Anja. I hope the rest of your day goes well." "It's much improved already." He smiled and waved as he left.

You turned around to see Loki watching you with his arms crossed, wearing a slightly amused expression. There was a glint in his eye that worried you. You couldn't help but feel it's the sort of look a fox might give a cornered rabbit. "What?" He narrowed his eyes, but his smile remained. "You lied to that man." You frowned. "No I didn't. I do hope his day goes well." He rolled his eyes. "Not that. Before." There was a pause while you tried to recall the conversation you just had. "You told him no one had stolen your heart." Ice ran through your veins, your eyes wide. "What? No. That's not...." He grinned. "Oh, darling, surely you aren't going to attempt a second lie to cover the first?" "I-" You started, then stopped. It was too late. There was no way to salvage this now. You pressed your lips together and turned away from him, busying yourself by straightening items on the counter. "Forget about it." He laughed, and you heard him cross behind you to stand by your side. "Come now, we're friends, aren't we? Why would you keep this from me?" "I don't want to talk about it." You turned away from him again. He moved to your other side. "You must tell me who it is." "No." You said flatly. "Very well."

He turned around and called out to the booth next door. "Khadija! Who is Terna in love with?" You frantically spun around and clapped your hand over his mouth. "Loki!" You felt him grinning beneath your palm. For her part, Khadija laughed and gave a smile that was a little too knowing for your comfort. "I can't say that I know." Hani was beside herself with giggles. Loki removed your hand and turned, looking at other stalls. "Hmm. Who else might we ask?" "No!" You hissed, tugging his arm. "Stop!" "Darling, I'm just trying to get to the bottom of this. I do love a mystery." You sighed in frustration. "Come on. Not here at the market. You're going to start rumors about me." His eyebrows raised. "Oh, so the topic is open for discussion elsewhere?" You winced. There was no choice but to step into the grave you had dug. "Yes. Fine. Just no more talk here with half the town around." "You have my word." His smile was victorious. You settled into defeat.

A weight rested in your chest as you went about your business. How could you have been so careless? You were so conscientious when you were talking to Loki. You were very aware of topics to avoid and you were sure to word things around the truth. The failing, of course, was that you hadn't been talking to Loki. You cringed, replaying the moment again in your mind. It was so obvious in hindsight. You should have paid more attention. You should have responded differently when Loki brought it up. A hundred solutions came to mind now.

Nevermind it. It's over now. Nothing to be done. You glanced at Loki, he was helping someone choose a mug. You didn't want to lose this. How would you get by without him now? Maybe, maybe he wouldn't leave. Maybe he would just mercilessly mock you for it. Maybe it would even be fun for him. You could deal with that. Something in you doubted that's how this would play out. You had a little time, at least. You knew he would keep his word, he wouldn't bring it up again at the market. Maybe if you were lucky he wouldn't mention it again today. But he wouldn't forget it. He would ask about it soon. You tried to carry on and enjoy the time with him that you had, but a dark cloud settled over your heart and hung there for the rest of the day.

****

No good could come of it, this he knew. Still, he had to know who it was. Something inside him drove incessantly forward after the idea. Outwardly, he performed as he would on any other day at the market. He laughed with you and helped as needed. Inwardly, he was tied in knots. Who had stolen your heart? Did he know them? Were they worthy of your attention? Almost certainly not. It was hard to imagine a mortal that could be. Then again, it might not be a mortal at all. You were thoroughly embedded in the community of New Asgard, any number of Æsir might have caught your eye. None immediately came to mind as someone you mentioned more than others, which led him back to the local humans. His mind drifted to the man behind the counter at the cafe. You never mentioned him either, but he stood out in Loki's mind as someone with clear intentions toward you.

He wondered how this had slipped past him. How could such a significant part of your life have gone unnoticed? There should have been some clue. Perhaps there had been. Perhaps he only saw what he wanted to.

As promised, he did not prod you any further at the market. After the lie and its revelation you weren't quite yourself, which brought him to another train of thought. Why wouldn't you tell him who it was? Was it something you were ashamed of? Was it someone you felt he wouldn't approve? And if you were to name this person, what then? What would change? He certainly couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't announce his feelings and ask you to forget yours. He couldn't take that away from you. You deserved this sort of happiness, and he wished it for you. Knowing who it was wouldn't change anything. Perhaps he just needed a target at which to direct his envy.

An alarming thought occurred to him: perhaps you wouldn't tell him who it was because you were aware of his feelings, and feared he would retaliate against your lover. This put a lump in his throat and he prayed to the Norns that it wasn't the case. The only thing he could currently imagine as worse than someone else holding your heart is the thought that you knew he wanted to hold it instead. Humiliation atop devastation. Perhaps your assumption of his reaction wouldn't be wrong. He found it difficult to imagine himself being friendly with the one who owned your affections. It was petty, he knew, but he doubted he could change that part of himself.

He briefly cursed himself for not telling you sooner how he felt. Perhaps all of this misery could have been avoided. He soon shook the thought away. It likely wouldn't have changed anything. This had progressed to the point where the truth was that this person had stolen your heart. This likely began long before he had even recognized the stirrings of his own feelings. Perhaps before he even met you. It was better he hadn't said anything. There was a chance he could keep your friendship, try to be happy for you.

Still, he needed to know who it was.

**

The wagon was well outside of town, trundling along the road to your home. Loki had his arm stretched across the back of the seat and his feet were propped on the dashboard. For all appearances he was casually relaxed, though his insides were wound tight. You appeared similarly calm, if slightly glum.

He examined his fingers and kept his tone light. "So, about this thief of your heart..." You groaned and slumped forward. "Loki, can't you let it go? Is it really that important?" "I can think of few things more important." He stated plainly. "I would think a god would have more serious things to worry about than mortals' love lives." He smirked. "I respect your ploy but it won't work." He gestured to the open landscape. "We're no longer at the market. Tell me who it is." You shook your head. "No, thank you." "Is it that boy at the cafe?" You looked at him quizzically. "Who?" "At the cafe, the boy behind the counter." Your brow creased with thought. "Johan?" "I suppose that could be his name." You laughed. "Why would it be him?" "He is clearly carrying a torch for you." You chuckled again. "I think you're mistaken." "I am certain I'm not." You shook your head. "It's not Johan."

It was true. Loki felt a sense of relief but still frowned. That had been his most likely suspect. "Lukas, then? From the woodworking stall?" "It's not Lukas." He thought for a moment, then feigned a scandalized gasp. "It's not Khadija, is it? She's married!" You rolled your eyes. "You know it's not Khadija." He shrugged. "Infidelity seemed a likely reason why you might be so guarded about the subject." "I just don't see how it's any of your business." He narrowed his eyes. "That was a lie." You huffed and hunched forward in your seat. "Very well. Next candidate...."

As the horse drew the wagon onward Loki offered the name of every human he could think of, each met with an honest denial from you. He had exhausted his list of mortals just as the farm came into view, and had named most of the Æsir as well by the time he had helped you unharness Breidr.

"Perhaps Sven?" He stroked Breidr's neck, leaning forward to speak to the horse. "What say you? Sven is a handsome enough fellow, isn't he?" The horse seemed entirely disinterested in the conversation, plodding forward into the field to graze. Loki followed you as you carried the equipment into the stable. "Is it Thor?" "Yes, it's Thor." You said flatly as you stepped into the tack room.

He knew it was a lie, of course, but that didn't stop his stomach from dropping like a stone when he heard it. The thought that you were in love with his golden brother was more than he could bear. It wasn't true. Of course it wasn't true. He recovered quickly enough, painting on a smile by the time you exited the stable. "Hah. I know that even you couldn't have such poor taste." "Well I wouldn't be the first mortal to succumb to his charms, right?" "The poor girl wasn't well in the head, I'm sure." "I heard she was really smart. Didn't she-" He held up a finger. "You are trying to change the subject." You frowned and stomped across the grass to your cottage. "Could it be the Valkyrie?" "Do you think she'd have me?" You swooned wistfully as you stepped through your back door. "Ah, so I've found it." He closed the door with an air of triumph. You rolled your eyes. "It's not Val. Why are you pushing this so hard?" "Why does anyone seek an answer that eludes them? Why do your people probe the distant stars or the depths of the ocean?" "I'm not a galaxy or an ocean." You mumbled. You were shifting items around in the kitchen now, Loki couldn't determine why. "You are no less full of wonder." He said quietly, leaning forward on your table. He worried the frayed corner of a towel, and spoke louder as he addressed you. "I still don't understand why you wish to conceal this from me." "Because you don't need to know!" You muttered. He returned his attention to the towel, pulling a thread free from its neighbors. "Darling, this is getting a bit ridiculous. I would say you know me quite well by now. You know that I will get to the bottom of this. Why not end this frustration and simply tell me now? I will find the answer eventually."

He looked up at you and was taken aback. You had your arms braced on the counter, your head hung. Your eyes were closed and your face was tight. You looked miserable. Guilt washed over him. He straightened and started to tell you to forget the entire mess when your voice interrupted.

"It's you."

Loki froze. "What?"

"It's you, okay?" You lifted your head but didn't look at him. "I've got feelings for you that are more than friendly and I'm sorry and it doesn't matter. It's stupid and I've known it's stupid and it really doesn't have to change anything." Your eyes looked anywhere but his direction, wringing your hands. "But I understand if you're uncomfortable and you don't want to be friends anymore. I just... I was trying to keep it to myself. And I can keep it to myself. It doesn't have to mean anything." You closed your eyes and took a breath. "And I know, I know this is the part where you call me a 'foolish mortal' or something and make fun of me. And that's fine, really. I just... don't want anything to change."

Your rambling finally came to a stop, you were still and quiet. You looked small, with your arms folded over yourself, staring at your countertop. Loki stood and stared as his mind caught up with your words. It was him. The answer he would never have dared to hope for. The most impossible answer. Your heart belonged to him.

A weightlessness filled him, and he breathed a laugh. Loki saw you wince, but it was no matter. Finally, this was a hurt that he could heal. He crossed the room to you and you tried to shrink away from him but he caught you, bringing his hands up to cup your face. His eyes were soft as you looked up at him at last.

He smiled a gentle smile and spoke with every tenderness. "Foolish mortal."

He waited as your expression eventually shifted from confusion to realization, then he finally brought his lips to yours. The urgency in your response, the way he felt your fists tangle in his shirt, removed any remnant of uncertainty and he pulled you closer into him. He couldn't be sure how much time had passed before he finally broke away from you. He didn't go far--he couldn't, you still clutched his shirt--and simply hovered close with his arms around you.

You took a moment to compose yourself before looking up at him. "I don't understand." "Really? I thought I had made myself clear. Allow me to try again..." With a smirk, he leaned in to kiss you again. You laughed and pushed him back. "No! I mean, me? I'm... I'm just...." He tutted, trailing a finger along your jaw. "Oh, my little bird. You are never just anything." "I'm human." "I can forgive that." He cut off your laugh with another kiss, and relished the feeling of your arms finding their way around his neck. You pulled yourself closer this time, and Loki wondered if he could ever be compelled to draw himself away from this. Perhaps he wouldn't have to. Your eager touch, your quiet breaths, these might be enough to sustain him for eternity. He was willing to try, but wasn't given the opportunity. You pulled back with a sigh, and lay your head against his shoulder while your hands snaked around his waist.

"This isn't a trick, right?" He might have been hurt, had it not been clear you weren't serious. He smiled. "Certainly not." "This is... a lot." He rested his head against yours. "It has been a taxing day." You scoffed. "Yeah, for me. I've been given the third degree." "How do you think it was for me? I was turning over every stone and coming up with nothing." You chuckled, then. "You ran through two towns' worth of people and never guessed yourself." "Oh, I would never have assumed I was worthy of your affections." You looked up at him, incredulous. "And Johan was?" He shook his head. "No, of course not, but the boy clearly has an interest. I thought it might be requited." "You're imagining things." "I will prove it." He pointed to the door. "Let us go down the cafe right now." You rolled your eyes. "No. I am hungry, though."

Rather than sit at the table, you brought the dishes to the couch and the two of you sat close while you ate. As soon as dinner was set aside his arms were around you again, he didn't see the sense in waiting. He had kept himself waiting so long already. You responded by maneuvering yourself until your legs were draped across his lap. What pleased him the most, perhaps, was how little felt different. Your hands found his and conversation carried on as it typically did. Everything had changed, certainly, but when he held you it felt like the most natural thing in the world. As if the two of you had done this every night for all your lives.

"Did you ever think I knew?" You looked up at him curiously. "Only today, for the most part. Though there were a few other occasions when I considered the way you avoided the topic of romance, and thought you might be doing so to spare my feelings." You nodded. "That week when you stopped talking to me, I was sure you had figured it out." Loki grimaced. "Yes, that was... a misguided attempt at quelling my own feelings." You did not look impressed. "That was stupid." "I did say it was misguided." "No, it was stupid." He chuckled. "I will concede the point."

You jumped when he suddenly gasped and gripped you tightly. "I've only just realized...." "What!?" He was smirking now. "The day we met." You narrowed your eyes. "Yes...?" "It's no wonder you were so flustered." You groaned. "Loki." "You must have been so overwhelmed, struck as you were by your desire for me." He held you firmly in his lap as you began squirming to get away. You muttered through gritted teeth. "You are the most irritating-" He was thrilled by your efforts to escape, grinning. "Poor little mortal. It's a wonder you stood upright in my presence. Your constitution is truly commendable." "I take it all back!" You were now wriggling and clawing for purchase on the couch. "I don't love you at all!" Loki stilled, his hands still holding you in place. You didn't seem to notice and continued your fruitless struggle. "Did you say you love me?" "No! Weren't you listening? I said-" He reached out to turn your face in his direction, when you saw his expression you stopped. Your faux-scowl gave way to a soft smile. You brought your hands up to cradle his face. "I thought we had covered this." He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes. "Not in so many words."

He sat with you like this for some time, heads bent together and speaking softly. A conversation of quiet promises and whispered devotions. The night grew late, and then later still. Both of you found that you didn't feel like parting, so it was decided that you wouldn't. Loki settled into your bed and you joined him, curling close against his side. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and as he began to drift off to sleep his mind wandered back to that first peaceful dream he had of you, all those months ago.

It did not compare.

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[paperbackribs]

werewolf steve, werebat eddie (ch3)

🐺🛌🦇🥺

It’s the quiet conviction that he’s in the wrong bed that wakes Eddie the next morning. The mattress too soft, the pillow too thick, and the boy next to him is an unwavering, giant red flag too. He sighs, hand under his cheek and contemplates the sleep-creased face of Steve Harrington next to little old Eddie Munson.

And he thought turning into a bat was going to be the only weird part of this weekend.

Steve snuffles, twitching his nose before falling back into a steady breathing rhythm again. And Eddie would like to deny how cute it is, would like to refuse to see how handsome Steve is, and would very much like to pinch the thin river of greed winding through him that would like the chance to have a fun, kind guy too. Someone who stirs Eddie, makes him laugh. But that’s not his fate in this lifetime.

He turns onto his back, staring directly above at the bubble pattern of the ceiling and determinedly focusing on more important matters.

Like the fact that he’s a bat now.

Apparently.

Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he wonders what the hell to do with that knowledge. It’s not going to get him anywhere; there’s no big corporation that wants to hire bat services. Last he heard, the ability to squeak wasn’t going to land him a record deal. Eddie huffs out a laugh, maybe he can get into acting. Take this gig out on the road.

No, just like having to watch a girl be brutally murdered in front of him and only barely scraping past that hack job Hawkins PD called an investigation, Eddie is going to have to take his lumps and keep moving.

He peers at the awful plaid wallpaper of the bedroom. Unsurprised by the banality of it, the hint of wasted money on lack of taste, but he is surprised by the pleasant abundance of greenery across the whole space. Potted plants crowd every available surface, some with trailing vines flowing over containers hanging from the ceiling. Even with the window closed, the room smells fresh, a clean sweetness to the air that matches the shiningly healthy and obviously well-cared for leaves, flowers and, he peers closer, herbs.

He wonders whether Steve dug these out of the woods with his big furry paws or if he’d bought them at the local nursery. Looking at the array of sizes and colourful patterns on the clay pots he figures that Steve shelled out a decent amount of money for his botanical set-up.

It twinges something in Eddie. Steve, just as taken in by the Upside Down, doomed to forever be a half-man and half-beast too, but sleeping peacefully within an oasis of his creation, sheltered by the tall walls of the Harrington home, with friends who love him, who don’t care about the monster within.

It feels unfair.

Because what is Eddie now? A monster? Maybe. A creature? Definitely. This new change in his life won’t make it any better, it won’t give him any advantages. It’s just one more thing he’s going to have to hide. To squirrel away like a tender thing lest the soft belly of it be exposed to the type of people who would hurt him.

Hurt, he knows, comes in many different forms. From a father believing your best value is in using small hands to boost a car, in the indifference of a mother leaving you on your uncle’s doorstep, on your best friend pushing you to the floor when you try to kiss him.

He looks over at the effortlessly handsome features of Steve, at his expensive and beautiful room, and thinks that whatever risk Steve carries, it is nothing like the one Eddie would be exposed to if his new secret got out.

He spots a familiar animal on the cover of a book on the bedside table. Curiously, he picks it up, flicking his eyes over the types of bats in the world, their characteristics, advice on care, and other little random facts.

Steve stirs, smacking his lips his eyelashes flutter before his gaze opens to land on Eddie bent over the book. He’s under the blanket that Eddie lays over; his bat version must have crawled out of the hoodie at some point but remained on top of the bed. Last night had been a blur and he doesn’t remember much except panic followed by Steve’s warm hands.

“Hey,” Steve smiles sleepily, “You came back to us.”

Eddie grunts, “Yeah, not sure exactly how that happened, but small blessings and all that.” He scans the feeding behaviour header, noting that blood is indeed amongst fruit, insects, and nectar as their preferred diet. Pausing, he tastes his mouth like it’ll suddenly reveal an obvious craving for bloody flesh. Meeting only morning breath, he grimaces and continues reading.

Finally realising that Steve has been silent for an unusually long pause, he glances over only to be startled by the intent look in his eye as he regards Eddie. “Are you okay?” He asks quietly and Eddie bristles at the concern, resentment stirring that Steve gets to be the kind one. The guy who cares despite being similarly afflicted. Why can’t he be just as resentful and mean as Eddie?

“Well, it’s not a giant dog, but I suppose you should welcome me to the club.”

Steve purses his lips thoughtfully, “I’ll ignore the canine dig for now since I know you’re going through something. But I get it, you know? If you can talk to anyone about being suddenly faced with the oddity of waking up in a body that no longer feels like your own, it’s me.”

Eddie rolls his eyes down at the book, “Our life experiences are vastly different, Steve. I don’t think you could get where I’m coming from if you tried.”

“Maybe not all of it,” Steve admits carefully, sitting up so he and Eddie are on the same level, “But I can try. And it’s got to be better than holding it in. You’re a pretty verbal guy, Eddie. I figure’d you’d want to talk about this.”

“What’s that mean?” Eddie glares at him and Steve raises his palms, saying, “Just that you seem to like talking your thoughts out, and that I’m here, willing to listen if you want to get anything off your chest.”

“Yeah, well, you can keep that hairy chest to yourself,” Eddie mutters darkly, looking at a bat’s mouth held open, exposing sharp fangs from front to back like a deadly, serrated knife. He presses his tongue against his molars thoughtfully; he doesn’t remember there being a lot of sharp tools in his mouth.

“Right,” Steve huffs out a frustrated breath, “You’re obviously in a mood. But fair, you’re allowed to take a beat until you get your feet under you.”

“I’m allowed,” Eddie mocks under his breath.

Steve cocks his head, “Yeah, you’re allowed. Just like I was allowed to take a beat too, once I figured out that turning into a wolf wasn’t a hallucination or a mental breakdown.” Eddie ignores him and Steve says with frustration, “What’s your problem?”

As he does, Eddie’s eyes catch on a fun fact section, and he can’t help the grim laughter that escapes. Of course. Of fucking course. He hears the mounting irritation in Steve’s voice as he calls his name again and latches on to it, happy to smack back. “Did you know, Steve,” Eddie starts, meanness fuelling his smirk, only he has a feeling that the petty feeling is directed inwards. “That bats have the highest rate of homosexuality out of any mammal?”

Steve watches him warily, “Are you saying that the shift turned you gay? ‘Cause I’m not sure it works like that,” his lips tug up cautiously, “It didn’t for me, anyway.”

Eddie sees the invitation to share the joke in Steve’s expression and it fuels the bitterness, “Yeah, well, you being a straight dog isn’t going to surprise anyone.”

Invitation dropping accompanied by eyes narrowing, Steve says, “That’s fucking condescending.” Eddie sees the insult across his face and rolls his eyes, conviction spreading that Steve has never had to think about how he presents to the world for one fucking minute before being afflicted with their shared infection.

“All I’m saying is that the wolf stuff may have made you a bit weird, but you were never gay-boy-in-Hawkins weird to begin with. Let alone the shitty kid from the shitty family with parents who don’t give a fuck.”

Steve’s eyes harden and he sucks his breath between his teeth consideringly, “I’m not sure whether I should share with you how wrong you are or simply tell you to fuck off.”

Eddie stares back just as hard, “You can’t tell me that you were ever the weird guy, Mr Popular Jock. What? Did you get ostracised from the team when you wore the wrong lucky jock strap?”

Rolling his lips, Steve nods his head decisively, “Yeah, you know what? I am going to tell you to fuck off.” Any hint of warmth in his expression shutters away and Eddie blinks, not having realised how open Steve had been with him even while they bickered. Steve continues, voice flat and unfriendly, “You know what your problem is, Eddie?”

“What?” He tries to sneer but the feeling of being wrong-footed continues and it lands with less force than he wants.

“You think you’ve got everyone worked out,” Steve trails his eyes over Eddie's face leaving his skin feeling flushed and burning, “What was it you said in the Upside Down? The Munson Doctrine? I was barely enough for you to approve of even then, right?”

The ground beneath Eddie’s feet shudders slightly, shaking his gut into an uneasy feeling but Steve doesn’t notice his suddenly shaky equilibrium as he bitingly continues, “I suppose I only met the bare minimum when you said that I was a good guy: I wasn’t a massive asshole that would allow you to take the rap for Chrissy’s murder or, I don’t know,” he laughs with very little humour, “Let Max be killed by Vecna? So that must mean I was scarcely half decent, right?”

Eddie frowns: he had meant what he said in the Upside Down — he’d seen Steve care for the party, chase after Max and make sure the kids were safe. He’d been a steady port in the storm who Eddie had looked to more than once while feeling unsafe and unsure, and Steve had always been looking back, with either a reassuring nod or a helpful explanation in the sort of plain speak necessary for a newbie to their wretched adventures.

Steve rolls out of bed and Eddie can’t even be mad that he might use his height to his advantage because he heads straight to the doorway, pausing with his hand steady on the frame. He shakes his head looking down, “I thought that you saw me. It didn’t have to be every part, but I thought that you at least saw that I’m trying to be a good person.”

He looks up and Eddie is pierced clean through by the hurt in his eyes, the walls falling briefly to allow this one sad glimpse, “But ever since I showed you who I really am, what I am, I’ve realised that your approval comes with conditions.”

“That’s not true,” Eddie protests, furiously thinking, but his gut sinks below his feet when he can’t work out a counterargument to the accusation.

The walls over Steve’s eyes swiftly build up again, leaving only a cold man in its wake. “You assuming how easy I’ve always had it tells me that you never cared enough to look below the surface anyway.” He regards Eddie for one last long second as if taking him in for the final time, and Eddie is unsure how to respond when the ground is rumbling so strongly under his feet.

Steve leaves.

Quietly and without looking back at Eddie. No fanfare in the movement as if he’s decided that he’s not worth the fight. He realises now that he’d expected Steve to push back, to argue for Eddie to do better, but—having left him behind—Eddie doesn’t know what to do other than to quietly take his book and leave.

No one sees him out.

If you enjoyed any of this, I hope you'll consider leaving a message over on Ao3 because you would make my day. :)

[megalony]

I just realised I told you I have another idea für Dark Buck, but then never told you 😂 so here it is:

Reader is Eddie's now ex-girlfriend, he broke up with her after getting to know Kim. Buck always has a thing for her, always subtly flirting and being charming, he now sees his chance. When he sees her at a bar drowning her sorrows, he talks to her to play the understanding friend and well they end up having a one night stand.

When she turns up at his doorstep a few weeks later with a pregnancy test asking him to do a paternity test he happily does it (because he knows he "forgot" the condom and he knows Eddie doesn't want anymore kids and always uses protection) - so Buck knows the outcome and he starts talking her into becoming a real family and he just buys a house for them.

Reader is blindes at first - Buck wants this baby, he wants to help her, he wants stability for this baby and he seems to be such a loving partner. But when they move in he starts showing another face, getting controlling, overprotective and Reader soon realises he is working towards her having only him, but when she wants Eddie to help her he just sees red because she started dating and ofc getting pregnant by his best friend right after they broke up ... and she realises maybe she caught on to Bucks ways to late ..

Hello again,

I can't express how much I fell in love with this idea!

I wanted to do a story like this about one of the boys dating the other's ex but I never found the right idea. This was perfect and fits Dark! Buck so well.

I loved writing this and I am praying that you would like a follow up and have some ideas for a second part as I am eager to continue this story.

I can't wait to know what you think, much love!!!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

He's Protective

[minihotdog]

Fearless Magazine

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

Prompt:

A mysterious stranger leaves an item of the main character’s front door with a note attached saying “For a rainy day”

***

“If you like him just go and tell him,” Lynn says to me curtly

“And what if he doesn’t like me and is just trying to use me?” I say exasperated.

Lynn looks up from her lunch to face me, “He kissed you, what more do you need? A proposal?”

I sigh and rest my head on my hand, “We both know his reputation.”

Eric was well known for a loner but when he did entertain the presence of a woman it was always a hit and quit.

“Yeah, he’s a whore,” Lynn spits out the statement as if she was claiming that water is wet. “However, he did more with you than he’s done with any other girl.”

“What’s that?”

“Talked to you and acknowledged your presence afterwards,” She says before stuffing her face with food. “He’s probably been laying awake at night thinking about his beautiful Y/n,” Lynn says mockingly, she hugs the air and makes kissy noises. I ball up a napkin and throw it at her while she laughs.

“He made his move, your turn.”

“Ugh! Why is this so complicated?” I ask myself while rubbing my forehead with my fingers.

“I still can’t believe big bad Eric is a softie for you!” 

“Whatever! I’m going back to work!”

***

All day Eric and I caught eachother’s eye. At one point he even winked at me.

I don’t wanna be another girl you charm and then throw off to the side.

I sit on my bed against the wall. My thoughts going back to the night he kissed me, the way his hands felt on me, his soft lips on mine.

The dating cultures of Amity and Dauntless were complete opposites. Dauntless moved too fast. You meet someone and by the first date you are together, left to figure things out as you go.

In Amity, you begin by leaving a gift of the person’s doorstep and if theyre interested, they’ll leave on on yours. Each gift comes with a note telling them about yourself and your favorite things, in hopes that you have some in common. From there you’ll meet in person and go for a walk or sit down and get to know each other. 

Maybe I should give him a gift.

Eric’s Pov

I sit on my couch with my useless leg propped up by a pillow flipping through a book I’ve read a thousand times. *Knock* *Knock*

Who the fuck is that?

I grab my crutch off the coffee table and rock myself forward in a huff. I frown to myself thinking about all the times I took having two working legs for granted.

I look through the peephole.

Oh my fucking god not this again.

I open the door and come face to face with the last person I wanted to see: the faction gossip.

“Hello, Samantha. What can I do for you?” I try my best to be nice to an elder but pieces of my dislike for her seep through.

“What’s this someone left on your doorstep?” She pries.

“I don’t know, I didn’t know it was there.” 

She looks at me suspiciously pursing her lips, the deep wrinkles on her face showing contempt.

“You better not be fooling around with anymore girls,” She warns me before handing me the box that she no doubt opened before knocking on my door.

“I never was,” I defend myself. The glare she shoots my way almost makes mine look like child’s play. “Ma’am,” I add quickly hoping she’d put the glare away. 

“Boy, don’t lie to me. I’ve seen the girls coming in and out of your room.” She puts her finger on my chest, poking me to emphasis her words. “There was that one with the funny accent and then a blonde one that was here the other day.”

“First off, the one with the accent was my ex girlfriend of two years, who hasn’t been here in months. And second, I didn’t have a blonde woman in my room recently.”

“Of course you did! She was the weird looking one with the short hair.” She argues.

“FOUR!?” I blurt out coming to the realization.

“Young man don’t you raise your voice at me!”

“Yes, ma’am, I didn’t mean to. Can I please go inside, I need to take my medication.” I lie while motioning to my cast, desperately trying to get away from her.

She waves her hand in a “go away” motion before turning away from my door.

I shut the door almost leaning against it with relief. I crutch my way back to my spot on the couch, sitting with the box on my lap. I examine the unexpected gift, I almost chortle at the polka-dot box stuck to the top as I open it. Inside lies a container with hot chocolate written across in red with a little santa in a sleigh and a note: “For a rainy day 🙂” written in cursive. 

I flip the note looking for a sender but find nothing. I can only assume it’s from Y/n, trying to court me with her Amity-ness. 

My grin stifles as I remember what Elder Samantha said, “You better not be fooling around with anymore girls!”

Is that what she’s been telling the faction? That I’m hopping bed to bed!?

My heart begins to feel heavy at the thought of Y/n hearing the rumors. I can only wonder what she’ll think of me when she does hear. As fierce as she is, deep down she’s still shy and delicate. She hasn’t been entirely conditioned to dauntless and the viciousness of the elders that live to complain about the changes in the faction, even improvements from when they were young.

What if she already knows?

Y/n’s Pov

“I forgot to put my name on it!”

Lynn hits her forehead with her hand. 

“Who else could it have been from?!” She looks at me flabbergasted. “I don’t understand these dating rituals. In Candor you just go up to someone and tell them ‘I like you’. None of these theatrics,” She says disgruntled. 

I frown at her, “I’d hate to get broken up by a Candor. They’d probably sit there and tell you every little thing that’s wrong with you until shrink,” I cross my arms. 

“That’s the good part! It helps you improve as a person.” 

We go silent upon hearing Eric’s crutch echo down the hallway. He comes through the door, usually he’d at least glance in my direction but today he looked at the ground when he passed me.

“Uh oh,” Lynn whispers before taking a sip of her latte. “Maybe he’s allergic to chocolate and thought you were trying to kill him.”

I shoot her a sharp look.

***

That day I noticed Eric was more to himself than usual. He didn’t stay late with me as he had the last two days. I wanted to ask him if he was alright but didn’t want to step out of bounds. 

Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he found another girl.

I fuss to myself. It was a friday night and I was cooped up in my bedroom ignoring Lynn’s texts telling me to come out. 

Maybe I should go out and get my mind off him.

[caspersugarboo]

Breakup Comforts

Platonic! Alphonse x reader x Platonic!Seth

Synopsis: you recently got broken up with, and are very heartbroken. Luckily you have two dumbass roommates to cheer you up!

Cw: mentions of weapons, breakups, sad vibes until our boys arrive.

" It's over"

Two words you hoped you'd never have to hear ever again. It was hard enough the first time, but a second time? Goddess, life just hated you, huh? 

You sniffle quietly as tears flow down your pink cheeks, how long had you been crying now? An hour or was it Two?

Your partner had just broken up with you. It was some bullshit excuse of  "I met someone". It had been 2 years between the two of you. Two fucking years, only for someone else to swoop in and throw it all away. 

Did you want to full on sob? Oh of course! But could you? Nope. You had two roommates, Ahem, best friends to keep in mind. First you had Alphonse, the pink haired, candy obsessed, punk. He was your first roommate, originally your only roommate. He was kind, funny, and downright adorable. 

Then you had Seth, your own personal cowboy with a heart of gold. He stumbled upon you and your roommate's doorstep one snowy night, covered in bruises. You took him in and the rest is history. 

You loved those two, they were like the family you never had. 

One wrong move and they'd probably straight up kill your part- ex. Your ex. Oh Goddess that hurt to say. You whimper quietly, well maybe not quietly as it was loud enough to catch the attention of a passing person, specifically your roommate, Seth. 

You try to muffle your breathing as a knock rings out from the door. 

" Hey Sugar, y'alright in there?" Seth asked through the door. You go to answer, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. You finally get the words together. 

" Yes! P-perfectly fine!" The sentence sounded forced and constricted, you knew he wouldn't believe you, but you prayed he'd leave. But then again part of you didn't want him to leave. 

" Y/n, you don't sound alright. Let me just come in and che-" " NO!" You shout, cutting him off. You could feel the flinch from the other side of the door. 

' look what you did now' the thought bubbled in your mind, only adding to the sting you felt. Another whimper escaped, which was followed by several tears after it. 

" Sugar, I'm coming in." Seth told you, and before you could say a word, he slung the door open. 

You stared at one another for what seemed like forever, tears rushing down your cheeks, and Seth's sweet concerned eyes staring back at you. 

" Y/n? Hey sugar, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" He asked softly.

 The sweet, honey-like tone he used finally got you. You doubled over, sobs rolling from your throat, tears flowing as fast as they could. 

Seth jumped a little, and if you weren't crying you would have laughed at his little demonstration of surprise. 

He slowly approached you, arms barely rising to touch you, but he stopped. He bit his lip between his teeth, and tried to find words. 

" D-do…do you want a hug?"  He asked gently, arms wavering ever so slightly. You nodded the best you could, and before you knew it Seth had scooped you up in his arms and squeezed lightly. Burying your face in his neck, clutching his shirt, you sobbed your heart out. Seth only whispered sweet praises to you, rubbing your back as you cried. 

It wasn't long until Alphonse strolled in, definitely alerted but the shouts and cries of his roommate. 

" Hey you two, everything alright in-... here?" Al stuttered, body coming to a halt in shock. His brows furrowed, and he walked briskly towards the two of you. 

" Hey, Hey, Hey…whats going on in here?" He muttered. Seth gave him a look as he sat down, hand coming to rest upon your shoulder.

" I dunno, I just found 'em like this…" The brunette muttered, turning to you " What's goin' on sugar?" 

You squeezed Seth a bit tighter and gave a soft hiccup, " Boo, you gotta let us know what's wrong so we can help." Al urged, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze. 

Sighing, you shuffled back on the bed. You looked up into the eyes of your roommates, only wanting to return into Seth's arms. He was always so good at giving hugs. 

You shook that thought away, fiddling with your hands nervously. " I…me and..me and (Ex's name) broke up today."

Before you could tear up any more, Alphonse grabbed your hand, Seth grabbing the other. " Oh Sugar.." Seth whispered. The pink haired one of the two only shook his head," there's more to it than that though, isn't there?" 

Gulping, you looked away trying to avoid Al's intimidating presence. He grumbled, reaching out to grab your chin, and forcing you to look back at the two of them. " Boo. What else happened." 

You blushed, embarrassed. Finally you decided to be honest with them. " I..they told me they met someone." You start, taking a breath. " Two years! Two years of love, tears, effort, promises, and time…two years and they throw it away for someone else!" By the end you were almost yelling. 

" Are you serious-" Seth said, clearly angered by what you told. Alphonse released you, looking down in his lap and smiling. This wasn't a kind, loving, smile though. This was a smile filled with slight rage and anger. 

Al stood, cracking his knuckles and giving a small laugh. " Alright then, they break your heart we break their face!" Seth grinned. Jumping up and starting with the pinkette to the door.

You paled, jumping up after them and somehow beating them to the door. Stretching your arms out in front of them, you tried to reason. " Guys! It's really not that big of a deal! It just made me sad and- Woah!" You were cut off by Al picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder.

They walked to the living room, you still on Al's shoulder, and Seth running around in search of something. 

" Seth, grab Betty for me!" Al yelled past you. Gasping you hit his back repeatedly, kicking too like some toddler. " Alphonse! Put me down right now! And Seth you better not be grabbing any weapons!" You yell out.

 You can feel Alphonse's shoulders shake with laughter. He approaches the couch and sits you down gently. " Relax boo, I was just jokin'." He said smiling. You could see him wave off Seth who was was carrying various things, like..was that a fucking bat?! 

Al sat down with you, throwing a blanket over your laps. And Seth quickly returned with a bowl of popcorn and three sodas, instead of weapons. " How the fuck- didn't you just have a ba-" the cowboy cut you off. 

" So what movie are we watching, Sugar?" 

' rude.' You thought, rolling your eyes.

" Oh! Boo, we should watch ( Favourite movie)!)" Al suggested. Instantly you lit up, eyes sparkling almost comically. " Okay!!" You cheered, taking the popcorn and two sodas from Seth. He sat down on your left, paralleling Al who sat on your right. 

The Pinkette started to put on the movie, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Seth sat his soda down on the coffee table and turned to wipe the remaining tears off your cheeks. 

" Forget about that asshole sugar, if they couldn't see your worth, they didn't deserve it in the first place." The brunette comforted. Your eyes widening before you were smashed between the two boys, both of them hugging you tightly. 

You teared up again, but this time it was happy tears. 

 

Short blurb of comfort, more on the platonic side this time. I have another one I'm planning to make longer. It should be released this coming weekend, I'm very busy this week, so let's hope!

Feel free to request anything bit please look at the pinned post to see what isn't oka and is please! If you have any questions feel free to ask!

[sophierequests]

The f!reader x Nikolai fic including Vasily was gorgeous! I just found it and wow - perfection. Absolutely jaw dropping.

Could I get a follow up fic about Nikolai's recovery? Maybe there are some after effects of the poison and he's struggling to get better. He's back at the Grand Palace but the fever, pain and dizziness keep plaguing him and he's having a hard time dealing with being so weak and feeling sick. Besides the wound on his chest hasn't healed either yet...

Basically reader being cute af and taking care of sick Nikolai (maybe also Vasily being a little but caring shit lmao)

bring me back to life // in the bright lilac light part two

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x f!Reader

A/N: This is part two to my 'Violet Rot' fic, so please check that out before you proceed with this one. Otherwise, you probably won't understand some of the references and the general set-up. I did not expect that anyone would want a part two to this particular fanfic, but I'm very glad you asked! Taking care of a sick Nikolai is very dear to my heart <3 Now I just have to wait for someone requesting a part three with the wedding djhalhldhja Thank you for requesting this, I hope I managed to live up to your expectations <3

You can find part one here!

Summary: Recovery is hard and there is nothing one can do to speed it up - very much to Nikolai's dismay.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, very much Fluff

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, injuries and Vasily

"Why does he still look like he's standing on death's doorstep?" Vasily whispered to you as he looked down on his very sickly-appearing brother, who was supposed to have recovered from his injuries by now.

"Try getting stabbed with a poisoned blade and we'll see how you look after barely a week of being home," you replied, letting a comforting hand run through Nikolai's golden hair, carefully removing the wet strands that stuck to his fever-stricken forehead.

"I'm sure I'd at least have a little bit more…colour on my cheeks. That's all. He looks terrible," the prince mumbled almost childishly.

"I'm not unconscious, Vasily. I can hear you. Loud and clear for that matter. And it's not really aiding my headache," your fiancé rasped out, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"I think it would be best if we'd give him a bit of space. Some peace would very likely do him some good," you sighed as you filled up another glass of water to at least keep him hydrated, putting it beside his bed and attempting to stand up.

"Stay, please." You felt his hand tightening around your wrist, his grip hardly firm enough to pull your hand towards him.

"I'll take that as my sign to leave." Vasily gave you a courteous nod before sauntering to the door. "Don't die while I'm gone, brother. I'd hate to be the one having to break the news to mother."

"Don't get blackout drunk. I'd hate to be the one having to tell Nikolai about you vomiting into one of the plant pots again," you called after him, earning a faint chuckle from the man next to you and an offended grunt from his brother.

You turned back to Nikolai, watching him struggle as he attempted to sit up. The wound on his chest was still an oozing mess that just didn't want to heal properly. He could barely move his torso to complete the most basic tasks, and it infuriated him deeply. The additional fever and dizzy spells didn't improve his already low spirits.

"I hate to admit it, but our pompous little prince is right. You do look terrible, my love."

"Oh, so now you're taking his side?" he lamented dramatically, presumably putting all his energy into the act.

"Well, he is to be my future brother-in-law, after all. I must agree with him occasionally or else he might think badly of me. And who would want that?" you mused with highly sarcastic undertones.

"And I'm your future husband, does that not have any merit in the matter?"

"You're right. I should marry Vasily instead. Just to not commit any sort of treason by periodically opposing my beloved." Nikolai's gaze shot towards you, shock and a slight hint of disgust in his eyes.

"Don't you dare even think about that," he griped, fiddling with the delicate engagement ring on your finger.

It was a habit he had picked up ever since he had proposed to you. Whenever nervousness or stress overtook him, he'd reach out to take your hand into his, mindlessly twisting and turning the golden band. On the rare occasion that you weren't around, he would do the same with his own. It just wasn't as comforting.

"I would never," you snorted. "I do have standards. Even though I had to tweak them quite a bit to consent to marrying you."

Instead of giving you one of his snarky comebacks, he squeezed your hand one last time before letting go of it. His free hand reached for the glass of water on the side table next to him, but he was too weak to properly hold on to it, causing it to shake heavily. You quickly snatched it out of his hand, earning a dissatisfied glare from the young Lantsov.

"Love, I can-"

"Your hands are shaking like reeds in the wind, darling. As much as I would love to see you do all these things by yourself again, you can't right now. And that's okay. I'll take care of you until then," you assured.

"It's just so…frustrating," he let out a huffed breath, visibly overwhelmed by the whole situation.

He wanted nothing more than to just feel like his old self again. It infuriated him how weak he was. The pain should have gotten better by now, yet he still felt like a frail porcelain doll that threatened to break every time it left the shelf. And as much as he appreciated you taking care of him, he couldn't shake off the feeling of being useless.

"I know," you sighed, letting your eyes trail down to the bandage covering his chest. "But the more pressure you put yourself under, the longer it'll take for you to get better."

Nikolai turned his head to the side, not wanting you to see his face in case he wasn't able to keep the tears from falling. You seeing him cry would only humiliate him more, he thought.

"Nikolai." You cupped his cheek with one hand, pulling his face back to look at you. He hated that you knew him well enough to realise what was going on inside his head. "Don't be so hard on yourself. We're all so relieved that you're alive - even Vasily. No one expects you to do anything other than recover. No matter how long that might take. Please get some rest and let me help you."

"You shouldn't have to take care of me," he breathed out. "You shouldn't have to worry about my health or whether I will make it through the night. I'm so sorry for putting you through all of this."

"I'm not doing this because I have to, Nikolai. I'm doing this because I want to. Taking care of you isn't burdensome. Not to me." He closed his eyes as your thumb began to trace circles over the slight ridge of his cheekbone. "We're engaged - soon to be married. One of the conditions for that is to be there for the other. In sickness and in health. We may have not exchanged our vows yet, but that doesn't matter. I love you too much to watch you wither away like this. Let me do this for you."

"Thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Now, drink something and then try to sleep for a bit. I still have some correspondence to take care of, but it won't take too long. I'll come back as soon as I'm done. Send for me in case you need me. " He only nodded in response, too tired to say or do much more.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before you left his bedroom. Of course, you would have preferred staying with him, even if it was just to watch him sleep. However, you still had a few duties of your own to fulfil and you couldn’t shove them away forever. You couldn’t allow yourself another misstep after lying to your parents about your whereabouts, that was for sure.

After close to two hours spent with measly paperwork and bureaucratic duties, your focus was pried away from the neatly stacked documents on your desk by muffled bickering in the hallway outside your door. You took a quick look at your pocket watch, concluding that it was definitely way too late for your parents to still be out and about.

A bit hesitantly, you abandoned your previous occupation, carefully tiptoeing towards the corridor where the noise had to come from. The scene you had to witness almost gave you a heart attack.

Vasily stood in the middle of the hall, his normally pristine white shirt dirtied with bloodstains. He was hunched over, hovering close to another person that sat on the hard marble floor, their back pressed against the wall. When you noticed that said person was none other than your fiancé - blood smeared all over his hand and shirt, a dazed look on his face - you immediately sprung into action.

“Vasily?” You directed your question at the more alert-looking Lantsov. “By the Saints, what happened?”

“Fuck, if I only knew!” he replied, his stern features relaxing as you approached the two of them. “I was just about to retire to my chambers after a hard day of-”

“Day drinking? You reek of kvas, Vasily,” you muttered under your breath, poignantly ignoring the scowl he gave you.

“As I said, I was about to make my way back to my chambers until I saw this fool lying on the floor with blood everywhere. I thought he was dying! I tried to get him back to his own bedroom, but I can’t possibly carry him back there on my own. Especially not with all that carnage on him.” You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, crouching down next to his brother to assess whatever was going on.

“Nikolai,” you said his name once, your hand finding his face like it had a few hours earlier. His eyes were open, but he seemed to be somewhat loopy. “Love, are you alright?”

“Yes,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his bloody hand clutching the wound on his chest as he tried to sit up straight. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” you warned, looking at the quite deep cut that ran across his arm and hand. “Do you think you can walk back to your room? With our help, of course.” Vasily scoffed, but you didn’t let that bother you. “I have to take a look at that. You don’t need another injury that runs the risk of developing an infection.”

He wanted to say yes, but when another jolt of pain shot through his body, you knew that you couldn’t let that happen.

“That’s a no. Vasily, I will need your help to carry him to my bedroom. It’s right around the corner and we won’t risk having any of his wounds reopen.”

Even though the prince gave you a sharp look of dismay, he followed your bidding. Slowly, he bent down to his brother, slinging an arm around his middle to awkwardly force him to stand. Nikolai tried everything in his power to get both of his feet on the ground. However, he could only hold his weight for a few seconds before his knees threatened to give in. Vasily had to stifle a gag when he felt the wet blood dripping on his skin and staining his clothes. If you hadn’t been so worried about the state of your boyfriend you would have probably found his reaction pretty amusing.

“Are you certain that you want this biological hazard to be brought to your chambers?” he asked, turning up his nose when his brother let out a low grunt. “Wouldn’t it be preferable to bring him to a Healer? You know, like a person that is specifically trained to treat wounds like this?”

“No Healer, please,” Nikolai panted, tightening his hold on Vasily’s shoulder.

Both of you knew that he wasn’t too fond of Healers. It was not like he disliked or opposed them, but after seeing what people like them were used for in the Second Army. He had seen what they could fix, but he had also seen what they could destroy.

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it. As much as I have seen, it’s nothing life-threatening. And even if it were, we all know that I have some experience in treating life-threatening injuries by now.” You flashed Vasily a cocky grin, reminding him of the threat on his life you made should he ever even do so much as think about telling anyone about what he saw in that medical tent.

“If you insist,” he mumbled, taking steady steps towards your room.

Once you finally reached the safety of your chambers, you ordered him to set him down in one of the armchairs next to your vanity - bloodstains be damned. Nikolai groaned as soon as his brother let go of him, his back hitting the braided wicker quite harshly.

“Uhm, I’ll go and…clean myself up now. Especially before mother sees this,” Vasily declared, his gaze staying on his little brother for a bit longer before he turned to leave. “You know where to find me in case you need any help hiding the body. Or whatever issue you might need help with.”

“Thank you, Vasily.” No matter how often this man had infuriated and annoyed you before, you couldn’t help but appreciate his unexpected acts of kindness when you needed them most. Even with his unnecessary commentary. “I think I can handle him for the night. But thank you nonetheless.”

With an acknowledging nod, he exited the room, leaving you alone to deal with a bleeding Nikolai.

“First things first, I’ll need to get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” you explained, hurrying towards the bathroom to grab a wet rag and all the other medical supplies you were sure to need.

Since you couldn’t have been sure whether the bloodstains on his shirt were from the fresh wound on his arm or the stab wound on his chest, you decided that his shirt had to go - it was ruined anyway, so what was the harm?

“Darling, shouldn’t we get married before consummating said marriage?” your fiancé joked, looking down at you as you unbuttoned his shirt.

“Kolya, this is not the time,” you rebutted light-heartedly, pulling the ruined shirt off his shoulders and allowing him to do the rest.

With rather unsteady hands, you tried to clean all of the remaining blood off his torso and arms, seeing that the wound on his hand wasn’t too drastic after all. He didn’t fuss when you tossed the dirty rag, replacing the warm feeling of the wet fabric with the cool sting of the numbing cream. The relief on his face was evident in an instant.

As you put a bandage around his arm and hand, you felt his gaze fixating on you, not leaving your form, not even when you left his side to clean out the piece of cloth and stash away your medical supplies. You couldn’t help but think about his nickname ‘sobachka’. He hated that nickname, but in moments like these, it rang more true than ever. He really was a lost little puppy sometimes.

“Are you alright, Nikolai?” you asked softly, stealing a brief glance at the bandage wrapped around his torso, which he detested with a burning passion.

“I am now. Thank you, my love,” he sighed, letting his gaze waiver towards the clunky bandage on his arm.

“Do you mind telling me what caused you to drag yourself outside of your room with a bleeding wound? How did you even manage that?”

“I was thirsty,” he began, the façade of the confident prince slipping, revealing a meek little boy that had to talk about something he really didn’t want to. “I couldn’t hold onto the glass and it shattered on the floor. And since I didn’t want to have someone else remove it, I tried cleaning it up. Well, let’s just say it didn’t turn out how it was supposed to.”

“And why didn’t you call for me, honey?” you sighed, retrieving one of his spare shirts from your dresser, not wanting him to get even sicker from the cool evening breeze that filtered in through your open windows.

“I didn’t want anyone else to see me like…this.”

“So you opted for stumbling through half of the Grand Palace looking like you had just murdered someone instead?”

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot less logical than I had imagined it.” Now you could see how he and Vasily were related.

“You were really lucky that your brother’s drinking habit forces him to be out this late. I don’t even want to imagine how long you would have stayed outside if he hadn’t found you.”

“We should probably call him again to help with getting me back to my chambers,” he fretted, dreading having to rely on Vasily’s help again.

“Absolutely not. You’re staying here for the night. I’m not letting you out of my eyesight tonight. Not after this stunt,” you declared, grinning at the befuddled expression on his face.

“We’re sleeping in the same bed? Before we’re actually married? Scandalous.”

“Choose your words wisely, or else I might let you sleep on the floor.”

“You would let a poor injured man sleep on the cold, hard floor? That’s pretty heartless.”

“Maybe I should genuinely reconsider marrying you if that’s how you see me. I heard Vasily is still looking for a wife,” you sneered, throwing him the shirt and watching while he put it on.

“Tough luck. You’d have to compete with his love for whiskey and horses first, and I have a sneaking suspicion of which one of you would win that scrabble.” You let out a faint laugh at that, shaking your head as you moved closer to him.

“Alright, enough slander for the day. Let’s get your stubborn ass to bed.” You offered him your arm, supporting him steadily before you cautiously manoeuvred him towards your bed. He was very unsteady on his feet, heavily relying on you to keep him standing, but you were glad that his knees didn’t threaten to buckle this time.

Slowly, you let him sit on the bed, lifting the duvet for him to crawl under. You were very careful when you slid in next to him. Even though you didn’t want to treat him like he might turn to dust as soon as someone touched him, you still had to be cautious to not accidentally hurt him.

A part of your worry subsided when he opened his arms, beckoning you to come closer to him. He may be a bit weaker than what he was used to, but his neediness was still on the same level as it was before. So with a hint of hesitance, you scooted closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you.

His arms were still wrapped around your waist when you woke up the next morning. The sun that filtered through the window bathed both of you in a warm golden light that made wanting to get up even more difficult than you had expected. You couldn’t even begin to describe how much the thought of waking up like this for the rest of your life excited you.

You placed a gentle kiss on the sharp line of his jaw, tracing your arm along his arms before slipping out of his grasp. You had expected him to wake up after feeling you kiss him, however, he remained laying in bed like a wet sack of flour. For a moment you panicked, fearing that something might have been wrong with him. But when you intended to reach for his wrist in an attempt to check his pulse, a sonorant snore left his mouth. Perhaps he really just needed a long good night’s sleep.

He only showed any sort of life when you re-entered the bedroom after you had changed. His snores had seized completely now, replaced with his soft breathy chuckle as he watched you parade around your room.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” you laughed, seeing him sit up slowly. You were glad to see that he looked a whole lot better than yesterday. “You slept well, I assume?”

“How could I not? I slept next to you, after all.” His hazel eyes glistened in the light, resembling two pieces of true amber. “I can’t recall the last time I had a dream this pleasant.”

“What did you dream of?”

“I dreamt of a life with you in it.” His honesty made you freeze for a second. He was quite the piece of work. One second he had you fearing for his life, and the next he made your heart skip a beat because of how utterly besotted with you he was.

“I’m already in your life, Kolya. And I’m not intending to leave it anytime soon.” You walked over to your bed to press a faint kiss to his cheek. As a reminder that you would always be here.

“If I get bet-”

“When. When you get better,” you corrected, reaching for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly.

“When I get better, we should look into moving the wedding forward. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“So eager to marry me now, aren’t we?” you laughed, letting out a high-pitched squeak when he pulled you towards him. “Nikolai, be careful!”

“Oh, love, I’ve been eager to marry you ever since the day I proposed to you.” He peppered your cheeks with kisses, forcing you to giggle like a young schoolgirl. Every single etiquette lesson you ever had the joy of attending flew right out of the window while your fiancé continued to make you laugh and wiggle erratically.

“I suppose I’ll have to agree to that.”

This was the life you wanted to have.

Nikolai had opted to stay in your chambers for a few days longer. This way, you would be able to get to him quicker, he reasoned. And obviously, you weren’t one to deny him. Staying with you seemingly helped him in his recovery, and it helped you in calming your nerves.

You could the colour return to his cheeks again, the longer he rested and let himself be taken care of. He was still weaker than he had anticipated, but he could do most of the minor self-care tasks himself. He could hold a glass, eat, and even managed to get himself to the bathroom without any sort of support. Even though that felt like a minuscule step to him, you were more than proud of him.

One week after he started sleeping in your room, he made you feel even prouder.

It had been such a long and tiring day of working through the piles of documents and correspondence that you could quite literally feel your body gravitating towards the floor. A quick glimpse at the clock told you that Nikolai was probably already waiting for you to come back. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you at all today - you had been with him for breakfast, lunch and dinner - but he still managed to pump up his theatrics and act like you had abandoned him for years. His penchant for overdramatisation didn’t help you with stowing away all your paperwork.

You pulled yourself to your feet, arranging and sorting all the different stacks you had created, before you put them in their respective cabinets surrounding your table. You had been so focused on your work that you didn’t hear the door behind you clicking shut, and someone approaching you very slowly.

A pair of firm arms wrapped around your middle from behind, someone’s head now resting on your shoulder. You were close to whacking whoever it was with the not particularly heavy paperweight, but when a gentle kiss was pressed to the column of your throat, you rethought that intention. Nikolai let out a muffled hum, his body flush with yours as you sunk into his touch. You didn’t begin to process the semantics of his presence until you noticed him sway backwards ever so slightly.

“Wait, Nikolai?” You wiggled yourself out of his grasp, your hands still resting on his in case he needed to steady himself. When you turned, you saw the smug-looking prince glance at you like he had just been caught red-handed in doing something he shouldn’t.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, sounding almost offended.

“How did you get here?” You waved off his question, letting your eyes wander towards the door in an attempt to check for someone who could have helped him get here. The walk from your bedroom to the waiting room wasn’t long, but it was definitely longer than the walk to your bedroom.

“How do you expect me to get here?” He smiled at you, waiting for you to finally understand what this statement implied.

You raised a quizzical brow, not really following what he was trying to tell you.

“Since my horse didn’t fit through your door frame I had to take it upon myself to walk over to you,” he explained, watching the realisation spread over your face.

“You walked over here by yourself?” you beamed, unable to contain your excitement. “Kolya, that’s so good! I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d get better soon. Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Do y-”

He silenced you by pressing his lips onto yours, abruptly ending your ramblings with a smile on his face.

“I’m fine. A bit sore, but fine.” He kissed your forehead once more. “It’s late. I was wondering why you didn’t come to bed. Apparently, my terribly worrisome heart and undying love for you was enough of a reason for my body to eventually listen to me again.”

“Admit it, your main objective is to push our wedding date forward,” you laughed, looking up at him to see him smile sheepishly.

“I see, you have revealed one of my most well-guarded secrets,” Nikolai bemoaned with a fake scowl.

“If that is one of your most well-guarded secrets, I can’t even begin to imagine what the other end of that spectrum loo-" He kissed you again, uncaring of whatever sarcastic comment you might have to offer.

"Y/N!" The door to your office was slammed open. "Nikolai is not in his or your b-" Vasily stopped dead in his tracks, seeing his brother and fiancée look at him amusedly after you had just visibly been making out.

Both of you watched as a shade of deep red shot into his face as he noted the mistake he made by not knocking.

"Forgive me, I'll leave you to it."

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Nikolai Lantsov: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaye-here @maximoffgxrl @lastwandastan