#being drunk is not helping me hold back the sneezes at all

[snzluv3r]

giving the kitten at this party unlimited snuggles and kisses may have been a mistake my nose + eyes are sooooo itchy and i cannot stop sneezing

[cheollipop]

ginger & cinnamon tea

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 3.5k

tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, sick fic

after his roommate suggested a way to get rid of the sniffles, san – being the trusting friend he was – just had to try it.

warnings: praise, begging (so... much... begging), pussy-drunk! san, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (boooo!!! 👎🏻), multiple rounds/orgasms, multiple creampies, a sprinkle of overstimulation, a hint of anal (m receiving), one (1) chomp, san's stamina is through the roof in this one oof, perhaps a slight breeding kink bc why not, I think that's all-

A/N: here it is... my first smut fic (yes, its another sick fic. we won't speak about it)... I'm absolutely terrified posting this, but I really hope you all enjoy reading it! a special thanks to alyssa (aka @toxicccred <3) for entertaining my horny thoughts for literally hours yesterday. mwah ily lots.

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

San's sneeze blasted through your phone's speaker, your body flinching back at the sound.

"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly.

You shook your head, a small smile on your face as you watched his face sink deeper into his pillow.

"Does your head still hurt?"

He hummed. "It's not as bad. I think the painkillers have finally kicked in."

"What about your fever? Have Woo check it for you."

"(Y/n)."

"Have him make you some soup as well. With extra veggies-"

"Baby, calm down. It's just a cold," San chuckled, the sound coming out rough and gravelly.

You pouted, eyebrows furrowing, exhaling a long sigh. "I hate not being there for you when you're sick. This business trip wasn't even that important." You slumped back in your armchair, yet to change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable.

"You're coming back tomorrow," he reminded you, clearing his throat, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. "You can give me all your love and attention then."

His words brought a smile to your lips. Perhaps it was also the two dimples you loved so much peeking out to greet you.

"No kisses, though."

His bottom lip jutted out. "I guess I'll settle for cuddles."

"Then I'll be sure to put my all into them," you promised.

You kept the call open while you went about your nighttime routine, telling San about your two-day business trip, and how your boss got too drunk and embarrassed himself over dinner. Sliding under the covers, your skin glowing with the fresh layer of skin care he had bought you for valentine's day, you rested your head on the pillow. Neither of you spoke, simply pretending that the other was an arm's reach away as your breaths slowly evened out, falling asleep to soft smiles and pretty dimples.

--

The door opened after a few seconds of you knocking, a large smile on the man's face greeting you.

"Welcome back!"

"Thank you, Woo.” He pulled you into a hug, squeezing you once before letting go. You spoke while you slipped your shoes off, "how's he doing?"

"He's a big boy, don't worry too much about him." Wooyoung walked with you as you made your way to San's room.

You breathed out a laugh. "You know I can't help it."

Wooyoung only smiled, ruffling your hair before disappearing into his room – the door adjacent to San's.

Peeking into San's room, your eyes instantly met with his. He was sitting up in bed, holding a tissue to his nose. You couldn't help the grin splitting your face, nearly hopping with excitement as you made your way towards him. San threw the tissue god-knows-where and held his arms open for you, wrapping them around your frame once you were close enough. You pressed your lips to his forehead, smacking a kiss onto the heated skin before sitting by his side and relaxing into his embrace.

"I've missed you, my love," San muttered against your hair, kissing your temple. His voice was hoarse, and you could tell he had a stuffy nose.

"Me too. So much," you inhaled his scent, hands running up and down his clothed back.

Wooyoung peeked his head back into the room, gym bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled at the sight of the two of you holding each other so close, he wasn't sure where you began and where San ended.

"Alright, lovebirds, I'm going to the gym for a few hours," he spoke, unsure if you could even hear him from how deeply molded into each other the two of you were.

San waved at him with one of the hands wrapped around your back, and you sent him off with a quiet "have fun."

Wooyoung hesitated at the door, peeking in once more, the corner of his lips curling into a sly smirk. "You know…"

You turned your head to look at the man, raising an eyebrow at him, urging him to speak.

"They say some sweet lovemaking gets rid of colds prettyyy quick," he winked.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you could see San's ears turning a bright red – yet you weren't sure if that was Wooyoung’s doing or the cold's.

"Ya!" San grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him.

Wooyoung ran away, effectively dodging the swarm of pillows being thrown at him, his squeaky giggles echoing in the apartment even after the front door clicked shut behind him.

"Sorry about that. Just ignore him," San pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, tucking you back into his chest.

You let out a breathy laugh, nuzzling your cheek against San's collarbone. "It's Wooyoung, I'm used to his antics by now."

"You're right," he grinned, laying down on his bed, taking you with him.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, Sannie?"

"Just let me hold you," he flexed his arms around you, squeezing you for a few seconds before relaxing again.

You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut, your hand sliding under his shirt to settle against the soft skin of his hip.

You remained that way, limbs tangled up with his under the comforter, your cheek pressed to his chest as it rose and fell steadily. You felt his breath hitch, chest hiccuping as he cleared his throat repeatedly. You raised your head to meet his eyes, your hair disheveled and tangled from where his fingers had been running through it.

“Are you okay? Does something hurt?”

His hand smoothed down your unkempt locks, cupping the back of your neck and giving it a small squeeze. “I’m okay,” he cleared his throat again.

You stifle a laugh at his attempt to hold back his cough. “Don’t hold it back, you idiot.”

He pouted, muttering under his breath, “such heartwarming words.” He hid his face in the crook of his elbow and coughed, the sound ripping through his chest. He winced, eyes shut tightly and the corners of his mouth turning downwards.

“Oh, baby,” your fingers ran through his hair, scratching at his scalp before moving down to cup his cheek. San leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm, his skin heated against yours. “I’ll go make you some tea.”

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, taking your free hand in his and interlocking your fingers with his, giving them a tight squeeze.

“I’ll just be a moment,” you leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Just stay here, I don’t need any tea,” San touched his forehead to yours.

You kissed the tip of his nose, then placed another one on his cheekbone. “Yes you do.” Untangling yourself from him, you made your way to the kitchen, stopping at his bedroom door. “Just call out if you need me.”

You left the room, finally allowing yourself to laugh at the expression San was giving you – bottom lip jutting out, eyes big and pleading.

He was so cute, you thought, as you stared at the boiling water. Dropping a few pieces of ginger into the water, followed by a stick of cinnamon, you left them to boil on low heat for a few minutes. You turned the stove off before placing a tea bag into the kettle and watched as the liquid slowly darkened.

Pouring the steaming tea into his favourite mug, you walked back to his room.

You immediately noticed his restless shuffling under the thick blanket, his breathing heavy and labored, a sheen of sweat reflecting the dim light from the small lap perched on his bedside.

"San?" You hurried to his side, setting the mug down by the lamp before placing your palm on his forehead, worried his fever might have returned. "Does anything hurt?"

"(Y/n), please…" He muttered, voice so breathy his words were barely coherent, still fidgeting under his blanket.

"What's wrong, Sannie?" You began to push the blanket off him, allowing the cool air to hit his heated skin.

Your worry faded as soon as you pulled it off his torso, leaving it gathered at his knees. Your eyes traveled between his pants – pulled midway down his thighs – and his hand, wrapped around his hard length, his hips thrusting into his fist with vigor.

"S-san! What are you doing?" Your hands twitched at your sides, not knowing what to do, your eyes stuck on San's lower half. Arousal pooled between your legs, waves of heat surging through your body.

"Please, (Y/n)- ah," he whined. His fingers squeezed around his girth, the breathy moan that escaped his lips going straight to your core. "Please, help me. Wooyoung said-"

"Sannie, Wooyoung’s an idiot. You need to rest," your voice wavered, prying your eyes off San's middle to meet his eyes.

"Please… please, please, (Y/n)."

You were stuck battling between your morals and your arousal, rubbing your thighs together as you struggled to speak. But San was looking up at you with hooded eyes, lips parted as he panted heavily, hips never ceasing their movement. You eyed the bead of precum leaking from his tip – how his hand smeared it down his length with its relentless movement. With those flushed cheeks and whispered pleads – how could you ever say no?

"What can I do to make you feel better?"

"Ah, San. Fuck. Your mouth is so-," warm, you wanted to say before San ripped another moan out of you, your hand fisted in his hair as he lapped at your cunt like a starved man.

He slipped another finger alongside the two he had stuffed inside you, curling them to drag along your walls, pressing against the spot that made your back arch, your breathy moans egging him on.

"Taste so good," he nuzzled his nose against your clit, his tongue slipping down to lick up the wetness dripping out of you and around his fingers. His hips rutted against the sheets where he laid on his stomach, eyes fluterring shut as he breathed heavily against your folds, drunk off your arousal.

"Oh, God. San- hnngh," your hips jumped off the bed, your hand on the back of San's head helping you push him closer to your core. "I'm about to- ah, baby, you're making me feel so good."

San's fingers thrusted into you harder, encouraged by your praise, pressing against your sweet spot every time he pushed back in. His tongue was back on your clit, alternating between lapping at it and sucking it between his lips. Your back arched once more as waves of pleasure rushed through your body, your thighs shaking around San's face as he helped you ride out your high, his fingers deep inside you while his tongue worked to swallow everything you gave him.

Panting heavily, your eyes closed, trying to regain your breath. "Shit, San."

San climbed up your body, his chin dripping with his spit and your arousal. "Did that feel good?" He looked at you through hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling at the same rate as yours.

“Yes, San, it was amazing,” you breathed out a laugh, jumping when the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive clit. San leaned closer, his chest pressed against yours, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

"Can I-" San pressed his lips against your skin, taking the shell of your ear between his teeth, the hand not holding him up wrapping around his cock again. He pumped himself a few times before running his tip along your folds, his precum mixing with the spit and arousal.

You tucked a few strands behind his ear, holding his cheek in your hand, smiling when he nuzzled into the touch. "Kiss me, Sannie."

San shook his head against your palm. "I don't want to get you sick."

You moved your hand to his nape, pulling his face closer to yours, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling against the skin. "I think it's a little too late for that."

That was all it took for San to slam his lips against yours and moaning into your mouth, his teeth clashing against your front ones, desperately biting into your bottom lip.

"Let me have you, please, let me," he whispered against your lips, diving back in to suck your bitten bottom lip into his mouth.

You nodded, reaching down to take his length between your fingers – eliciting a sharp hiss from the man above you – and positioned him at your entrance, adjusting your position to take him more easily. San pushed forward, his tip breaching your tight hole, sliding more of his length inside you as his tongue ran over the roof of your mouth, sucking your tongue between his lips. He bottomed out inside you, pulling back to pant against your lips, his moans breathy and needy. Grinding his hips against yours, your eyes rolled back with a whispered fuck.

San pressed his forehead to yours, struggling to keep his eyes open while your walls squeezed around his length. "Is that okay, baby? God, you feel so good, I could cum right now."

"It feels so- so good, Sannie," you cupped his cheeks, one hand slipping down to his neck. "Just- please, move."

With his lips attached to your neck, he gave a few slow thrusts, the stretch of his cock between your walls almost overwhelming. You wrapped your arms around San's shoulders, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.

"I need-" he panted against your skin, lips pressed to your cheek, peppering open-mouthed kisses all over your face. San bent one of his knees, pressing it into the mattress by your hips, your thigh hooked over his. "I need more, please. Can I have more, please baby?"

San's eyes were teary as they stared into yours, pleading, his hand squeezing the flesh of your hip, cock dragging against your walls.

Your hand slid down to his lower back, lips pressing against his jaw. "Take what you want, Sannie, I'm all yours."

Digging the knee by your hip into the mattress, San pushed his cock all the way inside you, rolling his hips until they were flush with yours, your eyes rolling back at the stretch. With a hand on the underside of your thigh, he bent it back until your knee rested under your armpit before he began to piston his hips, building a steady rhythm as he fucked the moans out of you. San’s lips pressed gentle kisses down the column of your throat, stopping to suck and bite at the flesh, leaving behind a trail of purple and blue bruises that you would scold him for later.

He breathed heavily against your skin, a mix of grunts and airy moans escaping his lips. “You’re so perfect, every last bit of you,” he took your nipple into his mouth, giving it a sharp suck before biting down on it, your body jolting under him.

“San – a-ahh – more, give me more.” Your whole body spasmed every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot, his hand pushing your other leg over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even harder. “You feel so good, baby. So, so good.”

“Fuck. I’m not going to last,” he tongue made a trail up your cleavage to the hollow of your neck, moving to your face and slotting his lips against yours, running his tongue over your teeth.

Please, please, please, you repeated, unsure of what exactly you were asking for, San’s hips slamming so hard against yours it left your brain lagging. He brought the hand on your thigh down to your sopping folds, two fingers rubbing hastily at your swollen clit as he tried to bring you over the edge with him. Your walls clenched around his throbbing cock as a numbing wave of pleasure coursed through your body. San’s hips stuttered, managing a few more thrusts before stilling, cock pushed all the way inside your pulsing cunt as the familiar warmth of his cum took over your senses. A series of high-pitched moans escaped his lips as he emptied his load inside you.

He pulled out just enough to shoot the last rope of cum onto your mound, rubbing it through your folds with the tip of his cock, your legs closing in around his hips when he brushed against your clit.

He looked down at the mess he had made before sheathing himself back inside your cunt, pushing some of his cum out in the process.

“S-san!” Your hips jolted, trying to move away from him as you began to feel overstimulated.

“I’m sorry, please, just-” He rocked his hips into yours, his face tucked into your neck, his hot breath blowing against your skin. “I need more, (Y/n).”

Your thighs shook uncontrollably around him, the pleasure mixing with pain as your nerves went into overdrive. But San was looking at you with teary eyes, sniffing every other second as his nose started running. He looked so fucked out, hair disheveled and the sheen of sweat covering his body reflecting the dim light. He pushed his hips flush against yours, grinding slowly, unable to stop himself as waves of pleasure shot through his spine.

“Please… just one more… please, baby, will you give it to me?” He pressed his lips to your cheek, then to your nose, and finally your mouth, placing short sweet kisses on your lips while he begged you for more.

When the tears welling up in his eyes – a mixture of his cold and the pleasure overwhelming his every sense – dampened his precious skin, his eyes glimmering as he looked down at you, you knew you had lost this battle. Perhaps even the war, and everything in between.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Sannie,” you whispered against his lips, moaning into his mouth as his thrusts picked up their pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing between the four walls.

Sliding his arms under you, he held you closer to him, your tits squeezing against his chest as his cock slid in and out of you, pushing directly against your g-spot with every thrust. San’s moans got louder – needier – as he pumped himself into you, desperately chasing his high.

“You’re taking me so well, my love – ahhh – fuck, (Y/n), every single inch,” he bit down on your shoulder, squeezing your waist so tight he was bound to leave bruises. “I’m going to fill you up with so much cum, it’ll be dripping out of you for days. You'll take all of it, won't you?”

His words made your walls clamp up on him, his thrusts faltering and turning sloppy. “Please, Sannie, want your cum so bad – hnnngh,” your nails dragged over the soft skin of his back, your eyes rolling back when his fingers made contact with your clit, rubbing at it desperately, reveling in the feeling of your pussy clenching around his cock. “I’m- fuck, I’m so close.”

"My pretty baby," he slid his tongue over your parted lips. "So beautiful, letting me fuck my cum into her."

Your hand slid down his slick skin to squeeze at the firm flesh of his ass, making him groan into your neck. Slowly, your fingers made their way between his cheeks, brushing over his puckered hole. San’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, pounding his cock into you with fervor as you sunk the tip of your finger into his ass, feeling it clench around your digit. A familiar warmth surged through you as San pumped his cum into you, sliding his cock in and out of your abused cunt as ribbons of white painted your walls. He slowly stilled his hips and you felt his cock throbbing inside you, his cum fucked so deep into you, you feared no contraceptive could stop you from bearing his children. He leaned in, pressing his mouth to yours as he filled you up; his lips parted after a few seconds, the pleasure leaving him too fucked out to do anything but moan and groan into your mouth.

“(Y/n), baby, you feel so good... it won’t stop coming out,” he ground his hips into yours, feeling more of his cum filling you up, a stream of it leaking out and pooling on his sheets.

The tears in his eyes, the euphoric expression on his face, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your sensitive clit, the feeling of his cock buried so deep within you still shooting out ropes of cum – you weren’t sure what threw you off the edge, perhaps it was all of those factors combined. Your toes curled, and you could swear you saw stars, vision blurring as your body writhed under San’s, clawing at his back while he helped you ride out your high.

Your legs didn't stop spasming even after San plopped down on his side next to you, reaching out to brush your hair off your face, his palm cupping your cheek, thumb rubbing against the flushed skin. “Are you okay?”

You blinked slowly at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Mmm, perfect.” You turned your body to face him, your knees shaking in the process – and San may or may not have smiled proudly at that. “You know, I would have hid your scarves a long time ago if I knew you could fuck like that.”

Your giggles vibrated between the walls as San attacked you, fingers prodding at your sides, limbs too heavy to fight him off your body.

--

Wooyoung peeked his head into the room, grimacing at the overbearing stuffiness. Looking around, he noticed the pile of clothes thrown into one corner, soiled towels tossed in the opposite direction. A pair of bodies slept soundly, tangled up together under the thick comforter, San's soft snores breaking through the stillness in the room.

Wooyoung’s hand reached up to cover his mouth, stifling a squeaky laugh as the realization hit him.

“Holy shit, they actually did it.”

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[azures-bazar]

Oi there ! I love your RDR2 one shots (mostly the ones where Arthur's being soft af) !!

Could you make one of Arthur being sick and being taken care of by female!reader ??

Thanks in advance, love your work !

High Fever

Hello there anon, thank you for your request !

First of, I'm sorry it took me more than two weeks :') My job is taking most of my free-time as I kinda overwork (yep). Keeping the job I've got at the moment is a real battle, so writing takes much more time than I expected.

Anyway, I hope you'll still like this one-shot. I'm sorry for the mistakes, it's badly written due to the lack of free time I've got :')

Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader 

Word count : 3.8k 

Short summary : Arthur came back to camp overwhelmingly sick, and you are not leaving him alone !

A/Note : Arthur’s tent has flaps and he’s sharing it with reader ! 

Tags : Arthur is sick, some fluff (as always), soft, taking care of someone ill, chapter 3, summer breeze, small whump aftercare (somehow), flu, vastly inspired by IRL

The sun was shining brightly, the morning weather was already quite warm. It was not a surprise, you had been warned about Lemoyne’s overall hot summer weather, but the climate was very different from the one you used to enjoy while the gang was hiding in the Heartlands. You still loved this weather, especially when you had some time to look at the scenery which was surrounding you. Beautiful tall trees, a lake which appeared to be endless, some islands ahead of you… something about Clemens Point felt magical, if not even a little safe. Who would have guessed the Van der Linde gang was hiding here ? 

What made you feel even more safe was the tent you were sharing with Arthur, for a variety of reasons. You had been brought in the gang by Dutch after escaping the law following a minor bank robbery you had performed alone, somewhere back in 1893. Since the very first day you had spent with the rest of the gang, Arthur had displayed a lot of interest in being around you, from helping you to use a bow to spending time drawing by your side. Your rather friendly relationship slowly turned into a very awkward romance when Arthur gifted you with a large bouquet of wild flowers, dropping a kiss on your lips while watching the sunset from a hill. 

"I… I think I really like you." this single sentence he had told you made you go on an incredible journey of two outlaws being in love 

As of 1899, you and Arthur had been sharing his tent for about a year. You could easily remember him holding your hand while asking Dutch to move your cot to his quarters. Indeed, you had slept in Arthur’s tent on a variety of occasions : on rainy nights, when the weather was too cold, when someone of you was drunk, and, of course, when you wanted to have some fun. It had taken two days for Dutch to finally accept Arthur’s request, knowing that some of your nights would obviously not be as quiet as his… and god knows how right he was !  

You rarely slept on your cot, mostly resting into Arthur’s embrace, getting up with the morning light and birds chirping around you. However, that day, instead of peacefully waking up with the light from the outside passing between your tent’s flaps, Arthur’s continuous sneezes and soft coughs had dragged you out of your well-deserved rest. Being on guard duty all day long doing mostly nothing was boring… and somewhat tiring. You had chosen to sleep on your cot that night as you went to rest earlier than the rest of the gang. 

"Ugh…" you sighed, shifting from your cot 

You stretched and made your way to Arthur’s bed, triggered by the sound of his sneezes. You could remember him coming back one day ago from a journey to Ambarino which had lasted for two days. Since Arthur came back, you could easily hear him cough quite often, at any time of the day. The sneezing had started to occur last night, much to your biggest dismay as you just wished to get some sleep. 

"Arthur ?" you whispered 

Arthur’s eyes cracked open as he noticed you were standing nearby. He greeted you with a sweet smile, which caused you to put your frustration aside, melting from the inside as you placed your hand on his forehead. Thankfully enough, Morgan was not feverish. At least… not yet. 

"Did I wake you up ?" Arthur asked, a little confused 

"You’re sick." you sighed 

"No, I ain’t." 

You shook your head, asking Arthur to stand up to prove he was in good shape. He even proceeded putting his clothes on for you not to worry about him, causing you to smirk a little. Whenever you were sick, Arthur was always the one taking care of you. And, right at this moment, as he was getting sick himself, he proudly hid his illness behind his usual smile and rough voice. 

"See ? I’m fine." he said, leaving the tent

Arthur quickly headed out to chop some wood while you looked at him with a rather concerned expression. As far as you could recall, whenever Arthur was sick, there were at least two phases. The ‘No I’m fine’ phase, which was the one he usually displayed whenever he was starting to feel a little sick. He would still keep doing chores, going hunting and not even care about his health, overworking himself to please Dutch anytime he needed. 

The second one was the ‘I’m dying’ phase, which, as its name suggested, was triggered whenever Arthur felt horribly sick. During this phase, Arthur usually behaved like a man on his deathbed, begging for the mercy of whatever was above, crying like a child until the symptoms would slowly fade away. Indeed, you did not want Arthur to get to this phase because not only it was a pitiful sight for such man, but also because you already had some hard time acting serious when he was behaving like a young boy. 

For a few hours, you watched Arthur take care of some chores while minding your own business, up until Morgan stopped walking around and started coughing heavily. You watched him cough, nearly falling on his knees as you quickly carried a sack of grain to Pearson’s wagon. You quickly walked towards Arthur, who was slowly trying to breathe normally. 

"You okay ?" you asked

"I’m fine." Arthur answered in a rather weak way

"No you ain’t."

You moved closer to Arthur, raising your hand to touch his forehead, causing him to chuckle. Of course, Morgan was a tough man who did not need anyone’s help, and seeing you wanting to take care of him made him feel very amused by the situation. Yes, he was sick… and there was no need to hide it from you. 

"My god, your forehead is burning !" you gasped. "Get back to your tent !"

"Y/N, m’fine…-"

"To your tent, right now !" 

Arthur noticed how persuasive you were, causing him to chuckle, raising his hands in the air as you pushed him towards his tent, quickly informing both Dutch and Hosea, who were having a talk nearby, that their boy was sick was would not do anything today. They both knew Arthur was doing most of the work around camp, he definitely deserved some rest ! Especially being this sick ! 

"Oh, I’ll go make a Ginseng tonic !" Hosea said, quickly heading to his tent

"Are you sure you can handle this grumpy giant cowboy alone, dear Y/N ?" Dutch asked you, glancing at Arthur who was sitting on his cot grumbling something while crossing his arms and legs

"Don’t worry, Dutch." you smiled. "I’ll take care of your son !"

Dutch chuckled, watching you get to your tent before closing its flaps. The single view of Arthur, nearly pouting on his cot, his arms crossed on his chest and his feet drawing circles on the ground made you smile. What a funny sight it was to witness such a brawny man and well known cowboy with a bounty on his head behaving like a grumpy child who was refusing to get some rest ! 

"Take ‘em boots off, Morgan." you said 

"Y/N, I ain’t gonna stay in my tent all day long, the others need me." 

"You’re staying here. The others can take care of some chores for a day, you’re staying in this tent." 

"But I…-"

"I said you’re staying in this tent. Now take your boots and pants off." 

Arthur grumbled and obliged, calmly removing his boots. He loved taking care of you, he absolutely enjoyed having you rest into his embrace, comfort you after some nightmares you had, watch over you whenever you were feeling sick… but was not used being taken care of. He was a grown man who did not even need anyone’s help. Having such a beautiful lady like you watching over him made him feel both awkward and incredibly good, even if he was to proud to say it. He proceeded removing his gun belt and satchel while staring at you with a defiant smile. 

"Wanna see me naked, sweetheart ?" he smirked

"No, just take your pants off." 

You helped Arthur removing his suspenders and pants, leaving him in his union suit. You carefully passing your hands on his shoulders, wiping away some dirt while pushing him on his cot. He did not even dare showing any signs of resistance, laying down his bed with a sigh as his head rested on a pillow which was once yours. 

"M’fine, Y/N, I swear." he sighed 

"You ain’t a good liar with me. I’ll go get some blankets." 

"This is humiliatin’…" 

Arthur’s words made you shiver, causing you to sit beside him. How could he believe being sick was humiliating when probably every single human being could catch a cold ? You placed your hand on his burning head, letting out a soft sigh before looking into his green orbs. 

"It ain’t. You’re sick, and it happens. You’re spending so much time trying to do chores, doing hunting, doing bounties, robbing places… just for us to survive. Now, allow yourself to rest for a bit. You deserve it." 

"But the others…-" 

"The others will be just fine. Close your eyes and get some rest. I’ll come back to check on you." 

Despite not agreeing with you, Arthur closed his eyes as you gently covered him with one of his blankets. You looked at his grumpy face with a little smirk, listening to him grumbling a few words in his three-days beard before leaving the tent to do some chores around camp. What a literal child Arthur was to act like this ! You often wondered how Hosea, Dutch and Ms. Grimshaw had managed to take care of him back when he was a young boy, especially knowing that Arthur’s behaviour once used to be similar to Sean’s. 

You came back to check on Arthur after taking care of some chores, being given Hosea’s tonic. His eyes cracked open as soon as you walked back inside the tent. He rose on his elbows, getting you with one of his absolutely amazing smiles. You would have killed for this smile, definitely. They were so genuine and worth it… and Arthur was the most handsome man you knew ! 

"Did you get some sleep ?" you smiled 

"No." Arthur shook his head. "I ain’t gonna sleep in the middle of the day like that. I ain’t lil' Jack to take naps. "

"Arthur… You take care of me when I’m sick, lemme do the same for you. I brought you Hosea’s tonic." 

You walked closer to Arthur’s cot and sat next to him, pouring a very strange coloured liquid into his tint cup. Hosea had told you about its ingredients, but you did not expect such a yellowish tone… and awful smell. At first sight, it really looked like some snake oil, and the terrible scent coming from it did not help at all. 

"I ain’t drinkin’ that." Arthur chuckled. "It smells like cat piss."

"Arthur, please." you smiled back 

"Ugh… fine." 

Arthur swallowed the tonic in one go, coughing as he quite disliked its taste, nearly throwing up as he felt this strange liquid go down his throat. He knew that taste and that smell, it wasn’t the first time Hosea was making him a tonic. He had spent a vast majority of his teenage years drinking a variety of them, getting sick quite often. He could remember most of them, but the Ginseng tonic was probably the one he had drank the most throughout his time in the gang. 

"My god, it tastes terrible !" Arthur gagged 

"Yep, but Hosea says it’s the best for you !" 

According to Hosea, this tonic would put Arthur back on his feet in no time. You trusted Matthews’ expertise, having watched him carefully mix the Ginseng’s petals with some water and some gold berries you had brought him a day earlier. Just like Arthur, you also had the opportunity to drink some of these tonics throughout your life with the gang… enough for you to feel a vast amount of compassion as you watched Arthur struggle with his drink. 

"Now get some rest, Arthur." you smiled. "I’ll be back in a few hours, I just need to help Pearson cook the stew and finishing sewing my dress." 

Arthur did not respond, only watching you going out of the tent, sighing as he closed his eyes once more. He could not escape ! Arthur started dozing off after a few seconds, listening to Dutch and Molly arguing nearby his tent, to Sean’s terrible jokes by the crate of whiskey, and to an attempt of Bill to bond with Kieran over a bottle of beer. Something made him feel relaxed, the way you took care of him made him feel relaxed. He secretly adored it, despite not mentioning it. 

You came back a few hours later, as promised, having sent Dutch, Hosea and Tilly to look for Arthur every thirty minutes or so to make sure he was still fine. As you came back inside the tent, you found Arthur groaning, sweating so heavily that your heart nearly stopped at the sight of this poor man in such pain. 

"Oh my god, Arthur… how do you feel ? What hurts ?" 

You helped Arthur up, softly taking off his sweat-soaked union suit. You wanted to make it quick, and Arthur’s wobbly arms did not help at all. He groaned a little when you tried taking his arms out of his shirt, feeling an intense pain coming from the back of his head. You managed to take out some old cloth and plunged it into a bucket of cold water to wipe away some of Arthur’s sweat. 

"Head hurts…" he groaned 

"I know, sweetheart. I’ll just clean you up a little and you’ll lie down." 

"Sweetheart". You called him sweetheart, a word you never used to qualify him… Arthur was quick to give you some nicknames, from variations of your own name to pet names you adored. Your heart stopped beating for a second as you awaited Arthur’s response, being greeted with his sweet smile and painful sight, slowly passing the cloth on his shoulders.

"Lemme do this m’self, dove…" 

"Arthur, it’s not…-"

Arthur tried getting the wet cloth from your hands but ended up loosing balance. You quickly caught him before he would hit the ground, sighing as he whined, burying his head in the crook of your neck while his arms remained wobbly. How humiliating it was for him to be at your whole mercy ! Such a tough outlaw, skilled gunslinger… barely able to move his arms without whining like a sick child ! He was not fully himself, but somewhat happy to be taken care of.

"M’sorry…" he whispered. "I hate being like that…"

"It’s okay. Stay still for me, alright ?" 

"Sure…"

You were worried about Arthur’s health, but somewhat amused by what you were seeing at the moment. What a child… you knew that all men from the gang, no matter how tough they were, often behaved as if they were on their deathbeds whenever they were sick. A simple headache had led Bill to pretend he was dying, Dutch had once remained in his bed for three days because of a nasal congestion. You knew that Arthur was just a little sick at this moment, believing he was about to die too. 

"There you go." you said, passing the wet cloth over Arthur’s torso. "Let’s put on a new union suit." 

"I’m dying…" 

"No, you ain’t." 

Arthur used the last bits of energy he had to shrug. You quickly lifted his heavy legs up to get the bottom of his union suit off, not even bothering about him being naked. You had seen him undressed quite often, this wasn’t much of a discovery ! You wanted him dressed into something, that poor man was sick ! You carefully slipped a red union suit on him, buttoning it while Arthur looked at you. His eyes were half-closed, a soft smile was blooming on his face. You could easily tell he was not fully himself, just by the look he was giving you. 

"Are you hungry ?" you asked him, taking his face between your hands 

"I’d eat you raw, honeybee…" Arthur responded, his eyes twitching. "Maybe with some cranberry sauce, along with potatoes…" 

"Well… seems like you ain’t. Lay down." 

Arthur’s words made you blush, but his health was far too much important at the moment. He laid down, moaning as soon as his head touched his pillow. As you were on your way out of his tent to get him some stew, Arthur whined, causing you to shiver and turn back. He was looking at you, giving you a sick puppy glance, summoning enough energy to spread his arms wide for you to embrace him. 

"Don’ go…" he whimpered 

"Oh, Arthur…" 

You slowly walked back to his cot, your heart was fluttering as you could not even resist these puppy eyes. Arthur, even being so sick and probably a little needy, was still the charming man you adored. The most handsome man you had ever met, the sweetest gentleman gifting you with flowers, gems, antique alcohol bottles… who would have thought such an angelic-looking man was an outlaw and had blood on his hands ?

"Feeling needy, huh ?" you smiled, passing your hand through his sweaty hair 

"I’m gonna die…" Arthur whined. "Don’ leave me… I’m so sick…"

"I’ll be right back, sweetheart. I’ll come back with another tonic, wait for me." 

Arthur whined as he nuzzled his head into his pillow, allowing you to grab one of his blankets and cover him up to the shoulders. You passed your hand through his dirty blonde hair, causing him to smile a little before watching you leaving the tent. You nearly felt bad for leaving him ! You grabbed a bowl of stew and quickly ate it as Hosea gave you another of his tonics. 

"He must drink it before midnight, it will help him rest." Matthews told you as he gave you the bottle

"Alright. I’ll make sure of it." 

Hosea smiled and patted your shoulder before heading towards his bed made of a variety of different blankets, kissing the picture he had of his wife, laying down while keeping his eyes open for a moment. He watched you walk towards your tent, absolutely delighted to know his boy was having you around him. What a treasure you were for the gang, indeed ! So sweet, adorable and caring ! You headed back to your tent with Hosea’s tonic and were met with a rather pleasant sight.

"Oh." you smiled 

Arthur was asleep laying on his left side, facing the sunset. You slowly walked in to get a better glimpse of him, not even wanting to wake him up. He looked so peaceful, so sweet ! Who would have thought this good-looking man, having beautiful green orbs hidden under his eyelids and long eyelashes which could trigger anyone’s jealousy, had blood on his hands ? At first sight, nobody could have guessed Arthur was an outlaw rather than being just a really handsome man. What a shame that the only one not accepting his beauty was himself… 

While you were away from your tent, Arthur had battled to keep himself awake. He had pushed his pillow on the ground, not finding it comfortable enough, dragging the blanket over his body, then kicking it away, then dragging it back again. He was sleeping so peacefully that you did not even want to move the blanket a little over him. You smiled as you calmly sat by him, checking his temperature by kissing his forehead. 

"The fever’s gone…" you whispered

"Y/N ?…" Arthur mumbled

"No, no, sweetheart… go back to sleep…"

The soft sound of Arthur’s whine could be heard as his eyes cracked open. You expected to be met with a rather grumpy sight for interrupting his sleep but, as soon as his vision got clear enough to see what was around, Morgan smiled to you. Your sole presence had triggered a sudden happiness as he calmly took your hand and held it close to his chest. He liked it, he liked the way you took care of him. It felt good to have such an angel like you around, stitching up his wounds, giving him medicine, watching over him as he slept… he felt safe. 

You were melting, you felt butterflies fly in your belly as you kept analysing Arthur’s beautiful features and lovely smile. His usually green eyes had turned blue to the tears of pain he might have shed earlier, and due to this flu he had caught. What a handsome man he was ! Even with his high fever, dark rings under his eyes, sweaty hair… you could have given anything to prove him how handsome he was. Anything. Taking care of him while he was sick was giving you the perfect opportunity to enjoy his presence a little more, to admire this talented gunslinger and very skilled artist, whose large hands always came up with amazing and refined drawings. 

"Was dreamin’ of you…" he whispered 

"Oh ?" you smiled, gently caressing his hair. "What was I doing ?" 

"You’re wearin’ a white dress and a flower crown… and you’re singin’… that you loved me and all…" 

"Oh, did you like it ?" 

"Of course, ‘cause I love you…" 

This vast amount of butterflies could not stop flying in your belly, just this single sentence made your heart flutter. Arthur never truly voiced all his love for you, but being so tired and ill… his ‘introvert-filter’ was quick to disappear, as well as his overall grumpy behaviour. Arthur slowly rolled aside, patting his cot for you to lay down next to him. And, with such an adorable puppy glance, how could you refuse ? 

"Wait up, Arthur." you smiled. "Lemme just get my clothes off." 

It took you just a few seconds to take your shirt and skirt off, quickly laying next to Arthur who nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist while letting out a long and very relaxed moan. You chuckled as you felt his beard tickle you clavicles, his heavy breath getting slower and slower as he slowly dozed off in your embrace. 

"I love you too, silly man." you smiled, kissing his forehead  

Arthur moaned in return, making you smile as his grip on your waist tightened, passing your hands in his hair, caressing his skin, dropping a few subtle kisses on his forehead. What a man you had here, what a peculiar feller ! A literal bear whenever he was doing fine, but a young child whenever he was sick. You did not mind, you loved him for what he was, you loved him entirely. And you would nurse him back to health, whatever the price was. You did not care about getting sick yourself, Arthur’s recovery mattered the most at the moment. 

Nothing else mattered. 

[patrice-bergerons]

Hello 👋 I am the anon who asked about the barrister au.

I must know more if you're willing! 🤗

What was the night like when Francis asked James for help with Neptune? Was that the night they became "friends" with each other?

Also, in the fic, James got very sick. How long did he remain sick, and did Francis take care of him the whole time? Did he make him soup? That would be so cute!

Would love to hear about the conspiring against the rave neighbor, that sounds great

And lastly for this ask, when do they kiss for the first time ? Fake boyfriends and misunderstandings? Or something more intentional ?

Thanks again for answering!

BOOp 🐾

BOOPS YOU RIGHT BACK 🐾 Anon I'm thrilled by how much you like this au and the way you continue to indulge me 🥰 I just got out of the office (at 11.45pm!) and this ask is like a balm for my tired soul.

I'm hoping to actually right about the great fitzier scheme against rave throwing penthouse neighbour this weekend and I will pull the wait and see card re the first kiss (because I have PLANS) but let me talk about the other two, starting with Neptune:

First off I must say that these two are so stubborn and stupid they won't acknowledge the fact that they are friends until some time after the inadvisable sex.

But the night Neptune gets sick, it's very late, Francis has had too much to drink such that he can't quite plan how to call an uber let alone find where the nearest vet is.

He does not like James (at all, not even a little bit) but his dog is sick and James is the only person he can go to at that hour, so he does. James also has a car (Francis makes fun of him for being the only person who drives in London) which in an emergency is a real plus.

James cannot stand Francis either, BUT for one he still owes Francis from all those years ago, and even if he didn't — and even if he will not admit this to himself — he wouldn't turn down anyone who showed up at his door at that door looking so distraught.

So he finds an emergency vet hospital with good reviews and drives Francis and poor Neptune there. Neptune idk ate some plastic or what not and needs emergency surgery.

Francis is distraught—and drunk. It's truly unbecoming. And yet...for the reasons listed above, James finds himself distracting him, probably by miring him in an argument about case law or a past ruling until he no longer seems to be on the very edge of a panic attack.

And the thing is. Those two can talk for hours. When they sit down and stop hissing and growling at one another — which only happened once before, when James was going thru the horrors in that coffeeshop — conversation flows between them seemingly without bound. They challenge each other and often disagree but it never once gets boring.

Ultimately Neptune makes it and is fine. You would think this experience would bring them closer but James is kind of a dick about it, Francis is too ashamed of himself, and when James sees his chance to instigate that bar fight, he does not even blink. So it leaves them worse off than where they started lol 😆

Re James being sick, one part of me did want him to have to be taken to the A&E but we shall save the hospital h/c for a little later heh. The paracetamol works and he is fine by the morning. He finds Francis asleep on his sofa and has no feelings at all about this.

It's also very important to me in this verse that James is scary good at cooking and baking whereas Francis can barely fry eggs without burning them — so any soup Francis made for him, James would probably consider to be nuclear waste lol 😅 I really want Francis to get a cold at some point though and James to extend his hand dangling a bag with a tupperware of soup inside as far away from his body as possible at the door while holding a handkerchief to his face because he does not want Francis’s germs, thank you very much 😆 (but their walls are too thin and Francis has a sneeze that's loud enough to wake the dead, anyone would take pity!)

[kirk-says-wah]

𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

want to read the whole thing? You can find it here

Masterlist

Pairing: James/Lars

TW: end of the world, zombies, character death, blood and gore, loss of sanity, suicidal thoughts, smut

Lars’ face is bruised. James’ hands hurt.

They’re on the shoreline, the beach not too far away. James can smell salt in the air. Lars’ hand hasn’t left his in a while.

They walk a little slow, James’ chest making crackling noises, his face puffy and red, but he won’t stop until they can’t keep going.

They’re walking along the main road when the sound of gunfire bursts his eardrums, and he turns in time to see some army dudes running at them.

Lars lets go of his hand, and James holds his hands up, tries to tell them they’re still living. They’re still alive.

Sneezes. Wipes a hand under his nose.

Mistake.

The bullets rip through the air, and James ducks.

“Stop,” he yells, but it’s no use, the bullets raining down on them. They must think James is sick. They must think he’s turning into a stiff.

He runs, runs and runs and he can’t see Lars where’s Lars oh fuck where’s-

White hot pain tears through his shoulder and he cries out, stumbling.

He blinks back the haze in his eyes enough to drop behind a parked car, and then the world falls away and he passes out.

— —

Through the ringing in his ears he can hear shouting, and he pries his sticky eyes open to see a familiar face, frantic.

Theres a slap to his cheek.

He’s being shaken.

He smacks his lips together, dazed, his shoulder pulsing in time with his head.

“James, look at me.”

James’ eyes slide to Lars’ blurry face, takes in the angles of him, the panic in his eyes.

“James-“ a slap. “James.”

James groans, a hand flying up to his shoulder, but it’s batted away. He goes to say something but Lars shakes his head, chin darting upwards when there’s a noise from behind them.

“We need to move.”

A hand comes around James’s waist, but James pushes against it. He doesn’t want to get up, he wants to puke.

“Hey,” Lars hisses, a bruising grip on James’s chin.

“I need you to do this,” he says. “For me.”

James nods, bobbing his head like he’s drunk, and Lars swallows.

James helps this time when Lars tries to get him to stand, uses the car they’ve been sheltering behind as a crutch, and Lars is whispering a mantra of keep going James cmon James you can do this.

He follows Lars’ lead, slumped to one side. Theres still the echoing sounds of gunfire from up ahead, but James hardly processes it. All he can feel is the bullet that’s lodged itself in the thick muscle of his shoulder and Lars’ small body keeping him up.

“Keep going, James,” Lars whispers, continuing to drag him along. They start to pick up speed after a minute, but James’ legs aren’t cooperating and he’s slanting listlessly to the side, and Lars is trying his best to hold on, to keep him upright, to keep him going.

James isn’t sure how long they run but soon Lars is pushing him through a doorway and suddenly the light dims, the sun blocked as they enter into a small building.

James can just about make out the colourful array of surfboards stacked up front before he’s being hurriedly pushed to the floor, scrambling behind the counter. His head smacks against the wall, and his breath steals itself from his chest, like he’s breathing in carbon monoxide and methane, suffocating from the inside out as his shoulder jolts.

“Hold still.”

A hand presses into the wound and he keens, legs kicking out, spasming as the pain sings in his nerve endings. He’s breathing harshly, and a hand smooths over his sweaty forehead.

“It’s okay,” Lars breathes, panting, leans forwards to press his forehead against James’. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

James sucks in a breath, feels the hot air hit his lungs, and his shoulder feels like someone’s poking him with a branding iron, pushing it right down to the bone.

Everything seems foggy and distorted but he trusts Lars. He knows Lars is his salvation. That he holds his life in his hands.

Lars says nothing, as usual, presses his hand into the wound in James’ shoulder. James hisses, head thrown back with gritted teeth, and Lars just shushes him, uses his free hand to gently smooth over James’ matted hair.

“Everything’s okay,” he says. “Everything’s fine.”

The pressure on it relents for a moment, and Lars pulls away, lifts up one of James’ leaden arms, places it over his aching shoulder.

“Keep that there,” Lars murmurs, and it takes James a moment to realise he’s holding his own jacket to the wound. It throbs under the fabric, and a wounded noise emits from his throat, eyes squeezing shut.

Lars shushes him, cups his cheek tenderly.

“It’s okay,” he reiterates softly.

James blearily blinks his eyes open, breathing deeply as clarity starts to ebb and weave into his consciousness.

Lars pulls away sharply, sucks in a breath. Theres the sound of a fist driving into the counter in front of them, and James lolls his head to the side. Lars has got his eyes scrunched shut, bruises still bright over his cheeks, hands pulling in the seam of his hair, and James thinks back to the gunfire, how he’d ran, how Lars had been behind him. How Lars wasn’t with him when he’d fallen behind the car.

“What- did they get you?” he says, eyes raking over Lars’s form sat opposite him.

Lars opens his eyes, and they’re glassy, almost coherent, or at least a lot more lucid than he has been. Lars gives a small lopsided grin and sniffs, leans forwards to press a kiss to James’ dry lips.

“Get some rest.”

James hums, though he’s not sure how much resting he’s gonna do with a hole in his shoulder.

He pulls the matted fabric away, sees the wound still dribbling blood. He huffs, covers it again with his jacket, lets his head hit the wall as he closes his eyes.

A hand works its way into the one laying in his lap, squeezes gently.

— —

When he wakes up, consciousness comes slowly, and it’s not until he’s rubbed at his eyes that he becomes violently aware that he’s alone.

The jacket is abandoned in his lap, and he angles his head to see that his shoulder isn’t really bleeding anymore, just a stain of coagulated blood.

He frowns, tries to peer over the counter, but there’s still no one in sight. It’s starting to get dark, the sun low as it casts a brilliant orange over the shop.

“Lars?” he asks quietly, waiting with baited breath for a response.

One that doesn’t come.

He uses his backpack that’s beside him to help get him onto his knees and the world tilts on its axis.

He groans, his good arm coming up to his chest as he wills the urge to throw up back down into his sneakers.

“Lars?” he says again, louder now, rocking as his knee caps protest and his shoulder starts to heat up.

He shuffles forwards, past the counter. The shop seems to be more or less unscathed, like the owner locked up one day and just never came back.

His hand darts out, braces himself on the counter as he sways, panic starting to pull him in quicker than a tidal wave.

“Lars!”

“What?”

He jumps, turns his head to see Lars sat behind him, where he’d been the last time James had his eyes open.

“Where were you?” James says, finally letting himself gingerly fall back on his ass, propped up against the wall.

Lars frowns at him like he’s going nuts, smooths a hand over his thigh.

“I’ve been with you this whole time.”

And James wants to say no you haven’t because he could’ve sworn he was alone. He wants to say no you haven’t because Lars wasn’t the first thing he saw when he woke up.

He doesn’t say that though, just grunts an affirmative.

Lars doesn’t acknowledge that, but he reaches over James, pulls the backpack next to them onto James’ lap.

“I’m gonna need you to patch yourself up,” he says, unzips the bag, diving in for whatever medical supplies they have on hand.

“What?” James says, “why?”

“I just- I can’t- fuck,” is Lars’s answer, a hand coming up to press into his eye socket .

James blinks, and Lars looks away, sniffing.

James decides Lars isn’t going to be much help, and he stuffs his good arm into his bag, manages to find some gauze and some duct tape. That’ll have to do.

“Just press it against your shoulder,” Lars mumbles, turning back to him now, leaving his hand on James’ thigh.

James does just that, hissing at the pressure. It makes him feel woozy, all the blood rushing to his head, and he thinks he hears Lars telling him to keep going but he can’t be sure.

He gets it over and done with within a matter of minutes, but he feels like he’s gonna puke, and black dots dance their way into his vision.

“Just sleep,” Lars says when he notices James’ eyes drooping.

James shakes his head, because he doesn’t feel all that safe here, even when Lars says they are.

But Lars just pushes his chest back gently, strokes over James’ jaw.

“It’s okay, James,” he says, and James, mistakenly, believes him.

— —

“Is there anybody there?”

The crackly sound of the radio jumps to James’ ears, pulling him out of a lulled state, and his head lolls to the side, sees Lars asleep with his head on his shoulder.

“Hello?”

The radio is loud in the shop, the voice tinny but recognisable, and James scrambles for the plastic operator in his bag, trying not to jostle Lars awake, his shoulder making it hard to move.

“Is there anybody there?”

“Kirk?” James breathes, slamming on the button before letting go, the static going haywire as he holds the radio to his mouth with a shaky grip.

“James, is that you? Fuck man it’s good to hear from you,” Kirk’s laugh is light over the radio, and James can feel relief settle deep in his bones. “Are you okay?”

James clears his throat, rubs the radio against his chin for a moment. Lars is breathing deeply, soft puffs of air landing on James’s bicep. James wishes he could use his other hand to just touch him, just to hold him, but his damaged shoulder means moving his left arm is near impossible right now.

“Yeah I’m good,” he finally says, though it sounds feigned even to his own ears. He doesn’t bother asking Kirk the same question when he knows he’ll probably get the same answer.

“Where are you?” Kirk asks, his voice dipping in and out, muffled but still audible.

James sucks in a breath, adjusting slightly, feeling Lars nudge his nose into his arm.

“Ocean Beach,” he says, lazily looking around, noting the surf boards and the shells and the trinkets. “Some surf shop.”

“You need to get to San Jose,” Kirk says, sounds adamant. “There’s a refuge there. They’re taking in everyone.”

“San Jose?” James asks, quirking an eyebrow. Lars mumbles next to him, and James peers down to see his eyelashes fluttering.

“Yeah man,” Kirk says before a sharp noise is driven through the static, and James flinches

Theres a few murmuring sounds before Kirk speaks again.

“I’ve gotta go. Stay alive.”

And with that, he’s gone.

James sticks his tongue into his back teeth and shoves the radio back into his bag, his shoulder twinging with the movement.

He realises, almost desperately, that maybe they’ve been going in the wrong direction all along.

Maybe they could’ve been saved.

He knows now they can’t stay here. He needs to reach safety. He needs to feel like they’re not alone.

His shoulder stings and his clothes are stained and Lars is - - well, Lars isn’t anything James wants him to be, like he’s corporeal, a spectre James is sure he could put his hand through. Like he’s empty, abandoned.

He lets his head fall back against the wall, his eyes wet, and Lars looks up at him, must have woken up to James’ shuddering breaths.

Lars looks at him questioningly, and James chokes on a sob.

“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” he says, hiccups, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

Lars brings shaky fingers to James’ jaw, his other hand curling around his wrist.

“Everything’s okay, Jamie.”

James shakes his head, his heart pulsing behind his eyes, mouth dry as he sobs.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Lars wipes away his tears, traces the outline of his face.

“You can, James,” he says. “You can. It’ll be okay.”

James looks at him, looks at him properly, and he can tell this is the end.

His chest heaves, sticky and stifling, and his shoulder is on fire, and he knows they’ve reached the conclusion.

He manages to get to his feet, rests his palm against the counter as he wills his knees to straighten.

Lars hovers, watching James cautiously, and James sniffs, wipes away the tears clouding his vision.

“I love you,” he says.

Lars doesn’t reply, and James doesn’t expect him too.

And so he leaves, stumbling, gun in hand,the same way he came in; the same way he’s been for a while.

Alone.

[pixelatedraindrops]

I actually linked these illnesses to the characters traits in a way. Allow me to explain~🌡️

Yuma: I usually give Yuma high fevers to connect to all the times he hold his head and looks pale in the game due to stress fear or just flat out despair. (plus, he’s my top target, so of course I give him my favorite category of illness xD) The only sickness that can include a high fever without it being life-risking is the flu. So yeah. We all know he’s a frail little wet cat. He’d have a highest fever out of all of them. As well as other flu symptoms such as sneezing, coughing, body aches, and an upset stomach. (Poor thing would pretty much have everything… x’D)

Yakou: I gave him a stomach bug to connect to what happens in chapter 1 when Yuma cooks for him the first time. He practically ends up sick after eating it. Another thing? He drinks. He’s probably not new to hangovers and post drunk consequences. I feel like this illness suits him most for that reason. Plus it may give him the strength to still try and take care of everyone else. He still has the responsibility of chief. Just making frequent trips to the bathroom between the caretaking... ^^;

Halara: Halara already has allergies with cats, but what if they got so flared up that they had a hard time breathing? It’d basically be no different than having an awful cold. Idk if you can get fever’s from allergies but they’d be in rough shape regardless. But they’d probably try to still remain composed.

Desuhiko: I connected him having Laryngitis to his loudness and also him wanting to be a star. What if he sang too much that he blows out his larynx, losing his voice? Then ended up getting worse and every time he tries to talk too much, breaks out in a dry coughing fit. He has to wear a mask and eventually use a whiteboard or notebook to communicate with others.

Fubuki: I connected Fubuki’s condition to the use of her forte. What if she turned time back too far, resulting in her becoming very fatigued and it lasting the whole day? She’d be panting and unable to move much without getting bouts of vertigo to the point of collapsing. The ongoing dizzying feeling and fever also make her very delirious and makes her a bit of a cuddle fiend lol

Vivia: Do I really need to explain this one? He’s such an expert at forgetting to eat and drink. What if he does it so frequently that he becomes ill? And it gets to a point that eating and drinking becomes so hard that he ends up vomiting. He spends most of the time sleeping, but Yakou has to try to force him to drink water every now and again, even if it means he suffers the consequences. (It’s likely he may need to visit a hospital if it gets too bad, poor Vivi ;-;)

Kurumi: I didn’t really connect her condition to anything, so her being the outsider of the group I just gave her a basic choice. Maybe when she hears the whole nocturnal detective agency is sick, she tries to help by bringing a care package of food water and medicine, but in the process she ends up sick herself. With her head and nose stuffed, throat sore, and frequently dizziness from a low fever. Maybe a virus is spreading all over the city? Who knows. Point is, she’d end up joining the sickly sleepover at the base with everyone else. She’d be happy being with all her friends despite being as miserable as them the whole time. She'd probably volunteer to help Yakou take care of everyone since her condition isn't as bad as the others but she still takes time to rest too.

Tbh this scenario would probably make for a good sickfic XD It’d probably be both wholesome and chaotically comical.

The NDA afflicted with different illness 😷 + sprites :3

Yuma: Influenza/High Fever

Yakou: Stomach Virus

Halara: Bad Allergies

Desuhiko: Laryngitis

Fubuki: High Fatigue/Dizziness

Vivia: Severe Anemia/Dehydration

Kurumi: Common Cold

~

[flower-of-zaun]

Vampire/Demon OC or AU x Silco Inspired by In My Room by ICP

“She's demonic and bloody but she holds me tight”

(ICP gets a bad rep but hear me out.)

Young Silco meets a creature before the betrayal.

The creature of the Lanes was a thing of legend, but knows it’s real.

It tried to feed from him while he was drunk and walking home.

They are terrifyingly beautiful. It pinned him, instead of fighting he got lost in their glowing eyes.

It saw this scrawny little man, hissed and let him go, leaving Silco confused.

He thought he was really drunk, couldn’t stop thinking about the creature, went back to the alley of the attack for a few nights.

Sadly couldn’t find them, but it followed him home.

Little taps at the window, he looked up to see the same glowing eyes.

Silco let’s it in, it was tense. They exchanged a few words before it left.

Starts becoming a nightly thing. Talking all night and gone just before sunrise. They stay at opposite sides of the room and talk. It’s voice is odd. It seems to come and go with the wind. Over time they start becoming closer.

Silco falls in love with this odd being. It feels the same. They bond over many things. He loves to hear it’s eerie giggles, they echo around the room. They cuddle and the creature is cold, Silco finds it comforting…he knows when it’s gone because the bed is warm.

When Silco was wounded by Vander, he fled to the deepest parts of the fissures. Away from the light of day. The creature finds him.

It tries to heal the eye, but it’s too far gone. It tries. Laying with him until he gets better. Silco wakes up one day, finally better, the creature is gone.

It doesn’t return for a long time. Only popping back up every few months. Every time he begs it to stay. It can’t. It can’t be found. Silco is hurt, but understand.

This goes on for years, visits aren’t as frequent. He is happy to see it whenever it finally does come back.the creature never grows old, but enjoys seeing Silco grow into a refined gentleman. The creature is actually younger than him by a few years, it’s only newly immortal.

The creature protects Silco. Even during shading dealings, it’s hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce.

Silco and Sevika survived the factory explosion because of the creature.

Once he took over the Lanes and the last drop, Silco told the creature that it no longer had to hide. He could provide a safe haven for it to rest during the day. He pleads, bringing up that they have known each other for years and would never cause harm.

Has a room next to his office for them. There are heavy shutters on the window along with a thick curtain. They spend some nights together, most of his work is conducted at night. No one is allowed in that room. Not even Jinx.

Has heavy curtains in his office so they can see each other during the day. It helps the creature feel normal to walk around while people are actually awake.

The creature doesn’t always stay there, but it’s back to seeing Silco daily.

Absolutely helps with his empire. Shimmer shipments, intimidating people, bribes…and more intense work 🗡

Now there’s a rumor that Silco has employ demon…they aren’t wrong but it’s overdramatized.

They are loyal to one another. Their relationship is strange but the love is pure. They are both overly protective of one another.

Emotionally crippled but also CLINGY. The both of them

They do go on dates together. They are both terrifying looking, so they get lots of strange looks. The both of them love scaring the shit out of people.

It loves Jinx

Jinx doesn’t like it much because it reminds her of hallucinations. The creature has to be more human in Jinx’s presence. No melting into the shadows or moving to quickly.

Jinx as 10000% shot at it out of curiosity.

Sevika hates it. Mean lady is very superstitious.

Sevika saw the creature sneeze once and is now scared for life. Won’t talk about what they saw. Silco just chuckles and says “it’s not that scary.”

Chembarons act right when it’s around. They now try to have meetings during the day. Finn wants to stick his dick in it out of curiosity. Fear boner @ 100%

NSFW

sex was like a fever dream to Silco the first few times.

It’s orgasms make the bed shake

Demons are freaky and flexible

Claws have torn up Silco’s back AND the bed sheets

It’s moans echo, it drives him mad.

They both get feral in and out of the bedroom.

Silco calls it “my little succubus/incubus”, they fucking love it.

Levitating sex?

They fall asleep together after. 

[the-frozen-pheonix]

“Enjoy yourself Autumn. We’re fine for tonight now. Trust me. I didn’t have to use the detonator so it’s fine to let your guard down for awhile.” Freeze’s voice assured the bodyguard, before he and the others at the bar had more tequila shots lined on the bar. 2. 4. 8. In a matter of 6 minutes, the CEO’s, Freeze, and the son, had all decided to play liver-failure-roulette. Bystanders fawned in awe, or cheered the group on as things progressed.

In the experience of Freeze; Here we go from tequila to vodka, mixed drinks, body shots, ties on head, why is my head constricted? Where’s my pants? Did Autumn see me do that backflip? Why does my neck hurt? Toes bleeding. I’m shirtless in the vineyard. Is that the girl who orgasmed when I threatened everyone with a detonator? “I HAVE A BIRD. It’s an eagle.” It’s claws are in my skin. Where’s my shirt? Autumn? “Watch out, the bird bites.” The bird is drunk I named it Janissary because I forgot what the first month of the year was called. I’m being carried. Why is there fire? Dad, why is he wearing the family wendigo skull? I thought that was in South Africa. Do I smell blood? When did I end up in the Catalonian side of Spain? Gotta get back. Gotta pee. Peeing. Don’t fall over. Do not step in the pee. Someone’s coming. Don’t let them see you peeing. Autumn! “Your hair looks really nice.” Good choice. Where’s your shoes Autumn? Don’t step there. We should get out of this castle and back to the manor-the cannibals nearly ate my dick last time. No cocaine, only caffeine. Oh, it’s mixed? Let me wash it down with rum. I’ll try it. Whooop there goes all snot in my nose. Sneezing fit. What time is it? Why is the sky still dark. “Apocalypse? Oh no wrong Time zone.” “Jack Daniel’s is a safe and healthy alternative to water when benching three hundred and-how much does she weight again?-okay four hundred and eleven pounds.” How did I get glass stuck in my left forearm? Ooh what’s this syringe filled with? adrenaline. Love the stuff. One shot. Playing keep away are we now mister EMT? I used to play football! Woohoo-two shot three shots fou-“oh fuck!”

A now very Sober Freeze was staring directly at Autumn and the priest. The priest was crying without sobbing, just tears as he looked at Freeze, and he was holding 6 syringes, empty. “That’s a lot of adrenaline… I knocked out the medic didn’t I?” He spoke softly and chuckled. “I need a blood transfusion. O negative or positive. Need 2 saline solutions from the ambulance the EMT came from, need a whole case of bottled water and bread….” As he turned, his eyes met with a random girl who seemed dazed. “And you, come massage my back-am I naked?” He blinked and looked down before sighing in relief. “Nope, still wearing panties-why am I wearing panties. Where’s my underwear?”

As the dazed girl moved over to massage Freeze, she softly spoke. “You were naked. I have you those to help.” To which the eccentric nodded and sighed. “Got it.” Then looked to Autumn and the priest. “Get to it your holiness.” He spoke to the priest, then to Autumn. “You’ve got a pocket knife, right?”

Airplane to Spain (Closed Rp with @autumn-the-punk)

@autumn-the-punk

Light blues that matched the ocean below skimmed a Manila folders contents. A dossier of some sort. The soft hum of the private jets engines were good white noise for the snoozing tailor in the far corner of the interior.

Amidst the eccentrics current entourage, there was; the African American nanny that seemed to do the primary duties immediately present for the blonde-clothing and assisting and what not; the Italian tailor in a nicer suit that the currently bored, and well dressed patron; a nondescript priest; and the green haired body guard-whose attention was being requested. Earlier, the whole group had been making conversation, but the moment the nanny and the priest had gone to chat and eat in the closed kitchenette, the tailor had decided ear muffs and a blindfold were the nicest thing that day, and left Freeze to his information, and Autumn to do as she pleased…. Till now.

“Autumn, we need to talk. Come hither Greenbean.” The owner of the plane called for his bodyguard, eyes not moving from the dossier until a sound was heard or he saw her in his periphery. Across from him, there were open seats, but the one next to him was occupied by his own items and blazer.

[missymurphy1985]

The Mistake - Part 10 (Cillian Murphy X fem!reader)

Warnings - new baby

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton @jardinsecos @bitchwhytho @gypsy-girl-08

The sound of crying woke you up around 9pm, and you felt confused.

Then the memory of the day before hit you...

Lifting your aching body up, you looked to your right to see the little crib next to your hospital bed was empty. Looking up, you saw Cillian - bare chested, holding the small wriggly bundle in his arms, trying to soothe him.

"I think he's hungry?" He turned, looking at you.

You both chuckled watching the baby trying to latch onto Cillian's nipples, and reached out for him. Taking him in your arms, you tried to remember what Alice, your midwife, had taught you when you fed him earlier. Let him find it, let him latch, leave him to take what he needs.

You winced as he fed from you, the sting of this new sensation was so alien to you.

"Still can't believe it," Cillian smiled, watching his son. In the whirlwind of the last few hours, you barely had time to talk since his birth. In-between sleep, doctors checking you, and feeding, it had all become a bit of a crazy blur. Thankfully, the benefit of having Cillian's private healthcare meant he was able to stay with you, he'd sleeping in a separate bed by the window of your room tonight so you wouldn't be alone.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know, I really didn't..."

"You don't need to apologise for anything y/n. I know you didn't know. I called Pad while I was out getting your things, he thought I was having him on!"

"I bet."

"He needs a name, don't you think?"

"I have no idea... Most people have nine months to plan all of this..."

"We'll figure it out. One step at a time eh?"

You felt a tear running down your cheek and nodded, and smiled as your son finished feeding. A 'milk-drunk' expression on his little face making Cillian chuckle.

He took him from you, allowing you to cover back up and sit up properly. You couldn't help but feel emotional at the sight of him cradling this small, helpless little being he'd created. Stroking his back, holding him as close to his chest as possible, chuckling when his chest hair made him sneeze milk over him.

"Gotta get used to that I guess," he smiled, laying the small bundle back in his crib, wrapping the blanket back over him as he slept.

He moved across to the other side of the bed and nudged you over to climb in next to you, wrapping his arms around you.

"What do we do now?" He asked, resting his cheek on your head.

"I don't know... I really don't know. I can't process it all. One minute we're getting back together, taking it slow, the next we're parents..."

"I think the taking it slow ship has sailed, don't you?"

"I'm scared of being on my own.."

"On your own?"

"When we get home and it's just me and him... I don't know what I'm doing? What if I drop him? Or if I don't hear him in the night? Or I feed him too much or too little?"

"I've babysat Sile's kids often enough, and my siblings are all younger than me."

"What do you mean?"

"We made a baby together, we raise him together. I'm not asking you to marry me, but move in with me at least? We can help each other get to grips with it all."

************************************************************

You'd been discharged from hospital at 2pm the following day, after a night of barely any sleep. If you weren't feeding, you were staring at the sleeping baby, trying to come to terms with it all.

How you were going to cope.

Who was going to run your Veterinarian Practice.

What were your families going to think? They didn't even know you were together now, never mind back then...

"Are you okay?" He asked, when he came back - he had been down to Cork city to grab a travel system so he could drive you all home. He'd even managed to build it all before coming back into your hospital suite.

"Alice helped..." He laughed, as you placed your son inside the car seat, looking at the straps like it was something from the Krypton Factor...

Luckily Alice was on hand again, showing you how it all worked. She even walked down to Cillian's car and helped you with the IsoFix base, how to clamp him into the car. She pulled you to one side alone.

"Listen, I know this has all been a huge shock - take my number. I'm here for you 24/7. You need anything, you call me, okay?"

You nodded, taking her number, and climbed into the car next to the baby.

Cillian smiled at you as he climbed in and started the engine, and you gave him a smile back.

Enough of a smile to hide behind.

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: three years later and yoongi is still very much in love with y/n

according to my period tracking app i’m due in four days so that explains why i felt the sudden urge to sit down and write this 

also i had to go back and read the wedding drabble to double-check a minor detail and.,,.., barfs i am so sorry for all of the ceo!drabbles the writing is so tragic 

i hope u enjoy this small product of my sappiness <3 

➺ pairing; ceo!yoongi x y/n  

➺ genre; idk just very sappy and gooey and if ur a ceo!couple stan ur going to love this 

➺ wordcount; 1.4k

                                        »»————-　💞　————-««

the first thing yoongi finds especially odd when he steps into the penthouse is the fact that it’s a little too quiet for his liking

he purses his lips as he shuts the door behind him, blindly turning the lock with a quiet click as he looks around

sure, it’s almost midnight, but you’re usually tinkering around in the kitchen for a snack or watching netflix on the couch whenever he comes home late... so where are you now? 

he’s about to call out for you when he suddenly remembers that hwayoung’s definitely fast asleep by this hour and that you’d murder him in cold blood if he accidentally woke her up and ruined her sleeping schedule (she gets very grouchy when she’s not following a set schedule - and yoongi knows her sour morning attitude was probably inherited from him but he sleeps more peacefully at night thinking that it’s because of one of your genes) 

yoongi places his keys on the top of the shoe cabinet quietly before reaching down to yank his laces loose

“woah.” he holds his hands out to keep himself steady after he stands up too quickly and his head starts to spin and he starts to see double 

oof 

maybe he should’ve slowed down with the wine at dinner

it’s not his fault he’s so weak for a good red!

“shower time, showah time…” yoongi murmurs to himself as he makes his way up the spiral staircase, gripping onto the railings tightly so that he doesn’t slip on his way up, “would you like to join me? wanna come with? lemme soap you up, girl-” he slurs, smiling cheekily to himself at the possibility of being able to run his hands all over your body in a few short minutes

he gives himself a high five when he makes it to the top of the staircase successfully, wobbling for a split second before nodding to himself and giving himself a mental pat on the back  

B-)

nice

the warm light coming from the crack in the door leaks into the hallway and yoongi shuffles towards it like a moth towards a flame, reaching up to fumble at his tie with boneless fingers-

oh

yoongi immediately freezes once he reaches the door, his heart skipping a beat in his chest when he catches a glimpse of you wearing your wedding dress through the crack

he watches curiously as you smooth your hand over the neckline before turning from side to side to look at yourself in the mirror

he wasn’t expecting to see this when he came up here but he’s definitely not complaining 

yoongi presses his hand against the door frame to keep himself from accidentally stumbling in and scaring you and ruining what seems to be a private moment 

it’s just that seeing you in your dress again is triggering a sudden flood of memories of your guys’ wedding day into his mind and it’s making his heart feel all funny (it’s actually just heartburn from the wagyu steak he wolfed down earlier) 

the corners of yoongi’s mouth immediately raise in a fond smile at the recollection of you staring up at him with so much love in your eyes as he slid the silver ring onto your finger 

it was a beautiful ceremony

the food was great

the champagne was fabulous

the after-party was super fun 

the after-after party where it was just you and him alone was definitely fun as well 

he can still recall the scent of you all over him when he woke up the next morning 

and obviously the honeymoon was great - who doesn’t like paris?! 

not to mention, you still look just as beautiful as you did on the day the two of you said i do

maybe it’s just because the alcohol is making him feel all goopy inside but he wants to be a part of whatever moment you’re having!!! 

“i’m pretty sure it’s bad luck for me to see you in your wedding dress before the wedding, darling.” yoongi pushes the door open with a creak and takes his bottom lip in between his teeth to keep himself from smiling too widely, “want me to close my eyes?”

“yoongi!” you gasp, pulling your veil up and over your head as you spin around quickly, “god, i don’t understand how your footsteps are so quiet- i really think i should put a bell on you or something-”

“what are you doing?” yoongi interrupts, tilting his head curiously as he offers you a soft smile, “hopefully not wearing your dress so you can run off and marry someone else.”

“no, obviously not-” you snort, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, “i was doing some cleaning earlier and i found the box and… i don’t know, i wanted to see if i could still fit into it and… well-” you sigh, turning back around to look at yourself in the mirror before flopping your arms down in defeat, “it doesn’t zip all the way up anymore.”

“to be fair, you’ve given birth to a child since our wedding.” yoongi raises a brow, glancing down at the zipper that’s stuck halfway up your back, “even if you didn’t fit into it at all it would still be totally fine-”

“yeah, but i had to suck in a lot just to get the stupid zipper up halfway-!” you whine quietly, pouting at yourself in the mirror before gesturing to your chest, “one sneeze and my boobs are going to pop out-”

“i wouldn’t be opposed to that-”

“you know, maybe i should’ve had spanx embedded into the dress instead of it being 100% silk because silk is not a very forgiving material-”

“oh, baby…” yoongi chuckles, slinking his arms around you from behind before leaning down to prop his chin up on your shoulder, “don’t be so hard on yourself! your body literally made a human being- forgive it if it can’t fit into a dress from, like, three years ago…”

“i guess…” you trail off, leaning back a little to rest your head against yoongi’s as you continue looking at yourself in the mirror with a pitiful little frown on your face, “it’s just hard to feel beautiful when i can’t fit into most of my old clothes…”

“hey, you cut that out right now.” the smile immediately drops from yoongi’s face and he frowns at you in the mirror disapprovingly, “so what if you can’t fit into the dress anymore? you’re beautiful and like, really hot and- and even after all this time i’m still super head-over-heels in love with you and you could be wearing a potato sack and i would still think you were the most beautiful woman to ever walk the planet and- and i love y-” 

“alright, you drunk, i get it.” you giggle lightly, reaching up to pat the side of yoongi’s warm face, “i love you more.”

“good.” yoongi smiles contently when it seems like you’ve cheered up a little from his (very good and extremely persuasive, in his opinion) pep talk, “love you most.” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss to your palm

“mhm. you reek of wine, by the way-” you wrinkle your nose playfully, letting yoongi sway you back and forth gently before reaching down to pat at his hand, “i think we should get you into the shower and then into bed.”

“i think we should get we into the shower and then into bed.” yoongi corrects you, pausing for a second to think over his words, “yeah. that makes sense.”

…,..,we should get we into the shower and then into bed…..,,.

that totally makes sense

you know what he means 

“i’m only joining you so that you don’t pass out halfway through and end up falling asleep against the wall like you did last time.” you remind him, though it’s obvious he’s hardly paying attention to what you’re saying because he’s too busy nipping at the side of your neck  

“mm. hey, you know what the best part is about the zipper not going all the way up?” yoongi grins, one of his arms sliding back from your waist so he can reach for the zipper, “it makes it much easier for me to get you out of this dress.”

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!) 

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!) 

[gwldcnz]

* 𝟖𝟎 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒!

click on read more to access my first collection of prompts / sentence starters! some were created by me but most were selected from the fake redhead. it’s a mix of magic, romantic, funny & action-themed dialogues.

tw: inappropriate language; mention of blood, weapons, drinking.

"all i'm saying, is that if you blow up the house, you're going to be fired." "yes, but last week a dragon almost set my hair on fire, so it's your turn to negotiate!" "i'd agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong." "are you... crying?" "no! i'm just having an allergic reaction to that romantic movie."

"what the heck is that?!" "my cat." "cats don't have eight legs!" "my leg just dematerialized and you want me to calm down?" "i still want to know how you managed to get the car on the roof." "i can't reveal all my tricks." "i'm going to need chicken blood, salt, five candles and a bottle of vodka." "vodka? for the spell?" "no, that's just to make me feel better about ripping a hole in the universe." "this plan of yours is going to get us killed. of course i'm in." "i'm not going to help you take over the world. no, not even if you try to bribe me with cookies." "woe is me." "no, woe is ME for having to keep up with this farce." "what's the word for that infestation of tiny creatures over there?" "those are children. that's a school." "hey, nice tattoo!" "i don't have a tattoo." "okay, how drunk were you last night?" "oh, look at all the pretties!" "can you please stop talking about assault rifles the same way you talk about shoes?" "no, no, you DON'T want me navigating, i'll accidentally navigate us off a cliff." "what's our exit strategy?" "our what?" "oh my god, we're all going to die." "oh my god, i had the exact same dream!" "really?" "are you crazy? of course i didn't." "is that blood?" "no?" "that's not a question you're supposed to answer with another question."  "this is all your fault." "i hope so." "i'd rather be pecked to death by a flock of hummingbirds." "you have no power over me." "you are sure about that?" "oh, no." "what is it? what happened? who died?" "i think i just felt an emotion." "excuse me! i was a superhero for ten whole minutes!" "and in that time you got kidnapped and we had to come to the rescue." "hold on, you died!" "yeah, well... it didn't stick." "do you feel guilty? like, at all?" "i don't have time to feel guilty. and neither do you." "i am way too sober for this." "will you be quiet?!" "i didn't say anything!" "well... stop thinking so loud!" "what the hell kind of noise was that?" "i sneezed." "if i start leaking blood from my eyeballs, i am going to come back and haunt you so hard." "don't mind me, i'll just be in the corner, having another existential crisis." "thank you." "for what?" "not being a product of my psychosis." "you're not as evil as people think you are." "no. i'm much worse." "i just googled what chickens look like without feathers and i am severely uncomfortable." "how drunk were you last night?" "well, i still have my pants on, so not that drunk?" "those aren't your pants." "how could i not see it?" "you did see it, but you married me anyway." "today's just a light recon day." "then why are you carrying five pounds of explosives?" "i want to be prepared." "why are your hands purple?” “that's a very good question." "that's disgusting. you're lucky you're cute." "did you just... agree with me?" "oh, i wish i could take-" "nope! you said it! no take-backs!" "damn it, why aren't you obeying the laws of physics?" "well SOMEONE thought it would be a great idea to throw our backup plan off a bridge." "it was on FIRE!" "oh, you were the one who had fish in her hair." "wow. you really know how to flatter a girl." "i think i'm having a feeling... how do i make it stop?" "why are you glaring at me?" "i'm hoping you'll spontaneously combust." "can you please go be stupid somewhere that's away from me?" "what are you so afraid of?" "you." "are you SURE i can't punch him in the face?" "yes." "what if i just break his nose a little?" "stop that!" "stop what?" "doing that thing with your face when you're happy. it's making me nauseous." "i'm bitter and complicated. it's one of my charms." "i don't think you know what that word means. or how to count." "don't mind me, i'm just live-tweeting the insanity of your family reunion." "can i stay in the reality of your universe? mine sucks." "have a drink." "i'm working." "then sit down and watch me drink." "when this is all over, i want my sanity back." "are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?" "i don't know, probably both." "right now i don't know if i want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge." "can i pick?" "you have to listen to reason!" "but reason is boring!" "she's crying... what do i do?" "go comfort her." "how do i do that?" "start with hugs." "with what?" "i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties of your life." "you are the WORST at this comfort thing." "i had a thought." "oh no." "i swear it's a good one this time!" "this is my life now. i have climbed this hill and now i will die upon it." "shut up, we've only been hiking for twenty minutes." "i regret a lot of things. having this conversation tops the list." "do you understand what the words 'self preservation' mean?" "yeah, it's a property of jams and jellies." "do we need wine?" "no, i need wine, you need to put your pants back on." "but life is so freeing without them!" "pants. on. now." "you're speeding!" "i acknowledged sign's recommendation." "you're going 30 miles over!" "on a scale from one to ten, how bad do you think it would be if-" "at least a twenty." "you-you are-" "beautiful, a genius, immensely talented." "i don't give a damn." "you give so many damns they've visible from space." "what happened to me last night?" "you thought you developed magic powers and could talk to squirrels." "kind of glad, i don't remember any of that." "it's okay, i got it all on video." "why are you so much better at drinking than i am?" "let's be real, i'm better than you at everything." "today is the worst day ever!" "what's wrong?" "i had to put on pants!" "why are you telling me you ripped a portal to another dimension through your washing machine? are you on drugs?" "for the record, it was the dryer." "that's not the point!" "you're an idiot. i'm an idiot. we're the co-presidents of Club Idiot." "if we die, i'm going to spend the rest of our afterlife reminding you that this was all your fault." "that's cool, i wouldn't mind having company while being a ghost." "i'm trying to have a serious conversation with you!" "and i'm trying to subtly avoid it!" "look, if you want to conjure some demon spawn from the great beyond, that's all fine and dandy. just wait for me to leave before you start." "unless i screw this up again, i'm going to marry you." "well... you better not mess up." "you scared me!" "well, i am naturally terrifying." "well, i started my day getting attacked by balloons at the market. things got a lot worse from there." "you're crushing my spleen!" "you don't even know where your spleen is." "that's not funny." "i thought it was." "you don't count! you started laughing in the middle of a funeral because you started thinking of a meme you saw on twitter."

[90stvshowgoth]

—THE BET

summary: you thought that as a member of the phantom troupe you were supposed to be smarter than this, yet here you were betting against hisoka. everyone knew that hisoka was a master at poker, cards were his weapon after all, but you couldn’t resist wagering one more bet on a drinking game.

w/c: 4587

tags: dubcon, drunk sex, creampie, blood kink, hate sex, begging, brat taming

a/n: this originally started as a chrollo oneshot, you can kinda tell from how the opening paragraph is about him, but once i started writing the poker game i was like “okay no i gotta make this its own thing,” and because of that decision we now have loose ends getting ch.3 rn :) also no, i couldn’t help but kinda reference phantom of the opera cause it slaps and nobody can tell me otherwise. also, no, before anyone asks, this is a oneshot. it aint getting a sequel.

big thanks to the lovely miss @sealedrosewater for beta reading this clownfucking nightmare.

The heist had gone off without a hitch, Chrollo’s plan worked like a charm and before the night was out you had all flawlessly extracted each and every one of the gilded texts being held in the museum. You still remembered the childlike gleam in your boss’ eyes as he ran his fingers over the aged leather, its binding parchment laced with gold. The faintest ghost of a smile fled from his pallid lips as he admired his new conquest. It made your chest swell with pride, happy to help the man you respected so much. Besides, your cut was nothing to sneeze at.

Your rendezvous was inside a long-abandoned opera theatre where dust clung to the red velvet of the seats and the chandelier was seemingly hanging by a thread; your boss always had a flair for the dramatics. Once all members of the spider had finished reconvening at the empty theatre to gather their spoils it wasn’t long before someone, probably Uvogin, brought out the drinks. Nobunaga had already begun nursing a rum and coke, all while Feitan kept turning down Shal’s insistence to “Just try some, Fei,” Even Shizuku cracked open one of the ice-cold bottles, knocking back an impressive swig. As soon as you saw Machi pulling out a deck of cards you knew you had to stay for the after party.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of your leader. He’d gone to his room with the book you recovered tucked under his arm. A few other members who couldn’t be bothered took after your leader and went off to whichever side room they’d stashed a futon in the week prior; the Phantom Troupe’s equivalent of picking out a bedroom. A shame, really. You’d seen Feitan drunk once before and it was truly a sight to behold.

You sat crosslegged on the wooden floor, watching your comrades slowly get comfortable for a night of fun. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat above you, looking up to see Pakunoda with a soft smile on her face and an opened beer in her outstretched hand.

“Paku, have I ever told you how much I love you?” You couldn’t help but shower the woman with praise. She had been the one who recommended you to Chrollo after all, and she served as your mentor for your first few months until you found your feet.

She scoffed at the compliment, “Far too much,”

Sticking your tongue out playfully at the mindreader, you took a deep sip of beer, enjoying the familiar taste. Paku sat down beside you and it wasn’t long before the two of you were drinking shoulder to shoulder.

“Machi! Deal us in,” You raised your drink to the transmuter and she flicked two cards towards you both.

Scooting away from Paku, you quickly scanned the cards you’d received before pressing them face down. A queen and an ace. Not great, but not awful either.

The others had formed a haphazard circle, each glancing at their cards with an unreadable poker face. Well, all except Hisoka, who seemed pleased as punch with whatever hand he’d been dealt. Silently, Nobunaga took out two coins and threw them into the center— the Troupe’s house rules counting it to be equivalent to 2 billion jenny.

“Call,” you answered, matching the swordsman’s bet with an unreadable expression on your face.

“Oh? Well then, I’ll raise you,” Hisoka purred, pushing five extra chips into the pot without breaking his gaze from yours.

‘What was he planning?’ That smug look of his just made you want to win that much more. The same seemed to be true of everyone else, each calling the clown’s bet in a row. After all, to a member of the Phantom Troupe, five billion jenny wasn’t that much of a loss.

When Machi turned up the first three cards your heart skipped a beat. Two queens and a seven. Winning a round of poker against some of the smartest criminals the world had ever known was an uphill battle, seeing as how you’d been a member for years without winning a single game.

‘Three of a kind already... what should I do?’ Your face was as stone-cold as before, even with the excitement bubbling in your gut. As nonchalantly as you could, you raised another two billion. At that, Uvo and Shizuku both folded, the enhancer grumbling with a disappointed frown.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I haven’t got enough coins~” Hisoka slapped down a twenty, and a chorus of annoyed groans broke out like a choir, the abandoned theatre’s acoustics amusingly echoed the loud noises of displeasure.

After that little stunt only three others remained: Pakunoda, who’s facade hadn’t cracked all game, Nobunaga, who was glaring daggers at Hisoka, and the aforementioned magician holding up his cards in front of him like a child playing for the first time.

All three of you matched his bet, but none were happy about it. As Machi flipped over the fourth card you found yourself holding your breath. Not because you particularly cared about the money at stake, but because you felt closer to a victory than you had in months. The caricature of a medieval jester being illuminated under the light made you dig your nails into the palm of your hand.

Joker. That meant you had four queens.

It never felt harder to fight a smile off your face than in that moment. Without betraying your excitement, you called, and to your surprise so did Hisoka. Was he bluffing? Or did he have something else in mind? Nobunaga took a deep breath, knocking back the rest of his drink before calling alongside Pakunoda.

All eyes were on the card beneath Machi’s fingertips, the seconds it took to turn the paper on its head filled the theatre with a suspense liable to bring its fragile walls to the ground.

An eight of hearts. Oh well, no big deal.

Nobunaga muttered a curse under his breath, revealing a simple jack and ten of the same suit. Pakunoda was unreadable when she showed the pair of kings she held in her hands. She must’ve thought that the three of a kind would’ve won her the game. The smile on your face felt sweeter after holding it in the whole round, and Nobunaga rolled his eyes when he saw your hand, pushing the pot towards you.

“Well, look at that~” Your victory was interrupted by Hisoka’s insufferable tone, the cards he held up making your jaw drop.

A nine and a jack of hearts. A straight flush.

“That’s bullshit!” You cried, enraged over the loss. It wasn’t even that you cared so much about losing, It only mattered because you lost to him. In an instant you had summoned your nen into the palms of your hands, ready to lunge at the clown when Pakunoda grasped your shoulders, holding you back. Sometimes you forgot how much brute strength was hidden under that pantsuit.

“Just flip a coin, don’t give him what he wants.” Your first reaction was to ignore her, squirming against her iron grip to try and get to Hisoka, who was dramatically scooping all your winnings into his arms.

Uvogin tossed yet another empty beer can over his head, “C’mon Paku, I say let ‘em fight,”

“I concur~” The magician chirped, dramatically stacking each and every coin he’d won while boring his yellow eyes right into yours. His tongue parted his lips, a manic excitement hiding behind the coy expression.

Although every muscle in your body screamed at you to rip into him, you knew you wouldn’t win. He knew your abilities and you couldn’t say for certain you knew all of his.

“Never-mind,” You spat the words out at him like they tasted sour, “You’d probably get off on it anyways.”

A few laughs from the peanut gallery followed your words and Hisoka shrugged, the intense bloodlust from a few seconds ago vanishing as if he’d changed his mind about fighting you on a whim. “You may be right, darling,” your face scrunched up at the nickname you knew he only used to get on your nerves, which it did. “but what if we played a different game?”

Despite how badly you just wanted to ignore him and laugh the night away with all but one of your comrades, you couldn’t turn down the idea of a rematch. Your pride wasn’t nothing to you. “What kind of game?” You asked hesitantly.

He hummed, standing up from the towers of coin he’d made, sauntering over to the cooler of drinks Franklin had provided. After digging around the cold box he pulled out a bottle of fruity tequila and two empty shot glasses.

Your eyes narrowed at the “innocent” smile on his face, looking over to Pakunoda for reassurance.

“You’ll kill him if he spikes my drink, right?” You asked your mentor, who nodded resolutely.

Paku was staring at Hisoka like she was already thinking of ten different ways how to kill him. After sizing him up she flashed you a reassuring nod, “Without question.”

Resolute in your decision, you marched forward, snatching one of the shot glasses from his hand. The stage lights shone above him, making his eyes gleam like the plastic gloss of a doll.

“Shall we begin, then?”

You raised an eyebrow, “What are the rules first?”

He waved his hand in the air, brushing it off, “Nothing too complex, I assure you. The first one who taps out will lose. The loser will do something for the winner. That’s all.”

You still weren’t convinced it could be that simple. “What’s the catch?”

That smirk from before returned to his painted face and he suddenly leaned forward, feeling far too close for comfort. Still, you didn’t step away, your face expressionless as he whispered into your ear. If you did you felt like he’d somehow win whatever stand-still the two of you had on.

“If I lose, I’ll leave the Phantom Troupe,” You reeled away, stunned at his declaration.

Being accepted into the Troupe was the best moment of your life, it always would be. When you looked into the mirror at the tattoo that curled under your ribcage you felt such a warm swell of pride. You couldn’t imagine throwing it all away over some drinking game.

“And...” You blinked rapidly, trying to collect yourself, “If I lose?”

The laugh that echoed from his chest was far from reassuring.

The evening slowly ran into the early morning, each of the other Troupe members wandering off eventually in varying stages of drunkenness. Even Pakunoda headed off to bed after confirming that Hisoka hadn’t spiked your drinks with anything other than a strawberry vodka base. It was unnerving at first, to be completely alone with Omokage’s replacement. Luckily his tastes ran strong, and your vision was spinning before your knew it.

“Match.” Another shot went down your throats, the taste disgustingly sweet, and you watched as his Adam’s apple tensed from the burn.

You’d long since stopped counting how many drinks you’d had, losing track once you got to the double digits. You were both using nen to reinforce yourselves, obviously, but it wasn’t infallible.

‘How is he so good at this?’ You wondered, because as the bottle ran low you started to question just what had made you so confident as to enter a bet with Hisoka in the first place.

“My dear, why not rest for a minute? At least try to enjoy each others company?” His legs were crossed, resting his hand on his palm as he not-so-subtly checked you out. It wasn’t uncommon, and certainly not unexpected from someone like him, but what you hated wasn’t just the nerve of him, but how it made you feel. His scrutiny sent chills down your spine, the unnerving edge to his tone only making you shift your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,” you knocked back two consecutive shots, unable to hide the wince it caused on your face. Good, you wanted it to sting. Anything to take your mind off the magician in front of you.

He pouted as he poured another row of drinks, “Aw, now why’s that?”

You answered his question with another, pointing towards the half-empty bottle of liquor, “Whats in this, really?”

The magician rolled his eyes, “I did pick an unopened bottle for a reason, dear, I do so want you to trust me.”

Without much fanfare he threw back four shots, over your stunned reaction.

“Just give up already, Darling~ I promise to make it worth your while,” You were reaching your limit for sure, but you were far to stubborn to give up without a fight.

“Fuck you,” you took the first of your next four shots slowly, not managing his fast pace.

He grinned a cheshire smile, “Oh, say that again, will you?”

If he were to call you out on the blush slowly spreading across your nose you’d just blame the alcohol, but the truth was that his words just egged you on even more to the point where you were almost—barely even considering...

“What do you mean, make it worth my while?”

He leaned forward like a cat, agile and silent, whispering his words against your temple, “I’ll tell you how I won that hand,” He got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“You’ll tell me how you cheated?”

Hisoka nodded, a clawed hand coming to stroke a stray piece of hair behind your ear, the action far too intimate for someone like him.

There was no way you’d win against him in this match, that much was clear from the very sober way Hisoka held himself against you, inhumanly still, so what did you have to lose?

‘Your dignity,’ A part of you answered back, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d left your dignity behind four shots ago.

“If I lose...”

“If you lose,” He mouthed the words into your cheek, his eyes closed in thought, “You do know what I’ve decided my prize shall be, right?” Of course you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, and the way he nuzzled himself into your neck was far from subtle.

Were you actually so desperate to learn how you lost that you’d sleep with him?

No, you weren’t. But the ache between your legs was getting harder to ignore, and the idea that you could write off what you were about to do behind the excuse of gathering intel sounded like a win-win.

You dug your hands into his hair, not trying to be anything but rough, basking in the moan that spilled from his lips, breath hot against your neck before you yanked him back to meet your gaze.

“Fine. You win, Hisoka,” He smirked, and although he was on his knees he still towered over you, “so how did you cheat?”

Before you could blink his hand had wrapped around your throat, the magician slamming your head into the wood of the stage. You’d had plenty of time to block the damage with your hatsu but the action left your brain rattling inside your skull.

“I’ll tell you later,” He promised, the disorienting blur was slow to fade from the alcohol, and distantly you could feel his other hand stroke your face, his nails like filed daggers trailing over your cheekbones.

“What to do with my prize, then, hm?” He mused, tilting your head from left to right as if examining a block of wood he was about to carve. You coughed on impulse when he let go of your neck, guiding it up instead and taking both your small hands into his palm with an iron grip.

With a flick of his wrist he drew a card, the eight of hearts, seemingly out of nowhere, his nen sharpening it into a thin blade, “Don’t move,”

“Wait... Hisoka, don’t—!” You were far too late to stop him, the frigid air of the ghostly theatre rushing to meet the bare skin of your chest.

Your shirt fell to ribbons along with your bra and you thrashed desperately in his grasp, angry over the loss of your favorite top. He paid your escape attempt no mind, enraptured with the way your tits rose and fell with the timing of your breath and the way you tried to wriggle yourself free.

Still holding your hands to the floor above you, his head bent to wrap a skilled tongue around your tits, a soft sigh involuntarily falling away from you.

“I fuckin’ ha-ate you, Hisoka—ah,” His teeth bit down on your peak at the comment, peering up at you from under his fiery hair.

“Oh? Then why is it you’re moaning like a little whore?” He shifted his weight above you and you saw an opportunity.

You kicked with all your strength between his legs, pulling your knee back and shoving him off with a dig of your shoe into his stomach, “I’m not, don’t call me that shit!”

He actually loosened his grip on you clearly not intending for you to get free from his grasp, a choked sound of what you thought was pain devolving to something much more heated as he stared into you.

“You... are well worth the wait, my dear,” His bloodlust seeped out from every pore, grounding you to the spot. You could usually hold your own against someone like him but it wasn’t hard to see the disadvantage you were at.

Within a fraction of a second he was on you, twisting your waist in his clawed grasp until your ass was hiked into the air, a sharpened playing card slicing through the denim until he could rip it from your legs, yelp echoing like music in the long-silent theatre.

“I knew you’d have some fight left in you,” He crawled forward and you started to realize why he wore exclusively baggy pants, his length hot against you through the fabric as his hips caged you in. As he began to remove that street-performer getup he always wore he’d occasionally curl his hand around your waist to mercifully tug on your ignored clit, your groans muffled and cursed, “I love it. That resilience? It just turns me on.”

You could feel your confidence fade as he tugged those sweatpants down, the weight of him grinding into your ass made all your bravado vanish.

“It will make it so much more satisfying...” He pointed his finger upwards, and suddenly your hands became magnetized to each other, no amount of struggle even budging the rubbery nen substance. “...when I break you.”

Without warning he slid himself inside you, hands holding your hips still as he forced your back into an arch. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, the flailing of your bound arms useless as he shallowly began pumping his cock deeper inside you.

Your muffled curses whispered into the floor made him laugh, pulling his hand back and cruelly slapping the vulnerable flesh of your ass without a warning.

“Wh.. Why?”

“Because, darling, I want to hear you beg for me.” He pouted, teasing your clenched walls with only the tip of his slick head.

Despite the desire coursing through your veins you still had your pride in tact, “Never gonna happen, asshole.”

Gripping your hips, he dug himself into your dripping cunt as far as he could, both of you unrestrained with a moan at the feeling of his cock brushing near your cervix, your hips traitorously snapping back to meet his eager thrusts, movement near impossible as Hisoka forced you into the ground.

You cried out softly with each quick pull and stretch, only able to say his name one syllable at a time,

“Hi-so—kah...” It was hard to turn your head to the side from his brutal pace but somehow you manage, craning yourself in order to see him; His head was thrown back with a sheer bliss softening his glistening skin, his eyes closed and lips parted. The sight made your keening grow louder, the simple image of him losing himself in your twitching pussy sending a wave of slick dripping around his length.

He must’ve felt your gaze on him because soon enough his was staring at you, his pupils blown wide with desire in a way that made them look like a sun eclipsed, black outlined with a ring of fiery gold.

All at once his hips froze, digging his cock so far as to leave an indent in your pelvis. For a confused second you thought he’d finished, but his gaze was cruel and focused, his lips in a smirk, and you felt no more full than you had a moment ago. He was doing this on purpose.

“Wait, no-nono, wh..y?” You hiccuped, taking his break as a moment to wipe unshed tears from your glossy eyes.

He sighed, “I don’t like repeating myself, darling,” He accentuated the infuriating nickname with a slap to your thigh, face unchanged as he trailed his sharpened fingertips along the reddening skin.

“His..oh.. fuck, Hisoka—“ The banished tears returned, falling silently down your pink face as you whispered, “please,”

“Hmm? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, my dear, mind saying that again?

Your voice hiccuped as you spoke, “Please, alright? Please,” You thought it’d be enough, that he might finally go back to toying with your clit while he fucked you into the old floorboards, but you’d underestimated the magician’s self-control.

Innocently, he tilted his head, “Please what, dear? Please hit you again?” Hisoka didn’t blink as he slowly brought up his palm, giving you plenty of time to try and wiggle free from your punishment just to show off how futile escape really was, lashing his hand down on the same patch of skin as before, grinning at the shriek he yanked from your lungs.

“No! No, fu-uck.. just—“ You whimpered, brain seemingly disconnected from your mouth as you struggled to form the words, “just fuck me, Hisoka, please.”

“Look at you, huh? You were a slut after all,” He purred, letting the weight of your words hang lifeless in the air along with your stubborn pride. Before you could argue again his hand had returned to your clit, pace unforgiving as he pulled your nerves ever closer to snapping only to halt the second he grew bored, “Say it,”

Mindlessly, you nodded your head, “I’m yours, I’m your slut, Hisoka,” you intentionally clenched yourself around him, mumbling lucid pleas for more as his hard cock twitched, pre cum dripping from your heat onto the floor as your conscience trying to deny what your body so willingly accepted, “want you to fuck me, Hisoka, fu-ck,” you whined, the still presence inside your sensitive walls drove you insane.

With each word a truly unhinged aura began to surround him, and by extension, you, the intoxicating menace dripping over you like a drug as you faced forward once again, wiggling your ass as best you could in his grip.

That was his breaking point, ripping you away from his cock only to drive himself back in, digging the full blade of his nails into your hips, blood pooling around the crescent cuts.

“Fuck, ah.. Darling, ‘doing so good, so good’fr me-ah,” He slurred his words together, more drunk on you than the vodka as he leaned back, forcing you to meet him as his thrusts became so quick that it was getting hard to breathe, your ribcage creaking with discomfort as you were nailed into the stage.

“M..o-re, more...” You begged, and he was happy to oblige. the smearing crimson of blood running hot down your thighs, the pain only making you more pliant in his sculptor’s hands as he folded your body however he liked, ignoring your pained weep from the stretch as he slung one of your bleeding legs over his shoulder.

It was almost weird to hear him say your actual name, so often he used a pet name to mock or flirt with you, sometimes both, “So good for me like this, taking me so goo-uh,” He choked on his words as your cunt tightened around him, your hands clinging for balance in his hair, and Hisoka clearly didn’t mind if the slew of moans from his lips was any indication.

The angle his hips cut into had the edges of your vision turning into a vignette, “I’m close, so close, gonna cum inside you, yeah? Right here,” The hand that had been toying with your clit changed angles, his fingertips spinning spirals onto your aching bud while the flat of his hand pushed against your stomach, your shout swallowed by his pretty lips, tongue toying with yours.

“Ye-es cum inn-side me,” You were too far gone to care, anything he said sounded good as long as he said it in that sultry purr, arms numb as they lay suspended above your head.

“Take it, take it, Darling,” With what little strength you had left you curved your calf beside his neck, pulling him in until his cock brushed your cervix, the pain indistinguishable from the pleasure, “Uhn, cumm-fuck, i’m cumming—“

His cum was thick, the curve of his cock jutting inside you as he filled you up, mercifully swallowing your hallowed scream as he kissed you deeply, almost all feeling in your raised leg lost until he lowered it to his waist, involuntarily snapping his hips up although they had nowhere left to go until your moan turned into a broken sob of lingering bliss.

“Shh, dear, I’ve got you,” With a whirl of his wrist your arms were free of his bungee gum, shakily pulling them to your sides again as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, whispering a slurred mess of sweet words, stopping to suck a particularly deep hickey into the vein of your flesh.

“Hisoka, quit it!” Your fight had returned along with feeling to your fingertips as you wrenched him back by the hair, his cock jumping.a bit inside you at the grip, “I’ll have to wear sweaters for weeks now, you jerk.”

The capillaries had already begun to burst as he laughed, reaching up behind your head to pull his discarded top forward, digging out what looked like a piece of smooth cleaning cloth from its pocket and lying it over your neck with a simple point of his finger, gyo revealing the pink gum of his aura that controlled it before he smoothed the fabric over your skin, the texture so light you could barely feel it.

“A deal’s a deal, love, I’ll tell you how I cheated,” He smiled as satisfied and smug as he could ever be, a tingling sensation overtaking the patch of covered skin.

As he pulled your hand away you ran your fingers over the cloth, not finding a seam among the normal tone of your chest. Eyes wide as you looked at him for answers he was already happy to provide, “It’s called texture surprise. I can apply it to any flat surface and change its appearance. It’s quite handy,”

“It works on skin, paper, even playing cards,” You felt like an idiot. During the match you kept analyzing him for a sleight of hand trick all while he was using a second nen technique to win. It was so simple but genius, and you felt a little bit better knowing you weren’t outwitted by something obvious.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,”

He chuckled, kissing along the new unblemished canvas of your neck, “I know~”

[floofs-headcanons]

Hello hello! Both of your have such awesome writing! I had so much fun reading the headcanons and scenarios of the bodyguard AU! Could I request either college AU or a soulmate AU or your choosing for Zoro? Whatever you feel like writing! Thank you!!

College & Soulmate AU; Scenario

Character; Zoro

Word Count; 1,718

Thank you so much, we’re glad you liked it !! But no, but let me tell you how we screamed at each other for literally half an hour when we saw this request. There were too many good soulmate AUs we ended up using a generator aksjdhas.

The first time you and your soulmate touch you get stuck together for a while.

December is when you find him sleeping on campus grounds. He’s resting on one of the outdoor tables, book open, with arms covering the pages. Snow is falling, and you’re cold even with a heavy fur coat and umbrella keeping the white specs from melting into your hair.

You’re not sure if you should wake him up despite the fact that he was wearing nothing other than a T-shirt and some jeans, but he doesn’t seem very bothered. Well, that is until he sneezes. It’s followed by some incoherent grumbling and nearly scares the shit out of you, but it’s enough for you to decide to help.

“Hey,” you poke his cheek with the butt of your umbrella, not too fond of touching strangers. “Hey!”

He doesn’t stir, and you’re left wondering if anyone else has tried to help him before you showed up and ended up leaving it be because he wouldn’t budge.

Still, you couldn’t leave him here in this type of temperature; so you decide to leave your umbrella behind. It’s long enough to lean against the table and shield him from the ever piling snow without directly touching any part of his body and possibly bothering his rest- not that you think it would. He didn’t flinch even when you yelled at him.

December is when you’re working at Shakky’s bar late into the night to pay off your college tuition.

Those loans wouldn’t pay themselves after all and the salary was good. 

The company at the bar itself was interesting to say the least. You could never truly say you had a dull night while working there. Be it the slurring drunks and their awful attempts at pickup lines, to the terribly sobering tales that would be shared across the counter; it was an eye opening experience. 

Tonight would be much like any other- at least, that’s what you had thought until a familiar man comes through the door. 

He seemed well- that was good. You didn’t give it too much thought, after all, you were on the clock and this was a rather popular bar for the student body to frequent. From the way Shakky greets him, he must’ve been a regular long before you had begun working here.

Setting down the glass you had been mindlessly polishing, your attention is drawn towards a customer sitting near the back of the bar. He’s a bit louder than the other customers, but you were pretty used to that. Eustass Kid came in all the time and drank until he either passed out or his blonde haired friend carried him out forcefully. At the very least he wasn’t bothering anybody.

“Excuse me,” the green haired man raises a hand, successfully catching your attention. It seems he was done talking to Shakky by now.

“Yes?” You make your way over, an award-winning customer service smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “What can I get for you?”

He ends up getting a few, maybe more than a few, beers. This man sure could drink.

December is when your car decides it needs its own break from the cold winter snow. It thankfully doesn’t break down anywhere too traffic heavy, and there’s an auto-repair shop not even five minutes away.

“Oh, hello,” you greet, surprised to see a familiar face working here. He’s wearing a tank-top and some slacks, and this time you think the attire is appropriate given how much he was sweating.

The owner, Franky, had more than generously came to pick up your mobile and gave you a ride along the way, saying it would be done the same day. I have a reliable repairman, he said more than just a bit too loudly for comfort.

The male glances up at you for a second before going back to finish up on the vehicle he was already occupied with. “Hey, there.” You’re not too sure if he recognizes you- it’s a hard to not recognize him- but that’s fine, you just needed your car fixed.

It doesn’t take him very long to finish up on his current project before moving onto yours. He thankfully doesn’t ask any questions, it seems like the owner had already filled him in, and just starts working.

“You know,” he spares you a glance, picking up another tool. “He said it’d be done the same day but it’s still gonna take a few hours. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Unfortunately not,” you sigh. The only plans you had were to go back home and take a long, long nap, but there was no way you were going to walk back in this type of weather. For a while, you’re standing around a little awkwardly, fiddling with the fluffs of your sleeves before he speaks up.

“If you want you could sit inside where it’s warmer. There’s a TV and some magazines you could read to keep you occupied.” You debate that for a bit, looking through the glass door to the waiting area, but ultimately decide to stick around for a bit longer.

“It’s fine,” you say with a smile. You could wait inside later, for now you’d want to wander a bit. It’s not every day you’d get to go to an auto-repair shop and you’ve always been a bit curious with how often Kid yells about it in the bar. “Would it be alright if I take a look around?”

He gives a grunt of approval and you make yourself comfortable, roaming the workshop. It’s quite big, and you hadn’t noticed ‘til now that the walls were painted in vibrant blues, red, and yellow. It matched the owner’s eccentric personality.

“Oh,” a stand hidden to the back of the shop catches your attention; a lone umbrella resting on its handles. Yours- to be more precise. “You use an umbrella during snow time?” You hadn’t bothered to ask for it back, the thought never really occurred to you. Considering they weren’t that expensive buying a new one wouldn’t be much of a hassle. If anything, you were more surprised he’s kept it around.

The male clears his throat, stopping whatever it was he was doing to your car and wipes his hands down with a towel. “Actually,” he admits sheepishly, “I’ve been meaning to return it to you. I just kept forgetting.”

You raise a brow, “You knew it was mine?”

“I’ve seen you use it around campus before,” he admits. “Not a lot of people use an umbrella while it’s snowing, and the color’s pretty vibrant so it’s hard to not notice. I had wanted to give it to you when I visited the bar, but you were constantly busying yourself so I never got the chance.”

A chuckle escapes your lips at his little confession. He seemed like such an intimidating guy, with the furrowed brows and scar over his eye, but he was a lot more awkward than one would expect. “Well,” you catch his attention. “I’m working there again tomorrow night if you want to come give it to me in person.” December is when you’re sparing hopeful glances at the door every time the bell chimes.

“Expecting someone?” Shakky teases, coming behind the bar and pouring herself a glass.

“Something like that,” you mutter before making your way past her to attend to someone in the corner of the room. It’s the same person from around two weeks ago- he’s louder this time, but there were also less customers tonight and no one seems to be complaining any so you let it slide. “Yes? How may I hELP-?!”

What you can’t let slide is how he forcefully grabs your wrist and essentially drags your body to lean over the table. “Ah, damn,” you’re used to drunks, not idiots. He has a permanent grin plastered over his lips and his grip on your wrist tightens. “I can’t let go! Guess we must be soulmates!”

There is no explaining the disgust that washes over your face. “Sir, I’m asking you politely to let go.”

Everyone who goes here knows that it’s simply an unwritten rule to not fight unless you wanted to be beaten half to death. Not by you- dear lord no- Shakky on the other hand was ruthless and you’d never want to end up on the other side of her fist.

Ever.

“Huh?” He slurs, “didn’t I just tell you that I can’t let go?”

“I’m telling you-” before you’re able to get anymore words out another hand wraps around the older man’s wrist, successfully shutting you up. For a second, the dread of it being one of his friends rises, but it’s quickly crushed by the voice that follows.

“I’m sure you’re not deaf. She said let go.”

The bar is dead silent for a few seconds before the man roughly releases his grip on your arm. A bit gentler would’ve been nice, you internally grumble, rubbing the sore area.

“Hey there, could I ask exactly what you were trying to do with my precious barkeep?” Your boss comes over, leaning against the table. She gives you a wink and a slight nudge of her head towards the break room and you don’t think twice before leaving the scene, your green haired friend following close behind.

“Is your wrist alright?” He questions as soon as the door closes. “My bad for being late, I got held back by some work Franky wanted done.”

His hand reaches out to gently hold your wrist and a spark of electricity shocks you both. Usually, your first instinct would be to flinch and pull away, but he has a firm grip.

“Uhm,” you glance down, then back up at him. “It’ll probably bruise tomorrow but it’s nothing to worry too much about...”

His face is unreadable, and after a couple seconds his ears turn a faint shade of red. “I can’t let go.”

You chuckle at his poor attempt of a joke. “C’mon now, we just went through this.” You lift your free hand to pry his fingers off your wrist only to feel the same electric shock as earlier. It doesn’t hurt, only stinging enough to really initially surprise anyone, but you quickly realize he wasn’t trying to pull your leg.

Oh.

“So,” he awkwardly lifts his other hand. “I brought your umbrella.”

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 10.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love,

Warnings In This Chapter: Heart To Heart, Fluff, Infidelity, Sera Is A Cunt, Triggering Moments (I.E): Hearing Infidelity, Making Light Of Other's Trauma, Mentions of Cigarette Burns, General Rudeness

A/N: This chapter is early because I’m hungover. Always a shoutout to @ppersonna, @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia​. Enjoy! 

The smell of blooming flowers is something you never thought you'd become fond of. It's never been something that you've even considered. But you find yourself so often these days finding small delights in simplistic things.

Sitting in front of the large fountain that has been hidden behind clean cut hedges and tall rose bushes, you let the gentle breeze wash over you.

You can hear Baeksoo quietly speaking to the plants as she waters them. It's calming in fact, to hear her speak words of praise.

You've thought long and hard about this evening. Which is astounding since it's just dinner. But, you don't know simple things about Yoongi.

You think to ask Maya but you want to do this by yourself.

"I thought I'd find you here," the voice draws your attention and suddenly you're misty eyed.

Just the way she walks and the tilt of her gorgeous face is enough to make you weep.

"Leena!" you cry out.

Jumping up from the bench, your arms spread wide as you feel relief flood over you.

"Hey, Miss Thing!" she cheers, pulling you into her arms.

You begin to feel as if you could breathe again.

"You look so great! I missed you so much!" she whines loudly, squeezing you tightly to her slim body.

"What're you doing here?!" you ask, pulling away to look at her pretty face.

She grabs your wrist, tugging you over to the bench you were just sitting on.

"Taehyung needed to bring Yoongi some documents for a mall or something before we're off to France, so I made sure I was able to come and see you."

You watch as she demurely crosses her legs and you make a mental note of it. She went to many etiquette classes when she was younger and you’ve always admired how graceful she is. It’s the way she moves so effortlessly and with such confidence. You’ve always wished to be like her.

The floral fragrance seems to enrapture you once more as you sit together. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, your best friend makes it a point to continue to hold you.

“How is he treating you? I swear to God, if you tell me that you’re being treated like the help I’m going to fucking flip.” your best friend asks.

You sigh gently, looking up at the clear cerulean sky.

“He’s treating me normally, I guess. One minute he’s so cold with me and the next he’s just being so sweet. I don’t know what the fuck to feel. Last night, we went at it and he came to apologize to me.” you reply as the breeze blows through your hair.

“Excuse me? Min Yoongi apologized to you?” she sounds dumbfounded and all you can do is nod in agreement.

“Oh my God, he’s so fucking whipped! That’s amazing.” you snort at her excitement, rolling your eyes before looking back over to her.

“I think he’s just being civil. We’ll see, we’re having dinner tonight.” your confession hits her like a stack of bricks and she squeals loudly, gripping your hands tightly.

“I’m gonna drop dead on this expensive gravel beneath my feet. YOU and YOONGI are having dinner tonight?! Like, eating in the presence of one another civilly?!” her blue contacted eyes go wide and her mouth drops open while you nod.

“Yeah. I’m cooking dinner,” you say, confusion enrapturing your tone.

She guffaws loudly, her head lolling back as she gasps for breath. “You’re so insane! This is amazing! He totally fucking likes you!”

“Well… I don’t know about that but-” your voice is cut off by hers.

“Shush! Silence! I’ve said what I’ve said! And it’s the law!” she cries out, pressing her perfectly manicured finger to your lips.

“Sexy girl! Let’s go!” you hear Taehyung scream.

Leena turns her head to the voice before pouting. “You better call me with all the details of your date. I want to know how he looks at you, how he eats his food with you around, how he fucking sneezes. I want the whole laundry list of things that happen tonight!”

You giggle at her enthusiasm before nodding. “Yes ma’am. A laundry list of all the things Min Yoongi does to make me mad.”

She rolls her eyes before kissing your cheek happily.

“Love you, Miss Thing!”

“Love you, too!”

Standing tall, she fixes her long dress. She looks around the garden impressed before folding her arms.

“I’m really happy for you, by the way. I think things are really going to work out here.” she calls to you, starting to walk away.

“Bye Yoongi!” she yells up to the house and your eyes follow hers.

He stands on his large balcony, a cup of coffee in hand staring at you. He bows his head to her, a smirk present on his lips before looking back at you.

“Little dove, good morning.” you hear him say as he retreats back into his room.

How long was he standing there? How much had he heard?

Listening to Frederic drone on about food is something you don’t think you could ever get tired of. He makes the French cook stereotype feel so alive. You’ve been in the kitchen plenty of times, have gone through the cabinets many, many times throughout the nights when staff and the chef were sleeping. But, to hear him feeling the need to explain it all to you as you both take small steps around the gigantic kitchen is humorous and you let him do his thing.

“Now this, this is a sieve. You can strain things through it,” Frederic says, picking up the large strainer.

You hum playfully as you lean down on the island counter.

“I have made my own food before y’know,” you quip to him as he unbuttons his chef’s jacket.

He tuts his tongue as he brushes some hair back behind your ear. “Ah oui, bien sûr Madame. I know, I just want to make sure you know where everything is.”

You smile at his kindness, it must be difficult to relinquish your kitchen to others especially after being in charge for so long.

“I promise I won’t make anything dirty and I promise, cross my heart, that I will take good care of your kitchen,” you swear to him as he throws his chef’s jacket over his shoulder.

He presses both of his hands to either side of your face, wiggling them slightly with a smile.

“Merci, Madame. You are in every word parfaite. I cannot be happier to make you food in this home,” he whispers as you tilt your head with a giggle.

“Go have a good day off, have fun,” you insist as he drifts his hand over the marble countertop, as if he’s finding it hard to say goodbye.

“Oui, bien entendu. I’ll have a drink in your honor, Madame,” he says with a sigh.

You give him a wink as he exits the kitchen and you watch him slowly leave to the maid’s quarter. Your lips sputter as you look around the large, empty kitchen before sighing.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

He should be working. He opened up his computer, he grabbed all the necessary documents from both Taehyung and his office but he just can’t seem to focus.

Yoongi can smell the aroma of food coming from the kitchen and it makes him curious. What are you making? How do you even know what he likes? Do you even know how to cook?

He wants to know more about you, or try to learn more anyway.

Recalling just this morning, he can hear you so clearly -- “He’s treating me normally, I guess. One minute he’s so cold with me and the next he’s just being so sweet. I don’t know what the fuck to feel. Last night, we went at it and he came to apologize to me.”

You think he’s cold and you’re absolutely right. He always has been and it’s gotten worse these last couple of years.

He doesn’t know who he even is anymore. At least he doesn’t think he does.

Then you mentioned that he came to apologize. It must have meant a lot to you. It was weird for him to feel that aching in his chest, to feel like he fucked up. Even in the past when he’s done and said horrible things -- he never had such an ache.

Something about you just… sends him reeling.

Then he remembers what Leena said, “You better call me with all the details of your date.”

Was this a date? He didn’t even think of it in that way. It’s just two people eating… right?

Just a man and the… mother… of… his… child.

“I need whisky,” he mumbles to himself, standing up.

He hasn’t been on a date in God knows how long. He hasn’t spoken to a woman, truly spoken to one, in what feels like a millennia.

Picking up the empty bottle of whisky from the small bar caddy, he curses to himself.

He decides it’s in his best interest to go all the way to the kitchen to get a bottle. Even though his bedroom is just a floor down.

But, it certainly isn’t because you’re in the kitchen cooking. No. Not at all.

As he gets closer to the kitchen, he can smell different types of herbs and delicious meats cooking. He can smell raw peppers and onions and it makes his mouth water.

Yoongi watches you from afar for a minute, just standing on the last step of the stairwell. You’re humming, the song is sweet and calm. You have on a cute apron around your waist, with small smears of what seem to be a sauce of some kind on it.

He can feel his heart lightening at the simple sight of you. You look so… beautiful. So fucking domestic. And, he feels like he doesn’t even need the alcohol anymore because just watching you makes him drunk.

How bizarre.

“What’re we doing?” Maya whispers from next to the stairwell.

Yoongi practically jumps out of his skin at the sight of her, pressing his hand to his heart.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers fiercely, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.

He hears the older woman giggle and he rolls his eyes at her giddiness.

“I’m just getting whisky,” he mumbles aloud, still trying to keep quiet in case it would disturb you.

“Oh. I see. I can get it for you, Sir.” she replies and he grabs her wrist gently as she tries to walk away.

“No, no! I got it. It’s okay. I was just…” he can’t even complete his sentence.

What was he doing? Checking you out? He was just watching you, feeling so serene.

“You were being sweet, like I raised you. You were entranced by her.” Maya says.

He grimaces at her. “No! I was just… waiting to see if she burned down the kitchen or not.”

Maya giggles to herself before bowing her head. “Of course, Sir. I see that now.”

He rolls his eyes as she takes off to the maid’s quarter.

He watches you wave to Maya with a shy smile on your face.

“Goddammit,” he mutters, combing his fingers through his hair.

He takes small steps, trying his hardest not to disturb you as he walks by the long bar.

“Oh, hey Yoongi!”

Your voice is so sweet. Especially when you say his name.

“Smells good,” he calls to you, walking through the small hallway before appearing in the kitchen.

“Thanks! I hope you like it,” you reply happily as you stir something in the pot.

As he takes in your face, he snorts gently at a small stain by your cheek.

“I think you’re a messy cook,” he teases, walking towards you.

“Huh?” you ask confused.

Stepping in front of you, he taps his index finger to the underside of your chin.

“Look at me,” he instructs.

As you look up at him, he can feel himself falling into your eyes. You’re so doe-like and precious even when you don’t know it. It’s kind of miraculous.

Wiping his thumb over your cheek, he snorts gently. Your breath hitches in your throat as he strokes his thumb over you.

“What’re you making for dinner?” he asks, trying to distract himself from how soft your skin is.

“Well, I made a lot of things.” you reply, pulling your face away from him to look down at the pot.

He hums inquisitively, grabbing a glass off of a rack and pulling out the whisky.

“Do tell, little dove. You’re making me hungry,” he jeers, pouring himself a large portion of the alcohol.

“Well for the appetizer, I made brussel sprouts with parmesan and bacon and a small salad. For the soup, I made a soybean sprout soup. And, the main course is veal with lemon butter sauce and glazed carrots.” you tell him proudly.

He begins to smirk at how pleased you are with yourself.

“Sounds good, I’m excited,” he replies, lifting his glass.

You giggle gently, turning off the burner underneath the pot.

Leaning down on the marble island across from him, you rub your hands together.

“I hope you like it,” you whisper.

You sound shy now and it peeks his interest. You’re like a frail flower. It’s so difficult to get a read on you or put you in a category. But, maybe that’s how it should be. You shouldn’t just be one specific way, you should be well rounded. And he thinks you’ve got that.

“I’m sure I will. Although, didn’t I put in the contract that you shouldn’t be eating so much?”

Finally for once it doesn’t come out as gruff and angry, it was meant to be a joke. Luckily for him, it came out that way.

You find yourself smiling, almost having the urge to stick your tongue out at him playfully.

“I haven’t been able to cook in a long time, this feels nice. Eating a lot once in a while isn’t so bad,” you counter good-naturedly.

He raises his glass at your words. “Touche. Little dove, touche.”

You lean your head on your shoulder, your fingers skimming over each other as you look down at the marble beneath you. For once, the silence isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It’s pleasant.

“Was it nice to see Leena this morning?” he knows the answer, but he wants to see you smile wider.

And so you do. Brimming from ear to ear, you nod.

“So nice! I’m so happy that I got to see her,” you admit, looking up at him.

“Well, she can come over whenever she wants. It’s in the contract,” he suggests.

“I didn’t know if I wanted her to come over yet, y’know. With Sera around and stuff…” your answer falls flat as Yoongi chuckles across from you.

“That’d be like putting two piranhas in a tank and seeing who wins,” he chuckles.

You snort gently, pointing at him. “Exactly.”

He watches you fix things up around the kitchen, cleaning as you go.

And finally he speaks after some time. “What can I do to help?”

Humming you shrug with a smirk. "I got it. Why don't you go relax for a while?" you suggest.

As you go to lift the pot, Yoongi whistles loudly as if to tell you to stop.

"I read that pregnant women shouldn't be lifting anything heavy. Don't even think about it. I got it," he insists, waving his hand for you to move.

"You read something?" your voice is wrapped with humor as you move over.

"Very funny, little dove. Go set up the table," he instructs with an ever present smirk on his face.

Yoongi leans back in his seat, his stomach was full of delicious food by now but he can't stop picking at his plate. A true testament to how great of a cook you are.

"Damn." he whispers, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

You smirk across the table, your arms folding with pride.

"Good?" you ask softly, grabbing your drink.

"Very good. I'm impressed," he says as he slings his arm over the top of his chair.

You giggle gently, your head lolling back to look at the clear night sky.

"Who taught you how to cook?" he asks, watching as you count the stars.

So here it is. Will he be as truthful as you? Will he talk to you?

"My parents. My dad always liked cooking more than my mother. She was sick a lot when I was young. Always in the hospital. So my dad got comfort from making her food and I used to take it to her," you answer, looking back down at him.

Yoongi nods gently, it's starting to click in his mind. "That's why you hate hospitals?"

"That's why I hate hospitals. There was a time when she was admitted for a bad stomach ache and she got worse in the hospital because the bedding and the nurses weren't clean." you reply breathlessly.

The father of your child cringes at the thought, taking a sip of his whisky.

"You?"

Yoongi takes a deep, slow breath. He stares at your face and the task at hand is daunting. If people didn't already know him, he didn't open up. But, he should open up to you.

Or he thinks so anyway. You're having his child, you should know about him. And maybe if he speaks his history then it will break the cycle. Then he won't turn into his parents, he won't have a fucked up kid like himself.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," you say quickly.

You can see him wrought with nervousness. Just the prospect of letting things out must terrify him.

"No, I should talk about them. If not with you then surely a therapist," he jokes out of worry.

But, then he looks at your face. He feels that sense of dizzying calm once more. Like everything is going to be okay.

He chugs the rest of his whisky, his mouth watering and grimacing.

"No, I don't know how to cook. I'm not even sure my parents know how to cook-" he lets out a breath, letting the warm fire of the alcohol in his belly keep him going, "-they never took care of me. I was born and they were relieved to have a boy so they didn't have to try again."

You hum sadly at his words, tucking your legs beneath you as he runs his hand over his face.

"Maya has always taken care of me. She's always loved and cared for me. She's my mother by all accounts, if I'm being honest. My father was a very big disciplinarian… if that's what you want to call it. Most people would say abusive," he says, pouring himself another glass of whisky.

"Kneeling on rice, getting hit with sharp objects, burning cigarettes out. Things like that," he waves off the notion with his hand, shivering while even speaking the words.

Your heart breaks for him, thinking of how painful that must have been when he was a child.

"I haven't seen my parents in… four years now, since I got married. I hate them." he spits at the ground beneath his feet.

You can see the emotional turmoil he's reliving. You can't imagine how difficult that is.

"I'm sorry," you whisper and he shakes his head fiercely.

Picking up his fork, he taps it gently to the fine china as he thinks.

"So I grew up hating authority because of them and the teachers at Sairmount. They always said I should be doing better because of my position and what I would grow into. I hated that. Even when I tried my best I received no praise, and if I made one mistake it was like the end of the world. So I ended up just kind of… becoming a shell."

You nod to his words, your index finger swirling around the rim of your glass.

"What else, little dove?" he asks softly.

As he tilts his head, you take in his handsome features. He's just a product of his environment. You wonder what he would be like if he could thrive.

"I heard that you go to BDSM clubs and stuff, is that because you feel the need to put people in pain like you were when you were younger?" you ask, trying to be considerate of his feelings.

He takes a sharp breath through his teeth almost as if you've burned him.

"Jesus. You might as well be my therapist," he mumbles, running his hand over his face.

But, he doesn't feel awkward talking to you. He likes this. He appreciates how you listen. How your eyes stay soft and you don't judge him.

"When I was younger -- I was probably sixteen when I developed a taste for it. I was getting angry and violent. I was breaking shit and I needed to funnel that into something. So I started going to a club and learned how to be a dom. It was about the comfort of being in charge. I would have a sub and tell them to jump. They would say how high. I thrived off of being in charge. Thrived off people doing my bidding sexually. It just felt right for me to tell someone what to do and have them want to do it for me. I was in charge, people listened to me, I didn't have to do things others wanted. People did what I wanted them to do. I've toned it down since then."

"You were pretty dominating with me," you offer softly.

He chuckles at how innocent you look, his index finger swiping slowly over his lower lip. "That's because you're so sweet. I wanted to wreck you."

With a gentle giggle, you put your elbow on the table before resting your head on your hand.

"You kind of did," you reply, putting your hand on your stomach.

His eyes follow your hand and he begins to smirk above his glass.

"Clearly," he whispers, his eyes slowly drifting up your body to your swollen tits.

He licks his lips slowly, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip gently.

He never understood the attraction to pregnant women like his friend Jimin. The younger man was obsessed with the notion of it and Yoongi couldn't possibly begin to grasp it. But now, with you sitting here before him, he might be beginning to understand.

Averting his eyes from you, he tries to keep his rampant thoughts at bay.

"What else do you want to know, little dove?" he asks, trying to distract himself.

Your cheeks puff out as you think, your fingers combing through your hair gently.

"Sera? What's with her. If you hate her so much why did you get married to her?" you whisper.

Well, that's something to kill the sexual mood he was starting to feel.

He spits on the ground at the simple name of her. He stares far off into the distance, his eyes lingering on a grove of trees Baeksoo has so kindly planted.

"Sera…" he mumbles, stretching out his legs.

You might as well know. You aren't going anywhere in his life.

"Jesus, I think about it everyday and it still makes me mad," he chuckles to himself, the sound bitter and full of resentment.

You watch his face contort in pain, just the simple memory making it hard to withstand.

Without a second thought you're moving your chair. The sound is loud as you move the heavy metal and he watches you with amused eyes. Finally, your seat is next to him and you huff out gently.

"What?" he asks gently as you plop back down.

You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers to bring him peace. His head lolls back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut at the simple move. It's a simple thing to hold hands but it feels powerful when it's you.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," you say to him.

His thumb drifts over the back of your hand, his eyes opening to the numerous stars that hang brightly in the sky.

"Everyone knows I hate her but no one truly knows why. Maya, Joon, Hoseok, they know. Hell, Hoseok dives deep into her bitter cunt at night and he knows." he shakes his head gently, his eyes flitting from star to star.

You begin to bite your lip nervously as he squeezes your hand tighter.

"I didn't always hate her. I loved her once. I loved the prospect of her anyway," he breathes out, his hand gripping tighter at yours, "I was engaged at fourteen. It was mandatory, the leech's parents were friends with my parents. Their company was going down the drain, they almost had to declare bankruptcy. So this was the easiest thing for both parties. It's very normal in the high profile life to be engaged to someone else for money. It didn't bother me at all that I was engaged, so were the people around me. I thought I was going to have a life like Namjoon."

He snorts at the simple thought and mindlessly he tugs your hand with his over your stomach.

Just the thought of his baby inside of you brings him peace.

With a gentle sigh, he continues. "She didn't go to school with us and I had only seen her a few times at balls and galas. She was annoying back then and she was always brisk with people. But I liked that, I guess. Because I was the same way. I had a childish crush on her for so long and it kept growing as we got older."

He stops talking only to down another glass of whiskey. He closes his eyes as you run your hand comfortingly over his. "When I moved into this house, I had it renovated to please her. I did anything and everything to make her happy. And I was so… excited to have someone that was mine. Someone to spend the rest of my life with. I didn't want our marriage to be like my parents. And, now it's worse."

You find how sad he is depressing. Frowning, you click your teeth softly.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper.

Shaking his head, Yoongi looks at you. He gives you a sad smile. It's heart wrenching to look at his handsome face so distraught.

Even if he can be an asshole sometimes, you can understand him better now. That's all you wanted. You just wanted to be able to connect the dots.

"It was the night of our wedding, that's when I became aware of how awful of a person Sera is." he says, staring off into the distance.

He couldn't understand why she wanted to get married on New Years. It's freezing cold but if it makes her happy then he should do it. It'll be his duty as a husband anyhow.

"Come!" Taehyung whines to him as he sits in the booth.

"I'm not having sex with a woman the day before I'm getting married. That'd be such a dickish thing to do," he counters as Taehyung wraps his arms around the stripper beside him.

"You've been celibate for a year or some shit. You abstaining for the Lord or for the sake of your new bride is not going to make you a born again virgin, okay?" the younger man asks with a laugh, running his hand over the stripper's pert backside.

Rolling his eyes, the Kisung CEO takes a sip from his drink.

"It's not about being a born again virgin, you moron. It's about fidelity. It's about trust. She and I agreed that we would just be for each other." Yoongi barks out gruffly.

Taehyung grimaces at the simple thought. "Fine. Well whatever pact you have with your blushing new bride is depressing me. I'm going to get my dick wet with… Luna. That's your name, right?" the hotel CEO asks the woman on his arm.

She giggles loudly, the sound frightening and way too forced. "Laura, silly!"

"Yeah. That. Bye Hyung. Try to cheer the fuck up or something." Tae calls, picking the stripper up with his strong arms before swinging her over his shoulder.

Yoongi snorts loudly, his eyes flitting from here to there in the large strip club. This wasn't for him anymore. He would be married now. To a woman all his.

He's been living in this fantasy. Waking up on weekend mornings next to his wife, eating breakfast together. Having a few kids. Being able to enjoy each other's company.

He loves the idea of that. He's gone through so much terrible pain in his lifetime. Maybe, fate is telling him he deserves a reward now.

Standing up, he finishes the rest of his drink. He tosses a few hundred bucks onto the table before heading out.

He knows it's not customary to see his bride the night before the wedding but, maybe he can just have a talk with her. He's dying to see her.

For once, Yoongi let someone else take the penthouse besides him. Sera should be fully comfortable before her big day.

They bought out the whole hotel. She wanted to be married in Italy on New Years. She wanted diamonds dripping from the fucking ceiling and she would have it. She would have it all.

The walk from the strip club to the hotel wasn't far. Yoongi can see the lights on in the penthouse and his heart begins to hammer in delight at the thought of seeing her.

She's so fucking beautiful. Albeit, she can be a little irritating at times but who isn't? She's almost godly in his eyes.

He's been waiting for this day since he was fourteen. He can remember when Namjoon got engaged. How fucking against it he was.

Joon always wanted to do things his way. He wanted to pick who he was with, he wanted to be happy on his own. He despised Yoona for years before their big day a year ago. Then he found out how similar they are. He fell in love with everything she's in love with.

Yoongi hopes it'll be the same.

The ride up the elevator to the penthouse is quiet. Gentle muzak plays that seems to lull him into a false sense of security.

Sera might be really big on traditions. She might have him sit in the living room for them just to talk but that's okay too. Whatever she wants.

The elevator opens silently and Yoongi fixes his blazer in the hallway mirror. He smiles to himself softly, looking like nothing can bring him down from this cloud.

Until he hears it. Until he hears the gentle groaning of a man in his sexual pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Sera. Do it again, you filthy slut." he hears and his world comes crashing down around him.

"Yeah, fuck. You like that? Your cock is so much bigger than Yoongi's. I want you to come play with me during the week while he's at work," she sounds breathless.

The CEO's eyes flutter shut and he grips onto the table before him to keep him steady.

"Yeah. I'd bet you'd fucking like that. I bet you love the idea of me fucking your little cunt while your husband is away at work. Let me cum in your pussy before the cuck gets home. You'll let him in this pussy with my cum inside of you," the voice is that of Sera's driver. The one man Yoongi never even gave any thought to.

His hand feels for the wall. His legs are shaking by now and he slowly slides down the gold wall, pressing his hand over his mouth.

"Cum on my cock, you fucking slut."

The sound of her orgasming will never leave his brain. He can hear how pleased she is.

Yoongi in his past has had sex with others too. But, they promised to be faithful to one another. He believed her.

He can feel his eyes welling up with tears as he squeezes them shut tighter.

He thought fate was giving him a helping hand. He was going to be happy! What has he done so wrong in his life for misery to consistently stay?!

Heavy breathing is heard throughout the silent penthouse.

"Why did you promise that stupid fuck you would be only for him?" Jungmo, the driver, asks breathlessly.

Sera giggles, a sound once so adorable it brought Yoongi to his knees.

"Because I want his fucking money. There's no prenup if he thinks I'm all for him. He genuinely thinks that I love him. He thinks I care about whatever the fuck has happened in his miserable past. Do you know that he told me that his dad used to burn cigarettes out on his skin? I was supposed to feel sorry for him." Jungmo and Sera laugh along with one another.

Yoongi's mouth opens at the sheer atrocity he's listening to. She's so fucking cruel. How did he never see this? How could he have this happen to him?

"You were supposed to feel sorry for that billionaire while you're only sitting barely comfortable at seven million!?"

"I know, right?! The fucking nerve! Like, he doesn't even understand that my life has been so much worse! I had to almost go fucking bankrupt! Who gives a fuck about your sad past? What about me?"

The CEO tugs at the blazer fabric situated above his heart. He clamps his hand tighter over his mouth to stifle the sob raring to break free from his throat.

"I can't wait to take all his fucking money and leave him with only his sad little memories."

Crawling over to the elevator, he pushes the button softly. Praying to God that it doesn't make any noise when it opens.

She's such a cruel bitch. So fucking vile.

He stands up on shaky legs as the door opens without a sound. Pushing the button for the floor below him, he waits until the door closes.

He waits until he is safe in his room.

He wails loudly, falling onto the carpeted flooring of the hotel room. He gasps for air, hands digging and pulling at his hair.

He cries for an hour, maybe more. Time seemingly stops in his distraught state.

When he calms himself down, he pulls out his phone. He crawls over to the bar caddy, wiping viciously at the tears he's spilled for the woman upstairs.

Yoongi doesn't even grab a glass, he just pulls the bottle of whisky down to the floor.

Sitting back against the long bar of the room, he dials the only number he can right now.

The sound of the phone ringing is so loud, it makes him want to weep all over again.

"Yoongi? It's two in the morning, what the fuck?" Namjoon calls blearily, through the phone.

"Joon… Please come to my room." his voice cracks and breaks as he picks up the bottle of whisky.

"Jesus, are you okay?" his best friend asks quickly.

"I need… I need a prenup. Please. Come." Yoongi begs, lifting the bottle to his lips.

"I'm coming! Hold on!" Joon calls to him before the line goes dead.

He gulps down the whisky at a ferocious speed, the liquor swirling and settling in his guts. The fire flaming and goading him on to no avail.

"YOU FUCKING WHORE!" he screams at the top of his lungs.

Yoongi launches the bottle across the room, burying his face into his knees as the sound of glass echoes all around him.

"Oh Yoongi. I'm so sorry," you whisper, clutching tighter to his hand.

Yoongi finds himself laughing at the memory now. He was so blind back then. So lovestruck.

"Nothing that isn't fixed now, little dove. Now we're both trapped in this marriage." his voice is devoid of emotion as he picks up the liquor bottle.

You can see how hurt he is even now. How reliving the memory is something akin to death to him.

You lean in towards his body. You press your lips to his cheek and he grabs you tighter at the feeling.

"Maybe that's why I liked you in the club? Because you seemed so completely opposite of the whore that lives in my house," he says finally as you pull away.

He turns his face to you, your lips just mere inches apart.

Yoongi lifts his hand, placing it gently on your cheek.

"You're a good girl, Y/N. You're so kind and sweet. Fucking understanding. You're going to be a great mother. I'm so sorry that you have to deal with me. Deal with an asshole every day. It isn't fair to you," he whispers, his thumb grazing over the apple of your cheek.

His hand is so warm against your skin, so soft. He's being so gentle.

"You're not an asshole. Not truly." you reply softly.

With a snort, he rolls his eyes. "See. You're almost too kind."

You giggle as his hand drifts down the column of your neck, his thumb rubbing over your jawline.

"I'm serious. You can be an asshole, for sure. But it's because of all the terrible things that have happened to you. If you were happy, really and truly happy. You might flourish. You might be able to find yourself again." you reply.

It comes out as a suggestion but it's really a wish. No one should ever be put through what he has had happen to him.

He tilts his head unsurely, pulling away from you.

"You're going to be a great dad. I won't let you be anything but a good dad to your child. No one is perfect, Yoongi. We can do this together." you say, earnestly.

Together.

The word makes his heart rate pick up speed.

You're pretty perfect in his eyes.

He can tell as you sit with one another, how heavy your eyelids are getting.

"You're tired," he observes.

"No, I'm okay!" you reply quickly to him.

He clicks his teeth, eyes narrowing at you. "We're going to be truthful with each other from here on in. Are you tired?"

With a hesitant hum, you nod. "A little. The baby makes me tired a lot these days."

"Okay." Yoongi whispers finitely.

Standing up, he moved your chair for you. With a simple grunt, he picks you up in his arms bridal style.

"I can walk!" you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"So can I." he jeers cutely.

Wading with sure steps through the house, you find how easy it is for him to look down at you. His eyes are soft when they look upon you now. Like telling you about his life has taken a huge weight off of his shoulders.

He kicks open your bedroom door with a smirk.

"There would have been a time I would have died to bring you up here to ravage you," he says, goodnaturedly.

"You still can." you sing softly as he lays you down on your bed.

"We'll see, hmm?" he whispers as he lifts the covers for you.

"Stay," you mumble, arranging the pillows to your liking.

"You want me to sleep with you?!" Yoongi feels frightened at the notion.

"Yeah… just stay. Don't leave me," you whisper as you close your eyes.

He hesitantly walks around to the other side of the bed. He fumbles with his pants and his shirt almost embarrassingly so.

Yoongi hasn't laid with anyone in years. He hasn't thought about doing so in ages.

"Did you leave?" your voice is just above a whisper.

He watches you for a second, how pretty and serene you look with your hair splayed over the pillow.

"No, little dove. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," he replies, laying down beside you.

Swallowing thickly, he gets comfortable under the same covers as you.

This is bizarre.

Tiredly, you pull his hand. His eyes go wide as you situate it over your stomach.

"It's not a big deal, Yoongi. Just sleep." You mumble as you turn onto your back.

He can feel the tiny bump developing under his hand.

It is a big deal.

To him.

He brushes some hair out of your face gently.

Maybe Sera wasn't his start to a new life. Maybe it's you.

Next Chapter ---->

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[sleepysnk]

i finally got around to making some skater!eren fics. i hope you all enjoy ♡!

Skater Guy

Pairings: Skater!Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: marijuana usage, vaping, mentions of alcohol

"Where are we going now?!"

"You'll see! It'll be fun!"

(Y/N) groaned as her roommate Sasha dragged her throughout the party house they were at. 

Sasha was always the party girl, whenever she needed someone to go with she always dragged her roommate into going with her. (Y/N) didn't have an issue with it, but some of the things Sasha liked to do weren't exactly her cup of tea. Of course, being the supportive person and friend she was, she always came with; plus who knows? Maybe she'd have some fun.

Sasha stopped in front of a door, (Y/N) had confusion written all over her face. "Uh.. what are we doing?" she asked, nodding. 

Sasha knocked on the door. "Going in of course? Connie invited us up here," she replied, looking at her with a grin. 

The door opened and it revealed Connie along with Jean beside him. "Hey! Finally you two made it, come on in!" he said, moving out of the way so the two could enter. 

(Y/N) stepped in with Sasha, there was a strong odor of alcohol and marijuana that lingered in the air. 

"Good to see you (Y/N)!" Jean said, smiling at her. 

She looked at him, "It's good to see you too Jean, how is Mikasa?" she asked. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, she's busy with school and all that other stuff. She's doing fine though," he shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. 

She nodded, taking a seat next to Sasha. "So what are we doing?" 

Sasha turned towards her, "Oh! So we're doing a smoke circle, you wanna join?"

Her face suddenly changed to a look of confusion, (Y/N) wasn't aware that this was what they were going to do tonight. She thought they'd just go out drinking, but smoking? She hadn't exactly tried it before. It'd be her first time.

"Uh.. Sasha I dunno, are you sure?" she asked, furrowing her brows. 

"Come on (Y/N)! At least try it, I know you'll like it," she said, placing her hand onto her shoulder. 

She leaned back in the chair, rubbing her temples. What was she going to get herself into? She wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of smoking with her friends, but there were unfamiliar people too, what if she did something embarrassing? 

"Is she good?"

Her attention averted to someone standing in front of her, it was a guy. 

"Yeah! She's fine Eren, it's just her first time," Sasha replied, a nervous smile on her face.

His green eyes trailed over to where (Y/N) was sitting, she felt intimidated by him, he was tall, had brown hair, these bright green eyes, and he wore really nice clothes. It almost reminded her of those guys she'd see on TikTok or Instagram. 

"Alright, well, Connie is getting the blunt rolled," he said, turning away from the two. 

She let out a sigh of relief as she watched the guy make his way towards Jean and the others. Who was this guy?

"Sorry about that (Y/N).. that's Eren, he's one of Connie's friends," Sasha said, looking at her apologetically.

She nodded, "It's fine, but Sasha seriously? I've never smoked and I don't know if I should do it.." she replied.

Sasha turned towards her, "You're gonna be fine, if you feel sick at all just leave the room, okay?" 

Before she could even reply, Connie and Jean came jogging over to the pair. "The blunt is officially rolled! Let's get started," Jean said, a smile on his face. 

(Y/N) swallowed thickly, her mind started to race and she could feel her stomach churning. 

"We'll go around in a circle, who wants the first hit?" Connie asked, holding the blunt into the air. 

"I'll go."

Everyone turned to see Eren holding out his hand for the blunt, in return Connie handed it to him along with a lighter. 

"Don't take two hits I know you like to do that shit," Connie said, plopping down next to Sasha.

(Y/N) watched as he held the blunt up to his lips, he flicked the lighter a few times before the end burned a bright red. She could see him inhaling the contents from the blunt, smoke poured from his mouth as he exhaled. 

"Whoever's next," he said, handing it to the person next to him; smoke still coming from his mouth as he spoke. 

She looked towards Sasha who was bouncing in her seat with excitement. "I cannot wait!" she smiled. 

(Y/N) secretly wished she could be excited right now, but being honest, she wanted to throw up and leave as soon as she could. At some point everyone would be watching her, it made her feel sick, almost like when she was in school and she'd get queasy doing a presentation for class. Only this time, she was smoking.

For some reason, she could feel someone's gaze on her; it was uncomfortable.

She turned her head to meet Eren's green eyes staring right at her. He sat directly across from her and his eyes didn't leave hers, even when she looked at him. She secretly wanted to ask what the fuck his staring issue was but she didn't want to make a scene, especially right now. 

She shook her leg and chewed her lip as the blunt got closer and closer to where she was sitting, and within a few minutes it was next to her, Sasha was taking a hit.

She made it look so easy, the way she just inhaled and blew it out of her mouth without a second thought made (Y/N) want to just get up and leave.

"Here ya go (Y/N)!" Sasha cooed, a lazy smile forming on her features.

She took the blunt from Sasha's hand, her wrist became shaky staring down at it. She could smell the marijuana coming from it, it was strong and the odor almost made her sneeze.

She held it up to her mouth and slowly inhaled, she could taste the drug on her tongue and feel it go down her throat to her lungs. Suddenly, things felt very slow, almost like time was slowed down. 

She felt fine for a good five or six seconds and that's when she felt the tickle in her throat, she coughed, letting any smoke that was in her mouth escape and flow into the air. 

"What a newbie!" Sasha said, giggling a bit. 

A few people in the circle laughed themselves, her cheeks burned from the embarrassment. "Whatever.." she mumbled, passing the blunt to Jean. 

She could feel the effects it had on her, her vision looked funny and she felt like she could take a nap right there. 

"You look so funny right now (Y/N), can you not handle it?" Sasha asked, looking at her. 

She snapped her head towards her. "Are you for real right now? Why do you have to embarrass me everytime this happens?" she asked, her tone sounding angry.

Sasha sat up a bit. "What? I didn't-" 

"Just save it, I'm going home, I shouldn't have come with you." 

(Y/N) stood up and grabbed her things, exiting the room she was previously in. She could feel holes being burned into her head as she left, even in her high state she was pissed at Sasha. It always happened and (Y/N) just wasn't having it at the moment. 

She exited the front doors of the house, the fresh air filling her lungs; it felt refreshing. Being in that stuffy room made her feel so trapped and not to mention that weirdo Eren guy was making her uncomfortable.

She found herself sitting on the curb, a few people passed by and laughed with their friends or cars picked them up. 

Her mind was clouded, she felt exhausted, and she just wanted to go home. Her night was totally ruined and she clearly embarrassed herself in front of everyone, it wasn't her fault she coughed. It was her first time and Sasha just made it worse, all she wanted to do was disappear from that room.

She squeezed her eyes shut a few times, her vision just wasn't focusing and she was surprised that she made it out of the house without falling on her ass or bumping into others. 

She felt her phone vibrate, she clicked it on and blinked a few times to see the messages on the screen; it was Sasha.

Sasha: y/n, i'm sorry :/

Sasha: please come back, i feel really bad..

She rolled her eyes, clicking off her phone, she didn't want to hear it right now. She couldn't even focus properly and she wasn't sure how the hell was she going to get home. 

"God.. why do I do this to myself.." she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. 

"Are you okay?"

She turned around instantly, that's when she was faced with the guy from earlier. Eren. He seemed to be concerned, almost frantic, it was almost like he was searching for her. 

"Are you following me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. 

He rolled his eyes, "No? Well.. sort of, you stormed off and your friend didn't even go back for you. I decided to see what was up," he shrugged.

She watched him make his way towards the curb, she scooched away from him as he sat.

"Damn, I'm not going to do anything to you. I know we just met but I'm not that guy," Eren said, looking towards her. 

She laughed a bit, "Yeah.. I've heard that one before.." she muttered. 

He let out a sigh. "Look.. I'm trying to be nice and help you out, clearly your friend didn't have the common sense to come check on you, so I decided to," he said. "Plus, you're high and I'd hate for anything back to happen to you."

She finally lifted her gaze off the floor, she could see he had a skateboard beside him. It made her nod; he skates?

"Well.. I think I'll be fine, I just wanted to get out of here," she said, playing with her nails.

Eren chuckled a bit, "You're not fine at all, I could tell when you yelled at Sasha you weren't fine. At least tell me what's up," he replied. 

Well he's stubborn she thought, she kind of figured that there wasn't any way she was going to be able to get away from this guy. He seemed like the type who wouldn't let shit go until someone finally tells him what's going on, plus she wasn't exactly in the mood to argue. 

She sniffed a bit, "Sasha has always been the party girl, when we first met she dragged me to so many parties and it was starting to get crazy. She was the first person I got drunk with, skinny dipped with, hell, even got high with.." 

"And you're getting tired of that kind of lifestyle because you feel like Sasha always dips on you in the end," Eren said, raising his brows. 

She looked at him with surprise. "That's what it feels like to be honest.." she mumbled, placing her hand onto her calves. "She always embarrasses me with her jokes.." 

Eren shook his head, "Seems like Sasha has issues making you seem like you can't do certain things," he said. 

She laughed a bit, "I guess you could say that.. I love her dearly but it just made me so angry when she said that about me. It was my first time and I guess she just forgot that," she replied.

"I'd say you should talk to her about it, if she is really your best friend, she'd listen to what is bothering you. Trust me, I'm sure Sasha will be open ears," he said, placing his hand onto her shoulder. 

Her cheeks suddenly heated up from the contact, seeing Eren up close was definitely different than him just standing over her. She saw the rings he wore glimmering in the moonlight, she could also faintly smell the weed coming from his clothes. He also wore a chain with a small key at the bottom, it fit him so well. 

"I'm sure she will.." she replied, looking at the street.

Eren looked at his phone. "You got an Uber coming or something?" he asked, looking at her then back at his phone. 

She laughed, "No I actually don't.. I was going to call one before you came over."

He nodded, "Do you want to maybe.. get out of here? Not in a sexual way or anything! But you've had a shitty night and I'd like to make it a bit better," he asked. 

She stared at her shoes, she didn't exactly know how to respond to him. Would going with Eren be a good idea? She didn't exactly know him, but she didn't want to wait on the curb for an Uber and sulk all night about how mad she was. Plus, she was high and she didn't want to do something stupid. 

"What would we do?" she asked, looking at him. 

Eren looked at her with a nod. "Anything you want! But I do have one idea.." he said, shoving his phone into his pocket. 

She furrowed her brows, "And that is?" 

He turned and grabbed his skateboard. "Do you wanna learn? It's really fun and it'll be funnier since we're both a little high," he said, smiling at her. 

(Y/N) sat there for a second in silence, she could go home or she could go hangout with Eren and have a good time. Fuck it, why not?

"Yeah! Sure, let's go," she replied, standing up and dusting off any small stones that were on her bottom. 

Eren stood up himself, "Sounds good! Let's go down to the park, it's like right around the corner," he said. 

He took his skateboard and stuck it under his arm, (Y/N) trailed behind him as he made his way towards the sidewalk. 

"So um.. how long have you been skateboarding?" she asked, trying to ease the awkwardness between them. 

Eren looked at her with a smile. "I actually started when I was in high school, sports weren't exactly my thing, so I started to skate and I've been here ever since," he replied.

She looked at the ground, the leaves beneath her shoes crunching as she stepped on them. "That's cool.. you didn't seem like the skater type," 

"Anyone can be a skater, I just don't flaunt it like some people," he laughed. 

Her eyes averted his face, she could see the silver earrings he wore; a cross hanging at the bottom of the ring. It was silver and it shone in the moonlight. 

Eren reached into his pocket, pulling out a bright pink object. "Want some?" he asked, holding it out to her. 

She looked down to what seemed to be a vape, Sasha had always brought those home or she'd find them under her pillow. 

"No thanks, vaping isn't really my thing." she replied, looking forward. 

Eren nodded his head, holding the vape up to his lips; she watched him inhale the contents. A bright red light lit up at the end.

"So what is your thing?" Eren asked, blowing the vapor out of his mouth. 

She could faintly smell the odor of the juice. "What do you mean?" 

He looked towards her, "Well.. smoking isn't your thing, nor is vaping, so.. what is your thing?" 

She chewed her cheek, what was her thing? She hadn't ever thought about it before. Drinking? That sounded lame. Maybe her major? Again, lame. 

"I dunno.. I never really thought about it," she replied, shrugging. 

Eren began to make his way towards the grass. "Come, it's over here," he said, waving her over to him. 

She followed behind him as he led through the trees towards the park, she could faintly see a playground and behind it was a skating area with different drops and turns. She had always seen them in movies, but she never knew there was one this close to where she lived. 

Eren walked past the playground and stood before a drop that led into the whole thing. 

"So this is it huh?" she asked, coming beside him to look. 

Eren smiled, "Yeah, it is. I'm not gonna make you do this though, I gotta teach you slowly," he replied. He placed his skateboard onto the ground, his right foot pressing onto the board. "Let me show you how I do it,"

She backed up a bit to give him room, he used his left foot to push himself forward, within seconds he was moving slowly along the pavement. 

"It's all about balance, I remember my balance was shit, but after awhile you'll get used to it," he said, turning the board to move towards her. 

She nodded, "So kind of like a balance beam?" 

He chuckled, "Something like that, the only difference is you're moving and there's no padding at the bottom," he grinned. Eren slowed down to a stop in front of her, hopping off the board he looked at her. "Want to give it a try? I'll make sure you don't fall," 

She shook her head, placing her items on the ground and heading towards him. "So.. what do I do first?" she asked, looking down at the board. 

He brushed a few strands of his hair out of his face. "Start slow, don't try anything fancy or cool, just go at a normal pace." he replied. "Here.."

She looked down to see his hand outstretched for her to take. She could faintly see the tattoo on his knuckles, along with his silver rings. 

"Put your right foot on the board," he said, laughing a bit. 

She did what she was told, her legs feeling slightly wobbly from the moving board. "Okay.." she said, taking his hand. 

Eren's cheeks grew pink from the contact, her hand was so warm compared to his cold ones. "Good.. now we're gonna move slowly, it's important you don't freak out, or you'll fall over and hurt yourself. Got it?" he asked, nodding. 

She shook her head, placing her other foot onto the board. She could feel it swaying beneath her feet, her hands went to Eren's arms, she could feel his muscles flexing beneath his jacket. 

"Shit! Shit! I think I'm gonna fall!" she cried, gripping his sweater tighter. 

Eren's hands went to her waist. "Relax! (Y/N), I need you to relax. If you freak out, you'll fall on your ass, just breathe," he said, looking into her eyes. 

She swallowed thickly, her heart was racing and her legs felt like they were jelly. The idea of falling wasn't exactly the most thrilling thing ever, she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of him, especially since he totally saw her do it earlier in the smoke circle. 

"Just relax.. I'll slowly start moving you," he said. "You won't fall, not if I'm here," 

Her cheeks grew warm, he sounded so sweet and it started to put her body at ease. "Okay, okay, I think I got it," she said, taking a few deep breaths. 

The board began to move slowly down the cement ground, she squeezed the fabric of his jacket; almost like her life depended on it. 

"Like that.. you got this," Eren said, a smile forming on his face. 

He slowly walked down with her, making sure she wasn't going to fall off. "How many people have you taught?" she asked, looking at him. 

"Uh.. only you," he replied, chuckling a bit.

She looked at him, "Oh! Comforting!" 

He rolled his eyes playfully, "I'm joking.. I have taught tons of people. It's a long process you just have to trust, like right now," he replied. 

Slowly, Eren's grip on her waist loosened. She could feel her legs becoming slightly wobbly again, her hands were clinging to his arms still. 

"Where are you going?!" she asked, frantically looking at him. 

He smiled, "You gotta let go, I promise you won't fall," 

She scoffed as Eren took her hands off of his arms, the board going down the sidewalk a bit quicker this time. Suddenly, she felt like she had the confidence, almost like Eren letting go made her want to go faster. 

"Wait! This isn't that bad!" she yelled, smiling as the board went further down the sidewalk. 

Eren smiled watching her go down the sidewalk, he knew she could do it. "You got this!" he called back. 

He began to follow her down the sidewalk, he wanted to make sure nothing would go wrong; he'd get mad at himself if she got hurt. 

"You're doing really good!" he said, jogging up to her. 

She smiled to herself about it, maybe skating wasn't so bad? It was really fun and she got the hang of it pretty easily.. well not that easily. 

"Wait Eren.. how do I slow down?" she asked, looking towards him. 

He looked at the board and back at her. "Just put your right foot on the end of it," he replied.

She tried to lift her foot, but unfortunately, she got a little wobbly; the front of the board flew up and her left leg got caught. 

"Woah!" Eren said, putting his arms around her before she could hit the ground. 

Her back was pressed against his chest. "Shit.. I'm sorry," she said, looking at the ground. 

He chuckled, "You're good, don't worry about it," 

Eren helped her stand up straight. "Well that was embarrassing.. but it's really fun!" she said, smiling.

Eren liked seeing the excitement on her face, it made him grin, she seemed to be a really cool girl. "It is fun, I'm glad you liked it," he replied. "But we should get back, it's pretty late, not to mention that cops come around here later."

"Sounds good!" she nodded, making her way back to where her stuff was. 

Eren grabbed his skateboard off the floor and followed after her. "Do you have an Uber coming?" he asked.

She looked over at him. "Oh! No I don't, I might just walk back to the party and find Sasha."

He nodded, "I can walk you back," he replied. 

She smiled, "I'd love that."

Eren smiled before making his way down the path towards the house, he wasn't sure what time it was, but for some reason he didn't want it to end. He liked spending time with (Y/N), even though they just met, he felt like they had a genuine connection. 

"So.. do you go to Sina University?" she asked, looking at him. 

Eren nodded, "I do actually! Do you?"

"I do, I can't believe I've never seen you before though," she replied.

She rubbed her arms together which caught Eren's attention, she was wearing a tight black shirt with a skirt. 

"Here.." Eren said, handing her his skateboard. "Hold this for a second,"

She took the board from his hands and watched him remove his jacket, he held it out for her to grab. "Take it, you're freezing and I don't want you getting sick," he said, smiling. 

Her face heated up, "Thank you.." she took the jacket from his hands and draped it over her shoulders.

"It looks good on you," Eren said, eyeing her form. 

She giggled, "Sort of? It's really big though," 

Eren stopped in front of the house, many people still stood around outside talking and music still blasted from the inside. He assumed it probably wasn't too late if people were still around, unless they'd rather stay and get drunk.

"Well, this was.. something!" she said, looking up at him.

Eren laughed through his nose. "It was.. but I definitely enjoyed it. Even if we just met," he replied. 

"I'll see you around?" she said, nodding. 

"Yeah, see you around." he replied, clutching his skateboard in his hands. 

He watched as she began to make her way up the driveway, but something in him didn't want to just let her go. She was sweet, pretty, definitely one of a kind, and Eren didn't want it to be a one time thing. 

"Wait!"

(Y/N) turned around, confusion written all on her features. "Huh? What happened?" she asked, walking towards him again.

He looked away for a second, his cheeks growing pink. "Can I get your number? Snapchat? Anything? I really don't want this to be the last time I see you," he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Her surprised face turned into a happy one. "Of course, here, I'll put my number in," she replied.

Eren fumbled around for his phone, handing it to her as quickly as he could. He watched her press the different keys around to enter her number, his heart racing in his chest. 

"Here you go! I'll see you around Eren," she said, waving at him. 

Eren smiled as she walked into the house, maybe he'd have a skating partner sometime soon.

[heartbreakgrill]

Love Song; Corbyn Besson

description: yeah just some good ol’ friends to lovers 😋

Your face clenched up as the nurse swabbed your nose. The urge to sneeze came over when she tugged it out, and you quickly pulled up your mask. After a round of watery eyes and the oddest facial expression, the sneeze subsided.

“Thank you,” you told her, a laugh dancing at the edge of you tone.

Her eyes crinkled, showing the smile beneath her mask. “You’re welcome. It’ll just be a minute.”

You stood from the chair, plopping down beside Zach on the couch. He was playing on his phone, but looked up when he noticed your presence.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” He watched your hand rub at your nose over the mask.

“Uh, yeah,” you chuckled.

Zach went back to his phone and you unlocked your own, crossing a leg over the other. Soon, his name was called and he snapped off his mask. Negative.

Daniel replaced Zach in the seat beside you. You bid him hello and he said, “Hey. How are you today?”

“Was doing fine before I had to have a stick in my nose,” you giggled.

Daniel laughed as well. “Yeah, but whatever we have to do to get to celebrate.”

“New normal,” you nodded.

“Y/N!” The other nurse called out from her clipboard.

You flashed your eyebrows at Daniel and stood from the couch. Slipping your phone into your butt pocket, you walked over to the table.

“You are negative, my dear. We’re having everyone who has already been tested to stay in the kitchen.”

You took the packet of your information from the nurse, thanked them again, and joined Zach, Corbyn, and Christian in the kitchen. You slipped the pink mask in your jean jacket pocket as you took the empty bar stool next to Christian.

“Hey, guys,” you greeted.

Corbyn perked up at the sound of your voice, peaking up from his phone. He was directly across from you, leaning his chin against the ball of his palm. You glanced around at the boys, meeting his eyes over the top of his phone.

“Hey, Y/N, when did you get here?” Christian spoke, drawing your eyes away from Corbyn.

You cleared your throat and folded your hands in your lap. They were clammy now, budding heat throughout your face. His eyes.

“Like ten minutes ago. I said I was here in the group chat,” you reminded Christian.

He shrugged, “I don’t really pay attention.”

“Rip,” you laughed.

Zach and Christian went back to their conversation about the album, the only valid topic of interest for the night ahead.

You glanced back over at Corbyn, who had shifted so he could pretend like he hadn’t blushed at your presence. You sat there for a moment, contemplating saying anything at all. Ultimately you settled on tugging out your phone again.

You leaned on the counter, scrolling through people’s Instagram stories. You swiped past Why Don’t We’s shared page and fell on Corbyn’s. It was a selfie, one he took mere moments before you sat down. You flushed red, eyes gently lifting to take in how he looked right now.

His eyes.

You forced an awkward smile at the awkward eye contact, feeling...awkward.

You looked back down at your phone. It seems everyone of the boy’s friends and family members had posted about the album. Except you. You felt slightly guilty, voicing your concerns to the boys before you. Jonah and Daniel had since joined you guys in the kitchen, talking with Christian and Zach.

“No worries, Y/N. I mean, you’re here,” Jonah shrugged it off.

Zach added, “Yeah, but if you wanna post something go ahead.

“Why don’t we just take a selfie or something?” Daniel suggested, tipping his water bottle towards the phone in your hand.

“Oh, yeah. That’s good. I know it doesn’t matter, but I really want you guys to get number 1 on the charts,” you grinned sheepishly.

Jack appeared beside you, slinging on arm around your shoulder. You noticed Corbyn shift again, gulping and eyeing Jack’s arm.

“Oh, we will, Y/N, we will,” he winked at you.

You laughed loudly at his expression. “I believe in you, Jack Avery.”

He squeezed your shoulder. Everybody moved to stand around you, Corbyn ending up too far away. You tried to see where it was he was standing, just because you felt comfortable being able to see him, seeing you. But you couldn’t.

You were attempting to hold the phone out far enough to get everyone in frame, but your arm wasn’t long enough. Everybody laughed at your struggle. Jonah took the phone from you and angled it at the group. He snapped the photo and everyone dispersed.

Jonah ended up in the seat across from you, Zach next to him where he had been. Daniel, Jack, and Christian decided to start pouring drinks, since it was nearing 11 pm. Corbyn stood there for a minute, contemplating running off the edge of the world.

He settled in the seat beside you which drew your attention from your phone. You had been captioning the Instagram post, struggling to come up with something interesting.

“Hey, Corbyn,” you weakly smiled.

He smiled. “Hey.” His voice made your knees weak.

You flashed the screen at him, pushing down the red blush willing itself to paint your face. “What do you think I should caption it?”

“I don’t know,” he let out a breathy laugh, “uh, maybe a joke. Like, track 4 was written about me.”

You shared a laugh with him, happy nothing felt stuffed of weird energy for even a mere few minutes of conversation.

“That would be really funny, but probably cause some drama. How about, like, ‘dibs on Love Song?’ Because I genuinely feel like that ones gonna be so good.”

Corbyn gulped, “I wrote that one with Daniel.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “Then, I call it.”

Red cheeks all around.

You quickly posted it. Soon, the room was engulfed with music, the 3 singles the boys had released filling the air. There was a single camera on the band, standing around the kitchen island you had once been sitting at.

You stood to the side with Anna and Kay, a glass of champagne in your hand. You had since abandoned your Jean jacket, revealing the flowery, thin strapped corset that left your midrif out in the open. You felt really hot, be it because of the outfit, your sparse interactions with Corbyn, or the alcohol beginning to take hold of your bones.

See, there was something there with Corbyn, something nobody really even knew about. In fact, you didn’t even know if Corbyn himself remembered.

You had been good friends with the entire band since they moved to LA, attending concerts when you weren’t in school and hanging out constantly. Of course, as any pathetic pining story went, you’d been in love with Corbyn since you’d met him, but his heart had always belonged to Christina.

When you discovered they broke up, you felt elated for half a second. Then, he called you in tears.

“I know we’re not expectionally close, but I need somebody. The guys, they just don’t understand.l

Since that moment, you guys had been attached at the hip. Quarantine had been boring at first, terrifying, even. But, then you’d begun to spend every waking moment with Corbyn. You were the one who suggested he dye his hair black, had helped him do it. you’d gone with him when the tattoo shops opened again and helped him pick which one looked best. You’d helped them move into their new house, helped Corbyn decorate his new space. Hell, you’d even suggested a song lyric or two when laying on Corbyn’s bed, listening to him across the room on his guitar.

And then, on your birthday a few months ago, you had gotten exceptionally drunk to drown the sorrows of lusting after your best friend. When the clock struck midnight, Corbyn had already hauled down a taxi from the bar, slung your arm around his neck, cradling your waist as he tried to get you inside.

Out of nowhere, the sky began pouring buckets of rain. You fell against his chest, laughing hysterically at the ironically cliche moment. Corbyn somehow nuzzled his nose into your neck, giggling along with your drunken haze.

You pulled back gently, the closeness emitting a fierce confidence in your gut which enabled you to lean up and kiss him. He kissed you back, but when he remembered how drunk you were, he tugged away.

“I can’t do this,” he urged, but you mistook his respect for consent as rejection.

You mumbled, “But I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t remember for a few days after, what had happened that night. All you knew was you had woken up in Corbyn’s bed, his clothes on you, a headache in your head, and your dress soaking wet over the bathtub.

Then, a few days later, when you were perched on Corbyn’s bed, watching an episode of Big Mouth, he made a joke about how, “in love you are with,” him. Your eyes widened, breath hitched, and a memory pulled itself from your brain. You suddenly stood up, his arm dropping to the comforter since it had been around your shoulders.

You made some excuse about homework, though you both knew you had finished your finals the night prior. Since then, neither of you had really spoken at all.

You clenched the champagne glass between your fingers, turning them white from frustration. You felt a hand on your shoulder, turning towards Anna.

“Everything okay?” She glanced between your eyes, noticing the tears welled up there.

You sniffled and blinked the tears away. One dribbled down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away. Anna’s bottom lip jutted out in a pitiful expression and she pulled you into a hug. You wanted to collapse into her, sobbing your way through the album’s release. But, you squeezed your face shut and grabbed the composure that was running away from you.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you tugged back and set your glass on the table beside you. You quickly strode to the bathroom, shutting it behind you.

You wiped under your eyes with a wet cloth, salvaging your eye makeup. Your eyes were still red, though, red and pupils blown up in a sad countenance.

There was a knock on the door and you tensed up. Daniel’s voice came from the other side of the door, soft and sweet.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

You already knew he had seen you crying on Anna, and probably watched you storm away as quietly as one could when they were this upset. You were taking him away from his night and that made you feel just horrible.

“Yeah,” your voice was weak.

Daniel gently opened the door. He didn’t try to hug you or tell it was going to be okay. Instead, he cradled your face in his head, pushing the hair back from your cheeks.

“I know. You don’t have to explain or try to push me away. I just know. All I can give is the fact that we wrote these songs about our lives. These songs are personal.”

You met his eyes, swimming in the undemanding answers he was laying in front of you. “What do you mean?”

He gave a warm smile, “Corbyn got really good at songwriting. Just listen.”

You hugged Daniel quickly before shutting off the light. He slung his arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to the kitchen. Everyone counted down for midnight and soon enough, the new songs were blasting through the kitchen.

You anticipated Love Song through the entirety of Be Myself, barely paying any attention to the song that you knew Daniel wrote exclusively by himself. Soon, Daniel’s voice was dancing through the speakers in an upbeat rhythm, singing the literal love song.

Right after, Corbyn’s voice came again.

“You came out of nowhere like a hurricane.”

You perked up, holding yourself together with your arms. Daniel caught your eyes and nodded firmly. Your eyes flickered across the room and met Corbyn‘s. He’d been watching you for a while, you settled. Though his band mates and friends were dancing around the kitchen, he was solemnly drinking his own champagne. His hair was damp from the bottle Jonah had cracked open at midnight.

“Pulled me in and kissed me in the rain. And I fell for you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You found his eyes again, your face bright red. An overwhelming grin came over you. Corbyn smiled in response, a dry chuckle shaking his shoulders. He shook his head, finally relieved.

You set down your glass again, tapping Anna on the shoulder. “I’ll be back, k?”

She squeezed your shoulder again, still feeling sympathetic. You looked to Corbyn and nodded towards the back door.

You slipped outside, taking a seat on one of the pool chairs. It was dark outside, only the light from the kitchen washing through the glass sliding doors.

You heard the doors open and close again, looking up from your shoes. You stood up, breathing in deeply. Corbyn stopped in front of you, fingers squeezing each other.

You nervously smiled up at him. “So...” you ached, “so, um, I guess I really did call track 4.”

Corbyn laughed, his hands coming around to your back. He pushed you into his chest, yours going up around his neck.

“Yeah,” his face drew back, “and it was about you.”

You grinned, pursing your lips to try and push it down. But, you were tired of pushing it all down, so you let your lips widen before landing themselves on Corbyn’s.

“You could be the one, girl you’re driving me crazy.”