#btw my toes already started to ache from the cold

[coffeeworldsasaki]

I want to do other things but I'm forced to finish my second glove 😠

[silverdelirium]

hii!

idk if ur request are still open but if they are, could you write something with the marauders?? maybe dilf!sirius or stripper!reader?? (only if you’re confortable with it!)

btw i loved your theo smut😭<3

STRIP CLUB | S.B

ty baby<3

summary: your best friend’s dad finds you working at a strip club.

warnings: small sir kink, squirting, oral ( female receiving ), fingering, bit of drinking at the start, small degrading, praising.

———

sirius needed a drink and he needed it now.

he didn’t even acknowledge what club he stumbled on, but from the view it gave, they had alcohol. and that’s all that mattered to sirius. he needed to wash away all stress, rage, and irritation from today; and what better way to do it than getting drunk?

“one firewhiskey” he demanded once he settled on the barstool at the bar. the young bartender giving a quick nod and getting to work.

it was then that sirius had a chance to look around, the place was cluttered with people. loud chatter almost drowning out the music. he realized everyone’s sight was settled onto the centre of the room.

sirius craned his neck to get a good look at what seemed to be catching everyone’s interest.

ah, he thought.

this is a strip club.

he hummed in acknowledgement when the bartender placed his drink in front of him, whisking it away and walking closer to the scene as the alcohol burned his throat, a low vibration bubbled from his chest at the taste, already getting rid of all that pent up tension in his muscles.

the atmosphere in the club had suddenly changed when sirius finished his drink. everyone went quiet before cheering loudly when two beautiful women stepped on the stage. the one at the right had red lingerie on, hugging her body in all the right places. her bronze skin seemed to compliment the colour of her attire and her long dark hair moved in rhythm with her movements. the one at the left had a pink with a black corset on, a small thong leaving little to the imagination. sirius eyes travelled from her smooth legs to her defined waist, to her pushed up cleavage and to her- face.

the realization came crashing down on sirius like a bucket of cold water.

there you were. his daughter’s best friend all dolled up dancing to the beat of the music around the pole. and he silently cursed himself for getting hard at the same little girl that visits his house every weekend. did you always go to his house after giving this people a good show? giving them something for their little wank-bank?

as much as he hated to admit it, the mere image of you dancing sensually could’ve had him cumming on the spot. he also hated to admit that the fact that he wasn’t the only person in this place was bringing back that wrath that he had earlier.

was he supposed to be able to compose himself around you from now on? was he supposed to not have you over his knee the next time he had you alone. giving you an orgasm for every set of eyes that were watching you waltz around the stage?

his fingers twitched along with his cock when he saw you bend down to let a batty old man hand you a 100 dollar tip.

and that’s when your eyes met his piercing ones.

you seemed to freeze at his presence for a few moments before you were back to dancing, your vision still glued to his.

and the subtle smirk he sent your way was enough to confirm that— you were getting your brains fucked out by sirius black after this.

after a few more dances and tips, you and your friend got off the stage, your head snapping back to meet sirius’s direction; who was still staring at you with hooded eyes.

you threw him a lazy smile before making your way to the loo, knowing damn well that sirius was just a few steps behind you. the door barely touched the doorframe before he was wringing it open with such force that had you giving a small gasp when he abruptly grabbed ahold of your jaw, turning your head up at him.

“i didn’t know you could dance like that” were the first words he spoke to you in the whole evening.

“you barely know me at all, sir” you teased. the nickname you addressed him as seemed to spark something in him. and a short chuckle came from sirius before he was smashing his lips to yours, letting go of your face to knead the softness of your bum, he hooked a finger on the waistband of your thong before letting it snap back on your flesh, coaxing a whimper from your mouth.

“you filthy little thing, getting me all hard in front of everyone. you’re gonna have me thinking of this pretty pussy for the rest of the week, and i’m gonna have you looking all ruined once i’m done with you” he growled in between kisses, hoisting you up on the counter and advancing his kisses downwards on your neck.

you threw your head back with a blissful sigh as sirius grazed his teeth against your sweet spot, your body ignoring the alarms going off on your brain that screamed: this is your best friend’s dad! what are you doing? but with the way sirius crouched down so he was at level with your sopping cunt, his beard giving you that delicious burn that you were gonna feel for the rest of the night, you really couldn’t give less of a fuck that this was wrong.

“oh fuck” you whispered as sirius dragged your panties down, groaning slightly at the sight of your dripping pussy. “fuck baby, can’t wait to have this tight pussy milking me dry” he mumbled before diving in, lapping up at your juices in an instant.

you released a strangled moan as sirius flicked his tongue over your buzzing clit, the pads of his fingers teasing your slit. your hands flew down to grip his hair as he entered two fingers at one, sucking around your bundle of nerves in a way that had you curling your toes.

“oh my god, sir-” you moaned out, thighs shaking with anticipation at the same time sirius curled his fingers upwards, caressing your g-spot in the most dazzling way ever.

he continued his assault on your clit whilst his fingers pumped in and out of you, the stimulation provoking that coil in your belly to snap without a warning. “i’m gonna fucking cum” you managed to whine out, bucking your hips up before cumming around sirius’ fingers, not even giving him time to respond.

your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you cried out in pure euphoria— your mind barely registered when was it that sirius had stood up, fingers working rapidly against his belt before letting his engorged cock spring out, he stroked a few times before nudging your stimulated clit with the tip, watching with hungry eyes as you jolted your hips upwards as a silent plea.

“beg” he demanded.

“wha-”

“beg for it. show me how much of a desperate slut you are.” his eyes were darkened with lust as he spoke each word.

“please— please. i need it, i want you to fuck me hard and fast, sir. please” you pouted, giving him your best puppy eyes that you knew would always get you what you wanted.

“atta girl” he purred before pushing himself inside your gushing pussy, quivering cries leaving your lips like a chant.

sirius settled for a bruising pace since the start, rocking his hips into yours until you had your back arched, giving him a clear view of your breasts that were still trapped in the corset from earlier.

“so tight baby— can’t wait to see my cum painting this pretty thighs” he moaned, gripping hour hips harshly before fastening his speed, dirty sounds of clapping skin echoing throughout the bathroom.

you went cross-eyed as his tip destroyed your g-spot, tiny stars decorating your vision with every harsh thrust. you screamed his name over and over again until your throat became tired, reaching your fingers down to soothe your aching bundle of nerves.

your hand was swatted away by none other than the male who gave you a look before massaging your clit tightly. “who is making you feel this good, pretty girl?” he taunted, a prideful smirk making its way to his lips as he watched you babble his name, cunt squeezing his cock that was still drilling into your hole.

“look at that sweet cunt squeezing me. i’m gonna have the whole club knowing who’s making you feel this fucking good” he grunted.

you went to answer him but the only thing that came out was a shattering moan as you squirted all over the bathroom’s counter, soaking yours and sirius’ thighs.

“fuck!” he moaned as he pumped you full with his load. rope after rope spraying your walls.

ragged breaths filled the room as he carefully slid out of you, both slowly coming down from cloud nine. sirius grunted at the view of your overused pussy blowing out his cum. counter completely drowned in your arousal.

“round two at the house?” you suggested.

———

🏷: @selenesheart @malfoy-girl

[hoezhatelola]

His Girl

Baji Keisuke x Reader

warnings: dom!baji, sub!fem!reader, toman AU, degradation kink, size kink, gun kink, NSFW 18+, fingering, cunnilingus, idfk what else to put here

a/n: this was kind of rushed but i was suddenly motivated to write a baji smut so here you go all you horny readers :)

sorry if this sucks, terrible case of writers block lately. btw everyone’s aged up !

__________________________________________

everyone who knew baji knew that he was a man who kept his priorities straight. those priorities consisted of toman, his few friends, business, and ever since two years ago- you. despite what everyone assumed, you were okay with not being his first priority. it was normal for you to stay up til the latest hours of the night, awaiting his arrival. it was normal for you to wake up with a cold, empty spot beside you on the mattress.

you never bothered him about what it exactly was that he did inside of toman, or what his so called “business” really was. you knew he was a bit shady, but at the end of the day, when he’s pulling you closer into his chest at 4 a.m., breathing in your scent and peppering kisses onto your forehead, it didn’t matter.

everyone from moebius to valhalla knew that you were his girl. of course, there had been a few instances in the past where baji had to get his hands dirty and correct a few guys for looking at you in the way that only he can look at you.

despite what had become the norm, tonight was different. you were cozy on the couch in the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, a blanket wrapped around your form that was covered with only one of baji’s t-shirts and your lace undies. you sipped on your hot chocolate, slightly jumping as a weak knock sounded on the door.

you got up and went on your tippy toes to peek through the tiny hole, and as you expected you saw baji, his scratched up face and tired eyes looking downwards. your delicate fingers took care of all of the extra locks baji had installed, and you opened the door swiftly.

“finally! i was waiting for yo-” you froze as you looked up at him, his usually narrowed eyes now slightly wider and teary. “baby? what’s the matter?” you took your hand, much smaller than his own, and grabbed his arm to pull him inside before closing and locking the door behind him.

“s too much.. can’t do it ‘nymore…” he muttered, his head now collapsing onto your shoulder. you ran a hand through his black locks as he stood up straight, peering down at you with that same, sad and guilty look. you planted a kiss on his jaw and cupped his cheek. “what’s too much, my love?”

he only looked into your eyes, not speaking as his brows furrowed and a tear silently fell, staining his cheek. he brought his face closer and your lips connected, his tongue rapidly entering your mouth and exploring it with dominance.

“mmh… w-wait, aauh..” you mumbled into his mouth, trying to speak to him. with prior consent, both you and baji had agreed on a safe word and so, naturally, protests such as ‘wait’ or ‘stop’ or ‘slow down,’ meant absolutely nothing to him.

he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, his hands resting under your thighs and slamming you down onto the bed that you shared. you looked up at him with lust-filled eyes, and his expression darkened as he bent down and tore apart your thighs.

“look at you…” he chuckled against your skin, nibbling on your inner thigh and running a finger along your clothed slit. “such a fucking mess for me already.” you could tell he was getting a kick out of you feeling embarrassed, and it was his sick way of making you feel good.

he looked up at you once more and you nodded before he tore apart your panties, hungrily eyeing your glistening womanhood that ached for his touch. the first warm lick against your sensitive bud caused you to shiver, and after enjoying your reaction he utterly devoured your pussy. two of his skilled fingers entered your hole without warning, causing you to gasp and arch your back in ecstasy.

the pink muscle continued to suck and flick at your clit, your core immediately tightening, the coil nearly snapping. “s so good… gon’ cum s-s-soon.” you purred, and he gripped your thighs even harder than before, lapping at your folds and chuckling into your pussy, the vibrations causing you to snap.

the coil became fully undone, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking bus, your legs shaking and a loud moan invading your room. “that’s my fucking girl. such a good little cumslut, yeah?” you mindlessly nodded in response, lost in bliss. you snapped back to reality when a small click could be heard, and a cold metal was pressed between your thighs.

in his slender hand you saw his gun, and you jumped up, pulling away. “relax, it’s not loaded... just looks so good next to that pretty pussy.” he rubbed the edge of it up and down your slit, and as you came down from your orgasm you sure as hell were ready for more. you needed more.

“i want you…” you said, making grabby hands in the direction of his dick. the gun slid into your mouth as you whimpered in response. “suck.” he ordered, and you knew better than to disobey him.

“you want what? my big cock in that tight cunt?” he grunted in your ear and you nodded, gagging over and over again on his gun as he continued to push it down your throat. you looked up at him beneath your lashes, your cheeks hollowing as strings of saliva ran down his hand. “fuck… don’t look at me like that.”

he unclasped his belt and looked down at you. despite his rough tone and usual severe degradation towards you, his eyes were asking for consent, to which you nodded. he positioned himself at your entrance and slowly slid in, inch by fucking inch. once you were stuffed full of his eight inches, he huffed and leaned in to your ear, thrusting once without warning.

you mewled loudly, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he chuckled, basking in the feeling off your velvety walls pulsating around him. “you’re a bigger whore than i thought… already screaming for me and i’ve barely,” he trusted once more as you moaned, “fucking,” and again he thrusted even harder, “started.”

“kei… s-slow down.” you gasped, clawing at his chest and leaving crescent shaped marks along his shoulders. “what?” he chuckled, “you want me to slow down?” he imitated you by slightly raising his voice before grabbing your neck and pulling you upwards, his lips now touching the shell of your ear. “can’t take my fat cock in that tiny little pussy, hah..”

baji paid special attention to the way your cunt sucked in his girth, groaning at the sight of your throbbing clit begging to be touched by him. he knew your body so well at this point that your walls had molded to shape him, that his eyes flickered to that one spot of your lower stomach, now staring at the bulge that gently bobbed up and down beneath your skin. hell, your pussy was made to take his cock so fucking well.

“f-fuck.. gah.. k-kei, im-” “close? already?” he cut you off. you nodded hastily in response, feeling that familiar warm sensation in your stomach that only he could make you feel. he pressed his hand down on your lower stomach, his dick twitching at the feeling of him inside of you. “fucking pathetic… you can barely last with me fucking your brains out, hm? you’re my dirty fucking slut, aren’t ya?”

you looked up and looked eyes with him, your expression begging to gush all over his length. “y-yes.. ‘m your sl-slut.” you choked on your own words, feeling the air knock out of your lungs as his tip brushed against your cervix and provided a pleasurable sting. baji felt your walls clench around him at his words.

“you dirty little whore… you like being degraded this much, hah?” you didn’t reply as drool seeped down your chin and tears of immeasurable pleasure pricked the corners of your eyes. “i’m fucking talking to you,” he said rather angrily, gripping your throat.

“s-sorry, ‘m gunna cum!” you said loudly, moaning into his sloppy kiss and looking into his eyes as he pulled away and squeezed your throat, cutting off your oxygen almost completely. “yeah? you’re gonna cum soon? gonna cum all over my big cock, right?” he replied with a question, and your vision began to blur.

the biggest orgasm of your life was now pooling in your stomach, and baji knew it too. a smug smirk crept its way onto his face as he cupped your breast and squeezed it gently with his free hand, the other one still lying on your throat. “y-yes… gon’ cum all o-over yer’ f-fat… agh.. cock.”

relaying back to baji that his cock was, in fact, huge was all it took for him to nibble at your shoulder and bring a thumb to your clit before rubbing sloppy circles over it. the coil then snapped, and your orgasm hit you like a crashing wave. you thrashed around underneath him, a pleasurable cry filling the room as your legs shook and he gripped your thighs, watching as your cunt tightened and gushed around him.

“that’s my girl… creaming around me. open wide.” he instructed, and you shivered at the nickname before parting your lips and opening your mouth. he pumped his length dry of all his salty cum that was now dripping down your chin, breasts, lips, and was on your tongue. “swallow.”

you then collapsed after doing as he said as he got up, collecting a warm wash cloth and a glass of water for you. he gently wiped you clean, planting small kisses across your body, all the way from your calves to your forehead. you had to admit, baji’s aftercare was good as hell. he then used a soothing lotion to rub circles on your back, legs, and neck, before handing you the glass of water and collapsing next to you.

your legs tangled together within the soft sheets and warm blankets, and your head was now on his chest as he tangled his fingers in your hair, running them through your locks. you looked up at him and planted two kisses on his jaw as he looked down at you in awe.

“you were so good for me.” he said, and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you in even closer. the feeling of your warm, naked bodies resting against each other was enough to warm his entire heart, and the smile that you gave him as he kissed your forehead was enough to make his heart flutter.

“did you wanna tell me what happened tonight? you know… why you came back all scratched up and sad?” you asked, and he hesitated to reply before grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him. his back now rested against the headboard, and he pulled you closer so that your foreheads were now touching.

“i wish…” he hesitated again, and you cupped his cheek in attempt to reassure him everything would be ok. “i wish we could spend more time together, so we could cuddle and go out that’s all.” your heart picked up the pace as your eyes widened and a smile spread across your lips.

“aah… you’re so adorable, kei.” you ruffled his hair and planted a kiss on his lips, his hands still gripping your bare hips. “i wish we could too… but i understand you’re busy.” his stomach dropped at your words, did you really think you weren’t more important to him than his ‘job?’

he took a hand and gently ran it up the side of your body, all the way to your cheek, staring into your eyes as if he was deep in thought. “you know you’re the most important thing to me, right?” you nodded in response, his heart aching at the realization that there was nothing he could do to improve the amount of time he actually got to see you.

“let’s just make the most out of the time we do have together.”

[tobiosmilktea]

hello! can you write a scenario for atsumu? something like idiots to lovers. like they're best friends or sth like that and they end up accidentally confessing each other gshksfsghgs it's up to you actually, i'd lobe to read anything you write ♡♡ i understand if you won't do it btw but thanks anyways!!

cherry cola — miya atsumu

1.8k words | genre/s: fluff, uni!au | warning/s: — | pairing: atsumu x gn!reader

↪︎ in which you find your best friend, atsumu, passed out on your balcony after a party the night before. now you’re giving him a wake up call with a cherry cola and a confession

a/n: definitely not my best writing, so sorry if this ended up not being what you expected, because this went totally different from what i first had in mind lmao

atsumu’s head was pounding. like a hammer whacking right on his forehead over and over again. he groans, muttering something incomprehensible as his neck and back ached. he wasn’t exactly dreaming, yet he knew very well that he was awake in some form of way. like a limbo? he didn’t know—more like he didn’t bother to find out as he shifted uncomfortably, his head pounding harder and harder the more he stirred in his sleep.

the hell was he sleeping on anyway? concrete?

atsumu didn’t remember your bed being this hard the last time he stayed at your house. wait. why could he hear birds chirping right next to his ear and why was he at your house again?

“atsumu!” a voice shouts at him as he felt a soft throw pillow pelt at his face.

“what the hell?” the setter groans under his breath, yanking him out of his lingering slumber as he pushes himself into a sitting position.

his eyes were open now at least, albeit he struggled trying to keep them open. he peeked through his eyelids to see your figure hovering over him with that same fatigue draining you. not to mention the cool morning breeze suddenly pulling him into his senses that he was in fact outside on your balcony passed out.

you make your way over to him, tugging his arm to get up. “hurry and get your ass out of here before the ra sees you, idiot.”

atsumu’s expression contorts into confusion as he rests himself against the railing, right hand holding his temple as his headache turned into a migraine. “the hell happened last night?”

“what do you mean what happened?” you scoff, placing yourself next to him. “how much could you have drank to not even remember we had a party last night?”

a party? yeah, that does ring a bell. atsumu thought, sighing out the last lingering taste of beer out of his mouth.

it was then the memories from last night dawned on him like a sudden downpour. being the idiots you and atsumu were, you two decided to throw some mindless party just because you two were bored in your literature class one day.

the night was still blurry as his head, all tangled up in jungle vines and foggy from the alcohol. he recalled it starting off with a bang, as atsumu worded it himself an hour before the party started. you two had spent a good amount of money on alcohol and evaded a noise complaint by giving out free liquor bottles to keep their mouths shut. the night progressed like normal before atsumu knocked the fuck out, yet he couldn’t shake off the fact that you sat uncomfortably next to him with a look on your face as if you had just committed a crime.

it was the look you usually had when you and atsumu had done some completely and utterly stupid last night—it was just a matter of what.

“do you remember anything,” you paused, shrugging your shoulders as you handed him a drink in one hand and an ibuprofen in the other. “i dunno, that happened last night during the party? like anything strange?”

a huff left atsumu’s lips, trying the conjure up the energy to even speak. “no?” he answered all confused before looking down at the beverage that was radiating coldness throughout his palm. “what’s this?”

“a cherry cola and pain medicine so you can get out of here already,” you muttered. “and are you sure you don’t remember what happened?”

the setter didn’t respond as he cracked the can open and chugged half of it’s contents down. it seared in his throat slightly as the sugar from the drink had forced energy into his body, downing the medicine along with it. “why the cherry cola?”

“answer my question first.”

“i already told you that i don’t remember, (y/n).” groaned atsumu as he took another swig of cherry cola as if it were alcohol. he then leaned in close to your face, watching as you pull back slightly with your eyes wide like saucers.

strange, atsumu thought, but if only he could hear your raging heart beat within your chest and see the faint pink hues upon your cheeks.

“now answer my question,” your best friend chimed in as he mused at your expression.

pursing your lips, you quickly thought of a lie. “nothing. i’m just bribing you with your favorite drink to hurry up and leave.” you attempted to push him up on his feet again, but it succeeded with no prevail as he threw you smirk.

“why do you want me to leave so you badly, huh?” he leaned in again, provocation lacing his words like ant ridden saccharine. even when he was hung over, atsumu was still as playful and cocky as ever.

he was much closer to you, more than both of you were used to. despite being best friends and being by each other’s sides 24/7, there was still a bubble of personal space between the two of you that has always been respected, and yet, you didn’t fight him off nor push him away and it certainly didn’t seem like atsumu was going to do anything about it either. 

“you don’t remember what i said last night?” your voice emitted much softer than anticipated. perhaps it was from the close proximity between the two of you that you didn’t need to be loud in order to be heard, or maybe it was the fact your faces were just inches away from each other.

“we talked a lot last night, though.”

you shook your head, “no, it was a few minutes before you passed out. we were alone and we were drunk in the bathroom and—”

atsumu’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, racking his brain to remember the scene but all he could recall was the two of you talking on the bathroom floor after he just threw up. he probably just said something snarky to you and hoped it wasn’t a big deal.

“did i say something strange to you or something?” he asked as he was still a bit confused.

you scoff, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes. how could he just magically forget what he said last night and act like it’s not a big deal? if it was you that didn’t remember something you said, you would be panicking right now. “yes,” you deadpan.

an amuse chuckle left the setter’s lips, “then what do you want me to do about it?” atsumu’s conscience mentally slapped him over and over again, yelling, what the hell do you think you’re doing? as the words fell between his lips before he could stop himself. since the moment you two became close there were always unspoken boundaries placed between the two of you and yet he was screwing it all up. the signal in his mind didn’t release itself until the moment he felt his eyes fall upon your chamomile lips. and to atsumu’s peachy ones, did you even dare to think of the impossible, of the serenity that filled you two under your blushing cheeks.

even if he was just playfully and mindlessly flirting with you, it wasn’t like you reacted to it much. before, you would most likely just shrug it off as a joke or roll your eyes at him. and yet, now you’re cheeks tint red and you get all flustered just by the sight of him.

“nothing,” you mutter as you finally pull yourself away from him and up on your toes. “just hurry up and get back to your dorm—”

your wrist was suddenly snatched, forcing you to look back down at atsumu. “are you okay?”

“yeah, don’t worry about it.” you dismissed, but he still refused to let go of you.

atsumu was now up on his feet despite struggling to gain balance for a quick second before following you back inside. “why are you acting like this?” he questioned, genuinely curious considering the fact that nothings lining up for him, but that’s probably because there’s still alcohol in his system.

“i told you already,” you repeated, the anger suddenly rising in the tone of your voice and you yanked the door open. “it’s nothing, just forget about it.”

“forget what, (y/n)!?” he exclaimed all of the sudden, his voice echoing own the corridors as the frustration suddenly building up within him at such an early morning. this wasn’t good for anyone, not for you or atsumu, and not even your neighbors who were probably still sleeping.

“because you told me you had feelings for me last night, idiot!” you quickly shut your mouth up the moment the words left you.

atsumu’s expression hardened as his breath hitched in his throat, hesitating to even answer as the words could barely leave his tongue.

you weren’t supposed to know about that.

the thought was drowning in the back of your heads, only for you to swallow any unnecessary feelings back into the dark depths of your gut as you turned away. atsumu cleared his throat and mirrored your movements, creating a space between the two of you once more as if whatever just happened didn’t occur. perhaps the setter had a problem with keeping things to himself while he’s drunk, but surely you didn’t even have the ability to resist the urge you swore you would never succumb to.

because isn’t falling fun?

atsumu’s eyes flickered back and forth from the ground before him and you who seemed to be too deep within your psyche to notice as you refused to even look at him. he captured his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled himself together to answer. “i’m sorry,” he apologized, “i didn’t want my feelings to ruin our friendship.”

you shook your head, scratching the nape of your neck as your gaze finally decided to meet with his. “it’s not ruined, atsumu. we’re just being idiots right now.”

“when are we not?” he chuckles softly, trying to lighten up the mood that suddenly turned awkward. “i just hope you didn’t reject me while i was drunk.”

“i would never!” you scoff, offense written all over your face as you felt relief coursing through your body knowing that everything seemed close to normal again. “i mean how could i reject someone that looks absolutely adorable while their drunk?”

a playful look melted upon atsumu’s expression as he smirks, “you think i’m adorable?”

“a hundred percent. it’s just too bad i couldn’t kiss you since you threw up right after you confessed. it was disgusting.”

atsumu rolled his eyes, “don’t lie, you know damn well that was the best confession you have every received.”

and it was. purely from the fact that was from your best friend, miya atsumu, who you often called idiot. but if anything, he was your idiot and you wouldn’t change it for anything.

[okaywitheverything]

Can I request a Kakashi x reader where Kakashi and the reader have a unspoken thing between them, like they both know how they feel about each other even through when going through different relationships but it’s just not something they’ve acted on because of ✨ninja life✨ and ✨trauma✨then one of the readers relationships starts moving too fast so kakashi finally confesses. I love your writing btw sorry I went off on a ramble it’s like 4am and I’ve had a lot of energy drinks

A/N: Thank you so much honey! I had a kakashi kick so i decided to write this, Hope you enjoy! Please show it love and I’ll be more than willing to write a second part!

 “I had a fun time too.” You lied straight through your teeth, with a smile on your face to make your statement look more convincing.

You had just returned from your sixth date with Genma, and you were the most cruel human possible for leading him on like this. Given, he was a player back in the academy and broke many hearts but he had now redeemed himself and parted with the playboy ways. Your intuition told you he was genuinely falling for you but you couldn’t reciprocate, constantly giving yourself the excuse of just one more date.

But how to give your heart to him when it already belonged to another?

He pecked your lips lightly and gazed into your eyes, then stepped back and continued, “So I was wondering if you would come back to my place for dinner next Friday?

He looked like a golden retriever yearning for its favourite toy, you didn’t know how to say no to him.

Of course, you weren’t dumb. You knew what he was hinting at. The next level of your relationship was physical intimacy. You were sure this was the longest Genma might have dated someone without indulging in uhh, lovemaking.

You knew he was trying to be patient with you, because you had never gone that far with any of

your previous relationships, third base was foreign territory to you. You knew this was a well known fact among your colleagues but you were over the initial embarrassment now.

But the question was,

Were you ready for that?

He was one of the most sought after bachelors in Konoha, alongside Izumo, Kotetsu, Kakashi-

Kakashi of course.

Kakashi was coolness personified and you were not even kidding. Almost every one wanted to either be him or be with him. Both applied to all possible genders. Even as a kid, he was a once in a millennium prodigy, the pride of ANBU during his youth, famous in every Ninja village across the world. He was a celebrity for goodness sake! He had his own horde of fangirls and fanboys alike. Kakashi had single digit failed missions in an entire record of few hundreds at least. It was almost an insult to give that skilled shinobi a mission below A rank. You both started alongside ay the academy and you were nowhere near his match. Both as an opponent and a partner. That too in both senses, as a team as well as a couple.

You were sure you were one of the many girls pining after him. Sometimes, you gave yourself false hope that even though you weren’t in the same circle at academy, he might have noticed you, crushed on you, felt the same adoration for you.

But who were you kidding? With a exquisite range of beauties lining up at his doorstep to create his progeny, where would you even stand?

“(Y/N) babe? You alright?” Genma asked snapping you out of your thoughts and you almost forgot he was standing in front of you, actually paying you some of his wanted attention and your younger self might have almost felt giddy about it, but you felt nothing but horrible. Horrible because you couldn’t return the enthusiasm and love Genma was offering to you with a pure heart. Horrible because you couldn’t find it in yourself to be brave enough and confess to someone you wanted to be with so much. Horrible because you knew, somewhere deep inside, that your favourite fantasies of love would never come true. But Genma didn’t deserve this either, he didn’t deserve to be treated this way, and the sooner you told him that, the more heartbreak you would be saving both of you from.

“Genma I have mission on Thursday, which might extend up to weeks. I’m sorry-” That was the truth. It might buy you some time as well to figure out what to say to him.

“Hey, it’s okay, not your fault doll. We’ll reschedule after maybe? That sound good?” He gave you a cheeky smile that you loved. Before any of this, you had been friends and he was a gem of a friend. Loyal, true and charismatic. You nodded a genuine smile up at him and suddenly hugged him, he was a good friend after all and you knew nothing would come in the way of that ever.

“Thank you.” You murmured in his chest and he kissed your forehead.

“Anytime.” He replied and left with a smile.

He knew you needed a friend at the moment and that was all he was being then, a good friend.

It was two nights before your mission when Genma suddenly asked you to meet him at the bar. ‘A casual hangout’ he said. But you knew that was obviously not the case.

You had dressed in a simple attire, a top and jeans, the basic only. You had thought it over the previous nights and finally reached the conclusion, you were going to tell Genma the truth. The exact conversation hadn’t played out in your head but you knew what lines to go along.

You would even tell everyone he dumped you and it would be okay if he never wanted to speak to you again cause you didn’t deserve even his friendship for being so ruthless and downright nasty.

But how would you survive without one of your true companions?

Well that was certainly your problem now, not his. Genma was immaculately kind and genuine and you were a cold bitch.

“This is clearly not working (Y/N).”

Well that wasn’t what you were expecting. You knew what he was getting at but juts so you were on the same page you dumbly asked, “What?”

He sighed and looked in your eyes, giving you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s getting kinda obvious. You do know I can read you quite well and I see there’s something you’re trying to hide, something that so clearly shows. I could tell you were moving on, well trying to at least. You gave your heart to him when we were just kids, while I gave mine to you. Funny how fate works?”

Neither of you laughed.

“But I guess this is some sort of karma. And it’s going to hurt me for a bit of time. But I’ll be okay. I can’t see you like anymore though. I really hope he appreciates all the love you have for him. And comes around soon. But stay in my life nevertheless.”

You didn’t realise when you started crying, but your face had heated up and you streams of tears tried to cool it down.

With a shaking sob, you replied, “I don’t deserve you Genma. But I Know you’ll find  another and be just fine. For your sake, I really hope you do. And Thank you.” You wrapped your arms around him while tears landed on both your shoulders.

It must have been so incredibly hard for him to do this yet he never failed to amaze you. You were proud to be a part of his life. You tilted back and looked in his glazed eyes, stood on your toes and pressed your lips to his, one last pasting kiss. There was so much emotion in it, from both sides that you knew you’d never forget this moment ever.

Genma really knew like the back of his hand, you never even said his name but both knew who you were talking about.

Kakashi always sat at the back of the bar, where he could drink his beer without the prying eyes of others trying to see his face. He rarely drank, lest he was with his friends but his heart was aching right now. He had messed up his mission yesterday because he couldn’t think straight after he saw (Y/N) looking as gorgeous as ever With her sleek (f/c) dress and cherry red lips. He might have drooled, he did actually, but gained his senses when he saw Genma accompanying her. He quickly hid, masking his chakra and looked at the happy couple. It was his fault, if anything for never acting on his feelings.

What good are your worldwide achievements if you don’t have a family to share them with?

Both his parents were taken away from him at a very young age and he had no relatives. Studying too hard, over exerting himself and being bratty became his coping mechanisms. Since his early childhood, Kakashi was very independent and self-confident, at times even appearing arrogant and condescending. Despite that, Kakashi was very perceptive and intuitive, quickly realising the situation for what it was. After his father's death, Kakashi became more stern, aloof and cold toward others, dating was never something he considered important, it didn’t even cross his mind. The only people he ever let into his life were a handful of classmates like Gai, Asuma, maybe even Kurenai to some extent but romance was out of his story, At least he thought it was.

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low Only hate the road when you're missing home Only know you love her when you let her go And you let her go

He first realised his love at some festival being celebrated in Konoha, when his bored eyes saw you all dressed up, beside your group of friends. You were laughing so wholeheartedly that even tears pooled there. He was thankful for whatever had you wheezing so hard. Sure, he always thought you were attractive, he knew how to appreciate beauty, but for some reason that laugh created a domestic picture in his head and he knew wouldn’t mind listening to it again.

That night he thought about you, like really thought about you. Reminiscing about every encounter you both had ever had, and he fell harder for you the same night. He remembered how you approached him after his father’s passing, the only person whose eyes held true sadness apart from his real friends’ circle.

He knew a lot of his admirers left him gifts at his house, expensive chocolates, cards, bouquets but he knew their intentions were never genuine. But he also remembered that among the lot, were homemade cookies and chocolates. They never had a name but he connected the dots when he found out your distant aunt had some sort of bakery. It was conformed when he saw you travelling through Konoha with several baskets in your hands, Your teen self trying to figure the addresses. He might or not have followed you. Some were your aunt’s deliveries while you brought some of them to your friends’ house and one last basket which you left at his doorstep.

You never approached him after to take credit, or with some other purpose. You didn’t even contact him in academy the next day.

He found himself wishing way too often that you did.

As much of a genius as Kakashi was, it took him way too much time, more than he’d like to admit, several years exactly, to realise the extent of his feelings. It happened when you started to date someone. It never crossed his mind why you never dated before but he wished it could go back to that. He caught you with your date kissing in a park and he swore he heard his heart break. Like really, really break. Then the intellectual finally figured out his Love.

And he knew he screwed up.

 You see her when you close your eyes Maybe one day you'll understand why Everything you touch surely dies.

 After that realization, you plagued his thoughts. He thought he would confess if your relationship ended but he was a coward. And he hated himself for it. He knew how shit his reason of losing you if he confessed was, but it was effective. The amount of close people he had lost just amplified his fear. He couldn’t afford to lose you, even if it pained his heart to admire you just from afar.

He was an exceptional ninja and his alert senses identifies your chakra as soon as you entered. Even in casual clothes, you were the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on. His gaze followed your short walk to the bar countertop where he found Genma and his mood turned sour. He was once again reminded of all he couldn’t have.

He observed the couple from a few feet behind his crush, and he saw you both hug suddenly. His heart broke all over again when he saw a tear roll down Genma’s cheek and you pulling Genma in a hot, steamy kiss. Though you both weren’t aware, you made quite a scene in the bar and everyone was gazing right at you both. Kakashi quickly paid for his tab and ran out, breathing heavily.

What if Genma proposed? That was a bizarre thought because he knew you’ve been dating for just over a month but Kakashi didn’t know how relationships progressed. That night found him lying awake in his bed and he came to a conclusion.

That he’d be damned if he let you get away without even trying.

A/N: Thanks for making it till the end. I hoped you liked it. Requests are open and if you don’t have any prompt, just comment which character you’d like to see more of and I’ll consider requests of that character. Please reblog and like. I’ll love you if you do.

Until next time.

[nukyster-blog]

Changing Course chapter 21) Forty minus one

Ivar awoke by the first sunlight of dawn. The white rays were watery and cold, like the temperature in the dungeon. Frost had slowly allowed itself to enter the castle’s walls and inched inside, ridding Ivar’s prison cell of the last bits of warmth.  

Ivar did not recall if he slept or lost consciousness due to the cold. He guessed the latter, as the bitter cold had chilled his fingers into useless numbness and crept further down into his body. It spread painfully from his toes into his feet robbing his skin of all color.  

“Maybe”, he thought, “this is not the worst day to die��; he honestly didn’t believe he’d survive the winter.

The cold of night had robbed him of strength, but not of spirit. He would not fight his death but he’d do everything in his power to keep his jaws locked and mouth shut. He’d undergo whatever punishment those Christians thought proper for his crime and die with dignity.

A gust of frigid wind wrapped around him like a shawl woven by ice itself. His teeth chattered as he tried to warm his body by rocking back and forth.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He began to lose his sense of time. Back and forth, back and forth. Hunger gnawed a hole in his stomach. Back and forth, back and forth.  

The dead rat slowly but steadily became a reasonable meal. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Ivar?”  

Ivar glanced up to the barred window. It was Piglet; in order for her to peek into Ivar’s prison cell she had to lay her head on the ground.  

“Piglet?” Ivar crawled underneath the window and stared up, squinting his eyes. The young woman above reached back for a moment and managed to shove her arm through the bars.  

A polished, red apple dropped into Ivar’s lap.

“Ivar…” her voice was brittle and soft; she reached further down into the cell as a desperate attempt for a last connection.  

It was impossible. Even if Ivar had been able to stand, the walls were too high.  

“I guess this is it then Piglet, we had a good run,” Ivar spoke toneless, watching her hand reach and wave, “we were a proper match you and I. It’s a shame you believe in a false God…” and that was where he stopped himself from becoming sentimental. Because both of them were aware they would never see each other again, there was no reason to voice the truth.  

“A shame,” he ended and shut out all of her weeping. For a while, her arm remained reaching and waving, but as Ivar remained silent, Piglet eventually gave up and left.  

He’d never know if she’d spoken any last words of goodbye for him, because he blocked everything out, all while eating her apple. Even the core, because he did not want her to get in trouble and he could use all the strength given.  

.-.-.

Overnight the lessers of the castle had placed a beech wooden pole in the centre near the well. It wouldn't be the only silent witness of Ivar’s punishment. The rest of the bystanders were already buzzing and whispering about what was to come.  

The Giant hadn’t been pleased with Ivar’s forehead statement and had wiped off the Runen R with spit and his sleeve.  

The cobblestones bruised his knees as Ivar was shoved, poked, and kicked in order to get into the centre.  

The three rulers and the fair maiden had taken place nearest the pole, seated on wooden chairs. Their place had the best view for the spectacle, although Lambertus and his wife, Haedwien, did not look pleased with being present. The fair maiden had her hand pressed against her mouth, cheeks pale and on the verge of getting sick.  

And Ludolf, sat sunken on his seat, bored and maybe even a bit embarrassed. For it was due to his “wound” that the slave had to suffer and be an example for the rest. The bystanders were on foot, nudging and pulling to get to the front row.  

For some reason Ivar was pleased to see the Christians fight for the best spot, at least those soulless bastards had some sense of bloodlust. Maybe they were more Viking then they’d like to admit.  

Ivar was forced on his knees, facing the pole. His arms were stretched far above his head and tied to the beech wood. A knife was dragged jaggedly through his humble tunic, tearing the fabric open, baring his back, shoulders and neck completely.  

“Will they Bloodeagle me?” Ivar wondered stunned, as he pressed his cheek against the wood in an attempt to pick up everything that was happening behind him. But his arms were tied too high, leaving his face and most of his upper body pressed against the pole, minimizing his mobility.  

The Giant spoke some biblical nonsense; Ivar concluded from the Giant’s tone. Ivar’s assumption was completely confirmed when he heard the book slam shut.  

The first lash came completely unexpected and Ivar broke his solemn rule—to keep his mouth shut. A pain plagued hiss managed to escape through his teeth. The second lash managed to hit the exact same position as the first and cut through Ivar’s skin. A tortuously slow pattern emerged, one of two lashes and then a moment of ease. Ivar later learned that moment of pause wasn’t for him, no, it was for the Giant, so his arm would not tire.  

The lashes seemed to rip Ivar open to the marrow, like rigged daggers the leather dug deeper and deeper into his skin. Time did not matter anymore; all that remained was the rhythm of the lashes.  

A scream from deep within forced its way from Ivar’s mouth, it was not one of fright, but one formed entirely of anger that unleashed itself like a demon. It took two more lashes to silence him, fists clenching and teeth locking up all of his remaining sound. Now that his anger escaped him, there was only despair.  

Ivar lost count after fifteen, his ears were ringing and he could no longer see clearly. His mind seemed afloat; his body a vacant, aching shell. There was a low indistinct sound, almost animalistic. It took him a moment to realize those where his own hoarse moans.  

The cobblestones wore more and more spatters of Ivar’s blood. It did not take many more lashes for his battered skin to peel loose, falling down at his knees like bloody autumn leaves.  

A deep, raspy caw called down to him. Ivar’s eyes were able to focus enough on the top of the pole to see the black silhouette of a raven, contrasting against the milky white sky.  

“Father—“ Ivar watched the bird as his front teeth scraped over the beech wood.

The raven cawed again, its beady eyes mercilessly taking in the scene beneath it. With wings black as tar, it gracefully landed near Ivar’s knees. Ravens were known for their curiosity, but even they knew their limits. It wasn’t common for birds to come so near such a large crowd of humans. But the raven did not show any hesitation and pecked at the remains of Ivar’s skin. It peeked up again, taking a piece of Ivar before lifting off, heading off into the milky white sky.  

Ivar inhaled a sharp breath as the leather tore at his skin again, but this time he felt elevated.  

“You can beat every inch of my body,” he whispered hoarsely, “but you cannot kill me. Not today, because I am Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and I have my father’s blessings.”  

His eyes rolled back as his body was close to giving in to the immense pain scorching his entire back. The crowd had grown silent; most faces contorted with plagued expressions. The fair maiden had fled the scene. Ludolf’s lips were twisted into a satisfied, lopsided and sadistic smile.  

Pain prevails over every emotion. It conquers lust, hunger, envy, hatred. Pain can divide brothers by blood; it can drive wise men mad.  

To triumph over pain, you need to be extraordinary—near Godly.  

In between the last few lashes, Ivar had an epiphany: he could not die before he’d fulfilled his destiny. And, although he did not know what lay in his future, he wholeheartedly believed the Gods had laid out an exceptional path for him. It became quite clear; he had beat death too many times to simply die by the hands of a Christian commoner.  

Maybe he deserved this punishment, for he’d questioned the Gods too many times and cursed them for turning him from a cripple prince into a slave. His mother had been a Vülva, able to see the past, present and future. But interpreting the will of the Gods was hard, maybe she’d seen his death wrong and had it merely been a rebirth.  

He’d been resurrected from death, by his father, time after time. So for today, Hellheim and Valhalla had to wait for his arrival, for he had his destiny to fulfill.  

.-.-.

In the bible Moses’ Law referred to flagellation; the law itself meant forty lashes less one; thirty-nine lashes. The term was meant as a biblical one, in that 40 lashes were determined enough to kill a man, according to the Old Testament and thus 39 lashes was the most you give a man without declaring a penalty of death.  

Today the crippled slave of de Haar survived forty.  

.-.-.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I’ve been so impatient to write this chapter. At the start, I only had a few guidelines: hurt, massive hurt and excruciating hurt. But then I figured I had to keep Ivar’s spirit intact in order for him to survive. So yes, once again Ragnar in the form of a Raven reappeared. As I’ve mentioned before, you can see this every way you like, spiritual, emotional. Is it just a young man in desperate need of comfort, or is there truly a link between Midgard and Valhalla? Pick whatever you please. And in case you wonder, I’ve made up Ivar’s entire path towards his destiny like the moment I started writing this story. In my head, it’s all written out, wrapped into a trilogy. Now just the time to drabble it all out. The 40 minus 1 is a true thing btw, I’ve done some (too much) research, it’s believed that Jesus received 39 whippings and since I’ve thrown Christianity into the mix I figured I might as well add some information as well.

So that was it for today, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, or sat there cringing in your chair, either way I’ve done my job well.

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The kickass beta: @Sarahh-Jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

[deobitchxx]

Hi! Can I request for you to write a hyunjae one - I went out at 12am to buy snacks and he was worried. (Im a noona btw) Thanks so much!

[ 17:26 // 02.09.2020 // R.FLUFF ] “I missed you, a lot.” Hovering his arms around your waist, he pulled you closer to his body and leaned his chin on your shoulder. A small giggle found its way to escape from your lips, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and tightened the hug. “I missed you even more.” Hyunjae shook his head as a no, “It’s impossible because I missed you more than you did.” “Let’s not start this, alright?” The latter gave you a small nod and responded with a hum, before both of you stayed like that for a while. You wanted it to be longer but something kicked in, as you winced in pain, making the younger one furrowed his eyebrows and immediately let you off from the embrace, holding your shoulders and facing you with a worried expression dominated his face. “Are you okay?” Hyunjae asked in the softest tone as you tried to reassure him with a fixed expression. “I’m sure I’ll be okay, I just got a stomach ache thingy.” 

You looked up to face the taller one, as you smiled and leaned to place a quick kiss on his lips. “I’m fine, I’m sure this will get off sooner.” You rubbed your tummy inside your shirt but the latter wasn’t buying your words. The grips on your shoulder tightened, earning a raised eyebrow from you. “Wait.. Hold on.” Hyunjae took out his phone from his pocket, immediately clicking to an application. He didn’t encourage himself to put his phone on lock whenever you’re around to gain more trust from you, but he sure has to lock them when he’s on his idol mode again. Sigh, dating an idol sure is an exhausting and challenging thing. However, you didn’t mind the fact that he’s an idol-- It was his dream at all since he was a kid. You stood next to him, tip-toeing to have the same eye-level with the latter in order to have a peak over his phone. There, you saw him clicking into an application that happened to be a must for every female. It was an application where you can keep on track with your period.

“Why do you have that?” You asked the latter, not having any single clue why he has such things in his phone. What if his fans managed to steal or hack into his phone? It’ll stir another controversy and the least you wanna witness is seeing him apologising for something he shouldn’t have to. “I only am able to see you once or twice in a month, I have to keep in track with your periods so I can be mentally prepared with your commands and mood swings.” He confessed, clicking on the calendar icon before releasing a sigh, “It’s almost time, I’m sure it’s the period pain you’re facing.” He shoved his phone into the pocket, turning his whole body to face you with all of his attention. “Do you need anything? Sweets? Chocolates? Pizzas?” A totally pleasing expression took over your whole face, “I’m alright, my love.” Your hands rested on his both cheeks before pulling him down to match his eyes with yours. “Just be next to me, and I’ll be alright. Unless you wanna see me throwing a tantrum.” Hyunjae tittered, covering your small hands that were on his cheeks with his huge hands, clasping your hands together and left a kiss on them while staring into your eyes, “I love you.”

It was almost 12am, there darkness and cold air surrounding you should’ve brought you to your dreamland-- Instead, you were gazing into empty spaces while your mind playing a medley of all the snacks you wanted to have at the moment. You turned to your side, the taller man already went to his dreamland. You didn’t remember when was the last time you stayed up late with Hyunjae, as he has always been sleeping around 8pm or 9pm whenever he’s staying at your place. You can’t blame him though, you saw how hardworking he was on the television, and even behind the scenes. The least you could do is lay next to him and accompany him to sleep. However, tonight is an exception. Your stomach already called you multiple times, asking you to feed them with various snacks. Trying not to make a sound, you put the huge arm that was wrapped around your waist away, leaving the room in the quietest and quickest way after grabbing your wallet and jacket. 

The smile on your face can’t spread any further, as you just bought a plastic full of different snacks, chocolates and even ice creams from the convenience store. It was located 5 blocks away from your apartment. You knew you shouldn’t sneak away just to buy them in this late night where possible crimes could happen anytime, but you didn’t have the intention to wake the tired Hyunjae up. You didn’t want to burden him more. You wanted to be independent as you’ve always been-- or probably ‘have been’ before you met Hyunjae. It was not like you kept depending on him, but he has been taking care of you so much that you have no choice but to rely on him. He was younger than you physically, he didn’t want to look like a little kid in-front of you. He wanted to be the man that you needed the most in your life. The man that you can depend on for the rest of your life. As you hummed into your favourite song, you decided to take a short break outside of the store and sat on the empty chair. It was midnight, but you still can see some cars or people passing by the street. 

“Oh shit, I forgot to bring my phone.” You cursed under your breath, placing the plastic on the table before taking out an ice cream. Slicing off the cover, you began to lick your ice cream underneath the street light. You looked around the surrounding as you witnessed a lot of scenes that you didn’t know you could see in such hours. There was a drunk old man who tried to walk straight, but still got the urge to drink another bottle that he was holding in his right hand. There was also a group of rebellious teenagers that probably just finished their karaoke session and there was even a couple trying to make out in between the stores. “Huh, must be so nice to be young.” You released a deep sigh and finished your ice cream after a few minutes. Grabbing the plastic again, you decided to go back to the apartment. As soon as your feet landed on the floor, a familiar figure appeared in-front of you. “Why are y-” “What are you doing!” You were taken back with his sudden stern voice. You examined him from up to down, seeing Hyunjae only in his pajamas and slippers, he didn’t even try to cover himself up with a mask nor cap. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re coming here?” He asked after seeing the plastic that you were holding and the store behind you. 

“I didn’t want to wake you up.. You seem tired. It would be a selfish side of mine if I asked you to buy me these.” Before you could say any other words, he cut you off as he pulled you into the tightest hug ever. “Please. Don’t go out during midnights alone. It’s dangerous. Why didn’t you bring your phone along? I thought something happened to you.” The uneven breath from him became more obvious when you got closer to his chest. “If something ever happened to you, I’ll never forgive myself for failing to protect you.” He added, as you can feel the arms around your body tightened too. Both of you stayed like that for a while before you broke the embrace, pulling him slightly, “Why didn’t you wear your mask and cap? You might get exposed to the paparazzis.” You took off your jacket, trying to cover him up with it but he stopped you by holding your arms, “I don’t care if I get exposed, as long as you’re fine in my eyes.” You can’t help but to leave a chuckle that sounded like a schoolgirl, leading him to chuckle along. “Promise to me that you won’t do this again in the future.” You nodded and locked your pinky finger with his, “I won’t, and I’m sorry for making you worried.” 

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

Dance Freely, Love (Joe Toye x Reader)

a/n- another one of my random ideas, thanks @radiantcade​ for motivating me to do this, what would i do without you??

once again, im procrastinating on the long fanfic by writing shorter ones. oops

Description- You wake up to see a note that your long-time boyfriend has left for you on a drawer. After reading it, it’s contents leave you heartbroken. Time passes by and word gets by of your boyfriend in the hospital. You decide to visit him. Tears and fufilled promises ensue.

Words- 4.9k (i was intending for it to be short but... i got carried away??)

Warnings- angst, angst, angst, but there’s fluff tho 

Angst with happy ending, love those-

btw listen to these songs while reading this:

The End of the Word- https://youtu.be/xHa6a3FtPJg

It’s Been a Long, Long Time- https://youtu.be/iP0tHmoc1rs

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

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

The sun beams peek through the gap of your white curtains, shielding your (E/C) from their brightness. That was what you found strange. 

Usually Joe would wake up earlier than you and he’d open the curtains right after he woke up and got up from your comfy bed. So when you’d open your eyes, the light would just be as gleaming and bright as Joe’s smile. 

Maybe finally he listened to you and decided to give your eyes a rest. You groggily stretched your body, the blankets falling off your shoulders dropping slowly towards your lap. 

Stiff arms raise up and a content groan leaves your lips as you stretch them out. Those tired arms then reach up to rub at your eyes and you feel a yawn creeping by.

You then make your way off the bed, slightly disappointed by the loss of warmth those covers provided you with. After your eyesight was clear, you hobbled your way around the room while putting on your slippers.

You walked up to a small table with a record player, something you and Joe were lucky to have. You pulled out a disc and set the record player up. Soon enough, you and Joe’s favorite music to slow dance to plays. 

It soothed your muscles and you could almost fall asleep again if you tried hard enough. You bopped your head up and down and hummed softly to the melody. There was a slight bounce in your step as the song kept playing and a tiny grin was on your face.

After a few moments of swaying along to the music you noticed the absence of the handsome, dark-haired man you called your boyfriend.

“Joe…”

Your tired, breathy voice rang throughout your shared bedroom, but no voice rang back.

You assumed it might’ve been one of those rare days where Joe went the extra mile to make breakfast. 

But once again, there was no waft of food or smoke reaching your nose.

“...Joe…?” 

The question was asked louder, but no response. The tweeting of the birds felt deafening in the quiet house, and the soothing voice of your lover wasn’t heard at all. You still stood at the foot of your bed, slightly dazed and confused as to where Joe was.

You opened the door to your bedroom and quickly made your way throughout the house to look for him. You fail to see the crisp, white note laying quietly on your dresser and waiting to be read. 

The faint thumping your footsteps echoed throughout the house, and he was nowhere to be found. 

You even went as far to go to the attic(which you absolutely hated going into ever since Joe said that it was haunted). You rushed through each room, opening the door roughly before slamming it back shut once you saw that he wasn’t there.

You sped along, your speed rivaling that of light’s. You even caught yourself lifting up one of the cushions of the sofa.

When you returned to the room you were a panting mess, and you were sure that you checked every inch of the house at least 7 times while calling out his name and telling him to cut the joke.

Your search was futile and you walked groggily up the wooden stairs so you can lie down on your bed. (S/C) hands gingerly turn the doorknob and you amble your way slowly to the comfy bed. 

You heave a sigh as you plop yourself into the mattress, your head nestled between the pillows and the still-tousled blanket. Your head turns and your eyes land on the piece of paper resting flat against the wooden surface of the dresser.

You were suddenly alert and your body shot up in the blink of an eye. You swear that you hadn’t seen this note before. For someone who apparently checked the house from top-to-bottom, you were sure pretty blind.

You put your legs up on the bed, and you leaned over to reach the mysterious note. You leaned back and scooted up until your back was flush against the fluffy pillows. 

The folded paper was opened to reveal the familiar and neat handwriting of your love. Your eyes lit up in recognition. Your eyes skimmed over the word-filled page before actually deciding to read it the ink.

“Dear (Y/N),

I hope you read this letter with a clear mind and heart, for I am truly sorry for doing this to you. (Y/N), I am so sorry for leaving you like this.

 I planned to tell you the night before, but I couldn’t bring myself to break the news after seeing you so happy last night. I couldn’t do that to myself, and especially you. 

Before you can say that I should have told you, please try to understand that this way is the best way. It’s the best option and I think it would also be the one that hurt you the less.

 (Y/N), please know that I have good intentions and that I really don’t mean to bring you harm in any way, shape, or form.

Your tear-stained face would’ve broken me and I am slightly glad that I would not be there to see your reaction. I couldn’t live with that. 

(Y/N), I promise you only a few things:

1. I will return to you, no matter how injured I am.

2. When I do return, the first thing I will do is to scoop you up into my arms.

3. I will give you the best kisses that you’ve ever dreamed of.

4. I will make the best goddamn dinner that has ever existed.

5. We will dance, and dance to that record we always play until the night slowly fades into day, and I promise you, that I still wouldn’t be stopping.

6. I will always, and forever love you.

(Y/N), please know that this would've happened someday, and that again, this is the best option for both of us. After this war, I SWEAR, that I will do everything I put on that list of promises. 

You have my word and heart, (Y/N). I love you. I love you very much…  Please let me see your face when I return.

Love,

Your ever loving boyfriend, Joe”

Streams of salty tears were unknowingly rushing out of your eyes like mini waterfalls. You only started to feel them when you slowly brought your fingers to your face. 

The wet sensation against your fingertips brought you back to reality, and you only started sobbing louder. You talked to him about it, of course, but you just thought…You just thought that maybe, just maybe, he would’ve given you a head’s up.

Of course you knew he was going to fight the war, but not like this. This would be the last thing you expected. Sobs, whimpers, and whispers of his name fell out of your lips. The trembling never stopping.

You quickly put your lip between your teeth to stop any more sounds from coming out, but the action was futile. Your fists clenched the now flimsy piece of paper, crumpling the edges and almost ripping the sides of the papers off.

The sounds of your tears plopping against the paper didn’t bring you back from your tear-filled stupor. The whimpering didn’t stop and you looked down to your lap to read the paper once again, just to make sure that you weren’t, in fact, dreaming.

Your red and already swollen (E/C) eyes glance down at the paper only to see that your tears have smudged and already washed some of the words. The once legible words were  reduced to only a small puddle of black ink. 

The tears in your eyes stopped for a brief moment before they started streaming down your red cheeks and down your throat. A small, wet stain formed at top of your blouse, the never-ending river of your woe soaking it more and more.

You were still as you could be, only light tremors shook your body as you sniffed and whimpered some more. Your throat ached, your mouth was parched, and your eyes lost tears to cry a long time ago.

The aching of your legs made your whole lower body feel numb and you soon felt how sore your face felt. Your fingers begged to be unfurled, the joints already crying out in mercy, but you couldn’t care less. 

Crescent moon shapes were indented against the soft skin of your palm, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Hiccups now filled the air, but you were still glued to that very same spot you had ages ago. 

Your tired body slowly leaned forward until your forehead and wet cheeks touched the cold sheets of your bed.  Soft whimpers were muffled and your hand clutched and pulled the once neat and pristine piece of paper towards your chest. 

Wet ink was transferred onto your blouse, and the damp fabric stuck to your feverish skin without a hitch. Everything hurt. Eyes, nose, throat, back, fingers, thighs, toes, and your heart. 

Oh, especially your heart. It felt like it’s been cut, torn, and smashed into oblivion. Like it was whipped and the wounds had salt poured on them. Then it was burned, chewed up, and run over by 4 dozen cars. Then the whole process repeated again and again.

The pain was agonizing, and you would do anything to make it stop for even just a second. That was all you could focus on. You still didn’t get it. 

Nothing made sense to you at the moment and you had the overwhelming urge to destroy everything around you. To rip that damned piece of paper that brought you this pain in the first place. 

As anger and many more emotions coursed through you, you stopped to look at the piece of paper for the tenth time this hour. Your hardened glare turned into a loving look after your (E/C) eyes looked at the words ‘I love you’.

Tears threatened to burst through your sensitive eyes but your ability to produce tears ran out forever ago. So instead, you raised your fist to pound it against the mattress. 

You tried to let out a scream but no sound came out. The dull sound consumed your head and you stopped shortly. You felt so vulnerable. So utterly helpless without him.

You never even got to say goodbye. To kiss him lovingly, to hug him with all your strength, and to say infinite declarations of love. If you'd known that last night was the final night that you would see him, you would’ve never have let him go and never stopped saying your adoration in his ear.

If you missed him this much already, how were you to act without him for years? How were you to react if he never came back? You forcefully diverted yourself from thinking that, you would be better if you don’t think of that.

Just when you thought you can now fully function, scenes of Joe bleeding out from a shot or shrapnel wound prevented you from doing so. Your parted lips stretched to a frown and you gripped your head between your hands, your fingers digging themselves deep into your scalp.

What have you done to deserve this? Why was this happening to you?

Why you? 

Why Joe?

Painful questions mixed with past memories of happy times between you and Joe swirled around in your head. You thought that focusing on the joyful memories you had together but that made things worse, for they reminded you of the things you will surely miss.

Exhaustion and fatigue glide over you and you start to realize the ache of every muscle in your body. For now, all you desired was to close you red and swollen (E/C) and to float away to dreamland.

You didn’t care if it was only the afternoon, the day’s previous events left you spent and wanting to rest.You prayed that you didn’t have any dreams of him, your fragile heart couldn’t take anymore. It had enough in just a few hours.

Your sore and weak body raised itself up from it’s bent position, some of your backbones cracking at the action. You released a shaky sigh as your back hit the mattress, your throbbing head feeling only just a tiny bit relaxed as it hit the cloud-like pillows. 

The lingering scent of his shampoo and soap on the pillow covers and blankets hugged you tightly, almost suffocating you. It was overwhelming, but you decided to relish one of the few things he actually left behind.

The bedroom blurred around you, black spots appearing in your vision as your eyelids drooped down.You curled up into a fetal position, face almost buried in the pillows. Your nose was clogged and almost silent sniffles were all you could offer.

The faint sound of the record player lulling you to sleep by the second as you let it play its tune.

You clutched the letter in your hand towards your chest like earlier. You were holding on to it like your life depended on it(your life didn’t but your heart sure did).

Before blacking out you wished that maybe this dream would provide temporary comfort, that maybe you’d forget about Joe and his leave. Perhaps, you might get it all of your head in just one sleep. But you knew it didn’t work like that.

Nothing did.

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

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

You really didn’t know how you continued to live your life without Joe by your side. How you missed his jokes, gentle touch, tender kisses, and bone-crushing yet loving hugs throughout the day.

Sometimes you could still hear his voice calling out so sweetly to you. The way your name rolled so right on his tongue. It really drove you wild. On other days, you would open your mouth to respond to him but the reality falls down on you like a pile of bricks. You would hurriedly shut your mouth and a deep frown etches itself on your face.

It’s been years since he left for the army without a word. The only thing he left for you was that letter. The now crumpled piece of paper containing Joe’s words was placed on top of the dresser, where it previously was. 

Even though you couldn’t read the words anymore, you cherished and hated it all at the same time. The day after you cried and sobbed your heart out, you decided to send him letters.

Letters saying how you felt, how life was without him, and letters pleading for him to come back to you. Each letter had bucketfuls of your love and care put into them.

You’d even go as far as to buy the now rare chocolate candies. You saved every penny just to buy a piece. Then you’d carefully wrap them in small squares of parchment paper and taping the ends to make a little make-shift present.

You’d carefully press the paper and tuck it carefully into the envelope, sealing it when you were done.Then your eyes would well up as you held it in your shaking, (S/C) hands. 

Tender kisses were pressed into every surface of the envelope before you’d send it away. You never really got anything back though.  Hours were spent looking outside your window or going out to check your mailbox.

There was nothing, but you never gave up.

So you kept sending him letters, assuring yourself that he’ll reply to at least one of them. You grew tired of waiting, but you were ever so hopeful, thinking that this would be the day he’d respond.

Or maybe the next, or the day after that. Perhaps maybe a week after that one. Wishful thinking never got you anywhere, but it sure helped you in your broken state. 

The clanging sound of the metal mailbox outside your home shutting grew redundant. But you still waited for something. Your cheerful smiles faded by the day and you were again reminded of how he just left you.

It even got to the point where even your neighbors started noticing and taking notice of your melancholy behavior. It has been weeks since you sent out your most recent letter and, once again, no response or word of your boyfriend.

You were completely left in the dark as to how he was doing. At this point, you didn’t even know if he was alive or not. You stopped sending him letters after the 12th or 13th one.  You knew it was a lost cause and you gave up on it.

There would be moments where rage and bitterness bubbled inside you, but that was washed away by feelings of sadness, regret, and guilt. Sometimes you would find yourself crying in the middle of the hallway, but you would have no recollection whatsoever of you tearing up.

The sobbing just found its way to you, no matter what you were doing. You would be fine and the next moment you would clutch your head while seated on the tiled, kitchen floor with your back against the wooden cupboards, the river slowly streaming again.

You thought you could live without him, that you would be better off anyway. You were wrong. Very wrong. How many times have you wailed his name loudly during the night?

How many times have you clutched the ruined letter against your palms and chest? Just how many? Frustration welled within every part of your being and it grew tiring. You hated it.

You hated everything in this situation.

Why couldn’t Joe just tell you ahead of time? Anything would’ve been better than this. You didn’t know how his mind worked when he wrote you that letter, when it said that this was the best way.

It was anything but.

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

The deep pit of your stomach fell instantaneously when the name of your boyfriend fell from your neighbor’s lips. Your mind was blank, still trying to comprehend their words.

Sputters and incomplete sentences left your mouth as you questioned them for more details. You didn't know how you felt after one of your neighbors had told you the news of Joe being in a hospital.

How come they knew before you did?

Your fists clenched at your sides before they gripped the hem of your skirt, the loose fabric soon feeling uncomfortable in your (S/C) hands. It all felt like a fever dream and you just assumed that none of this was even happening. It couldn’t be.

Wide, (E/C) eyes stared into the distance, not really focusing on the words and presence of your neighbor. A loud voice called out of your name and your dazed eyes and head snapped to your neighbor, a worried expression plastered on their face.

Your feet were glued to the ground and you switched between looking at the ground and your neighbor’s face. The sounds of your heavy breathing were all you could hear. You could see the shadow of your neighbor inching closer towards your still body.

“(Y/N)... Are you alright, dear?”

“I- I’m… I’m fine. Just…” A stagnant pause rang throughout the air, and you were brought back by a steady hand resting on your shoulder.

“Surprised?” Your neighbor completed your thought for you, a questioning and worried tone lacing their voice.

“A little more than that.”

A dry chuckle left your lips as a feeble attempt to loosen the tense atmosphere.  Questions like the ones that appeared on the day he left arose, making an unwelcome cameo in your brain.

The feeling of shock rushed through like a bolt of literal lightning. Fire burned your nerves and you were you looked stupid with your mouth gaping so big.

You had no words except a thanks to your neighbor before rushing back to your house, quickly opening the door and locking it before slowly walking over to the nearest seat.

You fell onto the cushion immediately, leaning forward with your head in the clutches of your hands. You were very relieved. You finally got to know how he was doing. You finally got to know that he was actually alive and not another body resting on the open field.

What you were experiencing was indescribable. It was a mysterious amalgamation of intense and soft emotions, all rolled up into one. But Joe’s alive…That was all you were thankful for.

He’s alive and you were going to pay him a visit.

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

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

So that’s where you found yourself…Standing in front of the pale white door that served as a temporary barrier between you and the man you still loved after all of these years. You fumbled with your skirt, bunching up the fabric in your hands and causing them to wrinkle.

A few good minutes were spent in the hallway as you mouthed the words you were going to say to him. Another couple of minutes were spent mentally preparing yourself. 

You rubbed your temples raw and rubbed your forearms at least 20 times in only just a few seconds.Your knuckles gently yet firmly tapped against the wood, the thumping sound of your skin hitting wood was brief and slightly muffled. 

Your breathing stopped and you definitely knew that your breath was caught in your throat. Seconds felt like forever in this situation and you slowly let your raised arm drop to your sides.  Your body was practically tense and stiff, almost resembling the door in front of you.

“Come in…”

As if time stopped itself, you found yourself staying still once again. Your palms flew to your lips to stop you from crying right then and there. You collected yourself before it all hit you. He sounded so broken… It wasn’t like him at all.

There were no signs of the man you once knew. It reminded you of yourself when you broke down after reading his little note. Who would've known that a tiny piece of paper could ruin your life…

Shaking fingers reached for the brass doorknob and you turned it slowly. Anticipation was everywhere and you opened the door to enter his room. Lo and behold, there he was.

Joe Toye.

You haven’t seen him for four and a half years. It’s been so long since you actually saw him in person. Your (E/C) eyes ran over his body. He still looked the same- Soft and dark locks of hair were the same.

His wide dark brown eyes held surprise and love in them drew you in. His skin was paler than you remember, plus the addition of a few scars and wounds. Your eyes zoomed back to his face, and he looked just as surprised as you. 

“(Y/N)...?”

“Who else would it be, Joe?”

“I don’t get it, why are you here…? All of the sudden and out of the blue…” 

But you could tell that as soon as he saw you, his tone of voice got quieter. More gentle. And more loving.

The soft sounds of your footsteps against the polished wooden floors were loud and replaced the silence that ensued. You sat, the mattress dipping from your weight.

Tears suddenly erupted from your eyes, the feeling already too familiar with you. Joe immediately sprang up to wrap his arms around you. As he sat up, you failed to notice the slight wince he let out. Words left his lips to console you.

“(Y/N)- Babe… It’s alright, i’m here now.”

Sobs wracked your whole body, and you would shake in his embrace.

“Why Joe? Why did you do that to me? It’s been years Joe… Years. Can you believe that.”

Joe ran his hands up and down the small of your back, offering you slight comfort as you wailed words into his neck.

“I- I just couldn’t let myself see your face if I told you… You have to understand that it’d be worse if I actually told you-”

“But it hurt more, Joe… It hurt so much more…” 

The soft rubbing on your back slowed and stopped after a few moments. Joe let your words sink slowly into him, the way you said it embedding itself into his mind, and his brain played it over and over again.

His brown eyes were close to tears, feeling too watery. Joe turns his head to look at your face. How he missed you so. If only he knew how much pain he caused you.

A comfortable silence covered the room, and you two remained in each other’s arms, an occasional sniffle or word would be heard. Joe’s fingers twirled locks of your hair, and regret pooled in his stomach as he imagined your tear-stricken face after reading the letter.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so fucking sorry (Y/N).”

He dove down to bury his face in the side of your neck, his tears leaving a cool feeling against your skin. It was your turn to comfort him, and you wrapped your arms around him tighter, trying to make him feel more secure.

“How could you ever forgive me… How could- How could you ever forgive me for this… For what I did to you..”

“Joe… I already have.”

His shut eyes opened and he pulled away from the tender embrace you both shared. His eyes locked onto yours and his lips parted in shock.

“Why…? After all this?”

“Because I love you, Joe… I love you so much…”

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

Your eyes were still locked, and you could see how his eyes would quickly drift over to your lips. A soft smile blossomed on your face as you sniffled. Your smile fell as you remembered the nurse’s words.

“I heard about what happened, Joe… To your leg… I’m so sorry…”

“(Y/N), hey… I’m fine now remember. I’m alive.”

“But Joe-”

“And don’t apologize… It wasn’t your fault.”

You quieted down, and the comfortable silence took over once again. The sun was slowly setting as you could see from the windows. The mellow atmosphere calmed both you and Joe significantly.

Joe suddenly pulled you against his chest, and he hummed a song into your ear. The familiar tune of your favorite song greeted you, and your eyes lit up in response. Joe rubbed your upper arms slowly as you two swayed slowly to the tune.

You found yourself humming along slowly, your humming complimenting his. The end of the song came and you hummed the final note while looking into his eyes.

“(Y/N)?”

“Mm?”

“Do you still remember those promises I wrote to you?”

“Of course, how could I forget? What about them?”

“I intend on fulfilling at least one today…”

Joe’s eyes scanned and looked deeply into your eyes for approval. You consented with a slight nod of your head and that was all it took for him to kiss you. You have waited for so long, but his kiss made all  of it worth it. The two of you did anything to deepen the kiss just a bit more. It was passionate and so full of want. 

It completely encapsulated what both of you wanted ever since the war started. Fleeting touches exchanged during the kiss were replaced with intense ones. Your fists grabbing at his hair and him doing the same.

One of your hands reaches over to push him more against you and one of his grabs the collar of your blouse to pull you towards him.You were left breathless after the kiss, your hair was slightly disheveled and both of your faces flushed and feeling warm. 

Joe was gasping for air and he couldn’t get enough as your swollen lips were practically calling out to be kissed again. After a few moments of kissing and fond touches, you leaned your head on his broad shoulder, hand stroking his chest.

Your eyes drifted down to his blanket covered lower half and you stared at where his leg used to be. His eyes soften as he catches you looking. Joe’s mouth opens to ask you something but you beat him to it.

"So I guess we're not having that dance, huh?"

That was the first thing that came to your mind. 

There was undoubtedly a hint of sadness as you thought of what could have been. You were slightly disappointed and sad, but you couldn’t have been more glad to have Joe right here with you right now.

Melancholy thoughts were interrupted by Joe’s hearty chuckle. He pulls you into his lap, making you straddle him. Joe’s hands brush any stray hairs in the way of your face and his fingers gently brush a few locks of your (H/C) hair behind your ear.

A soft peck was placed on your lips, and a smile was brought back on your face, a flush also deciding to make an appearance. Joe’s warm eyes examine your features and he places his much bigger hands on your hips to keep you steady.

Another tender peck was felt, now on your cheek. Joe pulls away, his eyes cherishing the very sight of you. Joe flashes you bright, gleaming smile and it was accompanied by a few of his chuckles before he responded.

“Bullshit... Of course we're still having that dance."

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ahhhh im finally finished with one of my fics-

hope you enjoy this one loves 💕💕💕💕

btw loves, its like 1 am here and im woa-

btw sorry for any mistakes i was tired-

[smallerinfinities]

Closer: All Hallows Eve (Vampire!Shawn)

a/n: hello, my dear friends! I haven’t written in an age and then Halloween happened and I couldn’t help but revisit my friend vampire!Shawn. this was going to be a blurb LOL and then ended up turning into a 5.5k oneshot(?) of this little universe I’ve created. I honestly think Closer is going to be non-linear. a series of oneshots of different periods in Shawn’s vampire life. this is one such period. btw, some of this is based on characterizations found in the show Versailles, so if you’re into that show you might find familiar things in here! enjoy!

The first chapter of Closer, along with the rest of my writing is linked in my masterlist! ❤️

warnings: smut, blood, bisexuality, more blood, aggression, mentions of infant mortality

Two fingers of scotch swirled in the tumbler in front of him. Some tawdry monster song poured from the jukebox to a full crowd on the dance floor, accompanied by hoots and hollers from the humans. Halloween was always an event at The Trinity. Old and young, sire and fledgling, all of them flocked to the city for the festivities, for the time when the wall between paranormal and normal was but a translucent curtain, easily passed through or, in the case of The Trinity, ripped down. It was this one night a year that vampires could feed openly and no one batted an eyelash. Humans came dressed in costume and paid a pricey cover fee to get in. Liquor flowed freely from John Somerset’s bar and The Trinity vibrated with energy from sundown to sun up.

“It’s not what it used to be, is it?” John walked over with Shawn’s favorite scotch to top off his glass. Shawn hummed his assent, remembering a time when humans knew nothing of vampires, and their feeding habits weren’t such a spectacle. He missed the old days. Missed the thrill of the chase.

Tonight, he’d put forth minimal effort to keep up with the expectation, just painted black fingernails and a touch of eyeliner. Humans didn’t need much convincing once they looked at him. He had always been beautiful, even when he was a human in the 14th century, but when he became a vampire, that beauty was eternalized, frozen forever. Neither women nor men could resist him and he knew it.

“Remember 1685?” Shawn sat back and tilted his head at John.

“Ah, yes. You were in France then, oui?” John winked, clearing the wine bottle that had stacked up behind the bar.

“I was,” Shawn hummed and swilled his glass, tipping it up and letting the brown liquor burn his throat all the way down to his empty and aching stomach. His eyes shut, lulled by the warmth of his drink. Hazy memories burst into color behind his eyes.

+

His heeled shoes clicked against the parquet floor, the burgundy brocade bows adorning his toes kept in place by antique silver buckles. It was 1685, and Louis, le Roi Soleil, was King of France. The chandeliers above the king’s new mirrored walkway were lit with dripping candles, makeshift skeletons hanging from them. A macabre scene set for the masquerade happening at the palace. The noise rose to deafening as he crept toward the ballroom, filled with courtiers and royal family members, all of them ready to lay down at Louis’ feet. He entered quietly, like he usually did, not wanting to draw attention to himself in a room full of humans.

“RAUL!” The Duke of Orléans shouted Shawn’s French name over the crowd. The King’s brother came rushing over, his advancing age finally beginning to show in his face, “how long have you been here?!”

“Philippe, you just saw me walk in the door. Don’t be coy.” Shawn drew him in for a kiss on each side of his face. Philippe reached up and tousled Shawn’s cropped, curly brown hair.

“You know if you just wore your hair long people wouldn’t ask so many questions.” Philippe knew Shawn’s dark secret, knew what others whispered about him. Shawn could look around the room and pick out the handful of courtiers he’d fed on, courtiers he’d taken to his rooms in Philippe’s wing of the palace. Though Philippe had never shared his bed, he’d been Shawn’s friend for years, since his brother welcomed Shawn to the palace in the wake of the English Civil War thirty-five years ago. The duke had been ten then. The forty-five year old man in front of him was starting to gray.

“What makes you think I don’t want them to ask questions?” Shawn smiled wide enough to show his already lengthening fangs responding to the adrenaline and blood present in the room. There was no better place to feed than at a party in the presence of the king.

“Monsieur!” The Chevalier de Lorraine came up behind Philippe, tickling his sides. Ever since he’d returned from his second exile, the Chevalier and Philippe had been more and more open about their continued affair, despite Philippe’s wife dancing not ten yards from them in the ballroom. In fact, Philippe was wearing one of her heavy brocatelle gowns, much to his brother’s chagrin, and a golden mask that hid his whole face.

Shawn’s own mask was black with burgundy texture, a demon in plain sight. His jacket and culottes were black, embroidered with burgundy bats and stars. The leather sewn sleeves allowed his deep red shirt to show beneath. He was every bit a vampire, but the fools in the ballroom were too blind to see it. Especially tonight of all nights, All Hallows’ Eve.

He could see a few others here. His kind stuck out like blinding beacon amongst this crowd of flushed and greedy humans. Some were regulars in this crowd. He spotted Reynald de Chatillon, an old foe, in the corner with his ruddy beard and thirst for young ladies-in-waiting. He regarded him, nodding, receiving little more than a sneer in return. But others were new. A delicate shoulder brushed against his and a brilliant jewel caught his eye. She was cold as ice with a matching frozen glare. Her perfectly coiffed and powdered gray wig bespoke her fledgling age. The older the vampire, the more out of fashion they tended to be, and she was the epitome of fashion. Down to the smooth yellow sapphire delicately tied around her neck. He’d never seen her before, not quite a rarity, but he would be sure to ask Philippe about her later.

“Gentlemen!” Shawn clapped one hand on Philippe’s shoulder and one hand on Chevalier’s, “we feast tonight!” The two men led Shawn to the front of the room, giggling at his double entendre. Before any feasting though, the three of them had to acknowledge the king. Shawn bowed.

“Raul. So good of you to come,” the king’s lip curved up in the corner somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. Louis had never been able to stomach the truth about Shawn, even though Shawn’s money had helped make him the so-called Sun King. His disgust relegated Shawn to his brother’s company, which caused no complaint. Philippe was pleased to keep Shawn close, an addition to his band of privileged misfits.

“You know, you might be the only person my brother is more disappointed to see at these functions than me,” Philippe bumped Shawn’s shoulder as they walked away.

“Disappointed and yet he keeps you here,” Shawn reminded Philippe.

“That’s the real humor in it. To trap me under his thumb, he must gaze upon my face every day.” The duke smiled wide and curtsied, fanning out his overskirt and sticking his tongue straight out when he stood up again.

The party had been going for hours before Shawn had walked in. Generic golden masks littered the tables, some soggy from tipped champagne flutes. Chevalier seized one, licking up some stray champagne from its edge. He’d come unprepared for the occasion as he usually did, unbothered by party themes especially those hosted at Versailles. Affixing the mask to his face, he grabbed at Philippe’s hand.

“Darling! Let us dance!”

Shawn let them skitter into the center of the dance floor without him. The crowd parted  to the center as it always did. Philippe was still the king’s brother and that afforded him privileges no matter what others thought of his choice of lovers. The two of them were so caught up in each other that the opinion of others didn’t matter.

Shawn kept to the perimeter, preferring to stalk the room. He caught eyes here and there. He could smell their responses to him before he saw them. A girl no more than eighteen flushed immediately when his eyes met hers, her giggle betraying her girlish immaturity. He turned from her, hearing her little sigh of disappointment, before his eyes stopped and lingered at someone else.

He was feeling aggressive tonight. Though his body was devoid of blood, the chemicals that had once made him human still coursed through his muscles. They made him strong and virile and, more than anything, an animal. He needed to chase tonight, to delight in the thrill of catching his prey.

He turned his nose toward the breeze in the room and let it guide him, taking quick sniffs, trying to cut through the smell of champagne and red wine. Closing his eyes to strengthen his other senses, he caught a whiff of cinnamon and turned his head. He honed in on the spice of it, the touch of bergamot that thickened the blood. When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping.

It was a man. A young man dressed in uniform with a navy blue mask, peacock feathers sprouting from the temples. The gold of his buttons glimmered in the candlelight, his jacket settled against a defined chest untouched by war. His turquoise and gold eyes contrasted starkly with the black eye kohl that ringed them, eyes that kept darting to and from Shawn’s face. Shawn stared, moving toward him slowly. Even though the room was filled with music and dancing and the dim hum of a thousand voices, he knew that his feet made no noise.  

The hunt had begun.

“Do you know,” Shawn reached out his hand and fingered the delicate feathers, “that these are the same color as your eyes?”

“Enchanté to you too, Monsieur Mendès. Or should I call you Shawn?” He emphasized the name with a curl in his lip.

“You know me?” Shawn’s eyes widened in surprise. In this court he’d only ever been known as Raul Mendès, the French rendering of one of his Christian names.

“If by know you, you mean do I know the truth of what people say about you?” he bowed low, his outstretched hand brushing Shawn’s shoes. “Then yes, I know you quite well.” When he reached his full height again, he had removed his mask and revealed his flushed pink cheeks. Shawn could see the blood rushing wildly with his quickly beating heart just under the skin. His mouth watered despite the panic rising in his throat.

“Well, well, and who are you, monsieur?” Shawn dipped his head, filled with nerves he’d never show. If he had a pulse right now, if would be racing. Thank God he hadn’t fed in over a month. A vampire’s name was a closely guarded secret, known only to familiars, especially a former name.

“I am Lucien de Foix, a captain in the king’s army,” he stuck out his hand for Shawn to shake. Shawn took it hesitantly, a creeping unsteadiness overtaking him. How does he know my name? He kept a grip on Lucien’s hand, squeezing a little harder than he normally would, squeezing until he could see the sweat forming on the young captain’s head. Lucien’s brow creased, his mouth opening as if he might cry out, but as he looked past Shawn something caught his eye and to Shawn’s horror, he smiled.

“There, there, Shawn,” a cold hand, accompanied by a female voice, ran down his back and caused him to shiver. “Fear not, we are the only ones here who know your secret.”

It was the young fledgling vampire with the powdered wig. Her skin, unlike the white painted faces in the room, was naturally pale as blank china, marred only by a pair of starkly painted black eyebrows and two round circles of blush. She pursed her lips, tinted crimson as if she’d recently fed and left the stain. She circled Shawn, stopping in front of him and linking her arm with Lucien’s. Shawn turned his hand, exposing Lucien’s wrist and the livid, purple pinpoint marks left by repeated feedings. He should have fucking known.

“So,” he squeezed his hand again, enough to feel the bones grind together, “you’re a blood slave.” The fledgling hissed at him, whether it was at sensing her toy’s pain or at his implication, he didn’t know. If he hadn’t been in a ballroom full of people, he might have snapped both their necks without consequence or remorse. As it was, he had to play nice.

“He is my husband,” she cooed into Lucien’s neck, her tongue darting out to trace the bulging vein running from his collar to his well-defined jaw.

“A tasty one at that, I presume,” Shawn smirked at her. He knew this game. Vampires developed a taste for certain humans, enthralling them, keeping them as pets. She may have convinced him that he meant something to her, something more permanent, but one day she would move on. He would not. He would likely descend into madness, looking for her or for his next pleasure fix, but no vampire would touch him after that. He would be persona non grata, tainted and tossed aside.

“Very,” she purred, “can I interest you in a taste?”

“That depends,” Shawn hated that his mouth was still watering, still craving the spice that his blood promised, “who are you and what do you want from me?”

“I,” she held her hand out for him to kiss in a deep curtsy, “am Madame de Montpensier, enchanté.” Her wig was fixed with several small doves, matching the embroidery on her silver and white gown. Even at her most bowed, the wig still reached clear over Shawn’s head. This vampire wanted to be seen.

“And I would like you to introduce me to your friends.” She nodded toward the two men still at the center of attention on the dance floor.

“To Philippe?” Shawn tipped his head and laughed, “Philippe has little time or regard for women. I doubt you’d gain any ground on that front.”

“Oh, it is not pour moi,” she nodded at Lucien and he advanced toward Shawn, his heart kicking up speed. Shawn’s fangs grew to full length. They ached to sink into his beautiful tan skin. God, it was as if she knew he hadn’t been feeding, knew his habits and preferences. His weakness for young men with ambition and a false sense of power. It was as if this Lucien had been groomed for this.

The pieces finally clicked. His eyes darkened and his voice lowered to a whisper through his teeth.

“Tell me, Madame, has Reynald fallen so far out of favor that he sends his young fledgling to do his bidding?” Fucking Reynald. This was low, even for a leech like Reynald. His claws were always in some king’s coattails. It was the only way to keep up with his ravenous appetite for blood and power.

“Reynald does not need you! He is just as powerful as he always was!” She seethed, tilting her head toward Lucien again. He draped himself in front of Shawn, practically offering himself for the taking. Shawn could feel his body stirring. He wanted this man, wanted to rip into his veins and drink until he couldn’t anymore, until his whole body was hot and flushed with the young captain’s blood. Until his heart beat again and the memories surged behind his eyelids.

“Reynald needs me plenty or you wouldn’t be here,” Shawn spat, locking eyes with Lucien, a hair’s breadth away from taking him right then and there. He dipped his head to Lucien’s ear, licking the outer shell and relishing the feel of his body shivering beneath him.

He could see his ministrations were having an effect on her. Her fangs were lengthening. Shawn could smell her arousal, the blood and adrenaline a trap for one so young as she was. She couldn’t have been more than fifty years dead, frozen forever in her twenty-year-old body. She was thirsty. All the time. That feeling, the clawing beast inside her skin that could never be sated, the endless need for blood in the first century of her new life would be almost unbearable.

He took Lucien’s earlobe between his teeth, grazing, but not breaking the skin before he whispered.

“Run.”

Lucien shot from Shawn’s arms, past his mistress and toward the enormous French doors that led to the outdoor terrace. Shawn was so attuned to him now, so caught up in the chase that he could hear Lucien’s booted footfalls on the delicately manicured grass over the din of the crowded room. He stood in front of Madame de Montpensier and waited.

“Thank you for the gift, you’re more than welcome to join me,” he heard his prey stumble on the gravel path near the great fountain in the garden, “but you can tell Reynald that it will take more than a beautiful boy and a game of blackmail to get me to do his bidding.” He brushed past her, too concentrated on the blood waiting for him in the garden to hear her cry of indignance.

Exiting the ballroom to the terrace, he crouched down and laid his palm against the chilly stone. He could hear Lucien breathing hard. He was running. His footfalls vibrated against the stone from the treeline, slower and slower until he stopped to catch his breath. Shawn smiled, finding his opportunity.

He sprinted, almost faster than a human eye could track, his vampire speed in the dark rendering him practically invisible. His feet barely touched the ground, silently making his way closer and closer toward Lucien’s gasping breaths. He stopped behind a tree, looking past it. Lucien was doubled over, his cheeks flushed with exhilaration, sucking cold air into his lungs and huffing out little clouds with every exhale. Shawn snapped a fallen twig under his heel on purpose.

“Who’s there?!” Lucien’s head snapped up.

“There, there, monsieur,” Shawn cooed, using his softest voice to soothe, “you knew it was me.” He smiled wide, his fangs extending past his lower lip, as if they might cut into his own skin. Stalking silently, he moved closer, taking measured, slow steps to put Lucien at ease. The blood tasted so much sweeter when it wasn’t tainted with fear.

“You won’t hurt me? Madame never makes it hurt.”

“I make no promises.” Shawn stopped just in front of him, dragging a cold finger down in his pink cheek. His skin was on fire despite the chill in the air. The warmth of his blood sang a rich melody that only Shawn could hear. It was intoxicating. He bent down to Lucien’s mouth, where the smell of him was strongest.

“Can I kiss you?” Shawn asked, an honest question. He prefered intimacy with his prey. He wanted them to feel the truth of his desire, wanted them to know that without them, he was nothing. As powerful as he was as a vampire, he was nothing without their blood. He wanted them to want it.

Lucien nodded his head, a crease between his eyes as if he was surprised he felt agreeable to it. Shawn grinned. Men were always surprised at how far they were willing to go to gain Shawn’s approval.

Shawn pressed his lips to Lucien’s and gasped into his mouth. It was simple, two lips pressed together, but it was heady with that natural spice that men always seemed to have. The power they sacrificed to be fed upon, the beautiful surrender of delicate ego. It was everything that he loved about being a vampire captured in a moment of pure submission. He pulled away light-headed, his eyes black with hunger.

Shawn’s cold fingers found Lucien’s neck, tipping it to the side, exposing that deep, pulsing vein that he could see beating a quick rhythm full of blood, even in the low light. He cradled his head and ran his tongue along the sinews, the muscles that would become his chalice. Lucien shivered, gasping a hot breath against Shawn’s cold skin, filling Shawn’s nose with that warm spice that he’d smelled on the air inside.

His fangs broke skin.

Lucien cried out. In pleasure or pain, Shawn didn’t know. He didn’t care. All he knew was the taste of the warm, viscous liquid pouring from Lucien’s neck. Cinnamon, citrus, smoke. Each note bloomed behind his closed eyes in brilliant jewel tones. Rubies, emeralds, and amethysts swirled like a kaleidoscope.

Shawn felt Lucien’s fingers curl into his hair and push his neck farther into Shawn’s mouth, forcing Shawn to pull even more of his precious blood. It overflowed, dripping in rivulets from Shawn’s mouth. There would be stains, evidence of what had happened, but Shawn didn’t care. He was lost in this man. For a split second, he understood why Montpensier had taken him as a slave. Regular encounters with these veins would surely drive him mad.

The kaleidoscope swam as it always did into images, the moments from his past that he hid from between feedings. The list he kept of the humans he’d fed on turned into faces, one by one swimming into his mind. Memories of blood, of battle, of humanity. His heart was coming alive again, beating strong with Lucien’s blood, stronger than Lucien’s own heart.

He pulled away panting. Lucien’s head lulled, still alive but incoherent. Shawn laid him gently on the cold ground and backed away, controlling the temptation to take all that Lucien would give him, all that he had to give. Leaning heavily on a massive old oak, Shawn’s mind swam. His old life, his old humanity was coming back to him on a tidal wave, slamming him over and over into the bark against his back. Poitiers, Agincourt, Bosworth, Paris, Bologne. So much death and blood and iron, battles between kings and men, all dead and buried, turned to dust.

The final wave of memories was always the same hazy image. A fire burning in the hearth of the home he’d built with his own hands, a woman and child in a chair before it. He walks up behind her, touching her shoulder, and she looks back smiling. The child suckling at her breast, warm and pink, fixes him with a blue-eyed stare. It was everything he’d ever wanted.

And it was taken from him.

His chest rose and fell. The compelling need to breathe to keep up with his newly beating heart overwhelmed him. He always felt most human in the seconds just after the feed. Though blood coated his chin and ran down to his now ruined shirt, his senses were dulled to that of a living thing. He couldn’t hear past the beating of his own heart, couldn’t taste past the life he’d consumed. He was vulnerable and she knew it.

Madame de Montpensier had been watching. She came out from behind the tree where she’d been hiding, smiling wide, fangs grown to their full length. Closing the gap between them quickly, she planted her hands above Shawn’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the loose curls at his neck.

“Isn’t he lovely?” She cooed, looking back at her pet lying on the ground.

“He is,” Shawn licked his lips, turning her head with his fingers to look him in the eye, “‘tis a dangerous game you play with Reynald. You would do well to not cross me again.”

“Reynald is gone,” she whispered, “and besides, I’m not sure he interests me anymore.” She set him with a look, a look that shouted his needs and greatest desires into existence. If he wanted her, he only needed to reach out and take.

“Oh, does he not? Madame, I know you are young,” he rested his forehead against hers, his earlier anger eroding by the second, “but you will find disavowing your sire more difficult than you think.”

“That may be,” she lifted up onto her tip-toes, reaching her tongue out to lap up some of Lucien’s still warm blood from Shawn’s chin, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while I try.” She ran her hand down his chest to where the blood he’d taken from Lucien was rapidly pooling in his groin.

He growled, taking her hand and moving to drag her off to the nearest bedroom. She dug in her heels to stop him, looking back at Lucien still passed out.

“Leave him,” Shawn barked, “perhaps it will teach him not to dally with vampires.”

In a moment, they were back in Shawn’s rooms, a trail of shredded clothing on the floor from the door to the bed. She moved to remove her choker but he stopped her.

“Leave it on,” he snarled, rolling his hose down and removing the last of his ripped and bloody shirt. She moved her hands away from her throat and sat back on the bed, leaning back on her hands. She spread her legs in an open invitation.

She was fucking beautiful. Her skin glowed in the half-burned candles sitting on every surface, smooth and unmarred by age or sickness. He couldn’t stop himself from groaning. It had been some time since he’d been with a woman. Too long. He approached her slowly, bending down to crawl on his knees to her.

He covered her body with his, taking in her clean scent suffused with Lucien’s. They were both warm, hearts beating together with the same blood. She curled her legs around his thighs.

“I want you inside me.” She purred in his ear.

All he’d needed was permission. He drove his hips into hers, pumping deep into her warm cunt. She cried out, arching her back and clamping her arms into his wrists. Her nails dug into his skin, drawing blood. Hissing, he pulled back and lifted onto his knees. She laughed, licking each of her crimson stained fingers.

“Come on, Shawn. Give me everything you’ve got.”

He roared. Grabbing her hips, he pulled almost all the way out of her warmth and then tugged her back onto him. Their skin met in a deliciously wet slap and echoed off the ornate walls. It was intense. He felt her clench around him, deep inside, all the way through his repeated strokes. He rowed into her over and over and over again until the delicate doves placed in her wig flew off the bed, cracking loudly against the floor. She held tight to the bedpost behind her, her strength creating resistance for him to fuck harder into.

He wasn’t going to last much longer like this, but he needed her there with him. To fall off the cliff and into the ocean of Lucien’s blood that they shared. He wrapped his arm around her middle, hauling her up to his chest and slamming them both backward against the headboard, still fucking his hips up into hers.

Her eyes were black, her mouth open in silent pleasure. He wanted to hear her scream.

Shawn ducked his head to her chest, placing open mouthed kisses along her breast bone. Her red-flushed nipples called to him, grazing his chest with every thrust.

“Come with me.”

He sank his fangs into her breast, suckling on her perfect diamond-hard peaks. Blood rushed again into his mouth, filling him with that spicy, citrusy blood he’d lost himself in earlier. It mixed with florals, oleander and magnolia, inside her body and he came hard with the mix of masculine and feminine.

“Shawn!” she cried, bearing down on him harder than ever, riding her own orgasm into the wall behind her. They rocked back and forth together. Shawn fucked his hips up into hers as she held his head to her chest. Her memories came to him, blooming in front of him as strong as her shaking body in his arms.

There were not many of them; as he had suspected, she was not old. He saw her as a young woman, a human, hand in hand with a child, a daughter, with bouncy, loose blond curls. He saw her dressed all in black, saw Reynald finding her on her knees beside a child’s mausoleum. He promised he could take her pain away.

Reynald lied.

He let go of her breast, breathless for the second time that night. She heaved against him, clawing at his face, pulling him to her lips. Blood poured into her mouth and they both moaned, her memories and his mixing. New and old, predator and prey, lovers.

They collapsed onto the blood stained sheets. Shawn held his arms open and she crawled into them quietly, fingering the bit of chest hair that had grown before he had left his humanity behind. She knew what he’d seen. When vampires fed from each other, the memories flashed in both their minds.

“Reynald made false promises because he wanted you,” he whispered, tracing patterns on her bare skin, “he is nothing but a liar.”

“Will I ever forget her?” she asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it from someone she knew would tell her the truth.

“No,” he kissed her forehead, “she will come to you every time you feed, just like I see my wife and child even now more than three hundred years since their passing.”

“Teach me,” she pleaded, the hazel of her human eyes bright after feeding, “teach me how to live with the pain.”

“Shhhh,” he smoothed her hair, “let us sleep.” He draped the heavy blankets over them and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Nothing could dare hurt you here.”

+

“Shawn?” John clinked his glass with an empty beer bottle, “I think someone is watching you.” He nodded to a far corner, beyond the sea of human and vampire heads now dancing idiotically to “Monster Mash.” The figure moved with inhuman speed through the crowd.

He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing a ghost.

How in the —

“Oh, don’t look so shocked to see me, Shawn,” she lifted her black leather covered leg over his, “All Hallows Eve always was our time.” Her lips, always painted red, lifted back over her cartoonishly long fake fangs.

“Hélène, what are you doing here?”

“Don’t you mean, Hélène, how did you escape when I left you for dead?” She narrowed her eyes to slits, her long chandelier earrings tinkling under her blunt-cut black bob haircut.

“It was 1792, Ellie. You wouldn’t leave France. You made your choice.”

“It was my home!”

John made a clicking noise, “vampire disputes go outside.”

“There’s no need, John. She was just going,” Shawn glared at her. “We have no dealings. If you are only interested in blaming me for what I could not change, then we have nothing to discuss.”

She slammed her hand down on the bar, leaving a wax-sealed envelope in front of him. An ornate, crimson R was pressed into the black wax.

“Reynald requests your presence.”

“You went back to him?” Shawn shook his head, a humorless grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, “after all that time?”

“Yeah, well he didn’t abandon me.” She picked up her leg and turned to leave, giving his curls a tug at the last second. He caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. She was warm, recently fed. He had always loved her skin in the days after a feeding, curling into her warmth every night in bed. They fed and fucked and drank and danced for a century and she still went back to him.

“I never meant for that to happen.” He wasn’t sure what he had meant to happen all those years ago when he left her, the peasants breaking windows and setting fires a few blocks from their Paris apartment, but he sure as hell didn’t mean for her to go to him.

“We never mean for bad things to happen, but it’s like you said that first night. I don’t know why I ever thought I could disavow him.” She wiped at the corner of her eye, ripping her hand from his and hurrying away from the bar.

Shawn ripped open the note she’d left.

Dear Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,

Did I get all of your names in? I do love knowing them all.

Isn’t she lovely? Thank you for taking her in all those years ago. She was too headstrong, too willing to leave. I love her now. My beautiful broken pony. She begged for my forgiveness. I gave it to her. It took awhile. Fifty years in an abandoned well. That was how long it took to get your stink off of her.

I do hope you’ll come see us. I’m sure you remember where to find me.

Best wishes,

  Reynald

Shawn crumpled up the old piece of paper and lobbed it into the fire near the stairs to the street. White, hot anger courses through him. He needed to leave before he took and fed on the first thing that fell into his arms, unsure if he could feed without draining. He needed to find Hélène. He needed to find Reynald.

I’m going to kill that bastard once and for all.

taglist: @justanotherfangurl272​ @siennarossi​ @trustfundshawn​ @alone-in-madness​ @harryandmolly​ @mendesromano​ @fromthicctosticc​ @esoltis280​ @softmendesss​ @sinplisticshawn​ @nedthegay​ @september-lace​ @itrocksmysocks​ @disaster-rose​ @mendesoft​ @luvluvxx​ @i-play-video-games​ @ihearthemcallingforyou​ @hi-my-name-is-sid​ @gentleshawn​ @kitykatnumber​ @enchantingbrowneyedgirl​ @ijustreallylikeshawnokay​ @shhhawnmendes​ @shawnsblue​ 

[monsterlovinghours]

Incubus!Beej angst where reader gets upset because ‘you only want to be around me when you’re hungry!’ And beej can’t deny it but then when they storm off he realises he actually has deeper feelings, something rare for a demon like him. Reader probably comes back later anywhere from tipsy to totally smashed, and beej takes care of them and reminds them that they’re /his/ pet breather and he does really care about them, why else would he not want to feed on anyone else?Your writing is amazing btw

all aboard the feels train

Rain pattered against the window, blown against the glass by cold gusts of wind. You could feel the chill outside through the glass, the branches of the tree and your hands shaking to the same irregular rhythm, as if the gale outside was blowing through you as well, whistling through the empty parts of you. You wondered as you watched the rain how emptiness could ache so much. 

Today had been hard. He was gone when you woke up, you didn’t know when he would be back, and you had been gutted to realize that you missed him. It had been a few weeks since Beetlejuice had first appeared in your dreams, filling your head with erotic promises, cajoling whispers, visions of obscene acts that made you moan and writhe in the bed. You had no choice but to surrender, to end the sweet torture by whispering his name three times, and open your eyes to the very real incubus crawling over you. Every day since then had been occupied by him, plans you had made abandoned to appease his seemingly bottomless hunger. Never in your life had you ever felt so desired, so wanted, but in the spare moments when he let you out of his sight to clean up or change the sheets, you had to steady yourself, take a deep breath and remind yourself that this wasn’t the same thing as love. His lust was born out of necessity, not from any real emotion; you were a source of nourishment, and that was the extent of it. There would be no point in trying to look for something that wasn’t there, or to develop feelings for someone who could never return them. Sound advice, but you could no more stop yourself from growing attached to him than you could stop the earth from turning. When you had roused from sleep, the taste of him still etched on your lips and your thighs still sticky with his spend, to find your bed cold and empty, your eyes stung and your chest ached. You almost said his name, almost called him back to you, but something stopped you, a small but insistent voice.

He left because he doesn’t care. 

He got his fill of you and now he’s moved on. 

You’re pathetic, clinging to any shred of attention just so you can fool yourself into thinking someone wants you. 

Don’t humiliate yourself. Suck it up and accept that you’ll always be alone.

So you had stayed silent, moping about the house as the stormclouds began gathering outside, finally folding yourself against the window to watch the rain fall. It was easier here, somehow, with your cheek against the cold glass; it was easy to pretend it was the rain that made you sad, the gloom outside that brought the tears to your eyes, and not the gaping loneliness.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, sweeping your hair to the side to expose your neck, still covered in his marks, for a brief moment, you felt a tiny flicker of hope. At the press of his mouth just beneath your ear, his hands dropping to curve in your waist, that flicker died out, and your hurt tripled. He was just hungry again. That was the only reason he returned. Biting your lip, you shrugged away from him, willing the tears back. Beetlejuice huffed, then wrapped his arms around your middle and dragged you back against him, teeth scraping across the juncture of neck and shoulder. Suddenly, that cold, emptiness turned scorching, anger at his casual use of you searing through your nerves, and you jerked out of his grasp. 

“Leave me alone.”

He growled. “What’s your problem, snack cake?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Fucking clearly.” He grabbed your arm, turning you to face him and yanking you forward, spilling you against him. “What’s with the cold shoulder all of a sudden? You didn’t seem to mind being touched last night-”

You couldn’t help yourself. Your hand felt cold, numb as you drew it back and slapped him hard across the face. Shocked, his grip loosened, and you backed away from him, your face contorted in uncharacteristic rage. 

“I said, leave me alone!” You remembered what he had said that first night, smirking down at you, hand outstretched but not quite touching you. I can’t take what isn’t offered. “I revoke my consent!”

He snarled, but stayed where he was, hands clenching and unclenching uselessly at his sides. “Start talking, feeder. What the fuck’s gotten into you?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” You shot back, eyes narrowed, shaking from head to toe. “Don’t insult me by pretending to care; you don’t give a shit about how I feel and you never have. The only reason you’re even here is because you’re hungry!”

He had the decency to look a little taken aback, brows furrowed in confusion. “Well...yeah. I’m an incubus, babe, this is how it works. You know that.”

Knowing it was one thing. Hearing him say it out loud was another, and you couldn’t stop your lip from trembling or your breath from hitching in your chest. He tried taking a step towards you, but you skittered back, wanting to stay as far from him as possible. You couldn’t take it, you couldn’t stay here another minute, couldn’t bear to even look at him; you turned on your heel and ran for the door, bolting outside and into the rain, ignoring his shouts for you to wait, to come back and talk to him, dammit! The door slammed, leaving him alone in your empty, silent house.

Beetlejuice paced in front of the windows, the floorboards creaking beneath him, hair that had been baleful crimson before now a deep, bruise-colored violet. You had been gone for hours. He growled to himself, and although the sound was angry, not a hint of red appeared in his hair. He couldn’t find it in himself to be mad; if anything, he was worried. Worried about a silly human feeder out in the rain, and wasn’t that absurd? Why should he care what happened to you? Why did the thought of you storming off with tears in your eyes make his chest hurt? Why hadn’t he gone after you? His hands raked back through his hair, not used to the strange tumble of different emotions crashing through him, not sure that he particularly liked feeling this way. This wasn’t how these things were supposed to go; he had certainly never felt this way about any other human he’d fed from. Maybe...maybe it wasn’t just hunger that led him back to you. Maybe it was...something else? Something he couldn’t name, didn’t want to name. 

He heard the door open, and saw you tumble through the doorway, soaked to the skin and swaying on the spot. Swearing beneath his breath, he rushed to you, ignoring the burn on his palms as he touched you, steadied you. You were mumbling something, your words slurred and garbled and indecipherable, and Beetlejuice rolled his eyes as he caught the strong smell of hundred proof whiskey on your breath. “Fucking hell, snack cake, what did you go and do that for?”

“Rather be drunk than be sad,” you slurred, leaning against him. In your inebriated state, you couldn’t give consent to be touched, and every contact burned, but he grit his teeth and picked you up regardless, ignoring the faint sizzling of his skin as he brought you to your bed. He laid you out on the blanket, knowing it would be nearly impossible for him to remove your wet clothes, and settled for draping two more blankets over the top of you, lying over your form and hoping that his weight would warm you. At least now, you didn’t seem to protest his nearness, and for that, he was grateful. Beetlejuice sighed, the violet in his hair fading back to green at the roots. 

“If I wasn’t already dead, I’d say you’re going to put me in an early grave,” he muttered. His tail swished through the air as he watched you grow still and silent under the blankets, drifting off into alcohol-assisted slumber. He could only imagine the headache you were going to have when you woke tomorrow. “Jesus, babe...I’m supposed to be the messy one.” His mouth quirked in a dry smile, unsure if you could still hear him, if you could understand him. “You’re the good one here, the one with your shit together. I’m a thousand year old demon with mommy issues who has to fuck to survive. And I can’t even do that right.” What had begun to fade to green now turned deep blue, and he lowered his cheek to your blanket-covered shoulder. “I’m not supposed to have feelings for my food. I’m not supposed to worry about you. But you...you’re mine, you know? I want to keep you. My own little pet breather.” He chuckled, but the sound was devoid of humor. “I don’t wanna feed on anyone else. No one else tastes like you do, no one else...makes me feel things the way you do.” He buried his face in the blankets, a frustrated sound muffled among them. “You’re not even going to remember this, you’re going to wake up tomorrow and still hate me, but fuck it, I’m not leaving again. If you’re gonna hate me, I’m gonna stick around and take it. I’d rather have your hate than your nothing.”