#but now I definitely have at least a sprinkle of it on top of the entire fuckery that is my neurodivergent traumatised brain

[jules-van-hering]

goddamn, just found out that there seems to be a connection between the thyroid condition I got diagnosed with at 21 and developing adhd later in life. I feel like I'm a private investigator who's trying to solve the puzzle of my fucked up mental and physical health and I'm slowly getting to the core of it all

[azuredawn81]

patron of the arts p2 | quinn hughes x musician!reader

read part 1 here

♫ summary: quinn has been nervous for every date with y/n. it seems like everything’s on the line; if he messes up, he could lose y/n. but y/n is dedicated to making sure he knows that she doesn’t mind. that doesn’t stop him from going all out.

♫ pairing: quinn hughes x reader

♫ content: fluff, insecure quinn, intentional lowercase

♫ word count: 0.9k (sorry not sorry)

♫ warnings: none

♫ note: i might make a separate post with the pasta recipe bc i make that at least once a week and it’s SO GOOD

♫ italics mean thoughts

♫ listen to this for the full experience

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

quinn had been tending to the pan on stove when the doorbell rang. he nonchalantly walked to the door, trying to calm his nerves. that was definitely y/n.

“delivery for quinn hughes?”

“yes that’s me.”

“sign on the line.”

he took the package, placed it on the table, and went back to the kitchen. he stirred the tomatoes around with a spatula, flipping the tangy slices over every now and then. the olive oil sizzled and crackled in the pan, embruing the tomatoes with its bitter taste. he sprinkled some diced garlic in the pan, stirred around some more, then placed the lid back on the pan. quinn turned his attention back to the pot, stirring the farfalle around in the boiling water. he poured a little more salt into the water. then, he turned the burner down to low, letting the water simmer.

his attention shifted to the table. he’d recently invested in a simple black tablecloth, trying to look more proper for when y/n comes over. he spread it out over the wooden tabletop, smoothing out all the wrinkles. two plates across from each other, each with a napkin, a fork, and a wine glass. he moved the bouquet of roses from the counter to the table.

then, the timer beeped. he went to the kitchen yet again, this time to strain the pasta. he poured the pot into a colander, letting the water flow into the sink. he took the bay leaves out of the pasta pile, throwing those in the trash can under the sink. he dumped the pasta back into the pot, then portioned out the exact measurement of sauce from the jar, stirring it up. after putting the pasta into a nice bowl, he grabbed the tray of garlic bread from the oven, carefully putting one tomato slice on each piece of bread. the juice seeped from the fruit onto the bread, its warm redness imbuing itself into the grain.

the doorbell rang again. quinn fixed his hair.

“quinn!” y/n exclaimed, a smile on her perfect face. she wrapped her arms around his neck. he returned the hug, his arms snaking around her waist.

“it’s good to see you, y/n.”

“how was practice?”

“nothing crazy, just morning skate… this morning.”

“smells good.”

“yeah, um, i made dinner.”

“you cook?”

“i try.”

she giggled. “you’re funny, hughes.”

“yeah, i try.”

quinn, you’re so dumb. first, morning skate this morning, now “i try” two sentences in a row?

“i like funny guys so… guess you’re in luck.”

quinn broke into a goofy grin.

“and cute guys, so you’re just checking the boxes.”

“um… do you want to eat?”

“i’d love to.”

quinn gently took her hand and led y/n to the table, pulling her chair out.

“and they say chivalry’s dead.”

quinn started blushing like the tomatoes on the garlic bread. “n-not here.”

“so chef hughes, what’s on the menu?”

“pasta and garlic bread.”

“original.”

“it’s very good.”

“i’m sure it is.”

he picked up her plate and walked over to the kitchen, placing the food onto the dish.

“first, we have farfalle pasta with a garlic basil marinara sauce.”

“yum.”

“then, we have garlic bread, made by me this afternoon, with butter and fresh garlic. on top, there’s sautéed tomatoes, with olive oil and pink salt.”

he put the plate down in front of her. “and for the drink, a nice rosé.”

she watched as he poured into her glass. “scrumptious.”

y/n couldn’t help but stare as quinn got food for himself. even this simple action of scooping pasta onto a plate was just so so attractive. she stabbed three of the farfalle with her fork and put it in her mouth.

“hughes, this is so good!”

“you like it?”

“quinn, i just said it was so good.”

“oh well, maybe you just said that to be nice.”

“are you serious?”

“what?”

“quinn, are you okay?”

“y-yeah, i’m fine.”

“you’ve been acting weird tonight.”

“well, yeah, i, um, i had a question b-but i’m just…”

“just what?” he stared down at his food, avoiding her gaze.

“quinn, please talk to me.”

“i’m nervous, okay? i’ve been freaking out all day because i’m nervous that you’ll realize you can do better. that you could have pretty much any man in vancouver. that i’m not… not enough for you.”

“you really think that way?”

“you’re just so amazing and i’m just some guy with eye bags.”

“i quite like your eye bags.”

“actually?”

“yes i like my boyfriend’s eye bags.”

quinn went bug eyed. “b-boyfriend?”

“are you not my boyfriend?”

“well, i mean, i don’t know, i thou-”

“i wore your jersey to your games.”

“and i’m really happy about that, b-”

“the other wags love me.”

“that’s really great, but-”

“i’m sorry, i just assumed-”

“i was gonna ask you to be my girlfriend tonight.”

“quinn, i-”

“please?”

“of course.”

he had a giddy grin on his face. “are you sure it’s not the wine talking?”

“i’m sure.”

“i guess you have to be a canucks fan now.”

“baby, i’m from vancouver. i’ve always been a canucks fan.”

“my cute little canadian girlfriend.”

“you know you have to come to all my concerts now, right?”

“like i’d ever miss one.”

part 3

tags: @verycoolusername1 @luvoblivixus @tomskookie @leclerc-drives-in-circles @dream-girl06 @skepvids @how-what-why-huh @devilinpradaheels @r0wdymaize86

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[hyhkai]

k.taehyun — dangerous woman!

[ 📚 ] after accidentally eavesdropping taehyun talking with his friends, you've got a question unanswered, a question which is straight up hilarious because it shouldn't be asked in the first place.

content : plot sprinkles, dom!reader sub!tyun, taehyun goes around calling the reader his wife/girlfriend, 'taehyun likes smart girls' agenda, public (in the empty auditorium), blowjob, degradation (m. rec.), making tyun swallow his own cum hah

a/n ; NEEDS TO BE EDITED! idk why I named it dangerous woman for angie and smiles txt birthday event + technically written off of my this thought but it doesn't appear in the limelight as brightly. though i still abide by it and always will. i have no clue how auditoriums look in your guys' vision but 🙏

"what're you even trying to do? makeout with me?" he asked as you pulled him aside from the piled hallway and led him to the top floor.

"trust me," you looked back at him, agony filled eyes. "kissing you is the last mistake I want to make, and I make a lot of mistakes."

he chuckled, god, he chuckled. he has some guts. "if you've started to make mistakes, then I'm a failure, noona."

he's always been like this. you wondered if he had some borderline obsession with you. which, now that you've found out the shit he's been going around blabbering — he definitely is obsessed with you.

almost throwing the two of you into the auditorium when you spotted a council member; you shut the door behind yourself as you stared at him, pulling his backpack onto his shoulder. "I'm actually starting to think you want to kiss me. it could've been in the cafeteria, no? why hide like we're middle schoolers?"

you shook your head no. "i already told you, I'd never kiss a dumb dog like you."

"then what are we here for?"

"why are you telling your friends I'm your girlfriend?"

silence. for about a minute. or two.

"i didn't." he said, turning back and walking to one of the chairs, sitting on the one at the corner. he's seriously planning to pretend, that he didn't go around saying you both fuck everyday.

"I don't like liars." you mumbled, walking behind him and letting yourself fall onto the chair right beside him, knees buckling. "what kind of a lie is this? we both are stuck in a loop of arguments and flirting. what makes you want to go around saying I'm your girlfriend?"

"I felt like it." he said dryly, eyes cast down at his fingers as they fidgeted.

"felt like it? you—" you closed your eyes in annoyance, nostrils flaring as your neck turned to look at him. "you felt like telling everyone that I'm your girlfriend? me of all people?" you hissed, he's such a bitch. fucking asshole.

it takes the average human being to start dating after 1-3 months of knowing each other, but it took taehyun one month to walk you down the aisle in his puerile dreams.

"well, why not you?" he asked, looking down at your fingers that were sprinkled with ink. you'd never dated any of the guys around here — because they're such bitches. what about the one in front of you? very evident.

"because I'm never going to really date you!" you almost yelled, lowering your noise when you heard your voice hit the walls of the empty auditorium.

"okay whatever, what're you gonna do about it?" he huffed out, his arms escaping the straps of his backpack.

motherfucker.

you looked away, this boy was making you so demented. you wished you were corrosive and could just touch him and destroy his entire existence in the moment.

and that's when it hit you. your touch... could destroy him. hell, it could probably make him dumb, to say the very least. you looked back to see taehyun, sitting there, staring at you with big big eyes, looking like he's going to swallow you whole.

"what?" you tore the silence apart, taehyun fluttering his eyelashes as he eyed you. the boy is still checking you out. "have some goddamn decency."

"I can't." he said, leaning in, leaning in close so close you wanted to flick his forehead and slap him across the face. he's always been like this for you since the day you put him in his place. he's been like a damn dog, like he wanted to be walked around by you since that day.

"then learn how to!"

"teach me, noona."

and so you did. so you did. and he's going to learn. he's going to learn to never annoy you again.

"noona—"

his eyes widened when your hand went straight for his crotch. fuck. you placed your hand on his cock, in the corner of the auditorium, after school hours.

"shut up. this is what you wanted, didn't you? you're filthy." and he, an exuberant kitten had turned into a lethargic dog. a dumb dog. "you're welcome for this. you're welcome."

"you— you-. what are you even thinking?" he asked, eyes wide as he leaned back, growing motionless. well, one thing was definitely in motion.

"shut the fuck up." you rubbed the tent in his pants as it eventually grew — still no consent of his, but his expression and activities history doesn't seem to be convincing you that he'll say no. you grabbed his face, making him look at you after his eyes had set down onto your hand on his dick. "tell me, taehyun. do you think from your dick or something?"

"y-you can't ask a question like— that.. h-hah." he groaned, a pretend exasperated tone when he was clearly enjoying this. he looked... desperate. it was scaring and making you want to fuck him at the same time. "please, noona."

"please what? use your words, bitch." you said, finger twirling the zipper of jeans, or more like a synonym for a cock cage.

"what're you gonna do?" he asked, eyes shooting around the hall as his knees buckled up, trying to squirm your hand away. this felt so emasculating to him — that you just basically palmed his dick from above the denim.

you were everything he wasn't — smart, perfect and untainted. but you were everything he wanted.

"maybe suck your dick," you said and the statement was definitely sent as an electric signal to his dick and his brain. "give you a reason to go around saying absolute bullshit, hm?" and he closed his eyes shut. his head fell back on the back rest as you unzipped his jeans, letting out a sadistic chuckle. "aw, is the delusion wearing off?" placing a hand under his chin and tilting his head to your side. oh lord, he was blushing. his ears were heating up and his cheeks went pink. "n-not bullshit.. not—"

"shut up." you attempted at a slap but only smacked his jaw, making his head turn away. lightly squeezed to his dick through the Calvin Klein and he whimpered. rubbing the tip with your nails.

if someone asked you if your panties were dry you'd have to deny it. his condition only got more tortured and jittery, you were chuckling like watching a stand-up comedy. you got up from the seat, kneeling in front of him. "h-hah, noona. shit— pl-please."

a malevolent expression, you took his dick out, cockhead lathered in precum — manwhore !

"you like this?" you asked, placing your hand in front of his mouth. "spit, whore." and he did, so fast like he was already preparing to, preparing to be sucked and jerked off.

"mmm, noona, i— h-hah." taehyun scrunched his knees together when your hand twisted at the tip, going down on his dick and his eyes shot open. "i l-love- this."

"of course you do, slut." you mumbled, licking the underpart of his tip, looking up at him as his hands reached to the back of your head to push you down on it unprovoked. he has the audacity to try to fuck your mouth. but no, you slapped his hand away. "behind your back."

he arched his back in sole pleasure, hands behind him now, he let out short, rapid pants. you opened your mouth wide, making him assume you'll finally take his dick, only to start pumping his dick rapidly.

"shit— shit, shit. noona no—"

"take it." you cut him off, using both hands, twisting. your lips set on the edge of his tip, rubbing against it. his brain was vacuous; and it got worse when you held the base of his dick and swallowed him whole.

"oh fuck, oh fuck fuck fuck." he whispered as you glide your hand up his hoodie, staying at his abs making him suck his stomach in. shook your head, the friction too much for him to bear. "noona, noona please."

pulling away, strings of saliva connecting you to his dick as his head flung back, closing his eyes shut when your nails slid up and down.

"keep it down, my god. the president might just hear you, would you want to be seen getting your cock sucked by me?"

his nails of each hand were digging into each other, his jaw clenching. "it— it'll make for a good s-sight."

"'m so close, pleasepleaseplease." he groaned as you completely stopped even the slightest of fuckery he was receiving from his imaginative slut. "no!"

you giggled at the sight — brain-dead taehyun, with his hands behind his back that were desperate to come forward and get him to cum, his embarrassing, dumbfounded state. a slap to his dick and he thrust into the air.

he could fuck any object that moves right now.

"you just love having your cock shoved down throats, don't you?"

hollowing your cheeks around him, the pleasure too much for him to bear. his hands escaped from behind and almost reached for your head but stopped mid-way, balling into a fist as his brain began jarring.

"noona please please please I'm gonna—" and before he could even warn you, prevent your annoyance and the malice you might have, he spilled into your mouth. and to his surprise, you kept his tip in your mouth, tasting him.

"noona?"

a pretend swallow that made his brain cloudy, did you just swallow his cum?

you got up, his eyes tracking up as you leaned down and pulled him by the collar of his hoodie, clashing your lips onto his and his mind skipped a function or two. you seeped his cum into his mouth, wiping your hands on his chest and he did not give the reaction you expected, the reaction you wanted him to give you — instead, to your surprise, he kissed back, his hand slipping up to catch yours. he didn't expect this at all but the whore didn't give a fuck. you pulled away, displeased that he wasn't mad you just made him eat his own cum.

"you ain't my boyfriend." you hissed, picking your backpack up.

and he was all gone to hell, no place for him in heaven, staring at the high ceiling, panting, beatific.

are they dating? no. do they both have mutual thoughts of fucking? absolutely.

I wrote this in like one hour forgive me

[p0rk-guts]

HUSKER!!!! Husk. Whatever. THIS OLD CAT!!!! ^ - ^

comparison + breakdown ⬇️

Look idk what possible lore reasons there could be for Husk having bird wings and tail feathers whether it's hidden somewhere online or to be determined later in the show even though I can't for the life of me even guess why they're there (if you've got any hc's tho I'd love to hear em) but I just got rid of em entirely, at least for the time being. Declutters him a little. They're definitely a little much.

And I've always hated those buttons on his chest fur... Are they part of his pattern.... Are they hot glued on...... What is it with Viv and melting clothing and flesh together.........

He also does NOT look 60-70 like at all (pretty sure that's canon but I just got it off the wiki) so I tried to remedy that by giving him more wrinkles and creases. He's a Persian cat thing now bc some of them really do be lookin like mustache wearing old guys fr. Also his neck fluff is sorta supposed to allude to facial hair w/ some greying sprinkled in! He's officially like... 62 now. + He's fatter bc 1) beer belly 2) Persian cat build and 3) Vivzie twink fatigue

Husk's outfit is objectively silly for his grown ass to be wearing but I like the hc I've seen around as that being a stipulation in his deal with Alastor where he figuratively and literally "took the shirt off his back". Considering how as an overlord he had a nice suit and he (possibly. Definitely In headcanons) doesn't even like showing off sinner features, or his body at all, especially not in such a way. Is this canonically the case? Probably not. But hey 🤷🏾‍♀️

I made some comparatively minimal changes there. I undid his tie bc man's usually drunk and doesn't have the energy to fuss with it. I also gave the ends a bit of a spade shape. The clasps on his suspenders are meant to be clovers and there are still hearts on his hands. For the diamond face... I kinda tried to put it into his tail? But that's kinda iffy so 3.5/4 card faces achieved 👍🏾

Turned his top hat into a more flat wide brim hat that i could NOT for the life of me find a name for... Just wider fedoras I think? but they seemed to be kinda popular at the time. For my Husk, as an overlord he occasionally wore a fancy top hat when he was showing off, and now this is like. His downgrade replacement he's got to wear. + Some playing cards tucked into the hat band!

Made those yellows his primary colors bc in my rewrite greed is gold and I definitely think that would've been one of his major sins in life. Also a bit of gluttony too, which I made orange, so I added some of those tones in there. Allsoo after fussing with the colors for literal days I stilllll kindahateemalittle BUT IT'S FINE. I'll figure it out

And that's all for him!! Realized I forgot to put the little anti Viv banner on my last post but then again idgaf fr it's whatever. If you don't know I hate her you'll learn before long

And, of course, dvelopment sketches 4 sticking around!!!!

Ok that's all bye ✌🏾🧍🏾‍♀️

[character-fan19]

So I calculated the exact screen time of all the love square ships in season 1

Yeah, it's exactly what it says. With 99% accuracy I went through all the episodes of season 1, calculated the exact screen time of ever love square ship in every episode, added them all up and made charts to compare them.

But first of all, where did I get the idea to do this? Well, I was looking through Tumblr and I so a post by someone called purrincess-chat answering an ask about Adrienette in Season 5 and in her reply she mentioned how Ladynoir and Adrien have around the same screen time in seasons 1-4 with Ladynoir having slightly more and that is simply reversed in season 5 with some Maricat and Ladrien sprinkled here and there. So that made me wonder: how much really is the distribution of screen time between the love square ships? So I did this, starting with season 1. But before we get into the results...

Some Ground Rules

What does and doesn't count as screen time for a particular ship? Here are the rules I laid out:

Both characters of the ship must be present in the scene for it to count. That's means no scenes of Marinette fawning over ads and pictures of Adrien or Adrien swooning over the fact that the love letter he found in "Dark Cupid" might be from Ladybug.

At least one of characters of the ship must be reacting to the presence of the other character for it to count or at least doing something together. We can't have Maribug and Adricat both just doing their own separate thing acting like background characters and call that shipping content.

If one or both of the characters believe that there are speaking with the alter ego of the other character, then it counts as screen time for that ship. Meaning when Ladybug goes to check on Adrien in "Volpina" and Cat Noir pretends to be his civilian self taking a shower, it counts as Ladrien screen time, not Ladynoir.

Now that that's dealt with let's get into the distribution.

Screen Time Distribution

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Ladynoir dominated season 1, having 76% of the total love square screen time. Makes sense, right? There's an akuma every episode so there's Ladynoir ever episode and since this is season 1, it's more focused on the strict formula rather than some actual development between the other ships.

Coming in a definitely-not-close second is Adrienette with 18.5% of the total love square screen time. No surprises here. Adrienette along with Ladynoir are the main 2 ships while Maricat and Ladrien are simply the side ships. Plus, it's not often for just one of them to be transformed.

Speaking of which, Maricat and Ladrien come in 3rd and 4th with 3% and 2.5% of the total love square screen time respectively and pretty close to each other, Maricat having a slight edge over Ladrien.

Now let's see the trend across the episodes.

Screen Time Trend

For the most part, Ladynoir is on a completely different level than the other ships, only temporarily being dethroned for one episode- that episode being "Gamer"- by Adrienette which was the episode they both practiced for the Ultimate Mecha Strike Tournament and we got some Adrienette bonding with Marinette giving Adrien her lucky charm bracelet. Other than that, it's been on top the whole time, with there even being episodes with solely Ladynoir screen time and having an average of 4 min 22 sec of screen time per episode, with most screen time being in "Animan" (8 min 28 sec) and least being in "Pixelator" (1 min 3 sec) a.k.a the episode where Adrien was stuck in the titular villain's prison dimension for most of the episode. It mellowed down a little towards the end of the season due to there being more plot relevant stuff in those episodes than akuma battle but picked itself right back up for the finale.

Adrienette stayed fairly low in screen time and having screen time in most episodes having a huge spike in the episodes "Kung Food" to "Animan", even temporarily dethroning Ladynoir like I mentioned before with 6 min 28 sec of screen time.

Finally, Maricat and Ladrien had a few small to moderate spikes here and there with some even being two episodes in a row and Ladrien having most of it's screen time towards the end of season 1.

Conclusion

Yeah, so that's it. I'm going to be doing these after I complete every season so keep a look out.

[soleurs]

▎    BAD IDEA, RIGHT?

concept yeah.. maybe, not really ・ gender netural reader + word count 494 genre fluff .. established relationship warnings mentions of : cuddling .. suggestive thoughts .. kissing — cred. to byhees for the cute layout

napping with roronoa zoro is a bad idea. in fact, it’s the worst scenario to end up in.

with sturdy arms that have been bronzed by years of honing his undeniable talent, he’ll weave one around your waist. as for the other? well, that’s probably fallen asleep too after hours of resting beneath your head.

(like arm, like owner—you humorously suppose.)

initially, you’ll whittle down time by staring at your dozing swordsman. out of all the looks you’ve witnessed him sporting in the past and present, you’ll definitely be confident in claiming tranquility’s his best. but as much as you want to continue staring at the living art, streaks of marigold and azure are beginning to blend beyond the broad horizon.

and here is where the catch begins.

silly you will think that escaping his grasp will be easy. after all, he sleeps like a log being carried by the ocean’s little waves. all you need to do is squirm a little, perhaps sprinkle a few kisses upon his calloused palms to warm him up a little. oh look at that, zoro’s eased his hold.

now that you’re on your feet, it’s best you go—

“come back to bed.”

the rich, raspiness of his voice echoes in your ear, accompanied by his gentle tug that puts you back where you began: wrapped up in his embrace. what a shame, you had managed to walk a few more centimeters away this time. (your previous record stood so weakly at eleven centimeters.)

“clover, we need to get up..” you try to convince him, but how can you do that when he’s tracing kisses across the crook of your neck? “..then they’re gonna make assumptions, and that’s a whole other mess i can’t handle on an empty stomach.”

this is where your suspicion arises.

there’s no more warm breath fanning across the spanse of your skin, or even a non-committal hum that merely ripples from the top of his chest. in fact, you can’t even hear the little snores he tends to make in between the steady thrums of his heartbeat.

you just never seem to learn, which is why it’s so easy for zoro to move you until you’re facing each other. (an impressive feat that’s taken at least five times to perfect; you fondly call it the hammroll. and while he calls it silly, he secretly likes the name of this special move. makes it feel like it belongs to only you and him.) the warmth you were looking for earlier? it’s right there, skimming your face as he leans in to kiss you. 

but he won’t be satisfied with just one. no, before he dives in for another, he’ll make sure you hear him whisper, “let them guess. i’ll still have you with me afterwards.”

it's not such a bad idea, right?

daylight I'M ALIVE !!!!! is what i wanna say but my mental health's been going loop-de-loop so cue the awkward laughter- to the anon who requested this, thank you for taking a chance on me ♡ 

[gotham-daydreams]

Is it possible that one of the villains of Gotham to develop an obsession with the reader like batfam? Like for example one of them once attended or attempted to attack at one of their performance but got mesmerized by them and decided to stalk them instead

I am now very much thinking about and considering this anon. Thanks for the new idea, I'll be thinking about all day 🙄 (okay, first, /pos, but really- this can easily change up a few more things and add some more conflict. I love it!!! Though maybe I'll make it a sub-series if I actually write it, since the "Not [ ]" is mostly focused on the Batfam, so kind of like an alternate universe type deal? I'm willing to know anyone's thoughts and suggestions on this.)

That can definitely happen, and it makes a lot of sense too when you really think about it (at least the part leading up to where the villian runs into the reader and encounters their music), especially when the reader is not only a well known musician- but known to be the kid of Bruce Wayne.

Even if no one really knows the identity of Batman, everyone and their dog knows Bruce Wayne. You'd have to do more than just live under a rock to not know that guy — especially in Gotham.

Just that fact alone — the reader being another kid adopted by Bruce Wayne — is definitely going to paint a target on their back, especially when they're in a big industry like music. The "well-known" part is just the sprinkles on top of the "you're fucked" cake. Even if I have said before that the reader isn't well-known to the point where they'd be considered super famous or popular, but enough to where people can still recognize them on the street and just kind of say "hey, isn't that the musician who played ( ) the other night? i heard they're pretty good, y'know."

Basically, someone trying to attack them for whatever reason, or even trying to kidnap them, is very possible and highly likely.

I can't say who in particular I think the villian would be? Only because I'm not sure myself, with how flexible the situation is.

The villian could be going to one of the reader's performances simply because there are a lot of other people attending, and if they want to make a grand performance of their own, or have a grand opening to a game, one of the reader's performances seem like the easiest way to do just that. So they settle in a little, waiting for everything to be just right... then they see the reader and whatever instrument they'll be playing, as they and the other performers wait for everyone to get in and settle down.

Maybe the villian hardly notices it at first, or it immediately catches their attention. Maybe they just roll their eyes and scoff or just become curious in some way. Maybe what makes them hate it/curious about it at first is the reader themself. The villian thinks the reader is just another rich kid trying to show off their 'talent'... or notices that the reader is from the Wayne family and that catches their attention, maybe.

Or, alternatively they try to assassinate or kidnap the reader. Maybe just rob them too while they're at it.

It doesn't matter how they get in- what does matter is that they don't know much about the reader besides that they're a musician of some kind and the kid of Bruce Wayne, and maybe for whatever mission they're doing- that's all they need to know. Or all they feel they need to know, as maybe they catch the reader in the middle of a performance no matter how they try to go about their mission — either planning to take the reader out from the backstage, drop them from beneath the floor boards, or snipe them from up top — and the villian hesitates as they really listen to the reader play once their focused is centered on them.

Regardless of how it starts, once it does- they're captived, near mesmerized by what they hear.

Before the villian even knows it, they're watching the entire performance. Any compliments they have towards the reader's music turn to the reader themself, and by the end of the night... the villian is caught in a trap of their own making.

If they were looking into the reader before, that research only delves deeper as they try to figure out each and every little thing about the reader. If they weren't really looking at information about the reader before, they definitely are now.

A simple 'interest' turns into a whole obsession, and now, as you've mentioned, are stalking the reader.

Maybe the villian even dedicates certain atrocities they do in the reader's name, maybe they attend and try to ruin the reader's performances because they believe they should be the only one to hear the reader's music, or just want to be all that much closer to them.

Maybe the villian tries to kidnap the reader, but just so that they can hold them close, or have them play all the tunes they wish to hear from the reader for the rest of eternity... however long that lasts. Who knows?

Tldr: It is very possible, and if anything, more likely than you think!

I hope this answered your question! If you or anyone else has another question, feel free to send in an ask! I'll try to answer them when I can!

[suzukiblu]

Day fifteen of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon grins wider, then holds his cup out to him. Specifically, he tilts it so Tim can take a sip instead of just giving it to him. 

Bastard. Bastard-coated bastard with bastard-flavored nougat-y filling and a bastardly ganache coating and bastard sprinkles on top. 

Bastard. 

Tim thinks several more accusing things, then leans over and tries the smoothie. It does taste pretty good, though it’s a little too sweet for him to want to drink the whole cup. Blackberry is definitely more his thing. 

“Not bad,” he says anyway, because it’s not and also goddammit, Kon is still grinning at him. Because again: bastard. Absolute full and complete and entire bastard. 

“Yeah, for the East Coast, at least,” Kon replies with an easy shrug, reclaiming his cup for another sip. Tim does not think about indirect kissing or anything that ridiculously juvenile and middle-school. Not at all. Not even slightly, in fact. “I dunno, the whole thing just reminds me, um . . . like, I didn’t really do the whole ‘childhood’ thing, obviously, but you know that thing where people talk about extra-liking stuff they used to eat when they were kids? Tropical flavors kinda make me feel like that. Comfort food or whatever. I mean, it’s not Loco Moco or musubi, obviously, but . . .” 

Tim blinks, makes a few mental notes, and wonders if there’s a single actually authentic Hawaiian restaurant in Gotham. Maybe? There’s got to be at least a decent food truck or two around, if nothing else. There’s always a food truck. 

He could probably bribe one to come into the city for a day or two, if it comes to it. 

“That makes sense,” he says, since technically Kon’s childhood pretty much was in Hawaii. He refuses to count the stupid fucking cloning tube, because counting the stupid fucking cloning tube is literally too depressing a thought to even contemplate. Fuck the stupid fucking cloning tube. Fuck it sideways. 

Maybe Tim can just bribe a Hawaiian food truck to set up in Kon’s future cul-de-sac once a week or something, once he's conned him into moving into it. Just include it in their usual schedule or something, he doesn’t know. Or at least drop off a regular lunch order for him, maybe. 

Whatever, he’ll work something out. He’s going to be working a lot of things out, at this point; hooking Kon up with a regular supply of his childhood comfort foods is not even an imposition. He doesn’t even know what either Loco Moco or musubi is, but he’ll put them on the list and do his damn research. He'll go to Hawaii and hire a personal chef straight from the source if he has to, at this point. 

“Can I try yours?” Kon asks, grin going sly again. Tim’s head immediately empties out all over again, and he mutely holds his cup out. Kon’s grin widens. 

He leans in and ducks his head and Tim has to deal with how long his eyelashes are and just how pretty his stupid face is and, worse, how pretty his stupid mouth is. 

Fuck’s sake, this is just not fair at all. He knows Kon’s a flirt, obviously, but does he have to actually be good at it? Because Tim is not used to him being good at it, actually! Usually he’s being overbearing and too-eager and weird about it, in fact! 

Tim has the unfortunate thought that maybe Kon always flirts like this and he’s just not seeing it as overbearing or too-eager or weird because it’s focused on him for once, then immediately dismisses said thought as a thought he absolutely cannot allow himself to ever have again. Just–ever. Not for anything. 

Jesus, what is his fucking life right now? 

Kon leans back; licks his lips. Tim dies, kind of. Like, just a little bit. 

Alright, maybe more than a little bit. 

“I like it,” Kon says, grinning at him. Tim tries not to think about how intimately he now knows how Kon’s mouth would taste right now, sharply sweet-sour with blackberry and tropical fruit and all warm and soft and wet and–never mind.

“Want a pretzel too?” he offers in a hopefully normal voice, tipping his head towards the stand. 

“Sure,” Kon says, glancing towards it. “Sounds good, man.” 

“Cool,” Tim says, incredibly awkwardly, and they head over. He orders a regular pretzel because he doesn't know Caroline Hill's pretzel order anymore than he knows her smoothie order, but “regular” isn't going to be interesting enough for Kon to make a note of either way. Possibly he should just be ordering things Tim Drake would, but the flaw in that plan is that Tim Drake isn't thinking very clearly right now and it is currently much, much easier to be in mission-mode than anything else. 

Kon orders a cinnamon-sugar pretzel. Tim wishes the bastard would stop eating things that taste good, but also recognizes that it’s his fault that the bastard's been eating things that taste good. He’s literally the one both suggesting and buying said things for him. 

So Kon’s mouth is about to taste like cinnamon sugar right now because of Tim, which is actually making the fact that Kon’s mouth is about to taste like cinnamon sugar right now infinitely worse. 

Tim pays. They get the pretzels. Kon immediately tears off a bite of his and Tim wishes he had a cover identity that didn't like cinnamon, or at least was allergic to it or diabetic or gluten-intolerant or something. He could use a cover identity like that to fall back on right now. 

“Wanna bite?” Kon offers. 

“I'm good,” Tim says, because he will literally die if he takes him up on that offer right now. Or possibly go criminally insane like fifteen years ahead of schedule, which would be its own problem. He doesn't have enough kryptonite for that yet. “You like it?” 

He doesn’t know why he asked that. Apparently he’s just a glutton for punishment. 

“Yeah,” Kon says, licking sugar off his lips. “It’s good.” 

“Good,” Tim says, then desperately flails for a subject that doesn’t involve the way anything currently in Kon’s mouth tastes. “Do you have a personal phone or just a work one?” 

“Just work, technically. And then, like, I get issued communicators when I need them,” Kon replies, looking puzzled. “Why?” 

Because Cadmus could very easily track and tap and block whatever numbers they wanted on that, Tim doesn’t say. 

“I’m trying to get your number and I don’t want to call you on your work phone,” he says. “That seems weird.” 

“You a little on the shy side, pretty boy?” Kon asks teasingly, flashing him a smirk. Tim does not examine anything about that statement or his own feelings about it. He also does not think about what Kon’s mouth tastes like, though Kon makes that incredibly difficult by immediately taking another bite of pretzel. 

Has Tim mentioned what a bastard he is yet? Because he is a bastard.

“I’m buying you a phone,” he says, deciding if he just acts like it’s a foregone conclusion and some small little thing, Kon’s likelier to not reject the offer. “I cannot mentally deal with the idea of your boss seeing what I text you about on some random weekly report.” 

“You can’t, huh,” Kon says, biting his lip around a grin and shifting in a little bit closer. “Why, Tim? What are you gonna text me about?” 

Tim realizes how that might’ve sounded much too late, but by then it’s too late to rephrase or backtrack, so fuck it: time to commit. 

“Depends on what you text back, I guess,” he says. Kon laughs, then grins at him again. His face is a little red again too. Tim is resigned to having to survive the experience. 

“Well, I guess you’d have my number if you got me a phone, huh,” Kon says. 

“I would, yes,” Tim says. He’s going to have to resist asking Kon to turn on “find my phone”, probably. Or adding any trackers or bugs to it. It’s the Bat instinct, but it’d probably creep Kon out if he caught a “civilian” doing anything like that. And also definitely concern him, what with the “supervillain creep” concerns he was already having. And Tim would have a really hard time paying for Kon’s entire life if Kon decided he was a supervillain before he’s even become a supervillain, so he’d prefer to avoid that outcome. 

He guesses Caroline Hill could give it a shot if Tim Drake can’t pull it off, though. She’d still probably have better chances than him anyway, given Kon’s usual taste in people. 

They eat their pretzels on the way to the electronics store and Tim tries to plot how to convince Kon to let him get him the best possible phone but is incredibly, incredibly distracted by watching him lick cinnamon sugar off his fingers. Tim actually hasn’t seen Kon with his gloves off too many times, come to think of it. Or possibly, like . . . ever. Like, he might’ve actually never seen him with his gloves off before. 

Alright, well, that’s a thing that he hadn’t yet realized and is now going to be completely normal about. 

Definitely normal. Very, very normal. So normal. 

They toss out their empty pretzel wrappers outside the store and Kon licks a little more sugar off the pad of his thumb. Tim wonders if he has any callouses. Probably not, considering the TTK, but who knows. Maybe he trains with it down? Or maybe TTK just doesn’t protect his skin quite that thoroughly. Tim’s never actually seen him get cut or scratched or even bruised, though, so . . . maybe? 

He really has no idea, at this point. 

He supposes he could ask. Tim Drake’s already said he knew about tactile telekinesis and that he did some research, so . . . 

“Does TTK protect you from callouses?” he asks, gesturing at Kon’s hands with his smoothie and a little too curious to repress the question. Kon tilts his head and smirks at him again. 

“You tell me,” he says, then casually reaches over and catches Tim’s free hand in his own. 

Tim had thoughts in his head at some point today, he’s pretty sure, but hell if he knows what any of them were.

[fancyfeathers]

Can I request a yandere Ranpo with a fem darling that works at her family's bakery and they decorative a cake or smth? (It's a date)

I see them meeting each other when the ada was still relatively new. The bakery was like a 5 min walk away. They just happened to get closer over time. For example (darling wanted him to try new items cuz she knew he was gonna be honest with her)

May it also be on the more fluffier side of things?

Make sure to take care of yourself bestie (◔‿◔)

Sugarcoated

(Yandere Ranpo X reader)

“Oh (Name)! Hello?” From your spot in the kitchen you hear the front door of the shop open and close. It was past closing so that meant it was only one person, Ranpo. 

“In the back!” You shouted back as you made your way to the fridge to pick up the sheets of cake you had made earlier for tonight. Just as you set them on the counter you felt two arms wrap around you from behind. You giggled as you felt the detective burry his face in your neck, right where your neck and jawbone meet and planted little kisses all over it. “Hey! Knock that off, it tickles!” 

After a few more he finally stopped, giving you a chance to spin around and give him a peck on the cheek. Ah yes, Ranpo, the detective you hand been dating for the last year or so. You met on his practically daily visits to the bakery either before work, for lunch, or after, sometimes if may be two or more. He definitely wasn’t the most humble to say the least, often bragging about his ability (which you questioned if he even had) but he was always sweet to you. Which leads you to your current situation, spending your one year anniversary in your family’s bakery. Your parents had let you close up early and by yourself so you and Ranpo could have the place to yourselves.

You had planned this, with a few suggestions from him, cake decorating. This in reality was mostly your frosting the cake while he put sprinkles or whatever else on top along with eating the leftover frosting with a spoon while you leaned up a bit. So now while you’re sitting in relative silence, his head resting on your shoulder in the break room of the bakery, waiting for the now decorated cake to chill in the fridge while you scrolled the news, you saw something that caught your eye. “Hey Ranpo, you should see this.”

You passed him the phone that was pulled up to a news reporter of a mysterious bomb threat to be at a local park not to far from here or the agency. With everything that was happening in Yokohama lately it felt dangerous to even step outside, but ag least to some extent you felt safe with Ranpo. You watched as he read the article. With not a word he turned the phone off and set it on the table, you both sat in silence for a long moment before he spoke up, his voice not the happy home it usually is around you. “I want you to move in with me, (Name).”

“What?” This felt so sudden and almost off topic, it took you by surprise. “Why are you asking me this now? I just showed up you that story-”

“That’s exactly why.” He cut you off, sliding one of his hands down to hold one of your own. “It’s becoming more dangerous everyday, I want to make sure you’re somewhere safe even when I’m not here. Please, (Name).”

“I’ll think about it, I mean this just feels so sudden.” You said, slightly unsure of your boyfriend’s suggestion.

“Please, for me?”

“Well… I’m-“ before you could finish responding Ranpo’s phone rang. You let him answer and you could vaguely hear his coworker’s voice on the line, Kunikida you think. You could make out to words bomb, threat, and park. You guessed this was about the article you had shown him. When ypthe ended you smiled and changed the topic, hoping he wouldn’t change it back after that. “Seems like Detective Ranpo is on the case, hm?”

“Right you are, love!” He said with a wide smile, seemingly coming out of nowhere, but that’s just Ranpo. He stood up and bent over to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll be back soon, don’t eat the cake without me.”

You watched as he put his hat back on and made his way towards the door, stopping before it opened. “Hey, (Name)?”

“Hm?”

“Everything I'm doing is to keep you safe, please know that.” He said glancing over at you. “Just think about it, moving in with me.”

Before you could respond you saw him leave, the door clicking shut behind him and you heard the sound of the main door being opened and closed with the sound of the bell. You fingers unconsciously reached up to your lips, still sugary sweet from Ranpo’s kisses, sugarcoated like the words he told to keep you near him…

…just as overly sweet…

.

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 7 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: I am having a bad day and what I wouldn't get to have these two take care of me right now.

Warning: Dom Steddie/ Plus Size Sub reader and all that that implies! (I regret nothing!) , Jealous Steddie as well, Degrading, slapping, first time use of titles (we'll be seeing more of that from here on in), Billy being a dick to Steve. I think that's all. Smut, a dash of fluff, with a sprinkle of angst.

Word Count: 4055

This past summer was more than perfect. Spending two months in New York was the break you desperately needed from Hawkins and all the stress that came with it. You did miss Eddie and Steve but it was nice to be away from them for a while to clear your mind. You called them a couple of times but it was hard to be on the phone for long in house full of people. 

When you got back home, you were ready to start your senior year. You had bought a whole new wardrobe, wanting to show people like Tommy and Carol you weren’t the same meek, scared girl anymore. 

“Holy shit. Is that my sexy best friend?”, Masie grinned as she picked you up from your house on the first day. “You look so good.”

“Thank you.” You flashed her your silky, red tank top under Eddie’s leather jacket. The blue jean shorts showed off your legs and the cute black, velvet boots made you feel extremely powerful. 

“I missed you so much.” You smile as she leans over to give you hug. 

The school was full of electricity with student’s hugging each other and comparing class schedules. You couldn’t help but giggle when some of the boys did a double take as you walked by. 

“Hm. I guess you’re going to be popular this year.” She smiles as she links her arm into yours. “Eddie Munson definitely has some competition.”

“Oh my god, Maze. Let it go!”, you sigh, rolling your eyes as you point to a room across from you both. “This is my first class.”

“Alright. I’ll see you at lunch later, okay?”

“Ah, Miss Y/N. I saw you were in my class this year. Hopefully you’ll behave, yeah?” Mr. C smiled with you nodded. “Good. I gave Steve the same warning. Now I’m just waiting for—”

Eddie skids into the classroom with his hands high into the air. “Mr. C! My favorite teacher!”

“Mhmm. Mr. Munson, please, for my old heart can you keep it together for me this year?”

“No promises.” Red paints your face as the metalhead’s eyes finally land on you, drinking you in. “But who knows. Obviously, people can surprise you. Hey sweetheart.”

“Ay yi yi. Ok, none of that. Both of you take a seat.”

As you turn, your eyes meet Steve’s as he lets out a shaky breath and flashes you a tender smile. Unfortunately, there weren’t three seats together so you were a bit farther from them than you would have preferred but at least you had one class together. 

You hadn’t realized how much you actually missed them until they were in front of you again. Eddie still looked the same with his torn up blue jeans and heavy metal shirt blanketed under the smell of cigarette smoke. Steve had grown his hair out a bit more and seemed like he got some sun this summer. Currently, they were radiating that softness that you enjoyed when they were taking care of you. 

That was short lived however when a new face entered the classroom. 

You’d be lying if you didn’t say you thought the boy that came in was incredibly attractive. His blue eyes penetrated your own as he sauntered over and stopped at the seat in front of yours. 

“Hey, man. Do you mind finding another desk?”, he asked the boy sitting in the desk. When he didn’t immediately stand, his beautiful eyes clouded over with intensity. “Move. Now.”

The kid promptly collected his things and quickly shuffled away as the man grinned, turning to you as he extended his hand. “I’m Billy Hargrove. What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“I’m, uh, I’m Y/N.”

Billy smirked as you stuttered out your answer. There was something intimating about the man in front of you that scared you slightly but not in the same way Eddie and Steve had. The boys originally frightened you because of the way they made you feel. Billy, on the other hand, had this air about him that practically screamed he liked things his way whether you liked it or not. You imagined he knew how to satisfy a woman but with that extra sense of arrogance he wasn’t going to stay with one for long. 

As you scanned the room again, you found both Eddie and Steve glaring at him with immense anger. Shit. This may be a long year.

#########

The rest of the day went by much too slowly for your liking. You found out you did have one more class each with the guys and you three still shared a lunch period. As the day went on though they started to feel more distant as they huffed at the people around you who gawked as you walked by. 

After your basketball practice as you and the team started to head in to get showered and leave for the day, you passed the guys team having their own practice.

As you entered the gym, you noticed Eddie leaning against the risers with his arms folded as he watched the display in front of him. Billy was in front of Steve bouncing the basketball mockingly in front of him as he cockily grinned in his direction. 

“What’s going on?”

Eddie glanced at you before turning back to the court. 

“Seems your new boyfriend is trying to take Steve’s place on the team.”

“Really? My boyfriend.”, you sighed as you rolled your eyes.

“Roll your eyes like that again, Y/N. I dare you.” His eyes never leave the game as he speaks. “Seems this summer made you believe things are different. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but they aren’t. We still own you.”

“What makes you angrier, Eddie? The fact he sat in front of me or the fact that he showed more control by moving someone to sit with me? Makes you wonder else he’d do to be near me.”

As if on cue, Billy shoulder checks Steve knocking him to the ground as he runs around him to make a basket. The teams claps as he grins before he notices you watching, giving a subtle wink before focusing on the game again. 

“Hm. I can’t wait to tell Steve you said that. I’m very curious to see what he thinks.”

With that you turn and head for the locker room as nerves fill your stomach. You’re going to regret saying that but you weren’t sure how or where it would come from. 

############

They practically ignored you for the rest of the week which made you both furious and heartbroken. You spent all summer missing them even falling asleep in Steve’s sweatshirt or Eddie’s jacket just to have them close in some way. Why weren’t they as desperate to have you as you were to have them?

“Hey, pretty girl.” You head swiveled around to meet Billy’s cocky smile as he threw his shirt on the risers behind you while you were sitting in the gym during your free period. “Come to watch me play?” Steve passed you both, his eyes full of fire as he walked by. “Oh, I see. You have crush on ‘King’ Steve Harrington. Trust me, baby girl. He’s not worth your time.”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me things like that.”

“Ooo… do I have to earn it? I’m really good at that game.”

He chuckles as he runs out onto the court and the team begins practice. Billy is just as ruthless as he was the last time you watched them practice, him taunting Steve any chance he could but like the fighter he was Steve was always right back in front of him trying to take the ball. 

“Do you know she has a crush on you? Is that way you’re trying so hard, Harrington?” Billy shoves around him, knocking him down as he makes a basket. You get to your feet and run to help him up, but the other boy beats you reaching out his hand for him to take. “Oh, I get it. You like her to. This is going to be fun for me.” He chuckles as he pushes Steve back down to the floor. 

Your hand reaches for his and he aggressively smacks it out of the way, jumping to his feet and exiting the double doors to the outside the gym. Running after him, you find him pacing as he fumes. 

“Steve? Are you okay?”

When you extend your hand again, his palms grip either side of your face as he backs you against the brick wall, crashing his lips to yours. You mewled at the taste of him as you pulled his hips to yours. 

“You think he shows more control than we do? That he’d do anything to be with you?”

“Steve—”

He cut you off with his mouth on yours as he unbuttoned your jeans and slid his hand through the waistband of your panties. You moaned, gripping the back of his neck as his fingers breached your entrance. 

“You really did forget a lot while you were away. This pussy and your body belong to us. Only we can make you feel this good.” All you can do is nod as he steadily builds you up. “You think because you come home with this new look and attitude that you can do better than us?”

“No…no, Steve. I—mmm—I only want you two. I missed you both so much.” He curled his fingers inside of you practically lifting you on to your toes as you hand flew down to grab his wrist. “Steve, please.”

Your other hand tugged on his sweaty shirt as your head fell to his chest, your moans muffled as you came. You continued to pant as he removed his hand and buttoned your jeans back around your waist. “Don’t let him get under your skin.” Your tone was soft as you pressed your body to his. 

Steve sighed heavily before you felt his arms finally wrap around you. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“I don’t either. He calls me names you guys call me and it just feels weird.”

“Weird how?” His tone shifts back into authoritative as he pulls your head back to look at your face. “Does he make you uncomfortable? We can talk to him. I can knock him on his ass.”

“No, baby, no. Don’t worry about him. Just ignore him. I, um, I hope it’s ok but I got you guys something while I was gone. Can I come over after school and give them to you?”

“Yeah, of course.” You grin as he kisses your forehead before running back into the gym.

############

“Where are your parents?”

“Uh, my dad is in Europe…I think…and my mom went with him.”, Steve shrugs as Eddie lights a cigarette and leans back against one of the lawn chairs by the pool. 

“I hear you bought us things.”

Smiling, you reach into your bag and hand them each a box. Steve beams as he holds up a pair of sunglasses and places them over his eyes. 

“They’re like the ones Tom Cruise wears in that movie you like.”

“Risky Business. Yeah! How do I look? Do I look just like him?”

“Better.”, you giggle as you turn to Eddie, pausing when you notice his vacant expression as he stares at the gorgeous, gemstone Dungeons and Dragons dice in his hand. “Did I get the right kind? I don’t know much about D&D but the guy in the store said these were perfect for a… Dungeon Master? I think that’s what you said you were, right?”

“I did. Um, yeah, no, princess these are beautiful. No one’s ever got me a thoughtful gift like this before.” His arms wrap around you as he kisses your temple before pulling you down with him against the chair making you laugh. “Thank you.”

There’s a comfortable silence that follows as Eddie continues smoking with you laying on his chest between his legs, his hand occasionally rubbing your arm while Steve stares off into the distance still wearing the sunglasses.

Was this what they meant when they said they wanted to just be? You didn’t mind it, feeling like you could stay this way forever. The only problem was Steve was so far away…

“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?”

“Huh?”

“You just sighed. What’s running through your mind?”, Eddie asked with that syrupy sweet tone you dreamed about while you were away. 

“I’m just thinking about how far Steve is right now.”

“Hm. Kinda greedy today, huh? I heard Steve made you cum outside the gym, naughty girl.”

“But I haven’t seen you both in over two months. I missed you. D-Did you miss me?”

“Uh oh, Eds. She’s reverting back to that shy little girl again. It must be you, dude.”

“I’m not a little girl!”

“Hm. Sound like a little girl to me.”

You know what you’re doing and so do they, you three waiting for someone to make the next move. You decide it will be you, hoping they respond the way you want them to; NEED them to. 

“Well, fine then. If I’m such a little girl and you didn’t miss me, I guess I’ll go home.” Pushing Eddie’s arm out of the way you march back into Steve’s house and head for the front door. As you open it, a ringed hand cuts you off, and slams it shut.

“Where do you think you’re going, little girl?” He starts to slowly walk you backwards towards the living room. “You think you can talk to us like that and then just leave? I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Seems like she still needs a reminder of who’s in charge.”, Steve grins as he closes the back door and leans against it. 

“Is that what you need, little girl?”, Eddie taunts. 

“I’m NOT a little girl.”, you growl. 

He towers over you as his eyes stare you down. “Yes, you are. You’re a bratty…slutty…bad…little girl.” Between each word he gave you a small but forceful shove until you stumbled onto the couch. He sat beside you, his fingers pinching your cheeks as he turned your head to look at him. “Say it.”

When you shake your head, Eddie loosens his grip, running his thumb along your bottom lip. “Steve?” The other boy descends to the floor between your legs, unbuttoning your jeans, and tugs them off your body. 

Abruptly, a palm connects with your face eliciting a squeak from you. Your eyes meet the metalheads as he searches within them, gauging your reaction. When you don’t respond or protest, his fingers grip your cheeks again. 

“Do you remember what we talked about before you left? About us having titles and taking care of you?”

“And…in return I show you the…respect you deserve?”, you pant; completely turned on by his words and the slap he delivered you. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, that’s right.” He pauses when your breathing stutters as you feel Steve pull down your panties and toss them aside. “Is that something you want to try…with us? For example, I just hit you. Did…f-fuck… did you like it? Say yes or no and then follow it with Sir or Master.”

You moaned, feeling Steve’s breath hit your core as your legs opened wider for him. “Yes, S-sir. I liked you slapping me.” His tongue licked a stripe between your folds and you practically melted into the couch. 

“See? You’re a natural.” Eddie’s lips delicately traced your jawline down to your neck. That combined with Steve wrapping his mouth around your clit was having you seeing stars. 

“Wh-what should I—mmm—what should I call, Steve?”

“What feels right? I have a feeling when it comes to Stevie, there’s been something in the forefront of your mind. Just say it and see if he likes it.”

You lick your lips as your fingers tangle in his soft hair, pressing him further into your cunt. “Daddy…” 

They both groan as Steve’s tongue flicks faster against your nub. Eddie unbuttons his jeans and lifts his hips to push them and his boxers down his legs. His lips roughly find yours for a moment before clinging to your face again. 

“Say it. Say you’re a fucking little girl.” Your eyes start to flutter closed and he pulls his hand back to smack you again. “Harrington! Don’t let her cum until she says it.” 

“I’m…I’m a…” You struggle to find the words as you hurtle quickly towards the edge.

“If you cum before you say it, I’m going to use my belt to punish you again and I won’t be as nice as he was!”

“Fuck! I’m a little girl! Please…please!” Your thighs close around his head as you cum, lifting your hips off the couch. Steve’s fingers force your legs open as he continues licking you clean. 

When he sits up on his knees, you bring your lips to his, tasting yourself on his breath. You don’t see it but both men glance at each other as Eddie nods his approval. Steve lifts off his shirt as you reach down to unbuckle his belt and tug at his jeans. 

As he leans back to take them off, the metalhead’s fingers turn you to face him. “Now, be honest, we…we have to ask. Were you with anyone in New York?” His tone is gentle, not carrying any accusation within his words. 

“We just need to know if we need to use condoms.”, Steve follows as he runs his palms along your thighs. 

“No, I swear I wasn’t. Were…were you…with anyone?” Your eyes squeeze shut and a thankful sigh escapes your lips when they both shake their heads. 

Eddie lifts off your shirt and Steve leaned forward to passionately kiss your lips. Your eyes rolled back as he reached between you both to guide his cock into your entrance as his arms wrapped around your back. He clung to your body as thrust into you at a steady pace, his mouth and tongue attaching to your nipple making you whimper. 

“Say it again, baby girl. Mmm…call me that name again.”

“Daddy.”

“Fuck me…” His hips rolled into yours as you lifted your own off the couch to meet his pushing him deeper into you. Your head lulls to side to search for Eddie but he was still in the same place stroking his cock as he watched you. 

“Fuck, princess. I can’t wait to have you after him. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be feeling me for weeks.”

“God damn it.”, Steve grunted as your pussy clenched at Eddie’s promise. His head fell beside yours as he pumped into you faster. “Beg me, honey. Beg Daddy to make you cum.”

Your lips pressed against the shell of his ear as your fingers pulled at his hair. “Please, Daddy. Please make me cum. Mmm… fuck…I missed you so much. You feel so good inside me.”

His mouth sloppily kissed your own, swallowing your moans as you came. “That’s it. Fuck…such a good girl…” Steve’s voice trailed off as he pushed up on his hands and slammed his hip into you as released his seed deep inside of your cunt.

As soon as the other boy pulled out, Eddie was on you, wrapping his arm around your stomach as he tugged you back against the couch until you were laying on your side with him behind you. His fingers roughly gripped your thigh, holding your leg in the air as he slid his throbbing cock into your dripping hole. 

True to his word, he thrust into aggressively, bordering the line between pleasure and pain. His blown-out eyes met yours when your hand reached out to hold the one the that was dangling off the couch behind your head. 

“Steve’s right. Mmm…such a good…beautiful girl.” His lips kissed yours before your whimper vibrated against them as his fingers circled your clit. “Look at me, Y/N. Don’t…take your eyes off me.” Eddie’s mouth opened in a silent O as he watched you struggle to keep them open. “Does that feel good, baby?”

His fingers left your bundle of nerves as they flew to your face so he could pinch your cheeks. “I asked you a fucking question. You answer me, little girl. Does my cock feel good?”

“Yes—mmm—yes, Sir. Your cock…feels so fucking good.”

“Don’t you dare take those eyes off of me, ok?” He places his hand back between your legs as you moan. Eddie’s hips start to faulter as he watches you come undone, screaming his name as tumble over the edge. As your pussy clings to him, he drops your leg as he clings to hips, grunting as he cums inside you. 

You both pant as you try to catch your breath. A hand pets at your hair and you turn your head to see Steve’s soft eyes glancing over your face. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” When you respond your voice comes out hoarse giving him pause. 

“I’m going to grab a bottle of water.”

After you watch him leave, you turn back to see Eddie’s eyes are closed. Delicately treading the waters again, you lift your arm, placing it under his head and to your pleasant surprise he scoots closer to you, pulling your body to his. 

“Alright, honey. Drink some of this.” Steve places his hand behind you as he guides the bottle of liquid to your lips. “Atta girl. Eddie, do you want some?”

The metalhead declines with a cute nu uh sound that makes you giggle as you feel him smile against your skin. 

“Come on, Munson. We still have to clean her so she can go home.” Your eyes swivel around to find Steve as he tilts his head. “Don’t you? Your parents expect you home at a certain time.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to go home yet.”

“We don’t want you to go either, baby, but we don’t want you to get in trouble.” You sigh as Eddie releases you so you can both sit up. “Do you want to use my shower or…”

“I don’t think I can make it up the stairs.”

“I can carry you—”

“No…no, Steve. I’m ok.” You lean against Eddie’s shoulder as Steve heads back towards the kitchen to find a washcloth. “Eddie? Did I do good?”

He chuckles through his nose as he reaches down to hold your hand. “Princess, you were more than good. Did you…like it?”

You nod as the other boy reappears and sits beside you, gently opening your legs as he cleans between them. Steve stops when you hiss and bite you bottom lip. 

“Sore.”

“Y/N, um, we’ve been thinking a lot and talking over the summer…” Your eyes shoot open as you look at him, terrified of what he’s about to say next. “We still don’t know how to define this but we do want you to be comfortable.”

“You said you liked being used and degraded but we’ve never talked about anything that may be a step too far.”

“Well…what would be a step too far for you?” They both laugh at your question making you pout. 

“We asked you first, honey.”

“I-I don’t know how to answer that. I just know that I didn’t like what I had before with guys. So far, I’ve enjoyed everything. I’m open to trying anything with you two. I’m yours.”

“Fuck, you’re going to make me hard again.”, Steve sighs as he starts helping you get dressed. 

“Um, I have a question. Do I call you by your titles now? All the time?”

Eddie finishes sliding on his jeans before extending his hand to help you off the couch. “Do you want that?”

“I asked you first.”, you parrot back as you grin. 

“How about yes when it’s just the three of us?”

“I’m ok with that, Sir.”

“Jesus Christ.”, he mewls before leaning down to kiss your lips. 

“Still so fascinating.” Steve kisses you as well, taking your hand as he walks you both outside to your vehicles. “Can you call us when you get home?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

He smirks as he opens your car door for you. 

“Glad your back home, honey. We missed you to.”

#############

@manda-panda-monium @sherrylyn628 @local-stoner-bitch

@katethetank @danandphilequalsmemes @luna-munson83

@sidthedollface2 @mandyjo8719 @chelebelletx @shayeddie

@emmalee-01 @anaibis @wroteclassicaly

@fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @siriuslysmoking

@raptorbait529

[star-suh]

So since you write for Jackson wang

I have a silly request

How about writing like one of those old wattpad fanfics where you get invited to his private VIP party and he ends up having sex with you and falling in love with you

I’d absolutely love to see your take on one of those fics

Not Your Typical Party 

jackson wang x male reader

cw: top jackson, bttm m reader, friends to lovers trope, some fluff sprinkled, some angst sprinkled too (like crying, a bit and comforting), implied kinda drunk jackson during sex but he is conscious, passionate and rough sex at the same time, pet names, fingering, spit as lub, unprotected sex, mating press (kinda obsessed with it later teehee)

—

it was friday night and y/n was getting ready to go to THE jackson wang's party, it is well known that he loves to throw wild vip parties in the most luxurious places in the city, so for y/n it was like a goal accomplished being capable of assist to at least one of those. it happened during one of y/n's walks, he accidentally bumped into jackson, his old college friend/crush. "y/n?" says jackson "woah, i almost didn't recognize you without your glasses. how's your life going?" he asked. "hehe, nothing much" answered y/n "just working". "you should take a break, it will do good to you" recommended the man "i'm organizing a party this friday night, come enjoy all the night" he smiled at y/n making him a bit flustered "ah… ye-yeah" he stuttered. "here give me your number" says jackson passing to y/n his phone so he can type his number on it, "done" answered the flustered guy, "ok, see you later pal" he says while waving his hand "ah, put on those glasses you look cute with them" he yells while entering his car.

—

"well, let's go" said y/n nervously opening the doors, he thought that his feelings for jackson were gone but no… they're there. he was received by lots of colored neon lights, people drinking, dancing and swimming in the pool, there was a sexy shirtless dj accompanied by lots of girls and a boy sitting who was kinda sad, y/n felt bad for him and was gonna ask him what happened "oh there you are" yelled jackson y/n turned towards the voice meeting a jackson in a robe and long pants, he was shirtless showing his perfect abs "oh h-hey" stuttered y/n "like the view? you're stuttering" mocked and laughed jackson "come here take a drink" y/n did as he said "i'll come later" jackson waves a goodbye and left y/n in a table drinking.

minutes have passes and y/n was getting bored, this definitely wasn't a place for him, all people having fun but not him "i guess it was a bad idea coming here" he says circling the bottle's tip. y/n stands up and went to the bathroom, find jackson to say goodbye and leave. 

"oh hey" y/n says to get jackson's attention who was talking to some girls "talk to you later" he says to the girls and went straight to y/n "what happened?" he asks. "nothing" replied y/n touching the back of his neck embarrassed "just wanted to say goodbye i have to go now". "no, please don't go" says the drunk man, grabbing y/n by the hand and dragging him towards a room, jackson's bedroom. "please stay with me" begged jackson starting to kiss y/n who opened his eyes wide in surprise but just let himself go enjoying the delicious and wet kiss "you taste like many liquors" said y/n making jackson smile.

the clothes of both were being discarded one by one with jackson touching every inch of y/n's sexy body "so fucking sexy. and just for me" growled the man on y/n's ear. jackson started to grope y/n's ass and squeeze it very hard "hng" moaned y/n. "yes like that. moan for me pretty" whispered jackson kissing y/n's shoulders and the bottom doing the same with jackson's collarbones.

jackson lifted one of y/n's leg with a hand while fingering him with the other. "please, just put it in already" whimpered y/n wanting to feel jackson inside him "as you wish prince". both lay down in bed and jackson introduced his cock in y/n then leaving it in there without moving so y/n would get used to the sensation. "you don't how much i've craved this. i love you" y/n then realizes what he just said and look directly at jackson's eyes "oh i'm sorry" said y/n embarrassed. "what do you mean?" asked jackson, "it's nothing" y/n was scared, he didn't know how jackson was going to react, he was dumb for saying that in the middle of sex, many mixed emotions made y/n start to cry. 

"shush, don't cry pretty boy" whispered jackson "it's ok, don't cry" he says wiping y/n tears and hugged him "it's ok, let it all out" he rubs y/n's back. seeing how he calmed down a bit jackson says "it's ok, you know why?" looking at y/n with loving eyes "i love you too silly" he smiles and kisses y/n who was shocked, his all-life crush just said that he loves him? y/n can't believe it. "and as proof of my love for you i'm gonna make you mine tonight" jackson bit y/n's ear and started to thrust. y/n was happy for what he just heard "fill me with your love then" he says hugging jackson as hard as he can…

in a mating press position jackson was drilling y/n so hard that the bed started to shake "i'm not gonna stop until you're full of my love,  i don't care if the bed breaks" the party man assured y/n couldn't say anything just moans and whimpers, feeling jackson reaching his sweet spot with every thrust. he then slip all his cock out leaving just the tip inside y/n's puffy gaping hole and then slammed again, doing the same thing like 10 times again. y/n started to jerk off feeling that sensation in his stomach "i'm gonna cum jackson" drool spilling out of his mouth "cum for me baby" says the top, kissing y/n and playing with his nipples to make him cum fast. "i'm c-cumming" yelled y/n shooting his cum landing on his abdomen and jackson's chest and some on his chin, he then cleans it with his thumb and lick it "so tasty" says jackson. "get ready to get filled" says jackson speeding up his pace, the loud music outside covering the skin slapping sounds "receive all my love and don-don't waste it" he says feeling he is very close "love. love. love. receive. all. my. lovee~" every word accompanied by a hard thrust, cumming finally in the last one and filling y/n's insides with his sperm. "i love you so much prince" says jackson laying at the side of y/n caressing his face, "i love you too" y/n replies…

—

it was morning, both already cleaned up and jackson accompanied y/n to the front door passing by drunk people sleeping everywhere in the garden. "ok then, see you later i guess" says y/n shyly waving "wait, hold on" yells jackson making y/n turn around to face him "here let me put them on you" he puts the glasses on y/n and adjusts his hair "you look cute on them" he says once again making y/n flustered "don't say that" y/n pushes jackson's shoulder who just laughed "why don't you wait for me to get ready and i take you in my car?... and i can invite you to have breakfast in a cafeteria i know, food there is delicious. what do you think?" he asks, "sounds good for me. just don't be late" answered y/n.

jackson kissed y/n leaving him surprised "it's a date then" he goes quickly to change clothes and y/n just looks at him with his face red as a tomato "fuck… i blush too easily... damn!" he thinks.

[grapejuicestyless]

i have had this idea for so long, but i really think you could do this justice. sort of like the film the holiday!!! but not really set in Christmas and more so through the seasons. harry moves out of the city (doesn’t need to be a singer and could just be a CEO) into a small village in a lovely cottage where all of the furniture is mismatched and there’s sash windows which are always open. He’s there for a few months before he starts to feel lonely so decides to bring in a lodger! He hand makes posters and puts them on the village hall board and … he finally gets a taker! It’s a quirky girl who is totally all over the place and she moves in .. the seasons change and so does their relationship.. friends to lovers OR ACTUALLY maybe it could be so interesting for it to be enemies to lovers! That could be fun to write. But idk I’ve been thinking about it for so long !!! They could organise a dinner party for friends one night or maybe Harry goes away to the city for a meeting and that’s where y/n realises how much she misses him / likes him. Definitely has to be fluffy but also needs to have some drama. I haven’t figured that out yet 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry for this really long rambly post but I wanted to give u as much of my brain as possible lol. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you would do with this / if it’s something you’re even interested in. Have a gorgeous evening / day / morning xxx love you!!💖💖💖💖💖

Bad People

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n met by pure luck. Sharing secrets and laughing like little kids, ribs and cheeks hurting. Y/n is sure Harry is destined to be in her life forever. She’s just not sure when that became a bad thing.

FLANGST/FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS

The pale blue sky looked gray from certain windows. The glass was cracked and the stove stained with boiled over soup broth and old sprinklings of spices.

The birds sang solemnly, humming the tune to what I believed sounded like something you’d hear at a funeral. Here, the pavement was cracked and the stars were consistently covered with clouds. Snow, more often than not, fell heavily. From October to April. The nearby ocean nearly always too cold to swim in. The backyard pool cold and clean, still with nobody to inhabit it.

All the beauty ripped from the earth, and replaced with another kind of it. I wouldn’t mind it half as much, if I had someone to enjoy the snow with. To enjoy the polar plunges, the visible breath and numb fingers.

Like old times sake, snowmen and snowball fights. Sledding or fort making. Rosy cheeks and icy hair a memory of the past. Cheeks hurting from smiles, not the winter chill.

The laughter of my mother was long gone, and my brother outgrew his desire for a sibling as soon as he turned sixteen. Few friends, not any at least, that would enjoy the activities the white powder offered.

So now, I look out the window, nursing a glass of wine propped up on the windowsill. I don’t see the snow day ahead or pray for a white Christmas. I pray that one day, I’ll find someone to enjoy it with me. To soothe the pain little eight year old me suffered with the absence of her father, her distant mother and her selfish brother.

“Looking at it won’t make it fall any faster, Y/n.” The puff of air coming from my nose fogs up to cool glass, and my fingers leave prints along the center.

He’s not looking at me, he rarely does when we aren’t fighting. It’s like I disgust him. I feel like a fool every god damn time.

“Have you always naturally been an asshole or did you grow into it?” I don’t look at him, but I feel his gaze settle on my reflection in the glass. His voice alone urges me to take a large drink from the wine glass. The ruby red staining my top lip. I spread it around and taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.

He begins to leave, almost succeeding without a passing glance, but biting his tongue is something Harry nor I have ever been able to do. So it’s natural how he goes for the last word.

“Theres only so much wine, Y/n.” He teases. I down the rest while he walks away. The sigh that leaves my mouth after I feel the ghost of him leaving me isn’t only for air, but because suddenly the room feels lighter.

It’s funny, how someone so special can leave such a disgusting taste in your mouth. Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing. To remember that it wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always hate my old friend, bounded to me through the home we share. I once enjoyed the company of Harry styles.

It was nearly a year since I’d moved in. A year since the snow turned to thick ice and roads became bare with people too afraid to try and navigate through the harsh winter.

Nearly a year since I first saw the house at the end of the road, with a neat front lawn and a tree with hanging branches ready to snap.

A red scarf and red mittens is what I wore. With a faded brown coat and worn blue jeans. A hat on top of my head and a journal tucked underneath my arm. He had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The stars in the night sky didn’t quite shine as bright as his eyes, I swore it to myself.

He had an english accent, one that I wasn’t familiar with. Peach fuzz and dark chocolate curls a mess on his head. When I told him my job, he laughed, but something about his shocked expression after told me he didn’t mean it cruelly. Rather, that he was shocked, or just piecing the puzzle together.

“I’m my mother’s daughter.” I told him, “She always had a thing for poetry. The sappy ones with the tragic endings. I got it from her and I’m damn good at it.” I smiled at him then, and he smiled back bigger.

“It’s just funny. Moving somewhere so quiet for a job all about fantasy and adventure.” He explained, already guiding the two of us through the wide doorway. I set my boots in the old entryway which it seemed he had turned into a mud room. I admired the shade of green on the wall and nodded along. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

That night, while settling into my new space, I shared with him my life. My goals and dreams. With his toothy smile and boyish eyes, he made it so easy to trust him. I sat on my newly made bed and he sat in my spinning chair by my desk. Moving it back and forth, swaying slowly. A cigarette started dangling from his pocket, I still remember the way he took it between his thumb and his index finger. Rolling it around, debating whether or not to light it. It was like he didn’t know he had it.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” I laughed at him, he laughed back. Shy almost, only looking at me for a moment.

“M’not. A few here and there. Helps to wind down.” When he ran his hand through his hair, I remember seeing all his rings. A rose and two with his initials. One looked like a lion. That one was my favorite.

Other than his charming smile and infectious laughter, I knew nothing of him, I had come to realize. Here he was, knowing about my family and friends. My job and my hobbies. All I had asked him was his name.

When I asked him, he was just as talkative as I was. A sparkle in his eyes when he talked about his job. I remember specifically, how they lit up extra bright when he mentioned his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma. I learned about his job too. Harry had everything he could ever truly want. The money, the power, the glory. His office at the top floor overlooking the bustling city that never sleeps. Families dancing around the square and traffic backed up into the city line.

The sad thing was, that even with all this pride he got to carry with his reputation, the city was no home to him. The summer held no comfort. Not the same now that he was long out of school. The heat was simply uncomfortable. His lavish suit sticking to his skin. Even the air conditioner couldn’t soothe the pounding of his head against the strong New York heat.

His nose stung in the summer. The warmer it got, the worse it smelled. Garbage littering the streets no longer covered by thick snow. Tourists and their children filling up all his favorite places of relaxation. Each carrying their own scent from home. The calming pine from the North or the tangy citrus of the west coast.

Harry felt no true love for his home anymore. No real attachment. There was no smell of home, and there certainly wasn’t any old faces with their gravelly voices and thick accents. If it weren’t for the business there, he would’ve fled somewhere else long ago. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that felt like home. If he could, he would have tucked himself back into the small home his mother raised him and his sister in. He would’ve curled up happily in his twin bed and looked out the same crooked window each night and feel happy with only that.

He tells me that when he got in the car waiting for him at the airport, he was tempted to tell the driver to take him home, to see if it would make him smile. He’d seen the gag used in all the old rom-coms he and his mother used to watch. The short blonde running from the love of her life only to be led back into his arms. But Harry know’s better. He tells me so. So when the driver asks him where to, he tells him the address.

He told me about his work life. How there was a branch out in the UK. The one that started it all. And as his success grew, so did his aspirations and his needs. London no longer provided him with the luxury and opportunity that New York could. So he swapped out his office for a penthouse and acted like the smell of burning garbage and mysterious wet spots on the sidewalks didn’t bother him.

It’s a vicious cycle. To outgrow, to long for, to move, to hate all over again. Thats how he decided that London has just what he needed. His business within reach and smaller towns surrounding its borders.

“And what about now? Are you happy?” Harry crinkled his eyes then, smiling a nodding along. He didn’t even mind it then, when I would interrupt. In fact, he welcomed it. Claimed he loved hearing me talk.

I agreed with him when he said that the grass is greener down here. The stars are just that much brighter and theres not a single car honking their horn past nine. All things that left him feeling a whole lot calmer than the chaos of the city.

Here, Harry told me he didn’t mind not living in a lavish penthouse just a few blocks away from his work. Here, he was hours away from the city. He stays in a medium sized cape cod styled house, pre-decorated from the past owners who didn’t care to take their things when they left for something bigger. It sticks out from the rest of the homes nearby. He wonders how something so different ended up within the same area. And he smiled and sat on the floor when I laughed and told him he’d already lived quite the life for a nearly-thirty year old man.

When silence took over after over an hour long conversation, I bit at my nails and looked at the floor. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Harry?” I had asked. He hummed, looking at me. Even if I hadn’t looked back, I could still feel his eyes on mine. “What made you want a roommate?” When my eyes flickered up to his, I saw no hate, or disgust, or shame. Nothing that I am familiar with now in Harry’s eyes. I saw curiosity, warmth and happiness.

“I like the quiet. I like being able to sleep without someone yelling down the hallway. I like how green it is over here.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “But the quiet get’s lonely. And while I like the quiet, I hate being alone.” And it made me smile back then. Maybe it still does thinking about it know. He had been helping me in finding a home, some place warm to stay. Meanwhile, I had been able to give back. Give him what he wanted. At the time, my heart warmed.

For a long time after that, Harry made my heart beat fiercely. He brought me flowers and made us pancakes. Freshly picked blueberries from the local market. He cracked jokes and I repeated them back between our broken laughter, imitating his english accent.

He was a charming man, with an energy that invited and kept you drawn to him. Everyone wanted to be around Harry. The men and the women. Always wanting a piece of the pie. I felt rich in life, that while others had to work for a lifelong friendship with him, naturally, we fit together. We worked.

He entered my life by some kind of coincidence. I needed a place to stay and he was offering a room up.

When he brushed his thumb over my knuckles and kissed the skin, I believed we would be like this forever. Just the two of us.

When he whispered to me that he loved me that same night, I thought it was something he would never take back. Something that would never change. His warm breath and glistening eyes. He was red and shiny. A bottle of the cheap champagne sat on the table and an empty glass beside him. I let his lips trail around my hand and laugh at his antics.

“Harry.” I mumbled into the darkness, he doesn’t move. I silently giggle again after he puffs air out of his own nose onto my hand playfully. His shoulders shake with his own fits of laughter, “Harry.” I call out again, and my eyes are met with his dazzling emerald ones. I almost got lost, forgot how to talk looking at him.

My palms were sweaty with nervousness then. My heart beating out of my chest. I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. As a poet, it should have been easy to put my thoughts out in the open air. But they hadn’t sat within me for long enough to curate a straight forward answer.

How would I even manage to start on how beautiful I thought his brown hair was? Perfectly colored like milk chocolate treats that curled over his forehead. Or his toothy grin which pulled butterflies from the pit of my stomach and made me feel lighter? I couldn’t find just one thing to focus on. And the words that came out of my mouth tumbled out quickly.

“You’re my best friend.” I hoped that he would’ve been able to see how much love I held for him in my face. How even in the dim lighting of only the fireplace and the fading lamp in the corner, he could see how they sparkled just for him.

He pulled his hand away after that, clearing his throat and nodding. But he smiled so softly after that I didn’t see how his eyes welled up with tears. I only saw his perfectly pink lips and his rosy cheeks. For once, I wasn’t focused on his eyes, and I paid the price.

He never made pancakes for us after that night. Nor did he ever pick flowers from the fields or crack jokes until our stomachs hurt. My hand was never slotted between his and my head didn’t rest on top of his shoulders. He was colder, more distant. Quiet.

But the quiet grew old for us both. And the slipping away hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I was everyone else in his life. Fighting for a spot in the light so he would see me, smile at me, acknowledge me.

Part of me wondered why he never asked me to leave. To pack my bags and find another innocent man to love because he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. But he never did. Harry hated being alone and I knew better than anyone else. I knew it because I was his best friend at some point. We shared the same breaths and drank from the same glasses. I wore his shirts and he used my hair clips. He kept me around not because he still wanted me, but because he still needed me. And the realization of it all hurts worse than the silence because it’s then I know that I’ve really lost him. It leaves me with the question, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

I think back on that night when our world shifted on its axis and I go over every word that was said. I check for any signs of discomfort or anger and I find nothing. It plagues me with a new insecurity.

Maybe it wasn’t something I’d said, maybe it wasn’t something I’d done. Maybe the warmth from the champagne grew cold in his blood and the false euphoria from it all cleared from his peripheral vision and he realized that I was no longer enough. I was not what he wanted. The idea of his roommate becoming his only friend too pathetic for a man with such power.

Soon after, I stop putting up a fight. I stop fighting for a spot in his life and I stop trying to win back a man that was never mine. I figured at least if he could never be mine and I would never be his, at least I still got to see his pretty face everyday. And I could imagine that we never drifted.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The tears running down my cheeks are hot, burning my skin until my throat dully aches and my chest is red with flakes of nail polish and the dragging of my nails clawing at my chest.

I am sobbing, broken and tired. I dream of a life that is not as miserable. I dream of a life where I no longer doubt the things I love. Where I don’t have to question my friend’s loyalty.

He knocks on my door, leaning against it in only his flannel pants. He has tattoos that compliment his skin so well. He looks like a painting. I’m relieved to see him again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.

I wait for him to speak, even if it’s merely a mumble. Even if I cannot understand.

“Can you stop crying? I can’t sleep.” He requests. My lips part and I swear my lungs collapse within my chest. I can’t breathe and somehow I remain composed.

“Okay.” I say quietly, nodding along and trying to find his eyes. They look at the floor, and his face is contorted like it pained him to say that to me. Like it was against his will. But he doesn’t even look at me.

When he leaves, I collapse, shoulder shaking with rage, sadness, confusion instead of the contagious laughter that once rang out through the halls.

I decide then, July moon shining through the sash windows of my room that I couldn’t continue holding onto Harry. My heart still beats for him and my eyes still sparkled when his own lingered for just a moment longer on me, but I couldn’t like him.

Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing.

After that night, his selfish wishes turn to bitter comments which turn to vicious attacks at my confidence. And my resilience and devotion to silence, to ignore the cruelty of it all is worn thin. My bitten tongue is freed and I am betrayed by my own words. My own comments targeted at his deepest hurts. It’s a mutual hate between us, a mutual dislike.

We live within the same four walls, the same windows and creaky roof over our heads. We cook in the same kitchen and we sit on the same couch, but we cannot stand each other anymore. The house is no longer filled with love, and the warm heat turns to bitter cold. And yet, neither of us have the guts to leave.

We sit here, in a life thats so mean to us just because we are afraid of the loneliness that is surely to come with the other’s absence.

We are here, but we aren’t present. It makes me laugh, it makes me wonder.

Who could ever leave me? But who could stay?

The candles burned down to the floor, wax melting over the wood as the lights set a warm, homely mood for the night. The late December rush throughout the town turned to the few and far between searching for last minute supplies to ring in the new year. It’s peacefully still outside, and the dining room looks so nice I forget why the candles burn and our nicest plates are set out.

Harry insisted on having a small gathering with some of our friends to celebrate the new year before he went away for sometime for work. Being roommates, despite our lack of interest in establishing our own friendship, his friends become my friends and mine become his. It’s a fairly large group that was once two. But have now become so closely intertwined that it seems hard to differentiate who was friends with who first.

There was wine, pastas and breads. Hams and potatoes. Drinks and endless desserts. It felt nice, to have all those people we cared so deeply about chip in and help to create such a lovely meal for the few of us.

Hearing that first doorbell ring to see all of our friends stood proudly on our crooked doorstep made my heart flutter. Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Elin, Charlotte, Nyoh. All holding various foods to add to the never ending supply on the multiple tables set in a row.

“Harry! Y/n!” The enthusiasm from our friends seemed to lighten the mood, letting the heavy feeling of heated arguments and constant anger slip down my back and into the farthest part of my brain.

It was times like these where I’d forget how to hate. How to spread anger and disgust to someone who clearly showed none of it in return in these times. Here, Harry was talkative. Always plastering on a fake smile and wave.

He was good at pretending. And while the walls of the house had seen a different story, those around us were innocent, forever unknowing of how Harry constantly belittled me, bothered me. Of how I was no better. How my tongue was sharp and my words shot to kill.

Nobody minded the difference in height of the dinning room table against the kitchen table. How one was round and the other a rectangle. Both covered by one long table cloth. Nobody minded the soft music in the background or how the light wasn’t the brightest. The soft flickers never mentioned.

We let the candles burn until they had nothing left to give, and we ate until it was bare and our stomachs hurt. Here, I never felt like I was trapped. Here, I remembered why I came to live with Harry in the first place. And I was thankful. It was times like these I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot. Cheeks sore and eyes crinkling. I would laugh at just about anything, trust anyone and agree with everything.

“When are you going to tell him?” An elbow to the ribs pulled my gaze from the end of the table, my smile dropping for only a moment at the sudden shock.

“Sorry?” I mumbled softly into Sarah’s ear. Her eyes glimmered with something mischievous, like she knew something that I didn’t. She licked her pink lips and looked briefly back to the end of the table. All the way over by the dining table, sat a few feet away and a couple inches higher, was Harry. Laughing and talking with Pauli and Elin about anything and everything. I couldn’t quite make it out over the soft chatter of Mitch and Charlotte and the clinking of forks on plates.

“Harry!” She called softly. When my eyebrows furrowed she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I don’t get it.” Forking another bite of vegetables into my mouth, I watched her fight for the right words to say. Her lips finally settling on the soft smile I knew very well.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. I know that look. Better than anyone. Thats how I look at Mitch.” She playfully nudged my shoulder. Did she believe that I held any romantic feelings for Harry? I couldn’t, it was impossible. Right?

His rude remarks and his mean demeanor. Sure, at one point my heart beat for the brunette with an infectious smile and shiny green eyes, but now it was a memory of the past. Another pretty face who had thrown away all of his charm and care and exchanged with unwavering cruelty.

“Oh, no. Sarah, I don’t think about him that way.” I tried to wave her off, trying to sound the least amount disgusted by her assumption. I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought that.

“I don’t believe you.” She sounded smug, crossing her hands on my thigh and giggling. “You don’t have to. I believe myself.” Brushing her off, I take another bite of any remaining scraps on my plate. Trying to avoid conversation.

“Come on, you seriously don’t see it?” She sounded exasperated now, even more so when I nodded carelessly. She was getting tired of my avoidance to the conversation, my disinterest in her false discovery. Still, the longer she pushed, the more I felt the heat rush to my face. The more my cheeks burned and my skin tingled.

“I’m serious, Sarah. I don’t look at him in anyway. He’s just my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.” I lean back, volume brought down to a mere whisper with the dying laugher at the other end of the table.

“Well, he’s your friend at least, right?” The lump in my throat was unswallowable. With the growing tightness in my throat and the clamminess of my palms. I wanted nothing more than to slip away and pretend this never happened. So, I bite my tongue and nod, eyes flickering to Sarah while I do so. I pray that she doesn’t see the tears welling in the corners and how glossy they’ve gotten in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.” The lie stings, burning as it comes out. Partially because I hate lying to my dear Sarah, but mainly because at some point it was the truth.

Harry was my everything at one point in my life. He might as well have hung the damn moon and stars. I thought the world of him, wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around mine all the damn time. And it killed me that we’d gotten so far away from that idea that I had to lie about even being acquainted with him.

“Word of advice.” She started, eyeing Harry carefully. My eyes remained glued to the table, fork wobbling between my pointer finger and my thumb. “Best friends don’t look at each other that way.” And when she finished what she wanted to say, I swear my heart just about stopped. All color draining from my face and my eyes rapidly blinking away the tears by now.

Setting my fork down, I ignore her playful smile and the nudge of her shoulder into mine. I look for another face to converse with, to make me begin to forget everything I was trying so desperately to escape. When I search the table, it seems like each person has found themselves in deep conversation with the other. All but one.

And his green eyes capture mine in a way I haven’t known in so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the center of his gaze. How thrilling it was. With my eyes, glossed over and heart beating through my chest, it seemed impossible for me to ever consider looking away. His chocolate brown curls and sweet pink lips in a gentle smile. It was consuming and alluring. Irresistible even.

A face that once disgusted me, shattered my heart, angered me and knocked me down with no air left to breathe seemed not all that frightening anymore. And the warmth that spread in my chest scared me more than anything.

I begin to realize, maybe Sarah was right. Maybe that was why I hated him so much. I didn’t hate Harry Styles. And thats why it hurt just that much more. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact. No, rather my poor heart couldn’t handle the heartbreak and deflected in the most malicious way possible. I missed my best friend.

“Y/n.” Sarahs voice pulls me from my haze, and my eyes are flickering over to hers quickly. Lips still parted and eyes still wide.

“You’re crying.” I hadn’t felt the salty heat dripping down my cheeks until she announced it. My skin too numb from embarrassment to even understand what was happening.

My tongue is tied, and my throat is killing me. I feel like I might vomit if I stay here any longer. I can’t be here any longer, I can’t do it. Not when I’ve just realized what I did. I feel what I felt all those months ago when Harry told me to stop crying. When he shut me out for good and became bitter. I feel all air leave my lungs and my knees wobbling. I am going to collapse.

“I just need air.” I say all too loudly, pushing out the chair clumsily and stepping back. The loud scratch of the wooden legs of the wooden floors turns heads and my heavy breathing tells me to get the hell out.

I pardon myself after that, waving off any concern from Sarah, and making sure nobody else saw my escape. Everyone’s still deep into conversation when I turn the corner. All but Sarah and Harry. But neither of them make a move to reach me. I let myself collapse on my bed, mascara running down my white sheets and back aching from how stiff I became at that table. I silently pray that I’ll sleep through the rest of winter.

When the dinner got cold and we’d all run out of things to say, we all look around and silently agree to part ways. It was nice to have some company, I enjoyed being around these people so much. My heart should have been full, yet it felt heavy and empty all at the same time. Littered with a guilt I wasn’t even sure was mine.

I’d seen the way she looked at me. Really looked at me. Glossed over eyes and a quivering lip. She was red with the rush of adrenaline in her blood. Anyone could see how quickly she began to breathe. It was like she was stuck, consumed by something so strong that it left her powerless, weak, crumbling quickly under an undetermined pressure. She started to cry, biting back a sob by biting harshly into her bottom lip, eyes shaking while she searched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Who had said what, and how I could help her.

I wanted to yell at whoever hurt her this bad. And the feeling of that in itself was unsettling. How my heart still longed to comfort, protect the heart of the girl who once shattered my own with her own words. More than that, I wanted to scream when nobody followed her when she ran. How nobody cared nearly enough about why she was so upset.

I couldn’t understand why I was so invested in her. Someone I was sworn to hate. Someone I had teased and fought for months and let hurt me constantly in retaliation.

But then again, we were no better than one another. We never were. Always saying too little and not opening up quite enough. Creating issues instead of solving problems. We were explosive, nobody could hurt me quite like she could and yet, I felt horrible that she was so upset.

Like the day I’d found her pacing restlessly across the floor. Skin blotchy and eyes puffy with tears. Throat sore with the violent sobs ripping through them. I’d wanted to hold her then too, but I was too bitter to do anything but tell her to quiet down. I felt the same guilt in my bones. And I make the same mistakes I made the first time. I watch her break down and sit with the uneasiness of it all.

Mitch lays a hand over my shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Sarah as he leads her through the door. His eyes look sad and tired. But his smile is genuine and filled with concern.

“Check on Y/n for us okay? Sarah thought it would be best to leave her be for now.” His hand left my shoulder and the door shut quickly after. Leaving me with the unbearable silence and loneliness I felt so frequently nowadays. It breaks down my walls and scares the shit out of me.

Maybe thats why I make my way to the kitchen, shuffling slowly along the floors and leaning slowly over the makeshift tables. A bottle of rouge in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I stuff them in my pocket and hold the bottle close to my side.

I’m slow, delaying the inevitable question. When I knock on the door, it’s quiet. Almost like I’m hoping that if it’s soft enough, she won’t hear and I can pretend she was ignoring me. But, she does hear me, and she calls out a raspy, muffled welcome, signaling for whoever was hidden behind the door to come through and take in her puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

My throat tightens when I smell her perfume. Something that I would have drowned in not so long ago. She has clothes thrown on a chair in the corner, the same one I sat in so many months ago. I’m tempted to push them off and just sit in the silence with her like we once enjoyed doing.

Her head is in her pillow and her arms are underneath her. She is unaware of who she has let in, but her silence and unmoving body tells me she’s lost all ability to care. I want to leave. I want to turn around and convince myself it was all a mistake. I’d checked on her and she was still alive and well. I’d done my part and I could go on guilt free and forget about how crushed she’d looked just hours before.

When I begin to turn on my heels and pray for this day to be over, I see something unforgettable. A small Polaroid from last year. Just weeks after she’d moved in and charmed me with her beauty and whit. She’s sat with her legs over my lap and my arms around her body. We couldn’t be any happier, and the memory makes my chest sting.

She still cared enough to keep up the old memories of us, even after all the fights and mean glares. Why did she have to keep the damn photo up?

Guilt consumes me once again, and I am faced with the sad woman in front of me, still in the same place as before and just as sad as before. My feet betray my mind, and soon I am stood beside her bedside table with a bottle of wine dangling between my pointer finger and my middle finger.

The glass knocks against her shoulder in a silent invitation. My eyes wordlessly asking her to follow. Her eyes are red, and her lips still shake. She looks completely torn apart, desperate and distraught. Disheveled even. But for some reason in my blurry head, all I can think about is how absolutely beautiful she is in the pale moonlight.

“Come on.” I ask her softly, offering her my hand. When she takes it, she’s nodding already. Trusting a man who deserves no second chances, no trust whatsoever for his cruelty and his inability to communicate. But she follows regardless.

I can’t help but realize how having her so close feels good.

He lights the cigarette for me and watches as I let it burn. My lips twitch as they wrap around the end, tasting the bitterness of its contents and the dry paper.

“How did we end up here?” I ask him, looking over the horizon. The waves are calming over here. They almost silence the ringing in my ears, despite the distance between where we sit, feet dangling over the empty pool edge and the large grass behind it.

He shrugs, snagging the cigarette from my hand delicately and taking a long drag from its end. We swap, my hands wrap around the neck of the wine bottle. It’s tinted green and nearly full.

“Unlucky people, I guess.” He looks at his feet. They dangle in the pool beside mine. You can see just how close we are in the turquoise tint. How the lights make us look less vibrant.

“I wouldn’t consider us unlucky.” I look at the sky, and I can feel his eyes on my face. It makes me swallow, how intense his gaze is. It almost makes it feel that much more real.

“Why’s that?” He asks, twisting the bud out on the cement. It stains the freshly cleaned grey stone an ashy black, but I bite my tongue.

“We had each other. Maybe we aren’t the best people, maybe we’re cruel, but I’d rather argue than live in solitude, right? Company can’t be bought. Even the most painful of it. That’s something real. Something without a price. And we’ve got it.” And it’s true. We fight and we throw shit. We stain the walls and rip the curtains. We start fires and try to blame the other. We make a mess and make amends. But a house isn’t a home without someone to share it with. And at least if we had to suffer to get there, we got it.

“Thats some of your poet shit.” He laughs sadly into the silence, looking at his feet. I laugh along, though I can tell he was only half joking. Then, I let the silence wash back over us. Forgetting how we almost had a full conversation.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I’m so mean.” He says sincerely. It’s sudden too. I can tell from the rawness in his voice. How his eyes tear up and his lips quiver. His voice cracks. Our feet hang off the edge of the backyard. It’s a quiet life. Even now. With our fights and all the fraud. But it’s never a lonely life, and we only have each other to thank for it.

I want to tell him I know, and I’m so sure of it. I’ve seen the real him, we might just not mesh together. But we once had, and that fact alone holds me back. He takes the lack of response and an opportunity to excuse himself. Pulling his body up by the arms and grunting through the sliding back door. I sit alone in the backyard for hours, body curling up into itself and layers of clothing becoming less than enough after some more time.

“I know.” I whisper into the silence. I know he’s not a bad person, I know it so well and I am so certain of it. I knew Harry once. He’s loyal and kind and the smartest man I’d ever met. And I miss knowing him like that so much.

I thought for a second tonight, I’d gotten part of him back. And maybe I had, but he left so soon I couldn’t really tell all that well. He’s left me back in the silence, wondering what happened to us, and what will happen to us. Why he came to get me, and why he even bothered to open up to me. But he never gives me the time to properly ask, even if I planned to.

I ring in the New Year alone.

The next morning he’s gone. Back to New York for his business in the big city and I am left to sit and think about what was said. A half empty bottle of wine stained with my red lipstick and glitter on the floor from old party poppers Charlotte and Elin had made sure to use before making their exit. I repeat his words.

He’s not a bad person, so why is he so mean? It’s best left unknown. Because if theres one thing I fear more than anything, it’s the realization of rejection.

Even from a man I hate so entirely, it consumes me. That I could not stand to be faced with the fact that Harry and I do not get along simply because we do not work and not because of some other underlying reason.

After all, we had it all. Gave each other everything the other had wanted. Food, shelter, company. There was really so explanation for the bitterness between us.

After all, all this time, despite his anger and hatred, he never left me to the wolves. And despite my heartbreak and sadness, I never left him with an empty home.

A wise man once said to never bite the hand that feeds it. Yet, here we are. Ripping skin from bone until we are left with nothing. We are the ungrateful, the selfish, the cruel. And we both believe that we are in the right.

I am so scared of rejection from this man who I claim to hate because he is the hand that feeds me and I am the hand to him.

We aren’t bad people, so why are we so mean? We recognize all we have to be grateful for, so why do we bite the hand that feeds us?

I guess the vulnerability of it all must have scared us. And while facing the storm, we did what all people do. We let fear consume us and we bite.

Somehow, through all of this. The realizations and the tears and wine and dusty ashes, I love him. Even with my teeth sinking into his skin and his own in mine, drawing blood, I love him. I love Harry Styles. He is my best friend and I am his. That is why I am scared and that is why it hurts so bad. Not because I simply missed him, but rather because my heart was devoted to a man who did not want it.

My fingers fumble over the pad on the phone. I type up his phone number by heart and let it ring. He answers quickly, still waiting for his plane at the airport.

“Y/n?” I can hear the bustling crowds around him and the loud engines taking off from other terminals. I imagine he is plugging one of his ears and mentally cursing the noise for making it so hard to hear.

“Come home.” My breathing is unstable, and my hands run through my hair so much I create new tangles by my neck.

“What? No, Y/n, I have to go. People are expecting me.” He starts to explain how important this is for his business. How it would be so much simpler to be there rather than over a computer screen.

“Fuck them, who cares! Harry, I need you, and I want you, please just listen to me for once. Don’t scoff, or…or roll your eyes or leave! Listen to me this once and if it’s not worth it to you, I promise you’ll never have to listen to me again. Please, it’s important.” I ramble all in one breath, endless pleas met with silence. I can feel the rejection coming, I can hear the way he chokes on a breath, debating what I said.

“Okay.” The phone goes dead with his promise to come home. With the continuous beeps, I slowly come to terms with what I’d just done. But I do not feel panicked, or scared. I feel lighter with the fact that I am about to tell the moody boy something I wished I told him a long time ago.

The door opens with a creak, keys jingling in his large palms. I’d spent the morning pacing the kitchen. Leaving a trail of confetti behind in my wake. I hadn’t cared enough to clean with my endless thoughts and extreme amounts of adrenaline.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure when it rang out. As if he didn’t know what to expect. The door shut behind him not long before I came rushing around the corner, fingernails bitten to the skin and hangnails bleeding profusely.

“God, Y/n what the hell…” Taking my hands into his, he examined the redness of my irritated skin stained further with dry blood.

“I know.” I looked at him, and he looked back at me like I was crazy.

“What?” His thumbs bent over the backs of my palms, holding me in front of him.

“I know.” I breathed out again, looking at him with such sincerity, praying for him to understand. “You’re not a bad person, and I know it because I know you. Because we fight and we tease and we scream and cry. But I know you because once we didn’t do all of that. And I needed you to know that because it wasn’t fair of me to make you believe that to be true after everything you’ve done for me.” My voice shook with how vulnerable I felt myself becoming. Harry’s hands only tightened the further I explained.

“But what about all I’ve done to you. Y/n, I’ve been awful to you and I never even told you why.” He tried to argue. I shook my head, biting my lips.

“I haven’t been much better.” I smiled sadly. He shook his head back.

“No.”

“Yes.” I blinked hard, pushing back the tears that formed watching his own gather by his waterline.

“No, Y/n, I’ve been horrible. I’ve been mean.” He tried to push away everything I was trying to ignore.

“And so have I.” I tried harder to make him understand.

“But you only did it because I had. And for what?” He finally spoke, voice raised with so much desperation behind it, I froze under his touch.

“Because I loved you so much it drove me fucking insane? Because I still love you and I’m afraid if I can’t get you to hate me I’ll never be able to stop.” He was crying now, pleading with me to make me see his side of things. All I could do was shake my head.

“Harry I could never hate you.”

“But you could never love me.” He argued.

“Thats not true, Harry tell me you know that it couldn’t be true.” I rip my hands from his grip to rest them on his cheeks. I try to wipe away his tears, but his hands cover my wrists and pull them back down.

“How could I? You said it yourself. All those months ago, I told you. I held you close and I told you I loved you. You told me I was your best friend. You couldn’t even pretend!” Neither of us could tell if he was angry or just sad. Maybe both, but no amount of denial would calm him down.

“I didn’t have to, I still don’t have to pretend! Harry, I only said that because I was so fucking scared. Scared of us, of me, of you. Of losing you if it didn’t work. And I lost you anyways, I would’ve just said it if I knew I’d lose you like this.” Our chests bumped and his fingers slipped between mine.

“Y/n.” He whispered into the silence, over our heavy breathing and salty tears.

“I love you, and I miss you.” He didn’t say anything. I could feel him slipping away as soon as his response never came. Not a single word left to say between us. Not a single amount of energy left to fight.

And then he was kissing me. Hard and sweet. Like I was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Like he was hungry, needing more and more of something he had always wanted but could never have. And at the same time, it was soft and tender. Like he never wanted it to end. My back arched within the grip of his wandering hands and my fingers tangling in his curls. I swore I would never let him go.

But it was a swear I couldn’t keep, because air dwindled quickly and spit strung between our lips. Something I would usually gag at, but didn’t mind at the moment. His forehead against mine and arms gripping the fabric by my hips so tight if I moved he could have ripped it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in between his heaving breaths.

“Me too.” Looking at him, I could see the red staining his lips from the makeup I’d slept in. It made me laugh, which in result made him smile.

“What? What!” He laughed along cluelessly, letting me back away for a moment.

“You have something-“ I pointed again his mouth and smiled.

“Oh do I? Do I?” He kissed my cheek, smearing the remnants of our kiss across my cheek. “Still there?” He asked with a sly grin. Like he knew he was winning.

So I kissed him hard again, smearing red around his skin and his pink lips with so much love, there was no denying my feelings anymore. There was no hate left to give.

“Yeah, you do.” It was yet another fight, but not one I minded.

After all, thats what we did for so long, it was what we were good at. The teasing and the fighting. Only now it wasn’t bitter, it was playful. And we didn’t coexist with the sole purpose of it.

Because now I was his and he was mine. And this knowledge answered all my questions, all my doubts I’d had before about our relationship and our shared insecurities that led us down this scaring path.

Harry was my best friend, and I was his. And there was no love greater than that.

[kkami-writes]

Black Blood  – Chapter One. cw. written in third person, other chapters will be second person unless otherwise specified wc. 1.1k (1,118)

October 31, 2020 “Honestly, I think this is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Hyunjin mumbles out, mostly to himself but his other members are quick to shush him and he goes back to curling himself into a ball. He wonders briefly why he was even here in the first place. 

Him, along with Jisung and Jeongin, were currently sitting in Felix’s room, surrounded by a shit ton of candles that added to the ambience but didn’t provide much light to the dark room. Hyunjin vaguely wondered where Felix had gotten his hands on this many candles, but it was the least of his worries. The two youngest were preoccupied with a ouija board that was laid on top of what he assumed was supposed to be a pentagram; their hands settled on the planchette, moving it across the board in nonsensical circles. 

It was, of course, Felix’s idea to try ‘communicating with the spirits’, seeing as it was halloween of all days and he had insisted that you were supposed to do stupid stuff like this on the spooky holiday. Everyone else had blatantly refused though, leaving just the four of them huddled on the floor. Jisung sat off to the side, a bit further than the others as he clutched a container of salt to his chest. 

‘For protection, duh,’ was his simple response when they had asked him what he brought the seasoning for. No more questions had been asked after that. 

Outside a storm raged on, rain beating loudly against the windows of the dorm, adding to the creepy atmosphere they had set for themselves. Lightning could be heard in the distance, rumbling softly. 

Hyunjin on the other hand, was just about done with his members' shenanigans. He was more than ready to call it a night and crawl into his nice warm bed that was practically calling his name. It was just about to strike midnight and nothing even remotely interesting had happened in the last ten minutes. How much longer were they gonna keep trying? 

Felix and Jeongin on the other hand were still visibly excited, the former starting to chant something in what Hyunjin supposed was to be latin, though being incredibly butchered by the deep voiced aussie. At this, he’s officially done. Hyunjin could only handle so much from them.

“You guys are crazy, I’m out,” He says with a sigh, moving to stand up and leave. 

It’s at this moment though that lightning strikes nearby, resulting in a loud echoing boom that feels like it shakes the entire dorm. All of them scream loudly, definitely waking up their neighbors (who have already filed plenty of noise complaints against the group). Jisung practically flings the salt out of his hands, effectively sprinkling it all over the carpet as he moves to cling onto Jeongin. 

The candles suddenly blow out and they’re screaming again - this time Felix launching himself into Hyunjin’s chest, the latter eagerly wrapping his arms around the lithe boy for any source of comfort. An almost eerie silence overtakes them as they sit in the darkness for a few minutes, no one daring to utter a single sound. 

“Can we be done now? I think my heart is about to give up,” It’s Jisung that breaks the silence, a slight whine to his voice as it cracks from the fear that’s stuck in his throat.

“Aw, don’t you wanna have some more fun?” A new voice pipes up, this one distinctly female and that was definitely not here before. The boys are screaming for a third time, all of them scrambling up in an attempt to get away from this intruder that sounded far too close to them. The disembodied voice laughs at their fright, the sound is light and sultry, almost borderline seductive. 

“Jeez you guys are loud. Calm down. Here, let me get the lights,” At this, all the candles flicker back to life, the boys watching with wide eyes. All four of them had ended up huddled together, pressed into the corner of the room and clinging to each other rather desperately. 

Hyunjin blinks in disbelief at the sight before him. In the middle of the room, laid on top of the makeshift pentagram and ouija board is a woman. The position she’s in is seductive, one leg fully extended and the other propped up at an angle with  a hand on her hip while the other holds her head up. Clad in black lingerie, there’s a corset wrapped around her waist that nicely accentuates her curves with a garter belt that holds up sheer thigh highs. To top everything off, her black stiletto shoes are definitely at least 3 or 4 inches and could probably kill a man. 

Hyunjin finds it rather hard to swallow down the lump in his now very dry throat. 

The thing that stands out the most are the bright red horns on top of her head, they’re slightly curved inwards and they match the eerie color of her eyes that are currently glowing and piercing through the four boys. To top everything off, she’s also got a tail, it’s pointed at the end and currently in the air, swirling around as if it was a snake hunting for its prey. 

Silence follows for a few minutes, none of the boys really know what to say, their minds coming up blank in the impossible situation before them. The girl is simply studying them closely, not bothering to move from her comfortable spot on the floor. They don’t get the chance to say anything before the door to Felix’s room is being slammed open, the other members piling in. 

“Hey, we heard you screaming? Is everything ok?” Chan asks the four boys in the corner, not even noticing the biggest problem in the middle of the room as he goes into leader mode. The other three have definitely noticed the new person in the room, who had definitely not been there before. 

“Hyung,” Minho’s nudging into Chan’s side, his eyes glued onto the half-naked girl whom his leader hasn’t even seen. 

“Oh my god what,” Chan starts as he turns towards Minho, whose gaze is somewhere else and he lets himself follow the other’s line of sight. He can’t see too well in the barely lit room so he quickly flips the light switch on.

He falters at the figure he can now clearly see, she’s still laid out on the floor, seemingly content just watching the events fold before her. But once she notices that Chan’s eyes have landed on her, she’s sending him a cheeky grin and a small wave - her sharp canines not going unnoticed by the eight. 

“Well hello there,”

[brabblesblog]

Ch 7: And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

It is the day of the party, and Astarion slowly begins to find the side of himself he’s long hidden slipping out. Ban is all too happy to help.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

The party was about to start.

Ban had yet to show up to the ballroom, and Astarion felt himself getting impatient. As he waited, his mind drifted back to earlier in the day, when she’d arrived in the carriage he’d sent for her, dressed in the simplest clothes he’d seen her wear in a while.

Without his input, she had shifted back to her old wardrobe, dressing down and picking more utilitarian styles, even in public. When he’d welcomed her into the palace, he hadn’t been able to help but curl his lip at her choice in clothing.

“My love. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable? Your clothes are right where you left them.” One glance at her face shut him up and ended that line of inquiry.

He wanted to hover over her, follow her around the grounds to see her reaction to the gardens and the other finished rooms as she walked through them. The palace had been her pet project for so long that he was quite sure that as much as she claimed to hate it, there was some affection there. However he held back, instead walking with her to their former bedroom.

“You are, of course, free to roam the grounds. You could take a walk in the gardens. The flowers are in full bloom.” He made no offer to join her.

She opened the door and headed inside, then blinked in surprise.

Is that…?

Yes. It was.

That ragged, dirty blanket he’d dragged along throughout their adventure. She hadn’t seen it since…

Since he’d ascended.

It was now laying on the floor of the bedroom, along with a pillow. It was cleaner now, having been washed at least, but it was definitely the same blanket, down to that small tear on the corner.

Before she could speak, Astarion walked in briskly and turned to face her, hiding the view of the blanket behind his legs.

“I’ll have your tea and lunch served wherever in the palace you wish to dine. Simply ask anyone, and they will provide. I will personally be overseeing the preparations for tonight, but I shall be in the dining room at noon. You’re welcome to join me.” The words came out in a nervous rush.

Ban bit the inside of her cheek, weighing her next move. She took a step forward and closed her eyes briefly. Just a quick test, she told herself. Her hand reached out before she could think too much, taking Astarion’s hand in her own.

His first instinct was to flinch. He braced, fully expecting to hear the loud bang that would accompany his body being flung away again, but it didn't happen. His eyes widened, meeting Ban’s as she opened hers.

“Just testing it,” she said, “Wouldn’t want to go to the ball unprepared and have you flying in front of everyone. That would be humiliating.”

He managed to muster enough presence of mind to nod, but hadn’t said much else. She touched me. He looked at his hand in hers, feeling her palm. She turned her hand to lay on top of his, her fingers finding his pulse.

His heart was racing. He couldn’t hide it from her, just like he couldn’t hide the blanket on the floor, or his desperate, pitiful need for her. He was frozen, a war raging in his head. The Ascendant wanted to grab her, kiss her, take her, but Astarion - her Astarion - won out.

He cleared his throat. “Does this mean that the spell is gone? I can touch you?” He heard the nervous lilt in his voice, but he couldn’t keep it out.

“Yes, but I can bring it back up the moment I want to.”

Their hands were still linked, her fingers still feeling his pulse. Before he’d ascended, she had always liked listening to his heart, at the way it sped up, just for her.

He covered her hand with his, sandwiching it between his palms. She had derailed his train of thought yet again. He had been planning to be his usual self today, but she had wormed her way through the chinks in his armor with one simple gesture.

She had touched him willingly. And then she’d held his heart in her hand. He despised it, but at the same time also reveled in it.

Ban saw it, how his gaze went from their joined hands to her face again, his eyes round and wide. It was a look she hadn’t seen often since his ascension and it melted her traitorous heart. She decided to give him a little break from the intimacy, an out so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed and lash out.

“Is the offer of better clothes still available? I think I wouldn’t mind roaming the gardens for a little bit.”

He relaxed, content to slip his mask back on again. That had felt a little too raw. “Of course. I have made some alterations to the clothes you left here, pet. I hope you don’t mind.”

He reached for the nearby closet, opening the door and taking out one of her old outfits without even looking. It was the most recent piece he’d added embroidery to in his free time. He held it out for her to see.

The backless extravaganza, the vendor had called it. They both remembered purchasing it when they’d first made it to Baldur’s Gate. Astarion had wanted to steal it for her, but she’d made him purchase it instead. The memory made him smile wistfully.

“Just buy it,” she said, laughing. “Or else I’m not wearing it.”

He scowled. “Darling. You know the coin I’m buying it with is stolen, right? What difference would it make?”

“I like the idea of you parting with your coin for me.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him playfully, and just like that, he reached for his coin purse.

“I hate you,” he mumbled as he paid.

Releasing the memory, Astarion raised the pant section of the outfit. The right leg now had roses embroidered on it. Ban took it from Astarion’s hands, holding the work closer to her face. She’d known he enjoyed embroidering, and had seen it on his clothes and underwear before, but she had never seen him engage in it since the rite.

It was beautiful, and she didn’t mind saying so. “You do very fine work,” she said, her hands reverent as they ran over the flowers. “Thank you.”

If only he had done this type of thing before she’d left. But it was too late for that now.

The side of his lip curled up in a half-smile. “I had some time on my hands,” he said simply. That, and too many things to forget.

As Ban moved to put the outfit on the bed, she walked past Astarion and saw the blanket again. Carefully she leaned down, picking it up along with the pillow. He almost protested, but stopped as she placed them on the bed along with her outfit.

“The floor never did wonders for your back, Astarion.”

His eyes darkened a little, feeling a bit cornered by the path the conversation had taken. He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off.

“The pretty thing I brought home last night wanted to sleep over, so I let him kip out on the floor.”

Considering that the bed was pristine and not slept in, Ban highly doubted that but merely nodded. The Ascendant straightened up.

“Well.” He clapped his hands together once. “I shall be off, then. I hope to see you at lunch.”

As he turned to leave, Ban gripped his wrist. The touch made him shiver involuntarily, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through his body.

She leaned in, smiled, and kissed his cheek - his reward for behaving relatively nicely today.

It was a quick, chaste move, but Astarion felt like he might swoon. He mastered himself swiftly and looked at her with a smirk.

“What was that for, my treasure?” His voice oozed with false, playful innocence, as he attempted to sexualize the moment in order to process it. He could not even begin to think about it in other terms without falling apart.

“Just a taste, my lord, of things to come your way if you behave.”

The Ascendant bristled. How dare she dangle herself and her affection in front of him like that! He deserves it - is even possibly entitled to it. But he knew that if he pushed back, she'd just bring her wards up and he wouldn’t be able to touch her again. He would probably rather die than have that occur.

The spawn deep inside him also knew it was a sign of trust from her. The fact that she had touched his hand and kissed his cheek of her own volition could be the first step in winning her back, and he wasn’t about to squander that.

“I’ll play along if it’s worth the reward.” He deftly maneuvered himself so that he was leaning over her, invading her space, a subtle but unmissable attempt to shift the tide of power his way. “What… can I expect to receive?” He trailed a finger over Ban’s shoulder to her collarbone.

“You’ll have to find out when you earn it,” she said simply, meeting his gaze head on. She no longer cowered or bowed to the Ascendant’s will, and to his surprise, he found that resistance overwhelmingly attractive.

His eyes locked onto her lips for one second, letting her know exactly what he was thinking. Then he pulled away. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

He’d been perusing paperwork at the dining table when she finally walked in. Astarion immediately put the parchment down and let his eyes roam over her body, taking in the sight of her in the skintight outfit. Every muscle and curve was very much defined with little left to the imagination, which was exactly why he had wanted to steal the ensemble for her in the first place.

He aimed to say something a little sexy and teasing, but ended up being sincere. “You look beautiful.”

She beamed at him, a smile that instantly made him feel a little too pliant and soft. He stood to pull a chair out for her, much like he’d done when they’d still lived together.

She sighed as she sat. “The gardens are amazing. Exactly how I imagined them to be.” Ban looked a little rueful, and Astarion took that moment and decided to press his advantage.

“They’re still missing something,” he mused, keeping his tone light as his fingers snapped together and the servants quickly served Ban her lunch and tea. “This whole palace is missing something.”

She laughed, a sound he realized he would willingly lay down his life to hear again. “Before you say it’s missing me, Astarion, do know that I am extremely aware of when you’re fibbing.”

“Flattering you isn’t exactly lying, Ban,” he corrected, “I merely say what I perceive to be the truth.” He picked up his fork and began to eat his lunch, an appetizer of fresh salad as his first course. “The Crimson Palace does miss its mistress. It needs your touch to be a home again.”

He offered her a small grin, but it was less teasing and more pleasant than the ones he’d thrown her way in recent memory. He’d slipped last time, told her he missed her, and he was trying not to have that happen again. This new, unflinching resistance to his will both vexed and enamored the Ascendant, so much so that he found himself willing to do almost anything to have her back. He wouldn’t concede to letting the spawn inside him free rein, but he was more than willing to make concessions. Instead, he decided to take measured risks, allowing himself bit by little bit of vulnerability.

She looked around the room, in no hurry to settle in to eat her own salad. Although the taste of mortal food was flavorless and unfulfilling, it wasn’t repulsive and she did occasionally indulge, just to keep some sense of normalcy. But she didn’t look forward to it, either. Her observations turned up no significant changes to the room. The table was still too big for the two of them, but it didn’t feel as isolating as it used to.

Astarion watched her begrudgingly begin to eat, then frowned. “I have an idea,” he said. He’d been doing an awful amount of thinking in her absence.

He tapped his temple, a quick indication of what he was about to do, then reached for her mind. As she let him in, he took a bite of his own meal, letting her perceive what he could taste as he ate.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and not just because he'd thought of doing this when it had not even occurred to her; but because of why he was doing it. Something to think on later. For now, she chose to enjoy the moment, eating her salad and letting his taste buds do the work for her.

With her salad quickly finished, she severed the mental link. He paused, the sudden emptiness in his mind a little unpleasant, but he didn’t react. He looked over to her and was surprised to see something he hadn’t seen in ages - affection. It had been so long he almost didn't even recognize it.

“Thank you,” she said, for the second time today. It was almost odd for Ban to be doing so. Their relationship had taken such a horrible turn that every single favor each did for the other had been balanced and counterbalanced on a scale of favors and resentment. This was… refreshing. And sure, there was the promise of something at the end of it all, but really - Ban knew she’d end up with Astarion deep inside her anyway; she knew he knew this too. And so all these favors he’d been doing felt all the more sweet, especially since both the embroidery and the food tasting idea were obviously not off the cuff things.

Astarion offered her a crooked, goofy smile in response, for a moment utterly disarmed by her. That smile, the one she had only ever seen when he was still her Astarion, erased all sense of control she had; she leaned closer to put a hand on his knee.

The contact made him freeze, and immediately he waved a hand at the staff waiting nearby, a gesture that told them to clear the room. He turned to her, the smile turning into a more predatory grin.

“Have I behaved enough then, Ban?”

She silently scanned his face, then picked up her goblet and downed her actual lunch - fresh blood. Her tea remained untouched.

“The day isn’t quite finished yet. However, I’m sure a small aperitif wouldn’t go amiss.”

With her impressive strength, she turned Astarion’s chair towards hers. He was taken off guard. Months of having her acquiesce to his every whim and seeing her do little more than lounge around the house had made him forget just how strong his consort was. His breath caught in his throat, and he was stunned for a moment, unsure if he wanted to fight her or if he wanted to fuck her. He thought it was probably both.

His hands wrapped around each arm of the chair, as if he was holding on for dear life. She saw this and knew she’d won this round. Ban stood, parting his legs with her thigh, moving in close and leaning down to kiss him roughly.

With his head tipped back to accommodate her lips, Astarion groaned weakly when their tongues made contact. It had been so, so long. His cock began to harden, and he couldn't help the jerk of his hips, rubbing himself on her thigh. Immediately she drew her leg away, stepping back, and he growled at the loss of contact.

“Don’t be bad and ruin this, Astarion. Remember - I can end this the very moment I decide you’ve gone too far.”

The reminder was enough to cow the Ascendant, much to his shock. On a surface level, he thought he should fight back - this was not how things usually went for him. In fact, this had never happened, save for the times when he’d been forced to endure it for some of Cazador’s victims. But deeper within him, he felt an odd sense of ease - that he wouldn’t have to think or decide how to go about this, that Ban could and would guide him through it all.

A rather belated moment of clarity hit him then. Had he allowed her to have him like this back then, had he offered her his submission, shown her vulnerability in at least one area, their love might have not become so barren. She might never have left in the first place.

He forced his hips to still, staring up at her as she broke their kiss. That cocksure look in her eyes made his own cock throb, and he bit back the moan that was about to escape him. Ban saw him bite his lip and snickered. Before she proceeded, however, she leaned in, her expression shifting to one of concern. When they’d lived together they had made love every night and they had indulged in similar play, but the roles had been switched. She tried her best to do what he’d done for her back then, even though she hadn’t exactly appreciated it at the time.

“Are you amenable to this, Astarion? I need to know, or we can’t proceed.”

He understood the question, understood that she wasn't asking if his ego could take it. She was asking if he could handle it.

He gave her a nod. “I’m sure. To be honest, darling, I’ve barely experienced it this way. But better you than anyone else.”

Darling. Ban was pleased. He almost never used her old nickname, not if the Ascendant could get away with using pet, or treasure.

She nodded, then continued, “We need a surefire way for you to tell me when you’ve had enough. Shall we use the word I used before?”

Another nod from him and she was satisfied. Wordlessly she spread his thighs further apart with her hands, then knelt in the space between them.

Astarion looked down at her, his shirt suddenly feeling too hot and constricting, his cock fighting against the cloth of his trousers.

The only sound that came from his mouth was a broken groan, and she laughed again. The sight of him like this - legs spread and pliant, cock throbbing, waiting for her next move - it was something she thought she'd remember for eternity.

Ban moved forward, getting up on one knee to mouth at his jawline, tracing sloppy kisses down to his Adam's apple then to his collarbone. He shifted his torso closer to her, giving her access. The scent of bergamot filled her nose and she inhaled deeply; he had always smelled like home.

“Be a sweetheart and keep your hands on the chair.”

Astarion was only able to nod yet again, as her hands found the buttons of his shirt and slowly undid them. There really wasn’t much thought left in him, just her. Her presence, her hands stripping his clothes off, and that almost painful pulsing in his cock.

She finished undoing all the buttons and paused to admire her handiwork. “Beautiful,” she breathed, “I’ve wanted to do this since the fitting, Astarion. I won’t hide behind false words and bravado like you do. I missed you.”

His eyes locked on hers. He wanted to say it back, but the walls were still there. Instead, the Ascendant whined. It was a desperate, undignified sound, but he preferred to show her his lust rather than the contents of his heart.

That low whine sounded like music to Ban. She ran a hand down his chest, down to his abs, and then lower, wrapping her fingers around the outline of his cock. He gasped, his hips fighting the urge to buck, his body trembling with the sheer effort of it.

Ban rubbed him through his trousers, and she felt dampness where his tip was, an obvious sign of how much he was aching for her. She flicked her eyes up to his face, and the look of wanton desire and need on it was almost too much.

“Do you want me to suck you, my lord?” She teased. She squeezed a little roughly, eliciting another sweet groan from his throat.

“Yes.” The word came out in a hiss as he fought down his instinct to push back and reassert dominance.

“Repeat after me, then. ‘Ban, my love, please suck my cock’,” she said, still stroking him slowly, thoroughly enjoying the sight of him so desperately needy for her. She was wet too, but she could attend to her own needs later. Besides, this was only the start.

“Ban… my love. Please. Suck my cock.” He gritted out through clenched teeth. He found that it was getting easier and easier to relinquish control as he parted his legs further and shifted forward on his chair.

“Very good.”

She moved to undo the buttons of his trousers, reaching in to free his aching cock. The first contact with the chilly air made Astarion hiss, his head already sensitive and still leaking. A bead of precum formed at the tip, and Ban watched it for a moment, then leaned forward to playfully lick it up. The salty, musky taste was almost too good to resist, and for a moment she fought the urge to take all of him in immediately, anticipation and games be damned.

“Ban,” he gasped out as her tongue made contact, his voice a little higher than it usually was. He had his pride; he wouldn’t ever beg unless she forced him to. But the way he said her name was more than satisfactory to her.

She chuckled darkly, looking at his face. She made a point to lock eyes with him as she finally opened her mouth and slipped him inside, inch by painstaking inch.

The sight of her, of his beloved, taking him in almost made him come on the spot. It had been in his fantasies ever since she’d left, but the reality was utterly different from his dreams and memories.

Before, he had fucked her mouth, grabbed her hair while he pumped into her throat. But now he daren’t even move, knowing that if she chose, this would end painfully and embarrassingly for him. All it would take would be for her to think of rescinding her consent and he’d go flying. So he held still, refusing to analyze why it felt so right to surrender to her, to let her rule over him like this.

“You’re thinking too much,” she said, pulling away for a moment. “Just enjoy it.”

He hesitated briefly, opening his mouth as if to reply, but she swallowed down his cock again and his words were lost to a loud, needy moan.

Ban sucked his cock the way she knew he liked best, her tongue running over that delectable vein at the top, and then sliding to put more focus on the tip. She could feel and taste him leaking still, his flavor filling her with want. But she knew she had to be patient.

Astarion throbbed in her mouth and whimpered again. The trembling of his body told her that he was getting close to losing control, and she stopped her ministrations. “You can’t come,” she said, “Not until later. Like I said, this is only a taste.”

He managed to glare at her, but there was little heat in it. He swallowed and then spoke. “Then I won’t.” He couldn’t help but challenge her a little, however, lips curling as he continued. “But I’m sure you won’t be able to resist yourself, pet. You’ll want me to come.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Ever the brat, hm?” She playfully slapped a thigh. “Seems like you’re done playing, with that tone you just took.”

Ban pulled back, satisfied with her handiwork. Astarion’s ass was as far forward on the seat as possible, cock still rock hard and proudly jutting out from his hips. It was glistening, slick with her saliva, twitching at the loss of stimulation and the cold air rushing over it.

Astarion was still glaring at her, but he huffed in resignation. “Fine. I’ll…” he had to fight himself for a split second, “I’ll do better later, little love.”

Despite himself, he’d been enjoying her dominion over him immensely. As she pulled away, he exhaled roughly, knowing by her gaze that he had little choice but to wait. He wrapped a hand around his cock, feeling its velvety length throb in his grasp. He was momentarily tempted to just come this way, but he knew that if he waited, the reward would be all the sweeter. So instead he tucked himself in, buttoning up his trousers, realizing he didn’t really mind having to wait.

Ban watched this with dark amusement. “I finished my lunch,” she said, showing him her empty goblet. “But I wouldn’t mind tasting more food again, if you don’t mind.”

Astarion smiled. He didn’t mind at all. This, he could easily give her. As he buttoned up his shirt and called for the next course, they linked minds.

The rest of the meal was spent in companionable silence, the sharing of sensations taking precedence over anything else. Astarion made sure to chew slowly, savoring each morsel for her.

And if she could also read his deeper thoughts? If she could read how much he’d enjoyed having her take control and dismantle his ego?

Maybe he didn’t mind that very much, either.

Tonight could prove eventful if he could keep his wits about him, and he swore to all the gods that he would. He couldn’t afford not to.

Bringing his mind back to the present, Astarion watched as the guests started mingling and the wine started to flow. The Vampire Ascendant, dressed in his blood-red suit, stood away from everyone, near the ballroom door, waiting for his beloved.

[vodika-vibes]

hi!! i’m back on the wrecker train bc i love him soooooo much!!!

anyways i was hoping to request a fairytale AU with wrecker please! i really love the princess and the frog (disney movie) so could you write something using that with a gn reader? i would also love for this to have romance and a sprinkle of comedy please!

absolutely no rush for this also!

The Soldier and the Frog

Summary: You visit a psychic on a whim, thinking that it’ll just be a funny story to tell your family when you go home from your vacation. The last thing you expect is for her to turn you into a frog. Well, no, the very last thing you expect is for the curse to be contagious, though you learned that the hard way when Wrecker, a nice guy who wanted to help you, offered you a kiss to turn you back to normal…only to turn into a bullfrog himself.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1863

Warnings: None

Prompt: Princess and the Frog AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hihi! Thanks for your request. I'm not so sure about this one, because I didn't want to follow the movie exactly, so I made a few changes. But also, I'm struggling to focus for long periods of time. Pain is very distracting, lol. I hope you like it!

“This isn’t so bad,” Wrecker offers as he hops from a fallen log down to the ground, “I mean, it could be worse.”

“Speak for yourself. You’re at least big enough that people will notice you,” You grumble as you carefully hop down behind him, “I’m so small that I’ll get stepped on.”

Wrecker laughs, “I’m not going to let that happen.”

“You’re a nice guy, Wrecker, but you’re still a toad.”

“Bullfrog,” He corrects as he slows and waits for you to catch up, “Don’t be so glum, all we have to do is find this witch-doctor and he’ll definitely fix us up.”

You sigh, “Yeah, yeah. I know.” You pause, “I just feel bad. You were just trying to help me and now you’re cursed too.”

“Don’t worry about it. Better to be cursed together than having to deal with this on your own.” He glances towards the sky for a moment, what little that can be seen through the thick trees, “We should find someplace to take shelter for the night.”

You won’t admit it, but you’re grateful that he’s here. In all honesty, you’ve never been the best at dealing with crises, you tend to panic and forget everything that you’ve ever learned in your life. And this, right here, is a crisis if you’ve ever been in one.

Of course, you never received any lessons on what to do when you’re cursed by a fake psychic and are turned into a tree frog. It’s a rather noticeable hole in your education, now that you’re thinking about it.

Wrecker seems to know what to do, at least. Or, if he’s panicking, he’s not showing it.

He leads you over to a tree and you follow behind him, “Hey, Wrecker?”

The much larger frog pauses and turns to look at you, “What’s up?”

“How are you so calm about this? I would think that panic would be a normal reaction to being turned into a frog.” You say as you hurry to his side. 

“Well, I’m a soldier.”

You make a face, “What, and the army prepares you to be cursed?”

He laughs, “No. Not like that.” He grins at you, “They do, however, teach us that panic is the enemy. If you panic you die. So I don’t panic.”

“Well, that’s one of us, at least.” You say dryly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Wrecker lightly bumps you with his side, “Come on, it looks like there’s an opening at the base of the tree.”

He leads you over to the tree and investigates the hiding spot carefully, before allowing you to enter. Once he’s sure that you’re secure in the small opening, he squeezes in next to you, and rests his chin on the top of your head.

You think, for a moment, that you should be bothered by this. You barely know Wrecker. In fact, you’ve only known him for a couple of days, but you don’t think you’ve ever been so comfortable with another person in your life. 

“So,” Wrecker asks as rain starts falling from the sky, “We never really talked about how you ended up in this situation in the first place.”

You huff and rest your chin on your webbed hands, “It’s dumb.”

“Dumber than kissing a frog on the off chance of curing a curse.”

You laugh, “Okay, when you put it like that-”

His weight presses down on you slightly, though it’s comforting, rather than suffocating. “Come on, let’s hear it.”

“Alright, alright.” You pause, “So I came here on vacation. A ten day vacation to get away from everything. I saw the signs for a psychic and I thought it would be fun. A funny story to bring back to my family.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And, like, I’ve had such a hard time with relationships lately, so that’s what I asked about and…then I ended up like this.”

“Which psychic?”

“Sorry?”

“There are a lot of psychics in the area.” Wrecker clarifies, “Which one did you visit?”

“Oh.” You think for a moment, “Lady Violet, I think.”

He sucks in a breath, “That would explain it.”

“What?” You squirm to look at him.

“Well, Lady Violet has something of a reputation.” Wrecker offers, “She targets tourists. Odds are, she would have thrown you in a jar and then blackmailed your family for your release.”

“...oh.”

“How’d you escape?”

“I jumped out a window.” You admit sheepishly.

Wrecker laughs, “Clever.”

“I didn’t even think. I just panicked and jumped.” You add with a laugh of your own, “I…” You pause, “I feel really bad for getting you involved in this, but I’m also really glad that you’re here.”

“I’m glad that I’m here too. Plus, this will be an interesting story to share with my brothers.” He lightly nudges you with his head, “Come on, let’s get some sleep, we should reach the Witch-Doctor’s house tomorrow, assuming nothing interrupts us.”

You settle under him, “You know this Witch-Doctor?”

“Well, know is a bit strong of a word,” Wrecker allows, “But I know of him. He’s a decent sort. He’s worked with some of my brothers before.”

“So this magic thing is normal, then?”

“Not normal so much as not abnormal.” Wrecker corrects, “Now, stop your fretting. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

You believe him. How could you not?

Slowly you drift to sleep, feeling safe and secure with Wrecker pressed against you, even if you are both little more than frogs.

You wake several hours later, to the sound of Wrecker speaking with…someone. You blink bleary eyes and notice that you’re no longer in the tree where you fell asleep.

No, it looks like you’re in a house of some kind.

Surprised, you jump up to where you hear Wrecker’s voice. He glances at you and favors you with a small smile, before he focuses his attention on the man speaking to him.

“Awake at last,” The man, who looks more like an ancient troll, says kindly.

“Did you sleep well?” Wrecker asks as you walk over to him and peer up at the green skinned man.

“I think so?”

“Good.” He nods towards the man, “This is Yoda, he’s the witch-doctor that I was telling you about.”

“Master of my art, I am.” Yoda confirms, “Curious, this case is. Strong, is the pall of magic.”

“But you can help?” Wrecker asks.

“Yes, yes.” He hobbles away from the table that you and Wrecker are sitting on, going over to a wall of books, “Simple, this curse is. Easy to reverse.” He turns his gaze back towards you, “You are the vector?”

“I…what?”

“He’s asking if you were the one who was originally cursed,” Wrecker clarifies.

“Oh. Yes, that’s me.”

Yoda hums and turns back to the bookshelf, “Only a moment, this will take.” He pauses and carefully lifts you and sits you on a chair, before carrying Wrecker to another chair.

You watch as Yoda hobbles over to a work table, and mixes some items together, before he walks over to you and sprinkles something over your head. You’re vaguely aware of him doing the same thing to Wrecker, but then there’s the sensation of being lifted, and you squeak as you, now human again, fall off the chair.

A large hand appears in front of your face, and you look up at Wrecker, who’s grinning at you. He’s human again too.

Gratefully, you take his hand and allow him to hoist you to your feet.

“Thank you Master Yoda,” Wrecker says, “We appreciate you helping.”

“Happy to help, I am.” Yoda replies as he lightly pats Wreckers knee, and then motions for the pair of you to follow him.

He leads you through his home and pushes open a door, revealing a bedroom, “Um…what’s this?” You ask.

“Not safe to travel,” Yoda warns, “Frogs require less than Humans,”

You’re not sure you completely understand, but you get the basic idea. Essentially, you and Wrecker are going to be hit by a wall as the last couple of days come back to bite you.

“Thank you, Master,” You offer politely.

He smiles at you and lightly pats your hand, before he hobbles away, and you’re pretty sure he mumbles something about properly punishing his wayward apprentice, though you’re not positive. 

Wrecker ushers you into the room, and shuts the door behind him as you sit on the edge of the bed. There’s only one, though it’s a big enough bed for both you and Wrecker, not to mention three other people, if you had to guess.

“How are you feeling?” Wrecker asks as he sits next to you.

You consider his question seriously, “Honestly. Tired. How about you?”

“Same. Though I suppose I’m not surprised.” Wrecker moves so that he’s stretched out in the middle of the bed, his eyes closing as he sinks into the soft bed, and you watch him for a moment. 

“Hey, Wrecker?”

“Hm?”

“What happens next?”

He cracks open a single eye, “What do you mean?”

You hesitate. Honestly, the idea of being separated from him makes something painful lurch in your chest. “Just…what happens now?” You try to clarify lamely. 

He’s thoughtful for a moment, “Well. We rest and recover from our ordeal. And then we go back to the city and you go home.” There’s a frown on his handsome face as he says that. “Although. I’m not sure I like that.” He admits.

“Which part?”

“The ‘you leaving’ part.” He smiles at you, “I’d prefer it if you stayed.”

You watch him for a moment, “You hardly know me, Wrecker.”

“We just spent a week together as frogs.” He points out, “We’ve avoided crocs and birds and frog hunters. We’ve bonded.”

You laugh quietly, and kick your shoes off, before you crawl into the middle of the bed next to him, dropping your head on his shoulder, “Well, I’m glad that you’re thinking the same thing as me.” You admit.

His arm folds around you, and you feel, more than see, him sigh in relief. And then you feel warm lips against your forehead, “We’ll make it work. Together. Just like everything else this last week.”

You shift so that you’re able to see his face properly, “I’d like that.” You admit. And then, quickly, before you lose your nerve, you lean in and press your lips against his, before you pull back.

He stares at you, stunned. And you’re about to pull away from him, only for his hand to press against the back of your head and pull you down into another, deeper, more proper kiss.

“This is much better than kissing a frog,” Wrecker mumbles against your lips, before pulling you back into the kiss carefully maneuvering you so that you’re laying on top of him.

And that’s about when the exhaustion slams into the both of you. You tuck your head under Wrecker’s chin, and he folds himself around you, and you both drift off to sleep.

You have no way of knowing what’s going to happen from here on out. But so long as you and Wrecker are together, you’re not worried.

[johnslittlespoon]

okay listen feral bikerider gale/past catching up to him/etc etc etc anon here and can I just say. thank you. I’m not overly interested in the actual violence or gang-shit or whatever. when I first read about the bikerider au all I could think about was sons of anarchy (idk if you’ve watched it, but I watched three seasons with my dad and it’s all just. gang conflict after gang conflict after gang conflict with some romance sprinkled on top and that’s not. really my thing) and I was not into it. at all. then your yapping (affectionate) converted me. hearing that it won’t be all weapon smuggling and, idk, drugs or smth is actually so reassuring lol

and!!! obviously it’s your fic/au, I’m definitely not here to try to influence you in any way whatsoever!!! I’m super excited to read it no matter what because your writing is just. lovely. I check in pretty much every morning like I’m reading the papers lmao

doing something semi-stupid in your past feels like kind of on brand for everyone, even though it might not be illegal for most. and maybe it wasn’t illegal for Gale, either, bro I am not a very good writer, I’ll leave the plotting to someone else.

but I’ll always love the idea of Gale being a little feral. or a lot feral. like John getting hurt in a bikerider au tickles my brain the same way John punching a German guard in canon centric fics does. Nevermind the guard, I just need the fallout. the angsty fallout.

John and Gale coming back home, and Gale sitting him down in the bathroom to very, very carefully patch him up (and, listen, the other guys probably just roughed him up a little. he probably got away with minor bruises and some scrapes), and Gale being insanely worried that he has scared John. John on the other hand is worried for Gale, because what if it happens again? What if the police finds out? John being worried that he somehow messed up.

and, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t mind reading feral gale beating the shit out of people. It’s just not something I want to read a full fic of.

finally, because I just need to add this, too: Gale’s knuckles being split and bleeding and John so very carefully cleaning them up, pressing gentle kisses to the cuts when he has to scrape the dried blood up to get it properly clean. Gale not being sure what he did to deserve John, being so sweet and gentle and caring.

okay, over and out 🫡 sorry for not being that clear in the other ask, I blame. idk, sleep deprivation. and sorry for making this so long, idk what I’m on about half the time and my meds are doing shit to my brain. I love your blog and your writing just. makes my fucking days. I’d wait forever for the next chapter of dog coded Bucky ❤️

YIPPIEE more leaving!bikeriders au >:) hii i meant to get back to this SO long ago, feels like good timing now with the bikeriders theatre day approaching! i'm assuming you're the anon from this post <3

i have THOUGHTS. aka this got lengthy oops, shocker. a bit of plotting and then like 2k words of drabble below the cut lmfaoo

the proper drabble will be further down, but first of all, very big agree!! and relieved i'm not the only one who feels this way omg. i haven't watched SOA for this reason specifically– i just don't have much interest in the conflict/violence–heavy plot stuff (which is ironic considering i'm excited for the bikeriders movie, but i think it's pretty clear that's because of the lovely cast lol since i don't care for bikes/cars in the slightest oops). HONOURED that my yapping converted you tho LOL i swear if something is character focussed, it can make 99% of topics at least somewhat appealing!

and please don't worry omg i don't feel influenced/pressured etc, i loveee bouncing ideas and brainrot back and forth for my aus, it's sm fun and i love trying to incorporate things other people like/suggest when i can!! <3 but omg i will weep thank you so much wtf?? :'))

for sure; even the most stoic/'put together' characters surely have done some not very bright things in their lives. i'm toying with a couple backstories for gale to establish what might catch up to him or cause conflict, but i'm gonna wait to decide until i see the movie because i have a feeling i'll get some good inspo from benny's story!

honestly it's the part i'll have to put the most effort into really thinking out in terms of plot to make it flow naturally, because all the relationship focussed things kinda write themselves as i brainrot. but i'm 99% sure i'm gonna write the fic from john's pov because it'll keep a lot of gale a mystery to the readers as well, and therefore save me from having to flesh out certain things until necessary lmfaoo

and yeah!! it's not always the events themselves that hit the hardest– it's the fact that the character could be feral enough for them to happen in the first place, and it's the outcome/fallout that's most fun to write/read (to me).

feral gale is so fun to explore in general because of how different it is to most of what we're shown of him in mota, so it's like a challenge to keep him feeling in character while also picking out the little parts of him that could be pushed to be that way. and of course the classic whump of the one person gale cares about and tries so hard to protect getting hurt because of him? endless angst possibilities.

i dig what you said, about john 'just' being roughed up a little, because i think with whatever backstory i end up forming, it's not like the 'bad guys' are gonna be some mastermind criminals extorting gale for something life or death lol. it's probably gonna be a bunch of rough and tumble biker men with some long lasting beef between their clubs, hitting gale where they know it'll hurt the worst: a loved one.

i bet you anything (depending on how plotting goes LOL) that they don't actually even intend to mess john up to the extent they do; i bet john runs his mouth and makes some sorta escape attempt because as terrified as he is, all he can think about is how gale's gonna obviously track him down and he's more worried about what the guys are planning to do to gale when he shows up. in his naive mind, if he can get out and get to a phone or something, he can stop everything.

ofc the escape attempt is futile because it's one gangly college kid vs a couple of grown ass men, and john gets banged up in the process, seeing as being tackled to the ground with your wrists bound behind your back doesn't leave you with anything to protect your face from concrete with, and maybe then he gets a solid fist to the face to scare him out of pulling anymore shit (it sure works).

and just the act of taking john/putting him danger alone would have gale ready to wring these men out by their necks, but when he shows up and sees his baby bleeding? and he can't tell how bad he's hurt, from where he's lurking around the corner scoping out the situation? he'd see red and be pretty dang close to saying fuck it and going in there without a plan, but the fear of john getting hurt in the process would stop him, and he doesn't feel like going down for murder.

somehow he picks off the guys one by one with a generous amount of flying fists and y'know, maybe a bit of knife–work if necessary, idk, future plotting lol, and tells them they're good as dead if they pull anything like this again. that the club will be keeping an eye out for them, that they're a buncha cowards, and they can come talk to him face to face like men, next time. you get it.

and then finally, obligatory wound care ofc <3 easily top three tropes ever ugh. gale gets john the fuck out of there and to the safety of his truck, methodical and vigilant, and only then does his guarded expression drop, and his hands are shaking just as hard as john's are when he cups john's face in his hands to look him over. john gives him a shell–shocked "'m fine, gale" and hates how guilty gale looks, because there's not even the tiniest part of john that blames gale for any of it; john knew what he was getting into (to an extent) with gale.

but regardless, gale's shaken up, terrified by how much worse things could've gone and how much danger john could've been in, but also terrified of how deeply he feels for john; probably some backstory there about gale seeing someone he loved get hurt, or almost get hurt, swearing he'd never bring someone into his life again because of it, etc, and then in waltzes stubborn, loud–mouthed john egan.

but selfishly (or what he feels is selfish), gale's also terrified that this might be the final nail in the coffin for john. he knows he's not the easiest to be with (even though john thinks the exact same thing about himself lol silly boys) and he knows john's more patient than he deserves, and could find someone his own age with a normal life in a heartbeat with his sweet disposition and charming pretty boy looks. and he knows john's well within his rights to walk away from their relationship now, to be scared of the future, to decide it's too much, and part of gale would be relieved to not have to worry, even if he'd miss john like he's lost half of himself.

it's real quiet when they're back home and john's sitting on the bathroom counter, gale between his legs, patching up his face so so gently, as if each brush of a cotton swab is an apology. both of them have lots to say but neither know how to say it; john hates knowing gale's probably shouldering all the blame and he doesn't know how to reassure him in a way that'll get through to him, but he can't handle the silence. probably makes a weak joke about how "y'shoulda seen the other guy" and doesn't even get a smile out of gale.

ends up wrapping his legs around gale's hips to pull him closer but just gets a huffed out, frustrated "john" as gale swats his ankles away, and it's not that john's trying to make light of what happened, he just doesn't know how to talk about something like that, regardless of how good he and gale have gotten at communicating.

john probably gets a bit frustrated, because gale’s already so protective over him as is, which he likes, but now gale’s treating him like glass, like he’s scared to hurt him further just by touching him, and john does not like that. it feels like progress undone, like he's back at the beginning of their relationship when gale wouldn't let him in or open up to him or trust that he was capable of making his own decisions.

so when gale's done bandaging him up with practiced, meticulous hands, john doesn't give gale time to react, just slides off the counter and snatches the little first aid kit from his hands and says "okay, your turn." and it's obvious gale wants to protest, but john catches him so off guard that he stunned into silence, lets john guide him until he's leaning against the counter.

john's hands still tremble when he takes gale's hands in his, and he tries to steady them because he doesn't want gale to see how freaked out he is, but he diligently cleans away the blood around his knuckles, feeling gale's eyes on him the whole time but not looking away from his task, scared he'll shatter the moment if he does.

if he were to look up though, he'd see gale's watching him in complete awe, struck by the fiercest wave of adoration, drawing a blank while he tries to search for what he could've possibly done in this life or another to have someone like john come (crashing, stumbling, tornado–ing) into his life.

and if we wanna make it extra yowch–y and sappy and feelings heavy: as john's brushing his lips over the cuts, dusting featherlight kisses across his knuckles, john's throat goes tight and he feels his own overwhelming rush of emotions and his heart thumps and he blurts out: "i love you."

it's the first time one of them says it. and it’s a disguised i love you even so. i love you despite. i love you anyway. i love you because. months worth of reassurances wrapped into three words, and even with what john's just gone through, he's still scared when it slips out, looks up at gale with wide, searching eyes, trying to gauge whether he's overstepped or said the wrong thing.

gale's just trying to catch his breath, feeling like the wind's been knocked out of him by the admission. half of him wants to shake his head, gently push john's hands away, tell him "no you don't, hun." a tiny part of him wants to be cruel about it, to laugh the honesty off and ensure john will walk out that door far, far away from the mess that gale is, and not turn back, safe from harm.

but the other half of him, the half that holds his heart, evidently, has him cupping john's open, sincere face in his hands, looking down into bright, fearful, hopeful blue eyes, and murmuring "i love you more."

and john blushes as hard as he did the first time they'd kissed, as hard as he did the first time he was laid out in gale's bed, as if he and gale haven't said a million things much more fluster–inducing since they met. gets all shy, pouts, looks down and mumbles "that's not fair," and that finally gets the first smile out of gale all day, maybe even a breath of a laugh.

they love each other your honour </333

this got way out of hand but what else is newwww i'm so weak for these two. so so weak. i keep saying it but MAN i'm so excited to write this fic this summer omg :')

and DON'T BE SORRY!! it's so chill omg, you were perfectly clear (but i'm glad you elaborated and gave me an excuse to yap about them some more hehehe) and never apologize for long messages, i loveee reading the brainrot and hearing ur thoughts and getting to brainrot back. and thank you AGAIN sobs 😭💗 that makes MY days and ur way too kind fml. i hope the wait hasn't been too long LOL on the chapters AND a response to this ask!! tysm again mwah