#but now it’s just a concoction of stuff n i don’t know how i feel about it

[star-girl69]

Your Girl

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: late at night, you and clarisse get to know one another.

a/n: ykw i dont even know what i write anymore just enjoy it i truly just listen to the wind oh my god

Your Girl - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: im sorry im obsessed w the nightmare trope, friends to lovers MEYOW, HURT COMFORT, clarisse just wants to KISS, light tension, very light and fluffy tho…. not a lot of angst tbh, POSSESSIVE CLARISSE I SCREAMED, mutual pining YESSSSS, they’re in love but they don’t think the other could be in love w them, clarisse knows what she wants and sets out to get it, monsters- again it’s a drakon bc i’m evil, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of weapons, weed and smoking, substance abuse idk if it’s addiction my health teacher would be so disappointed, shotgunning weed, idk what’s happening honestly we’re all along for the ride, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You don’t know where Clarisse gets it from, but she has good weed.

They’re these perfectly little rolled blunts, with some sort of amazing concoction inside- you can’t even be bothered to care that it’s bad for you. Not when it makes you feel so good, not when it makes everything else fade away.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Sitting in the woods, leaning against a rock covered in moss, staring up at the stars. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you’re just here next to each other. But tonight, you think you took one too many hits, so you’re feeling a little sentimental.

“I would fucking die without you, Clarisse.”

She snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“No, no, not just like- because you’re so strong, and stuff, but because of this fucking weed. I can’t sleep without it, y’know.”

She hums.

“And, like, you need sleep to live, or else your brain will like eat itself, or something ridiculous. Did you know that?”

She looks at you, mouth curved into an unimpressed smile, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t, and I care so much. Thanks for telling me, leech.”

“That’s mean,” you huff.

“Then stop leeching off of me and stealing my weed.”

Clarisse always looks so pretty in the moonlight. You would never admit that to anyone, but in the dark when your head is all hazy- you know she’s pretty. She’s beautiful, if you’re being honest, but she’s also your dealer- you can’t risk upsetting her. But still, sometimes you’re not sure how she isn’t a daughter of Aphrodite.

But you know better than anyone else that she gets everything from Ares, like she’s a carbon copy of him.

She gets her precision, her strength, her tactical mind, her rolling storm of emotions from him.

Except, there’s a softness in her. Only here, in the moonlight. You don’t know if it’s you or the weed, but you like to think it’s you. You like to think that Clarisse likes you as much as you like her, not just tolerates you for your mediocre company.

She’s sitting with one foot planted onto the ground, hair pulled back all messy, her arm balancing on her knee. The joint is held out conveniently towards you, lazily in between her fingers, so you flip yourself onto your stomach and reach out with open lips.

She smiles and flips the joint around, placing it onto your lips. Your close your eyes and your mouth, breathing in deeply. Gods, does it taste horrible, but you love it too much.

You pull back and breathe out the smoke.

“You love me, and my weed-stealing tendencies.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” she rolls her eyes.

—-

Clarisse probably trains more than any other demigod at camp. Thirty minutes after dinner, like clockwork, you can find her heading to the field where all the sparring dummies live.

Clarisse is probably your only true friend at camp. You stick to yourself for the most part, hang out with your siblings, but besides for that it’s Clarisse. And she’s the same way. She hangs out with her siblings, and then you. Of course- everyone at Camp knows her name and her ruthless reputation.

You’re unknown, she’s known. She’s the best fighter you’ve ever seen, you’re mediocre, compared to her. She helps you at every turn, you’re the one getting helped by her. She’s mean to everyone, and you’re kind to whoever happens upon you.

You force each other to bring out the other sides of yourself no one gets to see. Clarisse gets to be soft, you get to be loud and annoying. You’re friends, but you both get something out of it.

She’s your friend, your dealer, your savior.

If the first day you came to camp, running through the woods with a drakon hot on your heels and your mouth split open into a scream- maybe Clarisse and her siblings wouldn’t have turned around and noticed the drakon.

Of course, Clarisse was the one who actually killed it, and she was the one who hoisted you up from where you had collapsed, breathing heavily. She was the one who actually made sure you weren’t hurt while your satyr protector panicked about having to face the Cloven Council.

She was the one who found you in the middle of the night, that drakon hissing in your ear, she was the one who gave you the claw she had pried from it’s dead body, she was the one who told you it was dead and nothing could hurt you in Camp.

“Clarisse!” you call, running towards her. Most campers like to wind down after dinner, so the field is empty.

“Leech,” she says when you reach her, leaning her spear against a dummy and stretching her arms above her head.

You always come everyday. You ask her the same question.

“Do you have it?”

She digs under her armor, pulling out the small cloth containing the blunt. “You would probably go insane if I didn’t.”

You feel calmer just looking at it. You smile sheepishly up at her.

“You know I can’t sleep without it, Clarisse.”

She looks away, stuffing it back under her armor, against her stomach.

“Maybe you should try and skip one night.”

You scoff. “I don’t feel like pulling an all-nighter, Clarisse.”

She nods, but her face is riddled with concern. “Okay, angel,” she mutters, so low you can barely hear it. But you do. You hear her call you angel, and you turn away instead of slamming your lips into hers.

—-

After that first night, you slept with that claw tight into your hand. And it was fine. You still had the occasional nightmare, but every demigod had those. But the older you got, the more monsters you learned about, the more comfortable you got with being a demigod- the more the nightmares came. Knowing the drakon was dead didn’t help, and the nightmares got worse and worse until Clarisse found you again one night.

You had drifted apart from her. She had her life and you had hers, but ever since you’ve been bonded by the nights.

She wrapped her arms around you and let you cry, mumbling about how she was the strongest demigod at camp, and there was the barrier, and nothing would ever get through to you.

She was soft in that moment. And you could tell she regretted it, because she ignored you for the next few days until one of her siblings pushed you to the ground. She appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his shirt, yelling that if he ever touched you again, she’d fucking kill him.

While he sputtered and asked why she cared about some stupid weak girl, she helped you up and said: “She’s my girl.”

And since that day 3 months ago, you’ve always been her girl. Neither of you really knew what that meant, except you liked being around each other and you liked this transaction. Clarisse liked owning something. You liked belonging to someone.

That’s what this entire friendship is about- convenience.

So, that’s why Clarisse being concerned about you makes you feel weird. You care about Clarisse, she cares about you- but only enough that she doesn’t want to see you hurt by someone else. But who is she to stop you when you’re the one hurting yourself?

You arrive at the rock in the forest, fingers twisting together. Clarisse is already there, lighter and blunt set out on the ground, polishing her spear.

“Hey,” she says, looking down.

“Hi.”

You sit down, eager to get your hands on the weed and forget about the way Clarisse’s concern confuses you.

You stare at your shaking hand.

Gods, are you really that nervous?

Clarisse’s eyes are sharp, she notices everything, she processes it much faster than you can ever dream to. It’s why she’s so quick in battle. She’s a well oiled machine and you’re the one job she’s assigned to do- she knows you by heart after all these nights.

Her spear is pushed off her lap. “Why are you shaking?” she says, voice low and raspy, her hand cupping yours.

“Low blood sugar,” you lie. “I’ll grab a snack before I go to bed.”

She says nothing, but you watch her hesitate as she grabs the blunt and the lighter from the ground, you watch her hesitate again as she goes to light it. But she lights it, she sticks it in between her fingers and holds it out to you.

“C’mere,” she mutters, and you lean forward and let her place the blunt on your parted lips. You breathe in, only for a few seconds, and you could go for a lot longer.

“I wasn’t done,” you huff as she takes her own drag.

“My weed,” she shrugs. “I decide how much you get.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She laughs. She laughs and it makes your stomach twist in such a good way you can’t feel like this anymore, you can’t remember what she does to you, what she called you.

You reach out blindly for the blunt, biting your lip as you practically climb on top of her.

“Clarisse!” you yell, but she seems to find your desperation hilarious, holding the blunt out as far as she can. “I fucking hate you, oh my Gods.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she says, pushing you off of her. You realize you’re laying on your stomach in between her legs, one hand planted to the ground around her leg, the other reaching out.

She leans back and takes another drag. You roll your eyes and move to attack her, but she’s too fast, sitting up and holding your hand down, her other hand grabbing your chin. She breathes out the smoke right into your lips that are parted in shock, smiling as you stare right into her amused eyes.

She leans back while you sit there stupidly on top of her, blowing out the smoke. “That- that’s- I hate you, did I mention that?”

“You did,” she muses. “But we both know you’re lying.”

You look at her, at her wide smile, at the look in her eyes. You want nothing more than to be her girl- her girl in the way that she’ll kiss your head, tell you about all the things you’ll never do, she’ll lay down with you in a bed of soft pillows. Her girl in the way the reason she’s soft in the moonlight isn’t the weed, it’s because of you. Her girl in the way you can run to her, the way you do now, but with the added connotation of love.

You grab the joint, and she lets you, watching intently as you breathe in and blow out the smoke. She has no right to be worried over you. Not when you’re the one making the choice to waste away your youth. And especially when you’re not her girl- not in the way you want to be.

—-

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” she hums.

You sit back against the rock. Normally, you would have been here 20 minutes ago.

You didn’t catch her after dinner, and you stayed firmly in your bed until it all got to be too much. You’re terrified of sleeping, of the nightmares that will come- but for some reason, the weed just puts you at such ease that you don’t have any nightmares.

You didn’t want to be near Clarisse tonight. Not after yesterday, not after the way she’s been making you feel, and the fact that you know she could never really like you. Why would she? You are the stupid weak girl who gets pushed over. You run from drakon’s and can’t even sleep because of nightmares.

Clarisse is fiercely protective of those she loves, but you’re too much work.

You wanted to go one night. One night without the weed, and prove to her and yourself that you don’t need it. You’re not that weak.

But you couldn’t.

You sit down, she looks at your tense shoulders and doesn’t tease you, just hands you the blunt. You mumble something of a thank you, looking up at the stars, shoulders relaxing after a few more breaths.

“I, uh, I tried to skip. Tonight, I mean. I tried not to come.” It’s embarrassing to admit this. You’re so scared of the nightmares that even if it’s a placebo effect, you come back to this clearing every night.

“But you couldn’t?” she asks.

“I couldn’t,” you affirm, staring at the ground.

“Well, you can’t just go cold turkey, dummy. You have to wean yourself off of it. Do you not remember, like, any of those nicotine patch ads?” she laughs. “You’ve got a good memory, you remember.”

“Shut up, meanie,” you mumble, raising the joint to your lips. She stops you.

“Ah-ah. Starts now. Make it a good one, ‘cause that’s your last, baby.”

“Fine,” you mumble, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You breathe in for a long time, tempted to go a little longer, but Clarisse reaches over and pinches your cheek. “Okay!” you yell, throwing the joint back to her.

She laughs and raises it to her own lips, taking in another long drag before putting it out.

You look at her, silent question in the air. She shrugs.

“Been meaning to slow down for a while, why not do it together?”

“Yeah,” you hum, looking back towards the stars. “Oh, hey, Ares is out tonight.” She looks over.

“Yeah,” she muses. “Fuckin’ Ares.”

“It’s still beautiful,” you say, stars in your eyes. “You have to think about it the way mortals do. They don’t know the Gods put them up there- they think it’s just some random spotting of stars, they think they made patterns out of it. Isn’t that beautiful? To make patterns and people out of stars? To look for humanity where there is none?”

“I never thought about it like that,” Clarisse says.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you ask. You can feel her eyes on you.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Beautiful.”

—-

The next two weeks goes by the same. You don’t catch Clarisse after dinner, but you come every night, you smoke a little less, she teases you and gets closer to you. She gets bolder and bolder and you get shyer and shyer.

You still feel like too much. If she just lets you prove this to her and to yourself, the maybe you can lean against the rock with her and flirt back.

—-

You meet Clarisse by the rock. She’s still standing, waiting for you. She takes the last of the blunt you’ve been using for the last few days and lights it, taking one small drag before she flips it around and holds it out to you.

“C’mon,” she guides. “Not too much, I’ll stop you.”

You feel kind of like a baby as Clarisse puts the joint on her lips, fingertips against your face to steady her hand. You breathe in for just a second, tempted for more, but she takes it away. You look up at her, fingers twisted together.

“Clarisse, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

She leaves the blunt to blow out in the wind in the natural dip of the rock, your own little ashtray at the top. Of course, Clarisse will come and collect it the next morning- you don’t want to upset the nymphs and satyrs in the forest.

“It’s a good idea,” she affirms. “Don’t worry, okay?”

You’re scared. You remember being chased by the drakon even now, you remember it’s snarls, you remember it’s claws moving through the air. You remember your heart pumping in your ears, you remember the stones in your stomach that were supposed to be fear.

You feel like Kronos, but what you swallowed wouldn’t just sit idly inside of you- no, your fear would rip through your stomach and your skin and burst out of you in an explosion of blood, like some sick joke of a firework.

She grabs your wrists. Clarisse is soft, here, in the moonlight.

“Hey, it’s okay. I-I was thinking, I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay, but why don’t you sleep in my cabin?”

You shift on your feet. “Clar, no, I can’t ask you to do that. What if we get caught? And I-I- it’s embarrassing, what if your siblings see? What if they tell everyone?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes and tugs you closer from where you had subconsciously started to drift away.

“They already think we’re dating, anyways. Besides, Y/N, no one cares. Most of my siblings have secrets anyways,” she smiles.

“Wh- we’re dating? They think- why?”

Her face is deadpan. “‘Cause you’re my girl.”

You pull back. “Clarisse.”

“What?” she says, slightly incredulous. “You are. You’re about the only person I can tolerate at this camp. I hope you know that. I know I can be horrible, but really, I… care about you a lot.”

You look in her eyes. There’s no lies, no insincerity.

“I know, Clarisse. And I… I appreciate it so much. You’re, like, my only friend,” you smile.

She smiles back but it’s tight. “Friend, yeah.”

You put your arms around her neck and hug her. It’s the first time you’ve ever really hugged her, and her arms wrap tight around your waist. Her mouth presses against your hair. You let yourself be her girl in this moment.

Clarisse is your best friend. She cares about you. Of course she helps you with this. She’s your best friend. Of course you let her.

—-

You do follow Clarisse back to the Ares cabin, back to her bed- and she points to one of her siblings you can’t see in the dark, but there are two figures in the bed. She smiles and you stifle a laugh.

You know better than anyone else that big bad Ares kids are like a marshmallow on the inside. They act all tough, and they are pretty tough, but there’s a soft spot inside of them only unlocked by one person with the right key.

You notice her sibling has their arm around the other person. You wonder if Clarisse will wrap her arm around you like that too.

Clarisse climbs into her bed, opening the covers for you. The beds at Camp are twin sized, but you can fit two people on them if you’re close together. You don’t hesitate, not anymore, not when you have one chance to pretend you’re really hers.

You lay on your side, facing her, hands tucked up by your chest. Her eyes meet yours, she brushes her curls out of her face.

“Good?” she asks. You nod, breathing out.

“‘M fine,” you say.

She rubs your arm, cold from the dark night. “Just relax, okay? Just close your eyes, Y/N.”

You do, you close your eyes, but you’re so fucking terrified you can’t.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, a plead. For what, you don’t know. You want a million things from her in this moment. It’s not fair of you to ask her, you know this, but it doesn’t stop you from asking.

Your breath comes fast, your nails dig into your palms, but you keep your eyes screwed shut like sleep will just magically hit you like a train.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse says, firm. “Why are you so scared?” she whispers.

“They’re so real,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“They’re not.”

She wraps her arms around you so tight you feel like she’s crushing you. But it keeps you in the moment. If you focus on the way her skin feels against yours, on the way her thumb brushes your shoulder blade, her fingertips scratching the back of your scalp.

If you focus, if you imagine all the thing you and her will never do, if you imagine being her girl, then you can fall asleep.

You dream of her lips pressing against your head, her voice in your ear, calling you her angel.

—-

You wake up, Clarisse still wrapped around you, and slowly detangle yourself. Drool pools at the corner of her lips, and you have to bite back a giggle as you slip out of the blankets and into the warm riding sun.

She looks just as pretty in the sunlight as she does in the moonlight. You feel like a lover slipping out of a bed of secrets. But you’re not. You’re just a friend slipping out of a bed of rumors.

She looks so peaceful, you can’t help but wonder if she always sleeps like this- or if having you next to her had the same effect on her sleep as it did to yours.

—-

There’s a loud knock at your cabin door.

There’s only you and a few of your siblings in here, putting the final touches on their outfits for the day, grabbing the last items they need. One of your younger siblings open the door, and you look around the pillars- maybe it’s a counselor doing some sort of inspection? You take a glance around your bunk- but it’s all clean.

Your eyes meet hers.

“Out,” she says, roughly. She looks at you so intently you almost wonder if she’s talking to you. But when you siblings stand there in shock, she looks away. “Well? I said get out, dummies.”

They exchange looks with you, but eventually shuffle out, not wanting to risk Clarisse and her wrath.

She shuts the door behind your last sibling.

“Being tough has it perks, huh?” she smiles, leaning against the door. Your shirt isn’t even pulled on properly, one of your bra straps is already falling down your shoulder from the act of putting your shirt on, and you’re staring at her with your mouth wide open.

She looks you up and down.

“C-Clarisse, what-?”

She walks over to you, frown etched onto her face.

“I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Oh,” you say. “I… I thought you would have wanted me gone-”

“Don’t care. If you’re going to sleep with me then you need to wake me up and tell me you’re leaving.”

She rolls her eyes at your confusion. She sits on your bed and then gestures animatedly for you to sit down.

“Did you not sleep well?” she fusses. “What’s up with you this morning?”

“I slept great, Clarisse, it’s just- why are you here?”

“To tell you that you can’t leave,” she deadpans. “I mean, you spend all night shaking in my arms, terrified, and then I wake up and you’re not there? I almost killed someone. You’re lucky I decided to check here first, Y/N.”

She laughs. She laughs like it’s so funny.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause you’re my girl,” she shrugs. “And-”

“Clarisse, what does that mean?”

You know what you want. And you’re not dumb, but you’re the only friend Clarisse really has- what did you have to compare it to? You’ve been thinking about it in your head, rolling it around like a diamond- each side reflects something you want from her. Her love, her protection, her touch, her time, her.

She plays with her fingers. “It means… I like touching you. I like protecting you. I like being near you. I like your voice and your face.”

She stares at you blankly, like she’s recounting a grocery list, waiting for an affirmative “yes, I heard you.” But all you can do is stare in shock, trying to make your brain catch up with your heart- Clarisse likes your face. Clarisse feels the same way you do. You can be her girl, and you’re not too much for her, you’re not just friends.

“Oh, fuck it,” she mumbles. She places her hand on your face and pecks your lips. “That’s what it means, okay? I’m, like, embarrassingly in love with you, if you haven’t noticed.”

Clarisse is so blunt and forward it makes your head spin.

She stares into your eyes, searching them for something other than shock and confusion.

“Okay,” she says. Shuffling back. You can tell she’s hurt and embarrassed, but her face reveals nothing other than faux confidence and indifference. “I’ll go, I guess-”

“Bitch,” you mumble, slamming your lips onto hers.

It feels so overwhelmingly right and fills you with such a calmness that weed could never compare to. If you were dependent on the joints, then one taste and you’re addicted to Clarisse. She kisses you back with just as much ferocity, throwing your arms around her neck, trying to swallow you whole with her mouth as she grabs your neck with one hand, your face with the other.

It’s months of tension and wanting, lips touching through the passing of a joint, all of it coming down to this moment that feels so bad, so sinful- surely the Gods must frown upon loving someone this much. You would never pray to any of them again if it meant Clarisse would keep kissing you like this.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both smiling wide, leaning into her palm, hands playing with the curls at the base of her neck. You feel like a giddy school girl. You feel like a lover discovering something wildly new and unknown, promising to keep it secret, sealing it with a kiss of pure fire.

“That was such a mean way to confess to someone,” you say. “Just bitchy. Brass and blunt- harsh, even.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pressing her face against yours.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I know you’re a big softie who drools in her sleep.” She pulls away and glares at you.

���I don’t fucking drool, Y/N. You’re seeing things.”

You fake frown, bringing her closer to you. “Such a horrible thing to say to your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend?” she breathes, swollen lips parting like she’s aching to kiss you again.

“Your girlfriend,” you affirm, staring straight into her eyes.

You sunk more into becoming a demigod and all it got you was nightmares and a fear of sleeping. But the more you sunk into being her girl, the more you sunk into loving her and being loved.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from. Certainly not from her father. She didn’t learn to kiss your head from him. She didn’t learn how to hold you, how to call you hers, how to whisper in your ear from Ares.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from, but it’s good.

—-

SHOUTOUT TO clarisse “cause you’re my girl” la rue LOVE YOUR POSSESSIVE ASS!!!!!!!!

—-

clarisse when y/n smokes weed: oh so pretty……

clarisse when y/n can only fall asleep bc of her arms or her weed: my girl fr……..

clarisse when y/n: oh my wonderful perfect angel

—-

y/n: BITCH

clarisse: YOURE SO HOT FUCK

—-

where did clarisse get her weed from you may ask? me that’s where she got it from i ripped through the fabric of reality to give it to her to make this happen actually and you’re welcome

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk

[sturn5iolo]

BECOMING THIS

synopsis: you and matt broke up and now your slowly losing yourself, and becoming someone you hate.

pairing: ex! matt sturniolo x f!reader

warnings: angst (not really) , drinking / drugs , use of y/n (i’m sorry)

you grab another plastic red cup, filing it with random alcohol siting on the counters not even daring to look at what they are. taking the mixed concoction, chugging the whole thing in seconds. you feel the burn go down your throat as you stumble forward onto the cold counter of a strangers house. 

a few hours before, your friends had to beg you to come to this party. of course when they asked you were high off your mind and you agreed.

you feel your friend ava come up behind you, “hey do you wanna come sit with me, you don’t look too good..” she spoke in your ear.

“noooo im fine let me do what i want.” you slurred out to her, pouring yourself another drink. ava walked away not wanting to budge anymore.

you move your body to a couch nearby. a brunette boy sat on the farthest side of the couch, you sit down a few inches away from him. he had a joint in between his lips and a lighter in one of his hands, you watch him from the corner of your eye.

he takes one long drag before pulling it away from his lips, suddenly as he blows the smoke out he turns and faces you, “you wanna hit?” he asks. you scoot closer to him while slurring out a “okay..”

the unknown boy moves the joint from his lips to yours, watching closely as you inhale the smoke. after a few long hits and passing the joint back and forth, you start coughing, feeling the alcohol and weed start to mix together and make you cross faded.

while sitting with the boy, your other friend gia comes running towards you and grabbed your arm, “there you are! i was looking all over for you,” she yells out loud to you over the music, pulling you away.

as you get pulled around someone bumps into you, making you stumble backwards a bit. it was matt.

“oh my bad i didn-” he starts but cuts himself off as he looks at your face. “y/n.”

your lips form a straight line as you nod. matt takes in your bloodshot eyes and immediately understands what is up, “are you fucking high right now?”

you scoff at him and giggle, “none of your business.” you say walking outside but matt follows you, “uhm actually yes it is.” he defends.

feeling the cold air hit your body was a relief, “how matt we broke up like two months ago?” you question, still having the weed and alcohol in your system barely processing this conversation.

“because y/n, you always hated stuff like that! you would try convincing people not to drink or smoke and here you are!” matt says to you. he knows exactly why your doing all this, and it’s because of him. he’s the one who broke your heart.

“i don’t understand the problem matt.” you bluntly replied. “the problem is this! you becoming this! i know we’re broken up but i can’t live knowing this is happening.” he cried out to you.

you run your hands through your frizzy hair, “well that’s too bad matt. your going to have to.” you smile, walking off into the darkness with just your phone in hand.

a/n : this is so horrible but i’m posting it anyways erm first fic on this account 🥲👏

[constellationguy]

Another perspective

Episode six

"Text: regular talking

'Text': regular thinking

"Text": Saiki talking telepathically

'Text': Saiki thinking

Previous episode

ATTENTION! You might want to rewatch episode six of The Disastrous Life of Saiki K before reading to fully understand the events.

Summary: Episode 6 in L/N Y/N's perspective.

Today Y/N was preparing for movie night with Kusuo. Y/N knew that today, Saiki was going to spend his allowance on coffee jelly so they decide to make a couple different cookies instead.

Kurumi always loved their cake-box cookies, Kuniharu likes white-chocolate macadamia nut, Kusuo like double chocolate cookies and Y/N just liked eating what they made. So they decided to make all of them if Kusuo’s parents wanted to sit want participate in movie night too.

When Y/N got inside the Saiki’s residence they walked into Saiki sitting at the kitchen table with the brightest, happiest face while eating coffee jelly.

“Well I’m glad I didn’t make coffee jelly, this time,”

Saiki then looked up at Y/N almost pouting.

“I had a feeling you’d spend your allowance on coffee jelly so I made a ton of cookies instead.” Y/N smiled and lifted up the lid on their tray to show off the array of cookies they baked.

Kusuo’s sad face then turned into a sweet smile and everything was alright again.

—————————————————————————

“What, you went to the house of fortune telling Chio?” “It was amazing! They told me I’d finally be able to break up with Takeru and find a new boyfriend!” Yumehara beamed.

“Takeru, you’ve been to the house of fortune telling?” “Ya it was great, they said me and Chio would make up and find happiness.”

“Well both fortunes can’t be true.” “Guess that’s a dud, if there really was a real fortune teller it would be so cool!” Y/N half complained, half speculated

“How naive, fortune telling is a ridiculous fantasy concocted on false profits trying to pry on the weak minded.” Kaido commented.

“For once me and you agree on something.”

“Anyway there are more important things happening. Come with me after school, haven’t you noticed? There’s a strange aura and Dark Reunion’s behind it.”

“That’s just a ridiculous fantasy you concocted. Don’t you have anyone else to ask to go with you.”

“Buddy! Did you hear about the new telling of fortune stuff?”

“It’s called the house of fortune telling and I’m sick of hearing about it.”

On Saiki’s way home, he came across the house of fortune telling. ‘So this is it?’

“How was it Kiyomi?” “Okay get this! They said that Kento Yamazaki’s fate is destined to mix with mine!”

“Oh hey look, it’s Kaido. Why is he here? Didn’t he say this stuff is bogus a couple hours ago?” Y/N whispered to Saiki.

“I don’t care about his excuses but their fortune telling seems suspicious.” Saiki commented back.

“Ah! She said I will go out with Kento Yamazaki!”

“Kento Yamazaki has two girl friends now.”

“Either it’s real and Yamazaki is a player or it’s fake and the only modern day celebrity she knows is Kento Yamazaki.” Y/N said amused.

“Next in line”

“We’re already here, might as well check this place out.”

“Hey Kaido! Do you mind if I go in with you? I’m rather curious and I think it’d be fun!” Y/N said trying to be charming.

“Oh L/N! I just want to warn them about Dark-”

“Okay how about we do it together then?” Y/N said while linking their arms and leading Kaido into the room with them.

“Welcome to the house of fortune telling, please have a seat.”

“Okay…” “Sure thing.” Kaido and Y/N then sat side by side.

“My name is Mikiko Clairvoyance and it is a true pleasure to read you two today. What made you come here seeking my advice?”

“Nothing in particular really, just curiosity ,” Y/N spoke for both of them.

“Oh my, I’m getting a very special aura from you. You’re no ordinary boy are you? I sense you have special powers.”

‘Now that he’s reacted like that she sees right through him.’ Y/N and Saiki thought.

“And you… I sense that you are ordinary but you have a big secret. Perhaps a secret between you and a friend or you and yourself. I can tell you have close relations to a very special person as well.” The woman said addressing Y/N.

‘Does she mean me?!’ Kaido blushed furiously.

“Mh, perhaps, but doesn’t everyone keep secrets? And for all I know you could be thinking me and Kaido here are dating or that my neighbor’s mom is a demon. You’ve got to be more specific, being general will get you no where.” Y/N replied smoothly, almost as if they were a character in a show being interviewed.

Kaido was in awe of Y/N smooth talking and was still pretty flushed at the thought of them dating.

‘That was quite the reaction. Hasn’t Kaido dated any- never mind.’

“Something is troubling you right?”

“How did you know?!”

“Let me tell you what it is, a romantic dellema……… is not the problem, so concerns about school or your future… are also not what’s troubling you but relationships with your friends…”

The woman paused a little bit longer on the first problem while looking between Y/N and Kaido, Y/N was looking back at her and Kaido was still blushing and looking sideways at Y/N, but she knew she could get a better reaction so she carried on. And she was right, on the last suggestion he gasped and made a funny shocked face.

“Yes thats it! I am getting a strong sense that your sense of distress has something to do with friendship!”

“How did you know?!”

‘You make it too easy’ Y/N and Kusuo thought plainly.

“Yes you’re right, that is the source of my distress. You see, I’m actually have super powers that…….”

‘This is gonna be a minute….’ Y/N thought.

“I’m used to fighting evil, but fighting solitude, that’s the hardest part. I have no friends- I mean comrands to rely on…”

“Oh Kaido… you could have told me that a long time ago, then you wouldn’t have to be so alone dear,” Y/N said while slowly rubbing Kaido’s back comfortingly.

‘I know we aren’t really close but I don’t want him spending money to try and get some when he already has me, Nendo, and Kusuo.’ Y/N thought.

“Oh uh, I guess I should have….” Kaido said blushing again and looking away from Y/N.

“You’re looking for someone to understand you am I right? Well that’s the wrong approach, you must understand them first. And I get a feeling that the people you are looking for are already close by so with thi-” the woman tried to get Kaido to spend money on things but Y/N caught on to early and interrupted her.

“I agree Kaido. How about we get about of here and we can schedule something with Nendo and Saiki hm?” Y/N said gently looking into Kaido’s eyes.

“Oh um, sure.” Kaido said awkwardly.

“Thank you miss, we’ll be going now.” Y/N said as they got up and started to walk out. Kaido was close behind following Y/N like a puppy.

“That was interesting wasn’t it?” Y/N said looking to Kaido.

“It was!” Kaido replied a little flustered.

“Hm, well, I’ll see you tomorrow ya?”

“Yes! I’ll see you tomorrow…..”

“Bye Kaido,” Y/N smiled and waved goodbye, leaving Kaido to find Saiki.

“You didn’t have to do all that you know?” Saiki said.

“Well I didn’t want him spending all his money to get what he already has, that’s just sad and cruel. And I doubt I really did anything, it’s nothing Kaido won’t forget in a week, right?” Y/N replied. Saiki only hummed in response.

—————————————————————————

“Are we there yet?”

“Oh! Fancy meeting you here Saiki!” Teruhashi said to Saiki.

“OH WOW” Nendo and Kaido yelled.

“What are you boys up to today?”

“Well Nendo said he knew of a good ramen shop so he’s taking us there now!”

“Ya we’re gonna pig out- I mean eat like gentlemen.”

“Oh ramen sounds good! Do you mind if I invite myself to tag along with you? Oops, I hope I’m not being overly pushy.” Teruhashi asked the group.

‘Tell me why I’m here again,’

‘Cause you wanted Kaido to get friends,’ saiki respond to Y/N telepathically.

“I don’t have a problem with it. Do you have a problem with it?”

“Nono not at all!”

‘Seriously,’ ‘Why are those two being so weird?’ Y/N and Saiki thought consecutively.

“Oh wow, just look at her!” “So pretty!” “Oh wow!”

“I never pegged you for a ramen girl,” Nendo tried to make an attractive face.

“Say Kaido, why do you always wear those bandages on your hands?” Teruhashi asked.

“It’s to keep my powers in check!” Kaido responded.

“Uh powers? Sorry I’m afraid I don’t understand what powers you’re referring too.” Teruhashi commented.

“It’s actually just something that happened by accident!….” He replied all flustered.

‘I didn’t know it was possible for Kaido to take those off.’ Y/N thought.

“Ah, we’ve arrived. There’s the ramen shop.”

‘I can’t tell if I like his voice like that or if I hate it.’

“Oh wow,” Teruhashi dead panned at the honestly moldy looking shop.

“I hear their ramen is like crazy good. My friend’s cousin’s ex dog walker said it’s good so gotta be good.”

“Ya I wouldn’t trust a rundown shop to feed me anything, that’s just begging for food poisoning.” Y/N commented generally.

“Something urgent just came up-”

“Are you out of your mind man?! She’s got class so there’s no way she’s gonna eat at a place like that! You don’t really want to eat in this run down rat hole do you Teruhashi?”

“I’m okay, with this place.” she responded looking like a corpse.

“Whoa! You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Kaido asked Teruhashi again.

“Ya, I’m fine with it.”

“Ah! What is this place, it’s filthy! Hey seriously, don’t feel pressured to stay.”

“I’m fine. Taste is what matters.” Teruhashi responded cheerfully.

‘Health and safety is what matters.’ Y/N thought honestly shocked with Teruhashi.

“Hey, I don’t think I can eat now. I’m visiting my grandparents later and they will pester me to eat their food until I’m overly full. So I think I should save my stomach space for later tonight. You guys order with out me.” Y/N was quick enough to make a good excuse to get out of eating. Saiki was a little jealous he didn’t think of that.

“Yo! Mr manager! Four ramens!”

“Four ramens coming up.”

“Here you go”

“Noodle time!”

‘Oh wow’ the whole group thought.

The only person to actually eat the food was Teruhashi, but she looked pretty sick walking out of the shop.

—————————————————————————

Next episode: in progress

—————————————————————————

I didn’t really have any ideas to add it the last two segments about Toritsuka and the gym cloths or the precognition and explosion so I left it out of this episode.

[hetaologist]

World Meeting (pt. 1)

England: *Enters the meeting room* Right, I want to address a particular Tweet as today’s meeting topic…

*All Nations stop what they’re doing to look at England*

England: Just last week, I read a Tweet from a *specific* individual, talking shit about my food.

*All Nations groan, America snickers to himself*

England: *Narrows eyes at America*, I’ll have you know, my ‘Pie and Mash’ is a good, hardy meal and a British classic!

America: *Stands from his desk with a cheeky grin* Come on dude, don’t tell me you actually look forward to eating dry ass meat pies covered in nuclear green gravy and a side of wall paste~. *He laughs mischievously*

England: WHY YOU CHEEKY BAST-

France: *Clears his throat* Mon amie~, I’m forced to agree with America…unfortunately.”

England: *Snaps his head towards France* WHAT!? Says you, you snail sucker! Your food is overrated and overly complicated to make.

France: *Clutches pearls* Sacré bleu, you heathen! At least my food is desired for and doesn't make people fat, no~?!

*America and England both glare at France*

America: Excuse me bro...?

*Germany stands up and places hands on table*

Germany: Now's not the time to talk about frivolous topics as such. The three of you, sit down und shut up!

America: Hmph, says you. You think it's perfectly okay to eat boiled sausages with boiled potatoes and noodles with no seasonings.

*Germany gasps and gets taken a back*

Germany: DON'T TALK SCHEISSE ABOUT MY FOOD, YOU LARD COVERED ARSCHLOCH!

France: And no, covering everything in mustard or paprika doesn't count~.

*Germany is fuming like a hot baked potato*

England: Hehe~. Now you know how I feel in this situation, you bland Kraut!

America: HAHA! And your beer tastes terrible~.

*Everyone deadass looks at America*

America: What?

Russia: That's some bold words coming from you, Америка~. Germany's beer is pretty good, your beer tastes like man pissed into bottle before closing it.

America: HEY! At least my food is well seasoned and diverse...

China: Yeah right, your shit is just our stuff but with too much sugar and salt.

*All Nations nod their head in agreement*

America: No it isn't! I just like lots of flavor....

*England looks over at America's Stanley cup on his desk*

England: I bet that coffee cup is filled to the BRIM with pure sugar and syrups, you fat ass.

America: Nah dude, it's filled with my *:･ﾟ✧special sauce*:･ﾟ✧.

*America opens up his giant cup filled with sauce*

America: It's a combination of ranch, hot sauce, chicken tender sauce, tangy BBQ sauce, ketchup, mustard, mayo, bacon bits, chipotle, sour cream, sweet n' sour and chili sauce~.

*Everyone looks in horror at America's concoction*

England: What in the ACTUAL FUCK AMERICA ?! Why do you have a huge ass cup of JUST SAUCE?!

America: To quench my thirst, of course!

*Everyone's jaw drops in disgust, some start to gag*

Russia: I should have bombed you when I had chance...

America: Nah, I'm just playing! It's for my chicken tenders.

*America pulls out a box of fast food chicken tenders out of coat pocket*

Germany: WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT WITH YOU?!

America: It's my snackies :3c , this is the sauce I use for everything! Like tacos, burgers, pizza...

*North Italy faint after hearing 'pizza'. South Italy gasps and tends to his brother.*

South Italy: You sick fuck, you always fuck up our beloved pizza and pasta!

America: Wha- no I don't!

South Italy: You are the bastard that put pineapple on pizza and fucked it all-a up!

America: Actually, that's Canada's invention...

South Italy: WHAT?!

*Everyone looks at Canada*

Canada: ...damn it. It's really not that bad, honestly.

South Italy: You're just as bad as your brother!

Canada: Fair...

*America gets on the desk and stands on it*

America: How about we once and for all decide who has the best food in the world and that person can talk all the shit they want about other countries food!

*All Nations agrees to the motion, except for Germany*

Germany: Gott in Himmel... *facepalms*

(to be continued...)

[coryndoll]

waking up to you ₍₅₎

au!rafe cameron x reader

— in which you wake up in a strange alternate reality that just so happens to be the outer banks universe, and to your disbelief, you’re suddenly in a relationship with the shows most unlikely character, rafe cameron.

warnings: alcohol, swearing, 18+ smut (poorly written), p in v, fingering, orgasm denial / control, praising, impact play, choking, drunk sex, just a bunch of stuff

authors note: guys 😞😞 i havent slept yet n its 8am okay see u today ! xo

previous next

sarah walks over with a few drinks, weaving through the crowd and handing them out like she’s done this a hundred times. she’s balancing a faint smile, her eyes flicking around the backyard as she approaches, as if she’s trying to relax but can’t fully settle.

kiara’s on your other side, and even though the party is in full swing, she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. her expression is tight, her shoulders hunched like she’s holding back from showing how uncomfortable she is.

you don’t blame her. knowing kiara’s character, it’s not surprising that a rafe cameron party isn’t exactly her scene.

“i tried to find the least threatening drinks in all that crap rafe brought tonight,” sarah says, her voice low as she hands you and kiara cups. the corners of her mouth twitch upward in a forced smile, like she’s joking but there’s truth behind it.

you take your cup, grimacing as you look inside. the liquid sloshes around in the dim light, and you can’t help but wonder what kind of concoction sarah managed to scrounge up from rafe’s wild assortment.

you lean back against the brick half-wall, feeling the cool stone press against your spine. sarah settles in beside you, her shoulder brushing yours, and kiara hoists herself up onto the wall on your other side, holding her drink with one hand, but she doesn’t take a sip. not yet.

the three of you stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s strange—this moment of quiet in the middle of all the chaos—but it also feels grounding. like, for the first time all day, you’re not just a spectator, not just someone on the outside looking in. you’re here, with them. part of their group. part of this world.

you glance around the backyard, watching the laughter, the reckless dancing, the drinks being poured and spilled. it’s wild, a mess in its own way, but there’s a freedom in it too.

in a strange way, it feels like you could belong here. like you could get used to moments like this. parties won’t happen every night, but this sense of connection? that could be something real. something that lasts.

you absently take a sip of your drink, the alcohol burning as it slides down your throat. it’s harsher than you expected, and you wince, trying to shake off the bitterness.

but then something else hits you, something harder. the truth. it slips into your mind like the sting of the alcohol, sharp and undeniable.

you’re leaving after tonight.

the party, the people, the wild energy—it’s all temporary. by the time the sun rises, you’ll be back in your own reality, where none of this exists. where none of these people know you.

you pause, your hand tightening around the cup, your mind wandering as you take another drink. you lean back against the wall, staring at the scene in front of you. it was fun while it lasted, but this isn’t your world. at least not really.

and it hits you. it’s been fun. but not enough.

you pull away from the wall, standing a little taller, turning to face sarah and kiara. they look at you, maybe a little curious about the shift in your expression, the sudden spark in your eyes. you’re not thinking about tomorrow anymore. you’re thinking about right now.

“let’s just get fucked up tonight,” you say, a grin pulling at your lips. because if this is your last night here, if this is the end of your wild, unexpected adventure in this world—then you're going to make the most of it.

sarah grins as soon as the words leave your mouth. her eyes light up with a wild sort of excitement, and she’s immediately on board. “hell yeah. let’s do it,” she says, already for raising her cup and preparing to take a bigger sip.

but when you glance over at kiara, you see the hesitation written all over her face. she’s fidgeting with her drink, her shoulders hunched in that same way, a small, reluctant shrug as she stares down at the liquid.

“i don’t know, guys,” she mutters, “i don’t know.” it’s clear she’s not feeling it, the party vibe or the idea of letting loose like that. but you and sarah? you’re not letting her off that easy.

“come on, kie, it’ll be fun,” you say, your voice soft but insistent, leaning in a little as if coaxing her into something harmless.

sarah jumps in without missing a beat, her energy contagious. “just for tonight!” she adds, almost laughing, because she knows kiara isn’t the type to get wasted or go wild in a place like this, but that’s exactly why she wants her to let go for once.

kiara lets out a small, reluctant laugh, shaking her head slightly, but there’s a spark in her eyes now, like maybe she’s considering it, even if it’s just for a second.

you and sarah exchange a quick look, a knowing glance before you both grab her arms, pulling her along before she can protest any further.

“come on, kie!” you say, laughing as you tug her toward the chaos of the party. sarah’s on the other side, matching your pace, pulling her with the same enthusiasm.

you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the realization that you don’t have much time left, but either way, you’ve decided. you’re going to squeeze every last drop of fun out of this night, out of this reality, before you have to wake up and leave it all behind.

the music pulses through the backyard, a mix of laughter and shouting that fills the air like a sweet buzz.

you find yourself losing track of time as you drink just enough to let loose, the warmth of the alcohol making everything feel lighter, more carefree. you’re wrapped up in conversations with sarah and kiara, their laughter mingling with yours as you dance together.

as the night wears on, you feel a pair of familiar hands wrap around your waist, spinning you around. it’s rafe. you hardly register his presence at first—too lost in the moment.

without a second thought, he twirls you into his chest effortlessly, and your heart races at the sudden closeness. you barely have time to react before he kisses you deeply.

it’s the kind of kiss that makes you feel like you’re melting into him, as if the rest of the world falls away. the music dims to a low thrum in your ears, and all that exists is the two of you, locked in this moment of heat and urgency.

rafe pulls back slightly, his breath warm against your skin. he lifts his chin and lets out a loud ‘woo!’ that echoes through the party, earning cheers and whoops from those nearby. you can’t help but laugh, caught up in the energy of it all.

he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowing in an adorable mix of confusion and amusement, a smile dancing on his lips, and asks, “how much have you had to drink?”

in your tipsy state, you hold up a couple of fingers, a crooked smile spreading across your face.

“that’s my girl,” he says, taking your hand and leading you toward the side of the house. the party fades into the background as he guides you upstairs, taking you to a patio that’s off-limits to the rest of the guests.

the air feels different up here—cooler, more intimate. the view of the party below is mesmerizing, with colored lights twinkling against the dark sky, laughter drifting up like smoke.

rafe stands beside you, practically holding court with his girl by his side, completely at ease in this secret space. he leans against the railing, one arm casually draped around your shoulders as you both look out over the night, the chaos of the party a distant memory.

it’s just you and rafe, lost in the moment, enjoying the night and everything it has to offer.

his lips are working furiously on yours as he lays you down on the bed, a soft groan escaping his throat that fills you with desire. you feel weak against him, his body naturally playing rough with you as he kisses you deeper.

his hands roam your body, his thumbs brushing over the sides of your breasts, pausing to cup them in his large hands as his tongue slips into your mouth, his fingers finding your hardened peaks to trace over them gently. his other hand moves lower, caressing your stomach and hips.

you’re blitzed and needy for him, your hips bucking up against his hand instinctively, pleading for some pressure.

he chuckles against your mouth, breaking the kiss only to trail his lips down to your neck, his fingers lightly dancing over your inner thighs, tauntingly close to where you want them most.

his touch is addicting. his fingers continue their path until they’re buried between your soaked panties and your skin. he groans at the warmth and wetness he finds, his thumb pressing against your clit as his fingers start to rub slow, gentle circles over it.

you whimper softly as your back arches, chest pressed into his. learning down, rafe kisses your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he whispers into your ear.

“eyes on me, baby,” his voice is low, husky, demanding. your gaze is pinpointed on him, despite how difficult it is to keep them open. they flutter shut when he increases the speed of his touch, his own breath hitching as you writhe against his hand. “that’s it, look at me.”

his fingers continue their relentless pace, drawing out your release as he watches you with heavy lids as you come down, his own hardness straining painfully against his jeans.

as you cry out his name, he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing your moans and whimpers as your body convulses against him, his fingers continuing to work through it. he grins against your lips, his pride swelling as your release coats his fingers. he’s so proud of you.

as your body finally stills, he pulls his fingers free from your folds and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean.

his hands move to your hips to flip you over so you’re on your hands and knees, and swiftly discards the rest of his own clothes. when he returns the spotlight, he groans at the sight of you, your ass high in the air, presenting yourself to him.

hie hand comes down hard on your right cheek, leaving a red handprint. “such a good girl,” he murmurs, rubbing the sting away before doing the same to the left cheek, each spank leaving you gasping and gripping the sheets harder than you were before.

he takes a moment to admire the view, his large hands kneading the soft flesh of your ass. “you look so good like this, baby,” he tells you, giving a cheek one last sharp smack before hooking his fingers around your underwear and roughly tugging them down.

his hands return to your hips, his body crowding yours as he leans over your back, his hardness pressing against your still core. he nuzzles his face into your neck, his breath hot and heavy on your skin as he wastes no time, slowly entering you. he’s big, intoxicated, and absolutely hungry for you.

he hisses a breath through his teeth as he fully sheaths himself inside you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “so perfect for me, hmph?” he says, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to thrust in earnest. he knows he’s not being gentle, but he also knows that you can take it.

his hips snap against your ass with a punishing rhythm. he reaches around to grab your throat, his fingers closing around it like a vice as he chokes you gently.

“my perfect girl,” he whispers, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows thickly, listening to the pleasuring sound of your broken moans. he pulls out suddenly, his thick member slapping against your pussy before he grips your hip tightly and slams back in.

he hisses, his hips bucking forward, his movements becoming more frantic. his hands dig into your flesh as he speeds up, the sound of wet flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. he’s merciless, each thrust meant to claim, to own, to mark. he grunts with every snap of his hips.

at some point, his thrusts become shallower but equally brutal, hitting a spot that makes you wail. he grins.

just when you feel your orgasm building already, it’s like he reads you like a book. rafe abruptly pulls out and flips you onto your back, pushing your legs up and out as he slams back in. he leans over, his chest pressed to yours.

he’s relentless; you’re learning this. with you, you’re like his prey. and he makes all the right noises to drive you over the edge.

“please,” you whine, your head collapsing back against the pillow. “can i please cum? please?”

his hips jerking forward in short, sharp thrusts. “not . . not yet. you can cum when i say you can,” he hisses, his voice laced with dominance. “you can take it, can’t you, baby? for me?”

you hold out for as long as you can but he doesn’t make it easy. tears brim your eyes at the frustration, at the stimulation that’s clouding your mind. all you can think is him. end the night with him.

“i’m not done with you yet,” he tells you, his face contorted with pleasure as he continues to thrust into you. he reaches down and wraps your legs around his waist, tilting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “wanna fill you up with my cum. make you pregnant.”

“‘m gonna cum,” you cry, and his hips jackhammer as he feels your body clench around him.

he can already feel himself itching for release, just like you. who is he to deny his own? “cum for me. show me how much you love me, baby,” he groans, his voice strained with passion.

his face contorts with pleasure as he feels you clamp around his cock, his rhythm growing erratic as he finds his own release. he lets out a guttural shout, his body growing heavy as he cums inside of you.

you lift your head off the pillow and look down between your warm bodies. rafe reaches for your jaw and presses his lips hungrily to yours—to taste you and to reward you for being so good to him. when he pulls away, he’s breathless, lifting off of you.

his hands cascade down your thighs until he’s gripping the flesh of your hips, pulling his own back, then forward into you. it’s slow, gentle, until he’s withdrawing completely. his cock springs free, attached to it a mere string of cum, a mix of both of yours.

then he’s off, retrieving some tissues from his bedside while you lay in the middle of the bed, fucked out, bruised, but in an unexpected way, relieved.

you hear the crinkle of tissues as he pulls you to the edge of the bed and wipes both of you clean. he tosses the used tissues into the trash without much care before collapsing back into bed, pulling you into him. his arm wraps tight around your waist, almost possessive, like he’s afraid to let go, even in sleep.

you lie there, listening to the soft sound of his snores. his face is peaceful now, so different from the chaos he usually carries. it feels strange seeing him this way—vulnerable, calm, and completely at ease with you. you should feel the same, but your mind keeps spinning.

it’s hard not to think about the day, about everything that’s happened.

just this morning, you woke up in a world you’d only ever seen on tv, a universe that wasn’t yours but one you’ve somehow slipped into. and despite everything, it’s been . . . nice. spending the day with rafe, with sarah, kiara, and even the rest of them. living in their world, even if it was only temporary.

you take a deep breath, staring at rafe as your thoughts drift. it feels like a once-in-a-lifetime experience, something gifted to you without explanation. one day to live among them, to see what it’s like.

you lie there for a while longer, watching as his chest rises and falls with each breath. his face is so peaceful.

before you realize it, you’re leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. your lips linger for a moment longer than you mean to. when you pull back, you watch him again, his face still unchanged, lost in whatever dream he’s in.

you whisper, “thank you.” a parting phrase that feels like a goodbye, and it essentially is. because deep down, you know this isn’t your world. it was never supposed to last more than a day, and as much as you’ve loved it, as much as you’ve found comfort here, you know it’s time to go.

with a sigh, you finally decide to call it a night.

you slip under the covers, pulling them tight around your body. rafe’s arm is still around your waist, holding you close. you let yourself settle into his embrace, his body pressed against yours.

it’s almost too easy, too natural, the way you cling to him, letting your head rest on his chest as you begin to drift off. your thoughts blur, and soon enough, sleep overtakes you.

@v2los @cosmixstar @meeuhsworld @httpsdrewstarkey @lovdrew @lilithblackkk @rovckwells @cherrylooney @iissza @namelesslosers @cocolovey @rafeyswrd @odairtrqsh @gretag13 @vivian-555 @lunaleah @smol-coffee-addict @twinge-vix @behindviolettwrites @avngrssckr @stonerroadbull @cali-888 @coquettajob @simpingcorner @nymphetkoo @pinkpantheris @ilyrafe @romaescapes @cold-soup1223 @inaluvrsworld @rafesweetie @faephoria @solo-pitstop-vibes @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @drewsephrry @sgecorrow @ravisinghs-wife @booksntings @tinyfairies

jk ! when you wake up, the first thing you notice is the light—bright and clear, filling the room. you blink, your eyes fluttering open slowly, though your head throbs with the weight of a . . . hangover? this stuff really spreads to the real world.

the faint smell of something familiar, lingers in the air. groggy and confused, you try to shake the fog in your mind, rubbing your eyes before looking around your apartment.

and then it hits you. rafe is still in bed with you. and this isn’t your apartment, this is still the camerons house.

his arm is still wrapped around you, his body still beside yours. your heart skips a beat, confusion quickly flooding your chest. this isn’t how it was supposed to go. you were supposed to wake up in your own world, in your own bed. this isn’t real.

another day?

you sit up suddenly, your breath catching in your throat as you check your body, running your hands along your arms, your chest, your legs, feeling for anything that might seem off. but it all feels real. your skin, your muscles, the headache—it’s all real.

your eyes go wide as you look around the room, trying to make sense of what’s happening. the bed, the walls, everything is just as it was last night. rafe is still asleep beside you and your mind races, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation.

you didn’t wake up in the real world. you’re still here.

a/n: HASHTAG L O L (guys i panicked how do u explain the twist that y/n is gonna be in this alternate reality withour sounding corny). post-credits scene ahh ending 😭

[sunniskyies]

𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've been missing with no trace, run away from Finnick in an effort to protect him. After years of searching, he unexpectedly finds you again 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Finnick Odair x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Talk about the Victor Trade and all that nasty Capitol stuff, cursing, argument 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Angst with a fluffy wee ending („• ֊ •„) 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k 𝐀/𝐍: Writing all this self-loathing in the 2nd person feels like I’m just bullying you I’M SORRY FSFBWEVGJ

At the edge the pulsating beats and vivid neon lights of the club, you sit at the end of the bar, trying to stick to the shadows. The air hums with bassy music, all around you patrons clink glasses and laughter weaves through the crowded space. The bartender, expertly bustling around the various taps and counters, slides a colourful concoction across the polished counter to you.

“Thank you. Who’s it from?” You ask over the loud din, examining the drink. Definitely spiked.

“A man called up, sent it forward to you. A Mr. Harrington-Smythe.” The man says, already wandering off to squeeze money out of a group of tipsy, underaged girls. You sigh to yourself. Mr. Harrington-Smythe, your client for that evening.

You scoff. Of course the pompous git thinks you won’t be able to tell the presence of substances in the drink, the man thinks higher of dog shit on his shoe than he does a woman. You’ve had him before, and this isn’t the first time he’s tried to drug you in advance. In the past, you’ve just pretended to be high so he wouldn’t complain to Snow.

You slide off the stool you are perched on, about to go to the bathroom to tip the vile stuff down the drain, when your eyes catch on someone across the crowded room.

You know he’s staring straight at you, even through the flickering lights and writhing bodies. How could you not, you can basically feel his waves of surprise and anguish rolling over you. There’s something else there too, another emotion that you can’t place, one that makes your stomach churn and your heart skip a beat.

You quickly rip your eyes away from his, setting the cold drink back down on the bar with shaking hands, and then disappearing into the dancefloor. He’s no doubt already walking after you, hopefully you can lose him in the crowd.

Once at the other side of the room, you slip through a side door that will take you up to the roof. You can stay up there for a while, lay low until you have to make your way back down for your appointment. You’re almost through when you realise you’ve made a mistake.

Finnick hadn’t lost sight of you in the crowd like you'd counted on, and now he’s headed straight for you. You’re cornered, with only the roof to go to now. So as quickly as possible, you hurry up the stairs with a pounding heart, behind you you hear that voice you never thought you’d hear again.

“Y/N! Wait, stop. Hang on.” He calls up the stairs, following after you.

You burst into the cold night air, and stumble around looking for a place to hide, but you’ve had a few drinks and are blinded by the raw emotion coursing through you. You haven’t prepared for this! Still reeling, you’re completely caught off guard when Finnick appears in the door after you.

“You don’t have to run away, Y/N. I just want to talk.” He says cautiously, a nervous hand running through his golden curls.

Even after all this time, he still takes your breath away. You wish you could forget knowing every freckle on his body, every scar that dots his skin. You wish you could lock away the memories you have, the knowledge of where he blushes and what he laughs at, the feeling of his warm hands on your hips, your face, your lips…

You must look like a frightened animal, cowering and shivering before the man, because he takes a hasty step back, unwilling to scare you off. Of course he’s still a gentleman to you, even after all you’ve done.

That somehow makes this harder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just can’t let you leave again, not without talking to you. Not when you’re right here.” He says, his voice edged with shock. You can’t blame him, you’re feeling the same exact way, the man you never thought you’d see again standing here before you.

“Finnick,” You say hoarsely. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got an appointment.”

Hurt and anguish flash through those green eyes of his, but it hardens into something more. “So that’s it? That’s all you have to say to me? After all of this? Don’t you realise how much I’ve been worrying about you?” He says incredulously, his voice raised to a cry.

You open your mouth wordlessly. You haven’t planned for this. You haven’t planned for this.

“I have to go. I’ve got an appointment,” Is all you can muster.

Finnick’s eyes widen, shock and anger now all you feel radiating off him and it makes you wince at its abrasive touch.

“Y/N, you’ve been gone for four years! I haven’t seen you in four years! I woke up one day, and you were gone, no warning!” His voice catches, whether it’s from grief or anger, you can’t tell. “The only secret I have been asking from my clients all this time is if they know anything about where you are. Where I can find you again.” He laughs, cold and hard-edged. “Apparently you’ve been moving around a lot.”

You have been, it’s true. You move house every few months, living in small towns across District 4. When you're in the Capitol, you've had your manager scheduling all your appointments on weeks when Finnick wouldn’t be in town, and in establishments where you wouldn’t run the risk of bumping into any of the other Victors.

You take a shaky breath. The shock of seeing Finnick has subsided slightly, and you're managing to formulate full sentences now

“I’m sorry I’ve worried you, Finnick. But I’m not sorry I left,” You croak. The hurt in his gaze is strong, but it doesn’t rival the 4 years worth of dark shadows that sit under his eyes. Has he not been sleeping well since you left?

“You’re not sorry,” He repeats, disbelief rolling each word around in his mouth, trying it out. His face goes stony again.

“Right. Well, who is he then? This guy you’ve left me for?” He’s out of the doorway now, standing just a few feet away. You can just about feel the heat rolling off him. He still runs hot, you whisper to yourself.

“Do you love him? Does he love you?” He steps closer, but not menacingly. He could throw a stone at you and you would still feel safe around him, you think you always will.

“Does he kiss you how I used to?” He murmurs, his voice has gone deep and gravelly.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “There is no guy, Finnick. There’s no one.” You breathe shakily. No matter what, you cannot let him see you cry. You can’t let him think you were wrong about all of this. “There’s only Snow.”

“Snow?” Finnick repeats again. You nod slightly.

“Snow. The Trade. Being a Victor. That’s all there is for me.” You feel the familiar wave of disgust roll over you, but instead of pushing it away, you hold it close. That’s what you do. You coat your mind in these feelings, never wanting to forget what you are. Who you’ve killed, what you’ve done. “It’s destroyed me, Finnick. The only thing left to take away is those I love. So I removed it.” Your voice has gone quiet again. Finnick’s staring at you like you just shot him.

“So that’s why you’ve done this to me? You’re frightened of Snow? Y/N, I’ve never been scared of Snow, I’ve been scared for you. I thought we’d talked about this, that we would face this together! But you've just been trying to deal with this yourself? Y/N that's completely ridiculous, do you hear how ridiculous you sound right now?" He’s shouting now, and even you feel anger stirring in your chest. Why isn’t he getting it?

"But it worked, you’re still safe,” You scowl. "Everyone else is buying it, I don't see the problem."

"Buying it? Y/N there's nothing to buy, you've been completely absent all these years!" Finnick cries, hands once again tearing through his curls.

You scoff. "Whatever, Finnick. I can't do this right now. Just, go back to that stupid party" Push him away. Push him away.

"Stop trying to escape this situation, Y/N. You're still doing it, even now. Running away." He’s gotten even closer, his voice simmering with anger, a scalding quality that leaves painful brands on your heart. Hold it close, you tell yourself. 

"No Finnick, I'm not running away. That implies I've got a place to run to. I don't. I have a house in Four, and a room in the Capitol. That's it, that's all they are. Buildings. I don't have a home." You seethe.

Finnick closes the gap between you and grasps your wrist firmly, but not painfully. "You had a home. With me."

Though it makes your heart clench, you pull your wrist from his hold. "So go home. Get married, have kids. Live your life. That's what I wanted for you."

The angry waters in his ocean eyes have sunk into a dull swell. "It doesn't feel like a home anymore. Not without you." Your throat tightens.

"You have to let me go, Finnick,” You whisper. He straightens up fully, taking a step back. His hand is back in his hair, and the way he grasps threatens to pull it out completely.

"I can't! Don't you know how it eats me up inside? The abruptness of it all?" He cries. The dull ripples in his eyes have grown again to a crashing shoreline of emotion, waves of unsaid words finally breaking on the sand.

“If I knew that peck would be our last kiss, I would've never pulled my lips from yours. If I had known that time I held you would be the last, I would've wrapped you up in every bit of myself, show you the enormity I feel for you inside. But there was no closure with you, there was just the end.” His voice is heavy. “I would do anything for you, Dove. Did I not show that? Did I not make it clear?" His voice cracks.

It feels like every breath you’ve ever taken has left your body. "You did,” You murmur thickly.

"But you still left. Was it not enough?" He croaks. "Was I not enough?" Hurt flares in your chest. "You were more than enough, Finnick." Your voice is shaky but resolute. "You were everything."

But Finnick isn’t satisfied. He scoffs.

"If I was your everything, how could you leave me like that? You're my everything too, and I couldn't ever bring myself to do that to you. So one of us is lying, and it sure as hell isn't me." He growls.

He continues, filling the silence left in the wake of his harsh words. "But that's the pathetic thing about me, isn't it? I would still have you even if you didn't love me the same. I would choose you every time, even if you left me again and again. I'd still love you. I still love you."

The knowledge that you made him feel this pain- the feeling you get is indescribable. "You mistake my actions for unloving, Finnick. They come from a place of love.” You choke.

"It fucking felt unloving, Y/N.”

The ache worsens. You make a mental note to tattoo it to your brain later. "I did it for you. You just... don't understand."

"So make me understand, Dove. I used to understand you, at least I thought I did. It kills me to not know what you’re thinking anymore." He sighs, the fight left from his eyes. All that remains is a sheen of… grief.

"What I'm thinking? I’m thinking about how I couldn't live with myself if Snow hurt you to punish me, if he knew how I feel about you. I've spent my whole life loving you, Finnick. And I'll spend the rest of it loving you. I wake every morning to find my lips mourning yours, my heartbeat grieving its other half.” The tears are really threatening to fall now. “But I live with it, live with that debilitating ache in my chest because it would hurt more for you to grow to see me as the monster I am. For us to live together, and to one day know for sure you don't love me. I deserve that ache, a reminder every second I spend apart from your touch that I deserve it, for all I've done."

"So I leave, and I leave, and I leave. Because trust me, Finnick, I am not the one you deserve. A murderer, yes. A Capitol tool, yes. But someone deserving of your affections?" You close your watery eyes and shake your head.

His hands unexpectedly seize your face, sending a shockwave through you. His mouth collides with yours, the kiss that ensues is desperate and fervent, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that rolls through you like a storm. Soon, you're lost in the familiar feeling of his touch and the way he knows your body so well. Your heart races as he traces clumsy fingertips along your spine, his lips remembering the sensitive spot on your mouth that always makes you shiver.

"You claim to know me," He speaks against your lips, fiercely kissing you over and over again. "But you’re blind to anyone’s faults but your own. You forget I am those things too-"

"You’re nothing like me! I killed that boy in the arena!-" Your protest is cut off by another kiss.

"You did what you had to to get yourself back to me. How could I ask for more? I still love you." He murmurs with that smooth voice that makes you melt.

"I'm evil,” You whisper.

He just kisses you again. "So be it. I still love you"

"The Capitol, they've ruined me." You breathe, the wind knocked out of you.

"Then let me pick up the pieces; I still love you,” You see his eyes between bouts of him trailing kisses across your skin. The oceans within them have finally settled for the first time in years.

You’re not fighting him anymore, letting your body move where his hands move you, letting you lips chase his and your breathing sync. He has this unique ability to wipe clean the coating of pain on your heart and mind that you’ve spent 4 years building up with one touch.

“We have appointments.” You murmur to him. He doesn’t stop his exploration of you, too long has he been unable to show his affections.

“Who cares? If we both don’t go, there’s no one for him to hurt. We only have each other.” He replies. You smile softly, relishing his heat and his touch. You were wrong earlier, home isn’t the bed you left that day. It’s him, his touch and his love. Home is where Finnick is, in the space where his lips touch your skin.

"Stay this time." He whispers, so quiet you could’ve lost it in the wind.

"But would you still want me?" You ask. He pulls back at that, eyes syrupy and intently focused on you.

"I can't imagine a universe where I wouldn't want you."

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[domscopeland]

remember when there were holby trailers for each mood??? one of them was funny, one was sad and one was downright soft and i highkey miss them :(

[urfavweeb]

feels - albedo x fem!reader

summary: albedo feels things for you that he’s not used to, but you feel them too.

MINORS PLS DNI!!!!! THX

word count: 1.9k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, grinding, fingering, semi-public sex, virgin!albedo, idk what else tbh

author's note: if there are any issues pls lmk <3 i'm bad at endings lol so i'm sorry about that! i didn't proofread so if any errors pls say so!

days spent on dragonspine tend to drag on longer than others in your opinion. most of your friends would agree, but albedo is an exception to this opinion.

since he isn’t human, he doesn’t feel the cold quite as much as you do. that’s why whenever you mention being cold, he just raises an eyebrow at you as if you’re exaggerating.

you spend a lot of time at the mountain in albedo’s lab, often helping him gather materials or test out different potions and concoctions he creates.

you’d never been very good with creating things in the topic of alchemy, so you had decided to take up the position as his second assistant as well as a tester. sucrose had gotten more busy in mondstadt, which led to him needing more help.

being friends with albedo, you’d applied as quickly as possible. you couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive to you (and thus caused your want to work with him to be emphasized).

and here you are now, almost a year into this job, shocked because it’s still not nightfall yet after hours of working on what feels like the coldest day of the year. you’re outside, looking in between bushes and trees trying to find different herbs for albedo.

you finally find a handful of the ones that albedo had explained, grinning at the thought of finally being able to go back to the campsite and curl up with a book by the fire. as you start your walk back, you look out towards mondstadt and admire the sunset.

eventually you reach the campsite, noticing albedo staring at a small stack of papers with an annoyed look on his face. his eyes go from the papers to you and a small smirk forms on his lips before disappearing right after.

“hello, y/n. did you get what i asked you for?” he asks softly as you approach him. you nod, setting down the pouch of herbs beside his workspace and showing him which ones you were able to find and telling which ones you weren’t able to find.

“it was a little hard to find a lot of them since so many were near groups of hilichurls and stuff. i really didn’t want to fight with any monsters or treasure hoarders today.” you say, looking up and meeting his eyes.

he nods, “that’s fine. i can go out later to fetch them.”

you notice that he seems a little off, expression more distant than it had been before you left. “is everything okay?” you ask, turning and walking up to the small fire pit and sitting down on one of the chairs.

“yes. i’ve just been dealing with some new thoughts and emotions recently, so i’ve been trying to get to the bottom of what they entail.” he says, and you nod as he speaks.

new emotions and thoughts? that’s interesting. you don’t want to press him for answers, but now you can’t help but wonder what he means by that, sending a questionable gaze in his direction.

you decide to reach over for a book you’ve been reading and pick it up, opening up to the page that you left off on and opting to occupy yourself instead of overthinking about what albedo could possibly be dealing with.

a few minutes go by before you can hear him sigh a few times and eventually approach you, standing in front of you and clearing his throat. you look up at him and raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to say something.

“i am attracted to you. i’ve been reading about human attraction and how different emotions can cause different bodily predicaments to occur, which has been happening to me whenever you’re around.” you look up at him, feeling your face go hot at his words.

you clear your throat. “um, what do you mean by that?”

his hand touches your face, stroking your cheek lightly whilst he smirks. “i think you’re smart enough to know what i’m saying to you.”

you swallow harshly, staring into his eyes as he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your lips as he closes his eyes, hands falling down onto your waist as his nails dig into your skin.

once your lips meet, your lips move erratically against each other’s. his lips are as soft as you’d always imagined they’d be, and he seems more experienced than you would’ve expected. the way his fingers massage into your hips sends you reeling, whimpers escaping from your mouth.

eventually, he lifts you and leads you to a little cot placed near a small fire, pushing your back down into the mattress and kissing you once more. his body is on top of yours, his hips pushing into yours as his tongue finds its way into your mouth.

the feeling of his tongue swiping against your own overwhelms your senses, your panties growing more soaked by the second. little grunts bubble up from your throat when his clothed dick begins grinding harder against you.

his hands eventually move to your breasts and he begins groping them softly, hands eventually unzipping your coat and skillfully sliding if off while your lips stay glued together. his hands go underneath your shirt as he pulls away from your lips for a moment.

“are you okay with going any further?” he asks, voice sounding a lot more deep than usual. you nod quickly and he laughs softly, helping you get undressed until you’re in your bra and panties.

his eyes look over your body as he smirks, a hand reaching out and squeezing at one of your breasts. “you’re beautiful.” he says.

you smile up at him, tugging on his clothes and raising your eyebrows. “i’d like to compliment you too, so take off your clothes.”

minutes later, you’re both kissing again. this time both of you are in your underwear as his teeth nibble at your lips and tug a few times. his hips rut into yours, sending your head back as you gasp into his mouth.

his fingers play with the waistband of your panties before dipping down, his index finger reaching down and toying with your clit softly. you moan into his mouth at his touch, fingers digging into his arms.

his fingers enter you slowly, one after the next as they curl against your g-spot. your eyes are rolled back as he thrusts them fast, thumb brushing against your clit as his tongue swirls against your own.

you can feel your orgasm approaching quickly as you grind your hips against his hand, his lips finally leaving yours as he looks down at you and watches your face closely with a smug smirk on his face.

his face leans down and his free hand pulls one of your tits out from your bra, his lips kissing all over and sucking dark marks into your skin. you breathlessly moan his name out, feeling like you’re on the edge of cumming before his movements become more harsh and quick.

your toes curl as your orgasm washes over you, a moan escaping your lips as his teeth tug on your nipple roughly. his fingers don’t stop moving, your hips pushing back from the overstimulation.

“p-please stop, i’m too sensitive!” you cry out, hearing him chuckle lightly as he removes his fingers from your hole.

he’s quick to pull his cock out of his underwear, stroking the tip up and down your pussy. it hits your clit occasionally, sending you reeling into his touch as you shake from the stimulation.

as he gathers up your slick, he begins putting the tip in. he bites down on his bottom lip as he slowly slides in, and the stretch makes you moan loudly. once he bottoms out, he sighs at the feeling of your walls clenching against him.

his hands reach out for yours as he looks down into your eyes. “are you okay?”

you nod at him, “yes, now please move.” you whisper, feeling your thigh muscles twitching from arousal.

he begins thrusting slowly at first, having never felt this before. his movements aren’t as awkward as you would’ve expected, hands gripping onto your hips while he gets used to moving around.

once he starts going harder your moans become louder, feeling his tip hit your sweet spot repeatedly. your fingers grip onto his shoulders, trying to give your body some leverage against his movements.

despite his fast movements, you can’t help but crave more. you want him to make you sore for days on end. “harder, please!” you moan out.

you feel his hips move rougher against yours, smacking harshly and creating loud noises that echo against the walls of the campsite. the force of his movements causes your breath to shorten, shaky gasps coming from your throat.

the lack of airflow mixed with his hard thrusts have you going dizzy, eyes rolling back and tongue lulling out of your mouth. you’re close to cumming for the second time, your walls clenching involuntarily.

he grunts as he lifts up your legs, pushing them towards your shoulders as he thrusts at a new angle. your toes curl at the feeling, and one of his hands reaches down and he starts rubbing at your clit again.

this makes you moan his name out loudly, cumming against his cock and feeling your juices drip all over him.

he keeps going at the fast pace, thrusts eventually getting sloppier as he gets closer to cumming. his fingers dig into your hips, nails leaving marks as he grunts. the overstimulation of his movements hurts so good as you whine out.

eventually his hips stutter and you can feel him cum inside of you, thick cum filling up against your walls as he continues his movements through his orgasm.

after he’s finished cumming, he pulls out slowly and watches as his cum leaks from your pussy and down onto the cot. you adjust your body and stretch out your legs, wincing at the soreness between your legs.

“are you alright?” albedo asks, out of breath as he begins getting dressed. as he hands you your clothes, you nod at him.

you start getting dressed too, “yes. i honestly didn’t expect that to be so good, especially since you’re a virgin.” you tease him, a small smile on your face.

he laughs softly. “you’d be surprised what one can learn from reading.” he says, winking at you while he adjusts his papers that’d been sitting on one of the many tables in the campsite. as he finishes up, he decides to walk back over to you shortly after.

“thank you for allowing me to… experiment with you. it was an unforgettable experience, and i hope we can do it again soon.” he says, one of his hands reaching out and tucking hair behind your ear.

you giggle and press a chaste kiss on his lips, grasping onto his now gloved hands. “of course. i really do like you, albedo. i didn’t want that to be a one time thing.” you say, looking into his eyes.

you can hear shuffling behind you and turn to see sucrose walking in. “hey y/n! uh, your pants are on backwards…” she says, blushing as she looks between you and albedo.

you awkwardly look away from her, trying not to meet her eyes. “oh, thanks for letting me know.”

a look of realization forms on her face. “wait a minute! did you guys fornicate on MY cot?!” she shouts.

[saintshigaraki]

HERE, IN THE MORNING LIGHT, IS WHERE WE’LL BARE OUR SOULS

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader 

words: 3.2k

excerpt: Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

a/n: this is...a bit too similar to my bakugou drabble i’ll admit. but i could see a relationship with ushijima having some of the same problems. he’s not purposely cruel, but god, doesn’t that just make it so much worse?

tags: angst, mentions of alcohol, implied sex, reader is full of rage, ambiguous/open ending

in case you want to read it on ao3!

You greet Toshi at the door, as you’ve made a habit of doing when he manages to come home before you’ve fallen asleep.

(Like a well-trained dog, you think, with only the most bitter sort of amusement.) 

When you lift your hand up to cup his face, a sweet hello, love, how was your day? on your lips, he sweeps it aside (gently, of course. He's always so sickeningly gentle when he brushes you aside. You think that might just make the hollow sting of his nonchalant rejection that much worse.)

“Have you made anything for dinner?” he asks, already walking away before you have a chance to pull him down for a kiss. Your arm falls unceremoniously at your side. A deadweight, swinging. 

I think I might hate you, you want to say, so,  so badly. The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue as you stand frozen in the darkened entryway, his shadow stretches, eclipsing you, as he walks further and further away.

But these moments of sweet burning-hot rage pass as quickly as they come and soon -- too soon, maybe, or not soon enough -- you find yourself turning on your heels and shining a too-bright smile, the one that shows too many teeth and leaves an ache in your cheeks. 

“Not yet, love, but I can whip up something real quick.” 

The words taste like lead in your mouth.

(Or maybe that's just the blood from biting your tongue.)

Who knows, you muse, bitterly, bitingly. What does it matter anyway? 

You make your way towards the kitchen.

+

Later that night, after he’s finished fucking you into the mattress, he grunts out an I love you, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep. 

His cum is sticky and uncomfortable as it cools on your burning thighs. 

You stare at the lights sweeping across the ceiling from the passing cars and try to remember days when you didn’t feel as though someone had hollowed out everything that made you and filled in the empty space with barely contained rage. 

Rationally, you know you weren’t always so unhappy with Ushijima. You loved him -- you still do -- you have for years. You could barely contain your tears of joy when he asked you to marry him and you didn’t manage to contain them at all the day you officially tied the knot. 

You were so happy then. So, so, happy. 

What happened? 

(You know exactly what happened.)

You’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice for him. Moved from country to country. Left your family and friends behind more times than you can count. Because you love Toshi. Because you love him more than anything. And because he loves you, though you know he doesn’t love you more than anything. It’s a selfish gripe to have. A rather dumb one too. Of course he doesn’t love you more than volleyball. Why should he? He’s dedicated his whole life to the sport. Countless hours, countless injuries, and setbacks, and he’s persevered through it all because that's what he does. Because that sport, that court, that stupid fucking ball, is what he loves above all else. 

It’s not as if you jumped into this marriage wholly and totally blind. You’re not dumb. You knew volleyball was going to be a priority in his life,  the priority. And you thought you could handle that. You did handle it. For 5 years you’ve handled it, the constant moving, the last minute canceled plans, the weeks of him traveling that have left you all alone for near months at a time in a cold home with a cold bed. You’ve handled it all with a too-wide smile plastered painfully across your face. 

But things have -- shifted, recently. Maybe it’s the pressure of what could very well be his last Olympics coming up in these next few years, maybe it’s the fear of someone younger, better, stronger than him taking his place, or maybe, he simply doesn’t give all that much of a  fuck about you anymore. 

(You know that’s not true. Wakatoshi loves you. You know that. Which is what makes this all so much worse.)

I love you, isn’t that enough? he’d said bluntly, and maybe a bit confused, last time you brought up your concerns after the third canceled date in a row. 

His words had made you pause. Was it enough? Why isn’t it enough? Shouldn’t it be enough?

At the time, you’d thought, maybe. Maybe I can make it enough. 

A year later and you’ve come to the realization that it simply -- isn’t enough. Maybe if you were a different person, a slightly better person, it’d be enough. But you’re not. You’re you, a strange, toxic concoction of hollow fury and selfish desires (for comfort, for love, for anything more than whatever this is).

You roll over on your side to face your husband. He’s on his back, like he always is when he sleeps, completely dead to the world. 

He’s statuesque, unmovable, untouchable, even now. 

You gently brush your finger over his brow, sweeping his hair to the side, and tracing his strong jawline. You’ve done this a thousand times. You’ve memorized every curve, every freckle, every scar. You’ve mapped countless constellations across his skin. 

You don’t hate him, you realize, in the dark suffocating silence of the night. Not yet, at least. There’s still too much love for him in your heart. Still too many memories of brighter days. Sweeter days. Gentler days. 

He’s been good to you. As good as a man like him is capable of being. And you love him so, so dearly for it. 

He has tomorrow off, maybe -- maybe you should talk to him. There’s still time to salvage this. There’s still so much love for him in your heart, enough to drive out the hate. You know it. 

He has tomorrow off, you repeat to yourself. The first full day he’s taken off in a month. 

You’ll talk to him then. 

You have to. 

+

The morning light is what wakes you. The gentle rays kiss your cheeks so sweetly. 

Without fully opening your eyes, you reach towards Ushi only to be met with -- cool sheets. 

Your stomach drops painfully and it's as though he’s taken your heart in his hands and just squeezed. 

You open your eyes, wearily, tiredly, and the morning light no longer seems so sweet. It’s mocking. A cruel, bitter reminder of better days and broken promises. 

You crawl out of bed, trying to stay optimistic -- maybe he just went for a morning jog -- even though you know that on days he has off he likes to sleep in. You try desperately to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he promised and you want so badly to still be able to believe him, even after everything. 

He used to have every Saturday and Sunday free, then around three years ago it turned into every Sunday, then a year and a half ago it turned into every other Sunday, and recently -- well, it’s been a while. A long, long while. 

But he promised he’d stay home today. 

He promised, you repeat as you stumble around the apartment only to find it painfully silent, empty, and so, so cold. 

You collapse on the couch, hunched over, your head hanging pitifully into your hands. You take a deep, pathetically shaky breath. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh so hard you nearly heave. 

Two years ago, you would’ve cried. A year ago, you would’ve screamed. 

But now? Who do you really have to blame, but yourself? How can you not laugh? How can you not laugh at just how stupid and gullible you are? 

Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

This is your fault. And it has been for a long while now. 

It’s time to move on. 

+

You book a one-way flight home -- you haven’t been back in so long. Too long, you know. You stuff as much as you can into your single suitcase and pitiful carry-on bag. It’s all strangely methodical and robotic. You’re calmer than you’ve been in months. 

This is how it was always going to end. Honestly, you don’t think there was really supposed to be another option, any other way out. You don’t think this mess was ever going to be fixed. It was stupid of you to ever believe otherwise. 

By the time you’ve managed to compose yourself, get your affairs in order, and meticulously pack away as much as you can, the sun has started to dip below the horizon. 

The clock reads 9:18 PM. Your flight is in a few hours. You’ll have to get going soon. 

You pick out the nicest, most expensive bottle of red wine in your home. You were going to save it for when Ushi made the national team again but, as you’ve learned rather painfully, sometimes plans change. 

You pour yourself a glass, but in the end, can’t bring yourself to take a single sip. 

That’s how Ushi finds you, sitting at the kitchen table, toying with a glass of wine. There’s only the lone kitchen light lit in the apartment. The shadows dance around him, dark and monstrous, ready to swallow you both whole. 

Wakatoshi has never been particularly skilled at reading social cues but you can tell from the slight tilt of his head that he knows somethings wrong. You wonder if he knows exactly how wrong. 

(Not that it would really change anything if he did.)

The thud of his gym bag hitting the floor echoes too loudly in the silent apartment. 

He steps into the kitchen like he does all other things -- with purpose, with confidence. It will never not leave you in awe, even now, how sure he always is of himself. He’s a blunt force weapon, he always has been, and you can’t imagine a time where he’ll be anything but. 

He stops at the opposite end of the table. It’s the beginning of the same song and dance you two have done time and time again when he breaks his little promises. 

His big ones too. 

(You think of when he had missed your five-year anniversary dinner for a last-minute practice. He hadn’t forgotten about the reservation, he’d told you after he’d returned home to you sitting alone at the kitchen table, half-drunk and livid, but people were relying on him, is what he’d said, and there’s always next year.)

This routine is comforting, if only in the cruelest way. 

We can put on a show, just this last time, you think. For old time’s sake. 

Your eyes fall back down to your glass as you speak. “You said you’d stay home today.”

You look back up just in time to see him opening his mouth. No doubt getting ready to cycle through the same set of excuses he’s been using for the past four years. 

A teammate called. 

I needed the extra practice. 

There’s a skill I need to perfect. 

The Olympics are 4 years away...3 years away...2 years away....you know that, love.

And, of course, no matter his reason, his excuse, he always makes sure to add, I’ll stay home next Sunday, I promise. 

He doesn’t intend for that last part to be cruel, you’re sure of it, but God, if that doesn’t make it so much worse. 

You cut him off before he can even start. “You promised.”

His brows furrow at your exhausted, weary tone. “There was a team meeting today, I’m sorry I forgot to mention it to you. It went on longer than I expected it would. We can still go out to dinner if you’d like.” 

You give him a sad sort of smile. You’re too tired to give him any other. “I don’t think I’ll have time for that, love.”

Ushijima’s left brow twitches, as it always does when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. 

He takes a step forward, around the table. “What do you mean? Are you going out tonight?” 

You shake your head softly. “No, Toshi.”

You can’t help but wish more than anything, that it didn’t have to come to this, because you have loved him so much, so deeply, and you think that for it to end like this is a disservice to you both. 

His jaw clenches, no doubt already trying to contain his frustration. He’s probably tired after his long day. An argument over something like this is probably the last thing he wants. A good wife would care more. A good wife might’ve persevered, smiled through her husband's little lies and shattered promises. A good wife might’ve tried harder. A good wife might’ve dug her heels in, instead of letting go completely. 

But you’re not a good wife. Not now, at least. For all you know, you never were. You’ve always been just a bit too bitter, too selfish, too flawed. Not willing enough to throw yourself on the metaphorical altar for him. 

He’s close enough now that he can see the suitcase at your side. It stops him dead in his tracks. 

“What’s going on?” His tone is hard, demanding, but you know him too well to miss the fear that pulls at the corner of his eyes. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a lot of things. But he’s certainly not dumb. He has to know what’s going on. He has to have known that, eventually, this was what was going to happen. 

You stand up slowly, bracing your palms against the rough wood of the tabletop. 

“I-” you let out a harsh, mean breath. You hate that you’re doing this. But you’d hate yourself more if you didn’t. And you know you’d grow to hate him too, eventually, if you stay. You’re burning up here in this home, each broken promise and cold night add fuel to the already raging fire. You’ll be nothing but ashes soon enough. “I can’t do this anymore, Wakatoshi.” 

His pretty olive eyes narrow. The look he gives you is practically glacial. His fury has always been so, so cold. A stark contrast to your burning rage. 

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t understand.” His words are slow, methodical, and too even.

They crack open something violent inside your chest, something with teeth. Something mean and ugly and so, so sad. 

Too many years of biting your tongue have culminated into this moment. It’s time to strip yourself to the bone, to the ugly marrow. No matter how painful or awful. 

Don’t you two deserve that, at least? Don’t you two deserve to part ways having seen the worst of each other? 

“Of course you don’t understand, Ushijima,” you spit out, caustic and cruel. “How can you?” The laugh you let out is ripped from the very bottom of your heart, mean and poisonous. “Or more accurately, why would you? Why would you even bother understanding? It’s not like my unhappiness has ever really meant anything to you before-”

He cuts in sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

“No,”  you hiss. “I don’t. How can I? I’ve been miserable for years now, left to beg for scraps of your attention like a fucking dog. I’ve reduced myself to this pathetic creature. I-” tears cloud your vision, far faster than you can blink them away. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Ushijima. I’m so--I’m so angry all the time and if I stay here that’s going to be all that’s left of me.”

It’s silent after your outburst and in the air is something awful and too great. You’re both teetering on the edge of something terrifying. 

“If you stay with me, you mean,” he says, finally, and far too soft for a man like him. All signs of his previous fury have fled and in his eyes is a painful sort of vulnerability.

Your anger dissipates with his, mostly because you’re so fucking tired of being angry. 

Is it really his fault, anyway? What exactly were you expecting of him, when you took his last name? Were you really wanting him to change something so fundamental, so ingrained in his soul, just for you? How unfair of you, you realize now, how cruel. 

“Toshi.�� You’re exhausted. And so sick of being second best. “This is more my fault than it is yours. I thought I could handle what being married to you would entail but I was,” -- you laugh, far less biting than before-- “very wrong.” You close your eyes, unable to look at him. “And now I suppose we’re both paying the price for it.” 

“I love you,” he says, bluntly. “And you love me.”

You’re finally able to meet his eyes again. You take in the planes of his face, the subtle pain etched into every corner, a brutal, beautiful reflection of the years you’ve spent by his side. 

“I do love you, Ushijima. More than anything.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” 

You swallow hard. “Sometimes, that just isn’t enough, Toshi. Relationships require more than love. They require work, and compromise, and some semblance of care and dedication, and you just-- you just don’t have the time for that right now, and I understand that. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I deserve-” you stop and give yourself a moment to choose your words carefully, lovingly because you’re desperate for him to just understand. “We deserve better, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head, his hair falls in his eyes. You sweep it aside, a force of habit after all these years, something you’ve done a million and one times. Before you can jerk your arm back he grips it in his large hand. His fingers wrap around your wrist, unyielding. 

“I need you,” Toshi says, uncharacteristically desperate. You can feel the heat radiating off his chest. It's a twisted sort of comfort. Knowing this may very well be the last time you’ll be in this position. 

You smile, sweetly and a bit sadly. “No, you don’t, Ushi. You need volleyball. You need the thrill of the game and the taste of victory but you don’t need me. You’ve never needed me. And that’s okay.” You lift your other hand up to brush the stray tear that’s fallen from his eye. He nuzzles into your palm before you can move it, clinging to you like some sort of lifeline. “It’ll be okay, Toshi, we’ve just reached the end of our road. That’s all.”

He raises a shaky hand to trace the dried tracks of tears on your cheek, it’s startling to see him so uncomposed. “Please,” he nearly begs, “don’t do this.”

In your heart, there’s an odd brew of grief and rage and pain and love so mean you know you’ll feel the ache of it for years to come. 

You think of all the shattered promises he’s left at your feet, you think of the gentle way he’s held you through the years, you think of his string of nonchalant rejection, you think of yourself, bright and burning. 

Your mind spins from it and all you can do is rest your head against his chest and close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: there is some untapped potential in the fed up housewife genre and i am determined to unearth it. also i love ushi i promise i think he’d be a great husband under most circumstances

[oddaodd]

· Gardens That Like To Run with Blushing Flowers ·

Request: By a lovely anon “Would you be up for doing a fic with Tommy x reader based off of the Jessica Rabbit performance scene or if you aren't feeling that one then maybe something where the reader leaves a single flower on Tommy's desk every day and he asks Polly if she knows why and she says the reader has a crush on him and he confronts her about it??”

Author’s Note: I cannot express how much I loved this request! Then again, I really can’t say no to anything flower related. So yeah, I hope you like it and as always I wish you all a lovely day.

Warnings: none

·

Tommy had grown accustomed to the flowers that seemed to magically appear on his desk every morning. all different in color and shape, the one from today was a small purple one.

He had come to notice that the flowers always matched the color of Y/n’s earrings and sometimes the one of her dress too. Turning to look at her he noticed that the flower of today matched her dress too. She felt his eyes on her and looked up, granting him a smile when their eyes met.

It was always like that, Y/n loved giving him flowers every day and though Tommy would never admit it to anyone else, he loved getting her flowers. Somedays they were the only glimpse of sunlight he got.

The first time he got a flower from Y/n he was disconcerted, he had no clue as to whom may have had left it there on his desk and he hated not knowing. He found out it was Y/n when one day he arrived in the betting shop a bit earlier to see if he could see who it was who left flowers on his desk every morning, but when he arrived a blue flower was already there and the only other two people in the shop were Polly and Y/n.

“Do you know why is Y/n leaving flowers on my desk every morning?” He asked his aunt that same evening when everyone else had already left.

“Think” was all Polly said as she lit a cigarette, remembering the smile on Y/n’s face that morning as she left Tommy’s office.

Tommy plunged into thought, the answer was too obvious so he kept looking for another more complicated one.

“Jesus. Thomas she likes you” Polly spoke again, sparing Tommy from the concoctions of his own mind.

The next day he arrived even earlier, the shop was empty and it provided him with the secrecy he needed to leave a small potted lavender on Y/n’s desk before vanishing into his office. He lit a cigarette and went to stand before the window, watching working people making their way to work as the sun began painting the cloudy sky with soft yellow undertones. Then he saw Y/n walking happily before she entered the shop. He heard her footsteps walking in and then stopping and then continuing until his door opened.

“Oh I’m sorry Tommy, I didn’t know you were already here” she said walking into his office without knocking, but her tone and the fact that seeing him there didn’t startled her told him she did know he was there. The lavender plant on her desk was hard to miss after all.

“Do you have something for me?” he asked in a light tone.

Y/n blushed a bit. He knew. Would he be mad? Why would he be mad? She pushed all her thoughts away as she cleared her throat before speaking a soft yes and walking closer to him. She then produced an orange blossom from her pocket and handed it to him. Her heart warmed and she watched how he admired the small flower before walking over to his desk and pulling open a drawer.

Y/n continued observing him closely as he took a small book out of the drawer before opening it and putting the flower he had just given him between its pages. When he closed the book, Y/n got brief flashes of color, belonging to all the flowers she had given him.

“You kept them all?” she asked with a smile.

“Yes” he said before walking to where she was standing “I’m sorry your garden is running out of flowers” he continued as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I don’t have a garden” Y/n confessed with a smile to hide how nervous being so close to Tommy made her “They are wildflowers from the outskirts of town”

Tommy hummed in understanding.

“Thanks for the lavender on my desk by the way” she continued rambling as her eyes met Tommy’s “It was lovely”

“Well, perhaps now you can start your own garden” he murmured as he inched closer to her face, almost asking her for permission to let him kiss her.

With her heart thumping loudly at the base of her throat, Y/n leaned in and pressed her lips against Tommy’s allowing the feeling of his lips dancing against her own posses her, making the stuff of dreams become a reality.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @slytherinicequeen @lilymurphy03

[goldenkirstein]

drunk aot boys hc's

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

anonymous requested: Hey Raf, can I request some headcanons about what type of drunk Jean, Eren and Armin are and how they act when drunk, both in general and around their s/o? And you know, if they know their limits or don’t care because they enjoy being drunk and stuff. I just had this really random thought of Jean starting to give compliments to EVERYONE (and Eren is so weirded out when Jean tells him how soft his hair looks) and now I can’t stop wondering what they’d be like so yeah 😂

pairing: jean x gn! reader, eren x gn! reader, armin x gn! reader

wc: 1.3k+

tags: fluff, suggestive content, mentions of alcohol, vomiting, violence/aggression,

a/n: kind of got a little suggestive, but there's no smut. hope you enjoy reading, thank you for the request !!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

armin arlert:

He knows his limit, and on most days, he won’t drink past that, but sometimes on particularly stressful days, Armin thinks, one more drink won’t hurt. That thought is what gets him in trouble.

Usually, he’s easy to fluster when he is sober, but drunk Armin? Everyone is shocked at how unabashedly confident he is.

It does not matter if he has a s/o or not; he will be giggly and touchy and has no filter.

He gets very flushed, rosy cheeks and all.

Eren and Mikasa are unfazed by this; they have seen Armin drunk, but the others are shell-shocked when Armin starts singing back the lewd lyrics they use on him. He whispers them in your ear, and you have to pretend that he isn’t affecting you.

He begins making concoctions that will get him plastered and has to be physically restrained because:

Although it’s fun for him to forget about his worries for a night, he cannot handle his alcohol.

He wakes up with the worst hangovers, says that he will never drink again, which is a lie, but it’s a simple reassurance for the time being.

If everyone thinks he’s flirty and touchy when he’s with them, it just becomes dialed up to 100 when he is with you.

Usually, he gets blushy when you compliment him, but if they try it when he’s drunk? He will dish it back to them ten times worse.

“Yeah, I look pretty? You look even prettier when your clothes are-” “I know I did not hear Armin say what he just said to you. Who knew Arlert had such a foul mouth on him.”

He wants to be touching you 24/7; he’ll lean against you and quietly hum whatever song is playing, and if you push him off to go somewhere, he’ll get whiney and try to follow you wherever you are going.

He’s the type to wait for you outside the bathroom and continue talking to you, that is, if he can’t come inside.

He will try to kiss you, and drunk Armin kisses are almost always sloppy and messy, and as much as you try to push him away, he will end up landing a couple of kisses on your cheek and mouth-’adjacent’ area (his aim is kind of off).

Everyone likes going out to get drinks with him, he’s just fun to be around, and they also love seeing him enjoy himself for once and not worry about everyone else.

eren jaeger:

He is not a lightweight, but like Armin doesn’t get drunk often.

As such, he is usually assigned to taking care of the rest of them.

However, on the rare night where Eren does indulge, he becomes so reckless.

Eren will try to fight everyone, mostly Jean, though. It’s the worst when both of them are drunk and throwing punches (albeit missing most of them).

He will loop you in to participate in his antics, which almost always end up with him on the floor, and you need to pick him up and kiss him better (he plays his injuries up like a drama queen, just to secure a few more of those kisses).

He does get hungover the next day, but he doesn’t mind it too much because it happens so rarely.

Everyone is on high alert when it comes to drunk Eren because nine times out of ten, he is a danger to himself and occasionally can land a pretty mean punch.

One of the things he loves to do before he gets too drunk is to grab your jaw tilt it back to look at him, with a teasing glint in his eyes. He’ll wink at you and pour whatever he’s drinking down your throat and then gently close your mouth. If some of the drink spills from your lips, he’ll lean in and lick it up off your chin before kissing you and walking away to get another drink for himself.

When he’s wasted, he is not nearly as smooth, but Eren still thinks he is. He’ll try to talk to you up, but it’s just slurred words, with a crooked smile he thinks is a smirk.

He won’t be as touchy as Armin is, but there are a good few times where his arms are hooked around your neck, and he’s got you in a bear hug, mumbling, “everyone sucks; they made me get off the bar top, ‘m not talking ‘bout you though, you’re perfect.”

At some point, he does need to be tied up because he doesn’t know when to stop, and he will run away with his drinks if someone tries to take them from him.

When you try to take him home, he won’t recognize that it’s you, and he’ll just keep saying, “I have a partner, and even though you are very pretty, I’m a loyal man.” You just need to wait till he’s almost passed out because he’ll keep up this act as long he’s conscious.

Everyone enjoys his presence, but he can get quite out of control, so he taps out most of the time before he can get too drunk.

Jean Kirstein:

He doesn’t know his limit and, more often than not, crosses it; compared to the other two, he gets drunk more often.

Like Armin, he is a very flirty drunk, but he’s also super sloppy and has no filter whatsoever; he will say the first thing that pops into his mind.

He gets into fights with Eren, mostly because Eren provokes him, but in the same vein, he ends up complimenting Eren, something he would be caught dead doing if he was sober.

“You know what, jaeger? Your hair looks soft, I’ve been trying to figure out what to use for months, and I just can’t figure out your secret.” “Is this some new defensive technique you picked up? How am I supposed to hit you now?”

He genuinely thinks he’s the most competent person in the room, but he’s spewing out gibberish, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings, so you nod and pretend to understand him. Jean thinks his drunk babbling is what’s going to bring total world peace.

Nights with him always end up with Jean puking and spending the rest of the night in your lap, with you running your fingers through his hair. If you dare move your hand from his head, he’ll pout and take your hand and put it back on his head and won’t budge until he feels your fingers against his scalp.

Terrible hangovers; he doesn’t want to speak to anyone and spends the entire day in bed.

He becomes super affectionate with his friends and you. Jean’s a sweet man, but he doesn’t let anyone get to see his vulnerable side, so when he’s drunk, he lets everyone know what he thinks about them.

When Armin isn’t drinking, Jean is usually the one who tries to fluster him the most. When he succeeds, he’ll turn his attention to you and try to make you squirm.

Jean ends up confessing many things when he’s drunk; he tells you that he loves you for the first time when he’s drunk. The following morning, he acts like he doesn’t remember; Jean does, though and ends up properly telling you that he loves you later in the day.

His having no filter and his wayward confessions are also how he gets into fights with Eren. Jean lands a few good punches, but he tires himself out and just opts to hug Eren and tell him how much he appreciates him, despite Eren’s stubbornness.

Everyone loves having him around, but they have to watch out when he gets sappy or look out for him puking (he has ruined a good amount of furniture).

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this !! any feedback is appreciated i don't drink bshshs so i hope this sounded sorta realistic idk, i'm getting through the last couple of my requests now :)

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu, @clean-soap, @nevcrmxre, @conniesspringersgf, @glittrkink

click here to join my taglist

As always, please leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed this, I appreciate it lots <33

[ncitygirls]

friends - na jaemin x f reader

fluff, suggestive

“oh-” even over the hustle and bustle of the show’s green room, you hear the small yelp in surprise. it comes from right beside you, the low, breathless greeting. “is that the last one?”

he’s pointing at the cup ramen in your hand, his eyes scanning the table longingly as the kettle bubbles to a stop. you nod your head in apology as you tear the seasoning packet open before emptying it out in the cup.

“sorry,” you say, knowing it won’t fix anything. you can’t speak for him, but if he’s as hungry as you are right now, it’s the least you can say. “they may have some in the back, or the other green room.”

“ah- no,” your brows rise, wondering if he had already scoured every other inch of the venue. though he quickly backtracks when you look down at your cup guiltily. “i just really like that one in particular.”

“oh?” you quickly shed your previous guilt as you glance up at him, eyes finally leaving the black cup. “okay.”

“you see,” he whispers, making sure no one else hears. “that’s my girl’s favourite. she got me hooked and now i can’t eat anything else.”

your head falls to the side as you wonder if he thinks it’s your job to remedy that. “well she has great taste,” you acknowledge, keeping an eye on the inner indent as you pour the hot water.

“yeah,” he sighs lovingly. or longingly. his eyes still stuck on the cup you refuse to hand over. when you reseal it and reach for the utensils, you’re surprised when he passes you a pair of chopsticks. “i’m jaemin, by the way.”

“y/n,” you shake his hand as you go for the sticks, holding his gaze for a second before you laugh. it’s his turn to tilt his head, a silent question woven into his knit brows. “i just- does your girlfriend like you being this friendly?”

much like the rest of him, you cannot deny how pretty jaemin’s laugh is. the cackle sits a few octaves higher than his voice, and draws a few wandering eyes. “i’d like to think so,” when you glare suddenly, he admits, “just depends who i’m friendly with.”

“that’s a lot of trust she’s put in you,” the praise doesn’t go amiss, his eyes gleaming at the thought. “i’d hate to see you ruin that with little ol’ me.”

“‘there’s a lot i’d ruin on little ol’ you.’” there’s no denying how hot his confession makes you. in a room of lingering eyes, jaemin’s words hang heavily in the air as you lock yours with his. he stuffs his tongue in his cheek, reaching for your ramen and chopsticks, kindly mixing the processed concoction for you. “-is an example of being too friendly, you see.”

“right,” you exhale, watching as he splashes some soy and hot sauce in your cup. “oh- does your girlfriend add that too?”

“mhm, she’s not a real whiz in the kitchen-”

“neither is my boyfriend-”

“-but she makes a mean cup of- wait-” jaemin’s hands stopped long before his ears processed your words. “boyfriend?” when you nod, he tuts. “does your boyfriend know you let other guys make your ramen?”

“i don’t think he’d mind,” the sudden admission makes his brows knit, his eyes searching your smiling face. “just depends who’s making it, you see.”

“and you think he’d approve of me?” he asks expectantly, giving the ramen a final stir before placing the cup in front of you. when you shrug, his lips pout softly. “that’s a shame,” he sighs, a hint of genuine disappointment in his eyes. “i was hoping you and i could be friends.”

“i don’t know,” when you reach for the chopsticks, your hand collides with his, his loose grip still lingering on the cup. “my man is all the friends i need.”

jaemin sucks in a long breath at that, lips pulling taut. “that sounds a little toxic..”

“oh, heaven’s no.” you quickly defend, letting your fingers ghost over the back of his hand. he swallows then, eyes following your digits. “he’s just super affectionate.”

“really?” intrigued by the mystery man you call yours, jaemin can’t help but ask “how so?”

“he’s just-” jaemin can’t help but grin at your coy smile, his skin warming as you try to verbalise this feeling of love. which it must be. it radiates so purely from you. his grin only grows as you admit, “he’s a pleaser.”

“is that so?” pinching your chopsticks, jaemin takes a deep breath in before raising the pair, blowing hard on the noodles before bringing them to your lips. he grins smugly when he finds your waiting mouth. “so you like being pleasured?”

“pleased.” you are quick to correct, even around a mouthful of ramen.

“i’m sure they have the same root.” he runs his thumb over your chin then, mopping up a drop of spilt broth. it’s hard not to lean into it, enjoying the warmth of his touch. “you know,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours as his tongue runs over the same digit. “i’m a pleaser too.”

“really?”

“mhm,” jaemin pinches the sticks before dropping them again. chewing his lip, he swallows as he stares down at you, “i think i could really please you.”

“do you really?” he nods firmly, a hand slipping around your waist. only when you’re flush against him do you sigh an inch from his waiting lips, “and how would you do that?”

jaemin moves to close the space between you, his breath tickling your lips as he admits, “i could think of a couple ways-”

“can- you- two- stop!”

you don’t bother pulling apart. you just let your head fall against his shoulder, his laughter filling the air. if you bothered, you’d lift your head to find dream sat behind you. you’d see some of his friends enjoying the little display, while the rest - mark in particular - cringed both inward and outwardly.

“hyung!” haechan screams, slapping mark’s arm hard. “it was just getting good!”

“no it wasn’t,” jisung corrects, hand clapped to his forehead as he wretches at jaemin.

his lips press then linger on your temple, fingers rubbing the soft skin on your side. “they’re just jealous, baby.”

“i know.” you eye the time and decide it’s time you make your leave, “are you sure you don’t want some?”

“some of what?” looking you up and down, jaemin makes it clear he’s unsure what you’re offering. his thumbs hook under your jaw as he presses his lips to yours. “you eat up, okay?”

“okay,” you mumble before closing your lips around his. “thank you for saving it for me.”

“‘is okay,” the end is lost as he slots his tongue in your mouth, ready to leave you breathless when mark screams again. he presses a kiss to your pouted lips, once, twice and thrice, before backing away. “bye baby.”

“bye.” you breathe before waving at the boys.

when you’re gone, jaemin turns on mark. “you’re a shit friend, you know that?”

[weirdos-am-i-right]

Boyfriend in Training//Peter Parker x reader AU part 3

Part one part two

Really bad at summary’s apparently. Some smut, and shit. Someone asked for a continuation on this, so I figured I’d make some one-shots for it.

You don’t have to read the first two parts to get this one, this one can be a stand-alone, but it’s in the same universe, so.

Requests are open, I will take most requests, unless it’s out of my comfort zone, or I don’t feel like it.

_______________________________________________

"And so, the theoretical study of law constitutes the principles and body of rules that are enforceable in a court of law....." the professor droned on, walking back and forth, occasionally marking something on the chalk board.

Y/n sat in her seat, leaning on her arm, trying to keep her eyes open. Instead of getting the recommended eight hours of sleep, she decided to stay up until 3 am, studying for the exam she had for her minor, economical science.

Peter was sitting a few seats away from her, not caring about whatever the teacher had to say, instead, crossing to focus on his girlfriend. Everyone was surprised when Peter had managed to keep for girlfriend for more than two weeks, but now they had been together for a little over a month, so the news passed as quick as it came.

The leaves were starting to turn pretty shades of red, and orange as the air became fore crisp, and bitter. He actually had a date coming up for a walk in a nearby park that he himself had set up.

"Well, that concludes our time." The professor looked at his watch. "Remember your paper thats due in two weeks, also, we will be arranging our seating schedules this coming Monday, since you all seem to look so miserable in the ones you're in now. If you have any requests for someone you'd like to sit next to, see me sometime before then. Have a good weekend, everyone."

Peter's interest perked up a bit as he gathered his books together. Obviously, it was college, and there were no assigned seats, but this class had been a bit more...rowdy as some would say, so the professor made it necessary. And Peter was more than happy that he finally decided to ease up a bit.

Before Y/n could get out of his sight, Peter rushed over to her, and grabbed onto her hand, kissing her cheek.

"Hi.”

"Hey babe. We still up for tomorrow?" Peter asks, a bit too exited for their 'walk in the park'.

"Yes." She kissed his cheek in return, and then his lips.

"And I'm sleeping at your dorm tonight-"

"To watch the new movie that just came out on Netflix. I know."

"Of course you do." He smiled a little bit too cheekily, knowing exactly what was going to happen fifteen minutes into the movie.  "Why don't you go ahead, and I'll meet you at your dorm, okay?"

"Okay. See you there, bye." She kissed him again, and grabbed her bag.

"Bye." Peter watched her walk off, before going over to his professor.

"Peter, how can I help you?"

"I, Uh, I was wondering if I could make a request for the seating chart."

***********

The movie was playing in the background, casting an illumination on the couple's face. Peter had Y/n sitting on his lap for most of the movie, subtly teasing her and kissing along her jawline, and neck.

"I know what you're doing." She mumbles, and he smirks against her skin.

"I'm not doing anything. I'm just...thinking."

"About what?" She asks, deciding to play the little game he concocted.

"Just some stuff. Like how I haven't fucked you in the past week. How I miss having you naked, and squirming, underneath me. How you submit so easily to me, how much I miss tasting you, or having you cum on my tongue. Can I touch you?" His voice had dropped down to a whisper, his lips right above her ear.

"Yes please:"

"Good girl." His hands slowly made their way down to her shorts, playing with the waistline for a second before dipping into her panties. He touched her clit slightly, making her let out a small gasp. "So wet for me already? I haven't even touched you. You really do like dirty talk, huh, baby? Answer me."

"Yes."

"Hmm. Why don't you stand up and strip? Put on a little show for me?" He smirked as she pouted, he knew she felt shy when he watched her strip, she didn't know how to handle the undivided attention, but he liked seeing her blushy, and cute, and he wanted to make her more comfortable around him.

She slowly took off her shirt, lifting it over her head and folding it, putting it on the chair. Peter sat back against the headboard, his legs spread just a bit. He took off his own shirt and pants, and threw them across the room. He started to rub himself with his palm, his eyes ranking over her. She took off her shorts next, sliding them down her leg slowly, and stepped out of them.

She hesitated before continuing. "Come here, baby." Peter patted his lap, and she happily straddled him. "Now you can continue." She playfully rolled her eyes, and reached around for her bra clasp. She took her bra off, and put it on the floor.

Peter was practically drooling by now. He wanted to grab her wrists, pin her down on the bed, and fuck her til she couldn't think of anything but his name. But he knew she loved the foreplay, and he couldn't deny that he loved it too.

He rubbed his hands over her breasts and she let out a breathy moan, shoving her face into his neck, biting down. He groaned, and pinched her nipple. "Bad girl." He smacked her butt. "Not biting. You know I'm the only one that gets to do the marking up here. To prove that point." He gently kissed her pulse point, then bit down on it, making her whimper, and keen her head to the side.

"Please stop teasing me."

"But that's the fun part." He smirks, licking over the bruise he just made on her neck.

"Please." She pouts, tugging on his hair a bit. "Don't you want to be in me already?" He hesitated for a second before flipping her over on her back, pinning her wrists to the bed with one hand.

"You, my dear, are one good persuader." He tore off her panties, and took off his boxers. "But you're not gonna get your way every time, you know." She giggled at that.

"Yes I will." He huffs playfully. He grabs a condom from the nightstand, sliding it on.

"Yeah, you're right you will." He kisses her, and slowly enters her. As soon as he does she threw her head back, biting her lip.

"Faster, please."

"You want it faster, baby? You want me to be rough," he enunciates his words with a hard thrust. "And fast?" Again. "And hard?" And again.

"Yes, please."

"Then beg." He smirks, grazing her g-spot with his tip.

"Please, Peter. Please, I need it so bad. I need you so bad. Please, Peter." She knew he was a sap for that. And she was right. He started moving faster, and more rough, rubbing her clit with his thumb.

"There you go. Good girl." He praised her, feeling her clench around him, letting him know she was close. "You close? You gonna cum all over my cock like a little cum slut, huh?" The only thing he could think about was how close she was, so he thrusted hard against her g-spot, making sure to bite down on her pulse point. He felt the hot liquid spill from her, and drip down her legs. He felt his own coil snap, and bit down harder on her neck, leaving a bruise.

He panted for a few seconds, then rolled over, sliding out of her a little less gently. She winced, and closed her legs together. "Ouch." She rubbed her thigh. Peter looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm sorry baby, was I too rough?" He asks, brushing hair out of her face.

"N-no. Just be more gentle coming out. I'm just more...you know, sensitive."

"Of course. I'm sorry." He kisses her, and she smiles. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" He sits up, and grabs his boxers. "As much as I love fucking you, this is always my favorite part." He hands her his shirt, and she puts it on.

"Really? Why's that?" She asks, sitting up as well.

"Cause it's the only time you let me take care of you."

"That's not true."

"Yes it is. Don't even try to deny it." He picks her up, and brings her to the bathroom. "I wish you would let me do it more. I like taking care of you."

"I like being independent."

"I know you do. I think thats what makes you so submissive in bed. You take too much control in the real world." Peter sits her on the counter, and spreads her legs with his knee. "Be a good girl, and stay still, okay?" She blushed a bit, and nods. He reaches down and gently wiped the cum off of her, he knew she was still really sensitive, so he always tried to be extremely gentle. She always got shy during this part, she didn't like being naked in front of him like this,'which is why he gave her his shirt. He could feel her closing her legs against his hands.

"Y/n/n." He gave her a stern look, and she opened them again.

"Sorry." Once he finished, he out the towel in the dirty clothes bin, and picked her up again.

"You Wanna shower?"

"Yes. But we actually need to shower." She says, giving him a pointed look.

"Promise."

*********

“Okay class, your new seating charts are up here.” The professor says, taping up a price of paper to the chalk board as the students file into the room. “Please, take a look and go to your new seat. I would like to remind you that I am aware there are no assigned seats in college, but your previous behaviors has proven there needs to be, so thank you for the complaints, but they are ignored.”

Y/n walked up to the seating chart, and looked for her name. “Guess we’re sitting next to each other.” She turned her head, seeing Peter behind her.

“You didn’t even look-” she cut herself off, seeing that she was sitting next to Peter in the back of the classroom.

“Just luck, I guess.” He grabbed her head, leading her to their seat.

“What are you planning?”

“Me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He smirks, and puts his books down on the empty seat next to him.

“Class is starting, so please have find your seats quickly.”

**********

Y/n sat in her desk, leaning her head on her hand while taking notes with the other one. It wasn’t that she didn’t like this class, it was that the professor could never make anything interesting.

She felt Peter’s hand on her knee, and she looked down, then at him. His face was stone cold, and he was just jotting down notes like she was. She didn’t think anything of it, so she continued.

Though, after a couple of minutes, she felt his hands rising up higher, and higher until his hand disappeared under her skirt. Of course he waits until I wear a skirt, she thinks, mentally cursing herself.

Suddenly, his hand is out, and he runs it smoothly down her thigh, and back up, just rubbing her leg soothingly. And for a second, she really thought he was just trying to be a nice boyfriend, giving some nice physical affection to her. For a second.

He placed his hand on her inner thigh, just placing it there under her skirt, drawing little shapes with his finger. He was teasing her. Of course he was. She tried to ignore him, but it got harder when his hand trailed up to her panties, and he drew circles over her clothed clit, just barely applying enough pressure for her to feel it at all.

He then plays with the waistline of her panties, running his finger along it, before dipping his hand in. She covered her mouth, pretending to yawn.

Peter smirked, and tapped her clit with his index finger. “So wet for me.” He mumbles under his breathe.

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too.” She looks at him, and he takes his hands out of her panties. “I-I mean…I..I love you.” She pauses for a second, but then smiles.

“I love you, too.”

[seriouslysnape]

Hi!❣️ Your writing is pretty cool, and I love the way you portray Sev, especially!

If it isn't a bother, of course... Could I make a request? Where Snape and the Reader are expecting, and go through all the nine months (like, through things like cravings, mood swings Snaddy has to endure, buying the child's stuff and decorating the room, all of that), till delivery? Only if you'd like the 'prompt', of course.

Wish you a nice day☺️

I LOVE THISSSSSS. YES DAD SEV >>>

__

Paternal Figure

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language, Emetephobia, Sexual implications.

Word Count: 5,161

“We’re going to be one happy family.”

__

“How much longer?” Severus questioned, eyeing the pregnancy test that was lying face down on the bathroom counter.

You looked at your wrist watch that was secured on your trembling hand. You saw that it had been more than enough time for the pregnancy test to do its job. A quivering sigh flowed from your chest as you reached for the test with trembling fingers.

“It should be ready.” You replied.

Severus sat up straighter from where he sat on the bathroom floor, his blood pumping with eagerness and nervousness. You held the test to your chest for a second with your eyes closed and head lulled towards the ceiling.

You and Severus wanted a baby badly. After being married for a few years, the baby fever was becoming harder to resist between the two of you combined. It started out as a casual thing. Severus first briefly mentioned how there was still an empty room in the house that needed to be occupied. You assumed that he meant as an office space or maybe even a large walk in closet.

But when Severus suggested that the two of you turn that space into a nursery, you knew what he was implying. You had always wanted to have kids with Sev. In the beginning, Severus wasn’t totally sure how he felt about having a baby. He wasn’t great with younger people, and he was always afraid he wouldn’t be a good dad.

However, the longer the two of you were together and the more life you shared together, the more he wanted nothing more than to put a baby in you. He wanted to raise a child and teach it all the wonders of the wizarding world. He wanted your baby to be perfect.

The two of you sat and chatted for a long time about it, not wanting to rush into things. It was a huge deal after all; bringing a human into the world was a life changing ordeal. You talked it over, and you both happily agreed that you would start trying for a baby.

You admittedly became a little obsessed with getting pregnant in the first few months. You tracked your menstrual and ovulation cycles much more than usual, eventually memorizing everything down to the minute. You tried any wizard (and even a few Muggle) tricks in the book to increase your chances of conceiving, including basically pouncing on Severus any chance he was around.

If you had a free minute to spare, you were shoving him into bed and having sex with him. At first, Severus found it rather endearing that you were so excited to have a kid, but he became concerned as time went on. Getting pregnant isn’t always a quick process. Some women can so much as look at their husband and get results while some spend a better half of their life trying to even get a positive pregnancy test.

You were proving to be one of the harder cases.

With each negative pregnancy test, the more frantic you became. You felt like your fertility window was closing in on you rapidly, and if you didn’t get pregnant soon, it’d be too late. The first few negatives didn’t phase you much, but by the fifth or sixth, you were feeling discouraged. Severus was much more patient than you during all of this, holding you flush to him when you burst into tears of frustration.

It had become a monotonous and vicious cycle. You’d try to get pregnant, buy a pregnancy test, get a negative result, and fall into a weeping heap onto the bathroom floor. After one particularly hard let down, Severus stepped in. He was rocking your sobbing frame in his arms, hushing you and comforting you as best he could.

He suggested that the two of you take a break for a while, and that maybe you were trying too hard. The stress couldn’t have been good for you as a whole, and maybe taking a more casual approach would be best.

“Here’s what I’m thinking, my love. You and I take this step by step. We continue life as normal,” He said softly; “If you get pregnant then that’s good, and if you don’t, then we remain calm and try again. If much longer goes by, then we can go see your doctor.”

You nodded into his chest with heartbreaking sobs, agreeing that this had taken a huge toll on your body. You apologized for your crazy behavior, but Severus only gave a light laugh and kissed your head.

“No, no, my dear. Don’t be sorry. I want this just as much as you do.” He consoled, sweeping you off of the floor.

You were a bit apprehensive about Severus’ approach to this, but you were willing to try anything. Fast forward a few weeks later, and this was the first test you had taken since taking Severus’ advice.

“Sev...” You croaked out; “What if it’s negative?”

You were sitting against the door in your tiny bathroom, Severus sitting on the wall across from you. Your knees were almost touching one another’s as he replied.

“Then we accept it, take a few days, and try again. It’ll be alright, [Y/N].” He reassured, resting a hand on your knee in a loving way.

You exhaled deeply, already half expecting to be disappointed. You nodded, and quickly flipped the test so you could read it. Your heart hit your feet and bounced back into your ribcage at the sight. You were stoically silent as you stared in silence at the test.

Severus was watching with a clenched jaw, prepared to comfort you in case it wasn’t what you wanted to see. You kept looking at it for a few more seconds to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The double pink lines were as clear as day.

You were pregnant.

Tears filled your eyes, but they were tears of happiness. You turned the test so he could see it.

“It’s positive,” You said, smiling through the tears streaming your face; “We’re going to have a baby.”

Severus’ jaw fell open and stars of delight shot over his eyes. He himself gazed down at the test as if it would explode right in his hands.

“You’re pregnant...” He breathed out.

You nodded, wiping away at the tears with a genuine laugh. A blinding smile appeared on Severus’ face as he moved to pull you into a tight embrace. A few tears leaked from his eyes as well, the two of you mumbling “I love yous” to each other as you cried out the adrenaline and undeniably glee that you were feeling. It had almost been a year since you started trying, and now it seemed that it had paid off.

You were going to be parents.

__

The first trimester of your pregnancy was less than pleasant. While you were eternally grateful to be carrying your first child, you weren’t too thrilled about the symptoms that came with it. You were violently sick for the first few weeks, basically bringing back up anything you tried to hold down. Even something as mild as pumpkin juice was enough to make you sick just from the smell.

As disgusting as it was, Severus was by your side any time you fell ill.

“It’s okay, darling. Let it all out.” He soothed, rubbing circles onto your back as you let out another hurl.

You seemingly puked up everything you had eaten in the last ten years into the toilet bowl, a new groan escaping your chest every time you had a chance to take a breath. Severus kept your hair out of your face as best as he could, trying not to visibly grimace every time you threw up.

You closed the lid of the toilet for a minute, draping your arm over the top of it and resting your forehead on the heated skin of your forearm.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t want you to see me like this.” You grumbled miserably.

He gave a chuckle, and even though you couldn’t see it, he raised his left hand to reveal his silver wedding ring.

“In sickness and in health.” He said, wrapping his long legs around your from behind, resting his head on your back.

“I think this is an exception to that vow.” You joked, hoping that the relief you were feeling was to signal the end of today’s sickness.

Severus hummed.

“I think that this is exactly what it was referring to,” He corrected, his heart fluttering when you lifted your head with a weak smile; “Just as beautiful as ever.”

You snorted at that, but you were heartwarmed.

“How did I ever deserve you?” You asked, falling into his open arms.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

When you were actually able to have an appetite, you wanted any and every food imaginable. The pregnancy cravings were insanely hard to ignore, and it was even harder to ignore the weird things you craved.

“What...is that?” Severus questioned cautiously as he entered the kitchen, catching you in the middle of biting something he couldn’t even discern.

You looked at him with wide eyes and stopped mid-chomp. You didn’t respond, not even sure how to explain this to him. His gaze averted to the open pantry, and saw that mostly everything had been raided and placed on the kitchen counter. He had noticed that satisfying your cravings had proven to be the most difficult thus far. He inspected the food item in your hand and his stomach lurched when he realized what it was.

“Is that a treacle tart with...” He trailed off, barely able to finish the thought.

You finished his sentence, rather ashamed.

“...pickles.” You confessed.

Severus was sure that his face had turned a nasty shade of green at the thought of your concoction. He shuddered and made you put it down. You had always been creative and experimental in the kitchen, but this was too far.

“Okay, I’ve been supportive of every strange food combination you’ve come up with, but I draw the line at treacle pickle tarts.” He said with a voice full of amusement.

You whined.

“I know it’s weird, but I can’t help it. Everything we have sounds good.”

He scratched the back of his head. He never liked to tell you how to live your life, but there was no way that this was good for you or the baby.

“I don’t think Little One is going to appreciate pickles and desserts.” He noted, placing a hand on your very small baby bump.

“Little One” was the nickname that he had coined for your developing child. You and Severus had decided early on that you wanted to keep the baby’s gender a surprise up until delivery. Severus hated to keep referring to the baby as...well, “the baby”. So he had instinctively come up with all kinds of nicknames along the way.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that Little One is the only reason I want pickles.” You snapped back.

“It’s not the pickles. It’s the pickles with the tart that I can’t stomach.” Severus explained.

You sneered at him, but Severus continued before you could snark back at him.

“I’ll tell you what, princess. How about we whip up a bunch of your favorite foods, and we’ll have a nice dinner together?” He offered.

Your belly grumbled at the sound of that. You nodded in agreement, and you and Severus prepared a heavenly meal.

On top of the all day morning sickness and the nauseating cravings, your hormones were going absolutely nuts. You had never experienced such frequent mood changes like this, and poor Severus was the victim of all your emotional outbursts. It seemed as if you were blowing up at the smallest of details.

“Damn it, Sev. How many times have I told you not to leave your socks on the floor?” You hissed, angrily picking up his dirty socks.

Severus poked his head out of the bathroom that was adjoined to your bedroom, a guilty look on his face.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I left them there.” He said truthfully.

“Just like how you didn’t realize that you left the sink faucet dripping or how you forgot to put the pillows back on the bed when you got up at 10 in the morning?” You mocked, throwing his socks into his laundry basket.

He caught how aggravated you were, and exited the bathroom to talk things over. Severus didn’t want you to be upset with him, but he knew you were just going through a lot of changes and couldn’t really control your emotions well.

“I assure you that I didn’t do those things on purpose,” He said, not even an ounce of irritation in his voice; “I’ll pick up after myself.”

His light and friendly tone made you realize that you had overreacted once again. Severus had not once lost his temper with you, no matter how bad you had nagged him. Your shoulders slumped and you looked at your feet that were close to being covered by your steadily growing bump.

You felt bad for being on his ass about something 24/7. He was trying his best to help you and make your pregnancy as comfortable as possible. You yelling at him all the time wasn’t fair to him.

“I’m sorry, Sev. It’s not you.” You uttered for the hundredth time in the last three months.

He only smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Not to worry, my dear,” He mewled; “I can handle being screamed at for as long as it takes.”

__

The second trimester was actually easier than the first as far as symptoms goes. Your morning sickness had subsided, you had adapted to your ever changing hormones, and you weren’t tempted to eat everything in sight. While the symptoms were still there, they didn’t completely dictate your life.

You and Severus were well into the finer intricacies of planning for the arrival of your baby boy or girl. You were in the process of converting your extra bedroom into a nursery, which was a challenge for Severus. He was a shitty interior decorator, which wouldn’t be an issue if he hadn’t insisted that he decorate the baby’s room.

Severus wanted to be as involved as possible, never wanting you to think that he wasn’t there for you. You were ecstatic with the idea of him taking charge of the nursery, but you soon realized that wasn’t a good idea.

“We are not painting the baby’s room BLACK, Severus.” You protested, eyeing the cans of black paint on the floor.

Severus had gone out and bought all kinds of paint supplies. Paintbrushes, paint rollers, stencils, tape, etc. He was adamant about doing it all by hand (as opposed to using magic; a suggestion that he was horribly offended at), and had taken it upon himself to buy everything.

You had forgotten that there wasn’t much color interest in the world of Severus Snape.

“And why not? There’s black in other parts of the house.” He argued.

You put your hands on your hips, your back beginning to arch from the weight of your five month swelling belly.

“Yes, but this is a baby’s room. I don’t think he or she is going to like it,” You retorted back; “It’ll be too dark and...scary. I want Little One to be comfortable in here.”

Severus looked around. Perhaps, black was too extreme for such a small human. He looked a tad defeated and disappointed in himself. He was trying his hardest. You caught his dejected look.

“Oh, honey. I know you want it to be perfect,” You said, taking his face into your hands; “We can do it together. Maybe we can sneak a bit of black in here somewhere.”

He nodded.

“So, what color should we paint the room?” He asked.

You looked around this time, biting your lower lip in thought. You wanted to have gender neutral colors, and something that would be cozy for the baby.

“How about we paint the walls white? That way we can add pops of color wherever we see fit.” You said after a moment of thought.

Severus agreed, but was holding to your promise to have at least some black in the room. The nursery was an ongoing project, lasting about a week and a half. The crib was the last item placed in the room, and it was complete. You and Severus stood in the middle, basking in the finished nursery.

“It looks great, S.” You said, looking at the black painted changing table and the mobile above the crib.

“It does. I’m glad you helped me.” He admitted, eyeing the moving pictures on the walls.

You wrapped your arms around your husband’s waist, his lips falling to your head in response.

“We’re going to be one happy family.” You announced.

Severus laughed into your hair, his heart beating with hope.

“We already are.”

You had officially made it past the halfway mark, and your due date was quickly approaching. There was still so much to do, and not a lot of time to do it. Your bump was already huge, and you still had another trimester to go. You were getting to the point where swollen feet and an aching lower back was crippling your ability to go out and do much.

You were laid out on the sofa with Severus rubbing your tired feet. You were fighting the aching pain in your back and legs from the unevenly distributed weight from your midsection.

“I really need to go out today.” You winced as another round of soreness flooded your body.

Severus’ careful hands continued to massage the aching muscles of your feet.

“Why, love? You can surely go on a day where you’re feeling in higher spirits.” He said.

While he wasn’t totally wrong, you were at the point where every day was the same as the last. You had a feeling that you wouldn’t have a “higher spirits” day for a while.

“I suppose I could. But I need to get baby clothes, pacifiers, bottles.” You grunted, exhaling heavily.

You really needed to do this, but you just weren’t feeling up to it. Then you had an idea. Since Severus didn’t get to put all his effort into the nursery, you thought you could give him a second chance.

“Severus, could you possibly go out and buy baby stuff today?” You suddenly asked.

You were honestly expecting him to say no, considering he knew nothing about baby fashion. Instead, his face brightened and he leapt up from the couch.

“Of course! Why didn’t you just ask?” He queried, giddy with joy.

You laughed at his anticipation, giving him a few instructions.

“Alright, Sev. Don’t buy anything ridiculous or anything that’s made of uncomfortable material,” You said; “And do NOT get anything Slytherin related. As much as you would like it, we have no clue what Little One is going to be sorted into when he or she is old enough.”

Severus groaned.

“Not even a-”

“No Slytherin stuff.”

“Well, what about a-”

“No, Severus.”

He groaned again, but accepted your request. As badly as he wanted his daughter or son to be a Slytherin, there was always the chance that they wouldn’t be. He’d love them regardless of what House they were in, but it would tickle him to death if they were a Slytherin.

So Severus went out into Diagon Alley with extra pep in his step, jittery as he went from store to store getting stuff for his little girl or boy. Severus had never paid much attention to baby clothes, and now that he was looking, his heart was swelling with excitement.

There were so many cute sweaters, onesies, socks, and pajama sets that absolutely made Severus burst with joy. He would pick out about a dozen outfits to start out with, knowing that you’d have to go buy more once the baby was older. But each time he thought he had enough, he’d spot two or three more outfits that he just had to buy.

He could not WAIT to see his baby in all of this stuff. It had obviously been a while since he was a child, and he was amazed at all of the new things that had been invented to make parenting easier and childhood more fun.

He bought a pacifier for every day of the week, and enough toys that would last your kid through kindergarten. He bought blankets and stuffed animals and anything else that a baby MIGHT want. Your baby was going to be spoiled to the max.

Truth be told, Severus went a little overboard with his purchases. He came back with no less than ten bags full of baby materials. You not-so-gracefully lifted yourself from the couch when he entered, several bags hooked onto each of his arms. He had a proud smile plastered on his face.

“Oh Merlin, Severus! What all did you buy??” You questioned, eyes bugging out at all the goodies in front of you.

“Clothes, pacifiers, bottles. Everything you asked for.” Severus stated innocently, you rifled through the bags at all the baby wonders.

“And toys, blankets, and stuffed animals.” You finished his list.

You looked at Severus with an entertained smile, his cheeks glowing red.

“I just want Little One to be happy.” He shrugged meekly.

You let out a soft “awh” and captured his soft lips in a sweet kiss. He already loved this baby so much that it melted your heart.

“With you as their dad, they absolutely will be.”

__

You had never been happier to enter your third and final trimester. You were in the home stretch, and you were so excited to meet your baby. You were about to pop like a balloon and, quite frankly, you had enough of it. Don’t make any mistake about it, you had cherished every moment of being pregnant, but you were ready to get some somewhat decent sleep without being kicked in the ribs every 5 minutes.

Although, with a newborn around, you weren’t sure how much sleep you would get.

Over the course of your pregnancy, Severus had become more and more protective the more your baby grew. Now that your due date was only a few days out, he jumped at any sudden movement or noise. He had eyes and ears like a hawk. He came barreling into the living room, completely naked and dripping with water from where he had just stepped into the shower.

“Darling, what was that? Are you alright?” He asked frantically as if he had just heard an airstrike.

You looked up from your book, readjusting the pillow that was underneath your massive belly to support the weight.

“Severus. I sneezed.” You declared.

Relief washed over him, and he ran a hand through his damp hair.

“Oh. Do you need anything?” He asked you for the millionth time that evening.

You laughed shortly, nodding your head.

“Yes. I’m fine,” You said; “Please try to enjoy your shower.”

Severus had been on your tail nonstop for the last three weeks. Even though most pregnancies go the full 40 weeks, your doctor said that labor could be expected once you hit 36. Sev didn’t want you out of his sights in case you went into labor early. He didn’t want to miss anything.

You had begged him to break away just for a minute, for his sake and yours. He padded back to the shower, ignoring the way his heart was thumping in his chest. You went back to your book, grinning to yourself at your anxious husband.

Once Severus was showered and somewhat calmer, you had grown tired and were ready to get in bed. Growing and carrying a baby had really tanked your energy levels, but Severus didn’t mind going to bed early. As long as he knew you and the baby were safe, he was content.

He laughed out loud when you slid into bed wearing only a pair of panties and a t-shirt that you had used a spell to stretch out. It was the only sleepwear that fit you due to your risen belly.

Getting comfortable was next to impossible, but you had gotten used to it over the last few months. You didn’t mind, because you knew it’d be back to normal soon. Severus was eyeing your tummy, looking to you with expectation once you were settled.

“Go ahead, Sev.” You giggled, knowing what he wanted.

Every single night since you had been pregnant, Severus would rub your belly and tell the human growing inside of you goodnight. Severus shimmied down to where his face was in front of your bump. He lifted the shirt up to reveal your bare belly. He left a kiss on the stretched skin, carefully placing both of his hands on you.

“Hello in there,” Severus said, smiling proudly when he felt the baby move at the sound of his voice; “Are you still kicking your mother?”

You even nodded at that, thinking about all the times that the baby had soccer kicked your ribcage or hit your bladder just right. You placed one hand over one of Severus’, and put your other in his hair as he spoke.

“I’m so ready to meet you. I love you so much already. Other than Mum, I never thought I could ever love someone this much,” Severus spoke gently; “You two are my whole world.”

You rubbed his hair as you listened. Severus had been nothing short of amazing during this process. He was more than you could ever ask for. This baby was going to be loved endlessly.

“I don’t know how great of a father I’ll be. I didn’t exactly have ideal parents. I admit that I don’t have a model to go off of. But I will love you no matter what,” He spoke; “I hope you sleep well, Little One. I can’t wait to see you.”

He pressed another kiss to the side of your belly, before returning to your side. You were misty eyed at his words, turning so you were facing him.

“Oh, Severus. You’re going to be a wonderful dad. I’ve seen the way you love this child,” You assured; “Little One is going to love you. And there’s no one else I’d rather bring a baby into this world with.”

Severus still had a modest amount of nerves, but it was drowned out with joy. He was so ready for this baby.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you, Sev.” You whispered back.

You leaned to kiss him, but just as your lips touched, you felt a contraction and a massive gush of fluid flushed out between your legs, soaking both of your lower halves. A startled gasp fell from your mouth, and Severus eyes grew about three times their normal size. You both knew what that meant.

Little One was about to make his/her entrance into the world.

__

Getting to the hospital from the time that labor began was a blind rush. Severus was positively panicked, which didn’t help your attempts to remain relaxed. He had spent 9 months preparing for this moment, and he was still caught off guard.

The hospital was busy, but you had a team of nurses and doctors ready to go. You were wheeled into a delivery room, your doctor checking to see how dilated you were. He let you know that you had one of the fastest dilations he had ever seen, because you were already at 10 centimeters. There was no time for an epidural or a spell.

It was time to push.

The nurses got your legs into delivery position, Severus taking your hand as the doctor and nurses guided you through it. You gave a hard push, screaming bloody murder and squeezing the circulation out of Severus’ hand.

“You’re doing great, my love. Keep pushing.” He praised you.

Your head fell back onto the pillow with gruff, heavy breaths. You were filled with a pain you couldn’t describe. You needed this baby out. The doctor gave you a second to rest, before instructing you to push again. You took a deep breath, every muscle in your body tensing up as you pushed. Severus scrunched his nose at how badly you were hurting his hand, but he didn’t dare say anything.

The baby’s head and shoulders were out, ear splitting cries echoing through the room. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Severus peeked between your legs, and you saw the way his face filled with pure love as he saw your baby for the first time.

“Oh, [Y/N]. Little One is gorgeous...” He breathed, wanting you to push again so you could be able to see; “Push again, darling. You’re almost there.”

The nurses and Severus were encouraging you as you pushed hard a few more times, your baby finally entering into the world. Severus was a little too squeamish to cut the cord, but he watched every single movement as the doctors and nurses cut the umbilical cord and got them cleaned up. You were breathing heavily, your entire body shaking from the strenuous action. You whimpered out to Severus, who had a better viewpoint than you did.

“Is the baby okay? Please tell me the baby’s okay...” You whined out, desperate to see him/her.

Severus was close to crying, but it was the happiest he had been in his entire life.

“The baby is perfect. You did so well, my love.” He said, kissing your sweaty forehead.

The chaos in the room died down, and one of the nurses had swaddled the crying baby. She gave a huge, kind smile and set the baby in your arms.

“Say hello to your baby girl.” She cooed.

Tears fell from your eyes as she was placed into your arms. Her cries dwindled out at the feeling and sound of your and Severus’ voices. She was the most stunning baby you had ever seen. Severus felt something awaken in him. A side of him that had been itching to come out.

“A girl...oh, a girl.” You cried happily.

Severus sniffed, holding back tears.

“She’s beautiful. She’s perfect.” Sev croaked.

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her small baby whimpers making his heart explode. The two of you sat in silence, raking over your baby’s perfection. After a minute, you looked up at Severus with a smile.

“I just thought of something we have to do.” You said.

Panic flashed over his face again. You had done everything he thought. What could there possible be to do?

“What is that, darling?” He acquired.

You giggled, kissing Severus’ cheek.

“We’ve got to pick a name for her.”

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 3

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous →Part 2

Next →Part 4

Never before had you dreaded something more than you dreaded arriving for work the morning following your incident with Keishin. More than anything, you hoped he was thoroughly pissed at you and had left for work early that day so that the two of you wouldn’t have to see each other, but much to your displeasure and horror, when you stepped into the store that morning, he was sitting at the front counter, waiting for you.

How was he not pissed at you after what you had said to him? 

When the sound of the front doors sliding open filled the otherwise silent building, leaving the keys in your hand useless as Keishin had already unlocked the store, you gripped the keys tightly and swallowed hard when he looked up at you. He didn’t say anything at first, maybe because he was waiting to see if you would make the first move, but after last night you were done making first moves when it came to him.

Averting his gaze and dropping your head low, you shoved the keys back into your pocket and headed for the back room to put your stuff away and get this day over with. 

Just as you were about to open the door to the back room, Keishin cleared his throat and you stopped in your tracks, head turning to look at him without thinking about it. 

“Good morning, Y/N.” This was the very first time he had greeted you first, and on top of that, the very first time he had ever used your name. 

You weren’t sure how to respond, confusion and excitement mixing in your body to create an overwhelming concoction. “Good morning,” you mumbled in response before disappearing into the back before he could do anything else out of the ordinary, like God forbid initiate a conversation or something.

You took your sweet time getting ready, delaying heading out to the front of the store as long as possible to give Keishin ample time to leave. After about fifteen minutes or so, you emerged only to find him sitting right where he had been before, newspaper sprawled on the counter and a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Shouldn’t you have left by now?” The questioned slipped past your lips before you even had the chance to filter it through your head.

Eyes wide, Keishin was surprised that you had spoken to him almost as much as you were. “We’re expecting a big delivery today, so I’m sticking around,” he answered. “You’ve never handled one by yourself so my mom asked me to show you how it’s done.”

Your heart sank, your stomach twisted, your knees felt weak. So he was going to be here with you all day long? “Perfect,” you groaned, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm in your tone. “That’s just awesome. Great.”

“Listen, it’s not my idea of an ideal day either, but it is what it is,” he said. “So why don’t we just put last night behind us, chalk it up to exhaustion and the influence of alcohol on my part, and move forward?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, the fact that you couldn’t seem to figure him out thoroughly starting to irritate you. “How are you not angry at me?” you questioned him. “I was . . . horrible last night.”

You had spent the entire night after getting home thinking about the horrendous way you had behaved. The things you had done and said made you feel awful and you couldn’t understand how Keishin wasn’t on the brink of smacking the shit out of you right now.

“It’s fine.” He flashed a smile, trying his best to prove that he wasn’t dwelling on the past. “I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

Looking around to double check that the two of you were the only ones in the store, you lowered your voice before speaking. “But I put my hands on you. You can really just forget that?” Heat swelled in your cheeks as you recalled the less horrible events that had taken place.

“I touched you too,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, but yours was an accident.” You weren’t sure why you were saying all of this stuff; it was almost like you wanted him to be angry at you. Who knows, maybe you did. “I called you a burnout.”

Keishin let out a booming laugh at that. “Take a good long look at me, kid.” He smirked, gesturing to himself. “You really think I’ve never been called worse?”

“I don’t think that’s the point,” you breathed out.

Keishin opened his mouth to speak, but before he let a word out, he changed his mind and pressed his lips together. In the meantime, he watched you, the cogs in his head obviously working hard. “You’re an odd one, you know that?” He stood up, walked over to you, and set a hand on your shoulder. “I said it’s fine, so just forget about it, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, finally giving in. 

“Good. Now, get to work, because this place isn’t going to run itself and I’m only here to help with the delivery, so until then, I’ll be napping on the couch in the back. Wake me up when the truck gets here.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Keishin gave you a pat on the head and disappeared into the back room without another word.

You stood in place for a moment, unsure if the fact that he had forgiven you so easily was a relief or not. You didn’t allow yourself to worry too long about that though, because, like Keishin had said, you had work to do and the store wasn’t going to run itself. And, if your memory served you correctly, you had some sweeping to do in the back corner.

For about two hours, you fell back into your normal workday routine, completely forgetting about the events of the previous night or the fact that Keishin was napping in the back. That was, until you saw the delivery truck pull up in front of the store and remembered you had been given the task of waking the sleeping man. 

Heading into the back, you moved slowly and quietly even though it didn’t matter if you woke Keishin since that was what you were supposed to do anyway. 

“Keishin,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. “The delivery truck is here.”

Of course, he didn’t even budge at that. Nervously, you stepped closer to the couch, unable to ignore the fact that Keishin looked completely different when he was asleep. The usual frown or cocky grin he sported was nowhere to be seen and he didn’t seem as intimidating when his eyes were closed and his breathing was so slow and rhythmic. 

“Keishin.” You reached out and placed your hand on his shoulder like he had done to you earlier and shook him slightly. Still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you were unsure what to try next aside from shouting right in his face. If only he had warned you he was a heavy sleeper. 

Deciding to try one last thing before you resorting to screeching, you leaned closer to his ear, planted your hand on his chest—a brief memory of how you had touched him last night flashing in your mind—and shook him once more while you spoke. “Keishin, the delivery truck is here,” you said, not whispering but also not being too loud.

Thankfully, the mixture of shaking him and speaking directly into his ear seemed to finally do the trick and his eyes shot open. Immediately, you jumped back, not wanting him to be weirded out by how close you were to him. 

Eyes travelling up to meet yours, Keishin yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Truck’s here?” he clarified.

“Yeah, it just arrived,” you told him, waiting for him to get up. “You should have told me you were a heavy sleeper. I was about to scream or pour water over you or something.”

Keishin cringed at the thought of that. “Well, thank goodness you didn’t. Next time, just pinch my nose or tickle me or something . . . anything but water.”

“Next time?” you asked. “You plan on taking naps on the couch often?”

“It’s my favourite place to nap. You should try it sometime,” he said before heading for the door. “Come on, let’s get this delivery over with. Try to learn fast so I don’t have to teach you again.”

“I’ll try my best.”

As you had pretty much expected, the delivery had been pretty straight forward. After helping the delivery man unload all of the boxes into the storage room and signing off on the delivery, the most time-consuming and complex part of the process was taking an inventory of the new supplies, which you picked up on pretty quickly. 

Keishin showed you how to mark down the new delivery on the clipboard kept in the storage room and where to input the total count for each item. From there, all you had to do was make sure you had received everything and had the correct number ordered. 

“Pretty easy, right?” He glanced at you out the corner of his eye as the two of you worked together at counting the inventory, keeping an ear open for customers in the process.

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem hard. Just time consuming,” you agreed. 

“Exactly. We usually get a big delivery like this about once a month, then smaller deliveries throughout the week for more perishable items, as you already know.”

You nodded, quickly becoming lost in the repetitive task of counting and writing down the amount on the clipboard. Weirdly enough, you found that you didn’t actually hate taking inventory; the simple task was actually kind of calming and passed the time effortlessly. 

“50,” you muttered under your breath, jotting down the number in the correct box right after you finished counting. When you turned back to start on the next box, you caught Keishin looking in your direction. “What?” You furrowed your brows at him. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” he responded, quickly elaborating when you shot him a confused look. “Well, more specifically, why you took this job.”

You shrugged as you continued working. “I already told you. I need the money.”

“Right, so you can move out on your own. But why?”

Your hands stopped grabbing items and your mind stopped counting, making you lose track. “Because I’ve been waiting for as long as I can remember to live my own life and now that I have the opportunity, I’m not going to pass it up.”

“But wouldn’t you much rather be going to school? Surely you don’t want to work in a place like this for the rest of your life.”

You sighed heavily. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“I’m just curious,” Keishin said. “I want to understand you better.”

“I don’t think you could truly understand unless you experienced the childhood that I did.”

Stopping his work as well, Keishin leaned against the shelf and crossed his arms over his chest. “Try me.”

Rolling your eyes, you accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to give up. “First thing’s first, I’m not saying my childhood was tragic or anything. My parents didn’t beat me. They fed me and clothed me and everything a parent should.” You started, waiting for him to nod before continuing. “I was just never allowed to live my own life or make my own decisions. I ate what my parents wanted me to eat, I wore what they wanted me to wear. I took the classes they wanted me to, I was friends with who they thought would make a good friend. They went overboard on trying to get me to do what they thought was best for me. I was never old enough or mature enough to know what I really wanted. I lived in a controlling dictatorship.”

“What about soccer?” Keishin asked, proving that he had actually remembered the conversation the two of you had had on your first day at the store. “You told me you used to play.”

You smiled fondly at the thought of your high school soccer team. “That was the only thing I ever got to pick for myself . . . and it took months of convincing, and in the end, I was only allowed to continue because I was good at it. The fact that I genuinely enjoyed it never came into account for my parents.” Your smiled faded slightly. “Sometimes they even managed to drain the fun from that as well, but I refused to let them ruin it for me because it was the only thing I had that was mine.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Every day . . . but this is more important right now.”

Keishin was silent for a few moments while he processed everything you had said. “Sounds like everything needed to have a purpose.”

“Pretty much. If something had no chance of providing success in the future, it was a waste of time.”

“So the plan is to work so you can afford your own place, then go to school next year? How are you going to afford school?”

“Well, if I had followed my parents plan for me and started working toward a law degree, they would have paid for it. But since I’ve decided to do my own thing now, I’m just lucky they haven’t kicked me out of the house yet . . . so I guess I’ll have to get a scholarship or apply for student loans. I’ll basically be scraping by, so I’ve applied for a bunch of community colleges and I’ll go from there I guess.”

Fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, Keishin lit one before sticking it between his lips. “What do you want to do?”

You laughed slightly at that. “I have no idea. I was never allowed to have hobbies or interests, so I don’t even know what I like. I just know what I don’t like. If I could do anything though, I’d apply for the University of Tokyo. They have a great soccer program. I just want to play soccer again.”

Keishin smiled. “Just soccer?”

“For now, yeah. I’ve learned that I’ll have to take life step by step, so that’s the first major goal. I’ll probably take some first year classes and see what I like and go from there. I think it’s okay to not have a set-in-stone plan sometimes . . . after all, this is the first time in my life I’ve never had my future planned out for me. It’s kind of exciting . . . scary, too, but exciting.”

Keishin sighed contently as he watched your eyes light up when you talked about the things you wanted to do in the future. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded. “Sure.”

“So what was the point of what happened last night?” he inquired. “And, while we’re at it, the past few weeks as well. How do I fit into this grand plan of yours?”

You felt your heart pound against your chest. “I thought we were forgetting about last night?”

“We are,” he assured you. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just curious, is all.”

You thought for a moment, unsure how to phrase exactly how you were feeling. At first, you were inclined to take him up on his offer to not answer, but after how nice he had been to you today, you felt you owed him at least that. 

“Originally, I was in a pretty messed-up head space and I wanted to use you to get back at my parents,” you told him truthfully, “. . . but after last night, I did some serious thinking and realized that wasn’t the case. What I really want is to prove to my parents that not everything that is different or ‘not according to plan’ is bad. You have an  . . . alternative look about you,” you tried to phrase that as respectfully as possible, causing Keishin to chuckle, “but you’re not a bad person or, despite my harsh words last night, a burnout. You coach volleyball for high school kids and you help out at your family’s store and even though I’ve been pretty horrible to you, you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You paused, unsure if you should say the last part or not. “I don’t know, I just think that maybe if they met you, they might realize that I’m capable of making good choices for myself even if it doesn’t fit their predetermined mold of my life.”

“You think I’m a good choice?” he asked, taken aback by your honesty.

“Yeah.” You eyed him while he took a drag from his cigarette and let the smoke spill from his lips. “Maybe not the nicotine addiction part, but hey, no one’s perfect.”

Keishin chuckled before putting his smoke out. “Okay, I’ve got a deal for you.”

You cocked a brow at him. “What?”

“If I pretend to be your boyfriend and help you fix things with your parents, you have to apply to the University of Tokyo and follow your dream of playing soccer.”

You were thoroughly perplexed. “Both conditions of that deal only really benefit me. What do you get out of it?”

He just shrugged. “Nothing.”

You scoffed. “Well, as generous and sketchy as that sounds, there is no way I would be able to afford the University of Tokyo on my own and I don’t think any amount of ass-kissing could make my parents agree to pay for me to go there to play soccer and figure life out.”

“Hey, one step at a time, right?” He used your own words against you. 

You contemplated his offer for a moment. “You’re really okay with that? Even though you get nothing but more work out of it?”

“I suggested it, didn’t I?”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “You’d really pretend to be my boyfriend? Even though I’m just some rebellious kid?”

“Your opinion of me changed,” he pointed out. “Why can’t my opinion of you change too?”

“Fair enough,” you conceded. “Well, if you’re absolutely positive you won’t regret it when you wake up tomorrow morning, I’ll happily accept your deal. Thank you.”

Keishin turned back to the stack of boxes and promptly returned to the task at hand. “You’re welcome.”

You watched him work and quietly hum to himself while he did so. This time, it was his turn to catch you staring. “What?” he looked over at you.

“I just didn’t peg you for such a softy is all,” you joked. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he scoffed at you. “Just don’t fall in love with me or anything, kid.”

You smirked. “Whatever you say, old man.”

[poptod]

Hiya, can u do a ahkmenrah x reader request where the reader is ill and ahk is ofc panicking but trying his hardest to help you, thank u <33 n can it be at the museum

notes: thanks for requesting! ive done similar stuff so i decided to change it up a little, still follows the prompt tho. hope you like it!

warnings: cancer. WC: 1.3k

+

You hadn't spoken since the news. Voices of doctors and relatives faded out as your vision zeroed onto nothing, willing yourself into an abyss of silence. There were options, of course––they said something about chemical treatments, healing mushrooms to help you along, CBD oil and lotion to soothe the soon-to-come, overbearing pain. And, of course, the reminder that new treatments were coming out every day.

Archivers in museums didn't get paid much; that meant that, unfortunately, you couldn't really afford much more than basic, more dangerous treatments. A pit inside you whispered it was pointless, that death was closer than you thought. Still, you returned to your place of work in the evening, your feet dragging along the floor as you stared blankly forward, automatically unlocking and locking the door without thinking.

Moving like sludge through muscle memory.

You stood in the middle of the room, crowded by people––exhibits, at least––who didn't know your ailment, or the words of the doctor that still rung in your ears…

"Stage 4," he'd said, but you didn't hear the words surrounding that piece of information. Actually, the ongoings of yesterday were lost to you, absorbed by only a few words and blank stares.

"(Y/N)?"

The darkness on the edge of your eyes began to fade.

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

Ahk was standing in front of you, his hand on our shoulder as he attempted to meet your wandering eye.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm okay," you mumbled, unable to look at his face.

Despite your words, it was clear to anyone who saw you that you were not in fact alright, and Ahk frowned, wishing you would speak the truth.

"Let's go somewhere quieter," he suggested, and led you up the stairs to the marine exhibits.

Dark blue light rippled around you, the sound of bubbles and swishing water the only accompaniment to your quiet walk. Ahkmenrah stood as always at your side, matching your crawling pace, and pausing with you to stare at the massive tanks.

Still, you didn't speak, and Ahk was forced to coerce you into giving up whatever was bothering you.

"What happened?" He asked, standing in front of you to keep you from walking. You had your arms crossed, and your shoulders pulled up tightly.

"I went to the doctors," you said with clear discomfort.

Ahk nodded––you told him what a doctor was a few months ago by now.

"It's cancer," you said as you sucked in a sharp breath, nodding shakily. "I don't expect you to know what it is, but.. it isn't good."

"You'll be alright though, won't you?" He asked, his brow knotted tight. "You people have so many different medicines than we ever had access to."

"We don't have all the answers," you said softly.

"Then... what will you do?"

He stepped closer to you, sharing his warmth with your dull, ashen skin. But his question––despite its relevance––left you spinning, staring out past his shoulder as your expression fell into further disrepair.

"... nothing," you finally breathed out.

Answers and possible outcomes were swirling around your waking and sleeping consciousness for hours on end, without pause or rest. The price of treatment, the methods, and how you would continue to live after chemotherapy, if you even lived at all. You could kill yourself slowly in two different ways––by cancer and by chemotherapy, or you could die a more natural death with sickness like black ink stretching over your organs just as a spider weaves massive webs.

"Nothing??" He hissed. "You can't do nothing, have you lost your mind?!"

"I can't really afford the treatment, Ahk," you whispered, as tears who had been building for hours finally fell over flushed cheeks. "And if I do get it, I'm never going to be the same after. And that's if I live. Even if I get it, the doctor said it's not likely it'll help in time."

His hands pulled your face in, the bottom of his palms on your jaw and his fingers stretching out behind your neck to pull you in.

"I can't let you die," he said, his voice breaking.

You stared at him with weary eyes, dragged down by the dark circles beneath them. There was little else you could think to say to him, so you leant forward on shaky toes, and pecked his forehead in a kiss that was barely ever there.

"I'll think about it," you mumbled, and left.

For weeks you kept coming to work faithfully, only calling in sick when the chemotherapy side-effects left you bruised and exhausted. Your hair was already falling out, but Ahk insisted he didn't mind, and you believed him––in ancient Egypt, it was customary to shave your head for religions undertakings.

Each evening when you entered the museum, Ahk would come greet you and take you to the pillows and blankets he piled up in the marine exhibits, allowing you the comfort of soft light and whale calls while he prepared a tea for you. He wouldn't tell you what it was, but you could tell it was some sort of ground root you assumed was a healing tactic from ancient Egypt. While you were sipping at the warm concoction, he massaged the aching muscles, and applied an ointment Larry had gotten for his arthritis.

Sometimes he would tell you stories––only if you asked, of course, but you enjoyed the gentle rumble of the Pharaoh's voice, and the magic happenings within his tales. Rueful Gods and Goddesses littered the stories, within vivid imagery he piece together in your failing mind.

"Ahk," you murmured on one of those harder days that, for some reason (Ahk), you returned to the museum.

He stopped mid-story, turning expectantly to you. You raised your arms to him.

"Come here," you said, and he obeyed, gingerly sliding himself down next to you in the makeshift bed.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked, his nose brushing yours.

"No," you chuckled with a weak smile.

You fell asleep within a minute, passing out in Ahkmenrah's embrace holding you tight to his chest. When your breathing settled into a slower in and out, tears welled in his eyes, falling upon your shared pillow as his shoulders began to shake. His thumb gently rubbed your cheek, relishing in little touches and gestures.

Memorizing. Just in case.

He took care of you, as much as he could within his own death, and continued to warm your tea, make sure you were eating, and comfort you with various medicines and stories. Curled up in the blanket nest, you did your best to smile whenever you met his eye.

And then one day, you didn't come to the museum. Ahk caught McPhee saying something to Larry; something about you, and something along the lines of 'they didn't call in sick'. Larry took a visibly deep breath, speaking in hushed tones Ahk couldn't hear from his distance.

You didn't come the next day, either, nor for the entirety of the week. In attempts to find answers Ahk grilled Larry for what had happened, but he didn't know, as you were an intensely private person who only gave their number to their employer.

But you never came again, and Ahk could feel himself slipping, the image of you in his head already blurry and unclear. He tried to remember your warmth, the softness of your skin, and your breath on his bare chest, and at times he could feel your weight still on him. It only made him yearn all the more, reaching and almost feeling something that no longer existed. Lain on his chest and too far to reach.

He learned that silence is an answer in the most hellish way possible.