#but now there's so much space around the edges they won't even stay in there

[woodelf68]

Anyone else remember when orange juice cartons used to be 64 oz. instead of only 52? :(

[maxtermind]

“your opinion of me won't change, right?” + lando (who kinda has a fuckboy reputation but fell for the reader)

“your opinion of me won't change, right?”

( event masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ★:summary:: the one where a fuckboy gets turned into a loverboy? ★:feat:: lando norris x reader ★:genre:: hurt/comfort

the knock on your door comes around midnight when you're almost going to bed. you don’t expect anyone, especially not him.

for a second, you stand still, unsure of what to do with heart thudding. but the persistent rapping doesn’t stop, and despite the days of silence between you two, you already know who it is.

when you swing the door open, lando stumbles in, his shoulders slumped, eyes clouded with alcohol and something darker. his hair is a mess, damp from the rain, and he reeks of whiskey and regret.

“y/n,” he breathes out, almost as if he’s relieved to see you. but you’re not relieved at all. you’re angry, confused, and hurt and looking at him really hit you so hard that you had to squeeze the ends of your his t-shirt to not stumble.

you close the door behind him, and he sways unsteadily. he’s drunk—drunker than you’ve ever seen him. his clothes are disheveled, his usual cool confidence replaced by something pitiful, something raw.

"lando, what the hell are you doing here?" your voice is sharp, meant to sting, because his presence alone already rips at the wounds that haven't even started healing yet.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he looks at you with those familiar blue eyes, the same ones that once made you weak in the knees, but now… they just bring back the pain. his lips tremble as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t.

"you—" lando slurs slightly, stepping forward, hands outstretched. "you weren't… supposed to leave. you—" it washed over you like a bucket of cold water and you're already moving away from his touch.

"don't." your voice cracks, and you hate how fragile you sound. you take another step back, putting more space between you two. "don’t come here like this again."

lando rubs his face, pacing around your small living room slowly, stumbling over air. he’s spiraling, trying to collect his thoughts, but the alcohol muddles his brain and you can see the struggle on his face.

“i didn’t mean to… i didn’t want you to leave,” he mutters. he turns to you, desperation in his eyes. "i messed up, okay? i know that. but i… fuck, i’m trying, y/n."

you cross your arms, every muscle tense. "trying? you’re drunk, lando. that’s not trying."

his face crumples at your words, and he stumbles back, this time collapsing onto the couch like his legs can’t hold him up anymore. his hands run through his hair, pulling at it in frustration, in agony.

you vividly remember what happened a few nights ago when a girl texted him asking if he was up for 'another' great night. it wasn't easy being with someone while knowing he could have anyone in the entire world and with his past, you were already always on the edge of letting your insecurities out.

it just led to a bigger argument where instead of assuring you how you were the only one he ever wanted, he asked you to either start trusting him or leave.

so you left.

"do you know how much i fucking hate myself?" his voice is hoarse now, barely above a whisper, but the rawness in it cuts through you like a knife as it brings you back to the present. "i tried to be better for you. i… i tried."

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying to stay firm, but it’s hard. it's always been hard with him. "you have a funny way of showing it."

he lifts his head slowly, tears brimming in his eyes now, and the sight is enough to make your resolve crack just a little. you've never seen him cry before. not like this.

“your opinion of me won’t change, right?” his voice breaks, and you freeze. the vulnerability in his question sends a jolt of pain straight to your chest. he sounds small, defeated, like the weight of everything he’s been carrying has finally crushed him.

“lando…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you finish.

"because everyone else—" he pauses, taking in a shaky breath. "they all think they know me? that i’m just some… some asshole who doesn’t care, who’s not capable of… anything real? but i’m not. i’m not, y/n. you know that, right?"

the room feels heavy, like the air is thickening with every word. you want to say something, to tell him that you believed in him once, that you saw the good in him, the real lando, but it’s not that simple anymore.

"i fell for you," he says, voice trembling, eyes glistening as he stares up at you like you're the only thing that can save him. with the rapid blinking of his eyes, tears start to fall and so does your resolve. "i wish i didn’t put you through this, but i did. and i didn’t know how to be that guy… the one you deserved. but i tried. i’m still trying."

it’s quiet for a moment, just the sound of his ragged breathing and your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

you look at him, really look at him. his face is flushed from the alcohol and the tears, but beneath that, you see something more. he’s broken in ways you never let yourself see before.

all the cockiness, the bravado, the charm—it was all just a shield. he never thought he was good enough for you either, and maybe that’s why you left. you repeat it to yourself but it was a losing war.

the old lando wouldn’t be here, in front of you, crying and baring his soul. he wouldn’t have admitted any of this. isn't that reason enough to give him another chance?

he was selfish before, reckless, hiding behind his reputation as the playboy, the fun guy who never cared too deeply about anything. but now, now you see the cracks. you see the vulnerability he’s tried so hard to bury and it kills you to give in but the words leave you before you can stop yourself.

"i thought you didn’t care," you admit softly, feeling all your defenses start to crumble. "that’s why i left, lando. i didn’t think you could care."

"i fucking love you," he lets out a bitter laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. not believing what you were saying at all. "i care too fucking much. i just… maybe i don’t know how to show it right."

you sigh, sitting down beside him on the couch, still keeping a little distance between you. "it’s not about showing it right. it’s about showing it at all."

he looks at you, his gaze softer now, more open. "i’m sorry. i know i’ve been… i know i fucked up. but i’m… i love you, y/n. i really fucking love you. and i didn’t know how much until you weren’t there."

his words hang in the air, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel anger or hurt. you just feel… sad. sad for him, sad for you, sad for all the misunderstandings that led you here.

you reach out, gently brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead. he closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it like he’s starved for your touch. he probably is because so are you.

"i’ve changed," he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion. "i swear loving you has changed me."

you don’t respond right away. instead, you lean forward and press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. his skin is warm beneath your lips, and the simple gesture feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever shared before.

when you pull back, lando looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his emotions raw and exposed. "i love you too," he mumbles, his voice barely audible, like he’s falling asleep or slipping into a dream where things are better, where you’re together again.

you don’t know what’s going to happen next, or if you can really fix what’s broken between you. but for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe… just maybe, you can try.

and maybe this time, it’ll be different.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★:a/n:: thanks for the request love! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :3

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty-four | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | murder, getting away with murder, minor character death, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), riding, fingering (f. receiving), hints of edging, blood kink if you squint, creampie, virgin! Coryo lossing virginity | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 the end

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 the last chapter! I probably won't do an epilogue, i am not entirely sure on it yet! But this wraps up their story!! I hope you guys liked it! Make sure to reblog and give ne your feedback!

beta read by an angel (TRUTH) @nowitsmissing

thank you to everyone who was on this journey with me... I love you guys!

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Coriolanus finds Lucy Gray near the hanging tree. It was nearly evening. Lucy Gray's eyes were red. Coriolanus ignored the pity he felt. Soon, Lucy Gray would join Sejanus Plinth.

“Lucy Gray,” he hissed, taking her attention away from the tree.

“You'll need to leave,” he said, his voice faking desperation, “to the North. Sejanus would have wanted that.”

“What about you?” Lucy Gray asked, “What about the Covey?”

“The Covey will live, Lucy Gray, you know that. They're strong. They're survivors,” he replied, “as for me, I wish to leave with you. I can't stay in the place that took my friend.”

Coriolanus' eyes quickly filled with tears as soon as he finished. “It's all my fault,” his lips utter, “if only I could have stopped him.”

Lucy Gray looks at him, her face stricken with grief. She doesn't say anything but lets the tears fall down her cheeks. She pulls Coriolanus into a hug.

“The Peacekeepers will look for me, I'll stay in the cabin for the night,” Lucy Gray said. There was a cabin, near the lake, over the fence of the district. Nobody ventures that far except the Covey. Coriolanus and Sejanus only found out about its existence due to their connection with Lucy Gray.

He remembered all the moments he spent there with the Covey. It would be a good place for Lucy Gray to perish. Around all the greens and the music of mockingjays inside the forest.

“I'll meet you there tomorrow in the morning with supplies,” he said, holding Lucy Gray's hand, even giving it a friendly squeeze. He was afraid he was overselling the act but Lucy Gray was too sad to notice how over-the-top friendly Coriolanus was acting.

Lucy Gray nods and turns to leave. Her legs were shaky as she walked. Sejanus and Lucy Gray had to keep their relationship a secret for obvious reasons. But everyone would point at her for the mayor’s daughter's death. It didn't end with Sejanus Plinths' death. It won't because the mayor is trying to root out every single rebel, and surely he won't keep alive the girl his daughter hated so much.

Coriolanus finds his way back to the base. It's night by the time he returns. He climbs up the stairs and walks down the hallway to reach your room. He knocks and waits for you to open the door.

You do.

Coryo tried his best not to get distracted at the sight of you. You were looking so pretty. You look beautiful to him all the time. “Hi,” he gasps out.

“Hey,” you smile, giving him space to walk inside the room. Peacekeepers knew by now that something was going on between him and you. They knew better than to gossip about it though. It was clear you had the power to do anything you wanted. And everyone knew not to mess with someone from the Capitol.

That is why Coriolanus knew even if he spent the night here. He won't get in trouble. He pulls off his Peacekeeper uniform and wears one of the big, oversized sweatshirts you bought from the Capitol. The softness of the fabric makes him shy. He felt like a boy again. It was a feeling he never thought he would enjoy. For a moment, he could pretend he was in the Capitol, in his home, before the games had ever happened.

“You look comfy,” you tease him, as you find your home in his arms.

“I am,” he murmurs, his lips kissing your temple.

“I talked to Lucy Gray,” he informs you, “You were right. She's going to the north and she'll stay in the cabin for the night.”

“Hmm,” you hum, as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder, your lips pressing soft kisses to his pulse. Your arms around him, and his arms around you. Both of you caging each other. The heat of both of your bodies mingled into a pleasant warmth.

“Well, then my revolver will come in handy soon,” you whispered, a bit tired.

“They let you bring one here?” He questions.

“Special privileges,” you replied.

Any other day Coriolanus would feel jealousy pulling at his heart, a frown formatting on his face. Today, he just… didn't care. He didn't care that you had more benefits than him. He didn't care that you lived better than him.

You're his.

Could anything be better than that?

He doesn't think so.

“Typical,” he said, his head now on your shoulders.

“Uh huh,” you add, “Stay the night.”

“Of course, dove.”

You lay down on the bed beside him. His arm was thrown over your waist, and your legs tangled with him. You gently let your nails scratch at his buzz cut. He sighs, relaxing from your touch.

“Tomorrow is a big day,” you remind him, “We'll have to finish everything by noon and catch the train in the evening.”

“We?” He questioned.

“I talked with Dr. Gaul,” you revealed, a bit hesitant, “She wants you back.” You frown, “Don't let the news deter from our plan Coriolanus, it's important we leave no strings behind.”

Coriolanus blinks, trying to take in your words. A smile splits on his face. He couldn't believe this, he had thought he would have to wait for months before Dr. Gaul let him get back to the Capitol. Snow thought she would be petty like that. But you somehow managed to convince her otherwise. It was shocking, to say the least.

“I will go to the Capitol with you tomorrow,” he said. He repeats, “I'll go to the Capitol with you tomorrow!”

You giggled, “Yes, Coriolanus. You thought I would leave you behind? It took some… it doesn't matter. We'll have our happily ever after.”

“I can't believe it,” he whispers, his eyes shining with joy, even with the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes sparkling.

“You should,” you whispered, “now sleep, darling. It's a big day tomorrow.”

Coriolanus couldn't believe it. He pressed your lips against yours. “Thank you,” he lets out, “I love you.” Coriolanus takes your hand, and presses a kiss to your wrist, on the number tattooed on your skin. “I love you, my dove,” he whispered.

“I love you too, pretty boy,” you whispered.

Coriolanus pulls impossible closer as if he were trying to mold both of your souls together. “I am glad you're mine,” he said. He kissed your forehead. “You're mine forever,” he whispered, a hint of darkness, and obsession creeping into his voice.

It made you bite your lower lip as you heard the possessiveness in his voice. “I know,” you replied, “You're mine too.” You add, your voice muffled as your face was pressed into his chest, “Nobody can take you away from me ever again.”

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

In the morning, both of you quietly wake up in each other's arms. Coriolanus yawns, “Good morning, dove.” You hum something Coriolanus couldn't hear in reply.

It was so early that the sun had just begun to rise. However, he could hear the sound of rain. Coriolanus quickly gets out of the bed. He softly pats you on the cheek, smiling as you continue to fight the battle against sleep.

“See you soon,” he whispered, taking the revolver you had in your drawer and walking out of the room. He finds himself on his bunk bed, everyone else is sleeping, and he quickly begins to pack things inside of his bags. The supplies he told Lucy Gray about. When he is done, he briefly stops by in front of Sejanus Plinth's bed.

There was a box in which Sejanus Plinth kept his belongings. Coriolanus opens it to find letters, medicine, and two photos. One of Lucy Gray. Another was of Coriolanus and Sejanus, a photo taken from the time during the broadcast of the 10th Games. It seemed like yesterday.

Coriolanus Snow had no explanation for the tears that fell down his cheeks. Sejanus Plinth was dead. Snow had given Dr. Gaul the gun, and you made her pull the trigger. It's in her hands the blood of Sejanus truly was. Not on him nor you.

Coriolanus wipes his tears away. “She's coming soon to you, buddy,” he whispered to the picture. He wondered if Sejanus would thank him for his next actions, or curse him. Coriolanus doesn't think about it much, he leaves.

Soon enough, he reaches the cabin. “Lucy Gray,” he calls out. Lucy Gray opens the door, giving Coriolanus a polite smile. Lucy Gray lets him inside. He enters, looking around the old cabin he has been inside of many times. Coriolanus sets his bag down. Wondering about what he should do next. Should he wait for you? Should he take out the gun and shoot now?

Before he can decide his next actions, Lucy Gray pulls out a knife. “I think I’ll go dig up some Katniss since we got the fire going anyway. There’s a good patch by the lake.”

“I thought they weren’t ready,” he said. Katniss was another word for swamp potato. It grew around here, but just a few days ago Lucy Gray told him it wasn't ready for harvest.

“Two weeks can make a lot of difference,” she said.

“It’s raining,” he objected. “You’ll get soaked.”

She replied, “Well, I’m not made of sugar.”

Coriolanus lets her walk outside. It was a form of mercy, trying to give her some time to run. He knew that Lucy Gray's survival instincts were good. That was the only reason she had survived the arena.

But she won't be able to survive him.

Coriolanus follows her trail after a moment passes. She wasn't down the lake as she promised, but her footsteps were towards the forest. Coriolanus smirks as he takes the revolver out, and gets the gun ready for a shot.

“Let the hunger games begin,” he whispered, “may the odds be in your favor.”

Coriolanus continues to follow her trail quietly and quickly, using the training of being a Peacekeeper. His gun pointed in front of him, ready to be shot the moment he saw her. “Lucy Gray,” he calls out, his voice warm as if he wasn't going to murder, “Where are you? We need to leave soon.”

“Lucy Gray!” He turns when he hears footsteps and shoots, hoping not to miss. The shot met with flesh, the sound booming in his ear, much more overwhelming than the tap tap of the rain. He walks towards the body that is now in front of him. Red blood mixed with the rainwater on the ground, staining the greenery around them.

He shot her right in the chest.

Lucy Gray was dead.

She joined Sejanus Plinth in the afterlife and will spend the rest of eternity cursing Coriolanus. Snow couldn't find himself to clear. He felt relieved. No one can drag him down now. The only way for him was to climb the ladder and reach the peak. Coriolanus uses his feet to turn her dead body around. There was blood dripping down her lips, her dress red and her were nearly closed. She was nothing more than a dead body. Gone was the songbird.

Now it was time to get rid of the body.

He was grateful that the rain would cover the tracks. But he had to be careful as it was easy to slip and get hurt himself. He drags the body without any rush, he thinks of you, waiting in the cabin for him to come back. Both of you will go back to the Capitol. Snow will be together with his family, in the future you'll also become his family. Everything was going to be fine.

This was nothing but a simple stepping stone.

He could feel his arms getting tired but he continued to drag the body by her arms until he reached the edge of the lake. There was a boat. He wondered briefly if he should just take her on the boat and cross to the middle of the river to let her drown. But decided that it would be too much trouble, and pushed her to the river. A big splash occurs. And he could see Lucy Gray slowly but surely falling to her end.

Lucy Gray was gone from this world forever.

He throws the revolver into the river as well. The body would decompose in a matter of days. Everyone would think of her as a traitor. Even if the Covey comes to visit the lake again, they'll never know it's their beloved Lucy Gray's grave.

Coriolanus Snow reaches the cabin and opens the door to see you holding a Peacekeeper’s gun. The same gun he had used to shoot Mayfair and Billy Taupe. “Guess Spruce hid it here,” you grin at him. You were slightly wet from the rain, unlike him, he was soaking wet.

“Yeah,” he lets out, his shoulders relaxed, his face mirroring your smile. “We'll have to throw those in the lake too.”

You chuckled, “Let's not leave any stones unturned.”

Coryo couldn't take it anymore, the adrenaline was too much. “We won't,” he said, as he walked towards you until your back was on the wall. He takes the gun from you and throws it to the side. Neither of you flinch from the loud noise, the two of you too focused on each other instead. He closes the space between the both of you.

“But for now, I want you,” he adds, “No- that's not right. I need you, here.”

He doesn't wait for a reply. He crashed his lips to yours. You find yourself kissing him back. Your tongue exploring his mouth, he sucks at your bottom lip. Not caring that his teeth are digging into your flesh too harshly, that he's responsible for the coppery taste that occurs while you continue kissing.

“You sure?” You gasp as you break the kiss. A string of saliva connecting you both. Coriolanus doesn't reply, he finds his solace from the taste of your skin. He pressed his lips to your neck, sloppily kissing down your pulse. You softly moan, tilting your head to give him more access.

Coryo takes full advantage of that. He was going to claim you any way that he could. Carving his initials on your skin wasn't the only way after all. Cumming inside of you, giving your pretty red hickeys, the print of his fingers on your hips, even the soulmate tattoo you have on your wrist. All these are ways for him to fucking own you.

And own you he shall.

He bites onto your neck as if trying to tear out your flesh. He wants to consume you, soul and all. You cry out, your back arching. Your hips meet his, and he presses his hard bulge against you. He finds himself in between your legs. Your clothed cunt against his denim-cladded cock. You begin to grind against him, as he continues the assault on your neck.

The teeth mark he placed on your skin will remain for days. It will bruise on doubt. Coriolanus didn't have it in him right now to be gentle. He was too fucking drunk on you for that. All of his desires were rushing through, breaking his walls and overwhelming his mind.

“Fuck,” he curses as he realized his lips are red from your blood. His bites had broken your skin and now tiny droplets of blood were forming. He licks them all up and murmurs an apology. He pressed his lips on yours, painting your lips the same shade as his and making you taste yourself. His hips had slowed down the grinding against you.

He steps back and begins to undress. He lets his t-shirt and jeans fall to the ground. He takes his thick cock out of the confines of his boxers. He grips the base of length, trying to control himself as he watches you follow suit.

He pulls you against him again and nods his head towards the floor. You understand his intention and lay down. He bites his lip, sudden nerves overcoming him. He doesn't know what to do despite the raunchy stories he has heard from his fellow Peacekeepers.

Is he supposed to hold your hand or your hips? Should he just push in? Isn't he supposed to prep you first? Or are you wet enough? Fuck… it wasn't the first time he was intimate with you. He hadn't gone all the way but he was familiar with your body. But most of the time he was overwhelmed with his desire to think about what to do or not to do. This time his mind was clear, he was focusing solely on you and he wanted you to experience nothing less of ecstasy from his touch.

“Coryo?” you question, bringing him out of his internal monologue. “Is there anything wrong?”

“I-” he doesn't want to admit, but he knows he has to, “I don't know what to do right now.”

“You can do whatever you like. I'll tell you if you mess up, sweetheart.”

“I know,” he sighs, his eyes on your tits, he licks his lips, “but I am-” He swallows, trying to explain, “I want you. I don't know how to take you. Everything feels like too much or too little.”

You sit up. You gently cradle his cheeks in your hands. “We have all the time in the world, Coryo. What do you wanna do first?”

“I-” He doesn't form a full sentence, instead he kisses you. His hand is on your nape and another trailing down your body as he softly nips at your lips. He dips down his hand in between your legs, he pressed his palm onto your cunt. He lets himself be coated by your arousal. His breath hitches as he feels your heat in such an obscene way.

“Oh,” he whispered as he pressed a single finger inside of your walls. “I missed this.” He remembers the night when he first felt your tight, slick walls like this. He was rough that night, a bit mean too. Coriolanus wasn't going to be the same today. He plans to worship you.

He begins to slowly thrust his index finger inside of you. His head on your shoulder, his lips kissing any inch of skin he could find as he continues to stretch you out with a single finger. Then he adds another one, he was met with resistance, but he pressed his thumb to your clit. That makes you gasp, your cunt squeezing around his fingers when his thumb begins to draw small circles on the bud.

“Relax, dove,” he whispered, giving you goosebumps.

He doesn't begin to move his fingers even when you whine impatiently, your walls twitching around his digits. Once he deems that you're relaxed enough, he begins to slowly push inside of your pussy, as deep as his fingers could reach. He was trying his best to get you ready for his cock.

His fingertips begin to press into your walls, trying to find that one spot that would get you drunk on him as much as he's drunk on you. He knows he found the spot when he feels your walls pulse around his digits like it had a heartbeat of its own. You gasp his name and he smirks. He whispers to your ear, “That's it, huh?”

“Yes!” You moan, “Faster!”

Coriolanus Snow obeys because he can never say no to you. He begins to fuck his fingers inside of you faster, slipping his ring finger inside of you as well. He thrusts his digits fast and hard, he groans as he sees your pussy stretched to accommodate his long digits. He keeps his fingers slightly curved so that with each thrust he would press into your g-spot.

“Fuck, fuck, you're so pretty.”

Coriolanus couldn't be sure if he was saying that to you, or your cunt. He continues to keep up his speed, the sloppy, wet sounds of your pussy louder than of the rain. Coriolanus could hear you moan his name as he feels your pussy get impossibly tighter around his digits before your walls begin to spasm all over, locking his digits in. He doesn't pull them out, instead, he continues to press hard onto your spongy pleasure spot until you whine his name.

Your juices were now all over his fingers. He didn't waste a second to taste them. He looks into your eyes as he licks his digits clean. He runs his tongue between the spaces of his fingers, making sure he doesn't miss a single spot. When he's done, you pull him in for a kiss. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, you find yourself in his lap, his back pressed to the wooden floor.

Your hand pulls at the dog tag he wore. You use the necklace like a leash, pulling at it like he's a dog you're commanding. You wrap your fingers around it, your thumb caressing the metal pendant. “You're mine,” you whispered in wonder, “You taste of me.”

Coriolanus nods, agreeing to whatever you say. He just wants you! That's it. Ruin him. Ruin him for everybody else forever! You have that power. Take it and use it, that's all he wants.

You raise your hips, taking his cock in your hand. You pressed his tip against your clit, you gasped as you slowly began to rub his cockhead against your pearl. His pre-cum coating your bud, and soon all over your cunt. You were teasing him every time you let his cockhead get near your slit, but you don't let him slip inside of you. He lets out a whimper when you do it again.

Coriolanus finds out how easily he could make you. He switches the position within a split second, his hands on your hips as he uses his weight to press you down. You don't fight back. He growls out your name, his eyes flashing in annoyan

“Please-” he whines, “stop teasing.”

“Make me,” you smirk.

Coriolanus finds out how easily he could make you. He switches the position within a split second, his hands on your hips as he uses his weight to press you down. You don't fight back. He growls out your name, his eyes flashing in annoyance as if in retaliation he kisses you roughly.

“Don't-” kiss, “Play-,” kiss, “With-” kiss, “Me.”

“Not when I have waited for you for so long,” he adds.

His fingers pressed into your flesh. He gets a hold of his length and pressed it to your slit. “Can I?” He asked you, he wanted your permission. He needs your ‘yes’ before he takes you as his forever.

“Of course, Coryo.”

He begins to push in his tip, his length slipping inside of you with ease. He gasps as he feels your warmth all over his cock. The feeling is so overwhelming that he has to stop midway to not cum right away. He squeezed the base of his dick before he continued to push inside of you again, slowly inch by inch. He breathes through his mouth, his eyes closed as pleasure fills every corner of his mind. You felt perfect.

“You feel so good,” he whines.

His cock twitched inside of your walls. He bites the inside of his mouth, trying to use pain to distract himself from the mind-blowing pleasure. Meanwhile, you clenched your pussy as if to see how much his cock had stretched you. The two of you gasped from the feeling.

“Fuc- ah!”

Coryo pulls out a few of his inches and begins to thrust in. You moan out, feeling pleasure in your veins and seeing stars in your eyes. Snow's hands were on either side of your head as he balanced himself above you. His dog tag dangles in front of your lips as his hips continue to move. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing his cock even deeper into you. Coriolanus lets out a groan from the feeling.

“I won't be able to last long,” he admits, his cheeks getting red. Despite the overwhelming pleasure, he couldn't help but feel ashamed about how heavy his balls were with cum ready to be released inside of you.

“You will,” you whispered your hand on his nape. You squeeze it. “You will last as long as I fucking want, Coriolanus,” you said to him, pulling him down to meet your lips. The kiss was messy and open-mouthed. Another hand of yours was on his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin. You were marking him in your own way. With long, red scratches.

Coriolanus slows down, ready to please you however you want. You moan into his mouth and he eats the sound up. Coriolanus thrusts his hips faster, unable to truly control himself. How could he when you made him feel this good? He couldn't decide on the pace. He wanted this to last hours. He wanted to cum.

He kept switching between fast and slow until he found himself with his back on the floor. You are on top of him, your hands holding his hands above his head. “Be a good boy,” you said to him before you began to ride him.

You grind yourself against his cock, letting his cockhead kiss your spongy spot with each movement of your hips. Your arousal was coating your thighs and now it was on his skin as well. You were so wet and messy. Coriolanus loved it. You use one hand of yours to play with his balls. Coriolanus could feel his eyes rolling back.

“Don't- I-” he cries out in bliss when you squeeze his balls gently. You hush him with a kiss, your hips moving according to your will. You had set the perfect pace. It wasn't too much for either of you, letting the pleasure be prolonged.

He knew you were close with the way your push was contracting on his shaft. He knew you were close because your eyes were closed and fuck, you were cock drunk on him. He knew you were close because you had slowed down, and now rocking your hips back and forth. The hold you had on his hands had loosened. He breaks free without a fuss and places his hands on your hips.

He begins to push his hips up, fucking his cock into you. You whine, your eyes opening as you see him take control again. His teeth pulled at his lower lip, silencing his groans as he continues to fuck into you in this position. You use one of your hands to rub at your sensitive clit, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

You tense, your pussy tightening around Coriolanus’ cock. Your only warning was the moan of his name as your cunt begins to spasm around his dick. Coriolanus lets out a deep groan, his lower lip bloody from how hard his teeth dug into the flesh. He fucks you throughout your orgasm.

“Get off,” he whines, “I can't cum inside of you.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

Coriolanus doesn't realize he's coming inside of you until he feels like jelly. He had stuffed you full of his thick, hot cum without a warning. But you had already stated you didn't give a fuck. So he supposed it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had you now.

Forever.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Hours later, you and Coriolanus find yourself at the train station. Ready to go back to the Capitol, once and for all. Commander Hoff had personally come to escort you both.

Coriolanus was about to enter the train. You were already inside. But Commander Hoff stops him, “Son.” Coriolanus stills, waiting to hear what Hoff has to say.

“Don't let her go. You don't know what she had to keep you safe.”

Coriolanus looks Commander Hoff in the eyes and nods. “I won't,” he promises, knowing damn well he will keep it with his life. Coriolanus gets inside the train after saying goodbye. He stops before he opens the door to the cabin you were sitting in. He pulls up the sleeve of his shirt to look at his wrist. He grins as he sees the scar reverted to the number most important to you.

It was today's date.

Coriolanus slides the door and walks to his future.

Coriolanus walks to you.

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

If you do take requests at this moment, can I request a Hualian x GN reader where reader feels like the third wheel, and when Hualian look further into reader, they find out that reader is hurting themselves/trying to change in the way they look

That Hualian would baby reader, like take sharp objects out of arm’s reach, or spoon feed reader when it’s time to eat. Giving reader kisses and words of affirmation every time they’re around

Lol, I’m feeling very angsty, but if this request is a little too far, you don’t have to do it (I hope you’re doing great! Make sure to drink enough water!) 🥰

Shape Shifting Heart

HuaLian x gn!reader

Ignore grammar mistakes

Slight OOC

Made up looks about reader for plot

Tyyy Pepsi zero has become my hydration 😔🙏

Also I'm so sorry for disappearing but I've had like the worst few months of my life ever so 😃🙏 bear with me

____________________________________

Being with Xie Lian and San Lang is the best thing that has ever happened to you. There's so much love to go around with three people and everyone is always taking care of each other! So you never listened to people being hateful about it, whether that be other gods or ghosts. You guys are happy and that all that matters right?

What happens when all of you aren't happy, when it's just one person bringing down the mood and the whole relationship? That's how you've been feeling lately. You haven't been much use to Xie Lian and San Lang these days. Often, you've been curled up in bed and staying hidden under the covers. For what reason? They don't know. You won't talk to them, and while Xie Lian and San Lang pride themselves on knowing you inside and out they can't figure out what's wrong.

You can't tell them. It's kind of embarrassing, humiliating even. How do you tell your lovers, "I feel like the third wheel, I feel neglected and left out" to the two kindest people you've ever met. Everything you do seems to make it worse and you're trying your best so you don't understand why it seems to put your relationship more on edge.

You had honestly just wanted to sulk and pout for a few days in bed over something silly. When they stopped visiting the bedroom it became a problem. All you do is lie here so what could possibly have made them want to leave you alone? You aren't even doing anything to warrant them off! Xie Lian and San Lang easily coddle each other all the time so why don't they think to do it with you? They stopped coming to the shared bedroom, even going as far to sleep in another bedroom together, but by themselves without you.

It only made you feel worse, are you so depressed and off putting they don't want to be near you now? Sadness becomes frustration and it fuels you to get out of bed in what has been weeks. You leave the room disheveled and groggy hoping to find one of your lovers to receive some affection, to you it feels like you haven't had in forever.

You find them together in the kitchen, an awfully domestic scene. Xie Lian cooking dinner and San Lang attached by the hip. The way San Lang holds Xie Lian's waist and stays close while Xie Lian bustles around the kitchen. Where you had once been and would usually love to hear the sound of their laughs and love filled giggles all it sounds like is mocking joy of what you once felt. How many nights has it been like this? How many nights have they been content without you?

"Making dinner without me?" You pipe up, leaning against the kitchen counter. Making dinner is a silly thing to be upset about. A part of you feels awful for being so jealous but the other doesn't. It's not like you're jealous of San Lang or jealous of Xie Lian. You don't spite a specific person. You're just jealous of the love they share, of their bond. You're envious of their happiness, you just want to be included too!

"Ah, y/n!", Xie Lian gives a wobbly smile, "Of course not" Xie Lian didn't know how to bring up that they've been trying to give you space. He doesn't know how to say it in a way that would sound reasonable to you. These days you've been a little irritated and you easily take words they say but add a whole new meaning to it. They know it's not your fault, it's one of your episodes maybe.

No one moves. They don't know whether to extend a hand to invite you or not but you seem to take it upon yourself. You walk closer and stick right up to Xie Lian's and San Lang's side. The tension - you can't tell if you're imagining it or not, you've been imagining a lot these days - is thick. "Well I feel a little better so I'll join from now on, what are you making?" You try to make conversation, you try to move closer in hopes that the domestic scene will just continue.

It doesn't. The room is tense and so are your lovers. You hate it. It makes you want to lash out, cry, and scream. Xie Lian and San Lang seem to be walking on eggshells around you and you don't know why. You've never gotten angry with them before, you've never been violent or aggressive with them so why are they acting like you're a ticking bomb?

San Lang attempts to break the tense atmosphere first. Wrapping hesitant hands around your waist and nuzzling into your hair, hair he will not mention is a bit notty. "We missed you" he murmurs into your long, bright locs. "We're glad you feel better" this seems to get the night moving smoothly again. It's pathetic how quickly you melt into San Lang's touch and preen at his words. It finally feels like you're included in the domestic picture they make.

The three of you eat dinner and enjoy it, Xie Lian's cooking has been getting a lot better but that's probably because you and San Lang were in the kitchen to help him. You're filled with a deep satisfaction when Xie Lian gently grabs your hand and all of you go to your shared bedroom together. Xie Lian pulls you into bed and They cuddle up next to you under the covers, placing gentle kisses on your face and shoulders.

You feel suddenly energetic because of the affection you're receiving. Making you giggle and kissing them back with new found passion. You won't lie you guys haven't had sex in a while so. . . You easily climb on San Lang, and straddle his hips. Kissing him eagerly and nipping against his lips. They weren't expecting you to be so eager but who are they to deny you.

Xie Lian gets behind you and slips off your robe, running his hands over your body. Your back, arms, hips, and thighs- your thighs. Xie Lian's hands freeze, and moves his hands as if he's been scalded. The sudden movement catches San Lang's attention and he sits up but he keeps you in his lap. "Gege what's wrong?" San Lang stares at Xie Lian and suddenly all the attention is off you. Somewhere inside you, you feel a little miffed at Xie Lian's reaction.

But you're concerned too so you turn your head to your other lover with concerned eyes, however Xie Lian is the one staring at you with pity. He turns on the light and sits next to San Lang. "His thighs, San Lang. . ." You scrunch your face. Of course that's what Xie Lian reacted so strongly about. While you were rotting in bed you were feeling so down in the dumps. So- so maybe you took it out on yourself and used your sword on your own skin.

It's not that big of a deal, they're already healed and just remain thick scars across your thighs but it matters to your lovers greatly. They've explored your body many times, and they know these are new. "Baobei, what happened?" Xie Lian cups your face with gentle hands but you turn your head the other way. You're irritated the night has stopped over something so trivial. "Nothing important, I was just feeling upset a few weeks ago, it's trivial now. Can't we just- can we not focus on that?"

Your face is scrunched in irritation and you try to roll your hips against San Lang but he removes you from his lap and onto the silk covers. You groan in frustration. The night was going perfectly and now it's all messed up! San Lang's eyes narrow as he gazes over your legs, and you swallow nervously. "This isn't something we can just ignore Y/n. You know that. . . Let's stop here for tonight" If it were San Lang saying it you wouldn't have minded as much but it's Xie Lian.

Xie Lian loves San Lang's body even with the scars on it so why won't he love yours?! "We don't have to stop! Just- ignore it, would you please?! I can get rid of them, I can look like whatever you want me to be! " You never notice when you start heaving for breath, when tears line your eyes and you try to cling to one of your lovers. You don't notice when you subconsciously change your body into something else because it's something you've always had the power to do.

So when your skin becomes smooth again, and unmarked it's something you don't even look over. But for Xie Lian and San Lang it's completely different. It's like looking at a stranger's body. Like looking at somebody who's never worked a day in their life, someone who has never gone to battle, something you are not but you're desperately trying to be. You have no scars, and the callouses on your hands have disappeared. They've memorized everything on you and now you've made yourself look completely different.

To you, it feels like they look at you with disgust and anger. You're breaking down and it's not something you're even registering. "Y/n stop!" San Lang gives up on keeping you on the bed and he lets you crawl into his lap, he cups your face with surprisingly gentle hands that contradict his angry voice. "Breathe Baobei" he rubs comforting circles into your hips and Xie Lian rubs your back. They're trying to get you to breathe and to stop hyperventilating.

San Lang never looks away from you, and he plants tiny kisses in your cheeks to get rid of your tears. When did you start crying? You don't remember. You eventually calm down from listening to your lovers instructions and their loving touches. When you're finally breathing normally again and the tension leaves your body they try talking to you again. Xie Lian rubs his fingers through your hair, he doesn't like how you've easily changed yourself. He misses your bright locs not the dark ones you've decided to take on. He kisses your head. "I want to talk to my Y/n now. Can I?" Xie Lian asks sweetly.

You've always been you but he wants to talk to his lover not the made up version of yourself. You sniffle and San Lang pats your waist. You take the encouragement and change back to your original body. When you make a weird noise in your throat that sounds close to a sob Xie Lian wraps around you and kisses your nape. "That's good Baobei, we're proud of you." San Lang and Xie Lian glance at each other and in that moment decide to drop the topic about your new found scars. They can only try to find the root of the issue now.

San Lang kisses your forehead and then below your eyes and then your lips. "Tell us what's wrong?" San Lang poses it as a question. As in, you don't have to but it would greatly help them if you did. You feel pathetic and selfish. You don't know why you broke down over something so silly and foolish. "I-I felt, I felt like a t-third wheel. You guys seem so happy without me and all I do is mess up, I'm sorry " you start to cry again and you rub at your eyes harshly but San Lang holds your wrists gently and keeps them away from your eyes.

Xie Lian kisses your shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry for baobei. No one's at fault." He runs his hands over your thighs, making circles with his fingers. "We didn't mean to make you feel left out, we just wanted to give you space. We thought that's what you needed" Xie Lian explains softly. You nod and sniffle. That's more reasonable than whatever your mind came up with. San Lang pulls you closer by the waist. "If we make you feel like that tell us Baobei, we'll fix it immediately" he says with narrowed eyes. You know he isn't upset with you and he's probably beating himself up for not being able to tell. You kiss him deeply and sigh against his lips.

"M'sorry, I know you love me I just- my mind tells me awful things." You whisper in San Lang's lips and kiss him again. San Lang grunts and playfully tugs a piece of your hair. "Should I beat it up for you?" It makes you giggle.

🦊🪷

For the next few days and even few weeks they baby you endlessly. Xie Lian keeps an eye on sharp objects and makes sure you can't get into the weapons room. He also confiscated your sword and he won't even let you hold knives in the kitchen. The only sword you're allowed to be around is E'ming and they know you wouldn't do that to him or San Lang.

They have no problem with dragging you everywhere they go and often San Lang likes to feed you during meals. At first you blushed and insisted you could do it yourself but San Lang waved your concerns away and said "Let me take care of you". They coddle you a lot and one of them is always in the room with you. You know now that you need to work on your communication and not let your mind get to you. It was a big misunderstanding but San Lang and Xie Lian treat it as if it was a genuine problem.

You're suffocated with love but you wouldn't change it for the world.

[pandas-pandemonium]

Caught up with Blue Lock, and re-reading @yestrday 's musings about the yandere Blue Lock boys has inspired this lil scenario with Yandere!Nagi

The Opportunist

Content: Yandere! Nagi x GN!Reader, subtle manipulation (towards Reader), implied sexual harassment (not involving Nagi), implied yandere harem; all characters have been aged up to 18 and above

How long have you been like this? An hour? Maybe even two? You lost track a while ago since Nagi snatched your phone away and completely encased your smaller body within his much larger physique. It was suffocating, and the man hadn't moved for the past hour or so since you agreed to be his cuddle buddy as part of a deal you struck with him.

You give him an hour of your undiverted time and attention and he won't alert the rest to your location. You were desperate when you agreed, having been worn down by the mass onslaught of hungry, egotistical men who demanded every bit of your attention and physical being. There was not a single day that you weren't being hounded or dragged around by someone.

Bachira clung onto you like glue, Isagi would constantly invade your personal space, one time even showing up unannounced at your house. Even more self-centred types like Kaiser would pop up randomly at the most inappropriate times. You still couldn't believe Ness broke the lock on the bath stall just for Kaiser to force his way in. Those ten minutes in the shower were absolute hell. He didn't try anything but with how his hands "accidentally" brushed against your body, he might as well have.

And so, you were now in this predicament. On the one day, a once in a blue moon moment when no one seemed to be hovering around you, your peace was snatched away when you escaped into what you thought was an empty classroom only to fall in the trap of Nagi Seishiro.

Nagi's grip was tight. And you had no idea how he found it comfortable to be squished against the classroom table. Then again, he was using you as a pillow so maybe that was helping him. Not you, however. The blunt edge of the table was beginning to dig into your ribs and your arms were going numb.

"Nagi..." you whispered out, your hands digging into his arms, trying to pry them off you but he only tightened his hold.

"Don't go..." You craned your neck to check on him. He was just speaking in his sleep. Damn it, how strong was this guy? All he did was play football and game, so how were his arms so freaking strong?

"Nagi!" you squirmed again, trying your hardest to push yourself off of him. As you did, you felt him stir.

"Hm? Has it been an hour already?" he asked, his voice still husky from sleep.

"More than that, you dumbass! Let me go! I held up the end of my deal, so leave already!" you yelled out as you managed to pull his arms off you. The moment you felt yourself launch forward from the force needed to push yourself off him, you felt yourself crashing back down as he pulled you into his chest once more.

"You stayed," he whispered, his voice soft against your ear. You blinked.

"Huh?"

"Even though you claim to hate me, you stayed." You were starting to feel uneasy, as his arms began to creep around you again, bringing you back into that stronghold you were in earlier.

"I- I had no choice! Your grip is too damn strong!" you tried to refute, once again trying to pry his arms off you to no avail.

"That's a relief. It's such a hassle trying to get you to stay with me when all those bastards keep swarming you like pests..." You felt his nose nuzzle into your neck as he pressed his lips against your shoulder. "Reo keeps suggesting we keep you on a leash, but isn't that a pain in itself? I mean, I'd rather have you like this."

What was he going on about?

"Nagi!" you tried once more to get off him, but he only continued to press his face deeper into your skin.

"Seishiro."

You froze, and turned your head to face him. His grey eyes were staring deep into your soul.

"Call me Seishiro. Isn't that what romantic partners do?"

"Wha- we're not-"

"We should be. That way less people will try to take you from me. Why do they bother anyway? Chasing you down hallways, barging into your house... are they stupid? Those idiots keep putting so much effort to have you when it's so much easier when you fall straight into my arms like this with little to no trouble at all."

You began to feel his hands move upwards towards your face as he turned you to face him. Now that you were, he grabbed hold of your face and pressed his own forehead against yours, his eyes tinged with a hint of mania.

"You agree, right? Aren't you sick of those bastards coming after you every day? It's why you're here with me, isn't it?"

You couldn't deny that. It was true, you were sick of it. And his words made sense to you. After all, out of the rest, Nagi was one of the aces of the academy and relatively low maintenance.

Slowly, you reached up to grasp his hand in yours, and as you did, he smiled.

"Then that's settled. You better not run from me anymore, okay?"

And as you nodded, you ignored the unsettling pit in your stomach that told you were making a mistake.

[grandlinedreams]

Hey, um I love your works, especially the angsty-themed 😭. Anyway, here's the prompt :

We know that Law is a very private person, and he just doesn't want people to see any type of affection between him and the reader. So imagine like things get hectic, or like he's too focused on his long-term planning. He becomes cold and indifferent, and the reader is not an exception even if the reader is simply willing to help. Yes, he's a private person, but everyone already knows that the reader is his partner. His crew, or maybe the og member that is older than him, are getting uncomfortable and reminding (or rather scolding) him for his behaviour to the reader. Maybe the reader overheard their argument and gets sad because the reader has tried not to take his reaction personally, but it's not a good sign when others have enough. This ends with Law's realization that his crews support their relationship and wish the best for them, showing affection in front of them won't get him teased or even annoy his crew.

Thank you, Love 🫶

Hiya papaya!! Sorry that it's taken me so long to get to this, but I hope I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: Law being a tiiny bit of a red flag, unhealthy coping mechanisms, hefty touch of angst, established relationship, hurt/comfort]

"Is that for captain?"

Looking up from where you're setting things on the tray to carry, you find Penguin watching you and you nod.

"How is he? We haven't seen much of him lately."

You hesitate. Penguin knows Law even better than you do, as do Shachi and Bepo ㅡ they're from a chapter of his life you've only ever gotten brief comments about.

"You know how he gets when he's figuring out a plan," you sigh, and Penguin nods. "I'm going to take this to him."

"You're the best at cheering him up," your crewmate calls after you as you walk away, and your fingers curl around the tray.

You wish that was true, that you had an innate knack for easing Law's burdens the way the others seem to think you do. And maybe you did, at one time ㅡ but not lately.

You can't even tell anyone that it's been days since Law even talked to you. It's been a cycle of going to bed without him, waking up alone, and swapping out plates of barely touched food and drink for new.

You know that this is what happens when he gets focused on something, have seen it before ㅡ but it hurt a little less when you weren't his partner. You know you can't expect him to immediately tell you everything, but telling you nothing isn't fair, either.

You knock, then nudge the door open with your hip. Law hasn't moved from where he'd been when you woke up, nor does he look up when you approach.

"I made grilled salmon this time," you say quietly, glancing at the carefully shaped onigiri. "And tea."

Steam curls off the top, but Law doesn't so much as glance your way. This too has not been unusual, but again, it digs the blade further into your chest.

Have you done something wrong? Surely there's more to it than just being busy for him to shut you out so completely.

You turn to leave, stilling when there's finally, finally a murmur of your name from your boyfriend. Your heart leaps, and you turn, small smile on your lips. "Yes?"

He still isn't looking at you. "Stay in the crew bunkhouse tonight. I can't afford to be distracted right now."

Maybe it'd be better if he yelled at you. If he'd be angry with you, be something with you ㅡ because the flat tone and way he still won't actually look at you hurts far worse than anything else.

"Oh," you say softly, "...of course."

You shut the door behind you, back pressed against it as you take a few steadying breaths, willing yourself not to cry. You won't, not when it will get you scolded if he finds out ㅡ so you close your eyes and count to ten, then pull away from the door.

You can do this for him, give him his space, support him from the edges of that barrier he's made around himself.

You can, and you will.

ㅡ

"Not that we aren't happy to have you here [Name], but..." Clione squints at you. "What are you doing here?"

You look up from where you're pulling back the blankets of your bed ㅡ a bed you haven't slept in for months, as your mind is so gleefully cruel in reminding you. "What do you mean?"

"He means that you're usually with captain," Ikkaku says, watching you with a look of gentle concern.

You're not sure how to answer that and you fumble, fighting hard against the flush of your cheeks. "How do youㅡ"

"You're not as subtle as you think," Hakugan chimes in. "I know captain won't say it, but we've all pretty much figured it out already. Not much you can hide on the 'Tang."

He has a point. Ikkaku is still watching you, her head tilting.

"So...is everything okay?"

You blink, fingers curling against your blanket. "Everything is fine," you say, even though it's far from it. Though they may know about your relationship, you highly doubt that Law would be pleased if they knew about any issues. "I just felt like sleeping in here, that's all."

It's clear none of them believe you, sharing a brief look as you slip underneath your blanket and roll onto your side. It's strange now, going from the comfort of a bed shared with someone to alone ㅡ but if Law needs you to do this, you can do this.

You don't sleep well, not at all ㅡ and when you've finally had enough of tossing and turning, you slip out of bed as quietly as you can, mindful not to disturb your crewmates.

Machinery hums beneath your feet as you pad down the narrow hallway, turning the corner ㅡ and nearly bumping into a firm chest.

You stumble back, balance corrected by the hand that reaches out to grip your shoulder ㅡ familiar warmth, tanned fingers stamped by familiar tattoos.

Law.

It's the first time he's touched you in the better part of a week and a half, and you almost hate yourself for how badly you want to beg for more. He doesn't even have to kiss you ㅡ just a hug would do.

You miss him.

Law's lips part like he's going to say something, but the creak of a door opening makes him tense ㅡ and reality washes over you like an icy bucket of water.

So you do what you have to ㅡ you dhrug his hand off of your shoulder, curve your lips into a smile you don't feel, and take a step back.

"Good morning, captain," you tell him, ignore how it rips your chest open to be so formal with him and slip around him to begin your own day.

ㅡ

"Did something happen between you and [Name]?"

The question makes Law tense from where he's putting away medical supplies from the latest supply run, glancing at Shachi who'd volunteered to help him. That, he supposes, should have been his first clue. Not that Shachi isn't helpful ㅡ but that he has an agenda of his own.

Law looks away. "I don't know what you mean."

Shachi huffs. "Don't play dumb, captain." He knows he's treading the line of insubordination, but there's only so much he and the others can take of this. "We know you're together."

Law stills.

"[Name] didn't tell us anything," Shachi continues. "We figured it out. So don't be mad at them."

Law is quiet, trying to process the other man's words before he says slowly, "How long have you and the others known?"

Shachi shrugs. "Couple of months." His tone softens, though it still carries an edge of scolding. "You can't just shut everyone out like that, captain. Especially not if you're in a relationship with someone."

Law wants to argue, say that he didn't ㅡ but he did. Pushed you as far as he could, made you keep your distance. He'd backtracked on months of progress, of affection and trust ㅡ and called you distracting.

Ans you'd taken it all in stride. You hadn't gotten angry, hadn't fought with him ㅡ simply nodded, smiled, and let him treat you as he pleased.

You'd let him hurt you, something he'd promised he'd never do ㅡ

"Finish putting this away for me," he tells Shachi, who watches as Law leaves the storage room without looking back, and he grins.

"About time."

ㅡ

You stir to the feeling of being carried. That's funny, you don't even remember falling asleep ㅡ but you must've, curled up on the couch with a book.

You squirm, and the arms around you tighten as your eyelids flutter. "Waking up?"

Your eyes snap open. "Law," you say, staring up at your boyfriend ㅡ or at least, who you hope is still your boyfriend. "What are you doing?"

"You fell asleep on the couch," he says, "and I'm taking you to bed before you end up with a crick in your neck from sleeping like that."

"Oh." You study the curve of black ink on his chest. "To the bunkhouse?"

"No, to myㅡ" He stops, corrects himself. "Our room."

That gives you a glimmer of hope, allows for you to snuggle further against him, which relieves him in turn. You aren't angry with him ㅡ both a blessing and a little bit of a curse, brcause you have every right to be.

As if sensing his thoughts, you sigh softly. "I'm not mad at you."

"You should be." He nudges his door open, shuts it behind him before continuing towards the bed. The bed that's been far too cold over the last couple of days without your presence.

You cling to him, even after he sets you down, coaxing him to lay next to you. "I'm not," you insist again. "Just wish you'd trust me a little more. I want to help, Law."

Your fingers brush his cheek, and he reaches to grasp them, presses soft kisses to your fingertips. "I know. I need to work on that. I shouldn't have shut you out like that, it wasn't fair to you."

You press closer. "We can work on it together," you say, lips against his collarbone, sweet kisses that make him shiver. "Right?"

"Right," he agrees softly, pulls you to him as close as he can, wraps himself around you. "Together."

[sweetestofchaos]

Chell 💜 I hope I’m not too late 👀 could I get Jungkook x reader with #13. linking hands together during sex from prompt list 2

I miss him so much 😭

Like I would ever say no to you 😆 but, you aren't late at all. I don't know when I'll call these drabble requests off...I know they won't stay open too long 'cause no one has really sent anything in. You are the fourth (probably the last) person to request something.

You know I love me some JK...so let's go!

being close to you is still not close enough

p. jungkook x reader

r. 18+

wc. 481

w. mentions of unprotected sex, biting, creampie, kissing

Your skin on his, your breath mixed with his, it is hard to tell where one body begins and the other ends. Still, Jungkook wants more. Needs more. It isn’t enough to be buried deep in your soft warmth. It isn’t enough to sink his teeth into your skin. It isn’t enough to fill you with his seed. He loves you and you love him. You tell him so every day at all times, no matter what. Even when the two of you are fighting (not often), you fill each other with love.

As your legs lock Jungkook in place, as he grinds his pelvis against yours and as he pants in your ear, he grunts his love. His hands roam your body, trailing a hot path along your skin with goosebumps and kisses. He loves you, day in and day out. Seven days a week until the end of time, he loves you and only you. Your nails mark his skin, leaving red lines along his back and crescent moons on his arms. He doesn’t care, he’s okay with his hyungs teasing him if it means he can wear your marks proudly.

His skin is damp, slick with sweat, just as yours. You reach for the blankets, twisting the fabric in your hands until your knuckles lock, the skin taut over the bones. Jungkook’s hands find yours, he relaxes your grip and slides his fingers between the empty space. Puzzle pieces fitting into place, two halves of one whole. As his fingers close around your hand, your head grows warm and fuzzy. You feel like you’re floating and the weight of Jungkook’s hands in yours weighs you down, anchoring you to the world.

He moans your name, whispers his love as he clings to you, never letting go. Tight, so very tightly you hold onto his hands. You think there will be marks that might bruise but that is for future you to worry about. Jungkook now has no worries, he doesn’t mind the tightness. It’s reassuring, the way you give yourself to him, trusting him with the most inner parts of you. The love is madding and at times Jungkook wonders how he is still here with you. The love you share is unconditional, fierce, and inviting. It wraps around his very being and floods his lungs at the most random of times.

Jungkook’s hips start to weaken and you mewl, squeezing his hands and his length as he pushes you over the edge. It triggers his own release a few moments later and tears stream down your face. It is overwhelming, the feeling of this love. It settles deep in your chest and as Jungkook kisses your face all over, licking away your tears, you can’t help but whisper those words to him once more.

“I love you, Jungkook. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

[half-dead-ham]

Tim Drake's I.E.F Ch.1

To all those new to this fic, Hi! Welcome! I'm sure you'll have fun with this since I'll be posting/updating the old update posts all at once. It's a lot, but if I don't do this now I probably won't later, so bare with me, will you?

[Ao3 chapter] [Masterpost] [Chapter 2]

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

Getting shot isn't the best way to start a friendship, but at least nobody died, right?

Gotham is dark.

 And big.

 And haunted.

 It would seem like the worst place for Danny to hide, considering just how many vengeful and sad ghosts there are. And yet, here he is, on his third month here after escaping leaving Amity Park after an unexpected and, frankly, embarrassing reveal of his secret to his parents.

 Needless to say, they did not take it well.

 Silently cringing at the images of the inside of ecto-proof cages and Fenton blasters running through his head, he floats on his front invisibly about his current interest in lazy circles as they perch on the edge of a rooftop. Red Robin, the first bat he encountered during his stay, and second favourite Gotham vigilante, (his first being Red Hood) was currently working on a case that revolved around a string of break-ins to large electronic stores around Gotham's commercial district. The contents of what was stolen didn't seem to have any pattern, but none of the security systems at previous stores were able to even glimpse at the thief.

 Red Robin, hearing rumors through his contacts of the electronic store across the street from them being the next target, had decided to stake out the place in hopes of a clue. The security feed was currently being patched through onto Red Robin's wrist computer as the bird watched silently for any signs of movement. A slight distortion caught Danny's eye and he lowered himself over Red Robin's shoulder to get a better look. Red Robin shivered at the sudden chill, but didn't look around like the first dozen times Danny had hovered into his personal space.

 It was weird, the lack of reaction. At the beginning, about a month beforehand was when Danny had first taken interest in the vigilante. He was bored of staying in the decrepit old building he'd started squatting in after the first few nights of paranoia fueled isolation. Figuring the best way to settle his nerves was a midnight patrol, he took off flying in a lazy pattern, first around his new house(not his home, not without them) and then around the rest of the district.

 He was just about to head back when he came upon police lights outside a small computer repair shop and curiosity, reluctantly, got the better of him. Danny, invisibly and intangibly as to not be detected, floated cautiously through the roof of the shop to see what had happened. He was not expecting to see Red Robin surrounded by four officers all huddled together watching—glaring—at the monitor displaying the shop's security footage.

 Seeing that A. There wasn't anything really bad about the place, like a body or any particularly fresh ghosts, and B. That his second favourite Gotham hero was on the scene had instantly made Danny much less cautious and much more curious. He waited for the officers to focus their attention elsewhere in the store and floated closer to have a look at what the hero, who was currently rewinding the tape, was so baffled about. Red Robin had just hit play when Danny came close enough for his shoulder to accidentally brush the side of Red Robin's head in a momentary lapse of his intangibly, sending the vigilante bounding to his feet in a defensive position, searching for anything close.

 Danny, in the split second between his accidental tangibility and Red Robin's reaction, had instinctively moved back and reasserted his powers for good measure. The video played behind Red Robin as he tensely searched the dingy narrow shop for anything that could have caused the cold chill and light brush to the back of his head, but even with the high tech sensors in his lenses he couldn't pick up anything that close to him, just him and the now three other officers in the building. His body slowly uncoiled, the fight bleeding out of him as he watched the officers inspect a particularly interesting piece of wiring near the entrance. 'Like a snake' Danny mused, before silently berating himself for almost getting caught by a bat. 

 Man, that would've been embarrassing.

 Danny was lucky he hadn't thought to switch to thermal viewing, or he would have noticed the massive cold spot just above him to his left.

 After that night Danny kept going for patrols around his squat house, and subsequently kept running into Red Robin in his case to find the ghost(ha) thieves. After the seventh time he figured it would be more interesting to just start out searching for the vigilante instead of running into him after the police lights directed him to a crime scene.

 An alarm from the store across the street had Danny refocusing on Red Robin's wrist computer. There hadn't been movement on the cam footage, but as Red Robin rose from his crouch Danny noticed one of the camera views where an empty display that had previously held a line of 60 inch flat screens not five minutes before. Rising and hopping off the cornice Red Robin toggled the button on his comm with an exasperated groan.

 "Oracle, it's RR," he paused and a woman's voice could vaguely be heard, "So you couldn't see anything either?" He groaned again, louder as he took a few more steps away from the roof ledge. "What kind of tech could hide someone from all the cameras in there?" Another pause, this time from both ends.

 "You think it's a meta?" Red murmured, almost to himself. "That could be why we didn't even see the goods getting moved," Oracle was saying something he couldn't make out, then "I'll try, but I don't know how much I'll find even if I can see them." Danny tuned out their conversation after that as another sound caught Danny's attention at the back side of the building. Red Robin was too focused on his conversation to notice or hear, but to Danny the hushed tones were both loud and suspicious.

 As he got closer to the edge, the tones became voices, all three deep and rough. He peered over the rear cornice to the alley below, and spotted three men dressed in all black loading the freshly stolen TV screens into the back of a nondescript white van. Two of the men were making their way to the front doors of the vehicle and were wearing large gaudy white belts and were shouting at the third arranging the monitors in the back. The half-ghost only had time to think 'well they don't look suspicious at all' before the first one got to the driver's side door and yanked it open. Belatedly realizing that they were probably the thieves the pacing hero behind him was looking for, Danny made a split second decision and dove for Red Robin's utility belt.

 Among the few gadgets Danny had seen Red Robin use, the tracking bug was stored in an easily accessible front pocket at the birds front. Rather than trying to be stealthy for the sake of him not being found out, Danny quickly made a downward sweeping motion with his hand to grab the tracking device intangibly out of the pouch. Only half noticing the full body chill he gave Red Robin on the process, he dashed back to the van of whose driver had just keyed the ignition and stuck the tracker to it's undercarriage in time for it to peel out of the alley back doors only just closing on the turn with a lot 'slam!' and into the dead side street away from the electronic store.

 As he watched the van go, he hoped that tracker had an automatic 'on' function or he would be down one piece of mysteriously missing bat-tech and up one very suspicious bat.

 Flying worriedly back up to where he had left said bat, he was greeted with his slightly panicked conversation with the person(s?) on the other end of his comm. "-I am not hallucinating! I just felt something go through me and nothing's here! I'm- no I'm not coming down with something Dick! "

 Something in the way he said that made Danny pretty sure he wasn't meant to hear that. Vigilantes and their secret identities, right? (was his name really Dick? Or was that just an insult? It felt like a name when he said it…)

 "I swear something has been stalking me for the last month and none of you will believe me!"

 The half-ghost flinched, realizing that yeah, he maybe hadn't been as sneaky as he'd thought in hanging (haunting?) around the vigilante, but after the first few reactions to his ghostly presence he'd thought Red Robin had choked him up to being some regular Gotham chill or something, only shivering before going back to what he'd been doing previously. Before anyone, present or otherwise, could say anything else, Red Robin's wrist computer beeped and pulled up a map showing the location of the -thankfully operational- moving tracker.

 A small "What?" was the only thing to accompany the deep frown as Red Robin lifted his gloved arm showing the tracker, before reaching into the pouch that previously held said tracker and pulling out empty air. Somehow deepening his frown, the bird looked around the empty rooftop, scanning for seemingly anything, before moving his hand back to his comm to speak.

 "Guys, I think I got a lead," he stated wearily. He was met with a few seconds of dead air before a flurry of voices spoke one after another in a cacophony Danny could barely even start to decipher before Red Robin spoke over them.

 "Something took my tracker. I don't know what has it but it's heading to the docks, I'm going to see where it's headed and maybe find some clues about either who took it, or. that tech."

 A distinctly male voice replied this time, and Danny could vaguely make out something about the tracker leading to a trap. Danny really didn't think about what he'd do after setting the tracking device, just that his core urged him to help. Internally groaning at his lack of planning yet again, he was surprised to hear Red Robin's reply.

 "I don't think it's a trap. If what I think happened, then that thing that's stalking me might just have given me the lead I need to bust this case open. And yes I know you guys still don't believe me about the thing, but I've seen and felt too many things over the past month not to think something's keeping tabs on me." He started to make hand gestures around halfway through his rant, ending off with a grumble at the notion of invisible teens' currently unknown presence. He heard one more voice speaking up in a cautious tone before the vigilante raised his hand again to the comm. With a reassuring sounding "will do" he switched off his comms and headed to the fire escape off the side of the building and to his bike parked a few streets over.

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

   The docks, Danny thought, were both more haunted and quieter than Amity's, and that somehow made them even creepier.

 While keeping up with Red Robin's ninja-like movements through the maze of Gotham's harbour he had spotted no less than fifteen ghosts of various power levels and forms, ranging from the usual blobs to some very concerning looking business men in drenched suits.

 Coming up on the location of the tracker Danny placed on the thieves van, they came to a warehouse that was a lot less dead than the ones beside it. Creeping up to an adjacent roof Danny could spot three guards, likely armed if their postures were anything to go by. Red Robin surveyed the perimeter before finding an open window on the second floor. He studied the opening for a few minutes to confirm whether or not there was anyone in the room, then pulled out his grapple and shot it at the overhang of the building just above it, sailing through the small hole with practiced grace.

 'Most of the batclan could probably take flight really easily… A bat that could actually fly, now that would be terrifying.' The intrusive thought couldn't escape Danny as he floated through the wall behind the bird, watching as he took a roll and came up in -from what the half-ghost could tell- a perfect defensive crouch. Red Robin checked the room for any cameras before creeping over to the doorway, the door itself having most likely been lost to vagrants a long time ago. With no one in the corridor -though with the other doorways having actual doors it was hard to tell- the vigilante stalked towards the open end, presumably where the office portion ends and the warehouse properly 'begins'.

 Red Robin stopped just short of where the office hallway met a grated catwalk that overlooked about two thirds of the warehouse below. Though it must not have been originally, the office space was held aloft by solid yet bare I-beams that jutted from the concrete below. Remnants of walls in the form of gypsum dust and water stains were all that proved the existence of a previously blocked off section to a now open space. The open space, of course, held pallets and pallets of stolen electrical equipment; TV's, computers, stereo systems, just to name a few that Danny could see. Along the wall to his right he could see the van he'd tagged with Red Robins tracer, along with two other vehicles of similar make to the one they followed. The first van currently had its rear doors wide open as four men in all black unloaded the monitors into a waiting palette for… storage? It was hard for Danny to say, but by the way the vigilante slightly below him gasped -silently, he noted absently- they had found the mother-load.

 There were more guys than just the ones unloading the van, obviously. They seemed to keep in groups, but in total there were maybe thirty of them, the ghost boy guessed. All of them had some small firearm on them, about half some visible melee weapon, and all had the same Bad Guy™ wardrobe of black long sleeves and pants.

 A good few had those garish white belts on, Danny had noticed due to the fact they stick out like the belt on his HAZMAT, though for different reasons. The goons that wore them didn't unload the goods with the ones who didn't have them, suggesting they had a different job in this operation.

 Red Robin was taking all this in just as much as he was, watching the men at work as they catalogued the new additions to a collection that clearly went further than just the department store robberies. 'Maybe they break into houses too?' Danny had to assume that because how else would you get a literal mound of cellphones and tablets without some good ol' B&E?

 You can't, that's how.

 Both Danny and Red Robin were too captivated by the floor below they weren't paying attention to the floor they were on. Specifically, they didn't notice the goon slip out from one of the offices they had neglected to check beforehand. He didn't see them—really just Red Robin, Danny was still invisible—immediately, but as the bird didn't turn around immediately the thug took the chance to take out his weapon—a short lead pipe in this case—and slunk towards the bird and ghost duo as silently his black converse could.

 Danny heard a scuff a second before the guy behind them took a swing—straight at the back of Red Robin's head. Thank the ancients so did he, swivelling on the ball of his left foot and kicking out with his right, sweeping the thugs legs and sending him face first into the catwalk grate with his momentum. As he landed though, he let go of his pipe.

 Which fell to the floor below.

 Which in turn alerted everyone to what was happening just above their heads.

 Danny metaphorically held his breath (not literally, he didn't need to breathe as a ghost) as, as one, the entire warehouse snapped to look in the direction of the loud clang! and eventually the bird in the rafters. Many rushed to unholster their firearms before shooting at the vigilante.

 Red Robin cursed and sprinted back the way he came, into the vacant room and back out the window to the opposing roof with his grapple. Behind them shouting and more gunshots could be heard, leaving Danny's ears ringing as the mob of thugs spilled out of the warehouse in pursuit of the rooftop runner.

 Danny had to resist the urge to put up a shield to aid the bird in his escape, his core screaming at him protect protect protect! As bullets whizzed by them in the leaps Red Robin took between corrugated rooftops. He deflected as many as he could without being obvious, but due to that a few found their marks, the first one in Red Robin's upper right arm, another grazing his left cheek to the bridge of his nose, and the final one getting through his body armour and through his lower left side, exiting through his chest.

 The last bullet made Red Robin yelp in pain, losing focus of his landing position and slipping on a slick spot on the next roof. His legs went out from under him and though he tried to find something, anything to hold onto, the strain had his right arm weakening, and with a look of terror, he fell.

 Protect protect protect protect protect pr̵̟̬̬͕̼̜̪̞̊̓͗̊͌͆͠͝ͅo̷̦̟̥̠͉̘͕͛̎͛͝ͅṱ̷̼͔̘̩̆ě̴̗̱͍̤̣̻̯̹̇̍̄c̶̡̤͔̫̠̲̍͋́͐̀͂̕͝t̵͚̟͓̔͐̏͊̈́̕ ̶̘͈͙̻̦̫̱͑̂p̴̧̩͚̝̲͓̜̰͑̅́̉̈́͛͝r̵̨̛̘̕ǒ̷̧̰̟͖͓̳̘̮̓̊̈́͗̉t̵̢͙̝̰͍̗̪̀͛ͅḛ̵͖͎̭̹̾́̀͋͘ç̵̭̭̫̥̭͎͚̯͌̌̀̾ṯ̵̤̪̟̙̹̂̓́̊͛̐̓͘̕͜ ̵͙͈̟͆̀̍̆p̸̡̛̙͎̖̭̐̆̈́̇̏ṙ̸̘̗̪͖̂̽̉́̕o̶̝̬̔̅̈́͑̃t̷̨̧̛̖̘̩̩͇̺̀̔͋̈́́̄̈́͝ȅ̴̞̗͗̂͂͂̉̚c̶̛̥̹̃̃̓̐̽ṯ̶͎̈́͂̈͐̎́͒͝!̶̥̇̄̈̓̈́͗̀͝͠

 Before he knew what he was doing, Danny dove for Red Robin, catching him by the wrist not five feet from the very hard, very solid, concrete pavement below them. He lowered the vigilante down gently, his legs not supporting him due to shock of not going splat. (or possibly due to trauma and blood loss.) Danny only let go when Red Robin was firmly sitting on the ground, back to the adjacent wall and unharmed -other injuries notwithstanding- and turned to the rapidly approaching thunder of footsteps as the goons came running at them.

 Dropping his invisibility, Danny put a shield around the prone teen behind him. Better not to have him get worse due to some stray bullets while he was being protected.

 Why wasn't he taking the injured vigilante and getting the hell outta dodge to somewhere safe? Well that's because he was angry. He was angry they hurt something that was his. They would pay for hurting something he was protecting.

 And so, as the mob of goons came at the two teens, Danny, for lack of a better term, unfolded.

 A multitude of eyes and teeth and claws came gnashing and snarling outwards in a cloud of frozen shadow at the gang, causing many to panic and either shoot or flee. Some of the ones shooting shot the ones trying to get away, and the buildup of panic and screams and fear had Danny cackling in static echos as he gouged and disarmed and covered the mob in his nebulous mass. He never injured enough to kill, but enough to make sure that if they weren't carried away that they'd need a while to recover.

 As the stars that were his teeth and nails stopped flashing in blows delivered Danny adjusted himself back to his usual state, teeth only slightly sharp and claws firmly under the white of his HAZMAT gloves. Satisfied at seeing no man left behind was a code the thugs stood by, Danny turned back to the glowing dome that housed his vigilante.

 (No, not his, he can't own someone.)

 Red Robin was still in the same spot, which is good. He was also unconscious, which is less good. Gingerly, Danny put two fingers to the bird's neck, looking for and finding a pulse that while strong, was erratic and fast. He would bleed out without immediate attention, and it would be a bad idea to try and carry him to the nearest hospital for multiple reasons. Cursing, he took off his left glove and wrapped it under Red Robin's armpit, knotting it tight for a makeshift tourniquet. Trying to assess a chest wound with only the surface knowledge he knows from patching himself up would be disastrous, so from the small interdimensional space that held his possessions while in ghost form he pulled out his to-go med kit. Thankfully he hasn't needed it all that much since he got to Gotham, leaving much of the more heavy duty supplies for cases of emergency—cases like these. He takes the antibacterial spray and applies a generous amount to both the entry and exit wound, then seals both with his ghostly ice and wraps his torso in bandages. Debating on whether or not it was better to dress the cut on the fainted teens face, the need to respect his privacy won out and applied some gauze with a hint of frost to keep it on and to prevent infection.

 While not entirely satisfied with his handywork he knows the ice mixed with the spray will kill anything off except the bird himself, he focuses on the hard part.

 Telling the bats.

 He knows he has to. But the fear of them trying to look into him has him hesitating. His core thrums loud in his chest, urging him to help, protect your human, protect and the fear recedes for a moment. Before it can come back Danny pulls Red Robin's comm out of his ear and holds it over his own. Taking a fortifying breath he technically doesn't need he pressed the button on the earpiece and breathed out a nervous "H-hello?"

 "RR, status report." The female voice he recognized as hearing before, Oracle, comes over the comm instantly.

 "Uhhh, bird down?" He hadn't seen a code used for when a bat needs immediate assistance. He could've at least tried to sound more confident.

 "... Who are you and how did you get Red Robins' communicator?" Anand that just sent her on high alert, great going Fenton.

 Ignoring the question and putting a little more bravado in his voice he states "listen, Red Robin has been shot and needs medical assistance. I've patched him up but he's unconscious and might be in shock. One of you bats needs to get down to the docks and help him."

 The line was dead for a moment before another voice—was it Dick—came on the line to answer.

 "I'm on route to the docks now, tell me where he is and we'll see what happens to you."

 Relief flooded through Danny despite the thinly veiled threat and he quickly rattled off their coordinates, noting in between which warehouses they were in before turning off the comm and placing it in its original position.

 He stayed to make sure Red Robin was safe until he heard the silent hum of Nightwing's electric motorbike. Turning invisible he watched the older vigilante rush to check over Red Robin's wounds, make a comment into his comms, then turned his head to search for the one who patched him up.

 Giving up quickly he picked up his fainted younger bridal style and carried him over to his bike, placing him on the front with him just behind him to secure him. Then they were off, speeding to Danny didn't know where, probably the bat cave? He was about to head home when the thrum from his core gave him pause. It still needed to know Red Robin was safe, still calling to protect, even if there was no danger. Trying to ignore it would just make the thrum turn to a burn, so reluctantly Danny sped off to follow Nightwing and his (no, not his) Red Robin.

 'This is going to end either very well, or very badly…' Was all he could think.

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

[Next][Ao3]

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's second chance

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 14

Prompt: Angst with a happy ending

Rated: G

CW: referenced child neglect/abuse

Tags: Modern AU, Royalty AU, Royal Steve Harrington, Rockstar Eddie Munson

Notes: Continued from day 11. This was angstier in my head, but Eddie is a silly goose.

Eddie Munson is no stranger to fucking up. He's long accepted that. It's just a thing that happens.

Sometimes, you'll miscalculate a stage dive and have to cancel the rest of the tour. 

Sometimes, you'll get so caught up in your stupid rockstar stuff, you'll forget about the youth center you founded to give other kids a better childhood. 

Sometimes, you'll meet an adorable guy named Dustin at said youth center, and rant about how useless the monarchy is, only to find out that Dustin isn't Dustin at all, but Crown Prince Steven Harrington, aka the future king, aka owner of the saddest pair of puppy dog eyes that Eddie has ever failed to get out of his goddamn head. 

Which brings him to his current predicament, sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for Chrissy to pick up the phone. She does after the second dial tone, which is pretty impressive for three in the morning. 

"We must cancel the royal visit," Eddie blurts before she can ask what's wrong. 

"Eds," she yawns. "We've been over this. Just because you can't stand the guy-" 

"That's not it," Eddie groans. "Listen … I met him yesterday? Only I didn't know it was him? And I flirted with him and he was really cute but I couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut and now I can't ever see him again because I don't wanna rot in some dungeon, understand?" 

"No," she says. Damn, it sounded perfectly logical in his head. "But this doesn't seem like something we should discuss on the phone. Stay put, I'm coming over." 

*

They don't cancel the royal visit, but Eddie refuses to make an appearance. Instead, he watches from behind the curtains of the office window like a creep. The Prince looks dashing in his tailored suit, smiling for the cameras, joking with the kids, listening to Chrissy with polite attention as she shows him around the place. Eddie loves her so fucking much, will be forever grateful that she filled in for him. 

Even if she tied it to one condition. 

He watches how she whispers something into the Prince's ear, how his smile melts into an angry frown. How they both turn to stare at the window. Eddie flinches away from the curtains, heart in his throat. 

He wonders if the dungeons have WiFi. 

*

"You have exactly ten minutes," says the bodyguard. It’s the same one from yesterday, the one called Hop. Eddie doesn’t reply, just nods stiffly. Hop looks at him like he's contemplating murder, but then he ducks out of the room with a muttered all clear.

Prince Steven steps in. The door clicks shut. Silence descends. 

"Well," Eddie finally mumbles. "I guess this is the part where I bow and grovel." 

The Prince snorts. "Please don't, Mr Munson. I'd rather you save us both the embarrassment."

Eddie winces, because ouch. That stings more than it should. 

Neither of them says anything for a long while. The clock on the wall keeps ticking. 

"So," Eddie rocks awkwardly on the soles of his combat boots. "Who's Dustin?" 

Those plush lips twitch into a smile and those pretty eyes light up. For a moment, Eddie glimpses the boy from yesterday. 

"My housekeeper's kid. He'd be so mad if he knew I met you and didn't get him an autograph." 

He says it with genuine concern, like he's honestly afraid of getting shit from a little kid, and Eddie can't help but grin. 

"Don't worry, I won't tell." 

This gets him a huffed laugh. 

"He'd love this place, it's really cool." 

When Eddie looks up, the Prince is looking at the picture frames on the walls, photos of smiling kids and drawings in crayon and watercolors. Eddie sighs and joins him, stares long and hard of a picture of Max on her skateboard. 

"Thanks. I, um … grew up around here, and I wanted to give these kids a safe space. Where they can just … be children. I never really had that myself." 

A thoughtful hum. Those hazel eyes are soft with an expression that looks weirdly like longing. Eddie remembers watching stories about the royal family on his uncle's rickety TV set. A solemn-faced boy his own age trailing behind his parents outside of private jets, in lush parks and gilded halls. Always in expensive suits. Always well-behaved. Always way too grown-up.

Well, shit. 

"Listen, your highness …" 

"Steve is fine." 

"Listen, Steve …" Eddie lets the name linger on his tongue, finds that he likes the feel of it. "I guess I've been a bit of a dick." 

A hint of that bitchy little smile. "You guess correctly." 

"Whatever," Eddie huffs. "I'm trying to apologize here, so may I? Or are you throwing me in the dungeons?" 

"The …" Steve blinks. Then, his mouth starts to curl. "We, um … don't actually do that anymore. Unless you're into that, then I'm sure it could be arranged." 

Eddie sputters and Steve bites back a laugh. 

"If you really wanna make up for it," he then says. "I hear your concert next week is all sold out? Dustin would love backstage tickets." 

Eddie frowns. 

"Dustin as in the kid or …" 

"Steve?" Hop cracks the door open. "Time to go, c'mon." 

Steve smiles, bright and sunshiny. "On my way." 

He turns to Eddie, grabs a pen and a notepad from the chaos on the desk.

"Backstage tickets, two of them. I'll be expecting them by tomorrow." 

*

When Chrissy bustles in not five minutes later, she finds Eddie in the office chair, staring morosely at the still drawn curtains. 

"Eds? Everything okay?" Eddie just groans and hides his head in his hands, so she crouches down in front of him, hands on his knees. "He didn't give you shit, did he?" 

"Shit? I wish. No, it's far worse than that." Eddie cackles hysterically and unclenches his fist, presenting a crumpled piece of notebook paper. "He gave me his number." 

Part 3

All my holiday drabbles

[milliesfishes]

REQUEST FOR Refusing to give Billy kisses because you have a cold and don’t want him getting sick and he’s so grumpy about it PLZ

CUTE CUTE CUTE I LOVE YOUR REQUESTS ⋆౨ৎyou're sick and you won't give billy kisses⋆౨ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

You sniffled for the thousandth time today, wrinkling your nose as you squinted at the page in front of you. In the middle of this miserable, dry winter you'd caught a chill, maybe from staying outside too long, maybe from someone sneezing in town.

Billy had caught on quicker than you had, hauling out the medicine and practically spoon-feeding you broth. Even though it was only a cold, he always got a little on edge when you weren't feeling your best. Given his past misfortune with those he loved getting sick, you let him baby you, bundle you in a fluffy blanket and set you up on the sofa.

He was out cutting wood, having told you he'd start a fire for you to sit beside. For now you were content until he came back, sipping the cup of tea he'd made on the stove and reading your book.

The door creaked open, ushering in a breath of cold air that had you pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. Billy entered, snow flurrying the brim of his hat, carrying a pile of neatly cut logs. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, and he smiled brightly when he saw you. "Hi pretty. Feelin' any better?"

"I'm warm," you said, smiling back and sniffling again.

Billy set the logs down with a clatter, removing his hat and coat. He hung both on the pegs fixed to the wall. "You'll be warmer soon. I'll get a fire goin'."

He made his way over to you, and you moved over on the sofa, smiling when he set a palm warm from his gloves on your thigh. You leaned into him a little, and he bent his neck, moving in for a kiss.

You drew back, frowning. "Billy."

Opening his eyes, he took in your expression. "Hm?"

"I'm sick."

"I know." Billy moved in again, nose bumping yours, but you turned your head to the side, so his lips caught your cheek. Now he was frowning. "Baby?"

"I don't want to get you sick," you protested, scooting a little away from him. "You've already been out in the cold. I don't need you catching whatever I have."

Billy pouted, and your heart nearly melted. "Sweetheart, we can have kisses."

"Billy, I'm not getting you sick," you insisted, folding the blanket around yourself and shivering.

He stood up, brow still furrowed. "I'm gonna build you a fire. And then maybe you'll rethink your 'no kisses'."

You couldn't help but laugh at his expression, voice raspy. Snuggling into yourself on the sofa, you watched him artfully position the logs and light a match, tossing it in. He held out a hand, beckoning to you. "C'mere. We can cuddle, yeah?"

When you hesitated, he emphasized his hand, looking at you pleadingly. "You're not gonna get me sick, sweetheart. You're shiverin', I can keep you warm."

You sighed, setting your book aside and getting up, dragging your blanket behind you as you made your way over. Billy pulled you down into his lap, the glow of the fire warming you instantly. He adjusted the blanket around you, holding you against his body. Even though he'd been outside, he was warm as a hearth, and you cuddled against him, body relaxing in his arms.

Billy smoothed a big hand over your back, rubbing your spine lightly. He leaned his cheek on your head, and you closed your eyes, letting both the fire and Billy warm you up.

The silence stretched comfortably across the space of the cabin. It was a cozy scene, being here with Billy. He was content, you knew, albeit a little put off by your refusal of kisses. Truly, it only endeared you more to him- that he loved you so much that he didn't care for his health. But you did, and he wasn't getting sick on your watch.

Shifting you to an easier spot in his arms, Billy rested his chin atop your head. "Now can I kiss you?"

You giggled, unable to help yourself. Turning in his grasp, you snuggled closer. "Ask me tomorrow."

[frickingnerd]

hold me in your arms tonight

pairing: aerith gainsborough x gn!reader

summary: when sharing a bed with aerith, you try to do the right thing and give her space. but aerith wants you as close to her as possible…

tags: there's only one bed, tiny bit of angst (awkward!reader), silly & wholesome fluff, suggestive (hints at smut), friends to lovers

“you should take the bed, you need it more than me!”

“no, if anyone takes the bed, it should be you!”

that's how it had all started.

aerith and you had been paired up in an inn, unaware that the room you had to share didn't have two single sized beds, but instead one double bed.

you were quick to suggest you'd take the floor and aerith could have the bed. but all that ended up in was the two of you both wanting to take the floor and let the other one have the bed. until eventually, you had to agree that the smartest thing to do would be sharing the bed…

“i hope… this isn't too awkward for you.” you mumbled into your pillow, as you practically hugged the edge of the bed.

you really tried to leave aerith as much space as she needed, not even wanting to touch her. you tried to avoid doing anything that could make her uncomfortable, which included touching her or even looking at her!

“n-no, i don't mind…!” aerith assured you. there was a small smile that hushed over her lips, as she buried her face in her own pillow.

sharing a bed with you was kinda exciting for her. to be so close to the person she liked was like a dream come true. if this would end like in a romance novel, she might even get to wake up cuddled against you in the morning.

but for now, aerith tried to hide her excitement…

“i just… hope this won't happen again.” you sighed quietly. “we should be more careful when booking a room next time…”

there was a moment of silence. you could hear aerith shift around next to you, lightly pulling on the blanket in the process. and then, she spoke up:

“is it… really that bad to share a bed with me?”

aerith sounded almost sad. like you had offended her by showing what she perceived to be disappointment or disgust to be so close to her.

“wha– n-no, of course not!”

you quickly assured her, even turning around to face her. only that aerith had inched closer towards you while you weren't looking and was now face to face with you. you could feel her leg brush up against yours and you nervously averted your gaze.

“i– i don't really mind sharing a bed with you. in fact… i suppose i'd rather be with you than anyone else. it's just… i don't want to make you uncomfortable! so i'm trying to stay away from you…”

when you dared to look at aerith again, a small smile covered her lips. when your eyes met, she slowly inched a little closer, until your bodies were pressed against each other.

“i don't want you to stay away from me…” aerith whispered, close enough to you that she was sure you'd hear it.

“o-oh… o-okay…” you whispered dumbfounded, a little overwhelmed by this revelation. but slowly, you wrapped an arm around aerith, hoping she wouldn't see you blushing in the darkness.

“then i suppose… i won't stay away from you anymore…”

[comingdownwithme]

what do they do now that they’ve seen each other?

and how long does it take toby to eventually become fond of jeff again?

When they first saw each other, Jeff was fucking elated. In that moment, he wasn't "Jeff the Killer", a wanted man, dead or alive for a growing number of homicides, instead, he was Jeffery Woods, known teen troublemaker, eldest brother of a four person family, and a lost man who had damned himself to hell when he took out his grief and rage in the worst way possible after that night of the fire.

The man was desperate for that sense of familiarity, a sense of normalcy, of home, and there he was, just out of reach.

But for Toby, the bane of his existence was there, just within swinging distance.

And so, the proxy attacks.

Jeff would move on instinct, swinging first before he could even think.

The guilt that followed when he realised he had left a long, clean line from Toby's chest up to his shoulder still eats at him to this very day, stinging far worse than the deep cut Toby had left when he swung his axe into his side.

Jeff, crashing hard from the high he was riding only the briefest of seconds earlier, ran.

The proxy gave chase. The hooded man was in his territory, the hunting grounds of a faceless monster and those who serve it, and if there's any place Toby knew better than the back of his hand, it was these woods.

But Jeff didn't get this far, didn't get to live this long, if he wasn't a damn good escapist.

So, in the end, he had managed to get away. The odds were vastly against him, but Jeff was a survivor at heart and he had a track record for evening the odds and turning the losing hand the universe gave him into something passable.

Still, as the white-hooded killer grew the distance between him and the edge of those damned woods, confused and hurt not only by the still-bleeding wound at his side, but by the way his best friend had reacted, Jeff- sinking into his most selfish impulses- wanted that sense of normalcy, wanted to sink his teeth into the feeling of comfort he had gotten a mere taste of so badly and never let go, and if the world won't give him that, then he'll just have to carve that space himself.

And so, Jeff kept coming back.

It would take a good while until Toby warms up to Jeff again, both because of his reluctance to and because the both of them aren't exactly ones to stay in one place for too long, though Jeff is the one that makes sporadic appearances due to being- y'know- a known serial killer on the run.

Still, Toby does eventually grow closer to him. Especially when A) Jeff is a persistent asshole who won't miss a single second whenever he's around to visit Toby, even actively searching for him when he has the time to and getting into trouble as he does, and B) Toby just... can't bring himself to actually kill the other man. He's hated him for so, so long, but in every instance he had caught him off guard and attacked, Toby would stand, frozen in place before he could even finish the other man off.

The first time Toby had attacked Jeff led him to rsalise that something had happened to his best friend. Something bad, and something big. but God knows Jeff shouldn't be talking about how much someone had changed when he can barely even recognise the thing that stares back at him in the mirror.

His own hesitance annoyed the proxy to hell and back at first, but eventually Jeff's persistence and a lack of self preservation paid off, and Toby- either feeling too worn out to even bother, or was feeling particularly generous that one night- gave in just this once.

Then he gave in again when prompted at Jeff's next visit.

And again with the next.

And again.

And then one night, maybe, he's come to the realisation that he's started to miss the pale, deformed rat of a man who seems to know Toby better than even he himself does, to miss the ghost that had been haunting him all this time.

[lxvebun]

Safehouse

synopsis: the only signs of life in Simon's apartment happen to all be things related to you.

content: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gender neutral reader. Fluff +slight hurt/comfort. Pushing my Soft simon agenda. Use of nicknames Love and Doll. Around 500 words. Eng is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes♡ not completely proofread let me know if there are any annoying mistakes♡

There are traces of you lingering all over Simon's place. Little sparks of warmth in an otherwise dull and cold apartment. Like the dried roses hanging above his bed. A striking contrast of withered red on a pale white wall. It's the only piece of decoration he has. You gave him a small bouquet on your first date. Although a bit shy and hesitant because would a guy like him even like roses? Flowers in general? He never cared for them before but his heart skips a beat now every time he sees them, be it in nature or the ones above his bed that act as a nontraditional dreamcatcher. Because "they make me dream of you, love" He confessed

Or the stupidly soft and fluffy throw blanket you conveniently "forgot" at his place. The one that's decorated with doodle forms of ghosts and hearts. It's neatly folded next to his pillow and if you catch him cuddling up to it in his sleep, "you're just hallucinating. Go back to bed, doll."

You never asked for it back and any attempts to give it to you resulted in you forgetting it again at his place. Partly because it's just a very fitting blanket and the thought of him using it makes your heart soar but mostly because you've slept under Simon's normal sheets and they are thin, do a horrible job at keeping out the cold and you're pretty sure holes are starting to appear at the seams.

You know his apartment looks the way it does because he doesn't want to get too used to comfort. He doesn't want to dull the edge his job has left him with only to have to sharpen it again once he leaves. So he doesn't admit that his skin is cold, or that the couch is falling apart and that the windows need replacing because he'll leave again in a few months if not sooner anyway. Where there won't be things as thick warm sheets or comfortable living space.

This survival instinct of his is not strong enough to keep him from staying over at your place any chance he gets tho. And although he keeps saying, for reasons you now know, that he doesn't need much, you can see the weight on his shoulders melt off the moment he steps foot into your home. Your home with warm, low lighting and flickering candles carrying the scent of vanilla. Your home with dark oak bookcases stretching out against the walls holding stories from fantasy to non-fiction and the occasional little trinket.

Your home that's utterly and completely you from the color of paint on your walls, the ridiculously large ceramic mugs in the cupboard, to the plants you keep in your windowsill and the scent of your candles. It's you. It's safe.

It's safe enough for him to lower his guard. It's still there of course, it's been so engraved into his very being you're not sure it will ever leave, but it significantly decreased in the way he's not quieting his breaths to tune in to the footsteps in the corridor or the way he's not constantly trying to feel the outline of his concealed weapons through his clothes.

You're glad you can bring him a sense of safety and warmth, all you ever want is for him to be happy. But you do admit you would love to find more traces of him lingering in your home. Even just the thought of seeing his shoes next to yours at your front door everyday makes warmth bloom in your chest.

Perhaps tonight you can finally ask him to move in with you.♡

Thank you for reading, Angel♡

More Simon fics

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Hello

I would like to request a smut prompt for Sergeant Hunter. (Only if you’re up for it oc)

I had ❛ let me come in you, please. i want to fill you up. ❜ in mind. It’s fits him so well 👀

Or, if you’re in the mood for something else,

❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜

The choice is yours, cheers ^^

emerges from my cave, writes hurt/comfort instead of smut, disappears back into my cave. sorry nonnie, the smut muse didn't want to cooperate for this one

Tell Me

Summary: Hunter does his best to protect you, but feels he must prove it in more ways than one. Prompt in bold and red.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: allusions to harassment, Hunter being bad at talking about his feelings, fade to black so nothing NSFW but this blog is still 18+, first kiss, hurt/comfort vibes

You've never experienced Hunter's anger like this. He usually doesn't let his emotions get the better of him and, no matter his own issues, ensures the squad stays mostly on task. Even when hiccups interrupt the plan, he rolls with the punches. The Bad Batch has a 100% mission success rate for a reason. 

But tonight the issue is so much more than a mere hiccup. No, the creep at the cantina was far more unpleasant. 

The squad can gather intel in its sleep; any of you could've staked the cantina out alone and been successful. Hunter had insisted everyone partake. In hindsight, you're glad he pushed for it, even if you and Crosshair both grumbled aloud at Hunter's mother-hennishness. You'd strode straight into the shithole bar, determined to get what you were sent for and get out as quickly as possible. 

Then that stranger got a little too friendly. He'd invaded your personal space and put his hands on you despite your very evident discomfort, reeking of cheap alcohol and bad decisions. 

Hunter had stepped in. Well... he'd done more than that. You're not envious of the stranger and his freshly broken nose.

The sergeant, glowering and shaking his hand out, had growled at the others to stay put and finish the mission. Then he'd all but ordered you back to the ship, giving you no choice but to follow or risk his wrath as well. 

Now, back on board the Marauder, you sigh as your irritation grows, prickly and uncomfortable in your chest. "Hunter."

"What," he snaps. 

"You don't have to babysit me." Crossing your arms, you lean against the bulkhead, fixing him with an unimpressed glare. 

"I'm not—" He turns away, jaw working. Shadows play over his face, backlit by the ship's control panels. His heaving chest gives enough indication that he's mentally working through something.

Softening, you take a step toward him. "Will you at least talk to me?"

His nostrils flare as you move closer. "You— You smell him now." 

"I'm sorry?"

"S'not your fault," he says, misinterpreting your words. His shoulders slump. "It's my job to protect you- you all. And I was so close to failing tonight." 

"Hunter," you say gently, holding one hand out. 

He looks down at your outstretched palm and tentatively reaches to hook your fingertips together. Even through the coarse fabric of his blacks, his warmth scorches through you. Though his nose remains scrunched, when his eyes find yours, he seems to finally step back from the edge of anger. But the emotions continuing to shine in his eyes give you pause. 

Swallowing down the burgeoning hope in your chest forcing out the irritation, you squeeze his fingers. "I appreciate you looking out for me. I really do. But is this about protecting me? Or is this something else? I- I can shower if it's a sensory issue—"

"No," he interrupts. Adjusting his hold, his fingers twine between yours. He tugs you closer. "I mean—it won't be an issue for long. Kark, I'm goin' about this all wrong." 

The sergeant sighs, pulling you in for a hug. While you've embraced him before, surprise hums along your veins. Tentative, you wrap your arms around his middle, and tuck your face into the crook of his neck, where his own scent is strongest, a unique blend of earth and musk and sweat that makes your insides stir. He tightens his arms. 

"Not that this isn't nice," you say, voice muffled, "but what're you doing?"

He's quiet for a moment. "Making you smell like me." 

You blink. "Oh." Without meaning to, you inhale a deep breath, his warm scent swirling within your lungs. "You do smell good."

Hunter chuckles. The sound vibrates against your chest. "That right?"

Humming in affirmation, you press the bridge of your nose to his skin. His pulse beats against your nose; its pace quickens. For a heartbeat, you manage to contain the response that leaps to the tip of your tongue. Is this really the time?

But then again, you've been waiting for the right time to broach the subject of your feelings for months. You've shared a few hugs, left countless lingering looks when you think he isn't looking, chased an orgasm or two in silence when he's not around. If you keep waiting, the right time won't ever happen. And you'll be left wondering.  

Throwing caution to the wind, you say, "Be easier if you take your armor off." 

"Mesh'la," he murmurs. The endearment somehow sounds like a warning. "I- Your heart is racing. You're not thinking clearly."

Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you resist the urge to pull away at what feels like a rejection. Have you been reading all the signs wrong? Did you misread the situation earlier? You're relatively certain any of the squad would have jumped to your defense--but would the others have needed to be physically restrained from doing more damage? Would Wrecker have had to pry Tech, or Crosshair, or Echo, away from your assailant like he'd done to Hunter?

No, you decide, you've been reading the signs correctly. Stepping out of his embrace but not his orbit, you search Hunter's gaze. Threading your fingers together once again, you raise his hand to brush your lips over the knuckles surely bruising under his gloves. Hunter's lips part in surprise. 

"I'm thinking perfectly clearly." You hesitate, then forge ahead. "Tell me you don't feel anything for me, and I'll go back to pining in silence. Tell me I'm the only one who sees something here. Tell me... Tell me you broke his face because I'm part of the squad, and no other reason. Please."

Hunter inhales a shallow breath. His eyes, gray in the dim light of the Marauder's controls, sear into yours with an unidentifiable mix of emotions. "I can't." 

Relief floods through you. With a weak smile, you gesture to yourself. "Do I still smell like him?" 

He nods. 

"Do you care for me?"

Another nod, stronger than the previous. 

"Then do something about it, Hunter." Guiding his gloved touch to your face, you lean into his warmth. 

His throat bobs when he swallows. After another moment of silent indecision, Hunter steps into your personal space, gaze searching your expression. He must not find anything worth stopping for, because his grip tightens behind your jaw. The tip of his crooked nose slides along the side of your own nose, breath puffing warm and unsteady over your face. 

You close the gap. Your mouths slot together, and it's like coming home after a long time away. Humming in the back of your throat, you press closer, deepening the kiss without hesitation. Hunter follows your lead. His armor still blocks you from truly feeling him, but you don't care. His lips are on yours, and your heart is his. 

Your name slips from his lips like a prayer. Eyes fluttering open, you peer up at him from beneath your lashes. "Yes?" 

"A-Are you sure?"

"I am."

"Then let me prove that you're mine," he murmurs. His touch lingers along your waist before drifting towards your center. "Let me prove that I take care of what belongs to me." 

A shiver skates up your spine. "Show me."

Ragu list: to be added or removed go here!

@dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations

@523rdrebel @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles

@starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator

@sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @dickarchivist @a-single-tulip

@thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831

@mssbridgerton @isaidonyourknees @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins

@dangraccoon @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl  @zenrobbins0021

[desceros]

fuck it blurple time donatello/reader; female reader; rated t

...He can smell you, here.

You must've taken a nap here this afternoon, he thinks, turning his face into his pillow. His eyes close, his lungs filling with the proof that you were in his bed. Using his pillow. Inside his sheets. You sleep here more than you sleep in your own bed sometimes, it seems.

He's having trouble remembering that that shouldn't be the case. That you have your own room in the lair. That you're not... his. Even as much as he wants you to be. Even as much as you are, in almost every way that matters.

...God. God, he wants you. He wants you so fucking much—

A soft, familiar sound has him unfurling his fingers from his pillow where he'd been gripping it to his face like it was the softness of you he craved to consume. He turns his head and sees you hovering in his door, your back to him as you shut it as quietly as possible so as not to disturb his brothers. They're both asleep, he assumes from the way you're trying to sneak. It's not like you think he's the one asleep. That he wouldn't know you were here.

It's a familiar ritual, this dance, like all of the others. How you pad across his room, kicking off your slippers next to his bed. How you pull away his blanket off his body. How you slide into his sheets and pull them over the both of you. How you curl against his soft shell, tucking your knees into the back of his, pressing your thighs close and nuzzling the edge of his carapace with your nose. You're warm, just like always, and yet the feel of you makes him hot.

"...Donnie?" you ask, your voice soft in the darkness between you.

"What?" he asks, going still when you hesitate.

"...Is... Is everything okay?" you ask, voice small, and oh. Oh. Not this question again. Not the question that he can't answer, not to a face as open and honest and perfectly not his as yours.

"Yeah." It's a lie. He knows it. He knows you know it.

...He wants to turn around. To bury his face into the crook of your neck. To wrap himself around you and press you to his heartbeat. He wants to kiss you. To trail his beak down your throat. Feel your pulse beneath his tongue. He wants to slide his hands beneath the shirt that was once his but now is only ever found hiding your curves from his covetous eyes. He wants to taste the sound of his name in your mouth. He wants to feel your skin against his keratin; purposeful, damp with sweat, smelling like the two of you twining together. He wants to—

God. He wants to consume every piece of you you'll give.

But he knows he won't. He won't turn around. Because it's different. A violation of the pact you've made. Something new. Something frightening.

...And, he silently admits, staring at the wall before him—he's afraid of who else he'll smell on your skin. Whose sharp canine teeth have been tracing your pulse, writing his name into it like a brand of ownership. Taking the space that should be Donnie's like it's just that easy.

He hates Leo, he decides, feeling his brow ridge furrow, for that, more than anything else.

Then, because you're you, because you are the most perfect creature he's ever known, because you are the other half of him, you seem, almost, to sense his turmoil. Then, as easily as you do everything else, you soothe it.

Gentle hands press along an old wound. He doesn't regret them, the scars. It's the proof that you're here. Unmarked. As perfect as you should be. His blood for yours, traded willingly on an altar that had brought him to his knees before he'd known how to pray. He sees the grief on your face, sometimes, when you look at them, and it's... it's a conflict. On the one hand, it infuriates him; to think that he'd ever let any harm come to you when he's at your side? Maddening. But, on the other—knowing that you'd give your flesh for his, that a piece of you feels the same, even if only for this—god. Donnie only hopes the sound stays in his lungs where you can't hear.

And, in an instant, in the inky black of his room, everything changes.

Your lips, soft as moonlight, ghost against the memory of his devotion. His lungs catch on a gasp, eyes staring, unseeing, his heart itself seizing in his chest. It's—It's impossible, what his keratin is feeling, and yet—

Like rain, your brushing kisses trace the line of his scar. Each inch bathed in relentless love, warm and soft and aching. He feels himself tremble, feels the way you press into him in response, your mouth only more sure against his shell. Only then does he remember to breathe, his eyes clenching shut against the barrage of you.

The sensation is like ecstasy. Stupid with it, he arches his spine, pressing into you, silently accepting anything, everything. Softly, your palm glides along the edge of his carapace, holding on as you dip your head, kissing and kissing and kissing. He can't think of anything else. Every thought is obliterated, leaving only the smell of you in his pillow as he turns his face, fingers curling into his sheets, entire body quaking to the tempo of your care.

Only the years of training ironed into his soul keeps him from turning, from pulling, from showing you everything he's kept safe behind this wall. But he can't help but let one little piece through—the soft lovesick whimper that he can't hold back; the proof for your ears, should you hear it, of exactly what you do to him.

Do you know? he wonders, sinking into the sensations as if embracing a dream. Do you know how much he—?

[samonroegf]

we meet again | rockstar!sam monroe

you haven't seen or heard from sam monroe in 10 years. what happens when you go and see your favorite band, and your childhood best friend is the one on stage?

requested by @crymyblood and inspired by this post. some nice cliche friends to strangers to lovers. ᝰ masterlist

senior year.

sam’s head leaned in your window, it was inching towards 4 in the morning. the dark sky starting to be bleached with the light colors of dawn. sam was out of breath and had a smirk on his face, “hey, didn't know if you'd still be awake.”

you smiled back at him, setting aside the latest book that had your attention. you walked towards the window, leaning on the edge of it, sam's face mere inches from yours. “couldn't put the book down," you laughed.

“i don't have much time, the bus is leaving soon. will come with me?” time has stopped in this moment, the brisk morning air making puff of smoke when sam spoke.

“you’re leaving?” your heart stopped in your chest, falling to the deepest pits of your stomach. your world crashing around you, your safe space, your best friend is leaving.

“i am. i can't stay in this stupid town, i hate it here. I'm running away, will you come with me? please, come with me.” his eyes were so big, asking for too much. your heart and your mind fought ferociously in your body.

“where are you even going? do you have money?” concern boiled under the surface, your hands shook.

“it doesn't matter. are you coming with me?” his hand outreached towards you, and you wanted to take it. you couldn't get yourself to, you loved sam but you couldn't just runaway and go nowhere.

“i-i can't, sam. I can't go but,” you paused and searched through your nightstand, years of saved up birthday money.

you shove the envelope in his hand, “take this, it's $1200. it won't get you super far but it'll help.”

“i can't take th-” sam's eyes were welling to the brim with tears, he can't believe you said no. he never even thought that was a possibility.

“you will. you'll take it, and it'll help. i love you.” in a haze of dizziness and flurrying emotions, you pressed your lips to his. his hands are soft and chapped.

he froze for a moment, only a moment, and then he was gone. out of your window, out of your hometown, out of your life.

modern day. concert.

you basked in the music of your favorite band, humid air and hot bodies surrounded you. everyone cheering on the main act. your heart thumped in your chest, adrenaline rushing through veins while seeotonin flooded your mind.

there was few things that compared to being at a concert. everyone around you hyped, your body is sweaty, the air is gross, but the people that saved you standing mere feet away.

the lead singer usually had a mask on while performing, but recently decided to axe it in live concerts for the fans.

the utter shock that tore through your body when the lead singer that stared back at you was sam monroe. the same boy that left all those years ago.

he looked so similar but so different. of course, he still had his face. but he was now covered with so many tattoos, more piercings, and all of his hair is colored.

without better words, he looked hot. once you pieced it together, his voice wasn't all that different, just deeper now, a little raspier. probably from smoking, and screaming during his songs.

you felt whiplashed from the amount emotions that cut through you. you listened to the songs on a much deeper level, you wondered if any of the songs were about you. a bit conceded but he knew you from kindergarten to senior year, kinda leaves an impression on a person.

modern day. after the concert.

the concert had ended you stood in the venue trying to figure out how to see him. you needed to talk to him, you'd missed him more than anything in the world. you needed to see sam, needed him to see you.

the technicians for the band, started carrying the instruments into the back of the van.

“hey! um, kinda weird question, do you think you can get sam for me?” you voice was shaky, and you knew the likelihood was low. or it would be if only sam didn't go by his legal name anymore, didn't want to be known.

so when you ask for him by that name, one of them uses the com to ask for him, you tell him your name and shortly sam appears in front of you.

he looks somewhere between unnerved and thankful to see you. you couldn't help it, tears welled in your eyes. you never thought you'd ever see him again. you can't do anything but pull him in for a hug. you couldn't stop to think he'd be unhappy to see you. he's the one that left.

he hugs you back hard, basically crushing you. he rubs his face in the crook of your neck, he's holding you so close. the one that got away.

“sammy, i-i’m sorry! I'm sorry i didn't go with you. I've missed you so much, i-i didn't-” you're blubbering. you didn't care that the rest of his band, and the crew could probably see you. your emotions were overwhelming, like waves taking you under.

“sh, hush, it's okay. i know, i know.” his shirt is balled up in your hand, and he's rubbing comforting circles on your back. he didn't know what to say. what do you say to someone you haven't seen in forever?

“you-” you began to talk, looking at sam. you're really taking him all in, this man just might be the love of your life.

your thoughts are interrupted by his hands holding your face, his lips enveloping yours. the softness of his lips constrasts harshly with the need that he kisses you with.

“i can't let you go again,” he breathes after a few monents, his forehead against yours.

“i never forgot, i think of you all the time, i, please come with me? go on tour with us, will you?” he's looking at you expectantly, fear evident in his eyes. he's scared of that same rejection all over again.

“i will, i will. I don't want to lose you again, sam. i will follow you forever." you're holding his hands against your face.

sam gets the stupidest and widest grin on his face. “who woulda thought I'd fall for a fan,” he laughs and you can't help but punch him in the arm.

“oh my god. shut up.”