#but she's literally just saying ici! ici! and if it's supposed to be shocking then maybe I. a dumbass. shouldn't understand.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello! I hope my request won’t bother you but can i ask for a funny scenario where Hades, Poseidon, Hercules, and Thor, falling in love with goddess reader who is the child of Nyx and Erebus? Like the reader is the goddess of stars and her hair would kinda flow in the air with stardust and her eyes sparkles like twinkling stars? She’s also very kind and beautiful and that’s why her powerful parents adore her and refuses to let her get married? If you can, can you add Zeus, Aphrodite, and Odin’s reaction to the gods proposing to reader but reader’s parents won’t allow it. Thank you ^~^

-You were the light of your parents, Nyx and Erebus’ eyes, quite literally, being the goddess of stars, you were so bright, so cheerful, and so beautiful.

-Long flowing dark hair that looked to have stars interwoven, sparkling and shimmering in the light, and your eyes twinkled as if you had diamonds in them.

-Your kindness and gentle heart matched your beauty, making you truly a beautiful goddess, inside and out.

-However, with pretty daughters come big responsibilities and your parents had their hands full with the number of suitors coming for your hand since you became of age.

-They had refused all offers, refusing to let you be taken away by any of these other gods whom they deemed not worthy of someone so wonderful as you.

-Still, despite their efforts, a few managed to get by them to you while you were out and about, to approach you with marriage in mind.

-Hades- Knew he couldn’t ask you to marry him outright, as you didn’t know each other, but when he approached you, kneeling down and handing you a red rose, asking for the dance to court you, to take you out on a date. You were surprised that the king of the underworld was vying for your affections but before you could answer you heard, “NO!!!” and instantly you were in your father’s arms, “Nobody’s dating my baby!!” before running off with you. Hades did realize shortly afterward, that you had accepted his rose.

-Poseidon- You were perfect, beautiful, kind, and extremely powerful, no other would do as his queen, and he immediately approached when he saw you were alone for one, “Will you marry me?” you were going to refuse, having heard that numerous times, but your eyes widened, seeing Poseidon there of all gods, stunned that he was asking you. His eyes were soft and kind looking, unlike his normal iciness, and you smiled gently up at him but before you could saw anything your father immediately ran over, throwing you over his shoulder, “Not today!!” Poseidon’s eyelid twitched in annoyance, staring after you.

-Hercules- He approached you with the intentions of asking you to marry him, but as you turned to face him, hearing his footsteps, his voice failed him as his face turned bright red. He held up a simple daisy to you, making you smile softly as his approach had surprised you, but to see the simple gift, it made you so happy. Hercules managed to stutter out a question, asking you on a date, as he wimped out asking you to marry him and you were surprised, as none had asked you on a date before, just jumping straight to marriage. You took his hand which stunned him before you heard your parents, “How dare you hold my baby’s hand?!” your mother hugged you close while your father was yelling at Hercules, who looked a bit defeated by their declination.

-Thor- It was shocking to look up at Thor after he had cleared his throat, wanting to speak with you, but you smiled softly up at him, greeting him warmly. Your kind smile and warm glow made his brain flat line, he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to say as he handed you a red rose. Your eyes lit up with surprise before you took it, “Thank you for this! You’re so sweet!!” He instantly kneeled, spooking you as he took your hand, “Will you marry me, Y/N?” your mother instantly ran over, roundhouse kicking Thor away from you, “No she will not!!” Thor was okay, a bit stunned, as your mother picked you up over her shoulder and dashed off with you.

-Zeus- Approached your parents later that same day after seeing his brother/son try to propose, “May I inquire why you are so against your daughter marrying Hades/Poseidon/Hercules?” your father scowled, “Nobody is good enough for my baby!” Zeus chuckled warmly, stroking his beard, but his aura was threatening, “Are you calling my brother/son not good enough? Who is good enough then?” you ignored the shouting adults as you managed to sneak out, going out to the garden where you saw Hades/Poseidon/Hercules waiting for you with a smile.

-Aphrodite- Your mother was suspicious of her arrival, “Why are you here Aphrodite?” the goddess of love just smiled, “I’ve come to inquire why you won’t let Y/N get married. I saw the proposal of Hades/Poseidon/Hercules and I thought it was cute!” Father crossed his arms, pouting, “Nobody is good enough for her!” Aphrodite, having dealt with situations like this before, smiling, “Then if nobody is good enough, will your daughter be forever alone then? The love of a parent and the love of a partner are very different.” her words made them freeze, realizing this before she tried prying again, seeing you sneaking out behind them, which made her smile, as you went out to meet up with Hades/Poseidon/Hercules.

-Odin- If your parents were intimidated, they tried not to show it, “Why is my son not allowed to marry your daughter?” your father glared harshly, “Nobody is marrying my precious baby!” Odin was annoyed at their words, trying to keep calm, to reason with them, “Then will your daughter be alone for the rest of her life?” Mother flinched lightly, not liking that as your father tried to defend their actions, not wanting you to be with anyone unworthy of you. Odin’s powerful aura shook your whole house, “Are you calling my son unworthy?” the two men glared at each other, the three of them unaware you had snuck out, leaping down from your balcony from your bedroom into Thor’s waiting arms, smiling brightly at him, which made him smile as you snuck off.

[yourworsttotebag]

tell me more about your thoughts on wyll needing a hero….. 👁️👁️ evie dating sim next steps??

Very broadly, I just enjoy the idea of the hero getting rescued, laying down their literal and metaphorical armor and having someone hold them and care for them.

And I think Wyll is such a good candidate for this because he so badly wants to be the right kind of hero. He'll gladly accept more and more weight and responsibility. I wonder if maybe he feels some necessary part of being heroic is the suffering and the shouldering of burdens. I think Wyll might not even realize how much being a hero, or even just a good guy, is weighing on him until the pressure is relieved just a tiny bit.

The specific Wyll/Evie arranged marriage au I've been puttering around with is extremely vibes based. The timeline is all cooked, there's no ending, there's enormous time skips where I just don't know what's supposed to happen. It's more of a wish list than anything.

Right now I'm picturing a) their current game ages in their mid 20s and b) Wyll isn't a warlock yet. Is Wyll changed too much by pushing this event later? That - remains to be seen, don't think about it, don't worry, we're gonna figure it out or we won't.

But I think during his time in Baldur's Gate, Wyll would still feel beholden to heroic ideals and feel a little burdened by the idea of being a Duke and living up to his father. And Wyll's banishment would come after he and Evie have gotten past their initial iciness, after their big sex scene, when they think things are most likely to work out, so it feels as bad as possible that Wyll is suddenly gone.

He kind of falls into monster hunting as he wanders around the Sword Coast, the story we're all familiar with. The people Wyll helps adore him and he's happy to be of use but he's at his emotional low point. He has new warlock powers but they're frightening and unfamiliar. His family, including his wife, is gone. He can never go home again.

So one of the scenes I have actually written is one where Wyll is pinned down by some Really Bad monsters and Evie suddenly rides in and saves the day. And Wyll is shocked! He figured she would write him off as dead and start her life over but instead she left her comfortable existence to come find him because she was worried about him.

And all of my iterations of Evie kind of thrive at the fun adventuring parts of being a hero for hire. She's been so bored and isolated for so long that having a cause to focus on gives her a ton of energy. She says to Wyll, "Hey, I care about you and I'm basically a super hero. Let's keep each other safe instead of you suffering alone because you think you need to atone or want to be extra noble while a dragon cuts you in half."

What does it mean for Wyll to establish his Blade of Frontiers rep with a partner? Is it a lot different from the game? Does it ever dovetail with tadpole stuff? I honestly have no idea. I answered another ask where I went into more of the difficulties I'm facing with this because I'm just too early in the process to even know what I'm doing. It could all get split into something else for all I know!

I DO think they would make a pretty hilarious good cop/bad cop duo on the frontiers. Like, "You better tell us who's in charge of your murder cult. My wife's a sorcerer and she's crazy." Wyll insists that he can be the bad cop sometimes and Evie's just like, "Oh honey...no...no, you can't."

[ebonybow]

hello i am here to ask about Loren & Enya and aksflsk literally any (or all) of those watcher fics

Jack!!! Thank you for asking!!

Loren & Enya was a little fantasy story I started writing after a long week of playing Skyrim, about an adventurer and a hunter who shack up together out of necessity, and romance ensues. It's very tropey and indulgent but I also wanted to write a trans character (Loren) in a fantasy setting.

Firstly she notices the glow of the fire just beyond the cliff's edge, and, when she peers down, the elkskin tent set against the face of rock below. The hunter himself is a young man, kicking around in the shallows of the lake, crouching down to wash off his hands and drying them on a scrap of cloth from his pocket as he stands.

"Hey!" Enya shouts, as a thought comes to her, and the hunter straightens up, head whipping in her direction, "Are you selling?"

At the end of the day, there's any chance that a hunter is trying to get rid of goods about to go bad, if he cannot eat them himself. The hunter raises his eyebrows, listening, and then shakes his head apologetically.

"Fresh out," he says, hands in his pockets, shoulders turned in as he gives her a once over. Enya wonders what it is about her appearance that makes his eyes soften.

"You're welcome to join me for my meal, I have enough to share," he adds, gesturing towards the spit balanced over his campfire.

If I was writing an actual Elder Scrolls story, it would take place a little ways down from Riverwood, across the river from Anise's cabin maybe. But I like the thought of setting it in my own little fantasy world.

~~~

Tis The Damn Season, inspired by a Taylor Swift song of the same name (and a little bit of Dorothea also). I wanted to write a hallmarky-Christmas themes fic but with a little side of chest-hurty goodness.

Shane and Ryan are in their 30s, Ryan has returned to their fictional hometown of Woodvale after leaving for LA 9 years prior, leaving Shane behind. The fic is the story of their bittersweet reunion. The b-movie star and the history teacher in a small town.

"I just wanted to say hi," Shane says, quietly. "I thought, uh, I thought maybe enough time had passed that we could… I don't know." 

Ryan swallows hard as he takes it all in. He'd felt it too, the moment he'd set eyes on Shane across the marketplace. That pull in his chest, begging him to move his feet towards the feeling. Not as strong as it had been nine-or-so years ago, but still there nonetheless. Infuriatingly so, Ryan notes. 

"I wasn't expecting to see you here," he says, instead of snapping the way he wants to. How dare you sneak up on me like this. How dare you, when you were the first to run away. 

"I live here," Shane says, in lieu of an answer, hands tucked into the pockets of his quilted vest. 

"How was I supposed to know you were still-" Ryan cuts himself off, sucks in a lungful of icy air, and looks up at Shane, finally getting a good, proper look at him. At the stall he'd been too shell-shocked, too surprised to really take in what he was seeing up close, trying to keep his cool facade. But it's the same face he remembers, just older. More beard, more freckles, more tired. 

Shane's eyes narrow at him. 

"How were you supposed to know I was still kicking around this ‘dead-end town’? We didn't all dream of making a great escape to the big ol’ city, Ryan." 

There's some reunion sex, some late night smoking in Shane's truck and sleeping in until noon just like the old days. And then, some figuring out how to make it work when Ryan eventually has to go back to LA.

Toying with the idea of finishing it for Christmas this year but my writing motivation is nowhere to be found unfortunately. 💔

[sonsband]

I Finished Yellowjackets And I Must Scream

[sundaysundaes]

Love Bites

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader, ft. Mark Lee | Vampire AU, Roommates AU | Smut, Fluff, Humor, Romance

Summary: Supernatural creatures don’t scare you, so when the cute neighbor who lives just across the hallway offers you a chance to move in for cheaper rent, you agree in a heartbeat--even when he consumes human blood on a daily basis.

Warnings: Smut, vampire sex, sex in front of a mirror, blood sucking, unprotected sex, slight choking. For the sake of the plot, Y/N is slightly intoxicated in this fic (drunk sex). Please don’t read this fic if this makes you feel uncomfortable. I also don’t approve nor allow taking advantage of your romantic partner while they are under the influence of alcohol.

Supernatural things don’t really scare you. Growing up in a family that tells urban legends and mystical myths as bedtime stories makes you feel somewhat reserved toward spooky stuff, to the point that you won’t even bat an eyelash during a jump scare at literally any scary movie out there. It’s not like you’ve seen any supernatural creatures with your own eyes but you believe in their existence, especially when you live in a town where freaky things happen on daily basis. 

You’re not sure about werewolves and zombies, but vampires do roam the earth the second the moon replaces the sun. It’s not merely a rumor anymore, it’s a fact. But they keep their presence in secret, trying to act as humanly as possible so they won’t gather unnecessary attention. And since no one has found any dead bodies with bite marks or severe blood loss, people don’t really identify them as a threat. You perceive things in a similar way. As long as they don’t bother you, then you can co-exist in peace. That’s what you believe.

So when you visit your neighbor in the middle of the night, the cute guy—probably still in his early twenties—who lives just across the hallway, you figure you’ll see him smiling back, maybe even offer you a cup of coffee out of courtesy. Now, you don’t usually barge into someone else’s apartment even when the front door is unlocked, but seeing how the two of you are already on a first-name basis, always greet each other with a nod whenever your eyes make eye contact, you think to yourself, “Yeah, he wouldn’t mind if I come in, would he? What’s the worst thing that could happen? He’s too cute to be a serial killer anyway.” Which, you realize soon enough, was a poor, terrible logic on your part. 

But you turn over his doorknob with a click and invite yourself in.

So clearly, you do not expect to see him sitting bare-chested on the couch with his girlfriend’s legs hooked around his waist. Clearly, you do not expect to see his hand yanking at the roots of her hair, forcing her to expose the column of her neck and making her call his name in the most wanton moan you’ve ever heard in your life—even if you’ve had a fair share of watching porn movies (for research purposes). And you most clearly do not expect to see him sinking his canines deep into her skin, not caring when trails of blood start to taint her bare shoulder and groaning in bliss as he relishes the taste of her blood.

So naturally, the only thing you can think of is:

Oh shit.

“Wait!” A hand finds its way to tangle around your wrist when you slip behind his front door to run back to your own. His icy cold skin makes you flinch in surprise but you keep your face still. As you turn around to see the owner, you’re greeted by the sight of him with his eyes turning as dark as the night. His brunette hair is made of curls and waves, seems unbelievably soft and silky with bangs almost covering his eyes. His lips and cheeks are smeared with fresh blood, possibly from trying to wipe his mouth in hurry with the back of his hand. His fangs are no longer shown and although he seems breathless, you can tell he’s not breathing from how still his chest is moving (but you’re too distracted with the sight of how toned it is). His black jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, unbuttoned but not yet unzipped, and it’s harder for you to not stare at his v-lines compared to the amount of blood that painted his lips.

Trying to act nonchalant, you simply ask, “Yes?”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, so you’re not a vampire drinking blood from your girlfriend’s neck?”

He gapes, eyes growing wide, before, “Okay, then it is what it looks like.”

You retract your hand, giving him a formal nod. “Cool.” 

“Cool?”  

“Yeah, as in, no problem. You have a kink. I understand.”

“No, I mean—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, somewhat dizzy from your reaction. “Why are you so calm about this?”

You frown. “I’m confused. Would you rather have me freak-out and tell our landlord that you’ve been spilling maiden’s blood on his carpet?”

“Well, no, but—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Also, I’m a professional. I don’t leave stains.”

“Congratulations, I’m impressed.” You clap your hands twice, face blank. “Well anyway, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to sneak into your apartment without permission and disturb your…” You scratch your cheek, attempting to find the right word. “Late night snacking time—”

“Oh, God.” He rubs his palm over his face but before he can protest any further, his lover is calling him from the inside of his room.

“Lee Donghyuck, come back to me. I haven’t come yet.”

You stare flatly at him, trying not to look as judgmental as possible but most likely failing terribly at it. “She sounds nice.”

He mirrors the look on your face. “Yeah well, she tastes nice.”

“Ugh, too much info there, buddy.”

“No, I mean, her blood, not—” You’re not sure whether vampires can blush but this one surely seems like one. “Why did you even come here again?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You remember. “This is totally cliche and I wish I could say a better excuse but I was making coffee and ran out of sugar. Do you have some I can borrow? And maybe some cream?”

“Seriously?” It’s supposed to be a sarcastic response, but when he sees you nodding your head, he adds, “Do I look like I drink coffee in my spare time?”

“You spend eternity without drinking coffee?” You gasp, laying a hand on your heart. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Leave. Please.”

***

On the next evening, you find yourself crossing the hallway and knocking on his apartment’s door again. Knowing how patience has never been one of your virtues, you try to turn his doorknob after your third knock. Like last night, it’s unlocked with a click so you invite yourself in, calling his name.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you here—”

“I really need to fix that stupid lock.” 

The sound of his voice startles you when he suddenly walks into view, but not as much as the sight of him with a white towel hanging around his neck, his wet hair dripping water to his bare chest, and another towel wrapped around his waist. 

He notices you’re staring so with a small smirk, he comments, “So you’re fine seeing me with human’s blood on my face but completely left in shocked when I’m half-naked?”

You put your best effort to act unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do know us vampires can tell when you’re lying, right? We can hear your heartbeat.”

“And yet, you didn’t hear me coming into your apartment last night.”

“I was…” He narrows his eyes. “Distracted.”

“You mean you were too horny to notice.”

“You—” He exhaled loudly, perhaps a habit he invented to make him seem more human. “Why are you here again today?”

“Can’t I greet my neighbor?”

He snorts loudly but walks away, throwing himself on the couch. “Seriously, why aren’t you surprised about this?”

“About you being a vampire? Or about your God awful taste in women?”

“Yeah?” He mocks back, making a face. “As if your boyfriend Mark Lee is any better.” When he sees a blush blooming on your face, he snickers. “Enlighten me, Sweetheart. How does it feel to have a lover that only last for one minute during—”

“Okay, I’ll take my words back. Everything. Can we move on, please?” You try to yank yourself back to your normal state, even when you feel downright ashamed. “So, this vampire thing. How long have you been a vampire?”

“Long enough.”

“How old were you when you first turned?”

“Young enough.”

“How often do you drink human blood?“

“Often enough.”

You glare at him, earning a sly grin in return. “You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”

He sends you the best serious expression he can manage. “Serious enough.”

“Right, okay, I’m leaving. Have fun being an asshole for eternity.”

But the second you turn around in your heels, Donghyuck is already on the other side of the room,  closing his front door and leaning his back against it. “Now, now, you come in as you please, uninvited. You don’t think I’ll let you go just like that, right?”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you want?”

“I think it’s something that we both want.” He steps closer, voice sounding smooth and alluring. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

You gulp, suddenly becoming nervous. He’s an arms reach away, and then closer, and closer until you can feel his cold fingers tracing against your cheekbone, lifting your face so his eyes are locked with yours. 

“I’m—” You can feel your breathing starts to stutter. “I’m not giving you my blood.”

“But it’s not blood that I want from you.” His eyes are half-lidded, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “I’ve been thinking about this so much lately.”

Your heart feels like a ticking bomb inside your chest. “A-about what?”

“About our rent. Do you want to move in together so we can split the rental fee?”

***

It’s both ridiculous and dumb, his offer to move in together for cheaper rent, so it’s even more ridiculous and dumb when you agree to it. There are several reasons that make sense, actually—at least, to you anyway: 1) your neighbor may be a vampire but he’s super hot and although that doesn’t make everything okay, it does make his offer sound incredibly tempting, 2) your landlord is going to raise the rent in the following two months, 3) your part-time job’s salary can only cover so much of your living cost and you have no savings whatsoever, 4) if you can ignore the fact that he brings random girls at night for midnight snacks, he becomes much, much hotter.

Of course, there are risks to think about as well. Sharing a place with another person can bring trouble, so you can only imagine how troublesome would it be to share your home with a vampire. What if he gets too thirsty and starts drinking from you instead? 

You gulp. The thought of it is actually kind of… sexy.

Mark. You mentally slap yourself in the head. You have a boyfriend. Stop crushing on your damn neighbor.

Well, there is nothing serious going on with Mark actually. You guys were just lab partners in high school, went on a couple of dates, had a terribly awkward first kiss, had a heavy make-out session with him ejaculating under one minute when you dry-humped him on the couch of your living room. 

So yeah, nothing serious.

“My apartment or yours?” You ask after a week has passed by, the second he opens his door for you. “Your apartment is bigger, but mine is cleaner.”

“Whatever you want, Sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t mind as long we can split the fee.”

“Yeah, why is that? You’re running out of money?”

His smirk instantly falters. “Well, it’s not exactly easy for vampires to get a job these days.”

“You literally have superhuman skills.”

“Well, you guys have the technology!” He throws his hands in the air, absolutely disgusted with the word by the sight of it. “And the Internet! Sure, I can run pretty fast, I have super hearing, I can see in the dark but these fucking technologies can do literally everything I’m capable of—and everything I’m not capable of—with only a few clicks!”

“Do you need a hug?”

He’s still pouting but shrugs. “Can’t hurt.”

“There, there.” You give him a pat on his back as he leans down so you can reach his height. “I’ll teach you some basic stuff to get you updated.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll get through this.” You pull away, squeezing his shoulders. “So, about moving in together. Shall we talk about house rules and stuff?”

“Sure, but before that,” he smiles, opening his door wider for you. “Come in. I don’t bite.”

It’s something about him using that poor choice of words with that teasing smirk on his face that makes your stomach feel uneasy but you nod and let yourself in. As he closes the door, he adds, “Unless it’s what you’re into.”

“Getting my blood drunk by a vampire?” You scoff, trying to steady your racing heart though he can probably tell already. “Why would it be something I’m into?”

“Well, my ladies surely enjoyed it,” he chuckles and you secretly think to yourself, yeah because you’re fucking hot, that’s why, but you keep yourself ignorant on the outside. “But if you’re ever curious,” he coos, eyes nearly glowing as he pushes his bangs back with one hand, “I’m down anytime you want.”

You shudder, but from disgust or excitement, you’re not sure. “Thanks, but no thanks. So, house rules?”

***

It turns out to be shockingly easy to share an apartment with an undead creature of the night. Your source of information regarding vampires are from the collection of your young adult supernatural novels, ranging from something serious like Interview with The Vampire, to something mediocre like The Vampire Diaries, and something absolutely ridiculous and downright outrageous like Twilight. So it’s not really surprising when your first assumption of vampires are dead people who look unusually pale but strikingly attractive, have constant frowns on their faces as they brood over literally everything that’s happening as if they’re constipated all the time (they’re not, since vampires don’t have that bodily function anymore) and kill people in their spare time by sucking their blood dry.

But Donghyuck isn’t like that at all, to the point you have to convince yourself that he’s a century-old vampire and not a brat going through puberty.

Because Donghyuck isn’t pale, his skin is tan as if he was kissed by the sun when he has been hiding from it his whole life. It’s smooth, unscarred, and almost golden under the fluorescent light of your apartment. 

He’s not heartless either. He cried during watching Hachiko even when the dog owner was still alive and well, shouting, “Bad shit is going to happen. Bad shit is going to happen to the dog—look how cute that dog is—look just how fucking cute he is—he doesn’t deserve any pain—if this dog dies by the end of the movie, I will combust,” to the screen. So the thought of him killing someone by sucking their blood dry? Seems very unlikely.

And he’s not broody or angry all the time. He’s extremely playful and annoyingly mischievous. He keeps his stock of blood in empty bottles of red wine and places them inside the fridge with a handwritten note that says: “It’s really just wine, Sweetheart. I bought some as a housewarming gift. Come take a sip.” You did, once, out of curiosity, and from that day on you promised yourself that you’d never ever trust his words for as long as you live.

Being a monster, he should’ve been the cause of fear, but in reality, he gets scared from a lot of things—even the things that shouldn’t scare a baby. You will never forget the day when a loud crash came thundering from his room, two seconds before he came barging into yours, screaming with wide eyes, “THERE’S A COCKROACH FLYING IN MY ROOM!”

“And what did you do?”

“I THREW THE TV AT IT BUT THAT FUCKING THING STILL LIVES!”

“WHAT?! But that’s our TV!”

“IT WAS FLYING TO MY FACE AND I PANICKED—WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

Even a butterfly that sneaks in from the window makes him jump on his feet. It was cute the first two times it happened, but seeing how he keeps on throwing random things—your phone, included—to keep the bugs away, you probably should start adding another house rule.

Speaking about rules, they’re pretty basic. It’s settled that you’ll both do your cleaning separately. No borrowing things without permission, no spending too much time in the bathroom because although he doesn’t need to go to the toilet, Donghyuck enjoys drawing himself a warm bubble bath for hours, as he takes a sip of his ‘red wine’. And you’re fine with him bringing girls over to your place as long as he does his midnight snacking in his own room. You were against it before but then you figure that you’re going to have Mark in your room from time-to-time (your date night is cheaper this way) so you really don’t have the right to forbid him.

But man, if only you could take back your words.

Because when Donghyuck said his ladies surely enjoyed it when he drank from them, you didn’t think that they would enjoy it this much. And you didn’t think that drinking blood from a human equals having sex with them all night long.

The sound of “Aah, yes fuck me just like that,” and “Bite me again, Lee Donghyuck, I want you to bite me as hard as you fuck me,” can be heard coming endlessly from his bedroom whenever he brings a girl—sometimes even two, for God’s sake—over. You have to plug your AirPods into your ears, blast the volume to the maximum until you can literally feel your ears going deaf while pulling a pillow over your head. And even then you still can hear them. Your apartment has excellent sound-proofed walls so your neighbors don’t really hear the loud screeches they’re making, but for you who sleeps in the room just across the living room? A living hell.

Fortunately, it doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t happen every week, even, since he always keeps some stocks of blood in the fridge.

“Did you take this blood from those girls?” You grimaced one night, as you opened your refrigerator to slide in your pudding leftover and noticed three huge bottles of red wine completely filled up to the brim.

He laughed, waving a hand. “Of course not, stupid. How could I even do that in the first place? I bought some blood bags from the hospital, obviously.” He was sitting on the couch before but when he delivered his next line, he suddenly stood behind you, lips hovering dangerously close to your ear. “And just in case you’re wondering,” you could feel his smirk grazing your earlobe. “I only drink directly when I want to have sex.”

The heat was spreading almost immediately to your cheeks so you hid it by throwing a punch to his stomach, which he easily dodged. “Still,” you complained, “There’s blood in my fridge.”

“Hey, I never complain when you keep your celery juice in there.” He scrunched his nose in disgust. “I don’t eat or drink human foods, but who the fuck drinks celery juice?”

***

Donghyuck is also exceptionally talkative, you’ve learned along the way. It’s nice to have someone to fill the silence, moving from one random topic to another, never letting an awkward pause hang for too long. But he can also be exceptionally annoying when you have some papers to do and he’s bothering you because he’s bored out of his mind. He’ll start pestering you with questions—unimportant questions—like, “If you only have one eye, are you blinking or winking?” Or “Why is it that when you are sleeping it's called drool but when you are awake it's called spit?” And the stupidest of them all, “Why did Superman wear his briefs on the outside of his tights? This question intrigues me.”

And you’ll eventually start to lose it, throw a pillow to his face and yell, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

But by the end of the day, it’s really fun to have him around. Not just because you can secretly enjoy the sight of him coming out of your shared bathroom with only a towel hanging low around his hips, but also because he’s a vampire and you can spend your time doing actual research about it.

“So,” you began one day after the sun has set and he crawled out of his room with the biggest bird's nest on his head. You had a romance novel on your lap, your fingers running through the pages. “Are you like an actual vampire or are you the romanticized, somewhat gay vampire they usually depict in books?”

“Well, I’ve never been with a man but I don’t really oppose the idea.” He took a seat beside you on the couch, laying his feet on the coffee table. You kind of just stare at him, not exactly judging his words, just… bewildered. 

He noticed the look on your face. “When you’ve lived for a century, you gotta learn how to keep things interesting, even if that means having a dick in my mouth.”

“That’s…” You swallowed. “Not exactly something I want to imagine.”

“You should, though. Try picturing me with your boyfriend Mark for a sec. Don’t we look hot together?” You had to look away when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You just had to.

“So, these vampire books you said you read,” he went back to the previous topic after cackling for a whole ten seconds at the flustered look on your face. “How do they depict us exactly?”

“You’ve never read one?”

“Have you ever read any books about humans written by vampires?”

“Fair point. Well, it said that vampires couldn’t see themselves in the mirror.”

“Myth,” he replied, leaning his head against the couch. “I can see myself in the mirror and I like seeing myself just as much as you do whenever I come out of the bathroom.”

You almost blurt out the cinnamon cookie you just ate. “Excuse me?!” You cough, eyes starting to get a little teary. “Who said I like looking at you?”

“You don’t?” The way his eyes twinkled made you a little bit weak. A smirk grew apparent on his face. “You sure about that?”

You cleared your throat, flipping another page of your book. “Next question,” you continued, ignoring the soft laugh he emitted. “Do garlic, holy water, and silver scare you?”

“They don’t scare me,” he clicked his tongue, vexed by the way you composed your words. “I just don’t like them.”

“Right, so that’s a yes. Do you have to be invited in to be able to enter someone’s home?”

He tightened his jaw, quietly murmured, “Yes.”

“Can you read someone’s thoughts?”

“No, but I can tell how they’re feeling through their heartbeat.” His eyes were boring into yours, lips curving upward. “Like you, for example. I can tell that whenever I’m around you, your heartbeat runs just a little bit faster.”

You glanced away, rubbing your nose. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Ah,” he showcased his perfect marbled teeth as he grinned knowingly. “Just like that. Your heartbeat is increasing again. Are you lying to me, milady?”

“You’re freaking annoying, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Speaking of that,” you immediately said, knowing it was the perfect chance to avert his attention to another topic. “Can you charm someone?”

“With these looks?” He gestured to his entire body. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” But when you started scowling at him, he added, “But if you’re talking about mind compulsion, yes, I am able to do that. I can erase and alter people’s memories, even controlling them only by making eye contact.”

“That sounds pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like doing it.” He shrugged, staring at the ceiling with droopy eyes. “Hypnotizing them to get what I want just doesn’t sit right with me. I want to feel a connection, you know?”

“So doing one night stands with vampire groupies is the perfect way to earn that connection, I suppose?”

He tilted his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “You really know how to attack someone’s pride, huh?”

“Part of my charm,” you mimic him with a nod. “Okay, next question. Can you die with a wooden stake piercing your heart?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everybody dies with a stake in—what is this, an interrogation?”

“Do churches—”

“Okay, Sweetheart.” He closed your book, smiling at you though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think that’s enough. My turn.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, not really pleased with the way he just suddenly changed the direction of your conversation. “What do you want to know?” You indulged him anyway.

He tilted his head, propping his elbow on his thigh, fingers tapping against his cheek as he rested his chin on his palm. Gazing at you intensely, he asked, “Are you a virgin?”

It didn’t take even a split second for you to blush. “T-that’s—What kind of question is that—”

“Ah, so you are.” His smile grew a bit larger, but you weren’t sure whether he was amused, aroused, or just excited to mock you about it. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me a lot lately? Because you’re curious?”

“For the last time,” you emphasized, though your heart was hammering against your ribcages. “I wasn’t looking at you. I never—”

“You’re adorable when you lie,” he snickered, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Your heartbeat sounds like you just did a marathon. Are you okay?”

You threw your book at him, successfully wiping the smirk on his goddamn perfect face, and raced back to your own room.

“Ah, she’s really cute.” Was the last thing you heard him say before you slammed your bedroom door behind you.

***

For a vampire, Donghyuck’s presence is as bright as the sun, always managing to lift your mood whenever you’re too stressed about your college assignments or too exhausted from your part-time job. Of course, he’s also the cause of your stress more often than not, but whenever you get into a fight with him—usually because he’s so disorganized and you’re too obsessive to keep everything in order—it doesn’t last long and ends up with him making you the best dinner you’ve ever had to compensate, even when he’s not the one at fault.

Donghyuck doesn’t consume human food but he makes the best cuisine you’ve ever tasted in your life. And also the sight of him wearing your pink apron while humming to a Michael Jackson’s song with his bangs tied to the side using your hairclip is really, really something to behold—which is weird because that obviously doesn’t scream sexy in any way, or masculine even, but it makes your stomach do somersaults most delightfully.

“Dinner is served, Milady,” he says, laying down a plate of Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in front of you, making you gawk at the sight. “And it’s special because it contains a lot of garlic—seriously, like a lot. I had to put some gloves on and everything.”

“You’re an angel.” You nearly cry and it’s not an exaggeration. “I can’t believe you did this all for me.”

“Well, I haven’t really thanked you for covering my rent last month so…”

“It’s fine, you can pay me back later.” You take a hold of your fork, already wetting your lips in anticipation, and waste not a second longer before you dig in. When the cheese melts inside your mouth, you almost moan in joy. “Oh my God, this is so good. I love you.”

He chuckles, suddenly standing behind you, leaning forward so he’s next to your ear. “Yeah? How much?”

You raise your silver spoon in the air and he immediately leaps to the other side of the kitchen, startled and scared out of his mind. “Hey, that’s not nice! I thought we’ve talked about this!”

Rolling your eyes at him, you take another spoonful of it. “Man, you should really make a job out of this,” you comment. He only cooks whenever he feels sorry for you for going through a hard day—whether it was because of him or something else—but if that’s what it takes to have this magnificent dish entering your mouth, you don’t mind suffering more often.

“I really should, huh?” He takes a seat on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling a few inches in the air. “I’m really running low on money.”

“I thought vampires were supposed to be rich and like, noble.”

“You’re confusing us with Aristocrats.” He grieves. “Do you think I can get a night shift at a restaurant downtown?”

“Oh, I actually know a place. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

“Like on a date?”

You almost drop your fork. “Why do you have to make everything weird?”

His cheeky grin is contagious but you’ve become a master of handling your expression. “I just like seeing you blush,” he confesses. “Have I told you how cute you are?”

“Today? Not yet,” you mutter as you munch on your food. “Yesterday? Approximately two hundred and thirty-five times.”

“Then I’ll try to break another record today.” He throws you a wink.

“Shut up and let me eat in peace, please.”

***

“Donghyuck-ah.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop posting a goddamn selfie every ten minutes!” You almost throw your phone to his face but since it’ll be a waste, you decide to throw your shoe instead. “I didn’t teach you how to use Instagram for this!”

Donghyuck easily dodges every single thing you’re throwing at him. “Didn’t you tell me to promote my cooking skill? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“How does this—” You show your phone’s screen to him, almost smacking him on the face with how fast and hard you’re doing it. You slide your thumb over his Instagram feeds, showing more than fifty different pictures of his close-up face and he just made that account two days ago. “—promote your cooking skill?!” 

“But, look,” he guides you, clasping his hand to yours so you’re both holding your phone. He taps from one picture to another. “This is me holding a spatula. This is me boiling water and this is me pouring barbecue sauce—”

“Oh my God.” You almost yank every hair out of your head—or out of his head. “I follow more than four hundred people and all I can see is your damn selfies!”

“Correction, my damn cute selfies.” He pecks your cheek. “You’re welcome, babe.”

But all jokes aside, it actually works. His adorable selfies—no matter how bad you hate to admit it—are attracting more followers each day that by the time a week has passed by, he has gained more followers than you (and you’ve had your account for three years, shame on you).

And on the following two months, he gets his first endorsement deal.

“I can’t believe this,” you say, gaping as you stare over his shoulder to look at his phone’s screen, shamelessly reading his direct messages. He’s getting an offer to become a brand ambassador for this little bakery with a cover photo of a lady with chubby cheeks baking cupcakes. “I can’t believe there are people crazy enough to hire you.”

“Hey, privacy!” He immediately stands up from the couch, covering his screen with his palm. “I could’ve been sending nudes!”

“You’re sending nudes?”

“Well, not my nudes.” He rolls his eyes.

“How is that any better?!”

“Look, I’m busy. I got a gig.” He grins proudly. “I’m on my way to becoming a celebrity, babe. Do you want my autograph now before it’s too late? I could sign your bra if you want. I mean, I’m totally down if you want me to sign your tits, but if you ever think that could be awkward—”

You smack his head with a spatula.

***

It’s your first date night after nearly half a year of not contacting Mark due to him going overseas for student exchange, and you’re nervous for various reasons.

First, you haven’t told Mark you’ve been sharing a place with a guy.

Second, you certainly haven’t told him that this guy is a vampire.

Third, you absolutely in any way cannot tell him that you’ve been secretly crushing on this guy while your boyfriend was away studying.

And last but not least, you know that if anything happens tonight, whether it ends up with you fighting with Mark or finally losing your virginity to him, Donghyuck can hear every single thing.

So you barge into his room, hand laying on the front of his bedroom door as you push it open. “Donghyuck-ah.”

Like always, he’s laying idly on his bed, head almost dangling on the edge of it with his phone in his hands. “Yes, baby?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “How many times should I tell you? Don’t call me that.”

“You’re not my baby anymore?” He fakes a loud gasp. “I am shocked.”

“Mark is coming over tonight.”

His movements stop abruptly. “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s been nothing but sweet to me.”

His eyes lose the mischievous spark he usually displays in them. “And yet, you keep drooling over my body. Can’t say I’m not hurt.”

“I never—” You exhale loudly, throwing your head back. “I’m not going to have this argument again. He’s coming over tonight to have dinner—”

“But you’re a shitty cook.”

“By dinner, I mean take-outs,” you admit your defeat. “Anyway, I came here to ask you a favor.”

“Sweetheart,” he calls, turning over to his stomach so he can face you without having to see you upside down. “I know I said I wanted to make things interesting, but having a threesome with you and Mark? So suddenly like this? Don’t you think it’s gonna be a little awkward between us? I barely know the dude. You should at least tell me what kind of person he is, whether he likes action movies or romantic ones, whether he blames someone else when he farts—I need to know him before I have his dick in my mouth.”

Talking to him gives you headaches, you should’ve really come prepared. “Are you done?”

“Do you still want me to continue? Okay, well—”

“Shut up, please for the love of God, shut up.” You should take your leave before he starts yapping again. “Look, that super hearing thing you do? Can you turn it off just for one night?”

“Sure thing, click,” he says, snapping his fingers near his ear. “Done. Now I’m deaf.”

You flatly stare at him. “I’m serious.”

“Whaaaaat? I can’t heaaaaar youuuu.”

“Hyuck!” 

He groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “Well, it’s not like my ears have on-and-off buttons I can just switch, okay? What do you want from me?”

He’s right, there’s nothing you can do. “Then, can you leave the apartment for the night?”

He opens his mouth wide, hand going to his chest. “You’re kicking me out from my own apartment? This is heresy!”

“Donghyuck-ah, please!” Great, now you’re stomping your feet like a child. “I just really need some privacy for tonight.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get laid, aren’t you?” He raves mockingly, but his eyes are somewhat bitter. “Seriously? With that guy? I think you could do so much better, Sweetheart.”

Vexed, you jeer back, “Yeah? And who do you have in mind? You?”

You’re not sure whether it’s your words or the way you say them because his eyes suddenly turn darker, almost glowering at you but it only happens for a second or two so you’re not sure if you even see that clearly.

“Well, it’s not my business, is it?” He casually chirps, smiling at you again though something still feels off. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop on you two. I have a lot of kinks but voyeurism isn’t one of those. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“You…” Something feels really off with the way he’s acting. It’s like he’s visibly upset but trying to act nonchalant about it. “You’re sure?”

“You have my words.”

“Okay then.” Whatever it is, you figure you can deal with that later. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower.”

As you shut the door behind you, uneasiness starts to fill your chest.

***

Your date with Mark is going well. It’s going so well, even, that you end up lying on your bed, perfectly naked,  lips swollen from his kisses, with him hovering on top of you, both breathless and speechless.

And unfortunately for you, also clueless.

He has a packet of condoms in his hand, and no matter how embarrassing it is for you, you already have your legs spread on the bed, waiting for him to… well, do whatever it is he’s supposed to do. Perhaps it’s okay for you to be clueless about sex because guys usually take the lead, right?

Wrong.

“Okay, wait, let me just—” Mark’s fingers are shaking due to anxiety. His poor, innocent mind cannot handle being so painfully turned-on and awkwardly embarrassed at the same time. Your boyfriend has always been awkward with literally everything, which kind of makes him adorable but it does not come as cute—not in the slightest—when he’s doing the exact opposite of what’s he’s supposed to do. Somewhere deep in his mind, he probably knows that he’s supposed to tear apart the packet sexily with his teeth,  put the condom on within seconds, and thrust into you as painlessly as possible. But in reality, what’s currently happening is he tries to catch the condom that flew out in the air after he managed to tear the packet apart with his shaky fingers. He then progresses to try putting on the condom for approximately fifteen minutes while flinching several times when he accidentally slaps the elastic band against his cock.

The whole thing is a fucking disaster (no pun intended) and all the passion, desire, and arousal that you once felt swirling in your stomach vanish in an instant. And when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, it does, because being a virgin himself, Mark doesn’t really know where to, for the lack of better words, put it in.

“Mark?”

“Y-yeah?”

“That’s my asshole.”

So with a reassuring (fake) smile, you lay a hand on his chest and gently push him backward, trying not to wince in chagrin when you suggest, “Maybe we should stop and try again some other time?”

You two dress back into your clothes in silence and after you escort him to your front door, Mark tries to kiss you at the same time you’re leaning in for a friendly hug so it ends up with him knocking his teeth against your forehead.

When he’s gone, you close the front door with a sigh, pressing your spine against the wooden surface as you soothe the pain on your temple away with your fingertips. It doesn’t take long before Donghyuck peeks his head from behind his door. Noticing you’re alone, he steps into the living room, leaning against the wall just a couple of meters away from where you’re standing. 

“So,” he begins, acting casual, “How was the date with—” He suddenly bursts out laughing, one hand holding his stomach as he nearly tumbles down to the floor, cackling like a mad man. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped but man, did he really put it in the wrong hole? Oh God, this shit is just beyond me, man.”

With your shoulders slumped forward, you walk back into your room, trying to gather back the pieces of dignity you have left.

***

“You know what I should do?” Donghyuck asks with a game controller in his hand. To stop him from making fun of you and your terrible incident with your boyfriend, you’ve borrowed a PlayStation from your cousin. Even though he claimed that he despised technology, Donghyuck is actually brilliant when he puts his mind to it. It doesn’t take more than two hours for him to master the game, already adapting to every button of the controller, even manages to land a few high scores in the last ten minutes. He used to prefer to live in the old school way, but that soon changed after your influence.

“Pray to God for forgiveness so He won’t send you to hell?” You offer, as you take a seat next to him on the carpeted floor, crossing your legs, eyes staring idly at the screen. 

“Cute, but no.” He clicks some buttons aggressively, trying to reach yet another high score. “I should become a historian. I mean, I’ve seen things happened with my own eyes—the first world war, the second world war, the birth of Jesus.” He sneaks a glance, but seeing no reaction coming from you, he juts out his lower lip in disappointment. “It’s cruel that you don’t indulge me with my jokes these days.”

“Oh, so you want me to respond? I thought you just liked hearing yourself talk.”

“Heeeeeey,” he hisses, leering at you. “I know you’re hurt that your boyfriend tried to butt-fuck you but don’t throw this all on me.”

Oh my God. “Right, then let’s try this.” You have no choice but to please him this way before he destroys whatever is left of your pride. You do a quick search on your phone, throwing a random question from what you found in the article. “Who led our country in 1950?”

“Easy. The guy with the bald head. No, wait, is it the skinny one with the huge mole on his neck?”

“Name, Hyuck. I need a name.” You exhale in exasperation.

“Oh, I got it! The one with the annoying high-pitched voice!”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to remember shits that happened seventy years ago?”

You give him a look, eyes staring at him lifelessly. “You’re right, you should totally apply for the job. You’ll nail it.”

***

“I can’t believe this.”

“Saying that multiple times won’t really change anything, Sweetheart.”

“I can’t believe this,” you repeat, this time while standing up from the couch, slamming your fashion magazine down to the table. “I can’t believe our air conditioner broke when it’s nearly thirty degrees outside! Aren’t you hot?!”

“Am I hot—” He snorts, flipping a page of his novel.  Yes, it is actually quite bizarre that he spends his spare time reading. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m hot. Haven’t you seen the number of girls I brought into this place?”

“Ugh, God!” You plop back into your seat, throwing your head back in vexation. “What are you even reading?”

“That vampire book you talked about yesterday.”

“Which one?”

“The one that’s interesting.”

“Oh, Interview with The Vampire?”

“No.” The way he rolls his eyes as if he’s disgusted with your guess is beyond you. “Twilight.”

“Oh my God, stay away from me.”

“What—this is actually good!”

“These vampires sparkle under the sun—aren’t you, at the very least, offended? Because I’m livid and I’m human.”

“That’s what makes it interesting, actually,” he retorts, eyes moving back-and-forth as he reads through a passage. “They’re so different than us in real life, so it’s like seeing through a new perspective. I’m Team Jacob, by the way.”

“Good Lord.” You palm the side of your face. “You’re more than a hundred years-old but you have the taste of a teenage girl going through puberty. I’m ashamed of knowing you.”

“You’re just cranky because of the weather.”

“I’m literally dying.” You can feel sweat drenching your back, all the way to your shirt and you just took a shower twenty minutes ago. “You’re lucky you’re immune to temperature changes.”

“Then wanna sit on my lap?”

Your ears must be playing tricks on you. “Excuse me?”

Donghyuck sighs, closing his book and throws it away to the side. Turning to you, he repeats slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Do. you. want. to. sit. on. my. lap?”

You send him a blank stare, annoyed. “I heard you, asshole. I’m not an idiot. I’m just shocked at your offer. You’re really going all out in harassing me these days, aren’t you?”

“What—” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’m a vampire, remember? I have cold skin. Here,” he takes one of your hands, sliding it down his shirt as if it’s nothing, and presses it against his stomach. “Can you feel it?”

All the blood rushes to your face, making you feel lightheaded but also conscious of how his skin feels under your palm. It is cold, though not as cold as he’d made a big deal out of it. It’s like the room temperature during the spring season, at most. But compared to how sizzling it is right now, his skin is nice to the touch, relaxing even. 

But all that thought just goes straight out of the window when he shifts on his seat and you can feel his abs muscles contracting.

“Whoa,” he stops, looking at you. “Are you okay? Your heartbeat is insane.”

You smack him on the head and try to suffocate him with your cushion. It doesn’t work since he doesn’t breathe, but at least it can stop him from seeing how red your face is turning.

But when another day passes by and your landlord is still taking his sweet time trying to find a cheap handyman to repair your AC, you decide to take on his offer. You know it’s weird for roommates to cuddle but, as you try to reason within yourself, you will be sitting on the-sexiest-man-you’ve-ever-witnessed-with-your-eyes’ lap, your back pressing against his (hopefully) bare chest, and snuggle close until your body heat is no longer screaming at you in agony. You don’t really see any problem with this. After all, you have been imagining how it would feel to sit on his lap every time he does that manspreading thing on your couch. 

So really, what’s there to lose?

“Okay,” you begin, standing in front of him in an already awkward position. “So, how can we do this without being weird about it?”

Donghyuck tilts his face up, leaning his back against the couch, phone in his hand. “Do what?”

“Do…” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “You know, what you offered yesterday.”

“Hmm?” He raises his eyebrow in question, but the way one side of his lips is curving upward betrays his act. “I forgot. What exactly did I offer to do?”

“You’re seriously going to make me say this out loud?”

“Baby, I’m clueless.” His smirk grows wider, his voice filled with allure. “Please. Enlighten me.”

He’s toying with you, that’s for sure. And no matter how much you want to feel those arms around you, there’s no way you’re gonna let him degrade you like this. “Fine, then forget it,” you sulk, turning around on your heels with your scarlet cheeks puffed out but Donghyuck laughs in the most innocent way when he’s clearly nothing like that in reality. Calling your name in a sing-song voice, he circles his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back until you tumble down to his lap.

“You’re never honest,” he says, his velvety voice suddenly only a whisper away. His arms are tied securely around your waist, pulling you close until you can do nothing but lay your back against his chest. “But you’re cute so I forgive you.”

You can’t form a word, too busy trying to compose yourself. You can’t hear his heartbeat—since he’s the creature of the undead, obviously—but you assume with the proximity you’re being, you would’ve definitely heard it if he had one.

You didn’t notice it before but now that you’re sitting on his lap, your palm pressed against his thigh for stability you realize that he’s wearing black ripped jeans with holes that are oh so terribly distracting. If you dare to move your finger, you’ll be able to trace the smooth skin at the inner part of his thigh.

You gulp hard.

You can hear him snickering behind you. “Thinking about something dirty?”

You almost swallowed your own tongue. “What—no!” Flapping your hands in panic, you almost fall from his lap but his fast reflex won’t let you, as he embraces you tighter, making you fall back to his chest with a small oof.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he chuckles lowly, his lips grazing against your earlobe. “This is nice. We should do this more often. You fit perfectly in my arms.” He says his line with sincerity with no trace of humor or teasing in it, which effectively make you curl your toes in bashfulness.

“You’re gonna have a heart attack if you keep your heart rate going like that, Sweetheart,” he titters.

“Yeah, well,” you try to push him away by pushing your palm against his cheek. “Unlike you, I don’t really spend my time snuggling with the opposite sex, so of course I’m nervous.”

“You’re sure it’s not because of me?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’d most likely have a bigger reaction if Mark was the one holding me instead.”

The way he suddenly goes stiff intrigues you, but you don’t dwell on it. “Is that so?” He simply retorts back, tone suddenly becoming cold and it makes you feel uneasy.

“So, uhh…” Your breathing tatters when he becomes mute, only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall can be heard. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He only hums, placing his chin on top of your head. Since he’s always so talkative, it gets really tense when he’s quiet. “Did I offend you or something?” You question.

“I don’t know, did you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

“Then let’s just leave it at that.” Seeing how you keep fumbling with the remote in your hand, he snatches it away and proceeds to switch the channels. “We’re watching Twilight.”

“Nooooooo, not again!”

But his arm, as he raises it high in the air, is longer than yours so you can’t steal back the remote no matter how hard you try. And as you jump up and down, shifting back and forth on his lap, Donghyuck warns, “I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose, but if you keep doing that, I’m gonna get a hard-on.”

You immediately stay still, hands tucked neatly on your lap, chest thundering. “You—Why—” You shake your head, flushed. “How can you say things like that?”

“Things like what?”

“Sexual things like that.” The more you reveal your thoughts, the harder you blush. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“What, I can’t be honest?” He snorts. “I didn’t mean to harass you or anything. Just letting you know in advance. It’s completely a guy thing.”

“No, it’s not just that. You always flirt with me—calling me baby, telling me how I look cute all the time when you don’t even mean it—“

You’re interrupted with a loud sigh accompanied by an impatient groan. “Turn around, look at me,” he orders and his tone is irrefutable. When you turn slightly, making eye contact, Donghyuck has his eyebrows furrowed, almost glaring at you. “I know you’re gullible, and I know you’re dense when it comes to things like this but I swear to God, if you don’t start taking a hint, I’m going to have to push you against the wall and kiss you to prove my point.”

You’re dizzy and nauseous, and your stomach is flipping like crazy and you’re conflicted between believing him or laughing at him because although he looks dead serious right now, you can’t help but wonder what if, after you give in to your feelings, he sends you that signature cheeky grin of his to reveal he’s just joking all along? You’re not even brave enough to imagine, even when the vivid image of him pushing you against the wall, his knee slipping between your legs while he brings your wrists over your head, holding them still with one hand is enough to keep you awake for hours.

So you decide to take the easy path. “Okay.”

He blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You shrug, acting casual. It’s really a miracle that you don’t stutter when you deliver the next line. “You told me to take a hint, that’s what I’m doing.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, confused. “Just like that? You’re not gonna say anything more? Or do anything about it?”

“Nope.”

Slowly, there’s a shift in his expression. He shakes his head, tongue protruding against the inside of his cheek both irked and amused. “You’re really something.”

Surprisingly enough, he leaves it at that. Though it’s somehow uncomfortable, you follow his lead and just lock your eyes to your tv screen as he chooses his movie.

You have no interest in watching Twilight—absolutely nothing, zilch, zip, nada!—so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your eyelids start to become heavy in the first thirteen minutes of the show. You would’ve fallen asleep way sooner though, if you weren’t too distracted with the way he laid his hand on your thigh, sometimes unconsciously rubbing or squeezing it with his palm when he got a little bit bored with the scene, making your breath hitched in your throat.

The room’s temperature is still hot even when it’s in the middle of the night, successfully making your bangs stick to your temple but Donghyuck is quietly humming something to himself. Soft, melodious sound is resonating from his chest directly to your ear and you begin to drift away, floating into your dreamland.

***

“Hey, wake up. It’s almost morning.”

Your bleary eyes are greeted with the dim light of the room. The TV in front of you has already been switched off so the only thing that can be heard in your apartment is the buzzing sound coming from your fridge and the faint ticking clock. 

“What time is it?” You rub your eyes, not aware that you’re still sitting on his lap, with your spine leaning against his chest. It’s until you feel his arms loosening around your waist that you begin to think, oh fuck, what have I done?

You immediately jump off his lap, tripping over your feet but manage to hold your balance by placing a hand on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you wake me?” You screech, face aflame. “You kept holding me in that position all night?”

“Yeah.” He stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck. “I wanted to wait until you wake up by yourself, but you know, the sun is about to rise.”

You’re still pretty much flabbergasted by the whole thing. “You really should’ve woken me up.”

“Well, you seemed like you were having the best sleep you’ve ever had.” He stares at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “Was it that good being in my arms?”

You’re about to explode. “Okay, wow, look what time it is.” You try to look at your wrist and mentally slap yourself harder when you realize you’re not wearing a goddamn watch. “A-anyway, you really should go back to your room before it’s too late.”

He shakes his head, chuckling at your stupid antics as he stands up from the couch. He ruffles your hair once, making a mess out of your strands before he heads back to his room. As he slides open his door, he spares you a glance over his shoulder. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You kept calling my name in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?”

Whether it’s true or he’s just flirting with you to get your reaction, you don’t want to know. “Just go to your room!”

***

A few moments after the sun sinks below the horizon, Donghyuck comes out from his room with bleary eyes and his shoulders slumped forward. 

“Good morning, Princess,” you joke, your hands busy mixing coffee powder, sugar, and milk to make your own version of Dalgona coffee. Donghyuck scratches the back of his head, his eyes are barely open as he heads to the kitchen, not even sparing you a glance. When he opens the fridge, he groans loudly, noticing that he forgot to restock his red wine. He slams the door with a loud huff, drags his body to the dining table, and sits down with his cheek pressed against the table. Seeing how you’re not paying him any attention, he groans again, louder and whinier this time.

“Okay, what?” You ask, leaning your back against the counter, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“I’m thirsty,” he grumbles, jutting out his lower lip.

“Then drink.”

“I don’t have any money to buy even a bag of blood. Why do they have to make it so fucking expensive?” He pouts. “I mean, I can always steal one but I’m scared of being caught.”

“Scared of being caught? You, with your superhuman speed and strength?”

“Well, they have those security cameras installed all over the place! I don’t want to get arrested or worse, go viral!” You resist the temptation to roll your eyes at his nonsense. “These fucking technologies, man, I swear to God, they’ll be the death of me someday.”

“Then just go outside. Our town is filled with walking blood bags.”

He groans again, now pressing his forehead against the table. “Man, the effort I have to make just to survive. I’m so done with drinking blood from slutty girls. They’re bitter.” He sticks out his tongue at the memory.

“Yeah, why is that? Why do you only drink from them?”

“Because they’re the only ones who’ll agree in a heartbeat.” His voice is muffled as his lips are brushing against the surface. “Also the sex isn’t too bad if you can ignore how annoyingly loud they are.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” You grimace at the flashback. It really has been a while since he brought one of them back to his room and you were ecstatic about it, knowing you were the only girl he had been giving his attention to. “Why don’t you just compel someone to give their blood? You can erase their memories too after you’re done.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t like doing that. It makes me feel like a monster.”

It’s cute, you suppose, the way he tries his best to defy his nature. “Then…” You tap your fingers against the mug, somehow feeling uneasy. “Why don’t you try being in a relationship with someone? I’m sure they’ll be willing to give you their blood if they like you that way.”

“Yeah? With who?”

“I don’t know, like…” Your cheeks grow hot, bringing your face down to hide your eyes behind your bangs. “Maybe just someone you like.”

“Are you volunteering?”

The way he suddenly has you backed against the counter, trapping you inside his arms, and whispers seductively with his lips almost grazing your own make you jump on your feet, your cup slipping off your fingers, crashing to pieces when it hits the marbled floor.

“Careful!” Donghyuck holds you by the waist, stopping you just a split second away from stepping on the broken glasses. You realize your hands are fisting against the back of his shirt, embracing him for support without knowing. You pull away immediately, clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, letting you go. “I mean I did, but not like this.”

You sigh. “It’s okay, just step away. I need to clean this up.” He tries to help but you won’t let him, because having him in such proximity is going to blind your senses, unable to function properly. Even just thinking about the way his strong arm fits the curve of your waist already makes you lose focus that you end up cutting your finger with a shard of glass.

He catches the little surprised yelp that escapes your lips and immediately bends down to check on you. “See, this is why I told you to let me clean up instead,” he complains, carrying you to the sink and drenches your finger with running water. “Let me see.” With a hold around your wrist, you can barely do anything but to let him examine your cut thoroughly. “Well, it’s not deep but it’s… still…” 

Noticing how he trails off, you look up to check on his face seeing how his eyes are now glowing a bit brighter, his lips parted as if in awe from the way droplets of blood seep from your fingertip, trickling all the way down to your palm.

“Hyuck…?”

His eyes are drifting back and forth from your face to your cut and you know where this is going but when he brings your palm closer to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the blood off your skin, you nearly collapse to the floor. 

“Hyuck—” You hiss, cheeks reddening as you try to retract your hand but his hold is firm on your wrist. He licks his way up before he brings your fingertip inside his mouth. Donghyuck has his eyes closed, a moan almost falls from his lip when the coppery taste taints his tongue. He sucks on the wound, wanting to taste more, to rip your skin apart with his teeth and—

“Hyuck!” 

He blinks awake, shocked when he sees your face painted with fear. His fangs are drawn out but he immediately retracts them back before you get a detailed look, his face flushed as he takes a step back.

“S-sorry—” He looks away, rubbing his nape with shaky fingers. “I didn’t mean—shit I really have to go—I have to drink—” and when you blink your eyes, he’s vanished from your sight.

With your heart thundering inside your ribcages, you lean back against the kitchen counter again, your legs trembling under you.

That was close. So fucking close.

There’s a fear growing inside you but it’s not from the memory of him with his fangs extended like the true monster that he was. You’re not scared of him, you’re scared of yourself because you know you want him, you want him in any way possible. You want him to belong to you, to be with you, to be desperate for your touch, your blood, your presence, your everything, just as much as you are about him.

You bury your face in your palms. I am so fucked.

***

Hours turn into days and days turn into months, and before you know it, it has been a year since he moved into your apartment. The friendship that blooms between you feels nice and you want to keep it that way but it’s getting hard when he keeps on bringing random girls in skimpy dresses back to his room. You used to be furious by how loud they were being, but now you’re pretty much angry just simply by imagining him being with someone else. And it doesn’t even have to be sexual—just picturing him bonding with another person, even when it’s not as strong as what you two have, manages to irk you so much.

The thoughts of him keep revolving in your head no matter how hard you try to push them away. It even puts your relationship with Mark in jeopardy, as you can barely pay him any attention. It doesn’t surprise you at all when he decides to break things off, saying something cliche like, “I think we’re better off as friends,” and “It’s not you, it’s me,” which in normal circumstances will piss the hell out of you but when that happens, you simply just reply, “You’re right. Let’s be friends.” And there are no hard feelings—no feelings at all, even, which is weird considering you were only a month away from having your first anniversary with him.

Now that Mark is out of the picture, you can finally bring all of your attention back to Donghyuck. But the more you think about it, the more you’re not sure about the whole thing. He’s a vampire, isn’t he? What future do you expect to have with him? Let’s say you date him and things go well with your relationship, and then what? He’s going to stay young with that cute, boyish look on his face and you’re gonna be all wrinkled and gross, how are you ever going to be able to stand that? What if he wants someone prettier than you? What if he gets bored?

Or maybe it’s just lust you’re feeling. You don’t love him, you’re just physically attracted to him. That’s right. Strictly physical.

And yet, as you see him dressed up in a white buttoned-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, running a hand through his hair and pushing back his bangs to showcase his temple, you thought: fuck.

And when he smiles at you, as he places a plate filled with the exact dish he knows you love down to the dining table, saying, “I went ahead and did some research about you. I was about to buy you some presents but I thought it would feel more personal if I cooked something for you so,” and stopping to gaze at you with tender eyes before he adds, “Happy birthday, Sweetheart.” You thought: Jesus fucking Christ, just marry me already.

Donghyuck goes all the way with everything, from placing scented candles on the table, playing soft music in the background, even escorting you to your seat, pulling your chair back for you, and placing down a napkin on your lap. It’s too much for your poor brain to comprehend, and your chest is suffocating from all the feelings swirling behind it and Donghyuck looks so beautiful—almost goddamn ethereal even—in that shirt, in that hairstyle, in the dim light of the room.

“You’re not hungry?” He asks when a few seconds have passed by and you haven’t munched at your food like a caveman—because that’s what you usually do. 

“I’m—you—” You splutter, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before you try again. “You look nice.”

You can already tell that he’s about to say something along the line of “But baby, I always look nice.” So when he just softly smiles back and thanks you about it, telling how you look just as nice when you know you look like a storm just hit you, you’re pretty much lost for words.

“You seem exhausted,” he comments, frowning in concern. “Hard day at work?”

You can’t trust yourself that you won’t start rambling nonsense again while answering his question so you decide to just reply to him with a timid nod.

“Why are you so nervous?” He laughs, eyes turning crescents. “Your heartbeat is going through the roof again.”

You loathe yourself for being so transparent. “I’m nervous because you’re suddenly being so nice. I can’t help but think you have a hidden agenda or something.” That’s a lie. A complete lie.

And you’re sure he knows it. “And what if I do?” He asks, raising an eyebrow seductively. “What kind of a hidden agenda do you think I have for you?”

Why is it so fucking hot in here?! “I don’t know…” You start fiddling with the fingers you have on your lap. “Drinking my blood, maybe?”

His expression is a mystery to you, even when his smirk seems familiar. “And would you be okay if that’s true?”

You can’t answer but fortunately for you, Donghyuck lets out a chuckle, telling you he was making a lame joke. You force yourself to laugh but it sounds like a wheeze so you stop before it gets even more humiliating.

Donghyuck walks to your side with a bottle of wine in his hands, sliding glass to your side as he says, “Wine, milady? It’s not blood, I swear.” And you believe him because this time, the liquid seems more ruby than crimson.

“You really need to relax,” he comments as he leans his back against the edge of the table, raising the glass of his usual red wine in the air before he clanks it gently against yours. “To the cutest, sweetest roommate in the world.”

You immediately take a sip to hide the blush that creeps up your face, flinching when the burning, mildly bitter flavor hits your tongue. You’ve never drunk any alcohol in your life and although this first experience feels rather unpleasant, you keep chugging more of it down your system. 

“Does it taste good?” He asks, secretly smiling to himself as he witnesses how fast you’re drinking the whole glass down. You shake your head in response, which earns another laugh from him.

You’re not sure whether it’s because it’s your first time drinking alcohol or you just have a low tolerance when it comes to it, but you can feel yourself getting both lightheaded and drowsy. Donghyuck who takes notice of that, move you to the couch so you can rest more comfortably. “I better take this away,” he says, circling his lean fingers around your wine glass but you push him away.

“No,” you say, eyes a little bit unfocused. “I’m fine. Pour me some more.”

“Don’t you think it’s enough?”

“Just another glass, Hyuck, don’t be a bitch about it.”

He’s taken aback but collects his composure within seconds. “All right, just don’t blame me for it,” he states as he pours you another one.

“I have a question for you, Lee Donghyuck,” you coo as he takes a seat on the coffee table, facing you. “Does everyone’s blood taste the same to you?”

“It differs, actually,” he answers, taking a sip of his own drink. “But only faintly. I’m not that picky about it.”

“And how does it feel having your blood sucked by a vampire?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” He sways his head from side-to-side in amusement. “I mean, of course, I can have my blood drunk by another vampire but I’m not that kinky. I know some vampires who are into that kind of shit though.”

“Well, by the sound of your girls screaming like they were giving birth, it’s either very painful or very…” The sight of him staring at you intently, taking in your features, nearly throws you off tracks. “Pleasurable.”

There’s an awkward pause and silence hangs around to fill the space before Donghyuck speaks again. “How come you’re asking me these questions?”

“Because that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you confess, not sure why, but you’re feeling very brave at the moment. “And it’s not just about you drinking my blood, but more about you entirely. You know what I mean?”

Donghyuck places his glass down on the table, leaning towards you. “Not sure, but I’m all ears.”

“I… just…” It’s getting harder to speak when he’s so close, you can start locating every tiny mole he has on his face and his neck. The small one near his Adam’s apple is the one that distracts you the most. “I just think we’re compatible with each other, you know? And I’ve never enjoyed someone’s company this much before. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re both endearing and freaking annoying at the same time—how is that possible?”

But Donghyuck isn’t laughing. His eyes are deep and dark, raking over your profiles with so much intensity but when he swats the bangs out of your eyes, his touch is tender. “What else? Tell me more.”

You lean closer to his touch like how a kitten would, making him gulp slightly at the sight. “I get so vexed whenever you spend your time with anyone else. I know I have no right to be jealous since we’re just friends but I can’t help it.” You sigh, rubbing the side of your face with your palm. “It’s so fucking tiring to think about you this much when I can’t have you.”

You’re too lost in your own thoughts that when Donghyuck reaches out a hand to touch your face, you jump in surprise, spilling wine all over your blouse. “Shit, this is my favorite shirt,” you whine, sliding your glass down to the table. “Can you get me some tissues?”

But what he does is lifting your body with both of his arms and carry you to the bathroom. You cling onto him with a yelp, trying to keep yourself away from falling even though you’re sure he’s perfectly able to hold your weight.

Donghyuck places you down on the bathroom counter, your fingers dangling at the edge of your sink. Sitting up straight, you begin to feel conscious of your surroundings. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite shirt, right? We need to wash the stain before it sticks,” He explains, his fingers going to your collar. You nearly stop breathing when he asks for permission to undress you, “May I?”

You swallow hard before you weakly nod.

He takes time unbuttoning your shirt one by one when you know he can rip it apart easily with one finger. He’s so gentle, his touches are paper-thin but whenever his icy fingertips make slight contact with your skin, it sends electricity to every inch of your body. 

When he manages to untangle the clothing from your body, you’re only left in your bra and your black satin lace cami top. You can tell he tries to be polite by not staring at what you’re wearing, and instead immediately drags your blouse to the sink, drenching it with water.

“Where did you place the detergent again?” He asks, reaching up over your head to check on the top cabinet and he’s so fucking close that you can see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks. And it’s really, really tempting to just lean over and—

Donghyuck flinches when he feels you sinking your face in the crook of his neck, mapping your lips on his skin, breathing in his scent. You don’t know how vampires usually smell like but Donghyuck reminds you of summer even when you’re not sure how summer smells like. It’s funny how you’re not making sense, even in your own thoughts.

Pushing you away by the shoulders, Donghyuck’s eyes gleam in the way you’ve never seen before. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I…” You can’t form a word—you can’t even form a thought as you’re too busy staring at his lips, how smooth they look, how thrilling they must feel against your own. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about yours because when you lean in for a taste, he meets you halfway.

It’s warm and it doesn’t make any sense, because the rest of his body is icy cold but as you press your mouth against his, all you can think about is how his lips are warm and soft, so fucking soft and delightful and maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you but you don’t care.

You breathe heavily through your nose, yanking at the collar of his shirt so he’s closer to you than he’s ever been, and you tilt your head slightly, angling your face so you can meld your lips deeper against his. He instinctively reacts by holding the side of your face, fingers slipping between your strands, tips curling around your nape.

He kisses better than any man you’ve ever been with and you’re sure he’s better than any man you’ll ever date in the future because Donghyuck knows what he’s doing, even when he’s caught by surprise. 

Sliding your hand up to his chest, you can tell how his skin stands in contrast to the warmth of his mouth and it makes you shiver, your breathing rags, and you moan into his mouth, tracing your tongue along the puncture of his fang that’s still retracted, almost as normal as a human’s but something inside you tells you it’s not going to stay that long if you continue doing this.

So anticipation builds inside you because there’s absolutely no way you’re going to stop what you’re doing.

But Donghyuck is surprisingly more chivalrous than he looks. He pulls away, giving you a few inches of space to break the attraction. It’s not enough, your mind is still heavily clouded by the thoughts of him, so you reach up to kiss him again, catching his lower lip between yours.

“No, wait,” he says, voice sounding breathy though he doesn’t breathe. He circles his fingers around your wrists, holding them down against the counter so you won’t be able to move. 

“Let me just kiss you,” you plead, eyes dazed and desperate. “Please.”

His chuckles are soft, almost inaudible. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not, I swear.” It’s horribly embarrassing how you’re itching for his touch as if losing physical contact with him causes you madness. “Hold up your fingers and ask me to count them. I’ll guess it right, trust me, so can you just—” You try to move your hand to pull him close but his grip around your wrist is stronger than your strength. “Hyuck—”

“Look, I want this just as much as you do—” He hisses when you’re using your knee this time, sliding it between his legs, giving him the friction that he needs. “Fuck. I probably want this more than you do, but—” He loses control for a split second, re-attaching his mouth to yours with so much fervor, tongues desperate to taste one another. The way you whimper against him makes him groan, his hand sliding down your thigh and spreading your legs apart so he can fit himself between them.

It’s when his fangs suddenly puncture your lips, drawing a hint of blood and making you cry out in surprise that he wakes up from his reverie, pushing himself away immediately to the other side of the room. You almost topple forward from suddenly losing him to lean on but manage to keep your balance by gripping at the edge of the counter.

Donghyuck turns around, facing the bathroom tiles as he leans one hand against the wall while his other one covers his mouth.

“Hyuck—”

“Sorry, let me just—“ His shoulders are shaking, trying his best to calm himself and the thirst that overwhelmed him earlier. “They’ll go back in a minute.”

“No.” You jump down from the counter, moving to his spot with careful steps. “Let me see them.”

He shakes his head, still not turning around to face you.

“I want to see them, Hyuck.” You place your hand on his shoulder, caressing him gently until he finally submits to your touch. 

You only ever saw him with his fangs retracted twice in your life but even then, it was always too dark and too fast for you to see him properly. Now, you can take your time.

He’s so fascinating.

His eyes, as they peer into you in concern and uncertainty that he might hurt you, are glowing brightly in the color of topaz and they’re strikingly beautiful that you can barely look at anywhere else. His fangs are larger but he can still hide them behind his lips if needed. It’s the way they become frighteningly sharp that sends a shiver down your spine but you brave yourself enough to reach out to him.

“C-can I touch…?” You hesitantly ask, and he looks conflicted by the question but soon gives you a timid nod. He parts his mouth slightly so you can trace your fingertip along his cuspid, and you flinch as it feels like a knife splitting your skin. 

He hastily pulls back, terrified at the thought of hurting you. “You’re okay?”

“Do it with me.”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, your heartbeat going crazy. “I want you to drink from me.”

“You’re crazy—”

“Please.” You lay a hand on his chest, tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck to his eyes. “Just try, Hyuck…”

The glimmer in his eyes shows that he’s yearning to fulfill your wish but he cups your cheek again, telling you, “You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

“I won’t.” Your fingers find a home in his waves. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time so—”

A high-pitched yelp escapes your lips and you have to muffle the rest of your scream by mouthing against the fabric that covers his shoulder because Donghyuck doesn’t waste any second after he heard your confession. His canines are prickling against the skin under your jaw, just between the earlobe and the collarbone. And it hurts when he sinks them—so, so badly—that tears begin to form almost instantly behind your closed lids. Donghyuck suddenly lets you go, his eyes widening as he gazes at the way blood is gushing through his bite mark. “Fuck,” he says, “How can you taste so—” and he dives in again, moaning rather loudly when the warmth of your blood fills his mouth, swallowing a big gulp each time. “So fucking good,” he murmurs in pleasure, tightening his hold desperately around your waist as if you’re the thread that keeps him alive.

The pain only stays for a few seconds before a rush of endorphin seeps into your skin, running through your veins and pumping euphoria to every inch of your body. You slowly relax against his chest, eyes becoming half-lidded as you go into a trance, heartbeat slowing. You’ve never done any methamphetamine in your life but you imagine that it must feel somewhat like this. 

“Hyuck…” You breathe out, feeling a little bit lightheaded, the strap of your camisole falling off your shoulder. You can feel your knees slowly giving out under your weight. “I… I can’t stand…”

He yanks himself away for a second, only to lift you so you can wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. He carries you back to the counter, placing you down in the same spot as before, your legs dangling in the air.

“Better?” He asks, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb along your cheekbone. You nod, eyes going down to focus on his fangs again. His lips are painted with your blood, with some of it trickling down his chin. He’s a monster and he definitely looks like one, but his eyes are tender and his hands are silky smooth on your skin.

He slides his hand down to the hem of your camisole, fingers rubbing against the fabric as he peppers soft kisses along your jawline. “Is this one your favorite too?”

“Huh?” You’re having the hardest time trying to focus. “Oh… No, not really.”

“Well, then,” his lips are still sucking bruises on your neck when he rips both of your camisole and your bra with one flick of his hand, exposing your bare chest to the air, making you jump in surprise.

“Hyuck—” You’re silenced with another kiss, and it’s so consuming, so deep, so wild that you nearly sob against his mouth. The taste of copper makes you frown in discomfort but the knot starts to loosen when his tongue darts out to meet you in a messy kiss.

His hand is going down to your breast, cupping the side while he runs his thumb along your sensitive bud, making you rake your nails against his back in response. His other hand is tracing the curve of your waist, going down to your hips before he tears your skirt away, tossing the clothing somewhere across the room, following your previous ones.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he says, hooking his hands at the back of your knees before he pulls your legs forward, pressing his hardness against the wetness of your lingerie. You whine, circling your legs around his waist for stability, and murmurs, “No, don’t stop, please,” against his ear.

It’s not fair that he’s still fully clothed so you frantically toy with the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders with so much eagerness before you roam your lips to every inch of his exposed skin. 

Donghyuck licks along the wound of his previous bite, emitting a sinful moan from the back of his throat when your blood sparks ecstasy in his mouth. His fingers are tentatively rubbing you over your lingerie and you beg with your lips muffled by the skin of his chest, “Take it off, just take it off, please—“

You can feel a tiny laugh reverberating from his chest over your desperation but you don’t care. You really are that desperate.

Donghyuck is more than willing to comply, sliding the lingerie down your thighs and you help him push it off your legs completely. You guide his palm to your heat, his fingers immediately sliding between your folds, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His mouth finds his way down the valley of your breasts and goes lower and lower until he has his head between your thighs.

You nibble at your lip in anticipation when he presses open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh. Donghyuck makes sure he has his eyes fixed on yours when he dips his fangs into your supple skin, making you quiver with the sensation.

“God, Hyuck.” You’re going insane, you can feel it. “I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me.”

And he probably is too because he’s abandoning all of his self-control at once. The way he sucks bruises on your skin, lapping at the trail of blood that painted your body is almost animalistic, raw passion mixed with lust and uncontrollable desire. He unbuckles his belt in hurry, pushing his jeans and boxers down just low enough to release himself from its confines. You can feel his tip grazing against your clit before he glides his length down your folds, pulling you by the legs so you’re almost laying down on the counter, half of your back pressed against the mirror behind you.

His eyes are hooded but they speak reassurance when they bore into yours. “I’ll be gentle.”

Now that it finally sinks you’re going to do this for the first time, your lustful desire gradually changes into jitters. You nod, permitting him to proceed. 

The feeling of him stretching you little by little is absolutely painful and he can tell that too, hissing, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” as his eyebrows adjoin in the middle. You can barely stand the pain and you’re about to stop him by reaching out a hand, but he grabs your wrist and sinks his teeth to your skin.

Another jolt of pain sends tremors all over your body but just like before, another rush of endorphin hits you like a wave, gradually reducing your pain until you’re in haze again, blissful even, but also even more aroused than before, hungry for his touch.

“You’re okay?” He asks, licking the blood that trails down your arm. “Are you still in pain?”

You’re breathing hard but you can feel your heartbeat slowing. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

His glowing eyes are gazing down at you with desire, intense with lust. He runs his tongue along his lower lip once, smirking as he says, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Even when he said he was going to be gentle with you, he’s doing the exact opposite. Or maybe he is going gentle, which only makes you wonder how wild can he be when he’s not holding back. The thought of him losing control of his mind as he pounds into you senselessly makes you shudder, tightening yourself around his length unconciously.

“My God.” The feeling of your heat enveloping him—squeezing around him—makes him drop his temple on your shoulder, dissolving him into a groaning mess. “You are driving me insane, do you know that?”

“Don’t hold back,” you hold his face, caressing his sharp jawline with trembling fingers. “Just do what you want.”

“But I’ll break you.” Although his eyes seem like he’s about to grant your wish.

 You let your tongue slide up from his chin to his lower lip, stopping just to whisper, “Then break me apart, I don’t care,” before you crush his mouth with yours again.

Donghyuck’s thrust is both deep and hard, knocking your breath with each pound as he holds you by your hips, nails clawing into the skin. Maybe it’s the trace of endorphin left in your body that heightened all your senses while at the same time washing all your pain away because everything feels so unbelievably good. His touches, his kisses, his thrusts, and the way he moves his hips faster and faster until you can’t properly breathe—everything feels amazing. 

And his voice—God, his voice—the way he moans and grunts against your ear, or when he sprouts expletives while he buries his face deep in the crook of your neck, lips scorching against your skin, makes you think fuck why did I waste a fucking year doing nothing when I can have him like—

You’re interrupted from finishing your thought when Donghyuck suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper from the loss, and turns you around, forcing you to land on your feet again, your stomach pressed against the edge of the counter. You place both hands on the marbled surface as he pulls your hips closer to him, pressing his hardness against your behind as he presses his chest to your spine.

“Come here, look,” he says, holding you by the chin and lifts your face so you can gaze directly into the mirror. He shifts his hand, now holding back your bangs so your eyes are reflected perfectly. “Look how beautiful you are,” he purrs near your ear, the tip of his nose brushing against your jawline.

It’s both embarrassing and arousing to see yourself being held domineeringly by him, the curves of your body fit his perfectly even from behind. Your lips are bruised and swollen, blood smears messily around your neck, your wrist, your thigh even on your hips from the way he trailed his coated fingers along the skin. 

Donghyuck raises two of his blood-smeared fingers to your lips, mixing your lipstick with your own blood before he slowly drags his fingers away, painting blurred lines of crimson to your cheek. He sighs at the sight, eyes half-lidded as they glow brighter. “If I’m a monster,” he says, voice low and breathy, “Then you’re a fucking goddess.”

You shudder and avert your gaze, ashamed of how sultry you look in the mirror and how sinful his gaze is as they rake over your body. He presses close, completing the dip of your spine with his chest like a matching puzzle. His fingers curl around the front of your neck, forcing you to look at your reflection once more as he licks a stripe up your wound. “We look good together, don’t you think?”

You’re breathing hard, chest heaving up and down with each breath. “Hyuck…” You crave for him to fill you again like before. “Please, just—"

He glides his hand down between your legs, teasing you with small touches but strong and fast enough to make you quiver. “So sensitive too,” he chuckles, nipping slightly at your earlobe. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Before you can retort anything back, he pushes the head of his cock into your heat again, agonizingly slowly at first but slams the rest of it with one snap of his hips.

“I’ve thought about this—about us—I think about you a lot,” he confesses, with low groans interrupting his lines. “You’re really driving me insane with that face of yours, your lips, your voice—whenever you call my name, whenever you pout after losing an argument—the way you secretly stare at me wherever I go—”

“I don’t—” You gasp, thighs trembling under your weight and he wraps an arm along your stomach, holding you still while he pushes in deeper. “I never—”

“And the way you lie just like now, with that blush creeping on your face.” He chuckles, kissing the middle of your shoulder blades. “Fuck, you’re so cute—so fucking cute that it pisses me off whenever you talk about Mark when we both know he can’t satisfy you the way I do—he doesn’t understand you— doesn’t get your stupid jokes—” He begins to fall out of rhythm, hips moving faster with each thrust. “He doesn’t deserve you—I deserve you.”

You catch the sight of your reflection, noticing how he sometimes throws his head back in pleasure, his strong hands gripping on the sides of your waist as he rolls his hips again and again, thrusting into you until you can only cry out his name and nothing more. It’s too obscene, too erotic for your eyes to witness, and when he locks his gaze with yours in the mirror, you nearly faint.

“H-Hyuck—” You reach out a hand back, trying to find his for support but he holds your wrist against your spine, pumping into you with strong strokes, leaving you with no options other than pressing the side of your face against the marble countertop, mouth parting in a silent scream.

The sounds of his groans and your whimpers echo through the bathroom walls, along with the sound of your skin meeting his. His teeth prickling against your shoulder, his eyes going to see how you look underneath him in the mirror before he sinks his fangs deep into you, making various sounds of pleasure as he drinks your blood.

The sensation of his thrust, his fingers slightly choking you as he holds you by your neck, and the amount of endorphin that washes over you soon drives you to your release and he embraces you closer, feeling every shake that you emit directly with his body. And maybe it’s from the loss of blood or everything else combined, but your vision starts to blur and suddenly your world turns black.

***

When you wake up, you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling you’ve seen a million times with your eyes barely open. You’re still pretty much in a haze, not sure if you’re still floating inside your dream or back in reality. It’s until your door opens with a click that you can start to differentiate.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He peeks inside through the door holding your favorite mug, already dressed back in his favorite black tee and matching jeans. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Can I come in?”

He walks in without needing an answer and, weirdly, he doesn’t seem nervous or awkward when the sight of him already makes you blush fervently and your heart races fast. A flashback comes in like an unstoppable train and you almost reach out a hand to your neck, wanting to know if his bite mark is still there. 

The way he acts is so natural that you begin to wonder whether all that happened was simply your imagination. But when you try to move your body, jolts of pain runs like electricity to your bones, making you freeze instantly. It feels like somebody is trying to crack your head open, tearing your body apart and you fall back to the bed, weak and exhausted.

“You all right?” He immediately rushes to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed, checking on your face. “You lost a lot of blood, so I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. I brought you some coconut water, here,” he places the mug down on your nightstand. “And some supplements too. They’ll help with your blood loss. I’ll cook some fish and eggs for dinner later.”

You can only nod, too tired to even speak. His eyes begin to soften, his fingers reaching out to caress the strands of your hair. “I guess I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry.”

“A bit…?” You croak out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats but can’t help a smile forming on his face. “I tried so hard not to, but you were so cute.”  He leans closer, his lips hovering above yours but he rethinks his decision before he closes the gap, and moves to press a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. “You should get more sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “Call me when you need help. I’ll be right outside.”

And he doesn’t spare you a glance as he stands up from the bed, but the way he trips on his feet once makes you realize that oh, maybe he’s embarrassed about all this too.

“Hyuck.”

He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder as he lays a hand against your doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Where does this leave us?”

His face slightly goes stern. Turning over to face you, he questions further. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you pause, wetting your lip in anxiety. “Do you want us to pretend it didn’t happen?”

His eyes darken, somehow seem a bit upset. “Do you?”

“I… Uhh…” The way your heart is beating so fast makes you feel nauseous. “I don’t, but—”

“Then don’t suggest something like that,” he sighs, walking back to your bed again. He kneels on the floor so you’re eye-to-eye, squeezing your hand with his larger one. “Don’t scare me, okay? I finally have you where I want you.”

You look away, attempting to hide your flustered face. “But then, what are we now?”

“I don’t care what we are. I just want us to keep doing this.”

“Doing what, sex? You drinking my blood?”

“No, idiot.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, yes, of course, that too. Plenty of that. But what I meant was I want to continue to have this kind of relationship with you. Us living together, making fun of each other, having dinners together, even spend hours watching re-runs of your stupid tv shows—”

“They’re not stupid.”

“They’re stupid. I only watch them because of you. You are my favorite show.” He winks, breaking the tension and you blurt out laughing, shoving him playfully by the shoulder. But when your giggle starts to fade, Donghyuck leans in to cup your cheek, smiling softly. “I just want to spend more time with you, as long as you’d let me. So can we have that? Please?”

“I…” You’re so captivated by his features, especially the shape of his lips. “I guess…”

“You guess?” He scrunches up his nose. “You’re playing hard to get again? Seriously? After all the begging you did in the bathroom?” Seeing you blush only makes him want to tease you harder. “What was it that you said? God, Hyuck, I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me—“

“Okay, shut up, geez!” You slap a hand against his mouth, steam practically coming out of your ears. “Yes, we can have that. I’d… love to have that actually.”

Kissing your inner palm, he lovingly smiles against your skin, appreciating your honesty. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Sweetheart?”

***

Read the sequel here

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (7/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: NSFW (at end of chapter)

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage, sexual content (consensual)

Word Count: 3715

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: No notes really. Sorry for the wait.

Enjoy

***

Mother & Father,

(y/n) and I will be continuing our honeymoon for at least an extra week. We will be traveling outside of Paris. I will send an owl once we are settled in the hotel.

Walburga stares down at the letter. 

Cold shock fills her at her new daughter-in-law willingly is staying past the allotted time Regulus had planned for the couple's honeymoon. 

Walburga thought them to be so indifferent about one another that they would have arrived home days earlier than planned, not extend their time alone together.

Hopefully, though, this meant the next heir of the House of Black would be on the way.

Part of her knows her son will continue to be stubborn, casting those infernal charms. Walburga didn't understand why her son insisted on-- engaging with his wife if he was just going to waste the attempt with a literal flick of his wand. The way he ignored his duties to his birthright was infuriating. She had thought she had raised this son to honor his pure blood and pedigree. To never ignore the responsibilities he had to his family.

Walburga glares at her husband. Blasted Orion had been the one to teach Regulus the contraceptive charm. Although she is glad no bastard children are running around, something she knew Regulus was aware could not happen, she wasn't happy that her golden boy is presently defying her wishes. If Orion hadn't insisted on taking her son to his-- whores, they wouldn't be in this position. Regulus shouldn't have been exposed to those dirty blood, good for nothing tarts. 

Tainting one's flesh was as good as tainting one's blood, in Walburga's mind. Not that she'd express her thoughts to anyone of their status. Men of Pureblood never seemed to view things of this matter as she did.

She knew this from experience.

Walburga sets the letter down on the breakfast table, "Regulus and (y/n) will be extending their-- holiday for another week yet."

"Is that right?" Orion says absentmindedly, continuing to scan the Prophet. She can tell he isn't listening to a word she says. Even after all these years, Orion's inattentiveness still boils her blood to an extent. You would think one would get used to being ignored, especially after all the years she has had to get used to it.

"I wonder where he will be taking our daughter-in-law."

"Yes, very weird."

Walburga's expression sours-- further. She snatches up the letter from Regulus and storms out of the breakfast room without another word.

***

I bustle around the room when Regulus is away, posting another letter. The afternoon and night before had been nice, to say the least. Regulus had been sweet, almost affectionate, the entire time we spent together. It was a big change in a short amount of time, which worried me a bit. Hopefully, he wouldn't revert back to his old ways in the next few days. Merlin-- I hope he won't at all.

I rearranged the bed pillows for the sixth time, trying to distract myself from my thoughts.

The door's key noise disturbs my thoughts as Regulus steps into the room.

"Hi," I rub my hands down the front of my dress.

We stare awkwardly at one another for a moment before he speaks.

"I've been thinking about traveling outside of Paris. Would you be interested in extending our-- honeymoon?" 

I'm taken aback by his sudden choice in conversation, "Where outside of Paris?"

"We can go wherever you please," he holds my hand, pulling me closer to his chest. This is the closest we've been since before he committed to trying our relationship out.

I clear my throat, "I-- guess that I'm just not really picky about where we go."

He smiles, "Well, then I guess you'll just have to trust that the places I want to go are places you want to go."

***

Together we pack up our belongings, casually swapping small talk.

"Do you want to write to your parents?" Regulus looks up from packing his trunk. "I mean, you haven't seen them since the wedding."

"What?" I give him a weird look, "No. I don't have anything to say to them."

Regulus looks slightly alarmed, "What do you mean?" 

"No offense to you, but my parents practically forced me to marry you. I'm not too keen on speaking with them right now."

"You shouldn't just-- I mean, they're your parents."

"Doesn't mean what they did wasn't insensitive. I wasn't theirs to just... give away."

He reflects on my words before taking my hand in his, squeezing comfortingly, "Sorry."

"For what? I know you were coerced into marrying me. It's not your fault."

"I know that. And at some level, I was pushed towards-- doing the right thing-- but I also had the right to refuse, and you were not granted such a right."

I nod, looking away as tears threatened at the corners of my eyes, "It doesn't matter--"

"No, it does matter. You do matter." I meet his eyes. They're steely, the furrowed brow and sour expression I know are not for me. "Don't you see why I use the bloody contraception charms now? They've taken too much from us already (y/n). They're not going to take that away from us as well."

I blink again, "That's why?"

"Of course it's why. We're not-- we're people for Merlin's sake. You're not property (y/n). I won't let anyone treat my wife like that." I'm not sure what to say to him. Thank you? Maybe that would be appropriate. "Besides, we're too young to think of such things. Maybe in ten years--"

"Ten years?" I laugh, "you really think I can keep them at bay for ten whole years? Your mother would be calling in every fertility specialist in the wizarding world, insistent that something must be wrong with me. Certainly, she wouldn't believe the problem was you."

Regulus sighs, "Okay, fine. Not ten years, maybe-- five?"

"Regulus," I laugh, "I know you don't like it. I am completely aware that you don't like being pushed around and knowing that I feel bad for trying to trick you into doing what I wish. But, like you said earlier. You can refuse, do as you please, but I only have one option laid out before me as your wife. And, I can't wait forever for you. I don't have that option. In a much wider social stance, people will talk and make my life miserable. Along with that, your mother and my own will also make my life miserable. There's nothing I'd like to do more than to-- take time for us, or even just me, but that just isn't the life we can lead."

Regulus looks down at his packing. I have to change the subject, feeling that we've exhausted this conversation enough for now.

"Who are you sending letters to?" 

Regulus looks up, "Well, the first one was for my brother, and the one this morning was for my parents."

"Oh, I didn't know you were talking to your brother." I'm suddenly reminded that Regulus hadn't answered my questions.

"So..."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you now to tell me about your childhood now?"

Regulus looks uncomfortable immediately. He rubs the back of his neck, "Um-- Sure."

I reach for his arm, hoping that my touch is just a little bit comforting, "You don't have to, Regulus. If you don't want to."

"No," his eyes look so... serious as he collects his thoughts, "I want to be honest with you, and this is a part of who I am." I smile at him, my fingers moving to intertwine with his. "My parents are-- well, they clearly are in a situation like ours. Except it has been a very long time now, and nothing good came from the union."

"Well, not exactly nothing," I squeeze his hand.

Regulus rolls his eyes, "I'm not sure Sirius and I are something good, but okay, yes. Not everything was bad if you insist." His reserved smile has butterflies exploding in my stomach. "Anyways, my father has always chosen to be... well, he's always strayed from my mother. Even when I was a child, I'm sure he chose to be unfaithful even before Sirius and I. And-- uh..."

"What?" I'm not sure I want to know. He's developed a pink flush on his cheeks, not meeting my eye suddenly.

"Well, I was just going to-- confess, I suppose, about his favorite whorehouse."

Frowning, I ask what he means by confessing? What in the world is the connection between Orion's favorite whorehouse and Regulus.

It dawns on me exactly what he's confessing to, right as he speaks.

Regulus reddens further, "I'm sure you understand where I am going..."

I guess I have no reason to be upset over Regulus's past trysts. He was older than me, and most importantly, he was a pureblood man who was expected to... well, act as a pureblood man acts. And that included sleeping around as a bachelor, or in the Black family's case, sleeping with a select group of people their patriarch has chosen.

"Orion thought that we should uh-- learn in preparation for our marriages. Get out any wildness in our systems with the protection of women who were paid and wouldn't try to blackmail with a bastard child." 

I feel the cold glacial feeling of guilt rise up from the pit of my stomach all the way to my skin. Had I been-- Had I been causing him to relive a painful moment when I demanded--?

"And well, there are plenty of other things that were-- questionable about my parent's parenting style. My mother, you probably recognize she is a cruel, cold woman. A part of our recently exchanged letters, my brother and I were talking about a memory of our mother. Before she was the woman, you know, she was, well, a much more loving mother to the both of us. You actually were the one who brought forth the memory."

"I did?"

Regulus nods, reaching to cup my cheek in his hand, "It was the night we went to that-- the restaurant my father suggested. You said something about-- uh, a potential child giving you the love you seek from me."

I look away, feeling embarrassed by my words. To some extent, I do-- or did believe that having Regulus's heir, that a child's love could replace the feelings that should be between us as a couple.

"I--" I'm not even sure what to say. "That was wrong of me. I mean, eventually, it has to happen but pushing you-- or well attempting to trick you actually, because I thought..." What did I think? That he was hopeless? That I'd be stuck in a marriage that would parallel his parents and every other miserable Pureblood couple that has come before us.

"You have to remember that I am far from-- where you want me to be." Regulus's thumb traces under my eye, "But I certain I want what you've been asking me for."

***

Our packing takes longer than we'd expected as we spend more moments in conversation about our pasts, present, and hopeful future.

Regulus tells me about his first owl, a little brown owl originally named Maverick but nicknamed Rick because Regulus hadn't been able to pronounce it at age six. He tells me about family vacations that ended in disaster and his first date with a half-blood girl in year four that went terribly wrong. He reluctantly tells me about losing his virginity after I argue he already knew my story. With each moment, I feel more connected to him. How you feel at the beginning of the relationship when you're getting to know someone, the silly stuff that matters because you want to know them.

Checking out of the hotel is a bit-- strange, to say the least. As my husband talks to the witch at the front desk, who introduced herself to me as Seren, has been grinning an extra amount at Regulus, who appears to be oblivious to the flirtatious nature of the girl.

I'm surprised by the annoyance I feel as she flirts with my husband right in front of me. Without a second thought, I reach for his hand. I make sure that the ring Regulus gave me is obviously placed as I look Seren straight in the eye. Her eyes fall on the large purple jewel before her eyes shoot back up to mine. She at least has the decency to look embarrassed, her cheeks pinkening. Regulus frowns slightly at the interaction before going back to paying the witch.

I can't say that I'm not glad when we officially check out and walk out of the door. The jealousy is alarming, but what am I supposed to do when someone is ogling my husband? 

"I'm not completely oblivious, you know." Regulus glances at me, a small amused smile on his face.

"To what? The girl flirting with you?"

He chuckles, "That and your possessive behavior."

I look at him outraged, "I was not possessive."

He holds up my hand, "What was this about then? You casually wanted to hold my hand?"

"So what if I did?" 

Regulus rolls his eyes, "If that's what you really believe you were doing and not claiming me--"

"Claiming you?" I snatch my hand away.

"What else are you doing when you're showing off that ring?"

"I'm hardly claiming you. She was just-- too comfortable for my liking."

Regulus makes a sound in the back of his throat, "If you say so."

I bite the inside of my cheek, "Why didn't you do anything?"

He tries to hide a smile, "I hardly was indulging her."

"You didn't tell her to--" fuck off.

"I guarantee you, my dear wife, I have been deflecting her attempts all week." Oh, so maybe this wasn't exactly Regulus's fault... completely.

"You have?"

He stops me on the sidewalk, "Yes, of course. Do you really think I would flirt with another woman? Especially now?"

I shrug, "I guess-- no. I don't think you'd do that."

He shakes his head, "Of course I wouldn't."

***

I hold (y/n) tight against my chest as I apparate us to our new destination, remembering how she reacted the last time we apparated. 

The moment we're safely on the ground, I continue to hold her, asking quietly if she's okay in a hushed tone. (y/n) nods, her fingers gripping the sleeve of my coat.

For a second, I contemplate pressing a kiss to her temple as I rub my hand up and down her back, but I stop myself before I go through with the reaction. Even with the small progress we've made, it feels too intimate, even as a gesture of comfort. 

"Tell me when you're ready," I whisper.

Slowly, (y/n) pulls away from my embrace, (y/e/c) eyes opening hesitantly.

"I really don't like it." She says hesitantly.

"I can tell." We stand still for another beat before she confirms she is in better shape.

"Where are we?"

"Cork, Ireland." 

Her eyes widen with curiosity, "Really? I've never been. Dad's been a few times, but obviously, with school and other things, I hadn't had the chance to successfully convince him to take me with."

"So there were places you wished to visit." I can't help but tease her as she prattles on about the things her father has told her about the city we're visiting.

"Of course, but you spring things on me too quickly. I can never recall things when I've been surprised."

I chuckle, "Fair enough. We should check in soon; it's nearly ten. Whoever's running the front desk won't be happy we've arrived so late."

***

By the time we've checked in and opened the door to the suite, it's nearing ten-thirty. 

(y/n) takes a quick peek around the room before turning back towards me, "I suppose we should unpack--"

I don't let her finish the statement as I take two large steps towards her, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her soundly on the mouth. She makes a sound of surprise but doesn't pull away or smack me or something she ought to do, really. I'm not even sure where this need to kiss her came from. Maybe the way the soft light of the dimmed bedroom lights landed across her person, making her picturesque, ethereal even.

All I do know is that I must have her this instant. Must feel her soft skin under my fingers, feel her silken warmth as we move together atop the sheets of the hotel bed.

I have to have her, and I can only hope she feels the same way.

Tentatively, I run my hand down her spine, fiddling with the ridiculous amount of buttons that I could easily open with the flick of my wand. Something about the thought of painstakingly unbuttoning each individual button was incredibly erotic.

"I can never seem to control myself when you're around," I whisper as I kiss below her jaw. The way she seems to melt under the words has me smiling against her neck as I continue to kiss down to her exposed collarbone. These damn dresses she wears always showed off just enough cleavage to draw my eyes towards the neckline. "Do you wear these dresses on purpose? Torturing me all day, having to see only the tops of your breasts." Her breath hitches, egging me on. "Do you like it when I talk about your body like that? Like the way, just the sight of some of your naked flesh has me turned on? Hm?"

"Regulus--" My name comes from her lips like a prayer. 

"Tell me what you want." My hands worship her body, squeezing her covered tits. I would do anything to get this blasted dress off of her.

"I-- I want you."

"Want me to do what? Use your words, kitten."

Her lips, red and abused, open and close attractively once or twice before she finds her words, "I want you to fuck me."

"Fuck you? You want my cock, huh? Is that it? In any way that I'll give it to you?"

She blinks, a bit confused, but nods. I can't believe I've rendered my wife so speechless, so cock-hungry she can barely articulate what she wants.

"Let's get this off then," I tug at the neckline of her dress, "turn around, kitten." She quickly obeys, and I get to work on the buttons, finding I can release her from her dress easier than I had previously imagined. 

The fabric hits the floor as I gaze at her naked back, "turn back around. Think you've teased me enough. I want to see those tits."

Slowly, she faces me once again.

"I think I wanna fuck these," I say as I reacquaint myself with the feeling of her breasts in my hands.

"You want to-- what?" I often forget that my wife's sexual experience starts and ends with what we've done. She's looking at me like I've said something odd.

"You want me to show you? I think you'd look lovely with my cock between your breasts." I discard my pants, shirt, and jacket, pulling her towards the bed, lightly guiding her down to the floor as I sit.

"What about fucking me?" She frowns up at me.

I chuckle at her indignant frown, "Don't worry, darling. I plan on cumming inside of you. Now, push your tits together nice and tight around me. There we go."

Hesitantly, she does as I say. The sight alone has me twitching. 

Gently, I thrust up. If I thought the view before was good, seeing her innocent face watch as I seek pleasure from a new place on her body. She's radiant, on her knees, watching my cock disappear and reappear. 

"Do you like that, darling? Like watching?"

Her eyes flit up to meet mine, "Yes." It takes nearly everything within me not to cum on the spot. Merlin, what was this girl doing to me?

"Do you want me to fuck you, kitten?" I hold her chin, so she has to look at me.

"Obviously." There's that attitude I expect. Chuckling, I pull her from her knees, maneuvering her on her back.

"So impatient. Just itching to feel me deep inside ya, huh?" She nods, "words, darling."

"Yes, please."

The first inches feel like coming home. She makes those breathy noises I love, pleading with me for more, to give her everything and anything I can. 

It's a symphony in the room, the headboard of the old creaky bed knocking against the wallpapered wall, the noises (y/n) makes every time she moves her hips against mine... There's no doubt that we're alerting the rest of the occupants exactly what we're doing in room twelve. 

This thought stirs something inside of me. Clumsily, my fingers find her clit hoping to get her exactly where I'm at.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop--" her voice is utterly fucked as she practically chants these words.

"Cum for me, kitten. Don't hold back." Merlin-- please don't hold back.

If our neighbors weren't aware of the little-- musical act happening in our room, they were now. (y/n) writhes beneath me, fingernails digging into the small of my back.

"Fuck--" I don't hold back as she clenches down hard. 

Was it ever this good with someone else? I can't think of a single woman who makes me cum as hard as I do with (y/n).

As the weaker aftershocks continue to rack my body, I lay down next to her, pulling her into my embrace. I reach for my wand in my discarded jacket, silently casting the charm.

(y/n) looks like she wants to say something, but I stop her, kissing her forehead.

"I promise, someday. But not today." (y/n) doesn't say anything but nods as she gets more comfortable in my arms. "You know, this is the first time we've done this."

"What do you mean?" (y/n) laughs, "we've done this a few times now."

"Not that. I mean, usually, one of us runs off after we've done that. This is the first time you're voluntarily in my arms."

(y/n) makes a soft noise of agreement, "That's true."

I smile. This was progress.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Five Shades of Hunnam

President • King • Captain • Pilot • Gentleman

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: Here’s Part 2 of this crazy filthy fantasy of getting gang-banged by five versions of Charlie!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 Part 2 is written based on the results of this poll asking which Hunnams y’all would prefer in each hole 🤪

Pairings: Jax Teller + King Arthur + Will Miller + Raleigh Becket + Raymond Smith ... x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, gang bang Request: Kinkfest request from @itsme-autumn

Word Count: ~3.3k

GIFs by misterhunnam | hunnamsource | charllehunnam

... Continued from Part 1 [Read Here]

“Tell me, baby. Do you want us to treat you like a lady...? Or whip out all five of our cocks and just go fucking crazy?”

The fact that Jax Teller is here in your room—standing among four other men just as stunning as him, all in the form of Mr. Charlie Fucking Hunnam—the fact that Jax just said that to you... is honestly too hot to be true.

What the hell are you supposed to say to that? Supposed to do...?

You’re soaking wet and need them bad. So horny you feel fucking dead. You want to speak and yet you can’t. King Arthur has Excalibur in hand; the way you’re feeling right this instant, hurts as if that goddamn legendary sword stabbed you straight through.

With fire in his eyes of icy blue, Jax takes a few bold steps toward you. Your gaze falls to his crotch on impulse, and it’s clear from the bulge in his jeans... he’s extremely well-hung. So damn thick. So damn long. So damn big it’s obscene. It’s not as if you’re shocked—Jax Teller always walked and talked like someone with a massive cock—but still, just seeing... is believing like fuck. Plus he’s hard as a rock.

“C’mon, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue...?” he taunts, not ashamed to whip out a ridiculous pussycat pun. It’s so painfully dumb, but when Jax Teller says it... you basically cum. He’s a devilish dick of a dom, and he loves to flaunt it. “Bet that pussy could use some tongue on it. I mean, if you’d want it.”

Oh Goddd—you cannottt... that shit is just too fucking much, to be honest.

Thankfully Captain Will is behind you to catch your full weight, as you literally start to faint. And the feel of his touch on your skin has you falling all over again. Your poor cunt is in pain. So horny it’s insane, short-circuiting your brain.

But you’re still wide awake and conscious, well aware of just how fucking bad you want this. Every man in the room.

Will reads your mind, now as he holds you from behind. Chuckles sadistically against your ear and it’s fucking divine. “Mmm, maybe if we make her cum... then her brain will be able to function and send us all home.”

“To hell with going home,” Arthur mutters, clearly turned on at the sight of you all hot and bothered. He may be nobler than the others, but he was brought up in a brothel after all and has never denied where he came from. “I swear there’s no woman so fair in all my kingdom...”

“Nor in my dimension,” Ray seconds. “Y/N—ever since we stepped in, I’ve been dying to mention that you are delightfully hot.”

Raleigh smolders, tension in his beefy broad shoulders. The king and the gentleman... aren’t they supposed to be decent like him? Now apparently they just forgot?... “But I thought—”

The President abruptly interrupts. While Will surrounds you from behind, blowing your mind, Jax comes up front. Fucking you up, his words setting a bomb off in your cunt. “Y/N just has to tell us what we all already know she wants.”

And then somehow, you finally summon the words to your filthy whore mouth. Still unable to fathom how you got so lucky. There’s only one way to respond—so you say it now. Say it loud, slutty and proud. “I want... I want you all to fuck me. All at once.”

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

.

.

.

And so it goes.

You and five versions of Charlie Hunnam, all here in your room, are all ready to burst and give in to your dirtiest thirsts.

First things first: you need Jax Teller’s cock in your throat, and he already knows. He can tell, all too well—and he smirks, hot as hell, because he is the worst. You’ve been so fucking eager to suck off this fictional character ever since you started watching his show.

Now he’s not at all fictional, though. You still cannot believe this is real, and just how good it feels... to know just what’s in store, as you give into all of your instincts to kneel, sinking fast to the floor... that you are actually about to blow the President of SAMCRO.

“Mmm...” the tall blonde biker hums, clearly pleased, as he watches you fall to your knees, reaching now to rip open his jeans like a cheap fucking whore. Jax’s cocksucking hoe. “There we go. Look at that slutty little mouth of yours. Go on and show me what it’s good for.”

Fuck yes, sir. But you’re too breathless now to use your words to answer, as Jax Fucking Teller’s cock is out, so big and hard and proud... a goddamn pillar of perfection...

And you are not about to waste a second, worshiping the President’s erection with your filthy little mouth.

“Unghhh....” he grunts, as you set to work right at once. The sound of his guttural groan starts a flood in your cunt, soaking up while you slobber all over his dick, focusing on the tip. Servicing him with your tongue and lips, loving it more with each lick. Slurping up every sweet drop of precum as it drips.

He is so delicious. You could go on forever like this, as if you and Jax are the only two souls who exist. But you’re not—and the fact that four other versions of the same man are watching right here in this room... just the thought, of five shades of Hunnam, five flavors of your favorite sex god... is so fucking hot.

The truth is that they’re not just here to watch, while you bury your face in Jax’s crotch. They’re here to touch. They’re here to fuck. They know that you want all five of their cocks. You’ve never wanted anything so much.

And just your luck... they want you too. These five versions of Charlie are incredibly turned on by you, though it seems too good to be true.

All of a sudden, you feel hands upon your skin as someone hoists you off the floor. King Arthur has just set aside his sword, stripped off his shirt—oh God, his chiseled muscles are so hot, so hard it hurts—and flings you easily over his shoulder like a little fucktoy whore.

“The fuck—” the President protests as your mouth slips off of his cock, with a loud pop, once the king swiftly lifts you up. Jax was not at all set for this blowjob to stop. He wants more of this mind-blowing head. “What the... I wasn’t done yet...”

“Did you not hear what Y/N said?” Arthur reminds him, as he carries you across the room and throws you down onto the bed. The way he effortlessly handles you like that... you’ve never been so wet. “The lady wants all five of us at once. You took that pretty little mouth of hers—such a sweet hole to fuck—but there are others. Now it’s time for her to take a royal cock. Give her exactly what she wants. I’m gonna lay claim to her cunt.”

Then he attacks you with a fierce animalistic grunt, tearing his leather pants away to free his meat, and ripping off your clothes as well to make sure that you feel all of his heat. His feral dominance is everything you need. The way he grabs and gropes your tits, with one of his hands... while the other reaches down to stroke your clit... holy fucking shit. You seriously can’t. It’s more than you can stand.

“You think you own that cunt?” Jax comes to butt in, all of a sudden. “Think just ‘cause you’re king you can do what you want? Well, think again. I said I wasn’t done.”

The President then reaches right under Arthur, before things can go any farther. Grabs you by the shoulders to pull you up into a better position. Like every inch of you belongs to him.

Both of these men are just manhandling you at their whim, and it feels like heaven to be sinking into such a state of submission.

The king of England and the king of Charming end up grappling for dominance for a few moments, until their struggle is cut short by a quick interruption: the captain. He’s sick of this childish behavior from them. No matter the problem, Will Ironhead Miller can always propose an efficient solution.

“Cut the bullshit—it’s not rocket science, you idiots,” he says as he tells the men how to best handle their business. “Look: Y/N sits on the king’s cock, then biker boy stands at the side of the bed, so that she can lean over and give him head.”

His suggestion is met with a pause.

Jax is first to break it, while you lie on the bed wet and naked. Glaring alpha male daggers at Ironhead, chest proud and puffed. “What, you think you’re the boss?” he indignantly scoffs.

Arthur huffs, his own ego a little bruised too. But then poses the question to you, his voice all at once tender yet rough. “That sound good to you, love?”

You cannot help but swoon at the word he just called you. How is it he’s so fucking hot, yet so cute...? Your head bobs in a dumb speechless nod; it’s the most you can do.

“Yeah, ‘course it does,” the captain confidently gloats, as you settle into the perfect position that he had proposed. Take the king in your cunt and the President deep in your throat. “Just what she loves. Dick in her mouth and her pussy. Especially because this leaves her pretty little ass ready for me.”

You could honestly die at the thought—that sounds painfully hot...?!? And so dirty... you’ve never once taken two dicks in two holes, let alone three in three... but goddamn do these men make you thirsty.

The second you sit down on King Arthur’s cock... your world is fucking rocked. He’s so epically big—just the same size as Jax’s enormous dick—speaking of which, you go straight back to being the President’s cocksucking bitch. Jax grabs you by the head from where he is standing at the side of the bed, fingers tangling in your messy hair as he feeds you his huge cock to suck. Your face will always be his to fuck.

And you still can’t get over your luck.

“Such a good little cockslut,” Jax snickers at you as he swiftly shrugs out of his kutte. Then the flannel beneath, knowing that looking up at his broad sculpted chest and his firm rippled abs is exactly what you want and need. You take his dick deeper this time around, gagging on his massive meat, gulping every inch down, and he’s so long and thick that it feels like your jaw fucking broke.

It feels so goddamn good to get wrecked, especially now with the words he says next. “You like the way I own this filthy little throat? God, you’re filthy as fuck. Taking my dick so good. Bet you can’t wait to swallow my load. That’s it, slut. Suck that cock till you choke.”

His dirty talk is so hot you can’t even cope. You used to imagine it back when you were just a fan of his show—now it’s actually happening though, and it’s more than your inner fangirl ever hoped.

And of course, it’s the instant your eyes roll back into your head, as both Arthur and Jax fuck you up on your bed, till you’re ready to burst... that the captain decides to step in and take full control, over another hole. If you thought taking two cocks at once was already the best and the worst, nothing could have prepared you for taking a third.

But the truth is you love how it hurts.

Having Jax Teller fucking your facehole all sloppy and juicy, while King Arthur slams his royal scepter into your soaking wet pussy, and Will Miller shoves his brutally big dick in your tight little ass, taking your cheeks in his tight grasp and dishing out punishing slaps... it feels like all your dreams are coming true at last. Literally cumming true at that. God, it feels so fucking good to be so fucking bad. It’s by far the best sex you have ever had. Satisfying all your sluttiest thirsts.

And as if shit could get any hotter... you’d almost forgotten that there are two others.

Two other equally beautiful versions of Charlie: the savage yet soft-spoken gentleman Ray, and the soft-hearted fighter pilot Raleigh.

You don’t even have enough holes in your body for all of them. Not sure whether and how you can handle another two Hunnams. But hot damn are you happy to tackle that problem.

As Jax and Will and Arthur keep railing you harder, filling you in every way you want... you hear another voice from nearby in the room. All at once cool and classy, yet naughty and nasty. It has to be Raymond. “Well now, who knew that this lovely woman... would turn out to be such a kinky fucking cunt.”

Ughh, fuck—you moan desperately all around Jax’s cock, the only way that you can respond. Who knew? No one. You didn’t even know it, till this moment. But now all five shades of Hunnam do. Their presence in your room has definitely brought it out of you.

At the gentleman’s words, the President flashes a smile and a sadistic little chuckle. All the while keeps on ruthlessly ravaging your filthy little fuckhole. Driving his dick into the back of your throat till it hurts. Till your slobbering tongue and your bottom lip smush up against his big balls. Addresses Ray as well as Raleigh, who is standing quietly along the far wall. “Tough luck for you all, but this bitch is fucking full. Too bad she’s only got three holes...”

“She’s got two hands, though,” Ray points out, coming toward you now, his footsteps so deliberate and slow. “What do you all reckon they’re good for...?”

Oh, good Lord...

“Stroking? Squeezing...?” he asks, reaching to take one of your hands in his dominant grasp. Wrapping your fingers tight around his throbbing shaft. You cannot even anymore. Just cannot even... “Mmm, it seems to me that Y/N summoned up five Hunnams for a reason. To be used up like a proper fucking whore.”

Three cocks have swiftly turned to four, and you can feel poor Raleigh bolting toward the door. This filthy business goes against his soft, pure heart. He’s never witnessed—let alone dared to take part—in such a hardcore pornographic scene as this...

But here he is. And can’t deny that he’s rock fucking hard, as you can tell from one quick glance, out of the corner of your eye, at the massive bulge in his military pants. And you’ll be damned before you let that pretty boy pilot escape from this. He fucking can’t. You need two cocks in your two hands.

“Don’t pussy out on us like that,” Will masterfully commands, beckoning Becket toward the bed. “You know we’re all just Y/N’s guests; this is her universe. So we’re just... here to satisfy her thirsts.”

And then he grabs hold of your shoulders, to anchor himself as his thrusts in your ass become faster and bolder, which ends up pushing your head deeper down in Jax’s crotch. Slamming into you like it’s his job. And it’s too fucking much. Fucking you the fuck up.

But you don’t ever want it to stop.

Raleigh seems reluctant to abide by Will’s orders. But something compels him to do as the captain said—come toward the bed, like a good little soldier. “You guys are the worst...”

“No, far from that,” Arthur replies with a filthy laugh, as he keeps on splitting your wet pussy in half with his majestic staff. “This may look bad, but how it feels...? Fucking unreal. Quite honestly the fucking best.”

Oh God fuck yes...

You can sense Raleigh coming closer toward the bed with timid steps. Can feel his captivated blue gaze watch your body as it bounces on the mattress. You’ve lost track of who’s thrusting the hardest, the fastest. It’s all just a beautiful big fucking mess...

“Now let’s see if the fifth cock is as big as all the rest,” Jax playfully suggests. “See if this dirty little slut can take us all at once. Just like she wants. Let’s put our fucktoy to the test.”

“Fine, if you all insist,” the pilot yields at last. “But only ‘cause she wants it. Honest.”

“Just shut up and let her get her hands on it,” Raymond grunts, frustrated and impatient, until Raleigh finally gets in position.

And once it happens—once you wrap your fist around his rock hard cock, getting completely fucked, by five versions of Hunnam all at once... it’s even better than you had ever imagined.

You eagerly jerk both men off, all while the other three keep ravaging you good and hard and rough. You feel so full, in all your holes, and more, down to your deepest core. Your inner whore. This is exactly what you live for, what you love. And you won’t ever get enough.

By the time all five Hunnams are ready to soak you in their fucking cum—which happens at the same time for all of them, since apparently they’re somehow in unison, being all versions of the same person from different dimensions... by the time that happens, you’ve already lost count of your own orgasms.

This whole session, for your slutty ass, has just felt like one epic extended climax. Will and Arthur pounding into you in a perfect rhythm, from the front and the back, while you jack off Raleigh and Ray, all while gagging on Jax... you could do this all day every day. And there’s no other way for your body and soul to react.

You’re nothing but a fucktoy for five shades of Hunnam and that is a fact.

As the three sex gods buried balls deep in your holes fill them up so deliciously full, the other two drop their loads all over the cheeks of your ass and the curve of your back. And you’re having an absolute heart attack. How is a mere mortal bitch supposed to survive this...? Your brain is blown to bits. At this point it’s an actual struggle to even exist.

But you’re a shameless whore, just desperate for another hit. For fucking more. Of all the countless possibilities of five versions of Charlie in your three holes and two hands... all you want is to try literally every combination, and then once you’re done, just repeat them again and again and again.

It is literally raining men. Not just any men—five incarnations of your fucking sex god obsession. All five of them are living breathing perfection. Wrecking you till it hurts, till you burst, fulfilling all your thirst, in every way from every direction.

So maybe eventually you’ll have to send them back to their respective dimensions...

... But till then? You will sure as hell make the most of this mind-blowing multiverse blessing. Maybe if the sex keeps on being this epic they won’t even dream of leaving. Just won’t even...

And you’ll be more than happy to host them forever in this dimension. Can’t imagine any damn thing better than five incarnations of Charlie, right here fucking you in your bedroom. Because honestly, five shades of Hunnam... are five shades of heaven.

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

Okayyyyy so I know this was FUCKING INSANE FILTHY SHIT but I hope there are some kinky bitches out there who enjoyed it! And would love to hear if you did!! 🤪

– Main Masterlist

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Additional Tags for this specific fic (readers who commented on Part 1 but aren’t on the kinkfest tag list)

@happylittlepuppydog @starbooty @bmstolemyswag

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. Are death gods like a class lower than Olympian gods? Minthe says that Hades can buy all the suits in the world and still stink of death and Apollo refers to Thanatos as Poor Man’s Heremes and also reeks of death. Do they smell bad, or do people just hate them for existing? You’d think they’d be a little more fear controlling death/underworld

2. for the person saying "come on, persephone being a self insert isn't bad" completely misses the point.  As a young writer I used to have self inserts until I realized that my favoritism overshadowed the narrative and didn't allow for my characters to experience consequences or be in the wrong.  This is how creator's pets get made, and no one likes those because they ruin the story and take away attention from other (more interesting) characters!  (1/2) 

We are clearly seeing this in LO.  Persephone is essentially a perfect little goddess who keeps getting powers, is probably going to be revealed as one of the strongest goddesses, and her issues (sans the two giant ones we know what it is) almost never personally affect her.  No one gets angry at her in a meaningful way unless the narrative wants us to demonize them, and when they suddenly "see the light" and go to her side, they're rewarded!  THAT'S why persephone as a S.I is bad

3. Ok. I think Daphene and Thanatos are the best ship. I would read this story...also,Thanatos is the grim reaper...how metal would be if he take down LO Apollo and LO Hades? Yes, I'm aware this would be impossible in the.original myths but HEY why not? RS is not caring for the source material

4. RS’s writing is such a mess of contradictions between actuality and intent it’s hilarious: 1) Hades is supposed to be seen as a good guy yet is portrayed as a tyrant who somehow still manages to be a Gary Stu. 2) Persephone is simultaneously overpowered (fertility goddess powers) and powerless (is just a college kid) to the point where she’s viewed as a spoiled rich brat living consequence-free and destitute young woman left with no options but to marry to get out of trouble 

3) Artemis is supposed to represent a separatist feminist yet is depicted as foolish, British and out of the loop for humorous effect by the poss poor excuse of a comic which calls itself ‘a feminist feeling’. 4) The lack of time skips coupled with RS’s need to give HxP as many ‘cute’ moments as possible makes the comic’s progress feel slow for the reader when it’s actually progressing at breakneck speed if you go by the character’s timeframe. 

5) Wants to treat SA with nuance and sensitivity (RS almost manages to do it at first) but then uses Persephone’s rape as trauma porn, a means for pushing her closer to Hades while reminding the reader of his differences from Apollo and a means of furthering the side plots (Artemis’s descent into depressed confusion, Eros and Psyche’s romance, Hera’s quest to get the mains together).

5. i genuinely do not want to see whatever reason rachel thinks up to have zeus and demeter not like each other because it's either going to be a "shock" incest twist (unlikely) or it's going to be something akin to how she made apollo to persephone and maybe zeus stole her "fertility" and thats why she couldnt have persephone naturally and why demeter isnt a fertility goddess but persephone is. like no writing choice is good in this so i guess brace for the worst from her in this regard.

6. i honestly get sad looking at old LO art because not only is all the charm gone, but the colors also got way worse. hades used to be this subdued, rich dark blue with icy blue hair while persephone was a nice shade of pastel pink with magenta hair, but now theyre all one shade of neon. there used to be choices put into the art but now its just lazy. like hades looks like a blue highlighter, and persephone like her personality is only one nauseatingly bright shade and thats it 😞

7. i feel like if at least the writing in LO was good the art would excusable, you know what i mean? and the same can be said in reverse, but both are just so bad (or was never good to begin with) that it just seems inexcusable? like at least put effort into one, not half assing at best for both.

8. i mean for all we know bc thats how how psyche normally looks the braids are just a nymph disguise that basically pops away once shes human looking again. regardless the whole thing is nasty once you think about it and idk what we expected from a white woman to begin with. she thinks persephone revolving her whole world and being dependent on hades is feminist and making a canon bi god a r//pist is groundbreaking too like ....

9. lets add to the psyche is black-coded discourse: anyone want to mention how nasty it is she was literally sold off to a WHITE MAN for eros to save her from (ignoring the fact he proceeded to lie to her while having a sexual relationship), made her loving parents into abusive assholes, and psyche just happens to be the only character who is illiterate despite being a princess? the whole thing reeks of internalized racism on rachel's part, and her now giving her braids kinda makes it worse, tbh. 

-----FP Spoilers-----

10. Is it me? Or in the fast past episode were they showed one of the muses Polymnia (or Polyhymnia)  they mixed her with Clio??? Because Zeus calls her "the goddess/muse of history" but Polymnia is acutally the muse of hymns, CLIO is the muse of history, how did they get that wrong? Her name literally means "a lot of hymns"! And why is there a muse in this??? Even she says that she shouldn't be there because she doesn't work in anything similar to law, did Zeus really asked her to make a POEM in a TRAIAL??? For what exactly? Make Persephone look bad?

[andypantsx3]

if i could keep cool | 5

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

You spent the rest of the weekend freaking out about how handsy you had been with Shouto.

Not only had you stuffed him into the hat and the sunglasses, not only had you curled tightly into his politely offered warmth, but then you’d literally held his hand the entire way to your apartment. You’d been too drunk to be self-conscious about what you’d been doing at the time, but once sober, you were embarrassed to realize you’d been clinging to him like some kind of beer-and-yakitori-filled limpet.

You kept replaying the whole walk home in your head, reviewing the absent way you’d played with his fingers, how you’d mused on how warm and large his hands were. Then he’d very obviously tried to offload you as quickly as he could at your door, insisting that you go inside when you continued to hang around him, and he’d literally pushed you inside at the end of it.

God, you could just die.

Shouto, for his part, seemed pretty unbothered by the whole thing. He texted you a couple times over the weekend, as if things were completely normal, but you still dreaded the moment that Tuesday rolled around.

How were you supposed to look him in the face after making such an obvious fool of yourself? How was he being so chill about things? Maybe he was just used to everyone in a thousand mile radius making an immediate mess of themselves for him. But still, it was embarrassing that you were one of them.

Tuesday evening did roll around, however, and soon enough you found yourself tentatively cracking open the door to his apartment. You sent up a silent prayer for him to not be home, but your hopes were immediately dashed when you caught sight of his lean form stretched out on his couch, a book in hand. His head raised when he heard the door, and a small smile curled his mouth when he caught sight of you.

Your heart thumped very deliberately in your chest as if to call attention to the fact that you were even more of a lovestruck idiot than you’d been willing to admit.

You tried to ignore your entire body and the way it felt like every fiber was waking up and bending towards him like flowers in the sun, stepping carefully through the door and closing it behind you. As you did, an appealing but unusual scent met your nose, and you glanced around in confusion. What looked suspiciously like cookware and spices littered his heretofore completely untouched countertops, and you felt an eyebrow raise. Was he...cooking?

“Something’s wrong,” you blurted immediately.

Those heterochromatic eyes snapped to your face and he leaned forward in concern. “What?”

“You’re cooking,” you said. “You’ve never cooked one single time the entire time I’ve worked here. Your countertops told me so.”

He let out a soft laugh, relaxing back into his couch. “There’s a first time for everything.”

You eyed him suspiciously. Was he okay? Had he been attacked or something? Was there such a thing as a villain with a quirk that made people cook things?

“What’s the occasion?” you asked carefully, watching him for any sign of a quirk’s influence.

He gestured you over to his living room and you went to him slowly. “I thought we’d hang out again.” He still pronounced the phrase like it sat uneasily in his mouth.

You stared at him. He wanted to hang out? “Shouto...but...my shift.”

He directed you to a chair across the coffee table from him. “I have to leave on a mission for a week tomorrow morning. I...wanted to spend time with you before I left.”

A weird mixture of concern and warmth washed over you. Okay, that was super cute, but that didn’t explain the complete absurdity of him suddenly reneging on what you strongly suspected was an unbroken streak of over two decades not cooking a single thing. Was the mission he was going on super dangerous? Did he think he wouldn’t come back from it? Was he crossing experiences off his bucket list before he went?

Your concern must have read on your face because he leaned forward, one cool hand taking yours. You almost jumped out of your skin with surprise.

“It’s not any more dangerous than my everyday work,” he said in that deep tone.

You frowned. That honestly wasn’t saying much, all things considered. His job literally involved fighting super villains.

“I just...thought it would be nice,” he said, and you thought you read a note of self-consciousness in his tone. You frowned.

What the hell did he have to be self-conscious about? He wasn’t the one who’d made a complete and utter fool of himself Friday night. You were honestly surprised he’d let you into his apartment at all, after what had happened.

But maybe...this was his way of telling you it didn’t matter? He was clearly making an effort to be nice--maybe he wanted to try again? If he really did, if that’s what this was really all about, then you could do that. And this time, you would keep your hands to yourself.

“What are you making?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Shouto leaned in conspiratorially. “Vegetables.”

You let out a shocked laugh. “No way.”

A small smirk pulled at his mouth. “I don’t know how you usually make yours, but a friend had some suggestions.”

You looked at him curiously and he pulled out his phone, clicking into a chat and sliding it across the coffee table to you.

You glanced down at the messages, one eyebrow lifting when you saw a series of really good-looking recipes featuring roasted fall vegetables, then choked on a laugh when you caught sight of the other messages interspersed between the recipe links.

Do you seriously not fucking know how to cook a vegetable, icy hot?

[Honey Roasted Carrots with Yogur…] > http://bit.ly/9iJZ5jt

Fucking useless.

[Grilled Zucchini and Feta Toasts w...] > http://bit.ly/8oKZ5jf

Here, dipshit: [Charred Vegetable Medley with Burrata…] > http://bit.ly/5oDF4fi

If you food poison her, I don’t give a shit.

Don’t text me again.

“These look really good, but, um,” you chuckled, “your secret lover seems a little displeased.”

Shouto’s mouth curled. “He’s the jealous type.”

You laughed. “And when he’s clearly the superior chef, with recipes like that. I talk a big vegetable game, but I can’t give you what he can.”

Shouto huffed a laugh. “Anger issues and insults?”

You grinned back at him, then jumped when a timer went off in the kitchen.

“Stay here,” Shouto commanded. A cool hand pressed you down into a chair, and then he was gone.

Your eyes followed him as he made his way to the kitchen, tracing over the lines of his broad shoulders. He’d chosen another soft sweater today and he looked so fucking good, so absurdly domestic as he pulled vegetables out of the oven and looked them over. It was clear he had no idea what he was doing, and that somehow made everything ten times cuter, the sight of him way too much for your poor heart to take.

He was too easy to picture as a boyfriend trying to do something sweet for his girlfriend, and your teeth ached with the thought of it. You wondered if this was how he was going to treat his lover, when he eventually got one for real. That girl was going to be so damn lucky, she had no idea.

Shouto wandered back over with plates loaded with vegetables, two wine glasses, and a bottle of something dark and red.

You eyed the bottle carefully. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t get handsy this time, and it was hard enough to keep your cool around him when you were sober. You didn’t know if you trusted yourself with a glass or two of wine in you.

“Uh, this looks really good,” you said, examining your plate for a distraction. It looked like Shouto had made every single one of the recipes Bakugou had sent him, and they honestly didn’t look too bad.

Shouto adopted a carefully blank look, like he was trying not to look too pleased. “We’ll see if that impression lasts. This is the first time any of my kitchenware has seen action.”

You laughed. “I trust you. Besides, I’m not hard to impress. In freshman year I once ate nothing but instant ramen for six weeks straight.”

He smirked and moved to pour the wine. You opened your mouth to stop him, lest you drink too much and get a little too hands on again, but you froze when you caught sight of the flowers at the center of his coffee table. The bouquet from Friday stared back at you.

Heat flared in your cheeks when you realized he’d kept it. The flowers definitely were not nice enough to fit in with the rest of his modern apartment, and the edges of the petals were looking a little more obviously wilted now, but he’d kept them. He’d found a vase and put them in water and set them out on his coffee table, and that was so embarrassing and so, so cute.

Shouto caught you looking. “I really did mean that I liked them,” he said evenly.

“I’ll get you something nicer,” you suddenly blurted, eyes still locked on the bouquet. “When you come back from your mission. If you come back safe.”

He looked at you curiously, eyes fixing on you unblinkingly. “You sound concerned.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yeah. I--” have the world’s fattest crush on you “--care about you.”

Shouto’s eyes darkened and he considered you for a long moment. “I care about you, too,” he admitted quietly.

You put a hand to your face to make sure it wasn’t actually on fire, and you leaned forward to help yourself to the wine so you didn’t have to look at him. Fuck it. You would just have to watch your hands extra carefully.

“So, uh, where’s the mission?” you asked hurriedly, suddenly desperate to move the conversation along. You needed to put a ton of words in between Shouto and what you’d just admitted, give him as little opportunity as possible to think in any more depth about what you’d said. It was cute that he’d returned the sentiment, but he did not mean it in the same way you did.

Shouto gave a vague answer, looking apologetic that he couldn’t share more, and your gut twisted at the idea that he’d be somewhere far away for over a week while you had no idea where he was. He looked uncomfortable with the idea as well, and you immediately steered the conversation back to more positive waters, starting up a stream of compliments over the vegetables that had turned out actually pretty good, especially for his first time cooking anything.

You had to stifle a laugh at how hard Shouto tried not to look smug.

As they always did, the hours slipped away easily with hardly any sign of their passing, and before you realized, it was well past when your shift was supposed to have ended. You and Shouto had talked yourselves almost all the way to midnight.

“I’ll help clean up before I go,” you announced, standing up and bringing plates into Shouto’s kitchen. He followed you closely, warm at your back.

“Let me,” he said quietly and you looked up at him, smiling.

“I literally came here to clean and then didn’t do shit,” you informed him. “Besides, you can’t clean up. You have to supervise to ensure the safety of your countertops, remember?”

He smirked. “How could I forget?”

You grinned and turned back to the sink, powering through all the dishes and stowing the leftovers away in tupperware. Shouto watched you hawkishly as you wiped down the counters, and you laughed.

“You can’t protect them from me while you’re gone,” you intoned, turning to him. “You might as well say your farewells now.”

His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to you. You took a step back in surprise, your hip bumping the counter.

“I seem to recall bribery works quite well,” he said, his voice dipping lower. Your skin prickled at the sound. “What would you have me offer this time?”

You stared up at him, fighting down a shiver. He must not have realized how close he’d stepped, but he was near enough that you could feel the heat of him and smell that cologne again, that clean scent that made your head spin. After a couple of glasses of wine, you were helpless to fight the way your eyes were drawn to his mouth. Every nerve ending in your body snapped to attention.

You leaned forward, feeling dazed. Then you froze when you realized what you were doing. Jesus Christ, you needed to be arrested.

“Uh, consider the vegetables payment enough,” you said quickly, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

Shouto watched you for a long moment with a strange little smile playing about his mouth, then stepped back, letting you go. You breathed a quiet sigh of relief while simultaneously mourning the loss of his proximity.

He turned and grabbed up the extra food to press into your hands, then called an agency car for you as he always did, and walked you down to the lobby of his building.

“Please stay safe,” you said to him as you lingered in the doorway, hating the way your voice sounded a little desperate.

He smiled, and before you knew what was happening, his arms went around you, pulling you into his chest. He was so warm and broad and hard with lean muscle, and he smelled so, so good. You couldn’t suppress your full body shiver.

“I’ll stay safe,” he said into your hair. “If you keep my countertops safe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh into his sweater. “It’s a deal.”

He kept you pressed to him for a few moments more, and you tried to be subtle about the lungfuls of air you were taking, the way you were memorizing the feel of him to replay over and over in your brain for the literal rest of your life. Eventually, one of the security officers coughed, and you jumped back, shame-faced.

“I’ll see you in a week,” Shouto promised.

You smiled. “See you in a week.”

Then you turned and walked to the car. You could feel a pair of eyes hot on your back, following you until the car pulled away and turned out into the night.

The rest of the week passed fairly uneventfully. You ate, slept, wrote a paper, and clocked in to your usual Thursday shift at Shouto’s apartment, trying not to feel too disappointed at how empty it felt without him there. He hadn’t told you much, but you had gathered that his assignment had taken him outside of the country, and this meant that you hadn’t received any texts from him in days.

You tried to keep yourself distracted all through the weekend, getting a leg up on all the finals work that was starting to pile up, putting in a ton of hours at the fancy coffee shop with your laptop and several americanos that were (to your fond exasperation) still completely paid for.

It was only when Monday rolled around that something went completely and utterly wrong, and not in any way that you would have ever expected.

When you walked into lecture that morning, you immediately felt like you were being watched. A quick check in your periphery confirmed that a couple groups of students were casting subtle glances in your direction, and excited whispers began to pick up around you. You quickly ran a hand over your face to see if you’d accidentally gotten toothpaste on yourself, and glanced down at your clothes to make sure no coffee had spilled.

Nothing came to your attention, so you settled into your seat, wondering.

Lecture passed slowly, and as the minutes ticked by, you felt more and more pairs of eyes fix themselves on you. When class ended, you watched in bemusement as everyone turned to watch you leave, and you launched yourself out of the room as fast as you could, heartbeat picking up.

What the hell was wrong with people?

Almost as soon as you’d managed to duck out of the building, your phone rang with an unknown number. You stared at it blankly, considering hanging up, but a feeling of foreboding pressed down on you with a sudden urgency. What if something had happened to Shouto?

“Y/N,” a woman on the other end of the line said briskly, as soon as you picked up. “This is Shouto’s manager.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, but before you could gasp out a question, she was talking to you urgently. “I need you to head home as quickly as possible, and don’t talk to anyone on your way.”

“What?” you asked wildly. “Is everything okay? Is Shouto hurt?”

“Shouto’s fine,” she said, then paused. “You haven’t seen the news, then.”

“No?” you frowned. A pair of passing girls stopped short when they caught sight of you, and your sense of confusion magnified twofold.

“You’ve been outed as Shouto’s secret lover,” his manager sighed.

Your heart stopped. What?

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“Someone got a couple shots of you on your date the other week, and a few more in the lobby of his building,” she explained. “That, and you match the description of the woman the villain took from his apartment when he’d claimed to take Shouto’s lover hostage. News outlets will be tracking you down any minute.”

You glanced up, only to find the entire walkway of students frozen, watching you. Your eyes widened and you quickly turned on your heel, picking up into a brisk jog towards your apartment.

“It wasn’t a date though!” you hissed into the phone, anxiety washing over you. “It’s not--they can’t think that Shouto would--with me--!”

Shouto’s manager made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Whether you are or aren’t, it certainly looks like you are,” she paused for a long time, then added somewhat hesitantly, “And as soon as you get home, I need you to delete your twitter account.”

Your limbs iced over. Oh fucking hell--she’d found your twitter account? You launched yourself into a faster run, tearing down the city blocks towards your apartment.

“Oh my god, how did you--? When did--? I am so dead if anyone finds that,” you puffed as you ran, “Has anyone else found it yet or just you?”

“Not yet. It will take the media a few hours to track down all of your information but, having reviewed the contents myself, I think it’s safe to say you’ll want it removed.”

You cringed. You didn’t know how she’d found it, but you hated to think of Shouto finding out exactly what was on there. You hoped she kept things to herself.

“I’ll delete it,” you promised as you rounded the corner into your neighborhood, ignoring the stitch that was making itself known in your side. You needed to hit the gym more. “But what do I do about the secret lover thing? They can’t think that Shouto would actually date me.”

“You do nothing,” she commanded, a pit formed in your gut. “We’ll ignore it, and eventually they will lose interest.”

Your stomach churned. It had already been months since the kidnapping and they clearly hadn’t lost interest yet. You hated to think of Shouto trapped in an even more vicious cycle of gossip all because you couldn’t keep your damn hands to yourself. God, what the hell had you gotten him into?

“That’s not fair to him,” you said, slowing to a walk when you saw a crowd of people lingering around your apartment. You picked up several cameras, and your insides twisted nervously when you realized what was going on. They’d already found your apartment.

“Shouto’s a big boy, he can handle himself,” his manager explained, but you heard her only dimly, as if through water. A plan was suddenly forming in the back of your mind as you considered the crowds milling outside of your apartment. “We’ll come up with a plan later, and--”

“No,” you said, biting your lip nervously. “I think I--I think I know what I can do. I’ll just tell everyone the truth and then they’ll leave him alone.”

"Absolutely not," Shouto's manager said, sounding weirdly like your mom just before she was about to ground you. "You have no experience with the media, they will eat you alive."

You considered this. "But what harm is there in just telling the truth? It's not like you have to have experience for that."

"No," she said, like that would settle things. But you just watched the swarm of people, the feeling getting stronger. You'd gotten kidnapped, you'd suggested the izakaya, you'd held his hand. Shouto was in this situation because of you, whether you were to blame or not. You had to fix things.

“Y/N,” his manager called from the other end of the line, but you weren’t listening. You quickly ended the call, then logged into twitter, clicking into settings and immediately hitting delete on your account. You would not survive if the entire world found out just how thirsty you were for the man you were about to set the record straight on. You ran a quick hand through your hair, making sure that you didn’t look completely embarrassing, and straightened out your clothes.

Then, squaring your shoulders, you walked up to your building.

Immediately, you were swarmed with cameras, all manner of microphones ramming you in the chin and elbows.

“Y/N,” a woman shouted, her eyes bright with excitement, “How does it feel to be Shouto Todoroki’s secret lover? Why did you hide your relationship for so long?”

You’d anticipated the question, but you still couldn’t help the way you stared at her. “Um, I’m not sure if I’m qualified to answer that. We’re not, um--it’s not like that.”

Wow it was hard to talk in front of a camera. Your face heated.

She seemed to ignore you. “Why have the two of you been spotted together on multiple occasions, holding hands and hugging? You seem fairly close to me.”

You cringed. “T-that’s my fault. I drank a little too much and Shouto was helping me home. The hug was just between friends.”

“Todoroki took you home when you were drunk? Did anything happen?”

You gawped. “No, of course not! What are you--? Are you kidding me?”

“A man takes a woman home late at night, and you insist nothing happened?”

Your temper flared. You didn’t like the things she was insinuating about Shouto, and it was already embarrassing enough that nothing had actually happened. He all but thrown you inside to get away from you.

“No,” you said acidly, “It’s not like that for him. Shouto doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“And yet he was holding your hand?” the woman prompted.

Was this a fucking jury trial? Why the hell did she have so many questions? The words bubbled up out of your throat before you could stop them.

“No, I told you it’s not like that! Shouto has zero feelings for me and he was just being nice. If you want a story, you’re going to have to look elsewhere because there is no way on earth Shouto Todoroki would so much as glance in my direction, and he shouldn’t be put on trial for things that a drunk friend did. If Shouto has a secret lover, then that’s news to me too.”

The woman paused, then a grin spread across her face. “You say Todoroki has no feelings for you, but I notice you’ve not made the same claim. Could this instead be a case of unrequited love? Tell me, do you have feelings for a certain pro hero?”

It was a testament to how overwhelmed you were feeling, how much your brain was spinning, how unequipped you had come to lie, how completely and utterly stupid it was for you to have done this in the first place that the words that came out of your mouth next were not “no,” were not “are you kidding,” were not anything that gave you the safety of plausible deniability.

Instead, you opened your mouth, and in a move that would make you cringe until the literal day you died, you said: “Uh--wouldn’t you?”

[whythinktoomuch]

Something’s wrong. 

Kara can tell the moment she steps into Andrea’s office because Andrea’s avoiding her gaze. And pacing. And fidgeting, meticulously tugging at her own fingers before dropping her hands away altogether with a sharp exhale. 

Andrea was uncertain and nervous, her entire body riddled with unease, and something so clearly had to be wrong. 

“What is it? What happened?” Kara hisses, her shoulders already squaring, ready to be draped by a red cape at a moment’s notice. 

Andrea’s cheeks swiftly lose all color and her heart starts pattering just a tiny bit faster, but her scoff sounds just as natural as ever when she says, “Nothing happened, Kara.” 

“Okay...” Kara crosses her arms, her frown unassuming though unconvinced. “Why did you call me in here then?” 

A darkened scowl tugs at Andrea’s sharp features, her jaw clenching tight and determined. But the moment quickly passes without consequence, and Andrea’s shoulders eventually drop, and she draws back every so slightly. “Just... wanted to make sure you were working.” 

Kara stares, bewildered. “Well, I was.” 

“Good,” Andrea says flatly. “Get back to it then.” 

“All right,” Kara says, her abject curiosity thoroughly unsatisfied. “I’ll go do that.” 

She can feel Andrea’s stare burning a hole into her back as she leaves the office. 

—

Kara notices her right away. It’s impossible not to, even with her senses slightly dulled by the pleasant buzz that could only come from consuming an exorbitant amount of Chinese food in one sitting. 

The sight is unexpected, but not unwelcome, and there’s no point in trying to convince her heart otherwise. So, even though she shouldn’t, Kara can’t help herself as she bursts into Andrea’s office, her heart thundering and stuttering in her ears in equal measure. 

“What are you doing here?” she demands, the question cutting through the air, sharp and splintering.  

Lena barely looks up, hands still carelessly sifting through the various documents spread across Andrea’s desk, her expression somehow bored. As if she had any right to be there. To disrupt Kara’s entire life with a simple look. “What does it look like I’m doing?” 

“Andrea’s not here,” Kara informs her coldly, and Lena just rolls her eyes so heavily, never pausing in her task. And, well, it’s unfair. “Lena, you can’t just—”

“Really?” Andrea’s clipped tone rings out as she stomps into the room. “You’re just going to show up like you—what—own the place?” 

Lena flashes a smirk, her shrug small yet utterly self-satisfied. “Well, you weren’t exactly answering my calls, babe.” 

Andrea’s scowl deepens considerably. “Get out.” 

“Fine...” Lena sighs, tucking a small flashdrive into her pocket. “Already found what I came for anyway.” 

She saunters out, but not without throwing one last look over her shoulder. A frown, apparently, for Kara’s benefit. Her eyebrow raised in such a pointed fashion that it must mean something. 

It twists at Kara’s stomach, already swirling unhappily in the wake of Lena’s perfume. 

Kara quickly glances back at Andrea, who was now taking her seat at her desk with a weary sigh. “Was that something important? Do you need me to get it back for you?” 

“It’s fine,” Andrea says, waving her hand dismissively. “You can go too.” 

Kara blinks, taken aback. “Andrea, I work for you, so if you need me to—”

“Yes! You do,” Andrea all but snaps, cutting Kara off with an icy glare. “And I’m telling you to get out of my office.” 

After a prolonged, teetering moment of holding her tongue, Kara just shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re the boss,” she mutters, fastidiously reminding herself to not slam the door on her way out. 

//

It’s been a long day of putting out literal fires all over downtown for Supergirl, and Kara’s tired, covered head to toe in soot, and in desperate need of a hot shower and a warm bed. And so, it’s only natural that she hears a bona fide emergency unfolding on her way home. 

The unsavory combination of a distinct click of a hammer being pulled back and a panicked wait! has Kara hurtling straight for L-Corp without a second thought. Within seconds, she has her cape thrown up and over Andrea’s trembling form, bullets ricocheting uselessly off the heavy fabric. 

Tugging Andrea close to her chest, Kara throws her cape aside in a sharp flourish, and blows out a gust of freeze breath that scatters the gunmen like veritable dominoes. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kara can’t help but demand, her tone verging on the more exasperated side of incredulity. “Why are you snooping around Lena’s office?” 

Andrea snorts. “I wasn’t snooping,” she says in a slight sneer, and the wave of whiskey hits Kara as a solid wall of sickly sweet because, oh, Andrea was so very clearly and oh so thoroughly drunk. “I was just... well, it doesn’t matter. Just let go of me.” 

Kara backs off, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Lena right now, but whatever it is, you need to fix it. Fast. Because it almost got you killed tonight.” 

“They weren’t after me,” Andrea says, rolling her eyes. “They were after Lena. I just happened to be here, and well, collateral damage, I suppose.” 

“But you would have died just the same. How are you not getting that? You could have died, Andrea, and—” 

“Stop,” Andrea snaps, her eyes wild, yet terribly, terribly focused. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not some pathetic damsel in distress like your precious little Lena. I don’t need—”

The next thing Kara knew, Andrea’s staring up at her, mouth slightly agape, her delicate wrist somehow encased in Kara’s tight grasp. “Never... talk about Lena like that,” she gets out between painfully gritted teeth, and Andrea’s breath falters in a half-hearted scoff. “She’s a friend. Mine and yours, and she’s the most...” 

A pained whimper tumbles from Andrea’s lips and stops Kara cold, and she promptly snatches her hand back, cheeks burning furiously in realization and shame. 

Andrea rubs at her wrist, where Kara’s grip remains readily apparent, an inexcusable brand of angry pink and slight bruising. “A friend,” she repeats, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Right.” 

“I’m sorry...” Kara reaches out instinctively, her heart sinking with heavy regret, but Andrea flinches away from her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you...” She sighs and backs off even more with a ducked head. “Listen, just go home, okay? Take care of yourself.” 

With one last apologetic nod, Kara grabs the pair of still unconscious, would-be assassins by their shirt collars and takes off into the air, desperately fighting off the inevitable guilt still hanging over her as she flies over to the nearest police station. 

// 

When she hears the persistent knock at her door, Kara wastes no time super-speeding out of her bed and right to the door in question. Because it’s practically four in the morning, and anyone knocking at her door at four in the morning has to be having an emergency of some sort or another. 

But even so, it comes as a complete shock when Andrea ends up being the person standing on the other side of the door. 

“Andrea?” Kara blinks, the exhaustion slipping off her bones as bewilderment settles in its stead. But Andrea hardly seems to notice, shoving her way into Kara’s apartment like she belongs there. “... How did you know where I live?” 

“What the hell is your deal with Lena?” Andrea says, whirling around in a fury, and it’s immediately evident that she was somehow even drunker now than she had been at L-Corp. “Why are you so fucking obsessed with her anyway?” 

Kara’s jaw drops in outright disbelief. “I—ex-cuse me?” she sputters out. “You show up to my house in the middle of the night to interrogate me about Lena, and I’m the one obsessed with her?” 

“You’re changing the subject,” Andrea says, words sliding out of her mouth careless and slurred. “I’m just asking a simple little question, and all I need is a simple little answer, so if you would just please get—”

“It’s none of your business.” 

Andrea blinks. Then blinks again. Then stares. 

“It’s... none of your business how I feel about Lena,” Kara says with a defiant shrug. “Or anything about us really, okay? Just try to focus on your own issues with her, and stop making everything so messy and complicated.” She then shakes her head, sighing. “This is all highly inappropriate, by the way. You’re my boss, Andrea. You can’t be drunkenly berating me about personal matters like this. Like, at my apartment? This late?” 

“So, you meant it then?” Andrea asks softly. 

“Meant... what?” 

“What were you going to say?” Andrea asks instead, now tugging at her sleeve, rubbing insistently at the imprint that Kara’s hand had left around her wrist. “Before you stopped yourself, what were you going to say about Lena?” 

Kara’s stomach drops, the implications behind Andrea’s simple line of questioning striking her where she stands, where she lives. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about...” She goes to adjust her glasses, but her hand closes around empty air, and Kara’s already made so many mistakes today since getting out of bed this morning, and yet somehow, it seems that she’s made even more just in the last five minutes. 

“Don’t be like that,” Andrea says, pressing closer, looking up at Kara so earnestly that Kara’s ears start to burn, as if in solidarity. “Just tell me.” 

Kara forces a laugh, eyes darting helplessly around her sparse living room. “She’s just... really important to me, okay? Happy now?” 

“Even with everything going on between you two?” 

“Well, yeah. Nothing’s ever going to change how I feel about—”

Kara’s cut off as Andrea’s lips crash against hers. 

All higher brain function snuffs out, and Kara freezes in place. She can barely process the firm press of Andrea’s mouth, soft lips moving against her own slowly yet insistently, the bittersweet taste of whiskey spreading across her tongue... 

Then Kara grabs Andrea’s shoulders, shoving her at arm’s length with a strangled gasp. “What are you doing? You can’t—Andrea, you’re drunk!” 

“I’m... not.” Andrea sighs, almost resigned, and Kara could almost laugh out of sheer incredulity. Or maybe hysteria. Perhaps both. 

“Um, yes, you are. I can literally taste the whiskey off your breath,” Kara says, before abruptly coughing and shaking her head. “I mean, smell. I can smell the... you know, the whiskey...” 

“No,” Andrea growls, her eyes growing sharp, alert. “I’m not... Andrea.” 

Kara takes a step back, her entire face scrunching into a deeply perplexed frown. 

She studies the face staring back at her. The sharp features, the pouting red lips and the jagged scar across the brow, all deeply familiar and completely at odds with the assertion that had just spilled forth from those very same lips. 

But Kara wills herself to look harder, to look past the obvious, and meets the insistent gaze before her head-on. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest, somehow recognizing the eyes before her brain can even catch up. 

They’re the wrong color, but it’s the very same softened expression that had accompanied the words that still drift into Kara’s awareness at the most inconvenient moments. 

I know you believe that everything is good...

Kara swallows hard.

And kind...

She blinks and shakes her head, but it clears up absolutely nothing for her. 

And that is one of the things I love about you. 

Kara holds her breath, and dares to venture, to believe, to hope. 

“... Lena?”

[peach-the-owl]

Hello! Can I request a Vox machina and Mighty Nein child reader where the reader gets killed and revived? Thank you!!

Hi! Thank you so so much for the suggestion, not gonna lie it was a bit tricky to write because it’s a tough subject to nail… also I may have cried a little making this, but after looking through the tears at the results I’d say it turned out pretty good 😁

No, I will not apologize for the length… Enjoy!

Dancing with Death

Vox Machina, Mighty Nein & Child!Reader

Warnings: Death (I mean it’s in the ask and title so it should be obvious, I guess), may get a slight bit graphic

Vox Machina

Go in, investigate, kill some demons, get out. That’s what you were supposed to do, sure you knew it wasn’t going to be the easiest task but you didn’t expect to see Vecna himself make an appearance. The twisted archlich taunted the party as you all fight off the demons as best as possible while simultaneously thinking of a way to escape. Too focused on not getting hit you didn’t see the devious look that crossed his features when his sights set on you. You fight off enemies as best as your abilities would let you until you find yourself face to face with Vecna, a icy chill running through you as he stared you down. That icy chill becomes more literal when he grabs you by the neck and lifts you into the air, you gasp in shock as you dangle helplessly, still struggling to free yourself, his grip only getting tighter, slowly cutting off your air intake. Everything was going hazing from your lack of oxygen, you felt the cold touch of his hand around your neck, the pain increasing from said cold, you heard what sounded like distant screams or maybe cries of your name, you weren’t entirely sure, there was a sudden pop in your neck alongside a brief second of sharp pain then… nothing.

You find yourself sitting somewhere dark, legs brought up to your chest as you hug them closer to you. Looking around this darkness stretched on and on, with no end in sight. Where were you? What just happened? You felt very confused until you saw the only other figure with you in this dark void. A tall, slender feminine figure stands before you, a dark cloak flowing down her shoulders and a simple porcelain mask covering her face, a hauntingly beautiful sight to say the least. You tilt your head to the side as you stare up at her, trying to wrap your head around what was going on and why she seemed familiar. To your surprise she copies you and tilts her own head to the side, although hers was more subtle, you then tilt your head to the other side and again she copies you, earning a small giggle out of you.

"Wow, you’re really pretty." You, finally finding words, say without much thought, you mind still not fully grasping the situation at hand. She lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment and gives a small bow to you before straightening herself upright again. At this point it’s starting to click why she was familiar, your eyes widening in realization at just who you were talking to. "Wait… you’re the Raven Queen. Does-does that mean I’m dead?" You stare up at her for some sort of confirmation, but the porcelain mask she wore didn’t really help give you any clues.

"Life can be so short and unfair, never caring if they be young, old, good or evil when facing the reality that is death." You blink at her words, it felt like there was some meaning to them but you couldn’t place your finger on what.

"Is-is that a yes?" You ask hoping for a more straightforward answer. She lets out another hum and reaches down to pick you up in a fluid motion, shifting to help smooth back some of your hair the second you were secure in her arms. Her touch was cold yet oddly calming to you as she begins to glide her way across the empty landscape that surrounded you both, you wonder if she was taking you to the afterlife, then she stops. You look at her confused but something else quickly captures your attention, a bright light cutting through the darkness. You couldn’t make direct eye contact but you tried your best to, hearing faint voices emitting through it, you couldn’t make out any words but the voices sounded desperate, pleading. You look up at the Raven Queen and, even through the mask, you could feel her own gaze set on you. You stare at her with curious eyes and once again tilt your head to the side in an almost silent question, as before she copies your action and traces the side of your face, tucking back any loose hair you may have had.

"Sweet little bird," she starts making you perk up, that was what Vax and Keyleth would call you as a nickname. "It is not your time quite yet, you have much more to accomplish in this life and foes whose souls shall be brought to me by your hand." You couldn’t tell if she was trying to be uplifting or something, but you did find some encouragement in her words. She leans closer to you and the cool feeling of her mask presses against your forehead as if in a gentle kiss before your vision turns white…

You open your eyes staring up at the ceiling of your room in Greyskull Keep, you just sit there staring into space for a while until you adjust yourself to sit up. Strangely enough you feel something wrapped in one of your hands, slowly opening it to find a single ravens feather resting in your palm, you examine it a moment before breaking into a cough, a strange sensation in your neck like there was a hand still around it. The sound of your door opening makes you look over to see Pike enter the room and hurry over to you, she helps steady you to your feet, giving a little extra healing to make the feeling in your neck go away and hugs you tightly, you happily return the hug, stashing the feather into your pocket. The two of you make your way around the keep to the dining room where the others were waiting, the instant they all see you you're swept up into hugs and apologies from all of them.

"(Y/n)! You’re awake!" "How are you feeling?" "I’m so sorry we couldn’t get to you in time." "We were so scared, we thought we might not be able to save you." These alongside many other comments were sent your way as you just happily snuggle into each one of their individual embraces. Keyleth and Vex both clung to you tightly doing very little to hold back their tears of joy. Grog easily scooped you up into his arms, being careful not to crush you and just happy to see that you were back on your feet, even if he protested to being worried. Percy and Scanlan both played it neutral, giving you pats on the shoulder or back, Scanlan making a comment that he knew everything would be alright because Pike was amazing at her job, but you could see the relief in their eyes for your well being. Then there was Vax, like the others he was very much happy and relieved that you were alright, wrapping you up in a tight embrace but there was also this faint look of knowing in his eyes when he stared at you. You offer all of them a bright smile before looking back up at the rouge, pulling out the feather to show him. He looks at it a moment, his expression softening a little more as gently weaves it into your hair. You’re about to say something when Percy speaks up, suggesting everyone goes out for the evening to finally unwind and celebrate your recovery. Quick and happy to agree you all head out to Emon, because there was only one thing on your mind now… you were absolutely famished.

Mighty Nein

Being in a group of adventurers was a risky bet to take, one you took with a smile. It would be fun they said, you’ll get to see new places they said, nothing could possibly go wrong you thought. For the most part it was true, but facing off against a coven of sea hags wasn’t proving to be the most fun to you. Well in fashion for the Nein, it would seem, things only got worse before they’d get better, one of the hags activating an orb-like object summoning a water elemental to the battle. The water elemental lunges at you, sweeping you up in its torrent to keep you from escaping, you only had enough time to take in a quick gasp of air before you’re trapped in the creature. You try to flail your arms to break free of the creatures hold to no avail, it’s not long before you start to have a hard time holding your breath. In a desperate last attempt you try reaching out to grab hold of anything nearby that you could use to pull yourself free, it was a futile attempt, your arms not even breaking past the creatures watery body. Your lungs begged for air and without meaning to you release your breath and take in a water, it burned your throat and lungs when you tried to cough it out only taking more in. Everything around you started to fade away, it was like the elemental itself didn’t exist either, only you and this moment, you couldn't escape and you didn’t know where everyone else was. It was lonely and you were terrified… then the pain disappeared, your vision was still dark but it didn’t hurt to breathe anymore.

You weren’t too sure what was going on, you couldn’t move or at very least you chose not to move and looked every which direction to see if there was anything or anyone else with you. Finding nothing you shakily rise to your feet and slowly move forward in this dark abyss.

"Hello! Is anyone there? Caduceus? Jester? Anyone?" You call out into the darkness hoping for an answer… no response. You keep calling for anyone from the Nein in hopes that someone would answer you, though it felt as though your voice was just swallowed up and reaching nowhere. "Is anyone there?" You repeat feebly. "Please, I don’t wanna be alone." You sniffle and tremble a little, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. A soft light breaks the darkness around you and a feminine figure appears before you. Her hair long and wild, cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall well complimented by the vines and flowers growing among it, a warm motherly smile upon her face.

A comforting breeze, feeling like that of a warm hug, blows around you and words, unspoken aloud but still heard form in your mind. "My sweet child, do not fear, you have never been alone." The words were soft and gentle, easing away your fear and bringing a sense of comfort to you as you stare up at the woman. She gently lifts you into her arms, moving so fluidly you almost don’t realize it until you’re face to face with the deity. Curiously you reach a hand out and touch the various flowers in her hair, a small giggle coming from you at the feeling.

"Your hair's really soft and the flowers a very pretty." You compliment, she hums in response, taking one of the flowers out of her hair and tucking it behind your ear. You carefully place a hand on the flower and smile at her, all the fear you held earlier finally disappearing.

"It is not quite yet your time to rejoin the earth," once again you don’t quite see her lips move but hear a voice carried in the soft breeze she emits. "Your family still needs you, my child. Go. Learn. Grow." Her words brought comfort but you had no idea what she was saying, honestly you still weren’t quite sure what had happened or who she was. She parts her lips and blows air into you, your vision turning white for a moment before you find yourself coughing up some water, feeling some pain in your chest as a result.

"Easy, easy. It’s alright, you’re gonna be okay." You rub your eyes before peeking them open to see Caduceus staring down at you with a relived smile. That’s when it clicked into your head what happened, but before you can make a comment another voice jumps in.

"Oh my gosh, (y/n)! We were so scared when we saw you in that nasty water guy." Jester effortlessly scoops you up into her arms and twirls around, a few tears having fallen at her relief.

"I wouldn’t say I was scared, just… worried." Beau comments, though her voice wavered slightly. Jester places you down and you’re immediately tackled into another hug by Nott. No comment from her, just being held in a tight embrace only a mother could give. When she finally lets go Fjord kneels down to your height and gently rubs your back, having been in a similar experience before he knows how you felt and almost looked guilty for it. You place a hand on his cheek and offer him a closed eye smile, he returns the smile before standing up again. Yasha now kneeling down and taking her turn to wrap you in her arms. You could feel the slight tremble in her body as she held you close, whispering something so quiet you wondered if she was even speaking at all.

Something soft butting at your leg pulled you from your thoughts, looking down at Frumpkin the cat gently butts it’s head against your leg again before rubbing his body against it with a soft purr. You pick up the cat, cuddling him a bit before looking around for his owner, spotting Caleb leaning against the wall his hands covering his face as he draws in deep breaths. You walk over to him and tug at his coat until he looks at you, you then hold up Frumpkin for him. He bends down and takes the cat from you, letting the fey rest on his shoulders then reaches over and gives you a pat on the head. It wasn’t much but you gave him A for effort.

"Alright, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m done standing around in here." Beau speaks up again, making you realize you were still in the creepy sea cave where the coven once resided.

"I second that!" You say, it coming out more hoarse then you’d like. A few more voices of agreement later and your all making your way back out of the cave and towards your ship.

[thosewickedlovelies]

Into the Woods: chapter 1  |  Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: Neither you nor Frankie are expecting to run into anyone in the middle of the woods.

Tags: none!! all audiences!

Word Count: 3,054

Note: HE’S HERE!!! Please enjoy the official first installment of the outdoors insta frankie series 🌳📷😍 So much love to the wonderful @yoditorian for coming up with this concept and Frankie’s IG name, and also helping me brainstorm 💗💗💗

Backstory

---

Francisco Morales loves this shit. Walking for hours without seeing another soul, nothing to think about but where to place his feet on the path ahead of him. Assuming he’s following a path at all. These are his woods- the country surrounding the house he’s lived in for years, a place just shy of isolated from the nearest town. They’re not really his, legally. He’s not exactly sure what the rules of land designation entail, but it’s not a national park, and no one has ever chased him up about the occasional wood-chopping or campfire-building he does.

So he walks.

It’s a damn perfect day for it, too. Brilliantly sunny with a hint of breeze, rustling the greenery around him and carrying the scents of sun-warmed leaves and late summer flowers. The birds are in high spirits, their vibrant chirping filling the air with chatter. Screeches of alarm, sometimes, too- a side effect of hiking with a giant energetic dog. Frankie watches ruefully as Oso crashes off into the undergrowth again, doubtless chasing down some poor creature.

He slows his pace to wait for her, taking the opportunity for a water break. His heavy pack thuds to the ground. Frankie grunts as he stretches, rotating his shoulders and flapping his sweaty t-shirt away from his back. I should really hike along the river more often, he muses. He doesn’t mind working up a sweat (obviously), but a ready supply of cool water during a long hike does wonders for one’s well-being.

“Boof!” Oso’s deep bark as she returns brings Frankie’s attention to her.

“Yeah? Would you like that, too? A nice swim in the river to cool you down?” He crouches to ruffle her neck fur the way she likes. Oso only pants in answer, blinking at him adoringly.

She slurps thirstily as Frankie pours some water from his bottle into her mouth. He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Osita, we’ll be near some water soon.”

Their goal today is a small pond Frankie had only found earlier this year. It’s a good spot for his campfire cooking, as well as endlessly photogenic. This is marginally important to him, as he attempts to keep a regular diary of his wanderings through instagram. It’s mostly for fun, but like anyone else, he isn’t immune to the particular buzz from his posts unexpectedly getting a high number of likes.

But he had also discovered that he wasn’t the only one with this hobby. There were whole communities of people out there who found peace the same way he did, and they happily gave advice if ever he posted about a struggle.

Frankie pauses again a short way away from the pond to make sure he’s on course. Oso sniffs around excitedly, bounding off again while Frankie checks his GPS. “Huh.” Looking around, he laughs at himself a little when it tells him he’s almost walked past it. He rotates to his left and thinks he spots the telltale gap in the trees ahead. He tucks the GPS away.

Oso barks from somewhere ahead of him. A split second later, a human yelp sounds from the same direction. His eyes widen.

“Shit!” Frankie breaks into a run. In all the years he’s been out here, he rarely sees other people this far from the trails. “Oso!” he yells. “Here, girl!”

Oso isn’t aggressive (unless the situation warrants it), but whatever new friend she thinks she’s meeting won’t know that. Frankie races toward where he judges the noise came from, heart pounding. He bursts through some bushes and is almost knocked down by his beast jumping up to greet him.

“Hey, girl, who was- no!” Oso peels away again across a bit of clear ground, her collar slipping through Frankie’s fingers. He’s barreling toward where her tail wags from behind a bush, when you stand.

Frankie skids to a stop so abruptly his feet slide out from under him. His ass hits the ground with a thud, his rucksack taking only part of the fall. He scrambles upright gracelessly, clumsy with the weight on his back, never taking his eyes off of you.

You stare at each other.

Nothing about this moment feels real to Frankie- you could announce that you’re the dryad who rules this forest and he would believe you, that’s how unlikely your appearance is. Shifting sunbeams dapple your skin, and even from several feet away he can tell that you have the most striking eyes he’s ever seen.

For a second your gaze flicks down to the side. You lean slightly as if something has nudged you, and as you move your hand away from it Frankie realizes you’re holding something.

Shit. He returns to his senses. Is that a weapon?

He’s met people on the trails before, most of them harmless fellow hikers. But occasionally there are some with weird vibes, especially the farther away from the paths you got. He’s fully capable of defending himself, but that doesn’t mean he wants to have to.

“Oso! Here!” Frankie says sternly. Your expression doesn’t change as you watch the dog trot over to him. Jaw set, wide eyes tracking his every motion.

He supposes he can’t blame you for being wary. Or armed. It’s a perfectly reasonable response to running into a strange man in the middle of the woods. He knows he’s not exactly the picture of reassurance. Tall and broad, probably too sweaty to believably claim he’s on a casual hike. He decides to speak.

“Sorry to startle you.” Frankie keeps his hands by his sides where you can see them, resting one on Oso’s head. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

Your tense stance doesn’t relax. “Me either.”

His head tips to the side. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?” He tries to keep his voice slow and soothing.

He can see you assessing him, trying to measure how safe he is. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” Frankie pats the dog’s head in a more formal introduction. “I like to come out here and cook.” Your brow furrows at that, bemusement appearing amidst your guarded features. Before you can respond, he prompts “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

“Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” Disbelief is etched in every line of your face.

Well, when you say it like that.

Foraging. That makes perfect sense. Frankie follows a few of them on instagram. He’s always pleased when he notices the more obvious edible plants and berries, but it’s not usually his focus. His vegetable garden at home takes up most of his efforts. It’s managed to thrive in the years since he started it after leaving the army, and it’s become a source of pride for him to be able to wander out, pick some things for the day’s meal, and head right into the woods.

“Yeah,” he responds. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

Your eyebrows rise even higher at that.

Moving slowly and watching for your reaction, Frankie holds his hands up as he turns, keeping one in the air while the other makes a show of tugging his phone from a side pocket of his pack. He keeps the screen visible as he opens the app, then pulls his arm back in the beginning of an underhanded throw. Poised as such, he looks at you expectantly.

Now you’re almost frowning. Clearly still suspicious, but possibly fractionally less concerned about danger from a man willing to give his phone to a complete stranger in the woods. Hesitantly, you raise your hands to catch it.

Finally Frankie can make out that the thing in your hand in a canister of mace. The sight inexplicably relieves him. Pepper spray is a normal person’s defense, something that anyone might carry to help themselves feel safe. Far from the kind of weapon he would fear from someone angling for true violence.

All of this decided in the space of a second, Frankie gently tosses you his phone.

--

You’re so distracted by delighting in the prolific blackberry bushes which surround your pond that you don’t hear the approaching creature until it’s upon you.

You screech in shock at the massive fur-thing’s appearance, bowling you over from your crouch. It doesn’t seem bothered about wanting you to pet it, only wiggling and sniffing at you enthusiastically. You register the collar around its neck at the same you hear the shout.

“Oso!” That must be its name. “Here, girl!” The dog dashes away, then back, clearly torn about leaving her new friend so soon.

Icy adrenaline douses your system. That was a man’s voice, rough and cavernous. Who knows what kind of person he could be, no matter the earnestness of his dog? Your hands shake as you rip open your bag for the canister of mace you’ve never had to use.

There’s a pronounced rustle and then his voice sounds again, terrifyingly close. “Hey, girl, who was- no!”

Shit. The dog is back, looking at you eagerly, rear in the air and tail wagging like this is an exciting game. You have to choose a course of action quickly. Twisting the safety off the pepper spray, you rise to your feet.

His reaction is almost funny; you think you might have laughed if this was literally any other scenario. Like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel, the man wrenches himself to a stop with such force his feet fly up from the ground. The contents of his bulging pack crunch against the earth, but he barely seems to notice he’s fallen, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time he cycles back to his feet.

You stare at each other.

That’s a man all right. Towering even from this distance, with wide shoulders that help the impression. His eyes are round and stunned, the cap on his head knocked slightly askew and freeing sweat-dark curls to spring around his ears.

Your first thought is that he looks warm. Not temperature warm, although the gleam of sweat on his neck confirms that, too. But approachable warm. There’s a softness to his body that belies the muscle his motions highlight, creases around his eyes that wrinkle brown like tree bark in the sun.

Then his dog noses your thigh, reminding you that you have pepper spray in your hand because you’re in the middle of the damn woods with a potentially threating stranger. You risk a half-second glance down to move the canister away from her face.

You regard the man with stony distrust, fear flushing your face and neck with heat. Confrontation makes the blood roar in your ears, but it gradually quiets as he orders the creature away from you. For several more seconds the only sound is rustling leaves.

He clears his throat. “Sorry to startle you,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

His voice doesn’t sound as harsh now that he’s not frantically shouting for his dog. Still you keep your answer short. “Me either.”

His head tilts inquisitively. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?”

That’s a fair question. He has a right to be curious too. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” The man pats her head, and the dog’s ears perk up. “I like to come out here and cook.” Wait, what? Before you have a chance to process that, he continues. “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

You won’t be deterred. “Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” If this is some elaborate murder setup, that’s not a very plausible lie.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

You’re slightly more skeptical than fearful now. You watch silently as the man turns in place, putting the side of his backpack in your line of sight so you can see him fish his phone out. He makes his actions slow and obvious. The white background of an instagram page glows on the screen as he retracts his arm in a throwing pose. Clear eyes meet yours.

What? This guy is just going to...give you his phone, no questions asked? Taken aback, you can feel the deep grooves of a frown between your eyebrows as you consider.

You’re hesitant to reveal the pepper spray, but if there’s still some possibility this is a trick, he might second-guess attacking you if he sees you’re armed. You ready yourself for a catch.

Which you accomplish, easily, his toss landing the phone right in your hands. The dog lurches forward, but this time man has a grip on her collar and she’s forced to halt with a whine.

“Sorry, girl. We’re not playing fetch right now, okay? Sit!” The man doesn’t even seem concerned with monitoring you, looking down seriously at his dog as he speaks.

You keep one eye on them as you turn your attention to the screen. Frankieintheforest, reads the username at the top of the page. Just a guy out in the woods, continues his bio. Well, that’s accurate, anyway. Frankie, huh? You spare him another glance, matching various features of him to the ones in his photos. A broad hand here, sturdy hiking boots there. Several glimpses of the same flannel that’s currently tied to the strap of his backpack. His face in a few group shots. You click on an image which shows Oso parading around a yard with a grinning toddler on her back. “Ferocious beast carries away yet another victim,” quips the caption. An involuntary smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

There are too many photos going too far back for it to be fake. You turn the screen toward him. “Cute kid,” you comment. “Is she yours?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “No,” the man half laughs. “My buddy’s. I’m just the godfather.” A small smile softens his face as he takes in the picture.

Being named godfather was nothing to sneeze at. You study the man carefully, keeping your face neutral. He seems genuine, his dog keen and friendly. Dogs were a good judge of character, right? Indicative of the character of their owner? He hasn’t demanded anything from you, not done anything threatening beyond just being here.

You glance between him and the phone again. “Frankie?” you question.

He raises one hand in a wave, directing a crooked sort of smile at you. “That’s me,” Frankie confirms.

You offer him your name in return. “Uh, you can have this back now.” You gesture with the phone.

He brings his hands up to catch it, and you thank every deity you know of when your throw connects. You’re at a bit of a loss for what to do next, however. You suppose this means you’re at a truce. But you still don’t think you’d be able to let yourself focus on foraging while knowing there’s a stranger wandering so nearby.

Frankie seems to be thinking the same thing. One hand rubs over the back of his neck. “Well,” he begins. “My plans for today were to sit by this pond and cook over a fire.” He points his thumb to the right, where not far away the reflection of sunlight on water wavers against the tree trunks.

“You can join me if you want.” He shrugs awkwardly. “I’m just gonna collect some tinder and then park it, so you don’t have to worry about me interrupting your foraging or anything.”

Oso finally wriggles free of his grasp and surges forward, leaping across to you with a triumphant woof! “Oso, no!” Frankie stumbles after her, only to stop after two steps, clearly unwilling to make you uncomfortable by getting too close. He looks on helplessly, hands flexing.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. This time you offer her your free hand to sniff, which she does, before promptly shoving her head beneath it for pets. Amused, you comply. Her multi-hued fur is soft beneath your fingers.

“You’re alright, aren’t you, Oso?” You dart a self-conscious glance back up to her owner, but he appears content to let you coo at his dog.

“She’s a good judge of character,” Frankie says simply.

You swallow. Those deep brown eyes linger over you, and this is all just a bit...much. “Right. Well. I’m just going to…” you ease back, hoping to convey ‘continue going about your business.’

“Oh, sure!” He takes a little hop backward. “I’ll be...here.” His hand makes a small circling motion to indicate a limited nearby area. “You’ll hear me before you see me. Or Oso.”

Frankie frowns slightly as if something has occurred to him. “Uh, she might want to follow you around today though. I can tie her to a tree if that would bother you? I don’t usually watch her too closely,” he admits sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You realize that you mean it as your thoughts continue to form. “She’ll make for good protection if I meet any more big scary strangers.” You aim the last words down to the dog herself, sending a wry a sidelong glance to said stranger.

He chuckles again, a rasp of a sound like creaking branches. “That’s fair. But I meant it when I said I’ve never seen anyone else in this particular area. You’re pretty safe.” He punctuates his statement with a nod to the canister still in your hand, soft understanding clear in his face.

Your head ducks slightly. “Well,” you say again. ”I’ll..see you around. I guess.” You don’t wait for a farewell, turning to foist your pack back onto your shoulder. You strain your ears for any noise behind you as you flee, but there’s no sound of pursuit.

“Go ahead. Have fun, Oso,” Frankie calls, already at a distance from your quick pace. There’s a distinctly animal scurrying, and then the dog bursts into being by your side.

Your arms wheel as you jump. “Jeez, you are enormous,” you mumble, pausing to pet her again. Discreetly you look over your shoulder in time to see Frankie turn away from you, heading for your pond.

--

Post note: I know pepper spray is like, super illegal in the UK and other places, but it’s not abnormal to carry around in the US so just pretend it’s fine.

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb, @computeringturtle

[geordiewrites]

I Did Something Bad | James Potter

A/N: Before reading, I just want to say this story is based around cheating, so simply if you don’t like that, don’t read it! It’s also really bad, but I need to get back into the swing of regular writing for my mental health’s sake, and this was my way of doing it so please don’t be too harsh reading it. I’m still v new to this shit, and v Geordie too so if I’m using words you don’t get or smth like that, just lemme know.

Summary: Y/N has been in love with James Potter for who knows how long... the only problem is when something happens between them, he’s in a relationship with someone else.

Warning: Infidelity, cheating, mentions of sex, angst, shit writing, shit characters, just don’t expect much okay?

“I have to tell you something.” Y/N says, fiddling awkwardly with the now frayed hem of her mustard-yellow jumper, fingers fumbling as she tries to speak.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Marlene, her best friend, asks worriedly, but Y/N just shakes her head, tears beginning to spring in her eyes. Seeing this, Marlene quickly rushes to sit next to Y/N on the edge of her bed in their gold and crimson adorned dormitory. She just stares blankly out of the window, trying and miserably failing to hide the fact that all she wants to do is rush out of Hogwarts and never return.

“I don’t even know where to start, Marls.” She mewls between choked sobs. “There’s so much I haven’t told anybody.”

“You can tell me.” Marlene continues, throwing a comforting arm over her friend’s shoulders with ease. Her face is twisted with worry, the kind of anxiousness that Marlene has never seen before and frankly is terrified by. “Just start at the beginning, I suppose. Who’s all this about anyway? Do I need to beat anyone up?” Marlene says frantically, and Y/N lets out a humourless laugh.

“No. Me, perhaps. Just promise if I tell you, you won’t tell Lily about it?” Her voice breaks more and more with every syllable.

“Why would I need to keep something from Lily?”

“Because it’s about James. Me and James.” Y/N whispers, pressing her face into her trembling hands.

“You and James?” She questions just a little too satirically, causing Y/N to send her a withering glare. “What is it you need to tell me?”

“I slept with him, Marlene.” Y/N cries before she finally collapses into a flummox of tears and loud cries that fill the dormitory with a tense, thick silence as the information settles in.

“When?” Only one word is managed from Marlene, said in a half shocked, half angry tone. Y/N feels Marlene’s arm shift off of her shoulder as she moves to sit cross legged on the floor. Away. Away from Y/N.

“The night of the party in September when they had that huge row because he got drunk when they had agreed not to.” She replied, her throat dry and hoarse making speaking physically painful, but she had to tell somebody. Anybody who would listen and wouldn’t judge her too harshly. Unfortunately however for Marlene, this burden fell to her since everyone else was out that day including both Lily and James, leaving no chance of being overheard.

“How did it happen?” Merlin, Y/N, why did it fucking happen?” Marlene said angrily, looking for something to throw across the room just to watch it smash into millions of irreparable pieces.

“You know bloody why, Marls.” Y/N snapped crossly, earning something close to a sympathetic look from Marlene.

~

Y/N couldn’t remember a time she had felt so lonely as to when James was kissing her.

It was strange really, since she had been madly in love with him for who knows how long at this point. But there, with their clandestine kiss captured into fracturing moonlight in the middle of her otherwise empty dorm room, with his hands travelling softly past her waist and to her hips, lips moving against hers in the way she had dreamed of, Y/N felt more solitary than ever. Perhaps it was because she knew he didn’t love her, that to him it was just completely physical. Maybe it was because he loved another, and someone she had been friends with for years at that. Deep down she knew it was simply because it was James.

James. James who used to carry her books because he was a whole head taller than her, and therefore claimed she needed a prince to save her. James who played Quidditch with her even though she was hopeless at it, and in return she waved a Gryffindor scarf for him at his games. Sometimes he even claimed it was the reason he won. James who told her that Lily was the love of his life while crying into her shoulder, unknowing that Y/N wanted nothing more than to hear those words about herself. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t, ever.

She could taste alcohol on his tongue as it moved expertly against her own, dark and bitter and sweet all at the same time. He carried a beautiful aroma of cigarette smoke, just slightly stale, and strangely oranges and the overly expensive cologne he always wore because Lily told Marlene she liked it four years previous. Everything about him screamed his love for Lily. From tousled hair to mirror her celebrity crush, to the way his eyes lit up every time the redhead walked into a room. And then there was Y/N, hopeless and drowning in an unrequited affection.

James and Lily were the Romeo and Juliet of Hogwarts, the epitome of a saccharine love story stretching over the expanse of seven years. Seeing them together was to be in the presence of true love, at least that was what almost everyone said. Nevertheless, only Y/N seemed to notice otherwise. The longing looks at other girls from James, the way they barely ever held hands, the fact they never kissed in public... although she had brushed this all aside, convincing herself she only saw it because he was looking, and that it wasn’t actually there at all.

But there James was, about to sleep with Y/N and throw that supposedly perfect relationship with the girl he had fawned over for years into turmoil. Some selfish part of Y/N wanted just that, perhaps that was the biggest reason when he whispered an “Are you sure?” against the skin of her jawline, she replied with a definite yes.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of afterglow and skin against skin, and for the most part, Y/N felt oddly sad. James’ touch felt hot enough to let her very skin on fire where he had touched her, and yet she still felt cold knowing he didn’t love her. He didn’t spend his nights dreaming of the colour of her eyes, but she knew his were a shining hazel with tiny flecks of green interspersed within them. She knew his birthday, his favourite colours and lessons and movies and stupid muggle bands... useless details really. They didn’t mean anything except to remind her of what she didn’t have, and of what Lily did.

And of what Y/N was now taking away from her.

~

“He was sad and we were drunk out of our minds. I remember finding him alone in the corridor. I remember talking to him about Lily for awhile, and then suddenly we were kissing and I couldn’t bring myself to say no.” Y/N explained slowly, the hazy memories of that night becoming more and more clear with each passing second.

“I can’t believe this.” Marlene said, raking fingers through her honey hair and pulling on the roots in shock. “I can’t believe it, Y/N.” She repeated, over and over and over until it seemed just a little more plausible. A little more tangible. A little more real. “I don’t blame you, you know.”

“What?!” Y/N exclaimed, an icy surprise erupting in her veins and sending a cold chill throughout her body.

Marlene smiled painfully. “What you did was awful, but he was the one in a relationship.”

“‘Suppose so. What should I do?” She blurted desperately, running her hands over the burgundy silk of her duvet as she anxiously stood up.

“You have to tell Lily.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to, Y/N. He cheated on her with you!” Marlene shouted, previously calm voice rising with exasperation.

“You don’t think I know that?” Y/N hissed back, venom beginning to seep into her voice but it wasn’t even aimed at Marlene. It was aimed at James, and at herself. “I fucking know I fucked up, Marls. But I can’t tell Lily - the literal sweetest person - that I shagged her boyfriend and that I’ve been in love with him since James learned who she even was. And he’ll never feel that way about me. Ever. He saw a quick fuck when he looked at me that night and a future wife when he saw Lily. Why do you think they’re still together? Because he doesn’t care.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so very sorry. But James isn’t going to tell her, and she has to know-!”

“Maybe he will.” Y/N interrupted.

“We both know that’s a lie. Somebody has to tell her, and it’s going to have to be you.”

“Please Marlene.” She begged, heart aching within her chest as a million unkempt memories flashed through her mind in the space of a mere moment.

~

“Come on, Y/N, truth or dare?” James asks through laughter.

“I should never have agreed to play one-on-one truth or dare with you.” Y/N replies irritably, although it’s stupidly short lived when he sends her that shit eating grin, and all over again she feels like a thirteen year old with a crush. Deep down she still is, underneath the makeup and the fake laughter, she’s still the same little girl who thinks she doesn’t deserve love. “But fine, I choose truth.”

“Good choice. Alright, who was the first person you ever shagged?” James asks curiously.

“Wow, James, way to make it seem as though I’ve done a hundred people.”

“Apologies, but go on.”

“Fine.” Y/N shifts awkwardly. “It was you, actually. Back in fifth year.”

“Oh.” He replies after a long pause, which to Y/N feels as though it will never end.

“I don’t really remember it if I’m being honest.” She adds in an attempt to dispel the thick tension that has built up. It doesn’t, and James can barely meet her eyes. “We were drunk, I think.”

“I often am when I spend time with you.”

~

And that was the moment it hit Y/N. The moment when he started giggling at her confession. The moment when she knew she hated him almost just as much as she loved him, because she had let that infatuation with him consume her. The moment when he told her in return that he only needed her for drunken sex, after she had lied about remembering it. Because she did remember it, so well in fact that it may as well have been etched into her skin with scarring inks. Where he touched her, how it felt that first night. And how it felt the one they wrecked his relationship.

That day, sitting with Marlene in her dormitory having just told her of the worst crime Y/N had ever committed, it hurt just the same. And now she was stuck with this pain, this awful, selfish feeling every time she saw him and Lily together that she just wished something would happen to her and James could be together.

Y/N never expecting it to be through cheating, but perhaps that was all it would ever be.

A one night stand, forever kept in the darkest part of her mind with the rest of her regrets. Regretting never telling James of her love for him. Regretting not asking him years ago to kiss her age fourteen, maybe she could’ve had a chance to get over him then. It felt like she never had that. It was a hookup, a torrid, illicit affair.

And that was all it would ever be. But perhaps that was what she deserved.

As Y/N walked down towards the Gryffindor common room, she could only think of a few things. How Lily could possibly react, how James would react to her telling Lily because he didn’t. Both had thousands of answers, none of which she could possibly predict in the moment. Step by step down the mahogany staircase leading to the plush, homey centre room the Gryffindors adored so much, Y/N inhaled and exhaled sharp breaths, planning out exactly what she was going to say to Lily in her mind.

All of that went away when she saw them together, curled up on the red velvet sofa in front of the dying embers of a once roaring fire, just watching it flicker away with their hands intertwined. Just sat there, staring hopelessly into one another’s eyes, so deep in love they didn’t even notice her step in the room. While she expected tears to spring in her eyes, they didn’t, the usual feeling of suffocation she felt around them had suddenly disappeared.

And as Y/N watched them, it finally hit her that what James did wasn’t some way of trying to communicate a discontent in their relationship, it was a stupid, pathetic mistake. But that’s all it was: a mistake.

And they would just have to live with that.

~

Nancy xx (again, apologies for how crap this is but it’s my first attempt at writing in a loooong time)!

[impalas-r-important]

Love of my Life - (1) All's fair in love and snowball fights.

Pairing: Dean x reader(ish)

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You and Dean were inseparable from the moment you met; a true match made in heaven. You were killed in the big showdown with Lucifer and Michael (S5), but were brought back to life along side Sam. Heartbreak quickly took over your life after finding out that Dean had already moved on with Lisa so soon after your death.

Series Masterlist

-------------‐--------------------------------

You sighed as you looked over at Sam and Dean. You and Sam had been doing research for 5 straight days trying to help Bobby out with a case. Dean would come over and help when he could. Sam was in the living room, his nose buried in a book and Dean was sitting with his feet up on the kitchen table, pretending to look studious as he fought off his heavy eye lids. You stood up to stretch your legs and wandered over to the window. It had snowed all night and all morning, leaving the outside world blanketed with pillowy, inviting flakes. The corners of your mouth crept up in a slight smile as an idea came to your mind. You quickly grabbed your jacket that had been slung across the back of your chair which startled Dean enough to wake him up. He sloppily wiped a bit of drool from his mouth and looked over to find an irritated Sam glaring at him. You jogged a few steps to the back door and pulled your boots on.

“Where are you going?” You could hear Sam ask from the other room.

“I’ll be right back!”

You stepped outside and the chilly wind instantly burned the back of your throat, but you didn’t care. You were just happy to not be looking at the worn pages of another lore book. You bent down and scooped the snow together in your hands creating 2 perfect snowballs. A mischievous grin spread on your face as you stomped back into the living room of Bobby’s house. Sam was your first target; he was so unaware of what was about to hit him. Literally. You pulled back your arm, took your aim, and launched the snowball, nailing him square in the face. The shocked look on his face was priceless.

“Hah!” Dean looked up and tauntingly laughed from the table on the other side of the room. His laugh quickly turned into a frown as you threw the second snowball at him. He paused and blinked a few times before wiping the snow from his face. He turned to look at you, and you couldn’t tell if he was angry or not. The three of you exchanged glances, a few seconds of silence passing while you all gauged the situation before Dean stood up giving you a perfect, playful smile.

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know what you just started.” He ran at you and you turned to run away, giving a squeal as you did. You were fast, but Dean was faster. You had a few good steps on him, but as you reached the staircase, he grabbed you by your waist, throwing you over his shoulder and marching out the door with you.

“Let me go!” You laughed as he tickled your sides.

“If you say so.” He ran across the yard and gently tossed you into a big snowbank, giving your system a shock. You shot up and tried to shake the snow out from your clothes.

“This means war, Winchester!” You shouted as you ran full speed at Dean, rugby tackling him into the few feet of snow piled up behind him.

Sam popped out from behind an icy car with an armful of huge snowballs. “Gotcha both!” He exclaimed as he pelted the two of you. Dean pulled you underneath him and turned his back to Sam, protecting you. You got lost in his green eyes for a moment as he pulled his face close to yours. “One, two, three!” Dean counted down and you knew exactly what his plan was, without needing to discuss it. The two of you had always been on the same wavelength, making you the perfect hunting (and snowball fight) partners. You both turned and ran at Sam, Dean grabbed your hand tight and extended his arm as the two of you clotheslined the taller brother, knocking him backwards. You stole the few snowballs Sam had dropped and threw them at the two boys.

“I thought we were on a team now?!” Dean grinned at you as he crouched down and began to form the snow in his hands. He cocked his arm back and launched it at you as you ducked behind a car. It just missed you. You sat with your back to the car door, catching your breath and looking on either side of you, waiting for one of the boys to jump out at you.

Dean had climbed on top of the car and jumped down in front of you. “Ha ha! I’ve got you right where I want you!” You laughed and slipped as you tried to get up, causing you to laugh even harder. Dean pulled you backwards by your feet. Kneeling on either side of you, he pinned you down with a snowball in hand. “Do you surrender?!” He demanded.

“Yes, yes fine!” Your stomach hurt from all the laughing. Dean dropped the snowball and huffed. He flopped down in the snow next to you, catching his breath and letting out a little laugh.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I mean, the look on Sam’s face when you threw that first snowball at him. Priceless!” He turned to look at you, pulling you close to him. “Thanks, Y/N/N.” It had been so long since you had seen Dean smile a genuine smile like the one he was giving to you now. Your heart fluttered and memories of your relationship came flooding back the minute you looked into his eyes. He looked back at you and for a moment, nothing and no one else existed. This felt so right and so natural, like it had always felt with him when you were together. This was a joy that you rarely felt anymore, and you knew that the only thing bringing it to you was Dean. He brushed a stray hair behind your ear as his eyes wandered down to your lips.

“Dean?” A distant voice called. It was Lisa. You both sat up quickly. Overwhelming happiness quickly turned to heart break.

“Crap!” Dean said under his breath as he checked his watch. “We’re supposed to go to a neighbor’s house for dinner tonight. I should have been home 40 minutes ago. I just lost track of time.” He stood up and brushed the snow from his clothes.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have started that stupid snowball fight.” You apologized.

“No, no I haven’t laughed like that in…” Dean paused, “hell, I don’t know how long. Don’t you dare apologize for that.” He reached out a hand to help you up, but you waved him off.

“I’m okay, you go. It’s probably better if Lisa doesn’t see me. I’ll stay hidden behind this old hunk a’ junk until you guys leave.” You patted the car behind you and tried to muster up a fake smile. Dean didn’t buy it. Lisa hated when your relationship with Dean was brought up, and she equally disliked you being around him.

“Listen, Y/N/N, I- “

“Dean?!” Lisa’s voice interrupted him. She was clearly getting angrier and closer.

Dean opened his mouth as if to say something to you, but instead just exhaled and looked at you with longing eyes. You broke the eye contact after a few seconds and moved your gaze to the ground.

“Bye, Y/N.” Dean muttered. You could hear his footsteps crunch in the snow as he walked away.

“Where the hell were you?!” You could hear Lisa demand in the background.

“Sam and I were just having a snowball fight.” Dean tried to explain himself. You noticed he had left your name out on purpose.

“I swear you two are children when you are around each other.”

You hated the way she talked down to him. Like he was some disobedient puppy on a leash. You heard another set of crunching footsteps approach you. Sam walked around the car and sat down next to you; you leaned your head on his shoulder. Your heavy heart had returned, and you felt empty again.

A few moments passed as you both waited to make sure Dean and Lisa had left. Sam broke the silence once he heard the back door close. “You know, you can talk to me, right Y/N?”

“Yeah, Sammy, thank you.” You looked up and gave him a halfhearted smile.

“No, not like this beat around the bush kind of talking. Like, really telling me how you feel. About Dean, about Lisa, about life. Anything and everything. You can trust me to keep your secrets. I feel like you and I are in the same boat right now. Neither of us expected to die, never mind come back, and it’s hard to see how life, Dean especially, changed while we were gone. I can tell this is all weighing on you. You’re not the same as you used to be.” He arched his neck to look down at you as much as he could. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like Lisa. Not at all. I don’t get what Dean sees in her. She has changed him into someone that I barely recognize, and I know you see it too.” Sam let out a small sigh of relief. “Man, I’ve been wanting to get that off my chest for a while.” His demeanor became more serious. “You know, I thought you and Dean would be together forever.”

His words helped you a little. “I thought we would be too. I guess I was just making our relationship out to be more than it really was.” You shrugged.

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“I hadn’t even been dead for that long and he had already moved in with another woman. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and if the situations were reversed, then I would rather live the rest of my life alone than be with someone else if I lost Dean.”

“I don’t have an explanation for that, but I do know that you weren’t making it out to be more than it was. Dean was head over heels in love with you. I knew it from, literally, the moment we met you. And honestly, I think he still is. He just does a good job of hiding it.”

“Everyday hurts, Sam. Every time I have to see him with her.” You whispered. “Lately I’ve been asking myself why I’m still here. I mean, Dean asked us to stick around here and make a home base, but I don’t know if I can do that anymore.”

“You’re thinking about leaving?” He frowned.

“Yeah, maybe... I don’t know.” You traced circles in the snow beneath you. “What good am I doing here? Why do I keep putting myself through this pain? If I left, I could try and move on with my life.”

Sam nodded and waited a few moments before saying, “Well, I can’t stop you from leaving, or tell you how to live your life, but I’m going to miss you like hell if you do go. You’re literally my sister. But I understand where you’re coming from. I miss being out on the road and just living case to case. Domestic life isn’t for me, not right now anyway. But I could never leave Dean here by himself, so I’ll figure out a hybrid of the two.”

You didn’t say anything because you didn’t want to break down in tears. Sam could tell. “Let’s get back inside and change. It’s been a nice to take a break from research. We’ll go grab some hot chocolate and dinner before we dive back into the books. Deal?”

You smiled and nodded at him. Sam helped you up and put his arm around you as you walked back inside. “Sorry I hit you in the face with a snowball… multiple times.” You joked and elbowed his side a little.

“Oh, I’ll get you back for that at some point, don’t you worry. It was just good to see a glimpse of the old you again.” Sam smiled and held the door open for you. It felt good to vent to Sam, and it felt even better knowing that he was on the same page as you about Lisa. You didn’t want to hate her; you weren’t that kind of a person. But you just couldn’t help it.

Chapter 2

[violetnotez]

hello!! how are u today? i hope youre well💖 may i request a baku crushing on a girl who is native eng speaker, but has never heard her speak. however one day the whole class is watching some eng movie n y/n starts dissing the movie in eng bc its so bad n the whole class is sHOCKED BC HER VOICE IS SO FLUENT N SM DEEPER IN ENG. bakubabe is just there like damn thats hot.

Hey babes! I’m doing well thank you, just doing some stuffs for my art blog! I hope youre doing well 💕💕also thank you to @gallickingun for the mangacap, it saved me so much time and I was actually able to color it! 😍

Also: IM ALIVE!!!! I LITERALLY WROTE THIS TODAY AND OMG I MISS WIRITNG! I’ll start on that Dabi x reader fic I mentioned in a little bit, just wanted to post this! Hopefully it’s good lmao

⤷ Genre: Fluff

⤷ Word Count: 2020

⤷ Warnings: cursing its bakubabe

⤷ Synopsis: Bakugo won’t admit it to himself, but he’s conflicted: he knows he has a crush on you, but his dumbass won’t admit it-well, until he hears your sexy American voice.

Song Recs: ⤷If I Cant Have You-Shawn Mendes⤷Thinking About You-Calvin Harris ⤷Rather Be-Clean Bandit

This was so stupid. Completely dumb and a waste of his time.

Bakugo slumped in his seat a little more, a grumble escaping his lips as he tried to focus on the screen in front of him, his broad shoulders crossed in front of him.

He should be sleeping right now, not sitting and watching this dumbass romantic American movie, especially when you were by his side.

There was no reason why his cheeks should feel hotter when you laughed at the movie, or his hands feel clammy with his sweat everytime you shifted your body closer to him.

It was pissing him off, because no matter how much he tried to ignore the pent up emotions in his chest, he had to admit it to himself-he had a goddamn crush.

On you, the goddamn exchange student.

Fucking great.

His lips pouted as he sulked in his seat on the couch, trying his best to glue his eyes to the screen instead of sneaking a glance at your profile.

The TV showed one of the most sickly sweet and horrific scenes he had ever witnessed: the main couple on screen were finally declaring their love to each other, their voices getting louder and more desperate as they tried to one up each other, almost as if battling to see who could last the longest.

“I love you to the moon!”

“I love you to the moon and back!”

“I love you to the moon and all the stars in the sky!”

“And I love you to-“

A laugh erupted next to him, Bakugo swiveling his head over to see you giggling in your seat, your pretty lips parted as those sweet sounds came from your mouth.

“God, this is terrible!” You chuckled, shaking your head as you said it.

Bakugo’s face reddened, his eyes widening from the sounds coming from your mouth.

Your sentence wasn’t in Japanese: it was foreign and new, American sounding.

Bakugo was used to your voice sounding light and airy when you talked in Japanese, like a leaf on a autumn breeze as it floated into his ears and danced in his mind whenever you spoke his native language. Sometimes you would fumble over the words, trying to piece the meanings together as a blush formed on your cheeks and your eyes turned up from embarrassment. He always made fun of you from it, usually telling you to “Spit it out Baka, I don’t got all day”, but really-he absolutely loved it. You sounded so sweet, so innocent and endearing: he just wanted to wrap you in a hug and envelope himself in your sugar sweet voice.

But right now, your voice was somehow the opposite-it was deeper and richer, like warm,auburn honey on a summer evening. It coated his mind in its thick numbness, the only thing he could think of was how deep and sultry, and well, sexy, it sounded coming from your lips.

He squirmed in his seat, hating how much that little change in your tone affected him so much as you continued to giggle at the wreck of a movie in front of you.

Your class turned to look at you, their faces clearly as shocked as Bakugo’s-they had never actually heard your voice when you spoke English, and they weren’t quite used to it.

You looked at your classmates, your face twisted in innocent confusion.

“What? What did I say?” You asked again in that sultry American voice, making Bakugo shift in his seat, his face looking away from you as he covered his mouth with his hand.

Damn you needed to get that voice under control-he felt like you were controlling his emotions when you spoke like that.

“Whoa y/n you know English!” Kamianri propped himself up, his face clearly in awe as he yelled it out the words.

Sero, who was sitting beside him, chuckled at his air headed friend, giving him a judging look.

“Uh, you do realize she’s from America, right?” Sero snickered, Kamianri looking sheepish as he realized his forgetfulness.

“Oops, Sorry!” He yelled out again, earning a laugh from you and the rest of your classmates.

Jealousy bubbled inside Bakugo like a volcanic eruption, the dangerous emotion barely being contained inside him as his fists clenched.

He hated when others made you laugh, especially his freinds, who unfortunately figured out the crush he had on you a few weeks back. Hearing you giggle at his idiot friends made him want to yell out in possession, declaring that they should know that you were his-well would be his- and they should lay off. But you didn’t suspect a thing about his feelings, and he really didn’t feel like looking like a possessive freak in front of you.

He felt your body shift next to his, his heart beating faster as your finger tapped his shoulder.

“Hey, Uh, Bakugo?” You whispered, the sweet tone of your Japanese voice making him shudder pleasantly, as well as long for your deeper American voice.

He grunted in response, his arms still slung across his broad chest.

“Did I talk in my American voice?”

He scoffed, his eyes rolling in his sockets at how adorably oblivious you could be sometimes. He sent you a shit eating smirk, his vermillion eyes dark like wine.

“What do you think?” He stated, but he didn’t say it in his language, no-he said it English.

He watched your face instantly light up, your eyes bright with excitement and awe as you gasped.

“Wait-you know English?!” You yelled out in awe, a smile erupting on your face. That smile seemed to shake his world, his mind eternally thanking that the room was so dark as his cheeks flushed.

“Of course I know English,” he scoffed, “what idiot doesnt.”

You giggled at his comment, your body shifting closer to his.

Damn it, his cheeks were getting hotter-he could feel your shoulder a mere centimeters away from his, your skin radiating a coolness that felt so soothing being near his permanently hot flesh.

You leaned in closer, your eyes watching his face with sweetness. “How long have you been speaking it?” you asked, but in that hot ass American voice-he was about to combust right then and there.

Shit-he would never admit it, but he hadn’t been exactly practicing his second language. He had learned it back in middle school, when it was a required class, and he had passed it with flying colors of course. Over the years though, he began to forget it, and he was pretty rusty now, now only remembering a few phrases (‘What do you think?’ being one of them)

“Ahh-“ he grumbled out, feeling stupid for not even understanding what you had said. He felt those pretty eyes of yours continue to stare at him, making him feel almost guilty for leading you on as you face fell slightly.

“You didn’t understand what I said, did you?” You asked sadly, back to using your airy Japanese voice. He hated seeing you look so disappointed, as if he let you down in some way.

“Of course I do, dumbass, I just-“

“It’s been awhile since you spoken it?”

He grunted in reply, your mind already translating that to a “Yes.”

Your face somehow light up again, your body even closer to his as you shimmied yourself near him.

“Then I’ll reteach you it!”

“Huh?” He looked at you, his eyes slanted as you peered at you with an almost judging look. What the hell were you playing at?

You nodded again, your lips letting out a slight hum.

“Yeah, I’ll teach you a phrase in English! To be honest, I miss having someone to talk to in my language…” you chuckled at your revelation, your eyes coated in embarrassment.

Well shit-if you needed someone to talk to in English, he was going to be the one to do it. With his damn luck Icy Hot and damn Deku would jump in and be your little English buddy. His skin crawled at the idea of you getting all cozy with one of those two bastards, his insides light up like a fire.

“Fine,” he huffed out, pretending like he was giving in, “but I’m not sitting through a whole damn lesson.”

You chuckled slightly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ears.

“Don’t worry, I’ll start off easy,” you smiled up at him, looking up slightly as if in thought.

“We’ll start with a something easy,” you instructed.

“I’ll teach you-“your sweet Japanese voice suddenly turned rich like syrup as it switched to American. ‘Hi my name is Bakugo”,

“Easy enough?” You asked, switching back to Japanese.

“Fucking elementary,” he scoffed, “yeah I can do it.”

“Cool!” You exclaimed quietly, still mindful of your classmates watching the crappy movie. You shimmied again, your face squarely staring at his as you waited for him to start speaking, your eyes expecting and wide with anticipation.

Shit he was supposed to be paying attention?

Bakugo cursed himself in his mind, as he was too preoccupied listening to your hot as hell American accent.

Damn, he was going to have a hard time talking to you in English, especially if you said his name like that. He hadn't realized how mezmorized he was by the way you spoke his name, your voice low and sultry as if you were telling him a secret, something he was only able to hear. His spine tingled and his hands clammed up again, making his mouth feel dry.

Shit, you’d be the end of him.

He opened his mouth, feeling uncharacteristically nervous as he tried to speak the words you had spoken. He could barely remember how you had said them though, the syllables coming out his mouth feeling cracked and awkward.

“H-hi my n-ame is...shit!” He cursed at himself, hating the way the words felt in his mouth. He couldn't say them right, knowing full well he looked like an idiot as his cheeks began to redden.

He heard you giggle next to him, the voice sounding sweet and kind against his ear.

“It okay,” you reassured him, “your just opening your mouth a little too wide...here-“

Before he could register what was even going on, your hand had wrapped delicately around his jaw, the floral scent of your perfume swarming his mind and making him unable to think straight. Your digits were pressing against his hot cheeks, forcing his lips to pout out slightly.

Damn, if he thought he was blushing, it was nothing compared to this-it felt like his cheeks were on fire.

You laughed at his clearly shocked face, his vermillion eyes wide and filled with confusion.

“Don’t worry, Bakugo, I’m just helping you,” you reassured him, your voice feathery as you whispered close to his ear.

Why the hell did that sound so hot?

You sent him another smile, speaking again in Japanese and then back to English, “Just say- ‘Hi my name is Bakugo’,”

he continued to star at you, actually beginning to like the feel your digits pressed against his mouth.

He swallowed, trying to coat his dry mouth with saliva.

“Hi-my name-is-Bakugo,” he stuttered out.

He wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but he had to admit it-his English voice did sound much better with your fingers pressed against his cheeks like that.

You clearly noticed it as well, your face triumphant and proud. “There ya go, that sounded so much better!” You congratulated him, your fingers retracting from his skin.

He already missed the feeling of your cold skin against his hot flesh, his cheeks feeling empty without your digits pressing against them.

He sucked the flesh of his cheeks into his mouth, moving his jaw.

“Shitty woman-need to give me a warning-“ he scolded you, his hands feeling clammy with the sudden change in events.

You rolled your eyes, lying yourself against the couch cushions and returning your gaze to the TV.

“Well, your going to have to get used to it if I’m going to teach you more-“

“Teach me more?!?” He practically yelled out, gaining a few confusing looks from his classmates.

“Of course!” you smiled as if it was obvious, “need to make sure your fluent enough for a conversation dumbie!”

“It’s also fun seeing you blush like that Bakugo,” you playfully nudged his ribcage, sending him a wink as you turned your gaze to the movie, unaware of how flustered you just made him.

Well shit-he thought numbly, a small grin playing against his mouth-you were something else.

Taggings:

@weebartistinc​ @orokayagi​ @leeeah-loooser​ @bakarinnie​

[fanfalc-616]

Time For Amnesia

Chapter Nine: Ice, Electricity, And Painful Injuries

(Previous Chapter Here)

Uhhh ok so I was working on the new chapter and I realized I never even posted chapter nine (on tumblr anyway it’s on ao3-). But uh yeah here it is,,, I’ll post ten (which I finally completed!!) tomorrow.

Also yes this is my new format for all fanfics hsjshdh

Eventually, Nya comes in, looking concerned.

“It’s getting late.” She notes, choosing not to comment on however she feels about how he’s been acting.

Kai nods. “Where am I sleeping?” A sudden thought strikes him. “I- I don’t sleep with… them, do I?”

Nya seems uncomfortable. “We agreed that that would be a bad idea, and before you got together, you used to stay in a different room- the room you woke up in. And-“

“Alright, I’ll just go there and go to bed.” Kai gets up from his spot on the floor.

After pausing for a moment, Nya nods. “Do you need me to show you where it is, or-“

He shakes his head. “I remember.” Without waiting for a response, he heads off to the room, silently grateful for the fact that he’s not going to have to spend the night with the others.

He’s only just sat down when there’s a knock.

Groaning, he gets up and walks over to the entryway, opening the door.

Cole stands there with a small, slight forced smile, holding a set of striped red pajamas. “These are for you.”

Eyeing him warily, Kai takes them. “Uh, th- thanks.” He stutters out, trying to ignore the way his mind flashes back to how he watched him make out with Zane.

“Are you okay? Your face is really red.”

Shit.

“Yeah I’m fine everything’s fine you should go now bye.” Kai blurts out in a rush. As soon as the words have left his mouth, he slams the door shut in his face.

Well, that solved absolutely nothing.

He has enough emotions going on- these people are crazy, and he doesn’t want to have to get to know them or have anything to do with them!

So why is his heart racing? Why does he feel like this?! He doesn’t want to like these assholes, he wants to be able to threaten to skewer them and actually mean it!

With a quiet grumble, he starts getting changed- but he almost drops the pajama shirt when he looks down at his torso.

Since when did he have a six-pack?! It’s not defined like a bodybuilder’s or anything, but he’s definitely got some strong muscles there.

Shaking his head, he goes back to putting on his pajamas. He must seriously work out a lot.

Well, if he’s a ninja savior of Ninjago, then he’s probably going to have to be in good shape.

Sighing, he turns off the light and gets on the bed. Curling up under the covers, he closes his eyes and tries to drift off.

If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll wake up back at home.

—————————

Kai wakes up in the red bed he went to sleep in.

Drat.

With a sigh, he gets up from the bed, and just as he does, the door opens.

Jay stands there, a nervous smile on his face. “I, uh… I guess your internal clock still works. But, uh, it’s breakfast time, so-“

With a groan, Kai walks over to him. “Alright, let’s go eat.” He grumbles.

He pretends not to notice how Jay tries to hold his hand, and after a moment, he stops trying to take it, and Kai ignores how that sparks guilt inside of him. It’s fine, he doesn’t care. He shouldn’t feel bad, he doesn’t even know him!

They’ve only just reached the dining room when an alarm starts blaring. Kai immediately feels himself switch into a fight-or-flight mode, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

Then Nya’s voice comes on over the comms. “Everyone to the bridge! Now!”

Jay tenses up. “C’mon!” Without waiting for a response, he takes off running, leaving Kai to chase him down the halls.

When they arrive at the bridge, everyone else is already there.

Zane immediately starts talking. “There appears to be a genetically engineered snake being used to terrorize New Ninjago City. From what we can tell, it was created by-“

“Cut to the chase!” Nya interrupts.

Lloyd shakes his head. “No, we have comms, we can get an explanation on the way. Let’s go!”

There’s hardly a pause before they all race out of the room- but Lloyd peeks back around the corner to look at him. “You- you just wait here, okay?”

Kai doesn’t get a chance to respond before the blond runs off, leaving him alone.

What the hell just happened?

Still trying to process things, he decides to go into the living room and see if he can watch what’s going on in the news. Whatever’s going on, it seems like a big deal.

So he walks in and turns on the TV, waiting for an explanation to be given.

He watches as a reporter- Gayle Gossip, she said her name was- shows some weird ice snake thing attacking the city. Listening carefully, he can just make out some words that the ninja are saying as they try to stop it.

“- weakness to heat-“

“-Zane, fall back-“

“MOVE!”

Kai stares in horror as he watches Nya get thrown from her vehicle and tossed into a building.

Something in him screams at him to move, and he listens to it, getting up from the couch and scrambling off to wherever the hell his instinct is taking him.

He finds himself in some kind of little launchpad like area for vehicles, and finds himself gravitating towards a red motorcycle.

Oh, what is he doing? He’s not seriously going to try and fight the ice snake, is he?

Yeah. Yeah, he is. Because no one messes with his little sister.

Kai starts up the bike and continues to trust his instincts, just doing whatever feels right.

Which is how he ends up screaming his head off while he falls from the sky on the motorcycle.

The bike falls out from under him, and Kai finds himself flailing about, still screaming.

Until he feels himself get grabbed, and a loud grunt escapes him as he scrambles for purchase on whatever he just fell onto.

He blinks a few times as he realizes that he’s on a- on a dragon what the hell-

Clinging to the rider of the dragon, he feels his eyes widen as he recognizes them.

“Zane?”

The robot looks back at him. “Kai?” He seems shocked. “You were supposed to wait on the ship!”

Before the brunet gets the chance to respond, the tail of the ice snake is suddenly striking towards them, and Zane has the dragon dip, trying to avoid it.

But it’s a rocky move, and they still get hit, the dragon literally disappearing under them.

Kai hits the ground with a loud thudding noise, but luckily enough, he doesn’t seem to be too badly hurt.

He gets to his feet, and Zane quickly runs up to him, getting in close.

Kai’s about to brush him off, but he’s caught off guard by his eyes. His bright blue eyes that glow, and the deep concern behind them as they stare into his own.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” His voice is gentle, full of concern and softness.

Kai swallows, but doesn’t answer, still captivated by the glowing blue irises that seem to stare through to his soul.

“Kai? Please, are you okay?”

He nods shakily, unsure why he’s so affected by something as minor as eye contact.

“I’m going to scan you.” Zane decides, setting a hand on his shoulder. His eyes flicker a little as he looks Kai up and down, a thin band of light emitting from them and falling over Kai’s figure.

And that’s when he snaps out of it.

Stepping away, he shoves Zane back, putting his arms out in front of him in defense. “Woah there, I did not agree to be scanned! So keep that little light show to yourself!”

The robot blinks a few times as he steps back, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “My apologies, I was only trying to-“

The snake’s tail slams into a building, sending wreckage flying everywhere. With a mumbled complaint that Kai can’t quite make out, Zane pulls him aside. “Stay out of trouble. I’ll return when the fight is over.”

Without waiting for a response, he runs off, leaving Kai alone.

He stands there for a few moments, looking around the torn up alley and listening to the nearby noises of combat. Something inside him is itching to go follow, and after a moment of consideration, he runs off towards the battle.

As soon as he gets close, he’s forced to dodge and duck behind some debris to avoid getting frozen by an icy blast. So it’s an ice creature, then?

… fire melts ice, right? Maybe if Kai can get close, he-

“Kai?! What are you doing here?!” Jay shouts, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the way of an attack.

“I’m helping!” Kai defends himself as the ginger uses a blast of lightning to shatter a large chunk of ice that had been flying towards them.

“No! No, you are not! I’m going to have to protect you instead of actually concentrating on the fight! Why didn’t you stay on the ship?!” Jay glares, grabbing Kai by the wrist and pulling him along.

“So I could come help!” The two of them narrowly miss getting impaled by flying concrete as they duck behind a still-intact building.

Jay looks downright furious- an expression that almost looks cute on his baby-ish face. “We have just covered that you are not helping! Not. Helping. Not helping at all!”

Kai feels his face flush some at the scrunched up nose and the way his cheeks puff out. Still, he manages to defend himself. “It’s ice and I have fire powers!”

Grabbing him again, Jay drags him around as they avoid getting impaled by debris created by the snake. “If this snake doesn’t kill you, I will! And if it does, I’ll resurrect you and kill you again!”

Kai arches an eyebrow at the statement. “Aren’t you supposed to be in love with me?” He complains.

Jay gives him a look. “It’s because I love you that I threaten to kill you. Because apparently threatening is your love language.”

“Huh?”

“You do it all the ti- LOOK OUT!” Jay tackles him, sending a blast of lightning at the the tail of the snake that’s crashing down-

Everything goes bright white, and pain wracks his body, making him cry out. They manage to avoid getting crushed, but only just, and the two of them end up sprawled on the ground.

Kai feels himself twitch some, all of his hair on end. Groaning, he glances over at Jay, who’s getting to his feet.

The ginger’s eyes widen as he looks at Kai. “Shit, I- are you okay?! I didn’t mean to shock you!”

He got shocked? Hmm. That would explain the excruciating pain.

With a groan, he forces himself to sit up. “ ‘m doin’ g-great.” He gets out, ignoring his blurry vision as he struggles to his feet.

“Kai-“

Jay is cut off when the snake is suddenly whipping back through, hitting the ginger clear across the alley- and the only reason he stopped there is because of a wall.

Kai winces as he watches Jay get slammed into the concrete. That can’t feel good.

Then again, he’s not exactly in peak condition either.

He struggles to get up a few times before resolving to just lay there. Jay will come get him in a minute, and even though it’s concrete, the ground feels awfully comfortable…

Even as his vision grows more and more blurred, he manages to make out several sets of combat boots, and then someone is picking him up, dragging him away.

Kai lets them, closing his eyes. It’s probably just Cole… yeah, Cole wears black, and is definitely strong enough to carry him around. That would make sense.

The world starts to fade, and Kai doesn’t bother trying to hold onto it.

Everything hurts, and it would be so much easier to ignore it and drift away…

And that’s exactly what he does.