#fuck it doesn’t go to caps automatically

[wormsinsdirt]

I drew the Tommy from the fic I’m writing right now and I’m so pleased with how it turned out :D

[daisynik7]

Nanami relishes the days leading up to vacation almost as much as the vacation itself. 

The two of you are going on a little weekend getaway at an all-inclusive resort, nothing extravagant, but as always, still special. You’ve both had a rough few weeks at work, so to say you’re excited is an understatement. 

Your husband is definitely the type to prepare for the trip days in advanced. He’s already made it known to everyone in the office that he’ll be offline and not at all available to contact as soon as it’s Friday. He’s got his automatic replies already set and scheduled, his calendar marked, the signature in his email updated with his time off, even a big note in all caps on his cubicle whiteboard saying OUT OF OFFICE FRIDAY. He takes care of his meetings early in the week, finishes his tasks by Wednesday, and on Thursday, he’s already checked out. As soon as it’s 5:00 PM, he’s out of his seat, rushing towards the subway.

At home, the packing starts Monday. Little by little, he folds his laundry, neatly tucking it inside his luggage. Fresh pairs of underwear, plenty in case of emergencies. Outfits for each day, casual for poolside, semi-formal for dinners and dancing. Nanami enjoys packing because it means the trip is getting closer and closer. Plus, he adores seeing the clothes you plan to wear for him this weekend, especially that sexy black dress and the skimpy little swimsuit you want to lounge in by the pool. 

When he’s home on Thursday, vacation mode turned all the way on, he’s giddy and silly with glee. “Hello, my love,” he says, sliding his hands around your waist, greeting you with a loud smooch on the cheek as you prepare dinner. He smiles against your skin, snuggling you into a warm embrace.

You giggle, giving him a kiss on the lips. He slips his tongue inside you, swirling it with yours, fingers toying with the elastic of your sweatpants. “Honey,” you whine into his mouth, turning the burner off the stove, chicken stir fry left to sizzle in the hot pan, soon to be abandoned and forgotten. 

“Can you give me a little preview for this weekend? Please sweetheart?” he purrs, grinding himself against you, his cock hard between your ass cheeks. His breath is hot on your ear, thumbs hooked on your waistband, shimmying them down little by little until it falls on its own, pooled at your ankles. You slip your feet out of them, only in your panties now from below the waist, succumbing to desire. 

He takes you on the couch, making you model the black dress he absolutely loves so so much. He bunches the hem into his fists, hoisting it up to your breasts, watching you ride his cock exactly the way you will in the hotel room this weekend, moaning his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear just how fucking good you are for him. “That’s it. That’s my pretty girl. Always riding this cock like a fucking slut.” His thumb is pressed firmly to your clit, massaging slow circles around it, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body, quickly approaching your orgasm. When you come for him, he smirks all cocky like, knowing it’s all for him. 

He lays down on the couch, beckoning you to straddle his face, tongue ready to lick all your juices off. It’s loud as he slurps on your swollen bud, so wet with your slick and his spit smeared over it. His hips buck into the air, cock bobbing against his abdomen with each thrust, a string of precum webbed at the tip. You readjust yourself so that you’re in the proper position to 69, rocking yourself against his open mouth while you lean over him, swallowing his dick into yours. His cockhead bottoms out into the back of your throat, and you gulp him down, caressing his balls in your hand while you stroke him with your lips, coating him in your saliva. He waits until you come once more before he does, guzzling his hot load until no more shoots out. 

It doesn’t end here, though. He won’t be able to sleep tonight until he knows exactly what you look like in that slutty swimsuit of yours. So, he fucks you in the bedroom this time, gripping the bikini to the side, watching with a satisfied smirk as he disappears inside you with each pump of his cock. He’ll feel much better with you wearing this knowing he’s the only one who gets to fuck you in it. 

~~~

Sunday morning, Nanami wakes up, absolutely dreading check-out after such an amazing stay. He turns to face you, cupping your cheek lovingly, trying to think of any way to prolong this trip. So, he does something a little naughty. He sneaks off to the hotel lobby, books the hotel for just one more night, and sets a reminder for himself to call in sick for tomorrow. He’s not quite ready to turn vacation mode off.  

[killshotbabe]

Title | Overheated

Pairing | high school friend’s crush/bf!Jeno x reader ft. nct dream (minor appearance)

Warnings | minors dni! mention of smoking and alcohol consumption, use of swear words, reader stuck in an “uncomfortable” situation, close proximity, drunk!reader at some point, sexual tension, cheating/affair, jeno gaslights reader (or does he really?), fingering, implied solo masturbation, slight somnophilia, a bit "dub non-con" in the beginning, overstimulation, sex under the influence (reader only), dirty talk, unprotected sex (please wear protection!), implied public sex, no romance in any type of context

Word count | 4.5k

Song(s) | red - santino le saint, link up - kid travis

A.N | May or may not have dreamed about the idea of this lol. Just finished it today so happy valentines! (this one-shot won't make you blush that way...)

You’re not sure why your friend decided to it would be a good idea to go out with someone like him to begin with.

At first, you thought she’d get over him like usual, hoping it’s just a part of her “hyper-fixations” just like how she’s got maybe five crushes all at once (from what you can recall in one of those nights you spent hanging out in her bedroom) but much to your horror, it wasn’t as simple as that.

You remember her gawking at him at the cafeteria after she had jokingly pinched you, nudging you to check him out in which caused to roll your eyes and proceed to open the cap of your cold tea.

You didn’t care about crushes at all, and yes, he was cute, handsome even but the only thing that piqued your interest at the moment was that sleek navy blue motorcycle he brought to school. You’ve always wanted one and to say that you were jealous of him flexing one at such young age is nothing but an understatement — you wanted what he had even if you couldn’t afford it.

And that wasn’t fair to you. Not when he barely has to do anything when you’re out here working part-time at a pizza parlour and you can barely even pay half of the bills at home.

Him and his old money status can go to hell, you think. He doesn’t even need to show up to any of his classes and you’re one-hundred percent sure he’ll be able to get into any top universities so easily, he just has to maybe tell his parents—

“Hey, are you listening?”

You blink away from your train of thought, the faint bustle of the library buzzing into your ear.

You realize you’re still in the same place for about three hours now, trying to study with the same friend (which would be your only friend, not best friend yet though because you don’t like getting attached to things, let alone actual people) who had been yapping about him for the past hour, and you may or may not have told her to shut the fuck up in your head twice.

“Wait, sorry.” You lie, typing away as your friend broke into a sly grin after finally catching your attention. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m gonna talk to Jeno today.”

Jeno.

Him.

You couldn’t help but squint, almost bursting out of laughter.

You didn’t mind your friend at all.

She was fun, even if she’s the complete opposite of you. Loved cute things like pastel colours, calico critters and dressed the part as 1/4 of the future art majors in your campus (quirky, and she happened to obsessed with colour yellow), and collects a shit ton of squishmallows she even has a separate storage for it. She’s literally the true epitome of cute, preppy and pure.

Way too pure when it comes to that said department actually.

You weren’t even sure how someone like you were friends with her, and why she wouldn’t leave you alone but she was quite persistent with you — having to initiate things first after meeting you then following you around until you decided to just let her have at it.

Ever since then the two of you had been inseparable.

Though that didn’t mean you two were automatically best friends (even if she did say this a couple of times) and you would be lying if you saw it that way too when she mostly talked about herself, her hobbies, her interests, etc. unlike you who just sits there and listens, nodding your head off as if you do agree (mostly you don’t because you can’t relate or it’s just not your style) but you don’t really have the heart to tell her that… not when she’s generally nice and hasn’t really done anything to offend you.

You just admire the fact that she keeps dragging you around and never gave up on you. You don’t even know what made her want to work her butt off to earn your approval and have her invade your space like that, but you guessed that maybe she’s just someone you might need in your life.

…And that maybe, she’s there for a reason you can’t quite guess.

She hasn’t done anything stupid anyway.

…Until today.

“What?”

You balked, brows raised as she sighed dreamily, already planning her wedding dress for when she ends up marrying Jeno, her “soon-to-be high school sweetheart” as she mentioned just a few times and might have tried to manifest too with you in her room in front of her mini crystal collection she’s been obsessed with lately.

“I’m gonna say hi to him today! I’m sick of him not knowing who I am.”

If anything, you weren’t really surprised with this sudden revelation.

It was about time for her to finally try to introduce herself to him after crushing on him for two months now, and you do know she would have the great confidence to almost pursue anything, including him but you didn’t really want this day to come (hell, the thought of it was already dreadful) because you already knew what was bound to happen once she approaches him.

It’s like… surrendering a fawn to a den full of lions, and you can’t do anything but watch her get eaten, figuratively-speaking.

“You don’t look too happy, but that won’t stop me y’know.”

She winked mischievously, stealing a tomato chip off your lunch as you shook your head, a little smile playing on the edge of your lips.

“Do whatever you want but don’t rope me into your shit.”

You shrugged only to earn a scowl from her, her round eyes practically begging you to tag along when she introduces herself to him later on.

“But… c’mon! You don’t even have to say anything you just have to be there for moral support, pretty please?”

You could only sigh, pausing whatever you were doing just to look at her in the eye, already incapable of saying ‘no’ to her because in your defense she looked too cute.

You couldn’t afford to break her heart by saying no.

“Fine… whatever! Just get me ice cream after then we’re good.”

“Oh, I was about to say that too in case he rejects me ha ha,” she laughs off as she sipped on her watered down mango juice. “But at least I tried, yes? Then we can just enjoy our little ice cream date but I might cry…”

You weren’t even worried about that all, but you don’t say that part to your friend because guys like Jeno fancied cute girls.

Especially the innocent ones.

And your friend just might be the perfect girl for him.

To say that you weren’t right would be a goddamn lie, and you wished you were anywhere else but here, inside Jeno’s black sports car, the posh leather seat cold under your lap.

It’s been a month since the day your friend had introduced herself to him with such spark in her eyes you thought Jeno’s friends might have fallen for her too. One of them was even eyeing her from head to toe, visibly amused after seeing her short little skirt hugging her little frame.

Your friend, on top of being the real embodiment of cute, was still gorgeous and easy on the eyes, so it didn’t really surprise you when Jeno ended up giving his number to her as you tucked yourself away from his plain sight, hiding behind your much shorter friend when she confessed her feelings to him with so much confidence, it made you gag.

You weren’t really sure what happened overnight but just a week after, you found yourself on your own as your friend started hanging out with Jeno, his friends and their equally cute “girlfriends”, but she still made sure to spend half of her lunch break with you, even trying to drag you to their table but you could only reject her offer and excuse yourself because you had to catch up on an “assignment” when in reality, you would rather sit in the library by yourself than sit with them.

Then, today, you and your friend was supposed to go shopping by train but what she didn’t tell you was Jeno was gonna be there to drive the two of you so you don’t have to commute on the way to the mall and on the way back.

At first, you fumed having to deal with him being in an inclosed space as you, but it was indeed cold outside now that it’s halfway October and you certainly didn’t want to wait for the train with you friend in this type of weather (and maybe you did want to see his car up close and personal…) so you begrudgingly agreed, letting her yank you off your misery and plunge you into it all when she voluntarily pushed you to the backseat, your eyes drifting to Jeno who’s still talking to one of his friends, Mark, another guy from his group you do find just as attractive.

You could only roll your eyes as your friend wore her seatbelt on, giddily humming to herself. You gradually shifted your attention elsewhere, quite amazed with the clean and sleek interior of his car, but again it made sense.

Jeno was neat, never messy.

“Sorry, Mark was being clingy.”

You briefly hear him quickly apologize with a low chuckle as he slipped behind the wheel, his classy, citrusy scent invading your senses.

You cross your arms and looked away, trying to get him off your head as your friend’s slightly high-pitched voice cooed him “it”s okay!” and that “we can wait” ultimately, ignoring that fact that she just called him “babe” after.

This was one major thing you couldn’t bring yourself to fully admit — the fact that he’s now officially “seeing” your friend not even after a few months in which you felt no ounce of happiness about.

Your friend did inform you about it just a few nights before when she asked if you could come over and watch a scary movie with her because she noticed you were too busy and had no time with her (and you did feel bad because even if she’s always with him, she till spent some time with you only for you to run away for the most part) but she didn’t confront you about it at all.

If anything, it seemed like the usual chill nights you’d share with her until she brought him up and dropped the bomb on you without some sort of a warning beforehand especially when she can tell you’re not fond of Jeno nor his friends.

It felt like a sick joke, and it just feels like you friend is doing her best to make you change your mind about him which you don’t plan on doing so, not when you catch him doing PDA with your friend here and there you couldn’t help but swear at him in your head and look away.

The more time you had to spend with those two, sometimes with their friends, made you want to crumble or run off to the opposite direction.

They were exactly like what you imagined them to be, a couple of rich, privileged kids with filthy heads, the filth your friend is too innocent to be able discern.

They were sneaky about it too especially that Haechan guy who might have tried to get into your pants before, and you hated him so bad you had to tell him to back off you in which he called you feisty in return with the sinister promise of “you’ll want me someday.” before he left you to go smoke.

The rest of the group hasn’t really said anything to you yet. Sometimes they did but it was shallow and the girls hated your guts which is fair because you hated them as much (and with passion too). The only person you could perhaps stand in the group was Renjun.

The guy didn’t make any back-handed comments and he kept to himself for the most part but he did flash you a gaze occasionally wondering why you’re even here to begin with when it’s so damn obvious you don’t like anyone except your friend who always made sure you were included even if you tried to get away, and when you do try… it always ends with her getting what she wants.

And now you’re here, lost in your thoughts as you bore your full attention to the rows of yellow lights in the tunnel, the loud laughter your friend shared with Jeno mocking you.

He did leave the two of you alone to go shopping, and just came back to pick the you up as promised, then he’s supposed to drop you off first before her then they might go on a date like she told you earlier with so much excitement she couldn’t even choose between the two purses at a high-end store you were helping to choose from.

In the end, the two of you walked out the store satisfied — her with a new heart-shaped purse and you with a cashmere scarf you’ve been fancying on for months now that was on sale (which did hurt your bank account but your friend offered to pay half of it so you can just pay her back with instalments) this then provided some sort of a distraction for you, even offering to buy her a warm drink from the cafe as a sweet treat but since Jeno was already parked by the exit, you had to hurry.

They were still giggling as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the urge to strap your headphones around your head getting stronger the more you tuned in, even rolling your eyes when Jeno asked for her hand so he could give it a kiss as if you weren’t just there, witnessing the horrors.

Much to your looming demise, you try to relax and lay your head back with a determined attempt to lull yourself to quick nap anyway since your apartment is around thirty minutes away, so you fold your arms, turned your head to face the window and closed your eyes.

Not even ten minutes later, just when you were about to actually let sleep take over, your hear the deep rumble of Jeno’s voice.

“She’s asleep isn’t she?”

There was a slight movement from your friend, causing you to hold your breath as you feel her check on you.

“Yep, she did say she was tired.”

“She doesn’t talk much. Why are you even friends with her?”

Jeno snickered, taunting you from the rear-view mirror as you tried your best not to reach out and strangle him god willing.

He doesn’t even know you like that.

“She’s nice! Just give her some time.” You friend sighed, defending your honour which you almost snorted at but pretending to be asleep at this very moment was more ideal for you, you think.

You pushed yourself to further into the door, eyelids slightly parting just in time to see him give her a sleazy wink before you saw his hand land on her lap, making your heart drop at the sight.

You weren’t sure if you liked where this was going at all.

“She’s sleeping Jeno…”

You clawed on your sleeved, clenching your jaw when you hear Jeno whisper rather suggestively.

You knew it was meant for your friend, but he didn’t even bother hiding it, assuming you’re fully knocked out at the back seat.

“If you can keep it down, she won’t know.”

You swore you almost cried, knuckles turning white for how hard you formed into fists when you hear your friend’s shy giggles which enveloped to a series of quiet moans from the front seat when he began touching her down there as he drove, the soft r&b blaring from his speakers in an attempt to suppress the noises your friend was trying so hard to hide so she won’t wake you up, when in reality, you were very much awake to witness all of this happening.

At this point, you genuinely wished you were dead, begging for the door to just unlatch itself so you can slide off your seat and fall into the road to your death than sit here, being forced to hear your friend let out a strangled moan as he fingered her, easily dragging her close to her peak.

You wanted it to stop — for them to just cut it out and put an end to your nightmare but it only got worse as the time went by.

You can practically hear the lewd noises Jeno was making with his fingers as he played with her sheer arousal and the way he was talking to her in such a dirty manner for the sole purpose to make her cum in which she violently did just a few minutes later, an animalistic high-pitched squeak leaving her lips before she heaving and moaning his name shakily with him still fucking her with fervour, overstimulating her.

The subsequent scarlet hue spread on your cheeks, heating your face up, second-hand embarrassment kicking in as you chewed on your lip until you drew blood from your cracked ones, neck craning all the way to your side so your scarf could hide the horrified expression on your face.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or laugh — cry because he had the audacity to finger your friend at your presence or laugh because of the high-pitched noise your friend made. You think it’s a mixture of both and you think you might have gone clinically insane from that alone as this was not a part of your bingo card.

It’s only been a few weeks. Have they fucked already?

You try to contain yourself as you kept still when you hear them share a languid kiss in which your friend giggled to before she flashed you a quick gaze, making sure you were in fact, still asleep.

“She probably didn’t hear that did she?”

“I’m sure she didn’t.” Jeno’s mocking tone caused you to move slightly, but not enough to make him think you were awake all along.

Your neck became stiff after what seemed like forever, and as much as you wanted to stay in this painful position you knew you had rouse yourself up just because you couldn’t handle “sleeping” anymore, so you waited until your friend led him to your street as she navigated for him.

It was then the only time you stirred yourself up, alerting the both of them that you were now “awake.”

“Hey, sleepy head!”

You yawned, trying to look at her in the eye in the dark as you borrowed into your scarf, hiding half of your face.

“Yo.”

You diverted your to the windows and recognized your surroundings as the car halted just in front of your apartment complex, relief surging through you in sudden realization that you’re finally home.

“Thank god.”

You murmured under your breath, hand already fixed to the door handle, about to yank yourself out of there when your friend stopped you just before you can leave.

“See you next week!”

She piped up, her pupils shaking in pure excitement you almost asked what the hell she smoked to look like that when you already knew it was due to post-orgasm high.

You couldn’t help but to mirror her expression, but with a completely different reason.

You think you might want to commit right there if you kept smiling for ten more seconds, much like an unhinged criminal.

“Yeah! See you and thanks for the ride, Jeno.”

“Anytime.”

You see him nod at you, acknowledging your thankful nature (he probably though you were incapable of doing that) before you sprinted off, the two of them watching you attentively as you pushed yourself inside the lobby, cursing vehemently under your breath.

You didn’t even sleep that night, not when you find your underwear being wet from your own arousal after thinking about it again.

You don’t even like Jeno to any degree and yet, you still dreamed of him but not for good reasons.

Not at all.

And if your friend was to find out, it would be game over.

//

“I might have a friend who can take me in so Tony can come and fix this.”

You sigh, seeing as how the flooding got worse over the weekend due to the nonstop rainy weather and you, unfortunately, still rents the basement of a hosting family your mother personally knew but since they were on vacation in the UK and the main floor is locked, you can’t even access the floor and camp in the couch until the flooding issue gets fixed.

You’ve been on the phone with your host for an hour now explaining everything, and that they were going dispatch a friend to fix the damage shortly but still advised you that you’ll probably want to look for a friend to sleep over at for the mean time which you were okay with but you didn’t really want to do that even if you had no choice.

Hotels were costly so you dialled your only friend anyway whilst chugging what’s left from your coffee cup before tossing it in the nearby bin.

You’re in a local library now, left with nothing but a small suitcase you hastily shoved most of your every day necessities in to cover one week’s worth. Your host did say it should be okay to come back in a week or less so you made sure not to overpack, and you didn’t really want to stay there for longer, not when the slightly murky water felt cold around your feet.

“What? Are you serious!”

You sighed for what seemed like the 100th time today as you told your friend the whole situation.

“Not sure if this is going work but do you think you can take me in?” You inwardly groaned. “I can pay you.”

“Boo, I wish I can but my aunt’s over with my cousins I don’t have a space for you. Maybe after four days? They leave on Friday!”

“Well that won’t work, thank you though. I’ll go find a hotel—”

“No, no that’s going to be more expensive I can get someone to take you in though if that’s ok?”

You hummed, picking on your nail at the thought. Might as well give it a try.

“Sure…?”

“Ok, great! Give me a sec!”

You hear some sort of a movement from the other line before you hear your friend’s muffled voice once again.

“I just texted Jeno! He should be done working out right now. Where are you?”

“What?!” You let out a harsh whisper, trying to calm down realizing you’re in fact, still in a library. “Jeno—? I didn’t even agree just yet!”

“Well, he’s the only person I one-hundred percent trust with you even if you guys don’t talk but he’s got a huge place you can stay in and then he can even pick both of us up for school!”

“No,” You clutched your head in annoyance, trying your best not to hiss. “I— I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“What? Why? He already said he can do that though just now and I really don’t want you to spend money in a hotel. Too expensive. Good luck with Jeno though because he’ll say no with paying so you’re in good hands!” She laughed a little, making you huff on the other line. “Please? Maybe you guys can be friends. It gets so awkward when I’m with the both of you and you don’t even talk to him…”

“It’s just…” You try to explain. “I don’t know I feel like it’s so rude of me to just—”

“Honey, you’re not being rude! He literally said yes, and he’s got like two cars over there that you might like. If you ask nicely, maybe he can let you drive one to school? How about that?”

You wished she didn’t mention that at all, especially knowing that sport scars were your weakness in general and Jeno happened own two more aside from the one he drives to school.

You weren’t even sure if you had any ounce of dignity left at this point.

Hotels were costly, and you didn’t want to ask your mom for money to spend in a hotel thinking you’ve got a friend to cover for you, plus what you make from your part-time job wasn’t enough to foot the bill if you were to opt for a hotel.

If it was someone else, perhaps Mark or Renjun, you would probably agree without missing a beat (not like they would offer themselves in the first place, but if they did, you’d rather be with them) but this was Jeno.

The guy you’re friend is “seeing” and the same guy you thought about that night when you shouldn’t have.

You don’t even know if you could look at him in the eye anymore, and now you would have to stay over because he’s that nice?

“Heeeey, are you okay? I thought you ended the call for a second there.”

You cleared your throat, trying to make up your mind.

Am I gonna do this or not? Why the fuck would he even agree to this…

“I’m here sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I really want you guys to start talking… Don’t you think this is a good idea? He thinks it might be good too.”

“He said that?” You almost laugh. “Thank you, but…”

“He did actually and no buts! Do this for me please?”

“You… fine, fine…” You say as you give up, letting her win over you again.

“Okay! Yay!”

You hear her clasp her hands together before she asked where your exact location was again, intending to forward it to Jeno.

In the end, she simply gave your number to him so it would be easier, logically speaking, but you didn’t even want to save his number at all or have that exchange. It felt so weird to have him there, in your short list of contacts when you don’t even consider him a “friend” for that matter.

You weren’t even sure if you were doing your friend a “favour” even if she did say she trusts Jeno because deep down, you knew she shouldn’t be putting all the trust to him, not when you’re in the picture.

Especially not when you’re about to be confined in one space with no one else but him for god knows how long.

//

He didn’t even bat an eye when you slipped into the front seat of his car as he was in the middle of a conversation what you can assume would be Jaemin, blabbing something about some new pc game he got, so you strapped your seatbelt on quietly, not sure when would be the good time to thank him when you can’t even look at him in the eye.

“K, heading home. Talk later.”

He didn’t say anything either so you slowly fixed half of your attention to the road ahead of you and his one hand steering the wheel expertly, then gradually moved past that so you can finally glance up there, to his gorgeous side profile in which you admire a little.

He’s even more handsome this close, with his tall nose, perfect jawline and glowing fair skin — you thought you might have forgotten your words but you quickly look away, feeling the nervous energy course through your veins.

“No thank you?”

There was a slight tinge of tease in his tone, so you clear your throat, refusing to actually spare him another glance afraid that he might catch you looking more that you should have.

“Sorry… Just sad about the whole situation, but thank you for taking me in. I hope that’s okay with your parents…”

“Don’t worry.” He chuckled a little. “They’re in the Caribbean Islands right now. No one’s home.”

“Oh, that’s great.” You weren’t even sure if that offered some sort of relief on your end. “Always wanted to go there.”

“Maybe if you start hanging out with us more then I can take you there for the summer with the group?”

You think he might be joking, so you treat it as such, trying not to derail from what seemed like a pleasant conversation you two are actually having.

You knew your friend would be happy to hear the fact that you can actually get along just fine, but because of how you see Jeno and his friends in such a negative light, you’re not sure if you had the ability to stop being stubborn for once.

“Maybe.”

You sigh, now shifting your gaze to him again, noticing his muscular, yet lean upper body hugged by just one layer of his black turtle neck. You couldn’t help but to ogle a little, but you do look away, feeling the slight guilt creeping down your spine.

He’s literally one move away from dating your friend, so why do you find it so hard to look away? Not when there are more conventionally attractive guys in the group? Like Mark? Renjun?

I have eyes. I can look, that’s it. It won’t hurt.

“Oh, c’mon the more the merrier.” There was some sort of a drawl in his tone you couldn’t quite miss, but maybe you might have been imagining things. “Let’s see if I end up liking you enough though then maybe I’ll work so hard to drag you into the group and come with us to the Caribbean next summer vacation, yeah?”

Or were you really imagining things?

//

The first night wasn’t bad.

You learn that your friend wasn’t exaggerating when she did tell you he lives in a mansion.

There was a huge fountain in the middle of a private cul-de-sac, two mermaids made out of a slab of rock perched in right in the centre, flowing water trickling from the matching queen conches.

The gate was tall, and the impressive gigantic lot is nestled in what seemed like a canopy of endless tall pine trees. They literally had no neighbours close by and the entirety of the driveway was an actual boulevard, you think they could possibly fit another house over the area.

It felt like you entered a different dimension — the gated community of the rich didn’t feel real at all. Even the air felt expensive, and just when you thought that wasn’t enough, Jeno allowed you to spare a longing gaze to his two other fancy cars parked in a quadruple-door garage.

He did notice your obvious interest with the exterior of his cars so he lets you have your fun until you found yourselves darting inside his own floor which could pass as some sort of a penthouse.

You think he might not even see his parents even if they were in one house altogether halfway in. Hell, if there was party being hosted by him for two days in a row his parents won’t probably hear any of it.

“I have a spare room when the guys sleep over so you can stay there for now. Don’t think I’d have anyone over soon so you’re good.”

You stand in the middle of the spare room, checking the surroundings like some sort of a curious cat.

It was super neat, had some distinctive art pieces by the walls, but it did look like where they would hang out judging from the game consoles tucked into the black drawers under the gigantic screen tv and the mini fridge with a snack bar situated in a corner surrounded by neon lights.

“Thanks again, Jeno.”

You tell him as he leaned against the doorway, a pleasant expression on his face upon noticing the way you looked awestruck with the room arrangement.

“No probs. I’m just one door away so let me know if you need anything. Usually up until 1 am. My maid isn’t here she’s on vacay so just it’s just us two.”

“Sure.”

He left you alone like that, letting you bask at thought of him even having a maid. You think he might have an entire staff like a “head chef” running the house, but sooner or later you learn they’re all on vacation since they were all related which leaves you and Jeno all alone in such a big house, though despite that, you couldn’t help but feel the foreboding anxiety blaring through you like fire alarms.

There was an itch you couldn’t pinpoint and it drove you crazy the more you stayed over, and even if the first night went equally well like normal, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of guilt wrecking through you, so for the next two days you got in touch with Tony, the maintenance guy, in hopes to hear something positive about the situation back home so leave early.

Much to your demise, it won’t be until a few days so you gave up, trying to calm yourself down as you tucked yourself to bed right after doing your homework on your third night.

Your friend visited you a few hours before but since her and Jeno had plans for the night which involved the guys, Jeno might be coming home around dawn. You couldn’t help but feel the crash of relief to be finally alone for once which was bad for you to admit since you’re literally staying in his house for free, but having him there to share a space with made you feel too damn guarded and you hated that.

It wasn’t like he was watching you either — if anything, you’re the one who was doing more of that especially when you ate together after he offered to cook, and if he did order take-out, he asked what you wanted and delivered it right to your door just because you didn’t feel like going downstairs when you should’ve offered but upon finding out he was in the ground floor from their own home gym, you decided not to.

He didn’t even bother putting a shirt on when he knocked on your door, letting you see his bare abs through the wide split of the door so you were quiet thankful you didn’t make your way downstairs even when the damage has been done and it did nothing but make things worse for you.

“The passcode is the last four numbers of you number.”

He concluded as he gave you a quick rundown of instructions in terms of the security system.

You nodded obediently, quite touched at the fact that he made you your own designated password even if you’re only staying for a couple of days.

You weren’t friends with him yet, but he sure made things easier and was quite civilized the entire time, even putting all the trust in you to be in the house but the cams were all on so he can literally see what you would be up to unless you lock yourself in your room.

You follow closely behind him and your friend now holding hands with him as the three of you entered the garage. Your friend gave you a little pat on a head muttering a “good girl” in a light, teasing tone before they eventually drove away, leaving you by yourself for the next few hours.

You actually planned to do a mini tour and explore the other floors besides Jeno’s floor but because you didn’t want to end up falling to any “trap” doors (Jeno did mention that once as a joke but you didn’t want to risk it) you chose to stay in your room instead and watched movies on netflix with a plan to reheat the leftover pizza from last night.

Around midnight, you found yourself by the mini bar, wanting to try some of the alcohol he had so you pop a Hennessy from the glass shelf into a mug instead to pair with some sun chips to munch on at midst of a thriller movie you picked.

After downing what seemed to be a couple of glasses within the passing hours, you nursed an impending headache throbbing in your head. You could only curse, the thought of being completely hangover the next day already pissing you off.

You were more of a social drinker, but you think it’s been a while since the last time you attended a party and back then, it wasn’t so bad. You were still able to walk and say sentences incoherently after a few shots but this was worse.

You’re severely tipsy at this point, gaze all hazy as you attempt to shut the tv off, squinting over the rolling credits you can barely read off from.

You yank your crewneck over your head after feeling too hot, opting for just a mid-length slip as you tumbled out of your room, wanting to head to the bathroom with the sudden urge to splash some icy cold water on your face but you weren’t fully thinking as to where you were heading until you managed to somehow push into Jeno’s room, arms splayed in the dim-lit space.

You stumbled your way into his own bathroom adjacent to his bookcase, locking yourself in.

You were about to pass out inside, suddenly too sleepy to function but still made it out of there only to end up locating his equally large, yet better bed, his sheets cool under your skin which eased up the liquid fire running in your bloodstream.

You weren’t really sure what you did next, but the faint smell of his citrusy scent from his nice, cold sheets, you didn’t care about anything else and instead, slept through the great comfort of it all.

Unbeknownst of you, Jeno did end up going back home earlier than planned, but without your friend this time.

He was too exhausted to even notice that something was truly off by the time he got into bed, shirt off, sleep knocking him out a few minutes in.

“She won’t know.”

He placed your arms on the curve of your back as he pinned you to the wall in a hallway absent of any light.

You feel his sweet, minty breath on your nape, his strong hand tight around your wrists in a vice grip with the intention of not letting you go.

You were so breathless now, letting him do what he wished, his free hand tracing the outline of your thigh as he yanked the hem of your dress upwards, groping you from behind, whispering sinisterly in your ear before kissing the slant your shoulder, his hand snaking dangerously inside the silk fabric until he replaced your bra with his, playing with your breasts in a manner that drove you nuts.

“You’ve thought about this haven’t you?” He pressed, as you whimpered helplessly, back arched with your behind brushing against his. “Answer.”

“Y-yes…”

You sigh, unable to control the soft moan emitting from your throat when he eventually slid his hand in your underwear, callused fingers rubbing your clit now covered with pure arousal, spreading it all over your aching sensitivity.

“I didn’t even have to spit.” He hissed sardonically. “But I think you’ll like that, yeah? What do you think? Do you want me to spit on your pussy?”

“F-fuck… yeah…”

You feel him pull his fingers off you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact when you hear him spit behind you, immediately sliding his hand back into your soiled underwear after doing so, messily mixing the glob of his spit with your slick arousal you think if he kept this up, you would cum in no time without even having him fuck you at all.

“You’re disgusting…” He hummed in satisfaction, ultimately parting your pussy lips so he can pump a finger in, his lips leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your spine. “I like that.”

You hear him groan at the feeling your tight walls around his long, slender fingers, a series of swears rolling off your mouth when he began fingering you, fucking his spit into your throbbing hole all desperate for him and him only.

You rubbed your thighs together in a desperate attempt to itch the pulsating sensation between your legs, the bundle of nerves you eventually pressed on in your sleep made you whimper softly, the pleasurable feeling intensifying the more you rubbed yourself.

This was the second time Jeno had unmercilessly plagued your dreams again — like an incubus haunting you in your sleep, but in the end, he gives you what you desire — to come so hard you thought you’d black out.

You’ve never even drawn yourself to that type of high before you even knew who he was, but after what happened in the car, you couldn’t help but think of how good it would be to have him fuck you instead of your friend.

You did feel guilty for having this type of thoughts about your friend’s own boyfriend, but having him wreck havoc in your head after hours, was mind-numbing, it was almost addicting.

You’ve tried and fought so hard to stop thinking about him, trying to replace his face with someone else like Mark, or even Renjun or some other celebrity you fancied but when you’re just a minute away from reaching your peak, you can’t help but bring him back and let him take over you, his face alone making you come so hard your legs would shake as the raw lust mixed with shame riddled all over your skin.

Tonight was the same, except you were actually in his house and on his bed, touching yourself without any awareness about your surroundings and absolute care in the world, not when you had creeped your finger inside your now wet underwear, intending to finger yourself on your side, but before you could do that, you tucked yourself under the comforter seeking for warmth, back flat on the mattress as you slide your hand back in, moaning at the contact once again, legs propped with your knees bumping against each other as you played with yourself, eyes tightly shut.

“It hurts…” You whimpered lightly, still dreaming as you tilt your head to the side, brows furrowing in frustration. “I need…”

Jeno, who had been sleeping just right beside you, eventually stirred, turning to face you with a sigh, starting to be aware with the noises you were making but thought it was a part of what seemed like a dream for him too so he made no move until you inched closer and closer, now only one move away from touching him.

You’re facing him now, his familiar sweet scent elating your senses, it being the only thing to make you move faster, your middle finger playing with your growing wetness before you eventually slid it in, biting your lip at how tight you felt and wishing it was him doing it for you instead.

“Jeno…” You huff, you free hand snaking under your slip to grope your breast, hissing from how hard your nipples had gotten.

Jeno, now half-asleep, responded with a tired “hmm” as he hovered closer, his hand landing on your hip to pull you closer to him, sealing the small gap between the both of you with his face now resting on the curve of your shoulder.

He hears you purr sweetly, fingering yourself faster when you feel him lay a light kiss on your bare skin, his hand finding your jaw so he can tilt your chin up, kissing you there but deeper.

You didn’t even care anymore. No shame surging through you thinking this was a mere wet dream even if it felt too real, so real you could actually see him in the shadow but because the lights were so dim, you couldn’t make a face but his beautiful scent and warmth was more than enough.

You just needed to feel him, have him ruin you more just like how he does in your dreams.

“Aren’t you tired?” He whispered huskily, realizing you were fingering yourself when he circled his own around your wrist, stopping you. “What are you doing?”

“I want…” You mumbled, distress coating your tone when he yanked your hand from your underwear ever so gently. “I want to cum…”

“Want to?” he cooed, keeping his eyes close as he parted his lips open to suck your slick arousal from your fingers, earning another moan from you before he let you grab him on the shoulder, his own hand now snaking inside your underwear.

“Fuck, just-just put it in, please…” You begged, circling your arms around his neck as you lifted your leg, resting it on his hip.

You hear him hum, the deep rumble of it making your head go numb.

He wasted no time, pleased with your whines when he slid his finger inside your soaked pussy, fingering you slowly until you found yourself in a verge of breaking out of a sob, your knuckles turning white on his shoulder as he fucked you faster and harder at your request, fully attentive with the way you were squeezing him, sucking him further into your throbbing cunt, making him go crazy for how increasingly wet you’ve become.

“J-jeno!”

You half-screamed, back arching as he hovered on top of you, his head disappearing on the crook of your neck to kiss you right there before you feel his teeth bite the strap of your slip, yanking it down your shoulders.

He was going way faster now, fingers curving up to rammed on your sweet spot as you struggled under him, thighs closing tightly around his flexed arm just when you’re about to reach your peak.

“Don’t you want to come?” He smiled sleepily, sucking your left nipple with so much want it only drove you closer to your orgasm. “If you’re a good girl, you will, won’t you?”

It was scary how it feel too damn real — you could even hear him up close and personal and it was too overwhelming, but you couldn’t open your eyes, not wanting this dream to ever end, not when he’s about to make you cum so hard like this.

So you pushed through it, the lewd squelching of your wetness from him fucking into you the only thing you could hear, his equally pleased moans gracing your ears when you tell him you’re almost there.

“Fuck, fuck…fuck! I’m,” You cried, shaking violently as you finally snapped, hands flying on his in an attempt to stop him from fingering you in a brutal pace but he didn’t allow you.

Instead, he forced you to ride through it all as you cursed, head thrown back until you began sob from overdrive, thrashing and squirming under him only to make him pin your arms above your head, your slip pulled all the way to your neck, letting him feel your bare skin, your underwear being torn by him, tossing it on the marbled floors.

“I’m fucking you.” He growled, eyes parting slightly, unable to see you fully but the feeling of having you all naked and weak under him made him a little crazy. He wasn’t even sure if this was just a dream anymore, but he had his own personal desires needed to be taken care of. “You’ll let me, right?”

“Please…” You begged as he lifted your dress all the way to your face, turning it into a blindfold causing you to spread your legs wider for him, too aroused with the way he was trying to limit your senses. “Fuck… just do whatever you want, please…use..use me…”

“Can you even take me?” He smirked, tracing small kisses from your jaw all the way to your sternum as your breath hitched. “You’re this desperate, huh?”

You hear him unbuckle his belt as you begged, wanting him to give it to you already, afraid that this dream might come into an end.

“Please, Jeno…”

“Sounds better when you say it like that…”

He sighed, giving himself a few generous strokes before you felt the tip of his hard cock rub your pussy, giving you a few jabs before he slowly slipped inside you just halfway, wanting you to get used to his size so he waits for a tap which came just a few moments later, and gives it to you, a matching lustful moan being knocked out from yours and his.

“So b-big…”

You grabbed his biceps as he held his breath, trying his best not to fuck you like a wild animal for how amazingly tight and warm you felt around him, squeezing around him repeatedly, almost drawing him to the edge.

“Your pussy can take it…” He whispered, fucking into you slowly. “If I fuck you like this, you’ll take it…and if I go faster?”

“Ah!” You cried as he snapped his hips into you, the wetness of your pussy coating his entire cock, drawing him deeper into your cunt. “Don’t stop… fuck, f-fuck feels so good, so so good.”

“I know, baby…” He hissed vehemently, face buried into the crook of your neck as you let him fuck you faster, the slightly deep baritone of your tone intensifying the fact that he wants to ruin you, even if this wasn’t reality because god knows what he will do it had been, but for some reason, he didn’t felt any type of shame if this wasn’t a dream— just the carnal desire he felt for you, the girl who seemed to hate him for no valid reason.

You clutched the sheets as he pistons in and out of you, ultimately driving the both of you to each other’s peak.

He doesn’t let you touch him, his hand fixed to your wrists on top of your head as your jaw went slack, breath hitching as your legs trembled, alerting him that you were there.

“Fuck, spread your legs wider.” He demanded through gritted teeth, strong thighs stuttering against yours as you obediently did what he asked. “That’s it, pretty girl.”

It didn’t take long when the two of you finally came, you being the first to snap as he followed-through just a few seconds later, pulling out of you so he can cum on his bed sheet instead.

You immediately fell asleep right after, smiling through it all just like he did, the looming taste of regret awaiting to ruin everything in the morning.

Or would it?

//

You awoke to an unfamiliar bed, already panicking upon finding out you’ve been sleeping in his room the entire time so you quickly pad down the silent hall, disappearing inside your own room with a huff.

You ignore the throbbing headache in your head as sat on your bed, a little shaken and not knowing to go about explaining what just happened if he was aware of it, but you think he’s not even home or if he was, did he end up sleeping elsewhere?

You grabbed your crewneck and fixed yourself in front of the mirror, about to head downstairs and find him when you feel something odd, so you lift the hem of your dress, discovering that you didn’t even have an underwear on.

The memory of him taking it off you haunted your train of thought — last night felt too raw, too real and you think it maybe because you’re starting to be delusional, using the advantage of staying in his house and touch his stuff that weren’t yours.

You assume this might have catered to it all and you weren’t even sure if that’s something to be happy or angry about.

You figured it wasn’t — in fact, it was too wrong and you wanted out so you immediately text Tony for an update before heading downstairs to find Jeno.

Jeno, you learn, was not alone.

It was a Saturday after all, and he happens to be on the phone by the living room, his full attention watching the glowing fireplace in front of him, energy drink on-hand as your friend darted from the kitchen, immediately seeing you.

“Oh, she’s up!” She announced, running to hug you with a beam. “Jina and I are going to get our nails done and she’s picking me up, you wanna come?”

“Oh, um… that’s okay.” You falter as Jeno turned to look at you, gaze unreadable. “I’m leaving soon anyway, like going back to my place.”

“Oh! Well maybe next time? Jeno is leaving soon too but won’t be dropping me off. Jeno, help her okay?”

You avoid the way he’s looking at you now, quite embarrassed with the fact that you literally just slept in his bed and even dreamed of him fucking you. You just hoped he had no idea, and if he did know, you knew you couldn’t bear to show face any longer.

“I’ll plan us another date. Just you and I. I promise!”

You let your friend drag you to the entrance and albeit dazed from the unholy thoughts you were suddenly having about Jeno, you managed to brush it off and watch your friend leave, waving her a small good-bye, the guilt surging through you once again after seeing her.

You were just about to lock the door when you feel him hover behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the sound of his deep voice invading your cloud of thoughts.

“I’m gone for one night and you’re suddenly touching stuff that aren’t yours?”

So he did know. But does he know?

“I’m sorry…” You exhale, sighing regretfully but refused to look at him in the eye. “Got a little drunk then looked for the bathroom—“

“See… that wasn’t the only thing I’m upset about though.”

You gulped as you feel him walk closer so you slowly back away, the shocked gasp leaving your lips as you feel the pressure of the door behind you, him towering over you now.

“What?”

“Do you know what I’m talking about?” He questioned, a little on edge. “Don’t act dumb now.”

“I said I was drunk and I’m sorry.” You apologized sincerely, the overwhelming silence skyrocketing your anxiety. “If there was any damage—”

“No, that’s not…” You hear him chuckle as he drove his hand to the door, cornering you like a predator, but you remain still, stopping yourself from looking up or it was going to over. “Do I have to explain?”

“I don’t…”

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

Your eyes rounded in shock, immediately tilting your chin up so you can look at him in the eye this time, suddenly angry at his accusation.

“What made you say that?” You snapped, watching him shake his head in amusement but you weren’t buying it. “Jeno.”

“You’re something else.” He whispered softly, eyes searching something in yours before you feel him inch closer to your ear, his lips brushing across the shell of your ear. “You’re insane. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Jeno, what the fuck?”

You pushed him off you but he could only laugh, head tilting to the side, a smirk now evident on his face.

He was too handsome, it almost drove you nuts if it wasn’t for the way he just insulted you.

“Guess I’d be the first but don’t worry, I’m not that angry, you know?”

You clenched your jaw, watching him advance to you again with an intent to pin you against the door.

“You’re full of shit. I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about when all I’ve done is —”

“We fucked.” He sighed, reeling closer when you clamped your mouth shut, looking away from him. “Why, you thought you were dreaming?”

“You’re joking.”

“See, I’d like to think I was. The whole time I thought the same until I find you in my bed in the morning.”

You faltered, unable to think straight when you feel him trace the outline of your jaw, grabbing you by the chin gently to make you shift your attention back to him.

“Jeno.”

“You said my name too. Just like this.” His darkened gaze pierced yours, pupils blown. “You like me that much?”

“We can’t do this.” You grab his wrist, pushing him away with a huff. “It was a mistake!”

“I’d like to think the same but for some reason…” He took another step, completely caging you in just like you were always meant to be for him. “You’re fucking everything up.”

“How is that my fault —”

“You should’ve pursued me first, that’s all.”

Your eyes widen as he cradled your face, drawing you completely speechless.

Turns out, he was crazier, even more sinister with the way he’s touching you so inappropriately right now you feel like pushing him off and running out to escape but you simply couldn’t. You knew you wanted him too even if you shouldn’t.

Not when the damage has already been done, and you’ve opened a pandora box, unleashing his hidden desires on board with yours, the sinful thoughts you’ve been trying so hard to seal away for no one to figure out.

“You don’t give a fuck about her?” You swallowed a lump in your throat, a pained expression on your face as he kept up with his ministrations, his hand now holding yours. “Why are you touching me…”

“I like you.” He confesses with a shrug like it was something so simple to do, his piercing gaze meeting yours again. “You think I’m into your friend?”

“You’re sick.”

You say through gritted teeth, raw anger still there but the more you allowed him to stare you down like this, the more it dissipated. The desperate hold you had around it vanishing to thin air.

“And you think you’re not?”

There was that same fiery edge to his tone now, his grip around your hand tightening. You try to break free from his grasp until you hear his phone ring. You were just about to use that as way to completely push him away, but he cut you off, demanding you to stay still.

“We’re not done.”

You watch him answer the call, fear on your eyes when you discovered it as your friend asking if he could pass the phone over to you just because you weren’t answering yours.

“Talk to her.” He demanded, his stern tone sending shivers all over your body when you placed his phone near your ear.

“Hey,” You greeted your friend, trying to sound as normal as you could before shying away from the way Jeno’s eyeing you right now. “Was in the shower. What’s up?”

You let your friend take-over, asking if you wanted anything from a specific shop near the nail salon she was in and had been trying so hard to get your mind out of the gutter for the past minute that seemed to flow by in forever. You found yourself stuck in the middle — part of you wanted to tell her about what you did just like that no matter what the consequences were but the other half simply haunted you, did you really want to stop? When the guilt should be burning you alive right now but for some reason, you hardly felt anything and you weren’t sure what to make of that.

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

“The one with stars is cute but you don’t have to— it’s okay,” You shook your head, completely missing the fact that Jeno had gotten even closer. You catch on to him before he lowers his head to the side of your face, about to murmur something.

“Stop.” With the phone away from your lips, you attempt to get away but he only holds you still, hand fixed to the curve of your waist. “Jeno—”

“Just tell me the details later!” Your friend squealed over the phone. “And tell Jeno to read my text!”

The call ended just before you could utter something but the phone from your hand was snatched away in a millisecond, suddenly finding yourself gasping when Jeno placed his knee in between your thighs, feeling you up with his clothed knee, his hand now groping your breast.

“Quit it, won’t you?” You bit your lip, hand fisting his top as he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone. “You want to run away so bad but I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do so don’t lie to yourself.”

“Jeno, stop,” You begged, arousal already pulling in your underwear when he forced you to grind down on his thigh, holding all your weight up alone with just that alone. “Jeno…”

“I’ll let you go f that’s what you want.” He grunted as you began to grind on him, growing more aroused with the way you were whining, struggling on his thigh. He challenged you, even if he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist all of this.

Resist him.

You whimpered as he removed his thigh between your legs, letting you off but you don’t make a move.

“You want to go?” You could only gaze back at him, completely in trance as he grinned down at you, his sardonic expression reeling you in. “Then go.”

It didn’t take long until you finally snapped altogether, crashing yourself to him to latch your lips on his in sheer frustration, an audible groan coming from him as he nibbled your bottom lip, lifting you up, hands all over your body.

Sooner or later, you found yourselves in bed, having to have exhausted each other but there were no words shared after it all.

You weren’t even sure what to do next as you laid there beside him, watching him sleep on his back, head turned away from yours. It was then you felt your heart crumble into pieces, the immense jolt of pain suddenly waking you up from trance.

Do I really want to do this?

You left the next morning just like that, not wanting to pursue this wrong deed at all, and without a word other as you hailed a taxi. You deleted and blocked his phone number and made a plan to somehow try to avoid him and your friend for the next few months, but it wasn’t simple like that, and yet, you tried to stay away.

For the next six months, it was like that — with you and your friend slowly falling apart because you no longer shared classes for second semester and you made no amends to even see or spend time with her, having to have met other friends you shared classes with and then her, with the boys and their girls.

You were also thankful of Jeno not pursuing anything with you too. You barely saw him around due to the fact that he did sign up for more sport-related activities so naturally, he disappeared from your sight. He must have thought that it was clearly a mistake just like you did, and you fought to repent for your sins and you wished he did too.

You didn’t keep track about anything that had to do with them anymore and decided to focus on your studies like you’ve always had from the beginning to prepare yourself for graduation and university requirements. Your great efforts did pay off in the end, having to graduate with almost on top of all your classes and getting into one of your top three universities.

Life seemed great for you — quite elated for the next journey you’re bound to go on for the next two years now that senior year was over and so was the evening dinner you had to attend because it was mandatory despite wanting to opt out of it but you made sure to leave early as you had no plans to sit in the fancy banquet of a five-star hotel and “get entertained” when everyone either sat around to chill or lose themselves in the dimmed down dance floor.

By 11 pm, you bid your goodbyes to a panel of teachers, one of them being your favourite, just in the next room in the hall, then gunned down to the parking lot where you parked your car.

You dug your keys in your purse, humming to yourself when you spot someone’s slick black shoes right next to your car so you stop and blink, shifting your attention the wide plain of his familiar broad back, his white dress shirt being the only article of clothing he has on with some tailored black plants that probably cost five months worth of rent.

“Jeno.”

“Nice ride you got.” He drew the cigarette away from his lips, grey smoke hitting your face as you slowly took a step back, unable to form any coherent sentence upon realizing that he’s standing before you now. “New model too. Gift, maybe?”

You do know you’ve been trying to avoid him.

As much as you tried however, he was there, always in a crowd and you never missed a handsome face like his. He burned in the back of your head so easily, but it was too difficult to get him out no matter how many distractions you could come with, and even if most of it worked in your favour he still lived inside your head like a parasite.

A parasite you may never end up getting rid of.

“I’m going home.” Was all you said, trying to stay stoic and unaffected as he advanced to you, even more irresistable now that he’s worked out more and grew his hair a little longer, a strand from his gelled back fringe curving on his forehead and it did nothing but clench your jaw.

He was just too handsome, you were close to believing no one would be able to resist him at all, not even the new arm candy he brought as a date to dinner since your he has apparently broken up with your friend a month before graduation due to a sudden drastic change in her family’s living situation.

You soon find out she was never coming back, and apparently “long distance relationships” wasn’t Jeno’s thing.

“This early?”

There was a coy smirk on his face, cigarette resting between his lips. You stood there, liking the smell, reminding you of your father back home so naturally, you stayed where you are, feet starting to hurt from the five inch heels you regretfully wore to dinner.

“Yeah, I have work the next morning.”

He’s one step away from you now, his full attention scanning your red dress from head to toe, liking the tight fit around your soft curves. You try to stand your ground anyway, albeit about to burst into shivers from the way he narrowed his eyes to you now, blowing another puff of grey you ended up inhaling into your system as well for how damn close he’s gotten, invading your comfort zone.

“That’s a shame.” He circled around you like some sort of a predator, but without touching you until you feel him stop just inches away, his hard chest brushing against your back. “Well go on, your car is right there.”

Your breath hitched as you began to walk to your car, unlocking the back door to throw your purse into with a slam. You don’t say anything as you placed your hand on the handle, chewing on your lips as he quirked an eyebrow, wanting to know what seemed to make you look a little stressed and all tensed up.

“Your date.” You slowly met his amused gaze. “How long?”

“Didn’t sleep with her if that’s what you were wondering.” You didn’t even want to lie — the wave of relief crashed through you, engulfing you in so you let go of the handle and headed to him, letting your burning desire drag you all the way to his arms as he pulled you into a suffocating embrace. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Jeno flung his cigarette off his lips to kiss you hungrily causing you to moan in his mouth, tasting the peppermint candy he’s had and the slight bitterness from the cigarette but you didn’t care.

You didn’t care until he threw you in your backseat, ripping your underwear off you so easily and gave it to you right there and then, until you were in a verge of tears, unable to think straight as you moaned his name all over again like some sort of a mantra, dragging the both of you into eternal hell.

And to hell with him it is.

[homerforsure]

For the prompt meme: 30 for angst and 36 for fluff? ☺️

Oh. Performing CPR you say? Well, why not?

(For the record I also recently thought of something for the fluffy one too so I’ll get to that soon)

03:17

Long after the ER team vanishes through the doors with Buck, Eddie is still counting. One, two, three, four. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Five, Six, Seven. One hundred beats per minute. Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven. No time for breaths; just keep the heart pumping. Twelve, Thirteen. The count continues in his head without ceasing as though Eddie is still keeping Buck alive, still beating his heart for him, with nothing but his unbroken focus. He wraps an arm around Chimney’s shoulders and the count goes on. Fourteen. Bobby pulls Eddie into his side. Fifteen. Eddie can’t lose the count. He knows, “A ten second break to breathe can halt the momentum and cost you everything so don’t breathe.” Don’t break.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

His own breaths start to match the fevered pace of his count and a grey, creeping fog moves into the emergency room. For half a second, Eddie considers falling into it, letting it swallow him whole so he can dive into that shadow world and drag Buck back out. Then Bobby squeezes him tight and Hen’s breath hitches and Chimney shudders beside him. Eddie snaps back to full, terrible consciousness, but he doesn’t stop counting.

“I got- I gotta call Maddie,” Chimney says. He reaches a trembling hand up to wipe the rain off his face. “I got- fuck.”

“No,” Bobby answers. “We’ll follow protocol.”

Pulling out of Eddie’s grasp, Chimney shakes his head, “No. No way. I’m not letting some stranger-”

“Chim-”

“Show up at my house and tell Maddie that her brother’s-! She needs to hear it from someone she knows.”

Bobby takes a step toward him, releasing Hen and Eddie, who drift toward each other automatically. Holding up his hands and straining to keep his voice level and calm, he says, “Chim, if you call her, she’ll get in the car. You don’t want that.”

“Then, I’ll go get her. Give me the keys.”

Read on AO3

The keys are still in the ignition of the ambulance that is still running and still blocking the emergency entrance. The front doors might still be hanging open for all Eddie remembers of the past few minutes.

“You’re not driving either. None of you are,” Bobby says, glancing briefly at Eddie as if he can sense that he’s about to volunteer. The count in his head has slowed with his breaths, but Eddie needs to do something. There has to be something. Something more. “We’ll find the hospital liaison. They’ll send a notification officer.”

“She doesn’t need a notification officer; she needs me!”

Other visitors and staff look up as Chimney’s voice rises above the noise of the emergency room. Hen closes her eyes and lets quiet tears slide down her cheeks. Bobby looks a hundred years old in the flickering fluorescent light, but he doesn’t flinch. He steps forward and wraps Chimney tight in his arms.

“We’ll send a notification officer,” Eddie hears him say. “They can drive her here. They’ll make sure she’s safe. They’ll make sure your daughter is safe. And you’ll be right here to take care of both of them.”

Slowly Chimney’s arms come around Bobby and cling tight to his coat. The sound of his sob has Eddie looking up to the ceiling, blinking hard and barely holding back his own pitiful lamentation.

“I sent him up the ladder, Cap. I broke his damn ribs.”

“You kept him alive, Chim. You gave him a chance.”

One, Two, Three. The count stutters and starts over, but Eddie catches it again and keeps going. Ignores the way that Bobby doesn’t say “You saved him.” Ignores the way it isn’t true. Not really. Not yet. His fingers–are they shaking?--his fingers are never going to forget Buck’s damp and freezing skin beneath them. That unnatural stillness. The absence of that strong and steady pulse that’s been keeping Eddie on rhythm for years now. Without it he’s stumbling, spiraling, falling out of time. Nine, Ten, Eleven.

“Okay. Let’s call them then,” Chimney says, pushing himself away from Bobby with a stuttering exhale.

He strides off towards the desk and Bobby looks back at Eddie and Hen before he catches up to lead. Eddie almost doesn’t notice the way Bobby’s eyes slide from his face and linger meaningfully on Hen’s until she takes a step toward Eddie and rests her hand on his arm.

“We’ll be here,” she says.

Eddie covers her hand with his and each pat he gives it is another pulse he counts in his head. They lean together, both of them clinging so tightly to the shreds of their own hope that they don’t have any left to offer the other, but scraping together enough strength between the two of them to keep from falling down.

Twenty-eight, Twenty-nine, Thirty. Breathe for two. Breathe. For two.

Breathe for me, Buck, Eddie prays. He skips God and directs his plea to the one person who always answers.

One. Two.

Two nurses in blue scrubs round the corner, pushing a gurney towards them. Eddie moves out of their way before he realizes it’s their gurney and that the nurses are returning it to them. The top sheet is gone and the mattress is soaked from the rain, water still dripping from the rails down to the floor.

“One-eighteen?”

“Yeah,” Hen clears her throat on the word. “That’s us.”

“Here you go.”

They turn as soon as Hen’s hand touches the gurney; their duty fulfilled; the chain of custody reaching its final link.

“Wait,” Eddie says, his voice thick and rough. “Is…”

He swallows, unable to even think his way to the end of the question. The only word on his tongue is Buck. He can’t even figure out how to form another.

Their faces bend in matching expressions of pity and one of them shakes her head as she says, “We don’t know anything. I’m sorry. I’m sure they’ll send someone as soon as they can.”

“Thank you,” Hen says.

Dismissed, they quickly scoot away again before Eddie can gather any more of his wild and overflowing fear into a coherent question. The count starts over and he thinks that he would know- He thinks he’d be able to feel it if- But Eddie doesn’t know how it could possibly feel any more than this. He’s empty. Bereft. His heart is somewhere deep inside this hospital and he can’t be sure that it’s still beating.

Hen touches his arm again and says, “We should get this out of the way. They’ll need us to move the ambulance.”

Right. Because their emergency isn’t the only one happening tonight.

Eddie nods and they walk together, pushing the gurney toward the open back of the ambulance. The driver’s side door is closed, but the passenger side is open and Hen walks over to close it while Eddie lifts the AED off the mattress. It’s easy. Rote. Twelve. Thirteen. The single-use cardiac pads are already gone along with their wiring. He just needs to put the device back in position and make sure the new package of pads is ready for next time.

As he tilts the box, it lights up and a mechanical voice says, “Check electrode pads. Plug in cable.” In their haste to care for Buck no one bothered to turn off the AED.

He’s just about to power it down when the screen changes. A sinus rhythm spikes in sharp green lines and the text below urges, “CHECK RESPONSIVENESS.” Above are numbers in easy to read green:

Shocks: 01 03:17

Three minutes and seventeen seconds. The timer must have stopped after the shock, the medical team pulling the history from the device as they rushed Buck down the hall. Three minutes and seventeen seconds from Buck landing on the gurney and Eddie feeling the flutter of his pulse under his hands. He doesn’t know how much time passed before that. How much the wind and the rain and thirty pounds of gear slowed him down on his frantic climb. He’ll probably never know.

He’s still staring at that jagged green line that’s barely life when Hen comes back around the truck and he can’t bring himself to stop once she joins him.

“What’s wrong with it?” she asks and Eddie barks out a laugh.

What’s wrong with it is that it was just attached to Buck. That it’s showing, now, exactly how close he came. How close he is to-

Tilting it toward her he says, “Three minutes, seventeen seconds.”

A long breath leaves Hen’s lungs, leaving her deflated. “Oh,” she says.

“Three minutes. Seventeen seconds. He was-”

“I know.”

“Three minutes.”

Gently, Hen takes the AED from Eddie’s hand and sets it back down on the gurney. Then she wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight. “I know,” she says. “I know.”

The rock there at the edge of the glass doors, while rain continues to fall beyond them and thunder rumbles in the distance. Eddie’s pulse pounds in his ears. And he keeps count.

[queenvidal]

The Missing Piece

Chapter 1: Just A Tingle

Chapter Summary: It's been a long time since Hancock wasted his time thinking about soulmates. Until the night Nick brings a woman from a vault into his town.

Wordcount: 2481

Chapter Index:

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9

Masterlist

The night air is cool against Hancock’s overheated skin. The sweet taste of mentats dances all over his rough tongue while he's leaning on the balustrade of his balcony. The streets below him are mostly empty except for only a few loner souls wandering around.

Behind him, he can hear his office door getting closed silently, careful not to attract attention. John has a smile on the remains of his lips as he lights up the cigarette. It's not like everyone in the Old State House heard him doing that gal just a few minutes ago.

There was no need to go outside for a smoke, but John wanted to give that woman some privacy to get dressed again and the said toy’s just left. Lover would be a too hard word for that lass, what was her name again? Never mind, toy is as a fitting name as any other and John doesn't intend to learn her actual name anyway. It was just a one night stand, like always. No strings, just hurried sex for the sake of the release.

The ghouls smile slowly fades and he takes a long drag, the gleam of the cigarette the only light source up there. The smoke fills his lungs and is kept in there for a long moment, before getting exhaled through John's broken and scarred nostrils.

On the street below, he can see the gal from before hurrying to the hotel. Poor thing probably doesn't want to be seen escaping the Old State House this late in the night. John's eyes linger on her as she makes her way. Red ginger hair, freckles on her nose, cute but other than that? Meh. Nothing that would keep his interest for long. And obviously she doesn't want a second run herself, if her lowered gaze and fast steps are any indicator.

In times past this would have hurt him, no one wants to be known as a ghoul fucker, even if the ghoul was the damned mayor of the damned city they were living in. But John doesn’t really complain in his position. After all, quite a lot of folks found their way into his bed regardless.

Sure, all of them were seeking something - power, caps, chems, you name it. But John’s not naive, he knows they are always trying to gain something from him with sex. And that’s something he can use for his own advantage. He'd sleep with them and wave them out, simple as that. With no shame or regret really. Most of the time he doesn't even bother to get undressed, removed sash and open pants are enough to get the job done.

After another long drag, John tries to think of something else, there is no point in indulging in reminiscences of past releases. Almost automatically his eyes wander down to his left underarm. His scarred skin, all grooves and ridges ruined the name that used to be there long ago.

For whatever reason the very spot of what used to be pitch black letters doesn't stop tingling. He first noticed it when things got heated between him and the little toy a while ago. His eyes instantly went to her arm. Veronica. John didn't know if should laugh or feel pity for her.

After all this years he didn't give one single fuck about soulmates. Why should he? Even if there was someone with his name on their arm, he'd scare them right away, no doubt. He knows what he looks like and if he is honest with himself, that's the main reason for staying dressed when fucking gals he most likely won't remember the next morning.

Damn, he should have taken jet instead of mentats, he is not in the mood of overthinking this bullshit, for stupid emotions. And he doesn't believe in finding his mate anyway. For a soulmate you actually have to harbor a soul and John is more than certain he's lost his in Diamond City. Well, if you are believing in the spiritual part of that, which he doesn’t also. The tingling is most likely just a symptom of his drug abuse, it has to be.

With the burning smoke captured between his lips, he traces the line of where the name used to be with his free hand. Sotiria. What a fucking odd name. Never, not once has he ever met someone with that name. Sure, better a rare one than those everyone seems to call their kids nowadays, like Lisa, Mike - or John. Fuck, how many gals and guys has he seen with his name on their arm? And fucking allways he felt hope inside him rising. Pathetic.

But there was never a connection, not the weird feelings people used to describe once they found their missing piece. A pleasant prickle of the name on each other's arm. The attraction, the unsatisfiable need to be close to the person - like an addiction.

Maybe it's just an itch. Yeah, that sounds plausible.

Suddenly there is yelling at the gate of his town, catching Hancock's attention. Was that Nick Valentine’s voice? What the hell is he doing in Goodneighbor this late in the night? John flicks the butt of his cigarette away and goes back inside. He grabs a new pack of smokes on his way to the stairs. He'd prefer alcohol right now but one of his supply lines got cut by raiders, a problem he has to deal with tomorrow. Hm, maybe buffout? That's a topic for later, first of all he has to know what is going on at the gate.

The tingling on his arm seems to increase as he takes the steps down to the exit of the State House. When he opens the door, the guy Finn can be heard talking. Hancock rolls his eyes, Finn is doing his old insurance scam again. Damn this idiot, does he really dare to threaten his visitors again? Finn already got a warning and is really testing Hancock's patience. Looks like John will have to send a few guards to visit him later. A quick reminder to behave inside the town's walls.

Once stepping outside, John’s eyes land on the new visitors. It sure was Nick Valentine’s voice he’s heard but the old synth is not alone. A woman is with him, one arm around Nick’s shoulders for balance and her other pressed on her abdomen. Blood is leaking out of what seems to be a nasty wound, turning her blue suit crimson red. She looks up from her wound towards Finn.

Damn, she's a sight! She looks like she’s stepped out of one of the pinup posters. Blonde, shiny hair, pinned up in various rolls, a light blue bandana wrapped around as decoration, sharp eyeliner, purple lipstick, curves to die for. Damnit, if she wouldn't look so disheveled and injured - injured?

"Fuck your insurance! Move, rassgat or you’ll gonna need one!”

John is blown away. He’s forgetting how to breathe, his lungs are burning from the lack of oxygen.

John immediately snapps out of his trance. Shit, that woman needs a doctor at once!

"Nice try, doll." Finn sneers at her. "You'll pass out before you could raise your little pistol. Caps or bleeding to death, your call, sugar."

That's enough! Line crossed, brother. John is more than fed up, ready to beat Finn out of the misery he calls life. "Move your worthless ass out of the way, Finn." John starts, walking up to the other man. "You lay off that extortion crap right now. Obviously she needs help and we ain't turning people in need away, nor do we threaten 'em."

Not impressed in the slightest, Finn turns to face the ghoul. "The fuck do you care, Hancock? You don't know her, she ain't one of us, would be a waste of stimpacks!"

Slowly and a bit over dramatically Hancock moves further towards the stupid bastard. "Better keep your tongue in your mouth! I said she can pass."

Finn crosses his arms over his chest, not stepping to the side like he was told to. He even straightens up, trying to look intimidating. "Soft, Hancock. Way too soft. Keep letting scum enter our city, let them benefit from our supplies. But one day there will be a new mayor."

John just huffs a laugh. That daring asshole. "Heh, lemme tell you something, brother." With the flash of a smile the ghoul comes closer and when he is close enough to smell the jet in Finn’s breath, he rams a knife into his chest. Twice, no better make it thrice, for good measure. Finn is dead before he hits the ground, blood slowly pooling around him.

"Quick." John stresses. "Bring her to Amari in the Memory Den."

Nick nods and tries to help the woman walk through the street. John takes the lead, while cleaning his knife off of Finn. "Sorry for the harsh welcome, this probably wasn't the best first impression but the rest of us are civilized - usually."

John can hear Nick snicker behind him. "Uh-huh, always making a show, huh, Hancock?"

"You know me, Nicky. Ain't gone miss a chance to show off." Although Hancock is playing cool and collected, he is everything but at the moment. His arm is killing him. The tingle got really bad, now it feels like tiny electric shocks are running through his skin and flesh. That's not tingling anymore and it's starting to get fucking annoying. He'll have to talk to the Doc himself later, maybe his last batch of psycho was bad. But didn't he use his right arm? Hm, maybe -

"Damnit, Blue! Stay awake!"

Nick's sudden panicked voice brings Hancock’s mind back to the street. He turns around to find the Synth trying to stabilize the woman. "Shit, we better fuckin' hurry!" Hancock says, when Nick quickly picks her up, carrying her.

Both men start to run towards the Memory Den. John slams through the door, holding it open for Nick and Blue to enter. Was that her Name?

"There!" John points at Irmas chair in the middle of the room. "Lay her down there. Doc! Quick, got an emergency in here."

Nick carefully puts Blue down onto the lounger. His clothes are blood soaked as well. Hell, she lost a lot of it.

"My lounger!" Irma yells in anger when she enters the room as well, woken up by all the noise.

Doctor Amari storms into the room with a bed head and in her pajamas. "What's going on, what happened?" She asks. Hancock just nods at the lounger and the doctor quickly moves over to Blue.

“A gunshot wound.” Valentine answers. “Got ambushed by Supermutants. We had the upper hand until they sent a suicider. We had to retreat but she got hit before we found cover."

John rolls his coal eyes. "I'll buy you a new one." Damn, she's really worried about that stupid piece of furniture, while the girl is bleeding to death?

“Looks like the bullet got caught in her rip.” Amari tells them. She takes a pair of thin tongs out of her bag and buries them into Blue’s flesh.

Irma is about to argue about that, when Amari orders her to shut up and get her medi-bag. While still mumbling to herself, Irma is doing what she’s been told and hands her friend the bag.

The doctor skips on the gloves and gets straight to work. Everyone watches Armari unzipping the woman's suit in order to get better access to the wound. Hancock recognizes the suit, she's a vault dweller? Vaulties usually never leave 81, what the hell was she doing out here and in company of a synth?

Irma gags before she quickly turns around, covering her mouth. "I want a giant couch after this!" She glares at Hancock before heading for her bedroom again.

"There you are." The doctor smiles slightly when she removes the tongs with the bullet inbetween it. She drops her equipment on the ground and continues. After a quick inspection of the wound, she gets two stimpacks out of her bag and injects them on each side of the lesion. The tissue starts growing back together but only very slowly. Amari frowns at that, this doesn’t look too good. With quick hands she wraps a bandage around Blues middle. “Alright, all done.”

"Will she make it?" Both Nick and John ask in unison.

The doctor nods in confirmation. "Yes, but she'll need rest, a lot of it. It was a very close call, she’s lost a big amount of blood. Two weeks of strict bed rest would be the best for now."

“No problem, Nick.” Amari smiles at him for a moment, before continuing to search her bag. She returns back to Blue, after she found what she’s been looking for. She rolls up Blues sleeve on her right arm and injects a dose of sedatives. This way the vault dweller should sleep through the majority of the pain. Amari zips the suit back up and covers the sleeping woman with a blanket.

Nick lets out an artificial breath in relief. John can't recall having seen the synth that distressed ever before. Must have been a hell of a fight. "Hey, Nicky, go and get a room in the Rexford. At my expense." John knows synths don’t sleep, but Nick seem to be in need for some space to cool down.

“Thanks, John.” Nick gladly takes the offer. “And thank you as well, doctor.”

“Nicky, don’t worry,” John grabs Nick’s shoulder, trying to sooth him. “We're gonna take care of her.”

Nick only nods a few times before patting John’s shoulder in return, his silent thanks. After one last glance at the sleeping blonde, Nick eventually takes his leave, disappearing through the door.

“Your arm.” She turns around to face him. “You kept rubbing it the whole time. Bad batch?”

“Alright, Mayor. What was it this time?” Amari asks while gathering her equipment.

John raises a nonexistent eyebrow in question. “What was what?”

Only now does Hancock realize he’s holding his left arm. “Heh. Can’t do shit unnoticed by you, huh?”

He tries to play it off, but Amari won't let go. “Come one, let me check you.” Amari stands up and moves to her office. “Bare your arm, Hancock. You probably missed the vein again.”

Hancock follows Amari into her office. On his way he decides that he doesn't care about the name.

Hm, yeah. Maybe he missed it.

John takes one final look at the vaultie. For a moment he considers to roll up her other sleeve and have a look on the letters of her arm. But something's holding him back. Maybe his deeply flawed conscience. Afterall he can’t just put his hands on a blacked out woman, also the name of someone's piece is a very intimate matter. He has no right to know.

Soulmates are bullshit.

Masterlist

Chapter Index:

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9

[knightoflodis]

Oh. Anon. First. You know nothing about me. Second. I have wanted sex before. Sometimes I do actually want it with another human being. But guess what. Wanting sex doesn’t automatically make me feel attraction. Also. You have no idea what I have felt throughout my life. What the fuck do you know about me and my experiences and how I feel things that gives you the right to tell me how I am supposed to feel and how I am supposed to identify? I am taking a screen cap to block you btw. I am glad you sent another ask so I could do that. I don’t want you nor your toxicity near me. You are a sad human being. Go away.

[scuffle-with-spirals]

I remember when I borrowed Battle Royale from the library. It was one of the original translations I believe (with Shuya and Noriko on the front) and like, amidst all the absolute tomfuckery happening all around in that book, one thing young me found unironically funny was just. The way the book would bring Kazuo into a scene.

Spoilers for Battle Royale aiosdfmmiodfmiosdfmiosdfio

Big infodump under cut!!

OKAY SO

Sparing most of the details about the Program and all that, each of the 42 students who get released onto the abandoned island to fight to the death are each assigned a random weapon in their backpack, alongside some other necessities. It’s an insane coin toss on what you get here. You could get a little lucky and get something long-ranged — a gun, an automatic crossbow, etc... Maybe something on the blunter side like a bat or hammer. Or, you could be unlucky like one of the boys did and get something like a fork. It’s incredibly hit or miss.

So, for those not playing “the game” and have a good weapon, they’re at least somewhat reassured that if push comes to shove, as much as some really don’t want to, they’ll have something to defend themselves with.

But the thing is: for those who are playing, who are “with the Program”, so to speak, if the odds are in their favor, the others are uh. Kinda FUCKED

SO.

There are many, many aggressors in the novel who want to play the game. There are two big, famous ones as well, that many people who‘ve either read the book or watched the movie know: Mitsuko Souma, and Kazuo Kiriyama.

So my memory is fuzzy on the events of the book. I’m trying to finally give it a second read with the Remastered version; it’s been a few years and I’m still on it LMAO, and I’m sorry to say I’ve unfortunately not watched the movie yet. Currently, I’m only now finally finishing the manga, so it seems that, based on my fresh knowledge from that specific adaptation (which changes some things from the original novel), Mitsuko, while her assigned weapon is a sickle, does change her formula by snatching others weapons. There are many panels of her capping someone’s skull in and it’s infuriating to read for like, all of it, lmao.

But Kazuo? Nonono. No. He doesn’t get any farming tools as his weapon. Y’all, this dude is playing. And he was assigned a FUCKING MACHINE GUN

AND LISTEN

KAZUO DOESN’T FUCKING WAIT. IT IS ON SIGHT WITH HIM

sOooOoOo many characters die because Kazuo just happens to walk in through stage left and start blastin’. He’s a fascinating character to me because, while you have some people trying to convince others they’re not playing or to put their weapons down, while others go “ayo that’s stupid as shit kill or be killed dumb dumb” or Mitsuko pulling her expert gaslight gatekeep girlboss tricks, Kazuo’s just silent, blunt, and lethal. And once anyone who doesn’t get their ass obliterated before they can notice realizes this, they’re visibly terrified whenever he shows up again, letting anyone else nearby know that this dude’s out for blood even if that other person was also playing the game themselves.

So uh! About the novel!

In some, but not all cases probably, for some reason, the translator decides to announce Kazuo’s sudden entrance into a confrontation with the phrase:

“It was Kazuo Kiriyama.”

And like, at first, this made my heart stop. Especially when a character I liked was in the scene, I was like, “Ah shit, here we go, oh fuck.”

But then it just kept happening

This is literally just an example and probably matches nothing of what happens in any adaptation but just to show you how it looked, here’s a mockup of how this shit would play out:

Hiroki’s eyes darted to the nearby treetops, tensed by the rustling trees. In the glint of the moon, he assumed the worst, and tried to pinpoint any figures stationed in the branches. His eyes squinted. Please, let it be anything else. The wind, or perhaps fleeting birds, unfamiliar with the cruelty of bloodshed.

But it was Kazuo Kiriyama, and with a fucking ka-klinK he made sure his airpods were blastin that doom music as he ratatatatatata-

THIS SAME EXACT WORDING GOT USED SO MANY TIMES TO THE POINT WHERE I JUST GAVE A SLIGHT CHUCKLE WHEN I SAW IT LIKE

MAYBE IT’S JUST MY HUMOR

MAYBE I’M REMEMBERING IT WRONG?!?!?? HLEL

In the remastered versions there’s NOT ANY “it was kazuo kiriyama” moments yet, which on one end, is kinda upsetting because this is probably the easiest way to access the novel and I just want to know this wasn’t another terrible case of my memory so I can show it to people and laugh or something, but also, I mean, I get why they chose to change it up lmao. It’s. yeah.

I tried to make this an inside joke with some friends a few years ago but nobody else had read Battle Royale so i kinda gave up instantly lmao. But one friend DID suddenly hit me with a fast one referencing it one time and I just immediately lost it on SPOT she was so cool for that lmsfiofmsdfiomiosdffmiod you know who you are

PLEASE if anyone also remembers or even possibly owns the version of the novel I’m referring to, can you please let me know if this was actually a thing that happened? Like, a lot, or even at all? :0c I’m really curious, ;v;

Thank you so so much for reading this long ass post SDFIOMFSDFMIO!! And if anyone else wants me to talk about BR for any reason — whether it be because they just want to here my thoughts on things, on certain adaptations, or would just want to hear my retelling of events without actually reading the source material (SO VALID), PLEASEE LET me know. I’ll probably do this anyway but I mean!! Finding like-minded people who’re interested in anything is neat!!

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Trust:Benny x werewolf!female!reader x Frankie

A/n:Literally didn’t intend for this to ge that long but here we are.

Part 1/2 of Trust and Love. Part 2 will be the romance and smut part but this series is 18+ regardless

Masterlist

Warnings:Abuse, food, animal dying, animal blood, screaming, transformation pain.

“Benny, I really don’t think we should be in here. If anyone finds out we’ll get our asses handed to us.”

“It’s fine Frankie. Turned all of the cameras off before I went to get you. Top secret shit, not top enough to not put cameras in here, or right outside the hallway… been wanting to see her in person, obviously they weren’t going to just let me in.”

Benny puts the key code he memorized from the cctv footage in the small blue illuminating pad. It flashes green and the door clicks unlocked. He slowly opens the door, just in case someone was working overtime, Frankie standing over top of him. They make their way in fully, the door shutting loudly behind them, making both of them jump.

There’s a soft glow coming from a platform, they walk closer. A body is laying there, softly breathing. They only wore a short, black, bodysuit. She stirs in her sleep before slowly waking up. Benny squats down, Frankie behind him with his arms crossed. The woman rubs her eyes and looks around, squinting before meeting Benny’s eyes.

-

You crawl over slowly, keeping eye contact with the strange man’s beautiful blue eyes. His eyebrows knit together. You sit crisscross applesauce and wave wearily, not understanding his or his partner’s intentions.

“Hey, we’re gonna get you outta here.”

“WHAT?!” The standing man yells at him, causing both of you to jump.

He continues yelling, but more like whisper yelling at the blue eyed man while you’re stuck in your thoughts.

Get you out? Where were you gonna go? Were you escaping? The people white white coats told you escaping was bad. The people with white coats also caused pain. But they fed you and sometimes hugged you. They also yelled at you if you did something wrong. Was there a guarantee these men would feed you? Treat you well? Even though you were asleep, you felt their kind but hard energy as soon as they were outside of the door.

“Food?” You sign, they’re not looking, so you keep repeating it, until the man wearing a baseball cap stares at you, then the blue eyed man turns too.

“Yes! We can get you food. You’ll have a bed too! Come on Frankie, I told you how they were treating her and it made me sick, what if something bad happens to her. Then it’s on both of us for not setting her free.”

He keeps trying to reason, the other one, Frankie, takes off his cap and rubs his face before sighing, giving in.

“Fine.”

“Fuck yes!”

-

They spent what felt like 3 hours (it was only 45 minutes) trying to figure out the code to your cage. You never had paid attention to the scientists putting it in, it would never be a thought for you to escape, at least until now.

The door dings and automatically opens, what it always does right before tests are done on you. You flinch slightly and carefully step out. You look between the two men and smile. “Thank you.” You sign.

“Of course, let’s get you to our house now.”

-

Frankie stares at you from the kitchen and sighs, chopping up vegetables to throw into a pan. The smell of seasoned chicken wafts through the house. He throws the vegetables into the pan and moves it around with the spatula.

He should’ve said no. He should’ve just dragged Benny out of there. They basically kidnapped a woman. They’re now in deeper white than when the two of them just snuck in there to look at her. She doesn’t talk, she doesn’t understand anything, how is she gonna function outside of this house?

“GODDAMNIT!” Frankie’s hand accidentally touches the edge of the pan. Benny comes running in.

“You okay?”

“M’fine.” He huffs and slams the spatula on the stove. “Finish dinner, I need a minute.” Frankie storms into the living room and out the front door.

Your whole body flinches. You stare at Benny, then at the door Frankie left from. Benny is now cooking dinner and you sit in the living room flipping through channels, not understanding fully when to stop, or when something is interesting.

There’s a grayish smoke coming from the window, you look out it. Frankie is out there, a stick in his mouth, smoke coming out of it. You tilt your head, he sits on the stairs of the deck, it’s dark, only the light on the porch illuminates him. You look at Benny still cooking then back out the window and decide to follow Frankie out.

It’s cold, you’re still only in your jumpsuit so you bring your arms around your body to conserve warmth. You sit next to him, he’s warm himself, wearing a flannel and all. You heard flannels were really warm from one of the lab workers talking about presents for a family member.

“What are you doing out here?” Frankie asks.

“You mad?” You sign, Frankie laughs a little.

“No, I’m just… anxious. You’re important to those scientists. They find out you’re here, Benny and I are probably going to get in trouble.”

You nod in understanding. You move your hands to keep you warm. Frankie stubs out the stick and stands up. “You don’t need to be outside, it’s too cold. Come on.” He holds out his hand, you gently take it and he leads you inside.

-

Your mouth drools at the chicken and mixed veggies in front of you. You sign a ‘Thank you’ and begin eating. You only ever had freeze dried foods, never something fresh, this was a luxury and it made your stomach feel happy. You wiggle a little and sigh content with your life. Benny watches you stuff the food into your mouth.

“Hey slow down a little. We don’t need you choking.”

You notice the large chicken piece going into your mouth and nod. Frankie chuckles softly at you, you bite off a smaller piece. You can’t get enough of it. You finish off your plate and Frankie takes it from you, along with his and Benny’s plate and goes to wash the dishes.

“It’s late, we should get you to bed. I’ll show you your room.”

You follow Benny down the hall, passing the bathroom, their room, on the left and on the right a computer room, then your bedroom. Originally the guest bedroom. There was a queen bed, small dresser, a mirror that stood on its own, and a bedside table with a clock and a light.

“Frankie and I are gonna get you some clothes tomorrow after we work. We’ll be up early and back around 3. Frankie’s gonna make breakfast and lunch for you, okay?”

You nod your head and walk across the wooden floorboards, they’re cool against your feet. You touch the soft bed before sitting on it and bouncing up and down a little. It felt a little uncomfortable, you’d adjust though, better than sleeping on the floor.

“Goodnight. If you need anything our room is down the hall.”

Benny shuts the door quietly behind him, you stare at the bed. You start yanking off the sheets and blankets, the pillows too. You start wrapping them in a nest like way and put the pillows in one spot. You go and try and turn off the light but it only dims, you try again, it dims even more, you tap it one more time and the light turns off all the way. You adjust yourself in your nest and cover yourself in one more blanket before curling up and falling asleep.

-

The next day you woke up around 8, this was when the lab assistants would start coming in. They’d automatically wake you up, they never cared how loud they were. You wonder how they’re doing. Probably in complete panic over you.

You shrug it off and slowly get out of bed, rubbing your eyes and heading to the bathroom. Then you’d see what Frankie made you for breakfast. Eggs, bacon and rice. You could get used to Frankie’s cooking. Who knew something so simple could be so amazing. You get up from you spot and walk over to the sink setting the empty plate and fork in it.

Now you didn’t know how to wash the dishes, but it couldn’t be hard. You weren’t a fast learner but Frankie and Benny certainly wouldn’t punish you for not cleaning it to the best of your ability.

You decide to just go for it, turning the water hot, almost too hot, you’ve unfortunately felt worse though. You grab the sponge and put a blue dish soap on it then scrub the plate, the the fork, then set them both on the dish rack, which already had other forks and plates drying.

You inhale deeply then let out a huge sigh and frown. You wish the scientists at least taught you life skills while they experimented and ran tests on you. It really does indicate they were never gonna let you be free, or if they did they didn’t care enough and were probably willing to leave you stranded and alone to die.

Your body forces you into the living room, doing the only thing so far you knew you were a professional at, TV flipping. You sit on the plush cream couch and grab the remote from the coffee table, turning on the tv you start flipping.

Nothing was peaking your interest. What did it even mean for something to peak your interest? I mean you are curious but everything felt, dull and boring on the tv. Then, you see a flash of two people, they’re lips locked on one another. A kiss. You stop on the channel, a woman and a man, it was a quick kiss. They’re now talking, smiling at each other, the man has his arm around the woman, she leans her head on his shoulder, the screen backs up from them and the scene fades to black.

You’re now intrigued, you want more. You see a flash of an “Up next” on screen, with a list of titles. You hope they show more. You grab a pillow, putting it between your cross crossed legs and a hug like position and plinth your mouth in the pillow. Another movie starts.

-

“We’re home!”

Your whole body jumps, you look away from the tv screen, the credits rolling on the 3rd movie you’ve been watching, you learn they’re rom-com’s from the almost endless commercials that play, they’re all on the “Hallmark” channel. Each one of them having a similar plot so far, each one of them intriguing you more. All of the questions were in your head, you’d just have to write them out for Benny or Frankie to answer.

“What are you watching?” Benny puts his hands on his hips and looks up at the tv. “Ah, Frankie likes to act like he doesn’t like these. They’re cheesy but we watch them usually a week before Christmas. Nice to know the tradition is starting earlier.” Benny laughs and turns to you. “You just been doing this all day?”

You nod.

“We got you some clothes to try on, so we can continue your binge watching after.” Benny gestures you to follow him, you reluctantly get up, a small huff coming from you. You follow him into his and Frankie’s bedroom. You start to wonder if they kiss and cuddle like they do on the tv. From what you’ve seen so far they don’t act like the couples on tv.

The thought quickly goes though as Benny pulls out jeans, pajama pants, two skirts, a dress, flannels, some tank tops, a t-shirt, long sleeve shirts, and some coats.

“They’re all around the same size. We’ll get you more clothes as the seasons change.” Benny smiles and starts to leave the room, the door softly shutting behind you, just like he did the night before. You grab one of each and begin undressing, then redressing. everything, felt.. fine? Was that what they wanted? You shrug and leave on the t-shirt, coat, and jeans and walk out with the rest of the clothes.

They’re in the kitchen, Frankie with his palms on the counter, leaning his back on it, and Benny with his arms crossed, leaning on the oven. You stop in the doorway and hold out your clothes.

“Oh, no those are for you to wear all the time. Then we wash the ones already worn and you wear them again.” Benny explains, you look down, and move your arms so your clothes are back towards you. “I’ll help you out them away come on.”

He teaches you how to fold, you enjoy how calming it is. You fold your jeans and skirts, he folds up everything else, talking to you about what has happened since they left with you last night.

It wasn’t much, other than the scientists being pissed because they had gotten far with you and a four hour search before giving up and picking a newer test subject.

“We also got you some shoes to try on. They’re just hiking boots. Obviously we’ll get you more shoes later. Stuff to match your dress and stuff.” Benny smiles, you sign a ‘thank you.’ And realize this might just be your sign for them.

-

“You ready?” Benny asks, you look at him and nod.

Your first time stepping outside, well other than a few weeks ago when Frankie and Benny brought you home.

The snow began to fall early December and you had started to get antsy, staying inside all of the time. You’d beg them to let you out. They’d talk about how they weren’t sure yet, they didn’t know if anyone would recognize you. But after awhile Benny and Frankie eventually gave in to your constant begging and knew at some point you’d have to go outside, it wasn’t healthy for you to be inside all the time.

You run outside, the snow crunching against your boots, something about it feels amazing. You squeal with excitement. All three of you noticed you started to do that when you were excited or smiling for so long. You run down the sidewalk and back, only slipping a little bit, Frankie freaking out not wanting to deal with an ER visit before the camping trip you guys were about to take.

You run up to them and hold out your arms, hugging them tightly. You learned this from both of them and even searching up any hugging questions on Benny’s laptop. Hugging can supposedly relax people and it creates a stronger bond, you love bonding with them, you were attached to Frankie and Benny. You’d never admit it to either of them though.

“Come on sparky. We have to find a good camping spot before it gets dark.” Benny chuckles, he guides you into the truck and they both hop in. You haven’t been in this truck since they first took you home, still felt the same, but also so different.

-

Snow crunches below your feet as you, Benny, and Frankie walk up the slow incline of a hill. Trees surround you from everywhere but it’s not impossible to make your way out of the forest, you were sure of it. Frankie has told you multiple times about his and Benny’s camping trips.

You run into Frankie’s backpack. Your breath hitches.

“It’s okay, we’re here now.” Frankie smiles and begins swiping snow away with his boot, he sets his bag on the dirt and you mimic his action. They’ve both learned your body signals and what they mean without you having to speak or sign to them. It makes communication much easier. Birds softly sing around your area. You can hear animals moving about from yards away.

“Can I go look around?” You sign, Benny and Frankie look at each other and shrug.

“Yeah, don’t go too far. You have your gps on you?” Frankie asks, you nod. “Okay we’ll see you in a bit, Benny and I will set up camp and gather fire wood Sparky.”

You wave to them and start wandering off, the area they decided to stay in behind to slope down leading to a nearby creek, even though it was cold you couldn’t hear the water running off the rocks and down towards an unknown destination. The water was calming, you walk slowly down to it and crouch down. There’s few fish in the freezing water, but still enough for you to watch, so that’s what you do.

You hear shuffling and soft crunching behind you, your head swivels around.

A bunny. Your head tilts. It’s little nose wiggles as it smells for something. Soft white ears wiggle too, it clearly sees you. You move slowly towards it. The fur matches perfectly to the snow, they’re supposed to hide from prey, yet here it was, out in the open. Your fingers twitch, you mumble and feel water pooling at your lips. You lick your teeth.

-

A scream is heard in the distance. It’s ugly, blood curdling, an ugh sob follows after.

Frankie and Benny immediately look up.

“You stay here in case she comes back. I’ll follow where she went.” Benny says, already springing into action. Frankie nods, he sits on a log nervously. Benny runs off, following your footprints in the snow.

“Sparky?! SPARKY??“ Benny yells, he hears your whimpers, they aren’t far from him. He continues on.

A figure is crouched down, it’s you. Benny holds a hands out and softly walks over. “Sparky?” Benny practically whispers, you turn. All he sees is a mouth full of blood. “What the fuck happened?”

He’s disgusted, he tries not to be but he is. You can feel it and he knows it himself.

“Food.” You both sign and whisper softly.

It’s your first word since you came home with them. Benny didn’t want it this way, but there’s no turning back, that’s not what this about right now anyways.

You whimper. Benny places a hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t understand what happened, but that doesn’t matter right now. Right now your scared and you need to be cleaned up. He attempts to grab your forearm, you flinch and cower. Your arms making an “x” over your head. “Hey, hey it’s okay Sparky. We’re gonna get you cleaned up.”

“I don’t want Frankie to see.” You rasp. Benny’s mouth is slack and he nods understandingly. He walks you gently over to the creek, the water is freezing but he’ll warm up your hands with a fire. You spit and rinse, blood washing away with a mix of water. You mumble incoherently and Benny attempts to comfort you. “I’m a werewolf.” Your voice shakes out.

Benny looks at you and smiles gently. He then smiled teasingly and laughs a little. “Makes sense.”

-

There is a deal between you and Benny as you made your way back to the camp. He couldn’t tell Frankie anything. He swore up and down he wouldn’t. You decided you’d have to answer some questions he had whenever you two could get alone time. His curiosity often got the better of him so he couldn’t not ask.

Frankie sees you two walk up and runs over. “Are you okay? What happened?” Frankie looks between you and Benny, mostly looking for an answer from Benny.

“A wolf got a bunny The blood scared Sparky.” Benny lies, Frankie believes it.

“Oh.. are you okay now? Do you need something to drink? Next time we won’t take you this far up we can just go to the camp grounds instead.” Frankie rambles, he puts an arm gently around your shoulder and you smile up at him. You sit on a log and Benny goes into the tent while Frankie starts on hot cocoa for you. A blanket is gently wrapped around you and you feel a calloused hand ruffle your hair.

Benny sits next to you, his backpack in hand, he pulls out some late lunch food and begins prepping. It’s small Turkey sandwiches with lettuce, mayo, and cheese. By the time he’s done you’ve already gotten your cocoa handed to you.

You sip on it and munch down two sandwiches and a small bag of chips while Frankie and Benny talk about work.

“We could always try the Condos a few miles down the road or ask a construction company.” Benny shrugs and takes a huge bite of his sandwich.

Your ears lightly twitch. You look in between the men.

“I think the apartments just past the condos are hiring too.”

“Hiring for what?” You sign. Benny catches what you sign and answers.

“Security, we uh, we’re going to tell you more about this but we got laid off. The building where we found you got shut down for being unethical… which like no shit that’s why you’re with us.” Benny scoffs, you frown and tilt your head.

“Are we gonna be homeless?”

Frankie’s eyes go wide. “No, no! Perrito we’re going to be fine. We have money saved up and Benny and I are already looking for jobs.”

Your tone changes immediately and you nod and smile. “Okay!”

-

You stare into the fabric ceiling above you and sigh lightly. Your instincts were coming back and you didn’t think it’d be so soon… or even at all.

At some point the scientists working on you didn’t like your frequent turning into a werewolf whether you did it as a defense or it was your monthly heat, so they took it upon themselves to make a birth control. They told you humans used a different kind so you should be able to use the one they made. It was an injection taken yearly. You didn’t realize coming up would be three years since taking it and now that the lab was gone you didn’t know what you’d do. Maybe Benny could help, he didn’t understand everything about you but if you could just explain then he’d be okay. Frankie on the other hand… you’d have to play keep away. Ever since you’d met him he’s been one to try and hide his emotions, yet you could tell when he was stressed or angry. If he saw you he’s be both, he’d probably hate you.

You look to one side, then the other. Frankie and Benny soundly asleep. Soft snoring coming from both of them. You shift to your stomach and try to dose off into the night.

-

“So, what exactly do you need me to do?”

“Just… make sure my door is locked. Women have this thing called a period. It’s the same as my heat. So if I start screaming and Frankie gets concerned just say I’m on that. If he insists just say I’m absolutely fine. I’ll have to be in there for a few days until my heat is over.” You explain. You had begun to talk little by little since the camping trip, it became easier because of their patience and persistence with you.

Benny nods his head. “And you’re sure it’s in a few days?”

“Yes… I know it is. Please no matter what just do what I say. I don’t want to hurt you or Frankie. I’m not sure I can control myself I haven’t had a heat in years.” You touch his knee gently and look him in the eyes.

“I promise I’ll do what you say Sparky.”

-

Groaning, moaning, grunts of pain are heard from your room. Benny paces around the living room. Frankie would be home any second. Your cries and whines fill the home with agony.

The front door clicks. Frankie enters quickly. His brows are furrowed and he tries to make his was past Benny, but Benny grabs his arm. “She doesn’t want anyone bothering her. She’s on her period.” Benny insists.

“Las tonterías!” Frankie growls, Benny stares at him, jaw clenched. (Bullshit)

“It’s not you need to leave her alone!”

“Algo pasa, ustedes dos escondiendo algo de mí!” (Something’s up, you two are hiding something from me!)

Benny’s stomach clenches. Frankie pulls his shoulder away from Benny and storms towards your room. Benny quickly follows. The knob jiggles roughly and Benny attempts to grab Frankie away. Frankie doesn’t budge and Eli owe Benny in the ribs, he starts kicking the door, mumbling curses under his breath.

Your groaning and crying gets louder. You can’t speak, but you want Benny and Frankie to leave, they can’t see you like this. You’re ugly, a monster. Your claws wrap around your stomach and tears stream down your face. Your bed is messed up, you’re on your floor crying.

“Perrito!” Frankie is the first to enter, then Benny. “BENNY? BENNY WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HER?”

Your vision is blurry but you look at Benny. Frankie is lightly touching you, your body begins to get hairy and your back arches.

“BENNY TELL ME RIGHT NOW!”

“She’s a werewolf…” Benny stares into Frankie’s eyes.

You feel your mouth morphing and whine.

“You didn’t tell me? Why?” Frankie’s eyes are filled with hurt.

“She didn’t feel comfortable. I found out on the camping trip. She killed the rabbit.” Benny explains quickly. Frankie stares down at you. Your body almost completely different. The groaning is quieting down. The pain is almost stopping.

Except… this warm feeling in your chest. You start to pant and stare at both of the men. You stretch your body and whine at Benny. He crouches down and pets your ear. “I’m sorry.”

You rub your nose into his hand then go to cuddle up next to Frankie, Benny sits on the other side of you.

You close your eyes and drift into a sleep.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was just scared. I could hear it from outside. I didn’t think you were hurting her. I knew you weren’t. But my mind was going all over the place because of her being in the lab. I didn’t know what had happened. What they did to her… I knew you two were closer than me and her and I knew something wasn’t right when you two came up that hill during the camping trip, I didn’t wanna start an argument then and I didn’t want to start one when I got home.” Frankie looks at Benny, smiling tiredly.

“I should’ve told you. But she wasn’t comfortable. We know she came from a bad environment and I wanted to be sure she could trust us. Not telling you unfortunately became apart of it. I’m sure when this is all over she’ll tell you everything.” Benny sighs and pets your sleeping form.

The two men decide to stay with you in your room, they pet you for a little then hold hands over you as they too fall asleep.

Tagged:

@fangirl-316

[incarnateirony]

It takes only a few minutes of research to see that Ariane Marder does the marketing for the Bridge Initiative, which is right up Misha’s alley of interest. Art + the environment + doing good? Uh, yeah, that sounds like something Misha would definitely be intrigued by. This may shock a lot of people but he does have interests outside of being an actor/SPN so it wouldn’t surprise me at all if they run in similar social circles and had planned to work together via RA and GISH at some point. They could even be friends, men and women are allowed to do that lmao

How the other anon went from that to being in a relationship to Ariane is Alma idek. Yeah she’s written articles about sexual health and other such things but being a writer doesn’t automatically equal being a poet.

Their “proof” is flimsy and coincidental at best imo.

I saw the cap. I've been staring at it. The cap does in fact exist, but just doesn't prove what their giant leaps of logic sent them to for the reasons you listed. I'm still open to it being Ari, because with what I'm looking at, it's either Misha or Ari according to this cap. I'm going to have to look at it again when I don't have a headache, has to do with potential signs of forwarding.

Like oh no. not another person being dated by a poly person. Everyone fall down dramatically so they get bored and leave.

if nothing else I can with those two candidates know exactly why the fuck that account is leaky.

[unknownjpegs]

interficere te

The vampire stays mostly still—because it’s mostly dead. Or, more dead than vampires already are. Funny thing, that. Considering a vampire dead or not; they usually say dusted. ‘You dust that fucking vampire?’ ‘Dusted two upstairs.’ ‘Got its fucking dust on me.’ Laughter, amongst the human hunters over it, the general slang terminology for a dead vampire, dying vampire, what remains vampire. Lark doesn’t laugh, and he usually likes to think of them as dead. Dead fucking dead; because that means he’s killing them.

Likes killing them.

This vampire is close, because it was a lone rogue beast. And there was Lark and Benny, and vampires tended to underestimate the usefulness of a human partner when hunting down and systemically fucking killing their kind. Lark ins’t that old, in vampire years, either. So they tend to underestimate him too. That’s usually a little bit of fun. He can work with that, work off that, because they’re always cocky. Vampires are the closest thing to God’s among their food source, so they walk around like they already are.

Lark chews the gum in his mouth, blows a bubble until one silver capped fang pops it. Then he wraps it around a finger and gently puts it against the wall beside the vampire’s head. It’s staked there, half on the ground. Two through its wrists keeping it pinned, one through its knee to the ground. It’s other leg is gone, because Lark had pulled it off during the fight and the creature was not going to get that fixed without blood.

“I like killing old ones like you,” Lark says, conversationally, as he crouches in front of the vampire. It’s vaguely feminine, but half feral, so it’s features have started warping. It’s eyes are all black, no red, no white. It’s ears too have taken on elfin features, pointed and long and before Lark had used the back of a knife to smash its teeth in, they’d been spindly. Less like his fangs, more like puncturing tools. Old. Real old, couldn’t remember humanity anymore, kept slipping.

He thinks about the dead woman in the alley that they couldn’t have saved from this one. No finesse within the creature, it had simply dropped from the roof and mauled her. Lark thinks most would assume that’s why he has so little empathy for the vampire; past it’s prime. Needing to die. Probably suffering as much as it’s victims, because it’s lost touch with everything but the blood lust.

Lark slowly pushes the tip of the knife under the vampires jaw to make it look at him. They’d be assuming incorrectly, of course. Because, Lark would kill any of them. Whether they were changing from blood drunk disease, or one of those sweet eyed, docile things that feels bad every time it has to rip open a donated blood bag. Fuck ‘em all. Kill them. Let God sort that shit out.

“I like it,” Lark explains, slowly sliding the automatic knife until it’s closed. “Because all the ones you’ve made feel it, don’t they? When you die, they all hurt for a moment. Just a brief little—ah—and then you’re gone. But they all know. That big ripple effect of pain.” And Lark knew it was true, because sometimes he still felt Akari in the back of his head. She was a nestled presence there and always would be and sometimes he knew when she was afraid—sometimes he knew when she was in pain. Sometimes he wished it would just be one big pain and then she’d disappear forever.

That was real fucking mercy.

“Interficere te…Traitor…” the vampire wheezes out through it’s bloody mouth. Lark pats its shoulder and it’s head swivels there slowly, mouth opening and closing like it might try for one last meal before death.

“I don’t speak Latin.”

Then Lark stands. He slips the hood of his jacket up. The vampire’s head lazily turns his way, it’s chest rising and falling even though it doesn’t need oxygen anymore. Even now, when it’s half creature, there is something lingering inside it that was once human. That craves air when it’s scared. Lark lifts his gloved hand and listens to the engine come alive in the car behind him. The vampires big black eyes stare up at him as he steps to the side and gestures his hand forward.

The cars lights flick on and for a moment, the vampire is simply washed in two ochre colored beams of light from the old mustang. Lark can see dust motes in the air. The vampire is wearing an old black and white striped long sleeve shirt that is soaked in the womans blood. It looks at him, gasping in air hard and then the lights change from yellow to a blinding and horrible white. Although his back is to it and he is covered completely, he swears he feels the burn.

The vampire actually burns, though; erupts immediately into flames. It screams with its vocal chords fraying, a loud and horrific shriek that echoes in the dark alleyway. It thrashes against the stakes through it so hard that the knee pops and it almost gets itself free. But it’s only almost—and then it dies. In one puff of fire and ash, it crumbles away into nothing. The lingering smell of it’s death makes Lark’s nose curl, his lips peeling back, those silver capped fangs clicking together with his bottom teeth.

There’s a shiver over his entire body as Lark sways backward, eyes closing. He feels himself slipping away, turning into the in between of nothing. For a moment, he’s a physical entity inside the alleyway, in front of that dusted vampire and the dead woman only feet away. Then he’s incorporeal; absolutely nothing inside the blistering cold darkness of a slice between it all. Lark doesn’t know how he does it, or why he can, or what it means, just that—it’s very handy because he’s instantly inside the car, in the passenger seat, tossing his feet onto the dashboard.

“Holy fu-fuck!” Benny slams himself against the driver side door and makes Lark laugh. He jerks his hood down and slaps the button on the dash to switch the car lights back to their regular orange glow. “I told you I fu-fucking hate when you d-do that shit!” Lark see’s better in the dark, so he can make all of Benny’s anxious features out perfectly. Those big, terrified pale eyes and the half moon bite mark on his chin where something had tried to ruin him.

Sometimes, Lark likes looking at Benny; looking at all the places of him that got mangled with vampire use. Good reminder of why they find them and kill them. Traitor. It was a species worth betraying.

“That was wicked,” Lark replies and Benny’s face slips more at ease, his twitchy smile large and dimpling his left cheek. They’re grinning at each other then, because Lark’s smile takes over his face, fangs and all.

“Very fucking wicked,” the human agrees, lifting a fist. Lark responds in kind, knocking their wrists together before he glances into the back seat. “He sle-slept through all that. Headphones in.” Lark can hear the music—something bass heavy, electronic, fast paced, but still, Xavier lays in the back with his whole body crunched up.

His unconscious face is tilted slightly toward the seat, his breathing deep and heavy. Arms folded across his chest, almost protectively, while his long legs have to stay bent to allow for all of him. Xavier look’s picturesque like that; if not a little sick. Dark purples under his eyes, skin a bit paler than usual. Lark feels a savage twist in his chest (not his unbeating, dead heart, but somewhere) because, like Akari, sometimes Xavier is inside his head now too. He didn’t know if that was imagined, simply because he was the only human Lark had ever given blood too.

Like Benny’s thrall scars, Xavier is always a good reminder of why they all should die. He still remembers scooping Xavier’s limp body up, his silver fangs tearing into his own wrist to shove it to the mans mouth—he’d been a stranger then. Just a guy who was almost killed by a vampire, interrupted before it went too far. But Lark had felt how small and weak he’d been in that moment. Only human.

“He’s been tired a lot,” Lark ruminates, black brows pulled in to carve a wrinkle in his forehead.

“Bee-been busy,” Benny replies, making a fist and an obscene gesture. “Oh—oh fuck, h-hot vampire, use me like—like a fuc-fucking pin cushion, please.” The blond rolls his pale eyes in mild disgust. There’s a moment of silence between the two confidants to Xavier’s really awful secret. Then, “Wa-wanna scare him?”

“Fuck yeah.”

They share a laugh as Benny leans into the back seat. Lark braces himself up against the car door and together, they start rocking it.

“Xavier! Fuck, wake up! Xavier!”

“Oh fu-fuck, Xavier, they’re coming for m-me, man! The fucking vampires are c-coming for me!”

“Holy shit, Xavier, it’s fucking Dracula!”

“What the fuck?” Xavier’s entire body explodes with his long limbs, an immediate jump as he slams his head into the window and his feet into the other one. He scrambles onto his side, his hand snapping his pistol from his holster with eerie precision. “What the fuck?” He continues yelling, wide eyed and shocked, but there’s always that gleam underneath too. Lark notices, wonders if Benny does too; how quick this human is to actual violence can sometimes be jarring.

Instead of lingering on the thought, Lark dissolves into high pitched laughter. He kicks the dashboard hard in delight, slapping his own chest and laughing. Benny’s giggles are infectiously awful, snorting occasionally on one as he melts into the drivers seat. He’s gasping for air, laughing louder and louder. Like it’s that funny, when it’s arguably so fucking stupid.

There’s the smell of the dusted vampire still in the air.

Xavier lets the pistol dangle in his hand as he stares at them both.

“I should fucking kill you both,” he snaps, his cheeks going dark red. Lark feels the moment soiled for a minute, because saliva pools in his mouth at the image. He has to glance away and to the stakes in the wall. The only remaining part of the dead vampire. He’s still grinning, snorting through his nose, but he can’t look at that full faced flush Xavier gets when he’s mad.

“You mi-missed us use your thing. It worked, by the way.”

“Yeah?” Xavier slumps back into the seat, laying again as he tucks the gun into the holster. “I told you it would.”

“Little mechanic. Our sweet boy,” Lark jokes, leaning over the back to yank at Xavier’s shirt, reveal the tattoo of those exact words on his stomach. There’s a deep purple bruise on his hip bone that has too distinct of a puncture mark to be anything else. Explanations for their mechanics horrible sleep patterns. Xavier’s face goes red again, his hand yanking the shirt down as Lark falls back into the seat with a snorted laugh.

Benny cuts off conversation by turning the car over. Because he’s driving, and drivers rules dictate music choice, rap music blares immediately into the car. He peels away from the crime scene, rubber burning as they back out. Lark can hear, even over the music, the imperceptible sound of Xavier’s breathing stilling. Back to sleep, even with Ben’s horrible driving and the loud music.

Lark tucks a thumb up under his fang and stays quiet for the remainder of the drive home.

[evansencezz]

—WHO HAS THE CHOICE LIKE SMARTY DOES??- OC HEADCANNONS AND FACTS—ヽ(^□^｡)ノ

Notes: Silly little head cannons, what even is this, litterally info dumping, smoking, austism, neourdivergent, these can be taken as cannon or non-cannon, idk small little facts bout my ocs, skrunkiles, this is pretty cringe, most of these realeate to a modern au so shut up, fluff??, idfk, music, shortest note section ever, rag tag ocs, group ocs, spefific ocs.

U・x・U—Violet Evergarden—she/her—U・x・U

-idk if i said this or not yet but she’s austistic lol-

-her favorite drink from starbucks would defentily be a sugar cookie almond milk lattee what can i say-

-cannoncially demisexual with pansexual and poly undertones-

-her personality was actually inspired from donnie from tmnt and a mix of suimuki and a touch of rei from ngev (neon gensis evangelion)-

-yes, her name is based off of the anime character and show ‘violet evergarden’.-

-her special intrests are body anatomy and space.-

-cannot stand loud noises like screaming or shouting. her hands will automatically go to her ears. OH AND FIREWORKS SHE HATES THOOSE THINGS WITH A BURNING PASSION ‼️‼️-

-fucking hates high rise jeans and wishes they would die 😡-

-bullies kids on roblox-

-absoutelte grammar freak. like if u dare spell something wrong or use the wrong term she will punch you even though she doesnt type in caps.-

-her favorite colors are navy blue and ivory-

-consumes a shit ton of media and is a absoutetle nerd about every fandom ever-

-has a enemies to lovers with iris moment going on idfk-

-fucking hates annoying people who only care about beauty-

-cant stand overacheivers for some reason even though she is one!! LOSERRRR-

-average crusty insomaniac with greasy hair and a werido gambling obession-

-loves sweet shit would devour a whole wedding cake if she could-

-motherfucker would have a twitter account and go after EVERYONE. AND I MEAN, EVERYONE.-

-is actually really pale and if you squint or she actually goes outside for once, you can see her blue veins-

-says she doesnt fall for people yet she has a shit ton of fictional crushes-

-this isnt even a real headcannon but the little rag tag group and her gives me so much sertion-

-touch starved-

-while dating, violet is pretty closed off unless you talk about her special intrests. and she gets extremely embrassed at small things.-

-actually intense stage fright like she was throwen up on stage once for something iris planned and she was just a fucking mummbling mess.-

-bottom i make no changes bro.-

-if she was in school her favorite subject would be biology cmon now 😭-

-makes werid faces sometimes just like cringing and overexaggerated ones-

-actually doesn’t mind the nicknames V’ but no way she would actually say that-

-super duper clumsy and has fallen over on her crutches a good handful on times.-

-also really really texture senstive like she hates the feeling of itchy things, ice, squishy things, and slimy things.-

-can speak koeran, spanish, french, and russian-

-knows how to make really good coffee for some reason and would be a starbucks barista in now time-

-def likes slow 90’s music or lofi music-

-agrueabbly funniest out of the group-

-borderline sometimes forgets to eat when shes reading, on social media, or busy-

-most defentily has reactions like trying to cover her face when she smiles so much or when she’s embrassed-

-actually doesn’t mind ariana grande-

v(°∇^*)⌒☆—Iris Redbrook-they/them—v(°∇^*)⌒☆

-I HATE THIS BITCH 😡🔥🔥‼️‼️-

-awful just awful-

-their personality is an exact copy of rise!leo, someone help me.-

-certifed ‘leader’ of the rag tag group-

-non-cannon certified crush on violet?!? 😱-

-has been throwen into pocket dimesone multiple times and just brushed it off 😨-

-“OMFG IRISSSS!!”-while their being throwen into a blackhole.-

-“fuck not again 😞😞”- them bro-

-chaos creator bro, has started multiple bar fights. and won all of them somehow.-

-rarely actually bursts out in actual laughter, mainly its just snickers and shit 😒-

-number one lesbian in my face rn-

-spams the GC in modern au with fucking stupid ass memes-

-cannon guitar player-

-middle child average 🔥🔥-

-slacker in school def-

-bright colors bright colors everywhere-

-massive fan of parties like in the ‘episode’ where they all went to a party for a mission they were living it up bro ☠️-

-favorite drink from starbucks is a vanilla bean frapiccno with a shot of expresso and strawberry puree, ultimate meance-

-non-cannoically but implied ADHD-

-also agrueablly funniest out of the group-

-ulitmate leader on like teasing and flirting but then rejecting people 🤨-

-has actually slight anger issues but hides them pretty well-

-finds true crime rlly intresting and watches podcasts-

-sometimes makes self-depriving jokes and gets embrassed when people immeditally comfort them after.-

-“well that was dissaponiting..”-violet

-“not as dissaponting as me apprently lol!”-iris

-“no don’t say that!! your cool, iris!”-some rando’ idfk

-“WH-(｡･･｡)…”-iris

-if u date them be preapred to be showed off and flirted with constantly-

-they r only 20 but they defentily drank before and this is cannon bc i said so-

-loves titties but hates their own-

-has creative ass insults for some reason??-

-“listen here you little SHIT bag”-

-“WHAT”-everyone ever 😨

-knows how to swing dance?!-

✩⃛˞(๑ꆨ৺ꉺ๑)—Chiyo yang-she/her—✩⃛˞(๑ꆨ৺ꉺ๑)

-honestly a nerd-

-def likes the slight croquette aesthetic but leans towards a more fem type of style-

-her favorite show would defentily be either bloom into you or nana-

-firm believer in bisexual chiyo-

-she’s the type of person that wouldn’t mind the idea of polyamory but doesn’t know if it’s completly for her-

-defentily also likes slow 90’s and early 2000’s but also likes pop stuff-

-defentily has a stash of romance mangas in her room-

-so obessed with the color pink like it’s unhealthy-

-spotify would do her dirty on the yearly wrap shit they do-

-in modern au she would absoutetly love saniro no changing my mind on this-

-has a slight teasing nature to her but nowhere as bad as iris’s is 😡-

-absoutetly loves the beach for some reason and traveling during summer?? like it just fills her with so much nostagalia and stuff like what ☠️-

-has trouble forming how she feels or what she actually means with words and gets annoyed at herself-

-her hair color is natural, by pink i mean like a pinksh blonde like almost like a strawberry blonde-

-defentily knows how to speak japense and spanish-

-super intrested in different cultures and learning about the world, like god bless you if ur her friend and from a different contient or culture.-

-super good at baking for some reason?? even though she doesn’t do it often-

-if u date chiyo just expect to be holding her back by the collar of her shirt from doing something reckless-

-i made her personality a mix of kel from omori and hero, slightly chaotic but mature in serious moments-

-gives off air head vibes but is surprisngly well-versed in things she likes 😞-

-listens to airana grande i dont make the rules-

-absoutetly hates being by herself like at all times she is with SOMEONE IDC WHO IT IS BUT ITS SOMEONE-

-fucking drinks, eats, and spits out fluff reading material and refuses to read anything else-

-kinda delousional TBH!! 😒-

-has something going on in that head but no one knows what shes thinking about-

-neither booksmart or lifesmart-

-firm believer in makeup and be used no matter what and its not for male eyes-

-also likes parties and messing around-

-please never pair her and iris together-

-defentily sings along with 90’s and 2000’s music at concerts and at parties-

-gets the biggest smile on her face when shes actually having fun with the rag tag drop-

(°ヮ°)—Venus Damershera-she/they—(°ヮ°)

-certifed mother figure of the group-

-don’t get me wrong, she’s funny too ☠️-

-def would have a aestehtic ass animal cross island-

-firm believer in christmas and december surpremacy and hates on spring-

-most defentily would cook for you if she found out someone wasn’t eating or something-

-bisexual-

-surprisngly has multiple ex’s (fuck them take me now venus 🤗🤗)-

-has a whole ass mf piano in her room or house that they don’t even play anymore, it just kinda..sits there..-

-recovering drug user NOT CANNON AT ALL-

-cannon milk drinker EW EWWWWW-

-surprisngly childish when ignored or bothered, like they always keep this mature thing up but when their annoyed their r surprisngly destructive-

-mentally unstable defentily-

-almost never curses but when she finally did iris was so happy-

-“okay, i don’t know who the FUCK told you to-!”-venus

-“OH MY GOD, VENUSSS CURSEDDDD!!”-iris

-has twitched simaliar to violet like her eye will visibly twitch or her hands will comb through her hair-

-defentily kins yuri and kaede from both dangonronpa and ddlc-

-broke a paintbrush once from trying to hold back anger due to something-

-smiles at people even though she wishes they would keel over in their head-

-defentily the most shy out of the rag tag group-

-likes poems and spritual things like crystals and incense etc-

-sometimes cries over her lost siblings 😰-

-has a journal where she remebers and recounts all the times and all the memories she has with them-

-has a slight obession with the color purple-

-her favorite princess is rosalia from mario-

-def listens things like wham and video game soundtracks-

-likes reading and has a pair of glasses-

-a slight hopeless romantic and gets embrased when iris teases her about it 😮-

-has a very small tooth gap but it’s not very noticeable-

-her eyes crinkle and her dimples show when she smiles-

-they def are one of those bitches who comes into starbucks and orders every single drink with oatmilk just so people know their gay-

-actually loves carides so much and spaces out while looking out the window 😝-

-one of those bitches who def goes after toxic people on twitter to defend an innocent person who is getting hate-

-certified overthinker 😱-

-people would def call them mommy on tiktok and they wouldn’t get it at all 😧-

-has big boobs-

-cannot lie to ur face for shit bro-

-gets really tense and flustered when people invade their personal bubble-

-actually pretty tall like 5’6 😓-

-a sucker for pretty men or dorky men like PRETTY GIRl STAND THE FUCK UP!!-

—defnetily one of those bitches who feeds you well bro like will make a effort to make sure u eat something-

-mama will be the sweetest lover ever bro-

-accidentally calls people ‘good girl’ or ‘good boy’ when they do something well and immeditally apologizes after-

Σ(`･ω･Ⅲ)—Noel Vixien-she/he/they—Σ(`･ω･Ⅲ)

-our genderfluid polysexual omni icon-

-defentily had a threesome at some point i dont make the rules-

-mf has ISSUES-

-fidigts alot and gets antsy when doing things solo but refuses help ☠️-

-secretly hates it when people compare them to christmas or the bath and body works scent-

-unironcally smells like vanilla-

-makes faces when something akward or cringe happens to get the point across-

-stuck play-dogh up her nose when she was younger-

-cannot go near curches-

-finds puns funny but immeditally looks the other way when she starts smiling-

-defentily scrunches their nose when messed with 😒-

-accidnetally punched ever other member of the group once or twice because they were snuck up on-

-has a pair of glasses but doesn’t really wear them-

-also likes reading but not super duper long books-

-cannoncially autistic-

-prefers to be called neourdivergent-

-is a skin picker as one of his nervous habbits-

-really texture senstive and refuses to eat things that are mushy, or really tough-

-has a mild fear of heights-

-smoker but makes sure to not do it around venus or violet-

-would most defentily work at a cafe’ with violet-

-doesn’t really have a spefic taste in music beside that she hates country-

-almost choked someone because they called them cronically online 🤗-

-people would defentily simp over them and iris if they had social media accounts bro-

-stubborn and bitter asshole 😡-

-fought with a homophobic protestor once and grabbed a random girl and kissed her while people cheered in the background-

-most defentily one of those girlfriends who pulls you into a kiss by the collar roughly-

-doesn’t mind physical touch but sometimes it can be too much 😰-

-please if ur dating them don’t be upset when they say no to cuddles like cuddles to them is sitting side by side sort of huddled together, not body aganist body contact 😞-

-certified girlboss-

-paces around and tugs on their hair roughly when their annoyed or stressed out-

-loves the starbucks iced chai’s with oatmilk and sugar cookie syrup (boy that is litterally just desert)-

-married to the mango and white monster energy-

-horrible anixety when ordering food at a resturant or something like bro what 😧-

-doesn’t know how to wink-

-flinches and jumps really high when spooked out-

-also makes cringe or disgusted sounds when freaked out or shaken up-

-has a bitch resting face but doesn’t really care 🙏-

-doesn’t really like large groups of people but will go to a party if it’s absoutetly nesscasary-

-get’s werid shivers and jolts to her body due to her well-half mortal condition-

-if you hold his hands, his whole left side is warm and basically a human identical. but his right side is unaturally pale and discolored and abosutetly freezing-

-gets a shit-ton of body aches like headaches, fatigue, tiredness-

-constantly cracking some bone in his body like bc it FUCKING HURTSSSSS?!!-

-motherfucker flipped off someone while on a misson and almost died-

-croncially dense-

-likes sweet creamer unaturally amount-

-defentily gets alot of hyperfixations-

-collects crystals and maps 😮-

-an absoutetle history nerd espically greek and roman history ☠️-

-sweats alot when put under pressure what can i say they aren’t good under pressure (me fr)-

-has slight anger issues but nothing too bad-

END

[cqsuanla]

fury shakes the rafters

pairing: dark!nat/f!reader

summary:

Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. And that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

(inspired by jennifer’s body)

additional notes: mommy kink, dom/sub, bloodplay(?), dacryphilia, uhh pussy spanking, choking, unhealthy relationship, terrible aftercare

title from a song suggested by an anon: nobody by the crane wives

(ao3)

The light in the stairwell flickers, but it doesn’t make a difference, dim and dirty as it is. It buzzes distantly in your ears. You’re too focused on taking the steps two at a time to notice. You hold your groceries to your chest and fish your keys out of your pocket. If you were strong like Nat, you might just have knocked the door clean of its hinges with the force of your body. Instead, it crashes loudly into your wall, and you nearly fall on your face from the momentum. 

In a bid to gain purchase on your wall, you sweep your coat rack over, and you stumble over it. The clatter makes you wince — you hope she’s in a good mood. It’s hard for her to process stimuli when she’s weak. You scramble onto your hands and knees, shoving scattered boxes and cans into the grocery bag. 

Then, the rhythmic thud-thud of footsteps. You pause, exhaling as your eyes close. 

“Drink?” in a monotone. 

Yikes. You open your eyes, biting your lip. Steel-toed boots. You’ve told Nat a million times that this is a shoes-off apartment. She never listens, and you never argue more. Nat stays; she’s the only one who’ll stay. You can’t drive her away. 

Her right boot rises, scraping against the floor, and you flinch. It just kicks a cereal box away so it can nudge at the shopping bag. The way she says your name, evenly, firmly, has you blinking rapidly, has your hands automatically shooting to the bag, following her prompt. Thank god the bottles are fine. You don’t know what you’d do if they had shattered. 

You wiggle a beer out of the pack, and only then do you dare to make eye contact. 

“Hi,” you murmur. 

She gives you a brief glance, impassive, before snatching the bottle from your hand and returning to her spot on the armchair. “That fucking coat rack.” She flicks the cap off your side table, grungy and scratched up for this very reason. The cap bounces off the wall and disappears under the couch. “Just move it further in. You never listen.” 

You did, weeks ago. You don’t say so. 

The coat rack came with the place, and it was nice, so you refused to get rid of it. Nat hated it, hated that it was so close to the door in your already bite-sized entryway, but never enough to throw it out herself. But you did move it because her complaints were valid, and you wanted her to like being here with you, living here with you. Anyway, she stopped complaining afterwards. Not that you think she noticed — you supposed it was a minor inconvenience to her, the way a fly was, annoying when it was in your face but non-existent once it stopped bothering you. 

Quietly, you move your groceries to the kitchen island, putting everything but your new medical supplies away. There are dirty plates in the sink, which you’ll wash after you make yourself dinner. You wonder what she’s eaten – you’d just bought two new steaks, but Nat likes a bowl of strawberry ice cream now and then.

The TV channel switches in the background. Nat snorts, and you peek around the wall to catch a report on the gruesome series of murders that have been happening lately. People in the neighbourhood hardly went out anymore, too afraid of the dark now. It would scare you too if you weren’t well aware you’d never fall victim. Nat was with you, after all, and you were with her. 

You would be with her for as long as she’d let you. So, what if she was the monster in the dark? So what? It was Nat. Your Nat. She came back to you, talked to you, fucked you. It’s not like she was disembowelling you in some grimy alleyway. She kept most of the violence away from you because she cared. Anyway, like everyone else, she had to eat. You couldn’t fault her for that. 

You’re pulling the gauze out of its packaging when Nat scoffs loudly at the news. They must’ve insulted her because she clicks the TV shut, practically inhales half her bottle and flings the remote onto the couch. 

Then, she sets her sights on you, meek behind the counter, and raises an eyebrow. “Honey, the hall’s a mess. Clean it up.” 

You frown. “You’re still hurt.” 

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll eat tomorrow, and it’ll be fine.” 

You don’t think so. The longer Nat doesn’t eat, the worse it gets. It’s how she’s in this mess in the first place. Nat’s ethereal after a feeding, next to omnipotent. But the guy she picked to eat last week turned out to be some sort of track star because he had booked it at the first sign of trouble, and she’d been forced to retreat when the sirens started blaring. The day after that, she picked a local thug as her next meal, and she’d been caught off guard by the switchblade. So, here she is: slumped on your couch and stitched up sloppily. 

Her hair is limp, skin wane and dry, and in a bad enough mood that you can basically feel it every time you’re within a two-meter radius of her. 

Her physical weakness emboldens you a little, makes you think you can get away with a bit of stubbornness. You pick up the gauze and tape and round the corner. A car speeds by, high beam making Nat’s eyes glint a deep green in the dark. The green follows you the whole way until she has to crane her head around to watch you slip her tank top off a shoulder. 

Those eyes weren’t like that before when you first started dating. You don’t mind the changes, though. Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. 

“You don’t want to listen?” she asks, almost conversationally. 

You know better. You clench and unclench your fist. Shakily, you lift it and tuck a hair behind Nat’s ear, hoping foolishly that it will placate her. 

“Baby,” says she, like a gentle mother to a misbehaving child, “you should really listen.” 

You trace the bumps of her stitches, staring hard at her shoulder so you won’t have to see that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

“At least answer me.” 

“No, Nat,” you mutter, undoing the bandages on her bicep. “I don’t want to listen.”

To her credit, she lets you fix her up. Methodically, silently, you clean her wounds and rewrap them in new bandages. She doesn’t get in the way unless it’s to take a swig of her drink. 

When you’re done with her arms and back, you move to her front. She’s got an ugly gash on her calf, bruised midway from where the man had kicked her bleeding leg. You imagine this is causing her the most pain, not just physically. Nat’s not great with sitting still. She’s independent to a fault, enjoying control to the point that it’s probably some sort of diagnosable complex, and this restriction on her mobility has her restless and irritated. 

Looking down at her, at the space between her knees, you wonder if she’ll cooperate with you. The last time you tried to clean her leg, she’d torn your duvet in half and has since refused to let you look at it. But Nat tilts her head, coy, and gestures toward the space in front of her with her bottle. 

“Scared?” she whispers.

You glance at her face just in time to catch her tongue tracing the jagged end of a canine. Mutely, you shake your head. She smiles wide.

“Liar.”

Of course. You’re always scared of her. For her, too. But you don’t think it matters; it doesn’t change anything. You just want to help her, be good for her. Anyway, she’s trying to get a reaction out of you. You refuse to take the bait, raising your eyebrows and wiggling the bandages in your hand.

“Fine.” With a roll of her eyes, she parts her legs. 

As if dealing with a feral animal, you move slowly, cautiously, afraid to make sudden movements lest she starts getting violent. You squat down and reach for the cuff of her sweatpants. 

“Ah, ah.” She slides the leg back, staring down her nose at you. You pause. “Kneel, baby.” 

Her eyes — did the ring of green get thinner? Your lips part, anticipation beginning to seep into your body, and you comply. Once you’re settled, looking up at her, she makes that same careless gesture with her bottle. A go-ahead. 

As you work, she shifts to put her beer on the table and then combs a hand into your hair. You tense, eyeing her nervously, but she only watches you, imperious, intense, and remains silent. Nevertheless, you pick up the pace, tossing the antiseptic aside and winding the gauze around her pale calf. 

She’s startlingly warm under your hands. Ever since… whatever happened to her — she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the details — she’s run hotter than ever. You can’t sleep under a blanket with her anymore unless you’re shirtless; the heat would be unbearable. Not that Nat has any complaints about that. 

“All done,” you murmur. 

The lack of reaction from Nat gives you the courage to lean forward and press a sweet kiss to the top of her knee. The hand in your hair rewards you with a gentle scratch, and you can’t help melting into a smile. She’s still got that air of arrogance about her when you look up at her, but she’s not glaring. Which is why it comes entirely as a surprise when she clenches a fistful of hair in her hand, yanking your head back, and slaps you clean across the face with her other hand. 

You take the full brunt of her palm with a cry, almost toppling over were it not for the grip on your hair. Your cheek burns, and so does your eyes. Mostly from pain, partly from the shock of it, maybe a little from shame when you realize you’re getting wet from the rough treatment. 

Nat tuts. “Crying already?” 

You imagine you look pretty pathetic on your knees for her, eyes glassy.

“Don’t give me those eyes, baby; you know I can’t help myself.” 

“I just wanted to help.” 

“I know,” Nat says gently, tipping your head back again so you can see the false sincerity on her face. “You can fix this, you know?” 

Your eyebrows furrow, thoughts racing a mile a minute to puzzle out what she means. 

“Don’t think so hard. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll show you how, dumb baby,” she coos as she nudges your chin with the knuckle of her finger, and you can’t help flushing deeply at that. Then, she offers a hand, and you take it, and she tugs you up into a straddle on her lap. “Come here.” 

You instinctively wind your arms around her neck, clinging on. Beneath you, she tenses and lets out a low rumbling sound that resonates deep in her chest. You inhale sharply. 

Teeth. Sharpened to deadly points. Poised over your neck. Nat’s breath comes short and hot against your skin, and her tongue, when it peeks out, drags wetly across your skin. 

This has happened once before; the first night she’d come back changed. Like before, she noses at your flushed skin, teasing you with the possibility of damage, and trails her teeth down to your traps. Back then, she hadn’t bitten you. She won’t now, you think, you hope. 

She sighs again, hovering over the meat of your shoulder and prodding her teeth against you. Doesn’t break the skin. 

“Don’t make it worse for yourself. Are you scared?” 

This time, you nod. Nat’s lips curve into a smile, and her hold on your thighs tighten enough to bruise. 

“You should listen, sweetheart,” she says against you. The front of her teeth scrapes over you when she speaks, leaving red marks behind. “I hurt you less when you’re good. Don’t you know?”

“How can you be in the mood?” you wonder, burying your face into the crook of her neck. “You’re half dead.”

“Barely.”

It would take a lot more to kill Nat like this. Anyway, how could you be in the mood when your girlfriend’s cut up like this? 

Nat stands abruptly, ignorant to your yelps and complaints, and dumps you back onto the couch in quick succession. Before you can even register what’s happened, she’s yanked your bottoms down to your ankles and has climbed between your legs. 

Even after that, you don’t get the chance to speak. She wraps her hand around your throat and pins you to the cushions. You grab onto her wrist.

Her body bears down, and you break into a sweat, in small part due to nerves, some part because she’s shoving her hand up your shirt to grab roughly at your bra, but mostly because she’s near scalding. You’re convinced her blood runs at a constant boil now. You’ve grown to love the heat, though. With her, pleasure comes white-hot, and you’d want it no other way. 

“Nat-”

“No,” she growls, and you get an eyeful of her monstrous teeth. She flexes both hands, cutting off your airway and squeezing your breast painfully. You whimper, wound tight as a coil. “Listen to me, baby.”

You look at her through hazy eyes. 

“Those eyes again. God, I love you like this.” Foolishly, your heart clenches at those words. She rucks your shirt up and claws her nails down your front. Beads of blood bloom from the thin scratches she leaves behind. “You’re beautiful when I hurt you.”

Her hand nearly crushes your throat closed, but then she releases you, and you suck air in desperately. Your hands, shaken off her arm, reach for the sides of her head. “Nat,” you croak, tasting the salt from your tears on your lips. “Nat.”

She shakes her head, descending on your chest. It hurts – badly. “Be good for mommy.”

“Mommy,” you gasp out, arching into her mouth. She ignores your pert nipples, electing instead to lick and suck at the burn between your breasts. “Please, please.”

“Shut up,” she hisses. Oh, her teeth are still out. “Hands above your head.”

You obey, another sad sound crawling out of your abused throat. 

The dark pits of her eyes drink in the sight of you, face crumpled in pain and need. A thumb wipes up the last of your blood, and she delights in smearing it across your cheek. 

“Messy baby, clean up after yourself. It’s basic,” she chides, thumb still rubbing at your face as if she were fixing up some runny mascara. “Be good now.”

You don’t dare to speak, just nod and look pleadingly up at her. Your core aches from neglect. 

She makes quick work of that, reaching down to feel the slick between your thighs. Humming, she smirks and very deliberately rubs her middle finger over your clit. You jerk up into her, mouth falling open even as you strangle your moan. 

“I could do anything to you, and you’d still want me.” 

Again, you nod. 

“Where did my little liar go?” she baits. You shake your head. “Say ‘thank you, mommy, for letting me breathe.’”

It takes you a moment to gather the brain cells and say: “Thank you, mommy.”

Her smile widens, teeth back to normal. “Again, for the lesson.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

She brings her hand down on your cunt, full strength. You scream, jolting away from her. Well, you would have if she hadn’t pressed you down by the chest, entirely uncaring about the wound she’d left there. Tears leak out the sides of your eyes, trickling into your hairline. 

“Thank me for that too,” she demands.

“Thank you,” you cry around a hiccup. 

One more spank, and another, and another. Your legs kick uselessly against the cushions, body twisting after every awful smack.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Your hole clenches around nothing, slick leaking onto the couch. Then, two fingers dip into you, and Nat thrusts them up hard and fast. She’d shoved them in on a contraction, and it hurts for a second before she’s curling her fingers into the velvet of your walls. 

She makes a pleased sound. “Tight as always. Makes me want to tear you in half, baby.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “Th-” She starts up a fast pace, digging her fingertips into your front wall. “Thank you!”

Her cheek rests on your chest, listening to the thunder of your heart. “We should try that big one.” Impossibly, your heart rate quickens at the thought, and you manage to shake your head. She laughs, the sound sharp and cruel, and music to your ears. “Maybe another time then.”

She sits up then, still working her fingers into your cunt, and moves her other hand to your mons. She pets gently over your labia, a sharp contrast to the vicious pace she’s keeping up. Your head spins. 

“My baby,” she breathes, “good enough to fucking eat.”

But she parts your folds to press her fingers into your clit, circling them once, twice, thrice, and you’re so close. So desperately close. 

She leans down, near delicate in her movements, and licks into your mouth. You taste copper and beer and the faintest sweetness. Urgently, you try to kiss back. 

If she’s mean, she’d pull back and deny you the chance to come with her mouth on yours. 

She must think that you’ve suffered enough, though, because she rubs her thumb at your clit and drives her fingers deeper into you, and you push up as far as you can into her body with a scream. You’re swallowed in molten heat, pleasure stripping away at you until you’re just bones on the couch. 

When you come to, Nat’s pulling out some bandages for your chest. You’re too tired to do or say anything, forced into silence by her dominance. 

She smiles at you, still not kind, but it doesn’t look bestial like before. Maybe just self-satisfied. She strokes your sweaty hair as she fixes you up, shushing you if you moan quietly from aftershocks or pain. You are in a lot of pain, bruised and scratched up as you are.

“Good girl,” she says when she’s done. 

Finally, you muster the energy to grab her hand and say, “Thank you.”

She lets you hold on for a few seconds before pulling away. “Sure.”

You wish she’d hold you for a bit, but you don’t vocalize it. She’s been through too much in the last few days; you shouldn’t burden her—

“Don’t be fucking needy,” she says, suddenly and harshly. Your face must have given you away. 

“I don’t mean to be,” you mutter, bringing your arm up to cover your eyes. Feeling stupid, feeling mad that you feel stupid, you say: “It would just be nice if you’d stay for a bit.”

A hand grabs your arm, yanking it away from your head, and you’re treated to a view of her scowl. “Where would I go?”

You didn’t mean it that way, but you don’t know how to get out of this hole you’ve dug yourself. “I-I don’t know.”

Out of nowhere, her hand slaps your cunt again, overstimulated, sore, puffy. You groan, curling in on yourself and hugging your knees to your chest. 

“Fuck, Nat.”

She takes the opportunity to sit down on the end of the couch, where your legs once were. The TV turns back on, and you hear her take a sip from her can of beer. “Clean up the hall later.”

At least she stayed.

[erodasfishtacos]

mlb!harry or ceo!harry mrs coming home from a night out with the girls, drunk af and wanting her man would be super cool.

When I Come Home (mini blurb)

I’ll do both (no sex though cause H isn’t a creep. Remember if someone is under the influence they can’t consent!)

—

CEO!H (married but pre-Ivy)

—

It’s just so funny because H is so no nonsense all the time except with YN.

She went out with her friends from college, it was a Thursday night, and Harry was stuck in their home office working on a contract.

He hears the front door open with a muttered, “Fuck.”

That’s all it takes for him to know she’s smashed.

Before he can even finish his sentence he’s typing, YN appears in front of him, heels kicked off, and eyeliner starting smudge.

“Hi H,” She smiles widely from the door before sauntering in - trying to be sexy despite her clumsy feet.

“Hi, m’heart,” Harry responds with a humorous smile, letting a puff of air when she plops heavily on his lap like dead weight.

It only takes a moment before she’s starting to swivel her hips down onto his, she was always a horny drunk.

“C’mon pet,” Harry chastises, strong hands coming pause the motions, “Y’been drinkin’.”

“Please,” Her words whiny, “Get me off, baby.”

“I said no,” Harry says firmly, kissing her shoulder to ease his harsh words.

YN let’s out another spoiled whine of displeasure when she can’t move her hips even an inch, can feel him naturally responding to her.

“Don’t be a brat,” He reminds her, tapping his finger against her lips.

She can also be a crabby drunk.

“Wha’s a husband for if you’re not gonna get me off?” YN bites, slipping off his lap and muttering, “Do it myself.”

Harry grit his teeth at the jab of his husbandly duties but grunts, turning back to his computer screen, “Cheers.”

“Dick,” YN whispers to herself, not quietly at all, as she leaves the office without another glance his way.

Harry goes about his own business but it’s mere minutes later when he hears his wife call for him impatiently.

When he steps into their bedroom, YN is sat on the bed with a furrowed brow and pouty lips as she glares at him.

“I can’t get my dress off.”

“Y’just called me a dick. Now you want my help, hmm?” Harry hums with a teasing smirks, widening when his wife glares.

“Help me,” She simply demands, no manners whatsoever.

But Harry’s in love with the pouty, spoiled woman in front of him and he really can’t say no to her when she needs help.

He stands her up, hands brushing the caps of her shoulders before slowly taking the zipper down on the back of her dress.

Harry helps her step out of it, just in a soft cotton thong and he unclasps her bra to let it fall limply to the floor.

She turns around, leaning in to kiss his lips softly, and her hands come to the hem of his tee and lifting it up until the hard muscles of his stomach are revealed.

“Sweetheart,” He says with a disapproving frown but she’s hushing him quiet until she’s pulling it over his head and slipping it over her own.

It makes him soften, “M’so gone for you.”

YN just snorts and says, “Good thing I agreed to marry you then.”

-

MLB!YN.

The three boys were already fast asleep for the night.

Harry was waiting up for his wife in the living room, spread out of the further couch.

The couple had an app where they could track each other’s location and he was making sure that YN was okay constantly.

He must have dozed off because he is a bit disoriented when the front door closes a bit loudly and the sound of shoes being kicked off echos.

Then he sees his missus, looking absolutely gorgeous in a pair of tight high waisted jeans and a lacy bodysuit tucked into it.

“Hi mama, y’look so good,” Harry mumbles, rubbing his eyes and sitting up a bit more to drink in the sight of his wife.

By the bright twinkle in her eye, he could tell she had a nice buzz going still from most likely the blackberry margaritas she loves.

He couldn’t lie, he quite enjoyed when his wife was a bit tipsy. She was already cuddly and sweet without alcohol but it just intensified it.

Harry’s mouth went a bit dry when she shucked off both her tight jeans and body suit. It left her in a strapless bra and nude thong.

YN is quickly making her way to her husband and complaining, “Make room f’me.”

Harry does, wriggling onto his side and moving until his back is against the cushions.

She waste no time in laying down next time him on her side, facing him and nuzzling happily into the curve of his neck.

His hands can’t help but roam her now bare skin, tickling up her sides, squeezing at the plush of her hips, rubbing circles on her tummy.

“Missed you,” YN murmurs against his skin, sleepiness already coating her tone as she hums as he gives her back a few scratches.

“I missed you too. I thought about y’all night, mama,” Harry tells her truthfully, ducking down to kiss her nose.

YN sighs loudly, hands coming behind her to release the tight bra and tossing it to the ground, smushing her breasts up against Harry’s bare chest - it was sexual but it was still intimate.

“Why the sigh, darling?” He asks against her hair, it stills smelled like his shampoo, sandalwood and cinnamons.

“The girls were…talking about how they can’t believe how loyal you are to me because we’ve been together since college and you have all these other girls who are so gorgeous who want you,” YN usually doesn’t struggle with insecurity but every once in awhile a comment would make her unsure.

Harry pulls back and pulls her gaze to his, “The reason I’ve been so loyal t’you since college is because I’m fuckin’ bloody obsessed with you.”

“H..”

“Let me finish, don’t even have time to think about any other woman. I’m too busy thinkin’ about the next time I get t’fuck you, cuddle you, love on you.”

“I love you,” She smiles softly, letting the nasty quell of feelings dissipate.

“Plus, put three babies in you. Gonna put more in you. Best mama, best wife, nobody compares t’you. You’re m’soulmate,” Harry whispers against her lips before lightly brushing them together.

“Speaking about fucking me,” YN giggles coyly, taking her husband’s hands and moving them to her arse.

Harry groans, graciously squeezing the firm muscle in his palms, “Don’t tease me, know we can’t when y’tipsy.”

“Tomorrow?” YN asks hopefully, whimpering at the harsh grip he has on her bum.

Her husband lets out a honking laugh, “Y’act like i don’t try to get your cunt whenever I can.”

“Filthy mouth,” She chastises sleepily, thumb coming to drag along his full lips, dragging down a bit.

“Let’s get you up to bed, darling,” Harry nips at her finger, “Don’t want one of the boys getting an eye full.”

—

The next morning, it’s barely even dawn when Harry’s waking his wife up with suckling, wet kisses along the expanse of her tummy.

“H, fuck,” She groans, luckily not feeling hungover from the night before instead arousal pooling in the pit of her stomach.

“Mornin’ mama,” He rasps, voice scratchy - telling her he just woke up too.

“Did you just wake up and automatically start making a move?” She giggles quietly, running her fingers through his messy curls.

“Mmm,” He agrees without an ounce of shame, “Fuckin’ dream about you, can’t help I wake up wanting y’on my tongue.”

“Okay, go on then. Remind me why I married you,” YN teases but it gets cut off with a moan when he pushes her panties to the side and laps at her clit.

“Remember why you did now?” Harry replies cockily against her folds before dragging his teeth against the sensitive bud.

—

[kazuluvs]

Uhhh Chifuyu and Possession???

+ EXCERPT: you want to look away from your demeaning form in the mirror. want to sob and tell him to stop humiliating you like this, to let up on the pressure on your neck and leave your body and take his own form and let you cum on his cock, not your fingers.

+ TAGS: afab!reader, demon!chifuyu, possession, slight dubcon (it's stated u can stop the scene but js in case), complete loss of control, masturbation, humiliation, slight degradation, chifuyu is a tease n a little mean in this (so possibly ooc idk), breathplay (choking), uhh think that's it || nsfw, minors dni.

+ A/N: lowkey hate this but the concept had me by the pussy so here u go (ty for the prompt btw!!) also first time writing in proper caps n it feels weird LMAO

When you’d first agreed to his proposal, this wasn’t what you’d envisioned.

A mirror is situated directly in front of you, reflecting the clear image of you lying pliant and spread out on your bed, a sheen of sweat covering your body with your puffy pussy on display. If you had any control of your body, you would’ve squeezed them shut out of embarrassment.

Unfortunately, you’ve given up that right to the demon inside you.

You hear his chuckles reverberate through your mind, and a whine gets stuck in your throat as he swipes your fingers over your abused clit, slick and oversensitive from the previous times he'd worked your body to the edge only to pull you away.

“Still want more, huh?” Chifuyu teases, the rumble of his voice echoing throughout your head, “I can feel it, y’know. Can feel your body get all needy and tight tryna cum again.”

Another whimper tries to leave your throat, but it doesn’t make it out. It’s a bizarre experience, to say the least; to be conscious of everything around you and feel your body moving but not have any control over it. Your demon boyfriend doesn’t give you the time to dwell on it, however, plunging your fingers into your sloppy cunt and expertly dragging them along your hot walls.

“Good thing I know your body better than yourself, hm?” he hums, spreading your fingers and looking down at the glossy mess of your cunt—consequently forcing you to look at it, too—feeling a mirthful grin form on your face when the embarrassing knot in your gut twists, heat flushing under your skin and bringing you closer to the climax you’re humiliatingly desperate for.

“Why’re you embarrassed, baby? You’re pretty like this, don’cha think?” Chifuyu whispers, your breathing stuttering when he allows your hips to grind down on your digits, angling your palm so that it slaps against your clit every time he makes you fuck yourself, “so wet from me taking control. You like this? Like being completely helpless against me?”

The drenched sounds of your pussy echo in the room, your hole squelching loudly when he quickens the pace of your fingers. He forces them deeper inside you, making them reach places you're not sure you could've found yourself. Your eyes roll back when he curls your fingers up into a spot that makes your back bow off the bed.

"Shit—guess that's your spot, huh?" he sounds breathless in your head, but it doesn't register to you, not when he keeps thrusting into that gummy spot to bring you closer to your high, your arousal dripping down onto your ruined bedsheets.

It's not until your hand, previously rolling and pinching at your nipple, trails up to your neck that you come back to your surroundings. Your breathing picks up and fear spikes up in your chest when he wraps your hand around your throat, your cunt panickedly tightening around your fingers.

“Fuck,” he laughs, the sound resonating in your mind, “did you just clench around me?” his profane voice forces tears to prick at the corner of your eyes, your mouth automatically falling open and soundlessly crying when he increases the pressure on your throat. “You’re sick, y’know that?”

You want to look away from your demeaning form in the mirror. Want to sob and tell him to stop humiliating you like this, to let up on the pressure on your neck and leave your body and take his own form and let you cum on his cock, not your fingers.

“Can’t believe I managed to land such a filthy little thing.”

But you can’t. Won’t, really—you know you could end this whole thing with one snap of your fingers, but the burn of degradation and loss of control is too irresistible to turn away from. The heat in your gut is too intense to let go of now.

Your vision is starting to get blurry, from the crystal drops gathering at your waterline and the lack of oxygen, when the pressure is suddenly completely gone. A desperate sound is torn from your throat, the much-needed air rushing back into your lungs with a speed that leaves you dizzy, and it’s the final push necessary to make you topple over the edge.

Your body shakes as your pussy spasms around your fingers, hips uncontrollably bucking up into your hand and thighs quivering at the rush of endorphins coursing through your body. As much as you may try, however, all the cries you're straining to let out remain lodged deep in your chest, your boyfriend's curses ringing in your ears as you chase after the blinding pleasure.

"Ah—shit—" Chifuyu groans, and it hits you then, that he can feel your orgasm rushing through you, too; could feel the moment the knot of arousal burst and the all-consuming pleasure that currently runs through your veins. The knowledge forces you to tense even more around your fingers in an effort to prolong the pleasure for both you and your demon.

"Baby, loosen—hah—loosen up," he moans, the timbre filthy in your head. His control of your body slips away just enough for you to minutely shake your head.

“Just, fuck—”

He cuts himself off, and the next thing you know, you’re gasping out a cry as the feeling of otherness disappears from your body. Your eyes squeeze shut and your chest heaves at the sudden shock of gaining back control of yourself.

“Wh-what—” you whimper, sliding your eyes open to see the naked form of your boyfriend in all his devilish glory, “Chif—”

It’s all you’re able to get out before his lips crash on yours, a messy exchange of spit that could barely be classified as a kiss, his mouth greedily swallowing up your delicious whines.

“Missed these sounds,” he pants against your slick lips. A foreign touch on your thigh prompts a questioning sound from you, your hand moving down to caress a thin tail wrapping itself around your leg.

A sinful groan leaves the demon above you, and when he pulls away, his electric blue eyes deepen at your disheveled sight, a wicked grin taking over his features.

“We’re not done yet, baby.”

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

Headcanons on how deacon would react to sole (crush) nearly risking their life just to save his? I really love your writing!

i love this sm! i missed writing deacon so much! my writing might be rusty since it’s literally been months but i hope you enjoy. <3 sorry if this wasn’t that great, but my writing will get better again.

i’m assuming deacon is already far into the crush for him to panic in such a way, so here we go!

-

Deacon:

it’s his turning point. if he has a crush on sole, it instantly becomes a lot more difficult to cope with, fearing that he may lose another person he’s beginning to care for.

there were times where he’s told himself he’s ready for the idea of death, not caring if the world took him away at any point of the day. but when he experiences a moment where death is the closest it’ll ever get to him, he feels a sense of fear. fear that he hasn’t done enough before his time was up, that he hadn’t made barbara proud, but most of all- leaving sole alone in that cruel world.

he closed his eyes, waiting for a sharp pain to blossom or darkness to consume his vision, but is instead greeted with another gunshot echo and the sound of a familiar voice cry in pain. his eyes immediately shoot open at the sound and he feels his stomach drop.

his mind goes blank at the sight of sole falling to the ground and time slows down for just a moment as he registers the scene in front of him. once it does, he panics and immediately stumbles on his feet as he rushes over to sole, hands hovering them in attempt to help in any kind of way.

tears begin to well up in his eyes as he notices the blood trailing from their temple down their face and he automatically cradles them in his arms as he tries to wake them up.

“no, no, sole. you fucking-“ his voice begins to crack as their eyes refuse to open despite his futile attempts to shake or slap them awake, “y-you better wake up. this isn’t funny anymore, i- if this is a joke, i swear-“

when he realizes he’s counting on borrowed time, he carries sole off the ground and uses whatever’s left of his energy to bring them to the nearest area to fetch help.

when he does receive help, he nearly begs the settlers to do anything they can to keep them alive. he’s willing to spend as much caps as he can just to ensure their safety and see them one more time.

deacon doesn’t realize how weak he is until his knees nearly give out after they take sole away and finds himself leaning on the wall for support as he tries to catch his breath. despite him being exhausted, his worry keeps him awake as he anxiously awaits for some kind of news from anyone at that point.

he doesn’t know how many laps he’s done in the waiting room or how long he’s been tapping his foot against the wooden floor, but he’s about ready to break the door down to see them as his patience grows terribly low.

when the person tending to sole does appear around the corner, he immediately makes his way to them and demands an answer of some sort. when they do inform him of their condition and that they’re still alive and well, he feels a weight being lifted off of his shoulders and rushes inside to see them, regardless of what they say.

when the door closes and he’s left alone with sole, who remained unconscious, the rising and falling of their chest being the only signal that they’re still there with him, he breaks down. all the tears and emotions he’s suppressed for hours all escape his barriers and apologizes to sole, even if they can’t hear what he’s saying. as he sits besides their bed, his hand finds their way on to soles own and holds it as he breaks down into the man he refused to be for years.

when his tears subside and his throat hurts from all the crying, he lets out a deep breath and tries to pull himself together. with his thumb brushing gently against their knuckles, he silently promises himself to not take advantage of whatever he has left in his life and makes it his priority to be by their side whether sole wants him or not.

deacon attempts to steady himself enough to greet sole with a joke or two whenever they’re awake, wanting to alleviate their pain in some way. deep down, he knows it’ll take a while to truly take his mind off of it.

he may be distant at first due to his feelings getting tangled but they’ll notice his off behavior and will eventually have to confront deacon about it one way or the other. after a while, all his previous actions of avoiding them due to his crush will automatically disappear as he attempts to actually cooperate with his feelings instead of running away from it.

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 3: I like girls that dance

summary: It’s your first night out and your first real introduction to Westheath. Rafe is quick to find his way on your radar.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 4.6k

a/n: the way I’m imagining Jack Harlow as I write Liam 😩✋also, im pulling these chapter titles out of my ass - but actually tho, go listen to Girls That Dance by Masego 

Part 1 Part 2

Despite your doubts, you put on the sheer top and the black mini skirt Millie and Olivia had insisted you wear. Your favorite pregame playlist plays as you do your makeup in the mirror. You move as quickly as you can, in desperate need of a shot to calm your nerves before your flat fills with people. You’re also nervous about seeing Rafe after that encounter in the kitchen you just had. 

As you run your fingers through your hair and put on your earrings, all you can see is his stupid (and annoyingly attractive) face, staring down at you with that dumb backwards cap, telling you that you guys should watch Game of Thrones together. Every time your mind starts to think if that means something, you quickly shut down the thought. Of course it doesn’t mean anything. Just because a boy wants to watch a show with you does not automatically mean he wants you or that this was going to turn into some kind of Netflix and chill situation. Or was this gonna be a Netflix and chill situation? I mean it was Rafe Cameron after all, the boy certainly had a reputation. But then again, hadn’t he just showed you that he’s different from what you had expected? Oh god this was all too much to think about right now, you needed a shot. Stat. 

“Y/N!” Olivia shouts, swinging the door to your room open right on cue. “Oh. My. God. You look so hot!” she exclaims. “Here, this is for you,” she extends a shot glass toward you with a devilish grin. 

“Oh god what is it,” you grimace. Shots always seemed like a better idea in theory than in practice. 

“Try it and find out,” she smirks. You sigh and send the liquid to the back of your throat, immediately cringing at the sting of raspberry vodka, Olivia bringing a cup of cranberry juice to your mouth to chase. 

“Don’t worry love, a few more and you won’t even taste it. Now come on,” she laughs, dragging you with her to the kitchen. The rest of your flatmates are already there, Millie bopping along to the music, giggling at whatever Topper is saying, Rafe standing close by sipping his drink. 

“Y/n you hottie!” Millie cheers, looking up as you make your way into the kitchen. You pray to god your cheeks aren’t turning pink. You don’t dare turn your head, but you know Rafe is staring at you. If you looked at him now you’d be crimson for sure. 

“Alright everybodyyy,” Olivia begins, pouring the same raspberry vodka into the five shot glasses she has lined up on the table. You can’t help but laugh at her infectious energy, this girl is nothing if not the life of the party. 

“Cheers to our first night out as flat mates! Wooo!!!” she exclaims, as everyone grabs a shot glass from the table, Rafe instinctively passing you one, hands briefly touching during the exchange and again as you all clink your glasses. You down the contents, unsure if the heat forming in your chest is from the vodka or the feeling of Rafe’s passing touch. 

Pretty soon people start to arrive, Olivia and Millie making sure to introduce everyone. The flat becomes a blur of bodies drinking, dancing, and mingling about, and somehow, despite it all, Rafe Cameron is the person you find yourself standing with. There was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t quite understand, but it kept drawing you near. 

“What are you drinking tonight Cameron,” you nod at the cup in his hand.

“Jack and coke. Of course,” he scoffs with subtle sarcasm, which you instantly pick up on. 

“Not straight whiskey? Wow. That’s not very Figure 8 of you,” you admonish playfully.

“Straight whiskey? L/n who do you think I am?” he twists his face in mock disbelief. “But I’m game to do a shot if you are,” he adds.

“Hmm that does-“ you begin, but you’re quickly cutoff. 

“Y/n, babe, if I had known you’d be here I would’ve came sooner,” Liam greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a cheeky smile. 

“Now how on earth do you two know each other,” Millie asks, walking in line with the boy.

“Umm,” you chuckle nervously. You could not have possibly felt more awkward at the conversation unfolding in front of you, Rafe standing by as witness to it all. “He’s that boy I went to the bar with the other night,” you explain sheepishly.

“That was Liam!? Chrissake. Well I apologize on his behalf for anything he said or did.”

“Hey I’ll have you know I’m a proper gentleman!” he defends, throwing you a wink as Millie rolls her eyes. Just at that moment, another group of people walk in through the door, conveniently coming to Rafe’s rescue.

“Rafe!” a girl calls and he clears his throat excusing himself, Millie following suit to greet the latest batch of guests. You watch as he leans in for a hug with the girl who’s just called his name. She’s twirling her hair and batting her eyes, confident, flirty, gorgeous - just his type. A sick feeling pools in your stomach, you don’t even realize you’re staring. 

“Lily Colts, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Liam informs you as he takes the now empty spot next to you.

“Oh, um no, I was just uh-“

“It’s okay Y/n, I get it. So flatmate huh” he laughs, unbothered.

“No no it’s not like that at all I uh-”

“Alright. Y/n,” he says, jumping up to sit on the counter behind him, cracking open the can in his hand. “You know I think you’re hot and you know I like messing with you-”

“Actually I know neither of those things,” you reply indignantly. 

“Yes you do, you’re not dim,” he bulldozes right on, “I can read people pretty well, and there was a vibe there.”

“A vibe?”

“Yeah. Between you and what’s-his-face. You should’ve seen the way he tensed up when I came up to you,” he snickers in amusement.

“Shut up. His name is Rafe, by the way, and there was no ‘vibe.’ Also why are you even telling me this?” you ask, growing frustrated with the cocky brunette.

“Y/n please,” he scoffs. “I told you I can read people, so let me read you. You’re out here in London right, far away from home, keen for a fresh start. You’ve never been one for meaningless flings, but fuck it, if everyone else can do it, why not you? Or so you try to convince yourself, but you know that’s not you. See, you crave that emotional connection, and when you find even a hint of it, you’re a goner. Which is why you’d never actually hook up with me and it’s why you’re staring at that boy from home even though you swear you don’t care, but you do - you feel something there.”

You’re dumbfounded by his ability to know things about you that even you yourself can’t recognize. “I liked it better when you were just flirting with me,” you grumble.  

“No worries darling, I’ll definitely still do that. I’ll even dance on you in the club if you ask nicely, might make pretty boy over there jealous,” he motions with his eyes toward Rafe, at which you give his shoulder a shove.

“You’re an idiot you know, Millie was right on the money with that,” you quip, as the two of you head over to her, Liv, and the boys.

“Please, Millie wishes she could be right on something else,” he says as you shoot him a glare, trying your best to suppress a laugh. Liam was starting to become a pain in your ass, too smart for his own good, but at least he was a funny one.

—

Your first night clubbing was going great. The place was packed, the music was good, and you were having a blast dancing with Liv, Millie, and their friends. You couldn’t help looking around the club though, eyes scanning for Rafe in the crowd. He’d been hanging out all night with Topper and some of the guys from their new soccer team. You longed to be near him somehow, to interact with him again. All your conversations with him earlier today had left you with an excited buzz - you didn’t know what it was about this version of Rafe Cameron in London, but you were actually enjoying his company.

You try to push him out of your mind and just enjoy the moment. It’s not like there was anything between you and Rafe, you had just barely began to form a semblance of a potential friendship today, let’s not get carried away. Besides, you live with the boy, accidentally running into him wasn’t going to be much of a challenge. 

“Anyone want anything from the bar?” you shout over the music to your friends.

“Vodka soda with lime please!” Olivia shouts back and you nod, turning to make your way to the counter a few feet away. You place your order and mindlessly tap your fingers on the bar as a figure appears beside you.

“Hey, Y/n right? Flatmates with Olivia, Mills, and the boys?” the girl asks, and you turn, now face to face with Lily. 

“Uh yeah, hey,” you feign a smile back. 

“I’m Lily, nice to meet you,” she smiles genuinely. “I’m friends with all the Westheath bozos you’ve probably been meeting tonight,” she laughs, “Callum and Henry over there are my best mates. They’re on the football team with Rafe and Topper, we were showing them around earlier. My god you guys have been hoarding some cute ones over there in America.”

You chuckle, “glad that Kildare’s presence can at least be of some benefit.” 

“So, girl to girl here, what can you tell me about Rafe Cameron? He’s such a hottie isn’t he? Would love to get a taste of that,” she smirks, licking her lips.

“Umm I don’t really have much to tell,” you say, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. You could tell her what you thought you knew of Outer Banks Rafe - he’s a rich, party-boy player. But after today, that no longer felt right. You didn’t want to say or presume anything about him at all actually, it felt wrong to talk about him like that. God, what the hell was wrong with you? You spend a few hours with the boy and you already have a soft spot for him? You needed to get a grip. “Our families know each other but we don’t really hang out at home. He’s uh- he’s cool though,” you decide as a sufficient response.

“Any girl friend?” she asks, sliding cash over to the bartender as she orders a shot.

“Rafe’s not really the ‘girlfriend-type’,” you answer, bartender sliding you the drinks you ordered and Lily her’s. 

“Well then cheers to that,” she grins, clinking her shot glass to your drink before she downs it, waving a quick goodbye. You watch as she makes her way back to Rafe and their group, adorning a flirty smile. You feel sick to your stomach. You wanted to hate her, you did. But you couldn’t. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just confident, outgoing, and not afraid to go after what she wanted. There was nothing for you to be angry about, who was stopping you from doing the same?

 But in the back of your mind you decided you could never go after Rafe like that. He would never be interested in you in that way, you were sure of it. You had a hard time believing your friends when they hyped you up, so you definitely weren’t going to believe for a single second that a boy you thought was cool could possibly look at you in the same way. Besides, the mere idea of being rejected by Rafe Cameron, and then having to continue living with him and eventually go back to the Outer Banks for everyone to find out you had been rejected by the kook prince, was so mortifying that the very thought made you want to crawl into a hole. So you promise yourself, right then and there, that you won’t let yourself get hurt like that. You could hang out with Rafe, get to know him, become friends even, but under no circumstances could you be caught wearing your heart on your sleeve. You couldn’t disarm yourself like that and give him the upper hand. You needed to look out for yourself first and foremost, preserving the little bit of control you still had over your life. 

You walk back over to your friends, slipping Liv her drink as her and Jake dance together. Your new friends are all tipsy and in a world of their own, getting lost in the music and their movements.

“Dance with me,” you turn to Liam who’s right beside you.

“I said if you ask nicely,” he admonishes sarcastically, to which you roll your eyes.

“I’m not gonna beg Liam. You wanna dance or not?”

“Sheesh, Lily Colts got your panties in a twist like that?”

“Not. At. All.” You confidently stare into his eyes, sipping your drink. It’s no use, Liam knows you all too well by now, and you curse yourself for the way in which this boy is able to see right through all the walls you put up. You may think these walls are made of brick, but to Liam they’re glass.

He just laughs at you, shaking his head in amusement. He grabs your free hand and pulls you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together. He takes your hand and rests it on the back of his neck, his finding their way to your hips. He plants his leg in between yours and soon you guys are lost in the rhythm. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second. He spins you around and you lightly grind your ass against him.

“Damn Y/n, I didn’t know you move like that,” he jokes, as you face forward again. He leans in, his hand on the small of your back, and you feel his breath right against your ear, “he’s looking by the way.” Your breath hitches, but you know better than to turn around. Liam is already one step ahead of you, instinctively twirling you again so you can quickly catch a glimpse of Rafe’s eyes on yours without it being obvious. “Told you he’d be jealous,” he smirks down at you triumphantly.

“Shut up,” you reply, the slightest smile tugging at your lips as your sweaty bodies continue to move to the music.

—-

“Aw flatmate bonding you guysss,” Olivia gushes, as you all sit together at a booth. She had forced you all out of your beds this morning to get breakfast together. Despite being hungover and groggy, you all reluctantly agreed. “Mimosas anyone?” she jokes.

“If I so much as smell any alcohol I think I’ll vomit,” Topper groans.

“Aw, what’s the matter, can’t handle your liquor Tops?” Millie asks, quirking her head to the side.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Could ask you the same question. My room is right next to the bathroom, don’t think I didn’t hear your retching last night,” he snaps back, to which Millie turns bright red and soon you’re all hunched over in laughter.

“I think a mimosa would make me yak right now too, to be fair. Coffees all around!” Olivia asserts.

You’re seated across from Rafe as you both scan your menus, your eyes immediately fixing in on the pancakes. The waiter comes by to take all your orders and you can’t help but blush a little when Rafe orders pancakes and you have to follow with a “same for me.” Such a silly, meaningless thing, I mean everyone likes pancakes. But being the only one to have the same exact order as Rafe leaves you feeling embarrassed, for no good reason all the same. You all begin to scarf down your food as soon as it arrives, thankful to have something to soak up the alcohol in your stomachs, as you share stories and laugh about last night’s drunken antics. 

“So how is it that we’re all flatmates and yet I only have Topper’s contact. Come on, add ‘em in,” Rafe says, sliding his unlocked phone to the middle of the table.

“Wait I want snapchats too. Oooh! And instagram!” Olivia pipes, whipping out her phone as well.

“I expect no booty calls Cameron. This is strictly business,” Millie jokes, typing in her and Olivia’s numbers before passing his phone to you. 

“Am I allowed a booty call?” Topper smirks, extending his phone as well.

“I wouldn’t push your luck Thornton,” she smirks back and he pouts in response. You finish typing your name and number into Rafe’s phone and hand it back to him, skin briefly making contact once again. Even though you had known Rafe all your life, somehow you two never had a reason to exchange numbers, only following each other on Instagram which he never posted on anyways.

“Alright everyone, pull up your snapchat codes, I wanna make a group,” Olivia says and everyone obliges, arms crossing every which way as you all add each other. “What should we name our group chat? Ooo can we do a ship name of our schools - like Kilheath or Westare?” 

“I like Kilheath,” Topper chimes in.

“Yeah I bet you do you psychopath. Sounds like the name of a bad horror movie,” Rafe laughs.

“Oooo there’s five of us, we could be the Spice Girls,” Millie beams.

“No.” Topper immediately shuts her down. 

“What about ‘American Boys and Spice Girls.’ You know, like the Kanye West song,” you add.

“Ehh, we’re getting closer, but not quite there,” Rafe teases you and you playfully kick him under the table. “I’m hearing a lot of opinions and not a lot of contributions,” you cross your arms and raise your brows.

“Hey hey hey, I’m a critic, not a chef L/n,” he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Ooo I got it! We can call it the ‘Royal fam,’ like the royal family,” Olivia suggests, finally getting approval from the whole group. Breakfast is soon over and you all return to your rooms, eager to nap away the remainder of your hangovers. You lay in your bed and stare at the newly formed snapchat group on your phone. Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 appears on top and you scroll down, looking at Rafe’s username and bitmoji on your screen. You laugh at the fact that even his bitmoji wears a backwards cap. It was weird, having him in your phone like this. You had known this boy your whole life, but you two had always operated in separate spheres. And here he was, in your Snapchat, a glimpse into the life of Rafe, of which you only ever got a birds eye view of back home. It almost felt like you were trespassing somewhere you didn’t belong, having access to him like this. You sigh and lock your phone. Rafe Cameron really isn’t all that bad.

—

The next few days fly by fast as you become acclimated to Westheath. You and the rest of the Kildare kids attend an orientation with Westheath’s exchange advisor, spending the whole time with your little trio: you, Rafe, and Topper. When you had first arrived abroad, you were deadset on forging your own path in London and steering clear of everyone else from OBX. But hanging out with Rafe and Topper made you all but forget. It was fun and easy hanging out with them, in fact, counterintuitively, they were helping you forget all about the Outer Banks, just as you had hoped to do. Your conversations centered around your interests, your new lives, on random jokes and made up bits. It was almost as if there was a mutual unspoken agreement between you, them also trying to escape and forget their lives in OBX.

Pretty soon classes began, and you were learning a new schedule and adapting to British schooling. Your evenings were spent singing and dancing in the kitchen as you, Liv, and Millie simultaneously cooked your dinners, getting pints at the pub around the corner with your Westheath friends, and playing card games at the kitchen table with Rafe and Topper, the smack talk between you three flowing strong. There’d be short moments where you’d find yourself alone with Rafe - he’d explain to you whatever Premier League team was playing that day, you’d show him how the coffee machine works, and the occasional passing comments of “so when are we finally starting Game of Thrones, Cameron?” “I’m ready whenever you are, L/n.”

—

It was a Wednesday night, and you were curled up in your fluffy gray blanket watching Gilmore Girls in bed. You found the show comforting and familiar, the small town of Stars Hallow reminding you of what you wished your life in the Outer Banks could be like. Instead it was more like the cold and pretentious atmosphere of Chilton and the older Gilmores’ Hartford life. Your phone buzzes, and you pick it up lazily to check, suddenly freezing at the notification on your screen.

Snapchat: Rafe Cameron

You had opened a few snapchats from the boy over the past few days, but they were always random ones he would send to the group chat. This one was just for you. You gulp and put your phone down, not wanting to open it too fast. A few minutes go by and you realize you haven’t paid an ounce of attention to the show on your screen, even though you’re staring right at it. Fuck it. You open your phone and tap on the unread snap.

When are we watching Game of Thrones L/n the snapchat says, a picture of his laptop on his bed and the HBO Max home page open, the series featured in the corner of the screen.

You snap back a picture of your blanket and the laptop playing Gilmore Girls in front of you: ready whenever you are Cameron.

Almost immediately you get a response back.

Rafe Cameron: wait are you home rn? His message is accompanied by a random picture of his room, a view you let your eyes linger on until the message expires. Another peak into Rafe Cameron’s world.

Y/n: Yep! You send a blurry selfie of you wrapped in your blanket.

Rafe Cameron: be over in 5

You leave that last message on open and your heart starts to race. Just breathe Y/n, breathe, you keep telling yourself. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t make it out to be. It’s just a show. Just a show. And besides, you guys are friends now, right? You sit up in your bed and grab your pillow, shifting over to sit horizontally on your mattress. That seems more casual to you, more ‘just a couple friends watching a show together at a comfortable distance’ and less ‘sitting right on top of each other Netflix and chill’. You gulp down some water to ease your dry throat when you hear a gentle knock.

“Come in!” you call out, and now Rafe Cameron is in your room, eyes absorbing all the details that are so you. The posters on one wall, film camera photos on another. The string lights which wrap around your room and give it a warm glow. The plants, the subtle scent of vanilla. The bag you always carried with you, hanging off the side of your chair. He almost felt like he was intruding, like he was getting an intimate glimpse of something that was for your eyes only. 

“Whats up,” he says, holding his laptop and closing the door behind him. 

“Ready to finally start the show,” you laugh, “it’s about damn time.”

“Hey, I’ve been ready, it’s you who’s been taking your sweet time.”

“Is that so?” you ask sarcastically and a smile forms on his face.

“What are you doing over there? Who sits like that on their bed?” he asks, now coming over and taking a seat on your mattress facing vertically, propping your other pillow behind his back. “Can’t even stretch out your legs or anything,” he continues, patting the spot on the bed next to him, signaling for you to come over.

“I don’t know, I think it’s comfy,” you lie as you crawl over to him, your first line of defense already shot down. 

“Weirdo,” he chuckles to which you nudge him in the side with your elbow. “If Topper’s wrong about this I’m gonna give him so much shit,” he says.

“Topper does have a lot of questionable opinions,” you laugh, “but I have a good feeling about this one.

—

One episode turned into two turned into three, you and Rafe instantly hooked. The nerves you had felt earlier at sitting so close next to this boy in your bed had all but dissipated, you quickly acclimating to the space he took up next to you. Even though by now all your previous misconceptions about Rafe had disappeared, replaced with the boy you had come to know over the past week, there was a small part of you that was still waiting to see if he’d try to pull something on you, like the Rafe you imagined back home surely would. Of course he didn’t, watching and discussing the show with you, making you feel as comfortable as if you two had been friends for years. You almost felt bad for having had doubted him in the first place.

When the third episode ended and you two got into a long post-episode discussion, you hardly noticed when the conversation began to digress. You both started to sink lower and lower down into your pillows, until you were both laying on your backs, staring at the ceiling and lost in exchanges of words and thoughts. The conversation was different this time, more candid and open, as if the shadow of the night was inviting you to divulge thoughts you wouldn’t have shared in the day. He spoke of his strained relationship with his father and you shared the silly drama that had caused a riff between you and your former friends back home. He showed you pictures of his dog and you showed him the video you had been working on all summer long in OBX, not having anyone to hang out with before you left for London. He talked about how he felt so disconnected from almost everyone on that island, and you nodded, understanding all too well. The conversation continued to ebb and flow, the occasional funny video or meme pulling you two into fits of laughter before seamlessly delving into another vulnerable train of thought. You both had your Spotify accounts open now, taking turns sharing your favorite songs. You put on a playlist you had made over the summer, full of songs that made you feel at peace. 

“This puts you at ease huh,” he says.

You turn your head to look at him, “how could you tell?”

“I don’t know. I guess just the way your whole body relaxed the second you pressed play,” he replies.

“Yeah,” you say turning your head back toward the ceiling. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I feel like these songs are speaking to my soul or something,” you whisper.

“Yeah I get that… I have those too,” he whispers back. Neither of you realize it’s already 5 am and neither of you notice as your eyes both get heavy and sleep washes over you, playlist in the background like a lullaby. And at some point during your deep sleep, Rafe’s arm has found itself unconsciously wrapped around you.

---

Part 4

a/n: lemme know what you think!(: