#going on tags !!!!! I need to be cringe loudly

[fakesorbet]

smth smth whitney talks about evan All the time but his friends still don’t know who evan is . whitney doesn’t tell them abt the magic school , how hes seen evan hurt people through the magic they’re fascinated by , how exhausted he is by magic , how much sacrifice it takes to have it , and how it’s ruined the lives of people he cares abt . Smth smth

[ohproserpine]

v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed as she stormed toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. With a forceful slam of her hands against the table, it shifted forward, jolting the items on its surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he had spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, muttering under his breath, "Have it your way."

"If I may," Vox spoke, wiping his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He tilted his head slightly, raising a single brow. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette mocked, her hands waving around in frustration. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

"Well, there's this performer," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she quipped.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox hummed, sliding the screen over to Velvette. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she uttered the name slowly, her lips dripping with venom. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox drawled, gesturing toward the screen. With a tap of his claw on the screen, he zoomed in closer. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

"Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?" Vox spoke with a smirk playing on his lips.

Velvette shot him a knowing glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use some of your charm."

.

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, the words amplified by hissing static, demanding attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you. Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards sending a shiver through your bare skin. You picked up the radio, its incessant blare akin to an annoying alarm clock, with Alastor's voice still grating on your nerves.

"Alright. Alright. I'm up, love," you grumbled, rubbing at your eyes which still felt thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you returned, laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

"As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you sighed, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "But where ever would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

Back in his hotel room, Alastor chuckled to himself as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water.

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its boxy form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. Soon enough, the needle gently descended onto the spinning vinyl record, releasing a soft, nostalgic melody that filled the room.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

As Alastor began to sing along, his smooth voice seeping through the rusting speakers of the radio, you paused in the middle of washing your hair, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade.

"Stupid, stupid man," you muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. And yet, despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth creeping into your heart.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice still lingering in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the fleeting illusion of domestic bliss for a moment longer.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you spoke into the radio, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's ears perked up and caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Mimzy," you greeted flatly, acknowledging her with a nod.

"How are ya doin', doll? Just the person I was looking for," she purred with a bat of her eyes. "Alright, listen, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's "reputation" and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, tapping her finger along her chin, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. The blonde wasn't exactly known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you grinned tensely, hands at your hips. There was bound to be a switch somewhere.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy giggled as she threw up her hands with a flourish.

And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Miss Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Hell, why don't you take the morning off?" Mimzy grinned as she hurried off down the hallway to make preparations. "I'll see you tonight! Make sure to be here by sunset!"

Standing by the stairs as stiff as a pole, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Looks like a ciggy is in order," you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your throbbing temples. Making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took.

No one spared you a glance as you passed; the citizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape. 

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together.

With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—nicotine.

Fingers fumbling through the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

Dropping your head into your hands with a scowl, you could feel the stress mounting within you, bubbling up like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Wallowing in your misfortune, you failed to notice someone approaching you from behind. A sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with a tall and slender spider-like demon. His frame was practically drowning in a plush white fur coat, the color almost blending into his skin. It contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress clinging onto his curves underneath.

"Need a light?" he asked casually as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust ignited the lighter, the flame pirouetting gracefully and flickering in the wind. Drawing closer, you leaned in, offering the tip of your cigarette to the flame. With a gentle hiss, the tobacco caught fire, wisps of smoke curling into the air like ethereal dancers. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the saccharine poison of the smoke flooded your lungs, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. Shutting your eyes, a sense of calm washed over you as you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

Remembering you had company, you grounded yourself and opened your eyes. "Thank you ever so much, dear. Can I have your name?" you asked, tilting your head up at him. The stranger moved to sit down next to you, the worn wood of the bench creaking under his weight.

"Angel Dust," he said, and your eyes shot wide open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

"The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," Angel laughed heartily as his grin widened from ear to ear in response, his golden tooth gleaming at you like a wink.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking a drag from your cigarette, you gestured with it casually. "I saw you in my husb—erm, the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

His confession caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a grimace crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Let's just say... word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit..."

"A pompous dick with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a blow."

"Just needed some fresh air," you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he raked his eyes over your worn-out form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage days ago.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he piped up, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you cooed, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, stretching out on the bench, spreading both his arms across the back of the wood. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. I mean—ya had the crowd eating out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you bowed your head in gratitude, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, lips jutting out in a playful pout.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he grinned with a shrug. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you surrendered to the comfort of the moment, finding solace in the presence of your spider companion. Hours passed, and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon,  painting the park in hues of golden warmth.

A jarring ringtone shattered the moment, causing Angel Dust to glance down at his phone with a whistle. His brows furrowed as he scrolled through a flurry of notifications, irritation flashing across his features.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little chat, duty calls," he sighed, flicking away ash from his cigarette. "Can't keep the boss waiting."

You nodded in understanding, offering a wave as he rose from the bench. "No worries, Angel. Catch you later."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the city streets, leaving you to enjoy the peace alone. After a few minutes of watching the sunset, you decided it was time to go. You stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, making your way out.

As you approached the streets leading to the lounge, the neon lights of the city burst into life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Climbing the stairs to the entrance, you were enveloped by the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. And with a last scan to ensure she wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, you made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to ready yourself for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A sudden knock broke your routine, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, you swung it open, revealing an imp demon. White blotches adorned his skin, and he sported sunglasses perched high up on his nose. In his hands, he held up a box, his expression expectant as he waited for your reaction.

"May I help you?" you murmured, tilting your head at him, curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Interest piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. With a gentle touch, you ran your fingers along the surface and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled amidst folds of satin lay a pearl necklace, the orbs gleaming as if moonlight itself was captured and trapped within. At its heart, a rose pendant bloomed, its petals of silver. 

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…"

With a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you delicately lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon, feeling the cool weight of the pearls in your palm. As you draped it around your neck, the pendant nestled against your collarbone.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart fluttering with excitement. With a skip in your step, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Alarm flashed across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

Two ominous figures cast dark shadows amidst the panicked frenzy of staff and customers.

Struggling to discern the figures amidst the chaos, you squinted, trying to make out the details. One of them was a slender demon, dressed immaculately, with cedar-brown skin and long, fiery red curls tied into neat pigtails.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you recognized her as one of Hell's infamous overlords. Your heart plummeted further as you caught sight of Mimzy, ensnared in Velvette's vice-like grip, fear twisting her features as she struggled against her captor.

But it was the presence of the figure behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

The TV Demon, Vox.

His gaze swept over the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence. Suddenly, his icy eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place.

"Mimzy, dear," Vox's voice buzzed with deceptive sweetness as he addressed the shaking blonde. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our... conditions?"

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Make it quick," Velvette scoffed, releasing her grip on Mimzy's throat. The blonde stumbled toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, panic evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, leaning down to her height and shaking her by the arms.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with them," Mimzy decided abruptly.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice turning breathless with disbelief.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her tone grave yet determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" your voice rose to a shout as you began to shake her again, nails digging into the chiffon of her glove. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

"I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" Mimzy defended herself, her tone devoid of remorse. "Do you have any idea how much work it took for me to get this place running?!"

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy shook her arms away from your grip and pushed herself off the door. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him, you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back, your voice rising with anger. Your eyes blazed with fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and broken, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, and as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth. "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice trembling as she locked eyes with your hollow gaze. "Until you get it through your fucking thick, cracked skull!"

The blonde's hand darted to a nearby object, seizing hold of a picture frame within reach. With sudden, fierce motion, she swung it, the weighty wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

"Mph—!" Biting your lip to stifle a scream, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with anger. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

.

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating. 

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually neat hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he scooped you up into his arms, expression turning tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Your husband moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood stained your body, your skin clammy and pale. Streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs twitched involuntarily. The taste of whiskey still lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his pupils dilating with anger as he knelt before you, gently slipping your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, curling into yourself, the weight of it all feeling too heavy on your shoulders.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, rubbing circles into your ankle with his thumb. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, raining blows upon you with a fury that bordered on madness, beating you with an inch of your life. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Her demeanor shifted drastically, morphing from a raging storm into a gentle breeze. With a sickening sweetness, she offered you a hand up, as if nothing had happened. Weak and disoriented, you allowed her to lead you to her private bar, where she poured drink after drink, urging you to indulge.

As per habit, you found yourself consuming the alcohol with reckless abandon, the burning liquid dulling the pain and blurring the edges of reality

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening with a mixture of concern and simmering anger. Slowly, he rose from his seat and lifted you onto his lap, cradling you gently in his arms.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "She won't ever bother you again."

The tenderness in his voice caused your breath to hitch, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to fall into the reassurance of his presence. It offered a fleeting sense of security amidst everything surrounding you. Yet, slowly as the puzzles fell into pieces, a gnawing sense of dread clawed at your insides.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, withdrawing your hands and pressing them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling fingers. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile remained unchanged—comforting yet chilling—as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul. You knew Alastor's devotion knew no bounds. Whether it meant causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest corners of his being, he would do it for you without a moment's hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took you a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

.

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her voice trembling with anger as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid, her fingers curling into fists.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've ever achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. The poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door startled Mimzy, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?" 

Under Vox's gaze, Mimzy's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to you with a wave of his hand. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he smiled, voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you up close."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you like candy to his eyes. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, shrinking back deeper against the wall. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you.

Pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, pouting slightly in a frown. Damp, glossy curls framed your face, shimmering in the light and tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through them. Rivulets of blood marred your temple, staining the delicate white flowers nestled into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a look in his eyes that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy's words shattered the heavy silence, her voice trembling with desperation as she nodded frantically. Her eyes remained nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her, the fear in her gaze mirroring your own.

With a clap of his hands, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet materialized and floated before you, its screen pulsing with a faint, golden glow.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," Vox instructed, his voice carrying an air of finality as he handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You attempted to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's grin widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

[chibinasuu]

Law x Reader ― sick day; stargazing

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― @splicer13vex tags: sfw, fluff, GN!Reader, no use of y/n, cw vomiting, some platonic heart pirates x reader, not part of the request but what the hell let’s throw in some accidental confession in here too as a xmas gift

“How are you feeling?”

Your Captain's voice was the first thing you heard when you regained consciousness.

You were shivering, your head was pounding, and your stomach churned unsettlingly. You had not felt this bad in ages. 

“Terrible,” you croaked out weakly.  

“Good.” Law said in a deadpan voice, “Serves you right for being stupid.”

You cringed, preparing yourself for the impending scolding from the Captain and Doctor of the Heart Pirates. 

He took a deep breath, “What were you thinking?” 

Here we go. 

“You should know better than to touch and smell some suspicious, unknown plant on an island we barely knew anything about.” 

“In my defense, the flower was very pretty.”

He groaned exasperatedly, “Many poisonous things are!”

“I’m sorry.” You sighed, “I now realize how stupid that was.” 

“Why did you do it anyway?”

“I wanted to show it to you.” You shrugged, “I just thought you’d find it interesting.”

His eyes softened, his frustration melting away at your earnest response. For the record, he did find the flower interesting. In fact, he even went back to retrieve some samples – using proper protective gear, of course – once he made sure you were alright. He wouldn't admit that to you, though, not wanting to justify your reckless actions.

You suddenly felt your stomach lurch, and Law immediately grabbed a bucket, just in time for you to retch your guts out. 

“Let it all out,” Law said, rubbing gentle circles on your back, “I managed to extract most of the poison with my powers, but some traces may still be in your bloodstream.” 

You grimaced at the feel of acid burning your throat. Law handed you a glass of water, which you gulped down greedily. 

“Here, take this.” He handed you a pill, “Should help with the nausea.”

“Thanks.”

You laid back down on the bed once you’d taken the medicine, pulling the blanket tight around your shivering body. The Polar Tang must have been underwater, judging by the chill inside the sub. You wondered how long you were out. 

“I need to discuss our next course with Bepo,” said Law as he touched the back of his hand to your forehead, nodding satisfactorily when he detected no fever.

“You’re on bed rest until tomorrow.” He pointed his index finger at you, “Stay. Put. No funny business, you hear me?”

You nodded.

“Say it out loud.”

You rolled your eyes, “Aye, aye, doctor. No funny business, I promise.”

“Good.” He patted your head once before walking toward the door that led to the hallway. He looked back at you just before he exited, “Try to get some sleep.”

Your mood instantly dropped at Law’s absence – suddenly all of your symptoms felt ten times worse without him there to distract you. 

You heeded Law’s words and tried to get some rest, but sleep eluded you. After around half an hour of you just tossing and turning in bed, the door suddenly swung open, and you brightened at the sight of a fluffy, white head popping in from behind it.

“Hi, sorry!” Bepo tiptoed quietly into the room, “Am I bothering you? Sorry, I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m feeling a bit better now that you’re here.” You chuckled, “And stop saying sorry, you’re not bothering me.”

“Sorry.” The mink automatically replied, before realizing what he said, “Ah, sorr–“

He chose to just shut his mouth after that.

“You came at the right time actually – I was just about to lose my mind from boredom.” You sighed, “I need some fresh air. I think that would help a bit with the nausea.”

Bepo dragged a chair and sat down next to your bed, “Oh, we’re just about to surface actually. We’re in the open ocean now, so–“

He gasped loudly and covered his mouth with his large paws, “I’m sorry! Please forget that!”

You grinned at the prospect of getting out of here and inhaling some much-needed ocean breeze.

“Oh, Captain’s gonna kill me!” The polar bear looked at you with his big, round, glistening eyes, “Sorry, I know you wanted to go out, but will you please just stay in the sick bay?”

You melted at his cuteness, patting his soft paw reassuringly, “Okay, I will. Don’t worry!”

He sighed in relief and got up, “Oh, great. I’m gonna help prepare the sub for resurfacing now. Please don’t go anywhere and get some rest!”

Once the Polar Tang successfully rose to sea level, Penguin came by with some soup, bringing over his own dinner to keep you company while you ate. 

He didn’t tell you, but you had a feeling he was also under strict orders from Law to make sure that you properly consumed every single drop of that soup.

The clear broth was hearty, warm, and delicious, but you still struggled to keep it down as the remnants of the poison wreaked havoc on your stomach.

Your promise to stay put in the sick bay lasted only about two hours after that. 

Once it was lights-out time, you crept through the dark hallway, heading towards the main door leading to the outside of the submarine. 

You cringed as the wheel creaked slightly when you turned it, but all worries of getting busted sneaking out were forgotten as soon as the first rush of fresh air entered your lungs. 

You spread the blankets you brought from the sick bay on the deck, before sitting on top of it and leaning your head back against the railing.

The stars were out tonight and you looked up at them appreciatively, savoring the unobstructed view of the heavens that only a seafarer could observe.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t stay put.”

You whipped your head toward the sound of the familiar voice, smiling guiltily at the man leaning against the open door.

“Sorry.” You said, not really sounding apologetic at all, “It was getting stuffy inside.”

The reprimand you expected from him never came, and instead, Law just sat down next to you with a sigh. 

He was silent, eyes trained toward the stars. 

You could tell that something was bothering him, but you stayed quiet, patiently waiting until he was ready to speak.

“I thought I was gonna lose you today.”

The vulnerability in his voice shook you, and you felt your heart race in anticipation of what he would say next. 

“You went to smell that damn flower and suddenly you just… collapsed, and I didn’t know what to do.”

He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, “Fuck, I’m a doctor and I froze. My mind went blank, my hands wouldn’t move. You should thank Shachi for snapping me out of it, by the way. There’s a reason why on some islands, doctors are not allowed to treat the people they lov–“

Your heart skipped a beat when he abruptly stopped, realizing that he was letting out more than he meant to. 

“What were you about to say?”

His lips stayed pressed together, and he brought one of his hands up to cover the redness spreading across his cheeks. 

“Law,” You took his hand away from his handsome face and tightly gripped it, “Please.”

“I… care about you, alright?” He finally admitted, face flushed and eyes firmly on the sky.

It wasn’t what he was initially about to unintentionally confess, but it was more than you ever hoped to hear from him.

“I know I’m your Captain, and you’re my subordinate. It was never my intention to… fall for you, but I did, and there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. Please feel free to just forget about it.”

You grabbed his face in between your hands, turning his head and letting him see your bright smile.

His eyes widened slightly as you pulled him in and pressed your lips tenderly against his. 

His surprise only lasted a second, and then he was kissing you back, and it was so much better than the million times this scene had played out in your daydreams.

The stars were the only witnesses as he held you impossibly close, melding your lips together in a slow, delicate dance. 

You sighed softly against his lips, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long, you have no idea.”

Law gave you one of his rare, genuine smiles, and your heart soared. Oh, the things you would give to see his smile every day.

He firmly gripped the back of your neck and brought you in for another kiss. 

Of course, your stomach chose that exact time to ruin the moment. 

You quickly stood up and leaned over the railing, purging the soup you ate back out from the way it went down. 

Law chuckled teasingly, “Should I be offended? Do I repulse you that much?”

“Shut up!” You whined, “You know it’s not like that!”

He rubbed your back soothingly as you finished emptying your stomach into the ocean below. His hand was pleasantly warm even through the fabric of your shirt. 

“C’mon,” he placed a gentle kiss on your temple, “Let’s get you back inside.” 

“Can we stay outside for a few more minutes?”

You looked at him with a pleading gaze until he relented and said, “Fine, five more minutes. But you need to layer up.”

He took off his jacket and put it on you, before taking one of the blankets and draping it on top of that.

You dragged him down to lay flat on the deck, and his arm immediately went underneath your head, pillowing it from the cold, hard surface. 

You two ended up staying out there for way more than five minutes.

You pointed out some of the familiar constellations that Bepo had taught you as you took comfort in the warmth of his body against yours. It wasn’t long until you felt your eyelids flickering close.

Law only smiled softly when he noticed your breathing slowed into a steady rhythm.

He gathered you in his arms – one arm under your legs and the other supporting your back – and carried you back into the submarine.

He could’ve just used his powers to “shambles” you both inside in a snap, but he found himself unable to resist holding you in his arms for even one second longer.

Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

a/n: happy holidays everyone!! and a very merry christmas to those who celebrate! 🎄 i hope this fic can be an acceptable christmas gift from me to all of you 🎁😘 this is my first time writing for law, and i hope i did him justice! i really wanted to get him right because he's such a dear character to me 🥺 also!! i'm opening up a taglist, so please fill out this form if you wanted to be tagged on my future uploads! thanks!

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[lizthewriter]

get him back! / theodore nott

PAIRING  theodore nott x fem!reader

SUMMARY  after playboy mattheo riddle dumps you for another girl, your best friend motivates you to get the best revenge - be the girl he would always want, but could never have. you take things to the extreme when theodore nott offers you a deal you can't say no to. PART 2 HERE

TAGS  theodore nott x fem!reader, past!mattheo riddle x fem!reader, modern!au, university!au, ginny is your best friend, fake dating, college parties, gluna / linny, part 2?

QUOTE  "yeah i pour my little heart out, / but as i'm hitting send, / i picture all the faces of my dissappointed friends, / because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do, / he said i was the only girl but that just wasn't the truth," - get him back! by olivia rodrigo

WORD COUNT 2.2K

WRITTEN  12.15.2023

hey, mattheo, how are you? i know it's been a while but i thought i'd -

No. What the hell are you doing? You hold the backspace, watching as the words you had just typed out disappeared. This was ridiculous - you couldn't keep doing this. Ginny would be so dissappointed in you. He had cheated on you, multiple times. He had spent all his time flirting with other girls. He lied to you and then his apologies were just fancy, elaborate gifts soaked in wealth and champagne. How could you still want him, need him, so viscerally?

"What are you doing?" You threw your phone over to your bed and turned around to face Ginny with a sickeningly-sweet grin.

"What? Nothing," you responded innocently. She narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion and made her way over to your bed, picking up your phone and glancing at the screen. You had forgotten to turn it off. Shit.

"Oh come on, seriously? Riddle? That douchebag?" She asked incredulously, sending you one of her famous looks of dissappointment. You got up and snatched your phone from her hand, only to crash on your bed.

"I know, I know," you responded with whine. "And I hate him too . . . but I miss him." You snatched one of your pillows and planted your face into it. The muffled scream was still louder than it ought to be, making Ginny cringe, but still rather satisfying. You let out a huff of breath. "I don't know what to do. I want to punch him in the face but at the same time . . . I want to kiss his stupid fucking face. That piece of shit."

You stared at his picture and let out a sigh. He was so damn complicated.

Ginny snatched your phone from you yet again. "All right, here's what we're going to do. We're going to come up with a plan to make Mattheo Riddle the most jealous man on the planet and in the process, find you someone new and much better. All right?"

You groaned. The thought of it sounded exhausted, but even you had to admit that there was a certain appeal to showing up at some party he was at, dressed to the nines, and bringing home another guy all while he watched. You sat up and stared at Ginny, before hesitantly saying, ". . . Go on."

-

"I know darling it's upsetting, darling, but . . . you're just not my kind of girl."

The words rang out in your head as you stood before a large mansion belonging to one of the many wealthy students at your campus. Cars were parked around the enormous driveway and the music from inside was booming so loudly that your could feel your bones vibrate with the beat.

Ginny slipped her arm through yours and flashed you one of her adventurous smiles. "Cheer up - you're going to be the prettiest girl they ever did see," Ginny said mockingly, pinching your cheeks. You barked out a laugh, playfully shoving her arm away.

"You sound like some posh grandma."

"But I'm your posh grandma," Ginny responded with a pout as you two began to climb the stone steps to the completely open front door. (I mean, seriously, who leaves the door to their house open? It's like they're asking to be robbed.)

The music steadily became louder upon approach, making it almost impossible to hear your own voice as you entered. The sleek wooden floors were bathed in a variety of disco lights, an odd contrast in comparison to the lovely home that looked like it belonged to some stuffy old Oxford professor.

"Hello ladies," said a jubilant man leaning against the doorframe leading to the foyer. He looked Ginny up and down before pushing himself off the wall and approaching Ginny. "Lovely to see you again." He sent a wink Ginny's way, which she responded to with a playful roll of her eyes. You finally recognized him - he was a sports major, friends with some of her older brothers. Lee, you remembered his name was. He was a flirt - he had tried with you once, when you were with Mattheo. It didn't end so well for him.

"I'm glad to see your nose is doing better, Jordan," you spoked with a friendly smile.

He pinched it and then looked down at his hand. "Good as new, I suppose, but there's still a scar on my heart," he claimed dramatically, walking wistfully away with the expression of a lovelorn, heartbroken lead in a Victorian drama. You and Ginny giggled and delved further into the lion's den. Numerous people greeted you, but especially Ginny (she had always been the popular one). A paticular boy, Harry, had his eye on her for quite some time. You wouldn't be one to say he was unattractive - he was fairly pretty. He was a Criminal Justice major and a pretty nice guy from your understanding. But you knew Ginny wasn't interested.

When Ginny stopped walking, you did too, as your arms were intertwined. You followed her line of sight and smirked at what - well, who - she was staring at. A wistfully odd girl with pale blonde hair down to her waist and an odd sort of dress adorning her body. People gave her odd looks, whispering to their friends. Why is she here? No one likes her.

You nudged Ginny multiple times to grab her attention once more. "Hey, you can go on without me. I'll be fine."

"What? No! I'm not abandoning you, you're my best friend and -"

"Go," you insisted. "I promise, I'll be fine."

She looked rather torn, glancing between the two of you before stomping her feet and letting out a groan. "I hate you," she whined.

"I hate you too," you responded with a grin. You turned her around, your hands on her shoulders, and pushed in her in the general direction of one eccentric Luna Lovegood. "Now go! Don't worry about me, we've been planning this for days!"

"Good luck!" She shouted at you before she disappeared into the sea of people. A few moments later, after much difficultly trying to see her, you saw her chatting up the girl. All right, my turn, you thought.

You scoured the room - you wouldn't say you were the most introverted person in the world, but you definitely weren't the most outgoing either. You needed to find someone who would really pull at Mattheo's nerves, make those prominent veins pop out of his head. You wanted him to feel the anger and the pain that you felt. You wanted to get him back!

There was no one on the bottom floor that caught your eye, so you climbed the stairs to where the more . . . elegant students were. (Rich, more like.)

They weren't anymore sophisticated than the people downstairs, but there was still that air of refinement that made you feel slightly out of place. You wandered around the many rooms for a bit before you found a kitchen (they had one upstairs and downstairs?) Grabbing a drink, you wandered around some more, making friendly conversations with some of your peers. As you were talking with Neville, a very kind boy from one of your general education courses, someone in paticular caught your eye and everything clicked.

Theodore Nott. He was the son to a rather rich Italian man, the CEO of one of the most well-known designer shoe brands in Europe. His mother died rather unfortunately of illness at a young age. He's been very prominent, especially in recent years. He's been a model for his father's company, he was in the top 5% of your class, and he's - well - he's known as the most handsome boy in your year.

You definitely weren't going to deny that - he was drop-dead gorgeous. His eyes were so . . . alluring. Dark and sexy, a pool of emotions shrouded by mystery. Okay, so maybe you were going far too overboard with your description of him, but for the love of God, was he attractive.

Somehow, he could feel your gaze upon him. He had been sitting on a couch, telling a story to a tight-knit group of friends, Mattheo included you noticed, that you had taken your eyes off of him. You felt embarrassed, pretended to look around the room, and then turned your attention back towards Neville with an encouraging smile that pretended that you had been listening to him rant all along.

"Excuse me," you heard Nott say, standing up from the couch. The champagne flute in his hand was rather empty so you deduced that he was probably going to go fill it. An educated guess, but an incorrect one. He did something you never expected. He approached you.

"Longbottom, I hear Greengrass has a question about a Geo-sci class you two share. She seemed rather distressed by it. I'm sure she'd appreciate your help," Theo told Neville - you glanced at Daphne Greengrass. She looked nowhere near distressed, but Neville perked up in excitement.

"R-really?" He asked nervously, wringing his hands. He gave you a sheepish smile. "Talk to you later, I've got to go help Daphne."

"Yeah, see you later Nev," you replied. Nott looked down at you for a moment before raising his glass.

"It seems we're both in need of a refill. Care to join me?" His expression was nothing more than emotionless, except perhaps the tiniest smirk that remained upon those rose-dusted lips. You shrugged nonchalantly, only just noticing the vacancy in your glass.

"Sure, why not?"

You followed a quite Theodore Nott to the kitchen again, where he poured himself champagne from a very specialized fridge unit filled with distinguished bottles of liquor - merlot and pinot noir and all those fancy alcohols you would have assumed people like him drank. He silently offered you some by tipping the bottle towards you. You offered him your glass, which he poured a fair amount in, not too much, not too little. Just right.

"I'm suprised to see you here."

You arched a brow in response as he took a light sip from the flute resting in a delicate balance between his two fingers. Precariously, a smile dained your face. "And why is that?"

"Your Riddle's ex-girl, aren't you?"

He asked in such a way that seemed as though he didn't care much at all.

The smile from your face disappeared, replaced by something much more bitter. You shrugged, but the action was much more passive-agressive than you had intended it to be. "So what? Does that mean something to you?"

He placed the flute down, the glass clinking against the marble countertop. "Riddle and I have a . . . complicated relationship."

"You mean, your dear old daddies are both relevant, rival shoe designers?" You said it so innocently. Nott smirked at you.

"Yeah, something like that. Listen," he leaned in close to you, leaning his arms against the counter in an attempt to lower himself to your level. He was rather lanky and tall, which you supposed was good for a model, but hard for when you want to actually talk to him. "You and I both want something from him."

"And what's that, Nott?" You asked with mock curiosity, placing your chin in the palm of your hands with a tilt of your head.

"Well, let's just say you didn't come here tonight, dressed like that, in the hopes that he would fuck you," he responded, quite bluntly. Well, you supposed that sort of honesty was an inherited trait. "Everyone knows what went down between you two - he aired out your dirty laundry for all to see. No, you came back here to get revenge."

"Astute," you said with a tone of disdain. Taking a sip of your champagne, you found that it actually had a much more delightful taste than any other alcohol you had. You smacked down the glass on the countertop. "Really, Nott, thanks for that." You began to leave but Theo grabbed you by the arm.

"Wait! Just . . . listen," he said, panting slightly. His brows were scrunchdd together in frustration - he seemed genuinely distressed. The only reason you stayed was because you realized something rather odd.

You turned towards him with furrowed brows. "Is Theodore Nott . . . desperate for something?" You asked with a disbelieving scoff. At the sight of his jaw clenching, his eyes avoiding yours, you let out a shocked laugh.

"Shut it," he muttered, sending you a dark glare.

"Now that's certainly out of character," you said, slugging off his iron grip. "All right, you've got my attention. What is it?"

"My father's been trying to score one over Riddle for years. Rumor is Mattheo's father wants him to marry a good woman, someone that won't tarnish his son's so-called good reputation. And well, you . . . slipped through his fingers like sand. Stealing him from you would make my father more . . . proud."

You crinkled up your nose. "You're not proposing to me, are you? Cause the answer is no."

"No, no. I'm just asking you to date me, at least for a bit."

The sound of it seemed ridiculous, but then you thought - you were both getting something out of it. It was nothing more than a partnership, and a good one at that. Either way, you'd be pulling one over Mattheo and that would be good enough for you.

"How much is 'for a bit'?"

-

"Everyone." Theo had walked back into the room, you snuggled comfortably into his arms. He had tapped a fork against his glass, gathering the attention of his friends. Mattheo's jaw dropped, the hand swung around some girl you had seen around slithering it's way back to his side. "I want to introduce you to my girlfriend."

That's right, you smug snake. I win.

part two coming soon . . . <3

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Idk who i want this ask for other than Firefly, but an S/O who’s such a light weight that basically one sip of alcohol gets them spouting about how much they love their girlfriend.

(H:SR/Genshin Impact) Firefly, Arlecchino, Rosaria, Chiori, Xinyan, Clorinde and Dehya with a drunk S/O being overly affectionate

I don't even need to be drunk to do that for Firefly

Firefly lets out a sound that could be interpreted as a squeak, laugh, or cry of embarrassment. The answer was probably a mixture of all three.

Firefly wasn't that easily affected by alcohol due to her genetic engineering, but she wanted to tag along with S/O just to spend time. She swore they just tasted the drink before they started loudly exclaiming how adorable she was.

Sure enough, one glance over to their glass and it was still completely full, making her pout.

(Firefly) "S-S/O! Please lower your voice! It's a little embarrassing hearing all that out loud-"

(S/O) "But how else is everyone going to know what a cutie you are? That face right now is sooooo pretty...Wait, you're right, it only belongs to ME!-"

Firefly lets out a quiet sigh. At least she couldn't argue that S/O didn't love her so much.

(S/O) "Even when you wear your armor, you're my Firefly, not SA-"

Firefly's hand instantly moves to S/O's mouth, covering it before they could continue, eyes rapidly darting left and right.

(Firefly) "Okay, we're going home!"

The bar watches as this tiny woman manages to lift S/O over her shoulders with zero issue out the door.

Arlecchino watches with silent amusement as she hears what's so great about herself.

Would Arlecchino use any of the terms S/O was shouting out into the room to describe herself? Archons, no.

But...it was endearing to hear S/O think so highly of her.

Tracing the edge of her glass with one finger, Arlecchino hums as she sips her wine.

(Arlecchino) "Would you tell anyone else of how you felt about your 'lovely' girlfriend?"

(S/O) hic! "To the world, I'll shout about her on the top of the city!"

Slowly, her eyes trailed down to their glass. They haven't even got it to halfway.

(Arlecchino) "How entertaining..."

(S/O) "H-hey...! Are you making fun of my affection for my Arle!? DO YOU WANNA FIGHT?!"

With an eyebrow raised, she turns back to S/O.

(Arlecchino) "You are aware of who you're speaking to, correct?"

(S/O) "Some punk who's making fun of my girlfriend! I don't care that you look like her, I won't let you insult her!"

(Arlecchino) "...Maybe we should pour you a less alcoholic beverage next time."

(Rosaria) "Oh good gods no."

Sure Dandelion Wine was strong, but it couldn't be strong enough to knock S/O flat on their ass like this, right?

(S/O) "Your eyes are so pretty too...the way they look like you want to-"

(Rosaria) "Okay, I get it, thank you. Don't finish that."

As annoying as their volume was, especially considering people were giving her and S/O looks, this was pretty damn funny.

And also sweet, she had no idea they had this much love stored for her.

Part of her feels bad, she hadn't even done that much to deserve such praise.

Rosaria just chuckles and reaches out a hand to rustle their hair, which they hum at the cute gesture.

(S/O) "See?! Just like that, you're such a darling!"

(Rosaria) "Not the word I'd use, but sure."

(S/O) "I can use a hundred different words to-"

(Rosaria) "Do not."

(Chiori) "Ew."

Chiori would not use any of these terms to describe herself, much less anyone else.

To have S/O use pet names like "sweetie-pie" or "honey-bunches" was having her internally cringe to the point she might die.

(S/O) "Hey, don't you say ew about my girlfriend!" hic! "I-I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!"

Now that got Chiori to laugh, one hand rushing to her mouth as she fails to contain her own volume.

(Chiori) "You'd kick your girlfriend's ass, S/O?"

(S/O) "Huh...? NO! I LOVE HER, I WOULD NEVER LAY A HAND ON HER!"

(Chiori) "Then check who you're talking to."

(S/O) "No, this is some mindgame! She'd just tell me that it was her and not play around! She's too honest!"

Well, at least they were right about that part.

Next time she should pour them a shot glass of sake, if one sip from not even a full cup was enough to get them riled up like this, Chiori wouldn't have wasted so much.

(Xinyan) "K-Keep your voice down, yer gettin' rowdier than my guitar!"

(S/O) "Yeah, and you're SOOOO hot with the guitar too! You shreds it and...and...shreds it!-"

(Xinyan) "For the love of...!-"

Xinyan gets extremely flustered with S/O screaming about how lovely of a woman she is.

Which would be great, if half the Harbor couldn't hear them at this very moment.

She wants to hide away to avoid all the stares, but at the same time Xinyan wants to give S/O the best kiss she can.

She was always so insecure about herself, but to hear S/O's unfiltered love for her was something she could never have prepared for.

...Probably because they were shouting it, but regardless, it was enough to get her to tear up from love and embarrassment!

(Xinyan) "S-Sshhh! I'm beggin' ya, S/O! Tell me how much ya love me when ya ain't so loud!"

(S/O) "You want me to whisper my love for you?"

(Xinyan) "Yea-"

Xinyan then thought about that sentence for a few seconds.

(Xinyan) "...N-NO!"

She honestly forgets about the drinks in their hands, being too preoccupied with S/O.

Clorinde flushes red, and not because of the alcohol.

Thank Archons they drank at home and away from the media vultures, because the things they were doing was mortifying.

To both her, and themselves.

(Clorinde) "...D-Dear, that's enough drinking."

They were nuzzled into her chest, noises of approval coming out as they cuddled closer.

She had to stop their hand reaching for the drink, or more accurately, stop it from spilling over.

(S/O) "You're really strong, you know that?"

Clorinde lets out a quiet chuckle, rubbing their hair.

(Clorinde) "I have been told on occasion that my skills are-"

(S/O) "And you're so pretty...! And smell nice...!"

(Clorinde) "...That, less so."

(S/O) "Your chest is super big too...and pretty...!"

(Clorinde) "...I wish I have heard that one less."

Alright, romantic mood over. She moves them off her, though their whine almost made her rescind her actions.

But they needed to sleep. Or at least get ready for the worst hangover from a single sip.

Dehya is laughing in both disbelief and from second-hand embarassment.

As shy as she was getting from the heartfelt compliments, it was more the fact S/O was shouting so loud the other mercs could hear them and began laughing that made her feel antsy.

They would never never live this down, especially because they drank a couple sips from the wine they bought.

But damn if this wasn't funny/cute.

(Dehya) "Hm...what else do you love about me S/O? I'm open to hear them.~" And so is the rest of the camp, apparently.

(S/O) "You're so tough and kickass and..." hic "And super cute!"

(Dehya) "Cute? Not hot?"

(S/O) "Nah! The way you're so happy applying...the...the makeup thingy, its really cute!"

Now she was the one getting silent, and all red in the face.

(Dehya) "I-Is that right? Dunno if I should be happy or angry about that."

People complimented her physical attributes, perhaps a little too much, but this was the first time it was flat out ignored.

Especially since this was S/O speaking from the heart.

[hyewka]

choi yeonjun. | c.yj

PAIRING ▸ bsf!yeonjun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, smut, a bit of angst

SYNOPSIS ▸ in which getting your male friend prettied up for a party goes weirdly left.

WARNINGS ▸ sub!jjun, femdom, grinding, protected, dacryphilia 

NOTES ▸ parenthesis around an event refers to the past!! anyway its been like, a hundred years since ive gone ghost but i promised to come back with a fic and here i am!! its a silly best friends fic lol nothing more to it but i always enjoy any semblance of feedback, it'll motivate me greatly <3 enjoy this meal hehe.

tags: @soobhns (hope you enjoy it babes ^^)

"THE HELL'S YEONJUN DOING?"

You swirl your cup, tilting your head as you watch the new topic of your conversation touch up his hair a little too much, running a hand through his unruly strands as his legs barely work to have him stand up straight when a girl approaches him.

Mark looks concerned as he adds in, “And who the fuck got him in those bunny ears? Is it easter or something, geez”

You snort, your drink sputtering out of your mouth, spraying some of it on Taehyun. “Oh my god, Y/N, gross!” he groans loudly, jumping back as if he’s been hit by a water balloon.

“Sorry,” you giggle, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes still glued to Yeonjun. He’s fumbling awkwardly, trying to maintain a conversation with a girl who’s very clearly interested if the finger trail down his bicep was anything to go by. The rooftop air is especially chilly today, and you wonder if Yeonjun’s goosebumps are any visible to her. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, completely out of his element.

“It’s probably some stupid hazing shit, he never backs down from those.” Hyejoon mutters, scrolling away on her phone.

“But bunny ears? For hazing that seems weak as shit.” Mark responds, seemingly as interested on the train wreck thats about to ensue as you are. Then suddenly, he turns to you, eyes still trained on Yeonjun and the pretty girl. “Dude you’re practically his twin sister—why’s he acting like that?”

You cringe internally at that, smacking Mark’s arm. “Ow! The fuck?” he hisses, rubbing his arm. Twin sister? Oh god, you do not like that one bit.

Not at all. “Shut up Mark.” He only grumbles as he backs away.

You would rather shower in spoiled milk than be referred to as Yeonjun’s sister in any capacity—and it has absolutely nothing to do with what happened a few hours ago.

...It does add on to the grossness of it all though.

—4 hours ago …[5:21 PM]

The moment you step into his flat, you dash down the narrow hallway and into his room, launching yourself onto the bed with a triumphant yell. The plush mattress bounces slightly under your weight giving you a fleeting second of bliss before Yeonjun bursts in, diving towards you. "Not with your outside clothes!" he whines, trying to wrestle you off. "You're contaminating my sacred space!" he adds with mock seriousness, his efforts both frantic and hilarious.

You stick out your tongue childishly, and it serves the job to tick him off. “Man, you’re such a pain,” he groans.

“What should I do anyway? Change into PJ’s I haven’t brought along? Besides!” you retort, struggling to pull your makeup bag out from your tote while Yeonjun’s weight presses down on you. With a triumphant grin, you finally free it and wave it in front of his face. “Where are we supposed to do this then?”

He snorts. “The couch, duh.”

The mere thought of that dark green monstrosity, old and beat-up, sends a shiver down your spine. The last time you sat on it, its worn fabric had felt like sandpaper against your skin, and the patches of stuffing poking through made it seem like you were sitting on a nest of lumpy scars. You couldn't even sit through twenty minutes of the movie with Yeonjun before you had decided to move to the floor.

Your upper lip curls in distaste. “No chance. You need to switch that thing out ASAP.”

Yeonjun shrugs nonchalantly, clearly not as repulsed as you are. “What’s wrong with it? I mean, yeah, it’s seen better days, but it has character.”

“Character? More like a biohazard waiting to happen,” you say, grimacing. “I’m not risking sitting on that thing again. Also, get off, you're killing me.”

Yeonjun lets out a long, resigned sigh, knowing that arguing any further would be a losing battle. "Fine," he mutters, shifting his weight off you. "But at least take your shoes off. You're genuinely a psychopath," he adds.

You relent, rolling off the bed and kicking off your shoes with exaggerated care, just to appease him. Yeonjun narrows his eyes, silently watching you with a playful glint in his gaze, his arms crossed over his chest. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he observes your antics. "What?" you finally ask, catching him off guard.

He blinks, momentarily flustered, then quickly averts his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just counting down how many more years I have to deal with this," he says, gesturing vaguely at your exaggerated movements.

"Yeah, yeah," you say, waving your hand dismissively. "You know you love me."

"Keep telling yourself that," he replies, but his tone is light, the grumble fading away. You click your tongue, making sure to stick out a solid finger behind his back when he stands up to head to the bathroom. Prick.

But you can't keep up the act much longer when you look down at your outfit. It's not overly complicated but you still haven’t thanked him for helping you feel a lot more confident in it than you would've if he wasn't by your side ranting about silhouettes and all his other (not-so) stupid fashion advice.

With a sigh, you allow yourself to flop back onto his bed, your fingers sinking into the soft duvet. As you lay there, you take in the new decorations he's put up on his wall. He only recently moved here, and it's already looking a lot more like him than the last time you paid him a visit. The posters of his favorite bands, the quirky art pieces, and the sleek record player that sits atop a vintage-looking stand, surrounded by stacks of vinyl records—everything screams Yeonjun. Even the smell your brain finally registers as his signature scent subtly creeps up your nostrils; sandalwood, fresh linen and hints of citrus. It calms your nerves—like your body's trained to associate anything about Yeonjun with feeling safe.

You reach out for a familiar-looking photo strip on his desk, your finger stretching as far as it can until you manage to snatch it.

It's a sequence of three pictures of you and Yeonjun back in... high school? Freshman year considering you're sporting a terrible bowl cut that looks like it was done with a soup bowl and a pair of dull scissors. Yeonjun, on the other hand, smiles big with his braces, the metal gleaming under the photo booth's flash.

And just like that, you're suddenly reminded one thing; Yeonjun's always been there with you, for you.

("She's a total bitch anyway."

You gasp, hitting his arm. "What?!" he exclaims, affronted. "I'm starting to think you really enjoy abusing me."

"You just- you can't say that about women!" You try to sniff back the snot running down your nose, but it's futile.

He rolls his eyes. "She slept with Heeseung behind your back. Shes’ earned the title."

You shut your mouth and turn from him, not believing you're seriously trying to defend the ex-friend that had taken enough of a liking of your crush to sleep with him. It isn't the worst offense in the world but considering she's done it behind your back instead of telling you upfront...it leaves a bitter enough taste in your mouth to end the friendship altogether.

"I...really liked her, and I really liked him," you mutter, the admission feeling heavier than you'd expected. "Do you think I'm being childish? It's not like I was dating him or anything."

Yeonjun wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in as he taps his hand rhythmically against your arm.

The summer heat lingers in the air, the warmth from the sun-baked concrete seeping through your clothes. You can feel the rough texture of the sidewalk under your palms, gritty and familiar. "Nope. Feelings are valid."

A silence overtakes you both as you watch the fifth car drive by you. Distant chirping of crickets mingle with the occasional rustle of leaves in the slight breeze. The neighborhood is alive with the soft, ambient sounds of summer nights: a dog barking in the distance, the faint laughter of kids playing a few houses down, the low murmur of a television through an open window.

Suddenly, he tightens his arm around you, providing a comforting squeeze. You lean into him, finding comfort in his presence.

"You know I'd never do that to you, right?" he says softly, breaking the silence.

You look up at him, narrowing your eyes playfully, "Sleep with my male crush? I've always questioned, I don't know."

He gives you a betrayed look and you burst out laughing.)

It's weird how often you reminisce about the past...especially these past few months; sappy and overly sentimental shit that you try not to dwell on every time you hang out. Is this how old people feel?

There's always a time and place, it's just not when he farts into a pillow and practically Dutch ovens you with it. Now, that memory you'd rather attempt to forget as you close your eyes, throwing the photo strip back on his desk exhaustingly.

You don't notice that he's out until you feel water dripping onto your skin. Your eyes shoot open in horror, seeing his face inches from yours, freshly washed and hair slightly damp. He's leaning over you with a look of resignation mixed with amusement, a towel slung over his shoulder. "Enjoy your nap?" he asks, a mischievous grin spreading across his face before he shakes his head vigorously, sending a shower of water droplets from his hair onto your face.

You yelp and scramble up, swatting at the water droplets. "Yeonjun, seriously?" you sputter, wiping your face. "You're such a child!"

"That's ironic because you're even more of a child!" he rebuts with a pout, mimicking a petulant toddler. Talk about ironic. You narrow your eyes at him before exhaling sharply out of your nose, sitting up to make room for him on the bed.

He plops down beside you and it takes you a second to take your eyes off his face—freshly scrubbed and still slightly damp—before remembering why you're here in the first place. Makeup.

Right, makeup.

—3 hours and 12 minutes ago …[6:09 PM]

It was over seven months ago when you and Choi Yeonjun, slightly drunk off soju and beer, were giggling uncontrollably over the dumbest jokes in the dead of night with Beomgyu, his (now ex-) roommate, passed out on the floor. Turns out, shaky hands proved to be absolute dog shit when it came to drawing a straight line. You had silently panicked as you attempted to clean up the eyeliner that you've horrendously drawn on. You had really, really wanted him to like it.

Originally, it started off as a way to tease him, begging to apply eyeliner and some eyeshadow on his lids because you think he’d look gorgeous with them, to which his lips quirked up to, whining about how no man wants to be called ‘gorgeous’ and oh how emasculating it was. Plus, Yeonjun had an inkling your intentions were far less innocent than you let on.

When he finally surrendered around... the sixth time you bring the whole thing up, you admit that your idea of making him look like a clown and getting a good laugh out of his reaction moves itself out of your thoughts the moment he ushers you to scoot next to him and work your magic... whatever that meant.

But hey, it all worked itself out. Oddly enough, from that day on, you think putting makeup on Yeonjun quickly became one of your favorite pastimes beating your recent liking to duck herding (yes, it's a real thing you've spent way too much of your time investing in).

You like to think he enjoys it to some extent too, given the number of times he's let you practice on him, even if he would never admit it outright. But regardless of how relaxing you think it might be for him, he seems to go out of his way to make it as tedious as possible for you.

Every time you start working on his makeup, he fidgets and squirms like a restless child. He'll make funny faces just as you're about to apply eyeliner, or he'll suddenly sneeze, causing a puff of powder to explode into the air. Thankfully it doesn't last long, he either tires himself out or feels too bad to continue torturing your patience. Either way, you appreciate doing this for him a lot more when he's half asleep and relatively still.

Like now for example.

You're like, 99% sure he's dozed off. Considering he's spent the week cooped up in his apartment studying his ass off for two exams, it's not very surprising the all-nighters are catching up to him. Which is exactly why you're wondering the reason hes' chosen to go out to this party anyway.

His breathing is slow and steady, and his head lolls slightly to the side.

Just as you start to apply a touch of blush, his voice breaks the silence. "Don't make it look too obvious."

You’re caught off guard that he's in fact not asleep. "I won't."

"And no crazy blue tint."

You groan, pulling away from his face. Not this again. "C'mon, I only did that once and you've been holding it over my head for three months dude."

He cracks open one eye, peering at you with a mix of exhaustion and amusement. "You made me look like a smurf."

"It was artistic!" you splutter, not believing you're back to arguing about this again. "And you looked good!"

Suddenly, his mouth closes and he cocks his brow. Then his lips twitch into a suppressed smile.

He closes his eyes fully, trying to hide his amusement. "There's absolutely no way you just let that get into your head." you whisper, truly astonished at who you've chosen to be acquainted with for more than half of your life.

"Blah, blah, blah," he mutters, waving a hand dismissively before settling back into the pillow, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know I'm handsome, thank you for the reminder."

You open your mouth to retort, then close it…open it again…and close it once more, dumbfounded. Yeonjun's insufferable when it comes to anything that has to do with his face. His ego is practically impossible to pop.

But if you had to be completely honest with yourself, you don't blame him. You especially don't now as you try to ignore the fact that he's staring you down while you apply tint to his infuriatingly perfect shaped lips. You would never admit that one out loud.

Or the fact that you've thought about kissing Yeonjun a dozen times in the past. You seem to have some weird fixation on them. You would even go as far as to replace thought with imagine. Hell, you’ve been friends for ten years, it would’ve been odd if you hadn’t at least once...right?

It's normal.

("You're weird."

You snap your head around to him, frankly offended, "What?" Is there even a chance of enjoying a party with this nuisance by your side?

"Don't act dumb, you've been staring at my lips the entire night." Yeonjun tilts his head, puckering his lips, "Trying to kiss?"

You're horrified as you blink rapidly, your cheeks burning red, completely caught off guard. "N-no? How drunk are you?"

"That was a no with a question mark. We can try it out if you want." He shrugged, leaning in closer to you, of course with his lips annoyingly puckered and his eyes closed.

You're standing in the cramped kitchen of a typical frat house, the air thick with the smell of spilled beer and cheap cologne. The counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and discarded food wrappers.

Without thinking, you had grabbed the nearest drink and thrown it at him. The cold liquid had splashed across his chest, soaking his second favorite shirt. You know it's his second favorite because he's managed to pester you about it two years after this incident.)

You don’t necessarily like Yeonjun; hell no, you just absolutely appreciatively despise how well he's grown. He’s always looked cute—you distinctly remember the countless girls who handed you notes for him in elementary school or some who've befriended you in high school to try and get his number. You just never reckoned you’d be one of the girls checking him out.

As you finish applying the clear gloss to his lips, you can’t help but let your gaze linger. His eyes are closed and his lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks, and those lips— god damn it are they stupidly inviting.

You gulp down the irrational thoughts bubbling up, trying to focus on anything but the quickening of the beating in your chest. You’ve always been the one in control, the one who didn’t fall for his charms like everyone else. Is this a side effect of being under a dry spell for longer than a month? Being stuck in the unfavorable position of lusting over your long time best friend?

That must be it because when he flutters his eyes open, the world seems to pause. Just for a second, all that fills your thoughts is just how absolutely gorgeous he looks. It hurts.

“Done,” you whisper, your voice barely steady. "Went with the au naturelle look, per request."

“Thanks,” he replies softly, his smile warm and genuine. But then you're sitting there longer than you intend to and the silence stretches out longer than appropriate, and he snorts lightly. "What?"

You blink out of your daze, shaking your head, laughing airily. “Nothing." You clear your throat, awkward. "You just look... pretty.”

But then his reaction to that pulls you right back in your trance. For the first time, a cheeky reply doesn’t leave his lips. Instead, he’s silent and he looks…shy. That's new.

“Gorgeous,” you correct yourself, nodding. “You look pretty gorgeous.” Can you say that? You don't have a clue.

“Aren’t you just complimenting your makeup skills?” He teases, though it doesn’t nearly have the same effect as it usually does when his eyes are so doe-like, giving him a weirdly innocent look. 

You would never describe Yeonjun as a puppy, but if you had to before this, he'd be more like an annoying chihuahua. Right now, he's anything but. He looks innocent. Innocent and beautiful, like a hybrid mix of an angelic, golden retriever. "Besides, maybe not the ideal impression I want to make tonight. Does that whole pretty boy thing work with women? We're probably not that advanced into the world yet. Hey! You're a woman so you should know; do you think it's going to be a little threatening or—"

His rambling fades out by like, the first word— you think you might as well just be under a spell. Because once again, you find your gaze's zeroing in on his plump, pink lips.

Fuck... should you just go for it?

Your heart races, pounding in your ears, and every rational thought slowly slips away to go knows where, leaving behind only the burning desire to close the distance between you.

Just as you lean in, a phone dings, shattering the moment. Yeonjun’s eyes flicker towards the sound, subtly breaking the spell.

He pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen with a slight frown. “Taehyun said in the group chat that he’d pick us up.” He whispers. “Meaning I don’t have to drive or anything, yay.”

You smile in response, or try to as you try to gather your scattered thoughts.

“When’s he coming?”

“Uh, hold on. Let me ask.” You should move away, just a little further—you really, really should. Take your chance now and go to the bathroom to calm yourself down. It's the combination of Yeonjun being unfairly attractive, the fact that you haven't had sex in ages, and the proximity. If you eliminate one of those factors, you won't make the huge mistake you're so, so close to making.

But…you don’t want to. You don't want to ignore the burning desire of jumping his bones right this moment...for lack of better words.

“He hasn't even showered yet, Jesus christ.” Yeonjun snickers, looking down at his phone then back up at you. His squeaky laugh dies down pretty quickly when he notices you aren't sharing the humor, silently putting his phone face down on the bedside table. “What?” he says again. The shy expression’s back, his eyebrows tilt up and he looks like a damn kicked puppy…exactly your type.

Your eyes twitch and narrow with hesitation as you bite the inside of your cheeks; this feels wrong. You could stop it from going any further, keep your juvenile attraction from altering anything between you and Yeonjun. But when his tongue flicks out to wet his pink lips, you curse the gods for making the forbidden apple irresistibly tempting.

"Your teeth are pretty."

He furrows his brows, clearly taken aback. "That's an odd thing to—"

"I like it when you smile," you blurt out, your voice barely above a whisper.

"...Th...ank you?" He stammers, confusion mixed with curiosity in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, then out. "Yeonjun. Can I fuck you?"

He blinks. It’s silent as his eyes dart around like this is some elaborate prank, expecting a group of people to pop out with a camera in his face. You can see the visible gulp in his throat, his fingers hesitantly toying with the hem of your shorts, showing that he absolutely knew jack shit what to do with his hands. “Can you what?” He laughs nervously.

You've always imagined how it'd be like to kiss Choi Yeonjun.

And now that you’re experiencing it, all thoughts about this being a silly little thing you’ve entertained ever so rarely, hits the fan.

He feels against you like everything you imagined and more; the pillowy softness of his plump lips that feels so comfortable as they open slightly more each time it could lull you to sleep. His breathing that comes out in short gasps the harder you press yourself against him, having you dig your nails further into his face. His pitched whines drowned out by your feverish lips as you kiss him over and over again, feeling yourself get hooked by the minute.

You should stop. You should.

That’s what you plan to do when you finally pull away from the kiss, wipe your lips of any remnants of him, get off the bed and sprint the hell out of his house, then preferably find a way to blame it on female hormones or whatever. College guys never question that, do they?

But for the second time tonight, your mind draws blank and your eyes are stuck to his face, the slight smudge of the tint you applied and his heavy lidded eyes, his rising chest, the print of your nails showing up red on his cheeks…God, you’ve got absolutely no self control. “Um, do... that?” You breathe out.

You haven't entertained the idea that he might reject your advances, until now that is. And then what you've just done would probably be counted as assault. And it'd be too awkward to speak ever again and oh god, what the fuck have you done—

Your reverie's broken when Yeonjun suddenly leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer before he finally moves you to straddle his lap, the initial hesitation gone. The intensity of his response takes you by surprise, but you quickly melt into it, your body responding to him with an urgency that matches his own. The makeup kit gets knocked off the bed in your fervor, and neither of you care.

“Yeonjun. We—we won’t do this again right?” You ask, breathless, as you start to roll your hips slightly into him in an attempt of reliving that incessant need at your core.

“Yeah…yeah.” he sighs out, seemingly a goner when you increase even just a bit of friction.

“This is like, totally a one time thing that we’d just randomly bring up in a game of truth or dare as a fun anecdote and—and we’d be like those cool best friends with a cool little platonic relationship that’ve hooked up once. Totally normal.” you ramble, your resolve breaking as you grind against his rapidly growing boner. “Right?”

“Mm, totally.” he whines, his eyes heavy with lust. He looks completely consumed by the sensation he’s feeling and it fuels your desire for him tenfold. You kiss him again, your noses bumping against each other as you take his pretty lips in yours over and over again. You pull away slightly enough to catch your breath, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips, glistening in the dim light. Your faces are only inches apart, so close you can hear the gulp he takes, his breath warm and ragged against your skin.

"Whatever you say." he murmurs, his voice husky.

Oh. Oh.

This is totally unfair.

You brush your thumb gently across his bottom lip, savoring the way he shivers under your touch. "Whatever I say, huh?”

He nods slightly, “Yeah.”

You bite your lip before deciding to trail kisses down his jawline, your breath hot against his skin. You can feel his pulse quickening beneath your touch, the small gasp escaping his lips as you press a lingering kiss just below his ear is something you can only describe as maddening to your state. “You’re sensitive,” you note lightly before continuing your journey down his neck. 

You gulp when he decides on finally gripping your ass, taking a bit of control on your pace. He rolls his head back slightly, chuckling, “Fuck, gonna make me nut in my pants if you keep goin’ like that.”

You need to hear more of the whining, more of his cute noises and more of his pathetic display. You want to hear him beg.

“Hands off.”

Clarity washes over his eyes a little more as he falters, his hands lessening its grip, blinking perplexed. The innocent looks back almost immediately and it drives you insane. “Keep them above your head, you don’t get to touch me unless I tell you to.”

You don’t wait for a reply before immediately sinking down to nip at his neck again, soothing the spot with your tongue, and he gasps. Yeonjun whines like earlier and it’s so …primal. Actually you don’t even think he would’ve protested in the first place because he seems entirely fine like this, completely at your disposal as his moans start to pick up intensity way quicker than you anticipated. 

"Holy shit," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper. "You’re driving me crazy."

You smile against his skin, leaving one last kiss before pulling back to meet his eyes, which he visibly pouts at. You cup his cheeks. "I know. But don’t get too excited just yet.”

He lightly scoffs, “Way to stroke your ego.”

“Learned from the best.” you retort, your hands moving quickly to unbuckle his jeans.

His breath hitches as he watches you. “Are we really going... all the way?”

You pause, raising a brow, searching his eyes for any hesitation. “...Do you not want to?”

“Condoms in second drawer.”

—2 hours and 1 minute ago …[7:20 PM]

“P-please...please. Please. Move. Just a little." he hiccups the last plea, his tear stained face buried in your neck. "You're s-so fucking cruel," he says, his voice muffled.

"Sorry, I kinda like it when you're crying."

His breath shudders against your skin; you can feel his desperation, his need, and it sends a thrilling rush through you. You gently pull back, just enough to see his face, his eyes wet with unshed tears, his lips parted in a silent plea.

Slowly, deliberately, you let your hands trace the lines of his body, feeling the tension and desire coiled tightly beneath his skin. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, savoring the soft gasp that escapes him. "My jjunie's such a good boy," you drawl.

He trembles under your touch, his hands gripping you tighter, silently begging for more. You move your hips up slightly, just enough to elicit a strangled moan from him, the sound raw and needy.

"Do you like it when I make you cry?" you murmur against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper.

He nods frantically, unable to form words, his breath hot and ragged. The sight of him so vulnerable, so utterly at your mercy, ignites a fierce desire within you. You bite your lip, relishing the power you hold over him, the way his body responds to your every touch, every whisper.

"Are you usually like this?" you suddenly muster to ask, finding too much enjoyment playing with this poor boy.

He only whines as a response and you laugh, increasing your pace on his cock as you go up and down. "Y'know...so pliable."

Yeonjun bites back a sob of pain, feeling like he's going to die from the power he’s exerting to hold back. He grips onto the sheets, his fingers turning white from the strain. "Aw, look at you, poor baby. Am I going too slow?"

He nods again, more vigorously this time, drool seeping out the edge of his lips as his mouth hangs open, thinking you're going to spare him just a bit.

If you're going to do this once with him, you'd rather do anything but.

His face falls when you suddenly stop, his eyes blown wide, hair a disheveled mess; he looks absolutely debauched. This time more closely resembling a fallen angel. "Fuck me on your own if I'm so bad at this."

"I didn't- you're not bad at-" even when he tries to respond, he doesn't hesitate to try and switch positions, but you immediately put a stop to it, pressing him back down firmly. "No. I'll still be on top."

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, eyes wide. "Then... how?"

You shrug, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "Figure it out."

You gasp when he starts massaging your breasts, not expecting the sudden touch. "You're the worst," he moans against your tit once he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, suckling rather roughly while simultaneously raising his hips off the bed, struggling to slam his cock in a fitting pace.

His bangs fall over his eyes, and his lips are swollenly red from how hard he's bitten them. You would label his determination adorable if it wasn't for the fact that you currently had him stretching your pussy out.

"Yeah— but probably the best fuck you've had in a while." you manage to grit out.

"You humor yourself."

You can't take him too seriously when his words are so slurred and barely coherent with how eager he is to bury himself between your tits and lather them with his spit.

"You're such a dog," you purr, "C'mon, don't give up on me doggy. I can tell you're just desperate to let it all out."

He groans, sucking harder as he starts up again, frantically fucking up into you. You can tell hes already a goner when his eyes start to roll to the back of his head, the moans of your name short and incessant.

"Don't get dumb on me already."

He whispers sorry's over and over again, nodding his head.

"Fuck--f-fuck, why're you doing this to me?” his breath hitches, whining like a baby. What you're completely unaware of as you get lost in your pleasure— the last thing Choi Yeonjun wants is to get out of this looking like a desperate bitch. Especially to you.

But he simply can't help it.

Hes' never been under these circumstance. Hes never sounded like this for any girl, hes never let himself get this vulnerable. And for it to be during sex? It's the closest thing to a nightmare.

But he can't dwell on those thoughts when you lean over to his ear, showering him with praises on how pretty he looks and oh how well he's doing. That he's just getting you so fucking close.

When you pull away again, the only thing that's on his mind is just how...pretty you look.

“B-bet you tell other guys that all the time,” his smirk twitches at that, getting himself worked up.

You tilt your head. “Calling them pretty?” you implore, rolling his nipples between your fingers just to elicit that perfect reaction from him; he gives you just as much, half gasping half moaning against his better will, “A few, yeah” you tease.

That doesn't seem to be the right thing to say because his face immediately falls and your intention of having light banter goes to the back burner as you slightly panic, feeling bad and kissing him in attempt of making it up to him non verbally. But that doesn't do the job because the moment you pull away, he's still frowning.

You sigh, rubbing your thumb on his cheek affectionately, "But you're the one I'm most honest about."

He doesn't hesitate to lean into the familiar touch, and you can't help but coo at how cute he's acting. "You mean that?"

You press your forehead to his, your breath mingling with his, and nod. "Mhm, the prettiest."

That does it.

Slowly, he starts to thrust upward, trying to match the rhythm he had previously set. You can feel his desperation, his need to please you, and it sends a thrill through your body.

"That's it," you purr, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Show me how badly you want it baby."

He groans, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside you with each thrust. His hands find their way to your hips, guiding you to move with him. You can feel the tension in his body, every muscle working to bring you both closer to the edge. You purposefully clench around his swollen cock and he buries his head against you again. You let him as you thread through his hair.

"You feel so good, you smell so good, you—" he breathes, his voice trembling with the effort. "Please, let me—fuck, cum please—c-can't hold it any longer."

You press your lips to his neck, sucking lightly as you murmur, "Not yet, baby. I want to feel you beg for it."

His thrusts become more frantic under you, the sound of skin slapping against skin being proof, his breath coming out hot and ragged against your skin. "Please," he begs sweetly, his voice a desperate whisper. "I need it so bad. Please, let me cum. I'll do anything."

Your own desire reaches a fever pitch as you watch him unravel beneath you. "Anything?" you tease.

"Anything," he repeats, his eyes locking onto yours, filled with a mixture of desperation and adoration.

With a wicked smile, you finally relent, moving your hips in sync with his thrusts, the friction building to an unbearable intensity. "Cum for me," you command, your voice low and sultry. "Now."

His body tenses, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he finally lets go, the release hitting him with shuddering force. The sight of him coming undone beneath you pushes you over the edge, your own climax ripping through you, leaving you both breathless and trembling.

"Holy shit."

You chuckle, collapsing to his side, both of you now staring at the ceiling. But slowly, the realization starts to set in.

You just...had sex with Choi Yeonjun. Whatever bliss you were stuck in, dissipates as nut clarity takes over. You just fucked your best friend. And even worse, you dirty talked. Suddenly, you feel shame and embarrassment course through your bloodstream, making your cheeks burn and your stomach twist.

"D-did you... like, cum?"

You avoid eye contact, preferring the staring contest you're having with his stupid ceiling as you wrap your naked body with his sheets. "Yep."

An awkward silence hangs between you, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You can feel his eyes on you, searching for something, but you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, counting the imperfections in the paint.

"Splendid," he finally says, the word hanging in the air.

Splendid...splendid?

You burst out in a fit of giggles, unable to hold it back. The look of disbelief on your face is mirrored by the amusement in his eyes. "Splendid? Really?" you manage to say between giggles, your body shaking with laughter.

He blushes, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "What? I use big words when I'm nervous."

"Splendid's a big word to you?"

"Okay, low blow."

"Man, just pass me my clothes," you laugh, shifting to sit up on the bed. The blanket is draped over your chest, and you look at him expectantly as he fetches the ones that got on the floor.

He watches you, a slight smile playing on his lips, but confusion clouds your eyes. What's he expecting? "Turn around."

He looks even more puzzled as he says, "But we just had sex. Like penis in vagina sex. I saw it all."

"Yeah, and never again, Yeonjun," you retort, still giggling as you reach out for your clothes. "Just turn around."

He rolls his eyes but obliges. "Fine, fine. I’m turning around."

You quickly gather your clothes, slipping into them while keeping an eye on his back. "Damn, so that really was just a one-time thing."

"Mhm," you hum, then get off his bed fully dressed to go to his bathroom and at least make your hair look presentable. As you run a brush through your hair, you glance at your reflection, shaking your head at the state you're currently in.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun is still in bed, naked and absolutely spent, watching you as you step out of the bathroom, heading to his closet to fetch him some pants since ...there's a big wet spot on the ones he was going to wear to the party. As you rummage through the closet, something catches your eye, and you pull out a pair of familiar bunny ears.

Your bunny ears from high school.

You come out of the closet, holding the ears up with a look of surprise. "You still have this?"

Yeonjun glances over, his eyes widening in recognition before he breaks into a sheepish grin. "Oh, those. Yeah, I found them a while back and couldn't bring myself to throw them away."

You break into a grin, walking over to the bed, playfully placing the bunny ears on his head. "You look ridiculous," you laugh, pulling out your phone to take pictures of him.

He groans but doesn’t stop you, knowing it's futile. "Great, now you're going to have blackmail material for life."

You snap a few photos, giggling at how silly he looks. "Oh, absolutely. These are going to come in handy."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly as the ears flop around. "Just promise you won't show them to anyone. My reputation can't handle it."

You laugh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. "Don't worry, these are just for me."

See?

You and Yeonjun are just fine. Was it a little awkward the first few seconds? Sure. But there's absolutely nothing in the world that can get in the between of you two.

—present …[9:24 PM]

Noticing how much more comfortable he seems now, everything else fades into background noise— he’s almost right back to his usual self. Something about that bothers you as you take a big gulp of your drink, feeling the burn as it slides down your throat. Suddenly, you stand up, blinking away the dizziness. “I need to sober up. Hyejoon, come with me to the bathroom.”

“Huh? Oh, okay.”

It’s a hassle to find the bathroom, but when you do, you quickly lock the door behind you and your friend. You rush to the mirror, staring at your reflection before turning on the water to wash your face.

What’s wrong with you? Is there something wrong with you? It must be the alcohol.

“You feeling alright?” she whispers, her brows furrowing in concern.

You splash your face with freezing water over and over again, trying to snap out of it. The one question that plagues your thoughts over and over again feels dooming; did you make a mistake?

“Hey,” she pulls you back to face her. “Are you okay?”

You stare at her in silence for a bit until you end up cracking a firm smile, “Yeah, just needed to get my head out of the gutter.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The morning comes but not relief. Despite the breeze wafting in from the open balcony, you swelter until the sun rises. Even then, you’re not free. Lloyd remains, snoring, latched on. 

When he stirs, it’s only the promise of what’s to come. This is the day. A day you never dreamed of. A day you never longed for. A day he will make sure happens exactly as he wills. Just as he has forced on you every single other desire in his twisted brain. 

You let the hours past, hoping deep down he sleeps through it all. The sun continues its lazy ascent, shifting through shades of coral, gold, and yellow. The smell of the ocean flows through with the noise of the waves. 

His hand slides up from your stomach to your chest. He squeezes and growls, rolling his hips as he nibbles your ear. You stare at the blurry coastline through the large glass doors across the balcony. You hold back a sigh. 

“Morning, bean,” he rasps. “Mm, it’s our special day.” 

He kneads your chest. It takes everything in you not to stop him. His palm against your naked flesh, the pebble of your nipple pressing into his hand, the goosebumps across your skin. The sensations are enough to have you paralysed. 

“If I could marry you right here in this bed, I would,” he hums. “Straight from the vows to the... well.” He snickers and wiggles his hips again. “Ah, jelly bean. I’m so happy.” 

You stay still and silent. He kisses your hair and pushes himself away from you. You let a sliver of tension loose as the bed bounces under him. The empty bed would be paradise if not for him. 

“Alright, well, we still got some time to go,” he struts to the coffee bar, his ass out shamelessly. He pops a pod in the machine and snaps the lid down. “Stylist will be here later and your dress is on its way. I’ll call down for some breakfast first. Oh, my suit.” He taps the button and turns to face you. You pull the blanket over your face so you can’t see his erection. “You take your time though. Need to rest up for tonight.” 

He pushes off the coffee bar, his feet slapping the floor as he strides across the suite. There’s a brief pause before the trickle of his piss hits the toilet water. It gets louder as he lets the stream free. You grimace beneath the blanket. 

If someone asked you at any point in life what hell is, you couldn’t think of anything worse than this. 

He comes back out. The cup clinks on the tray and he slurps loudly. He goes to the balcony and pushes the glass door all the way open. He steps out, naked, and sighs up at the sky. 

“Bean, you gotta come see this.” 

You don’t move. You touch the mattress and close your eyes. Please, just make me a part of the bed. Turn me to spring and cushion. I would much rather be a gel top cooling pad. 

He calls you again. You cringe and push yourself up. You slump and slide off the bed. You grab the robe and wrap it around yourself. 

You drag your feet to the doors. You stare out in dread. He leans on the railing and drinks his coffee. You shuffle up beside him. It is beautiful. You can’t deny that. 

Your old life was dull and boring. You never even bothered of dreaming of a place like this. You wouldn’t ever be able to afford it. 

“I’m gonna fuck you out here. Tonight,” he slips his hand along your lower back. “In the tub. On the bed. Against the wall.” His finger swirls against the robe. “But I think out here will be my favourite.” 

You grip the railing as stare at the sun. Your eyes water until you’re forced to look away. It burns but not as much as your fate. You can’t stop him as much as you can’t stop time. Lloyd Hansen is as inevitable as a ticking clock. 

🩷

You don’t feel like yourself. It’s for more than your circumstance. It isn’t just that Lloyd ripped you out of every familiarity in your life. It’s the dress, the hair, the makeup, the shoes... 

The woman responsible for it all leaves. She never gave a name. She didn’t say more than she needed to. You respect that. You’re less than equipped to pretend. You’ve never been very good at that and you need to save your energy. 

You stand by the balcony doors and stare out at the azure waves. The sleek ivory satin sheath tickles your skin. It’s simple. Thin enough for you to bear the Hawaiian sun. There’s a ribbon around your wrist with a corsage of orange hibiscus. 

The door opens and closes. You don’t react as your eyes stick into the distance. You think of walking into the tides and just not stopping. 

“Jelly bean?” Lloyd’s voice brings your vision into focus. 

You face him. His expression shifts. His blue eyes dilate and his jaw ticks. His lips part. 

“Wow,” he wisps and touches his chest. 

He wears a pair of powder blue slacks. His shirt is satin, a silvery blue with a pattern of garish chains printed into the fabric. It’s tacky. There’s a peak of a real chain around his neck, shining gold, matching the buckles on his ivory loafers. The same orange hibiscus is pinned by his left lapel. 

“My oh my, jelly bean. My favourite candy,” he crosses the room and extends his arms to you, “the sweetest I know.” 

You clasp your hand around your other wrist. Your body locks up as he grazes his palms along your arms. He pulls you to him and hums. 

“I don’t wanna ruin all this,” he drags his touch up your shoulder and along your neck. “Not yet.” 

You gulp. The hopelessness swells over. That anger that kept you awake, that kept you from cracking the day before, it dissipates into tepid acceptance. Your lip quivers and you force it still as you bite the inside of your cheeks. 

“Come on. Can’t be late to true love.” he grabs your hand and turns. He struts to the door and tugs you through. 

The shoes are wedges, not too high. You’re thankful for nothing but that. As you come out in the hall, he re-arranges himself next to you and loops his arm through yours. 

It’s a death march. The type you’ve only read about or seen on TV. The accused queen walking on the spite of her maddened husband; the rival cousin swept up in fears of treason; the unfortunate captive of a lost battle facing the noose. All you can do is put one foot in front of the last. 

Outside, the warmth stuns you. It is a scalding contrast to the ice in your veins. Lloyd doesn’t relent, doesn’t hesitate. You could plant your feet and fold in on yourself. Yet, you keep going. 

Days of desolation, a night of smoke, a flurry of chaos... all of it melds in your mind, stirring to a disorienting cacophony. Even ground turns to pebble and softens to silt and sand. 

You look around as if only just awaking. He leads you around a jutted cliff and down a winding path. The salt of the ocean laces the air, the lapping of waves rolls softly. You come in sight of the sun as your chunked wedges sink into the grains below. 

The water sparkles, the sky softens but does not dim, and the horizon ripples like golden thread. It’s immaculate. 

You have no choice but to lean into Lloyd as he guides you. It’s like wading through quicksand but that’s more than just the terrain. Your limps are stiff and stubborn. Go back, go back, go back. 

There’s a man and a woman. He’s in a white shirt and white pants. There’s a scarf or something around his shoulders. There’s silver crosses sewn into it, another hung from his neck with beads. You’re not religious. Once you thought you were. There’s a reason that changed. 

The woman is the same that came to the room to arrange your hair and paint your face. She is patiently silent as she stands to the side. You never thought of being married but this is far from anything you would imagine. 

He smiles expectantly as he watches you approach. Lloyd stops you across from the man and greets him, “father.” 

The man opens the book in his hands. “Shall we begin?” 

“Yes,” Lloyd turns to face you and takes your hands in his. “I’ve never been more ready.” 

You’ve never been less. 

You stare at his upper lip. That bristly line of hair. That questionable choice. It explains all you could ever wonder about the man. It’s tacky, defiant, and odd. 

Lloyd squeezes your hands as the priest clears his throat. You shiver despite the balmy heat. Your feet sink deeper in the sand. 

“Do you stand her and vow yourself before the Lord with no reason 

"Miss, repeat after me. ‘I, solemnly swear, to take this man in holy matrimony. As my husband to keep, to cherish, and love.’” 

The waves crash into the shore. It’s deafening. Your forehead trickles with sweat and the nape of your neck is on fire. Your hands shake in Lloyds’s. 

You squeak. 

“She’s nervous,” Lloyd chuckles. “Go slow.” 

The priest repeats himself; just the first few words. You eke out an echo. He continues until you get to that last word. ‘Love’. 

Then it’s Lloyd’s turn. He says it easily. As if he knows it already. His thumbs rub your knuckles. Your legs quake. 

“Before the Lord, and your witness, I declare you, husband and wife. Through sickness and health, until death do you part.” The priest declares. “You may kiss your bride.” 

Lloyd obeys before the pact is sealed. His lips are on yours, his hand on the back of your head, his other on small of your back. You’re breathless as he devours you. Your audience is unaffected by his hunger. It’s all very surreal. 

He draws back, keeping you in his arms. He grins and winks at you. “All mine, jelly bean.” 

“Sir,” The priest approaches, “the papers.” 

“Ah, almost forgot,” Lloyd lets you go. “Pen.” 

The priest reaches in his front pocket and slides out a black pen. He gives it to Lloyd. Under the bible cover, there’s a slip of paper. There’s a golden seal in the corner. The priest shows him wear to sign then you get the pen. You scribble on the paper, your hand numb, then the woman takes the pen and signs the third space. 

“Well, father,” Lloyd leans in to look at the paper, his hand under the priests as he cradles the bible. “Looks like we’re all set.” 

He closes his hand around the bible and the priest’s fingers. The holy man flinches as Lloyd reaches behind himself. He slides something free of his belt. 

You step back as a twinge plucks in your chest. Something’s wrong! 

The silver pistol flashes in the setting sunlight. The host is silent. A dark hole appears in the priest’s forehead as the gun recoils in Lloyd’s grip. He’s quick. He aims it at the woman. The bullet pierces above her cheekbone. She falls as quickly as the priest. 

You raise your hands in shock and step back. You trip as your skirt flutters in the breeze wafting in off the waves. You blink as Lloyd lowers the barrel. 

Calmly, he tucks the gun away. He slides the paper free of the book and drops the bible beside the dead man. Your lashes flick furiously and your heart hammers. 

You lunge forward. You stagger in the dirt as you pump your arms. You want to scream but you can’t. You just run, lungs burning, head spinning. You race away from the smell of blood and gun powder. You don’t know where you’re going, you just need to get away. 

You hit the waves as a force throws you off your feet. Lloyd lands atop you with a grunt and you thrash in the ebb and flow. He hushes you as you flail and whine. 

“Lloyd!” You shriek at last, your fear boiling over. 

“Jelly bean, you don’t get it,” he wrestles with you in the wet sand. “I’m a dangerous man.” He pins you on your back beneath him. “I can’t have anyone knowing about you. Didn’t I make a promise just now? To always protect you?” 

“You- you—you--” you sputter. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he pets your face with his wet hand. “I fucking love you.” 

[barleyo]

oh dear lorD BARLEY PLEAAAASE ILL FR GIVE YOU MY HEART AND SOUL IF YOU MAKE A MALE READER VERSION OF AMIRS FIC PLEASE I NEED THAT MAN CALLING ME A PRETTY BOY

All Eyes on You. (2)

Amir X M! Reader (smut)

A/N: male version of my last fic for @bok-hootospecs and any other male readers out there. I normally don't do male readers, but it was a simple change for this one, so it wasn't a problem at all!

Tags: male reader, praise, manhandling, anal sex mirror sex

Wordcount: ~0.6k

While he had let you get away with it the first couple of times, Amir was anything but stupid. When you asked to stay under the covers the first time you both made love, he assumed you were just nervous. He agreed and slipped under the duvet with you. When you brought up blindfolds, he thought you were spicing it up a bit.

He started to get tipped off to what was going when you seemed to avoid any situation that allowed him to see you fully. He was hesitant to bring it up. He never wanted to push you, but it was killing him to think you were so insecure about how your body looked. He kept quiet.

Until you asked him to turn all the lights out before he bedded you. He paused in the doorframe and stared at you, thick eyebrows pinched together in vexation.

Amir huffed loudly, arms crossing over his chest. "Why?"

"Why?" you echoed, feeling small under the scrutiny of his glare. You felt judged, but not in the way you feared it. You felt him picking you apart under his gaze, ripping into your insecurity and discomfort.

"Yes, why?" He passed the room's threshold and closed the door behind him, leaning against it while he waited for you to explain yourself to him. "Why do you keep asking me to blind myself?"

Dramatic, yes, of course he was, but he was extremely serious.

You bit your lip. You knew that if you told him your were dissatisfied with how you looked, he'd be more offended than anything else. You also knew that if you lied, he would be able to see right through you. You were torn.

"Well?" he asked, impatiently pouting while he waited for an answer.

Might as well be truthful, you thought. Huge mistake on your part.

Your cheeks were uncomfortably smushed at this point. It started to hurt a bit, but the pleasure you were getting made it worth it.

"Who's that pretty boy I see?" Amir adjusted your face again, keeping your eyes firmly trained on your reflection in the mirror in front of you. His hand kept your cheeks squished together, lips poured out. "Go on. Pretty boys deserve to be kissed, right?"

You shuddered as he pressed you forward with his weight, cock pushing into the hilt, making you kiss your own reflection. You would feel embarrassed being bent over on the floor and forced to stare at yourself if it didn't feel so good. Your eyes dipped upwards on the mirror to look at Amir. He was completely invested in you, eyes boring into the back of your head and your reflection.

"Unh-uh," he corrected you again, tilting you head forward. "Don't look at me. Look at yourself."

You did. You cringed slightly at the sight. You looked a mess. Hair out of place, drool pricking the sides of your lips, eyes glazed over. Your chest and tummy jiggled beneath you with each of Amir's thrusts.

"Fucking sexy," he said with a deep groan, fingers running through your hair and gently gripping a handful. He noticed the slight grimace on your face. "Why must you do this to me, azizam? Don't you know how rejecting your own beauty hurts me so?"

You felt a hint of guilt creep up on you, but your self-consciousness was a strong barricade.

"No matter," Amir said, yanking your head back to look at him. "We'll stay here all night if we have to. If you can't see how beautiful you are, I'll show you myself."

The hand that held your hair loosened and slid down your back, then your side, until it reached your cock. He gave you a gentle tug and leaned into your ear. "Eyes forward. You must watch while I make you cum."

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 10

@flufftober

Prompt(s): Bet/Game/Contest

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader

Warnings/tags: misogyny/catcalling/dude being a creep and asshole (not Dean), duelling, canon-typical violence, Dean being a dork, I'm putting a warning here for cringe/stalker/gross behaviour from the asshole,

Summary: Whilst perusing a stall at the renfair you encounter a guy that just won't leave you be, when Dean overhears. As penance for coming to your "rescue", he's challenged to a duel for your hand.

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: I just loved writing this one. I actually went and re-watched the episode before I wrote it after I had the idea💀 I was stuck on this prompt for a while. I was thinking of pie eating contests (duh-doy) and bets with Loki but nothing seemed good enough. But I hope you enjoy reading! - Love, Grem 💜

As always, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! 💜 Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

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Smoke wafted in-between the stalls and tents of Ye Olde Marketplace, the smell of meats, mead and treats making your mouth water. This was your second renaissance fair and you were determined to make it worthwhile. You were an elf this time around, not necessarily LARPing but just in costume; the whole nine yards with flowers in your hair, glitter on your cheeks and of course, pointed ears. Your outfit complimented your body excellently as well as your elven "character". Layered skirts and flowy bouse with your body adorned in earth-toned accessories, it was no wonder you were stared at by other fair goers.

One in particular had followed you from stall to stall. You tried blocking him out but the skin-crawling feeling of being watched had you on edge. You picked up a crystal at one of the stalls ran by a guy in a comical wizard hat and a long grey beard, reading the miniscule cursive card on the stand amongst the crystals. You couldn't make out every word but you thought it read something about keeping bad energies at bay.

You really needed that right now.

"Mi'lady." A voice said from beside you, making you jump. It was that guy. You can't control your facial expression as you cringe at him.

"Hi." You mutter and turn away. You secretly hope that all of the anti-douchebag crystals are out in full force because this is not something you do not want to be dealing with today.

"What doth bring a fair maiden such as yourself to a place such as this?"

His voice is grating and you suppress a shiver, opting to continue browsing instead of answering. Why did this have to happen to you?

"Hey!" The guy begins, reaching a hand out to you. "I'm talking to yo-"

You turn as you see his hand reaching towards you, ready to chew him out for being a creep, but another hand halted his hand in its tracks. Your eyes widen as you follow your rescuer's hand all the way up his arm to his face. He's dressed as some sort of knight, loose shirt and some chainmail, but his features have a stormy look to them as he glares at the guy who'd been following you. You melt into a puddle; handsome doesn't even begin to cover how damn good this guy looked. Even if he did have powdered sugar on his cheek.

"This guy bothering you?" His voice is gruff and stern, green eyes meeting yours and you find you can't quite say anything.

"Uh, well -"

"I wasn't doing anything - I was here first!" The creep protests and the look on your face says it all; you're disgusted and unimpressed.

You look back to your knight with no shining armour. "Yeah. He's bothering me."

"I declare a duel!" The creep says loudly and a few passers-by slow down to nosy in on the conversation. "For the lady's hand."

"Dude," Your hero sighs, looking incredulous at him as you roll your eyes with repulsion. "Give it a rest. Just take your damn potions and go."

The creep unsheathes a wooden sword and points it at your hero, who half-heartedly shrugs with an exasperated "really?". The creep jabs him in the chest once. He doesn't quite get to the second jab as his sword is smacked out of the way and a swift punch lands perfectly in the square of his face.

With a sickening crack he slumps to the ground, clutching a bleeding nose. You can't help but feel a little smug at the sight and your heart swoons just a little at the scene you've just experienced. A handsome knight coming to rescue a damsel in distress.

"Come on," You say to your knight, nodding to one of the other colourful stalls. "I believe I owe you a drink for rescuing me."

You set down two butter-beers on a picnic table, and jostle a brown paper bag of freshly made mini donuts in the middle. The smell that wafts from the bag is sickening - and you reach in and pop one into your mouth as soon as you're seated.

Your knight, who you found that his name was Dean, took a sip from the buttery stein in front of him, making a grunt of approval and immediately swigging more.

"Thanks again," You say over your own glass. "You fight for a maiden's honour a lot?" “It’s what I do. Saving people.” He looks like he’s about to add something else, but clears his throat, looking sheepish. “It’s a family thing, ya know?” “Hm.” You don’t know whether it’s the LARPing or if he’s being genuine, but your heart flutters again and you can't help but smile at him. He's stuffing two mini donuts into his mouth but when he catches you smiling at him, he attempts to smile back but his cheeks are too full and when you laugh at him his cheeks go pink.

"Well, cheers!" You raise your stein and clink it with his. The conversation ebbs and flows naturally and you soon find yourself engrossed in his family history - well, his character's family history - about monsters and demons and angels. It's so well-thought out you're almost embarrassed to not have anything so detailed.

After Dean's phone rings as you're traversing stalls together (nearly three hours later) and a very curt conversation with someone on the other end, Dean gives you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, duty calls." He sighs, tucking his phone away into his pocket again. You'd already exchanged numbers earlier after finding out you had more in common than you'd realised, and at the very least, if you couldn't date the guy you could at least be friends.

"That's alright. I had a blast today." You gush, grinning at him. He gives you a boyish smile in return and before he has a chance to say anything else, you lean up to place a soft peck on his cheek. Dean's smile only grows wider when you sternly remind him, "Keep in touch, Dean Winchester. I wanna know all about these monsters and the next parts of the story."

"Yes ma'am." He affirms with a short nod, making his way out of the fair, nearly tripping into a hidden rabbit hole because he can't stop looking over at you as he leaves.

You giggle and wave him out of sight. Perhaps you should make an equally intricate backstory for your LARP character, though not as sad as Dean's, using today as an example. You decide then and there that meeting Dean Winchester ought to be a turning point for something good instead of bad. Although, you can't quite decide who your next monster of the week will be.

You'll just have to call Dean for some ideas.

[airenyah]

i need to talk about this line here for a second, because it's an attack on me personally. but not the english translation of it, no, it's the og thai line that really gets to me. because he says:

มันโอเค​นะเว้ย ที่จะมีความรักอ่ะ [man - oh-keh - ná wóiie • thêe - jà - mee kwaam rák - àh] it - okay - [particle] • that - will - be in love - [particle]

he specifically uses the term มีความรัก which is more like "to be in love". which means rather than "it's okay to love", this line is more accurately translated as:

It's okay to be in love.

and as someone who really really really struggles with self-acceptance for my own romantic feelings for others, this distinction is really important to me. i can deal with loving others. i love my family. i love my best friend (you really don't go here but hiiii @magsimags i love youuuu 😘 (i know you're rolling your eyes reading this as usual)(i don't care)(i love you)). i love my other close friend. i love my summer camp gang. i love my friend that style reminds me of. i love each and every single one of the friends i've made in this fandom over the past few years (you know who you are 💖). i KNOW it's okay to love. i do it all the time. loudly. as evidenced by the fact that i just HAD to tag my best friend in this post to publically tell her i love her even though she really doesn't care about my thai blorbos, just because i really couldn't NOT tag her to tell her i love her. anyway. i can love. loving is fine.

but to be in love??? that's a whole different story. having (in my case romantic) feelings for someone feels like a heavy burden. it feels humiliating. i hate it. i don't want it. it stresses me out. and the person i have feelings for especially can't ever know about it. see, i will talk about my crushes/romantic feelings, but mostly to family and friends (the better they know the person i have feelings for, the harder it gets for me to admit to it), and even then the word "be in love" won't ever come out of my mouth in my native language. in english it's easier, but in my native language i just can't say it. it feels heavy. it makes me cringe. being in love is horrible.

so when style said "it's okay to be in love" specifically? that was a punch to my gut. because this is a truth i have not yet managed to accept for myself. and if the person i had feelings for specifically told me "it's okay to be in love" so firmly and so earnestly? yeah, i would crumble too

[pappydaddy]

broken (j.m.)

a/n: finally got a request done! it has been done for almost a year (oops) but i finally was able to format it and get it ready to post!

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

requested through chat

synopsis: jj meets a girl in the bathroom at a party and takes her back the chateau after seeing himself within her.

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover | @taurusvic | @moralina | @verystarfishflower | @4dr1ana | @adr1ana | @instabull | @poppet05 | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @popeheywardssecretgf | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @444lyra | @savagemickey03 *line through your user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: angst (not for relationship) | toxic relationships mentioned | hurt/comfort (a little) | short

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

____

 Y/N feels like she’s just floating through life, not really fitting in anywhere. She didn’t fit in with the rest of the Kooks, but that didn’t stop them from kissing up to her and her family. What made it worse was that she fell for it so many times. She would think her friends actually liked her, and then they would prove otherwise. Like right now. 

  Standing there, leaning against a wall, she scanned the crowd filling the extravagant house. She didn’t want to come to this party but her “friends” had begged and begged her - even going as far as picking out an outfit for her and promising to do her makeup. She was kicking herself now because it took them about thirty minutes max to ditch her. Huffing, she took a swig of her warm beer, cringing at the taste. 

  “Oh, my god.” She grumbled, shifting uncomfortably. She could feel an uncomfortable weight settling on her chest as her skin became hot, heat crawling along under her skin but it wasn’t from the fact that the house was packed like a nightclub - no, it was from her becoming irritable and overstimulated. The bra she was wearing was digging into her skin and her boobs were spilling out of it because it was too small. She had told her friends it was too small but they maintained that it wasn’t that small. 

  But it wasn’t just her attire or the horrible stickiness that hung in the foggy (and gross) air swirling around the enclosed but very fancy living room that was contributing to her irritable mood. It was also the arching of her heart as she was once again pushed to the side. Discarded carelessly, only sought out and used when someone needed something from her. The ache stung her chest, the burning sensation crawling up her throat and encompassing her eyes like ivy consuming an old building. 

  Her eyes slowly started to well with water as her vision involuntarily zeroed in on one spot on the sticky, luxurious tile floor. The weight of every horrible voice and every single instance that proved to her that she was nothing to anyone settled onto her chest, constricting her lungs as she tried desperately to drag in breaths. The wall of tears continued to build, blurring her vision as the weight increased with each passing second. More memories of her friends and family using her and then ignoring her. 

  She knew she had a purpose in life. She knew this but it didn’t mean it hurt any less when your sole purpose is to be used by others. To be used, ignored, and forgotten. Blinking rapidly, tears slipped down her face. The warm water pulled her from her daze, making her push herself off the wall. She stumbled as the heels she wore scuffed loudly against the tile floor, her feet skidding as she rushed and stumbled her way towards the bathroom with tears encroaching on her visual field. Luckily her mother forced her to learn how to walk in any sized heel in hopes that she would become a model (until her mother didn’t need the external validation anymore and the idea was quickly forgotten much like she was until she wanted her to become a principal dancer in a ballet company), if she hadn’t, Y/N was sure she would have landed face first into a wall making the night ten times worse and flashing people in the process. 

  Barging her way through the luckily unlocked bathroom door, she let her body fall back upon it, shoving it closed. The sounds of the party were muffled behind the french door, the privacy glass with floral designs on it cold against the skin of her shoulders and the tops of her thighs. “Can people not have normal bathroom doors?” Y/N took her frustrations out on the existence of the inanimate object. An inanimate object that probably received better treatment than her. 

  Pushing off the fancy door, she looked at it. Blinking at it, she saw the blurred colours and silhouettes of people milling around outside the door. An inanimate object. A nagging darkness swirled within Y/N’s heart as she stared at this door. Her mind tried to ignore the voice of the darkness taunting her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to believe what it was saying, she fully knew the hisses it spoke were the truth - the people she surrounded herself with only viewed her as an object. She was simply there to benefit them and to give them external awards. 

  Stumbling backwards, further into the surprisingly spacious half-bath (if you could still call it a half-bath when it had a sauna), her head slowly turned to look at herself in the mirror. Despite the way she felt, she was rather put together. She pictured that her hair was a mess, looking like she was just drug fifty yards through dense forest. She imagined that her mascara and eyeliner were smudged under her eyes, making her look like a raccoon. Lastly, she had assumed her dress was a skew and riding up on the bottom but slipping down on the top. But no, she looked perfectly fine. She just felt like she was a mess. She felt uncomfortable. She felt like an outcast. She felt like she was visibly different from everyone else out there. She felt like she was broken.

  “Oh, my god.” Her face contorted as she stared at herself in the mirror before tears started to roll down her face, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. This wasn’t news to her, she knew her only purpose in life was to serve others. Her goals were never her own, they were always made to benefit others around her. She never knew how to be intrinsic. 

  Burying her face in her hands, her elbows crashed into the marble countertops that practically took up the whole length of the wall in front of her. Who even needed this much counter space? A grown ass person could use it as a bed. In fact, Y/N contemplated crawling up on the cold marble and just laying there for the rest of the party. People could use one of the other ten bathrooms this mansion had. Unfortunately, there was a flaw in her plan. It was made evident when someone burst into the bathroom, startling her so much that the tears stopped flowing and she jumped back, falling on her ass. 

  “Oh shit,” The guy cursed, throwing the red solo cup he held to the side as he rushed towards her. Her swollen and red eyes opened, seeing him crouched in front of her. “My bad, didn’t know anyone was in here-” He paused, jamming his thumb in the direction of the door he left ajar. “The door was unlocked so I assumed-” He trailed off, blue eyes scanning her. She sniffled, averting her eyes away from the guy, looking at the mahogany cupboards that sat below the marble countertop. 

  “It’s okay, I should have locked the door. I thought I did.” She waved him off, tucking her legs beneath her, bracing her hands against the tiled floor to start pushing herself up. 

  “Here, let me help you up. I’m the reason you fell, it’s the least I could do,” The guy offered, grabbing her wrists and pulling on them until he could lay her palms in his rough ones, his fingers curling around her smaller, neater hands. She still avoided looking at him, but she found her eyes flicking to him for a brief moment when his warm touch brought her an aura of calmness. An aura of acceptance. Something this guy should not be giving her. She had heard the stories about him - hell, she’s even seen him in his douchebag action. “I’m JJ, by the way,” He told her once she was standing firmly in her stilettos, his hands still clasping hers to his as she felt his eyes remain on her face. 

  Of course she knew who he was. He was JJ Maybank. Womaniser extraordinaire, kleptomaniac, heartless player of the island, and no-good-pogue-trailer-trash. That last one she doubted since it was what her parents and her friends called anyone who didn’t have three cars over the price of one hundred thousand dollars each. According to them, the majority of the island was trailer trash, including people who were upper middle class. Despite never interacting with him, she was well aware of him. With his shaggy blonde hair, the dazzling sideways smile that normally hung off his lips, the gleaming blue eyes that always had her falling into a trance when she looked at him. It was impossible for her not to know JJ Maybank - he was every Kook’s wet dream. 

  She sniffled, her shoulders shaking as her mind looped back to why she was in the bathroom in the first place. Pressing her lips together, she sniffled frantically, trying to will herself not to start sobbing in front of JJ Maybank. While she was confident that he wanted nothing to do with her, she still would much prefer having her fantasy of him running across the beach towards her and whisking her away from Figure 8. She couldn’t have those if the image of him was marred by her blubbering in front of him like a complete mess. 

  “Hey, hey,” JJ started to freak out, nearly jumping out of his skin as he realised she was starting to cry. His blue eyes wide with panic as his hands let go of hers only to clasp onto her bare biceps, his back hunching to try to look her in the eyes. She whimpered, closing her eyes tightly as she craned her neck to the side in an effort to try and hide the obvious. “Did I hurt you when I scared you?” He asked, concerned. 

  She simply shook her head, sniffling as she sucked in a long breath before letting it out, trying to calm her shaking body as she tried to hold in the tears that wanted to freely flow down her cheeks. He was probably piss ass drunk with no chance of remembering any of this so she figured she would be the only one to remember this situation. “No, I didn’t hurt myself,” She sniffled, still not looking at him. Her breathing shook as her body trembled - fighting with every ounce of power she had to stop the tears from rolling down her face. “My life is just a mess and you’re probably going to laugh in my face because how can I tell you my life sucks when you’re a pogue who didn’t have power for most of last summer, but it does suck because everyone in my life sucks-” She opened her eyes, shifting them to stare at the centre of his chest, seeing the Carhartt hoodie he wore. It looked good on him. Almost as good as the tank tops he wore every summer. “And they all treat me like shit! Like tonight! I didn’t even want to come tonight, but they begged me to come and once we got here they ditched me!” For a moment, she forgot she was in the presence of someone she had never really talked to before - feeling comfortable in the air that blanketed them. In the air of the room they stood alone in. 

  “That’s a dick move, bro.” JJ agreed, hands not leaving her biceps as he stood up straighter. He was accepting that she wasn’t going to look him in the eye, but he could see the puffiness of her eyelids, the streaked makeup, and the wobbling of her bottom lip. He felt sick with himself that he felt his heart becoming lighter as he saw her cry and divulge her darkest thoughts to him. 

  “That’s the way with everyone in my life, they only talk to me when there is a use for me,” She sniffled. Despite the lightness to his heart, he was still weighed down, his heart aching to see someone so torn up. He knew this feeling she kept within her all too well. Like they are invisible to everyone until they are needed. Like they are stranded on an island, made to seem like they are miles out at sea, but they are only feet away from civilization. They felt forgotten. They felt abandoned. They felt alone. Utterly and totally alone in this world. “Who's supposed to be there for me?” She posed the question that weighed on JJ’s mind almost every night. Sober or inebriated. The question stewed in his head. 

  “We could be there for each other.” He shrugged. He saw how broken she was. Broken like him. A twin flame, both marred by the bruises of life with no one to help shield them from the punches of life. 

  She finally lifted her head, eyes meeting his. Red filled the whites of her glossy and tearfilled eyes. Her mouth was slack in shock, eyes wide. “What?” She whispered in an exhale, eyes searching his for any sign of drunkenness or insanity. His crystal blue eyes were just that - crystal clear and one hundred percent cognizant. 

  He took a second before replying, his eyes locked on hers. It confirmed everything for him. He could see his reflection in her eyes. “You’re broken-” He stated, making her face screw up in insult. He could see a snarky remark teetering on the tip of her tongue. “You’re broken like me. I like that. Makes me feel less alone,” He added, watching as her body language became less defensive, her face relaxing into realisation and peace. “If we’re there for each other, maybe then we will finally have people in our lives that just want our company.” 

  She blinked at him, taken back by the vulnerable request. She knew JJ’s life wasn’t the best. She knew he faced many turmoils and tribulations, but she never thought he would relate to her feelings of loneliness and brokenness. “Okay,” She nodded, her voice steady but soft. “I’ll be there for you.” She extended her hand out towards him, her pinky finger hooked. 

  He never once dropped his eyes from hers, reaching his own hooked pinky out to her. “I’ll be there for you.” He spoke as his pinky connected with hers, a feeling so intense but calming washing over the pair of them in their solitude. 

  Suddenly, a body crashed into the bathroom, startling to pair. “Aye, I gotta piss!” A drunken frat guy slurred, the drink in his solo cup sloshing as he fought to stand up properly, leaning heavily on the door frame next to him. JJ and Y/N both forgot that they were at a party. The music that had been muffled by the door had been forgotten about, the drunken crowd of partygoers not even a thought in their minds. It had been just the two of them. 

  “Come on, let’s go.” JJ released her pinky, making her miss the connection. She didn’t miss it too long for he grabbed her hand gently, turning and walking her towards the door. 

  “Where,” She asked, slightly panicked. In her panic, she found her other hand that didn’t have her fingers intertwined with his reaching out to grasp his forearm, stumbling in her heels as she shuffled closer to his wide, muscular back. “I don’t want to go back to the party, my makeup is a mess!”

  “Don’t worry, I know a place,” He reassured her, his voice soothing her. She was blindly trusting him and, oddly, she didn’t feel a sickening twist in her stomach. “A place I can go to escape most of the world. The Chateau."

[rasqberrypetalpostcards]

040.

fake scenarios and real feelings: daydreaming as emotional rehearsal an essay about imaginary conversations, survival fantasies, and why the scenarios in your head still matter even if they never happen

you’re lying in bed again. or maybe staring out a window. or maybe walking home with your headphones in, eyes glazed over and just a little too far away. and it starts.

the fake scenario. the mental movie. the daydream you’ve played so many times you could recite it in your sleep.

they finally say the thing you’ve always needed to hear. you get the apology you’ll never receive. you walk into the room and everyone looks. you save the world. or you cry in someone’s arms. or someone finds you and says, “i’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

it’s not real. not technically. but it feels like something. sometimes, it feels like everything.

daydreaming isn’t delusion. it’s rehearsal.

it’s your brain running simulations. your heart test-driving outcomes.

you imagine what you’d say if you ever saw them again. you picture your future self finally happy, finally safe. you imagine being chosen — loudly, obviously, without hesitation.

and maybe it’s fiction. but it’s also preparation.

because deep down, you’re practicing how it might feel. what you’d do. what you’d want. what you’d need.

fake conversations are sometimes more honest than real ones

in the scenarios, you’re articulate. you don’t stumble. you don’t shrink. you don’t apologize for existing.

you say everything you’re too afraid to say out loud. you scream. or whisper. or cry without shame.

you get closure. you get clarity. you get control.

and no one interrupts you. no one rolls their eyes. no one walks away.

it’s not just a fantasy. it’s a version of you that feels brave.

and sometimes, imagining that version is the first step to becoming her.

we dream of love because we need to believe it could exist

the fake scenarios aren’t just about drama or romance. they’re about comfort.

someone wraps you in a blanket. someone reads your mind and tells you it’s okay. someone chooses you when no one else ever has.

and maybe that’s never happened. maybe it never will.

but dreaming it? letting yourself feel what it would be like?

that’s healing in its own soft, private way.

because your body doesn’t always know the difference between real and imagined. it just knows you finally felt safe.

the world is loud. daydreaming is where we go to be heard.

sometimes, we create fake arguments just to practice our rage. sometimes, we imagine praise because no one gives it to us. sometimes, we walk through entire storylines where we’re seen, celebrated, held.

and people mock it. they call it cringe. childish. a waste of time.

but what they don’t see is that it saves us.

the imagined life is where we go when the real one is too sharp. when we don’t know what we’re doing. when we need somewhere — anywhere — to belong.

and sometimes, we write it down. because feeling it once isn’t enough.

fake scenarios become stories. become poetry. become posts at 2 a.m. with tags like “i need this to be real” and “they don’t even exist but they understand me.”

and that’s not embarrassing. it’s art. it’s coping. it’s hope.

we don’t imagine because we’re naive. we imagine because we’re still here.

despite everything. despite how many times reality has disappointed us.

we keep dreaming.

daydreams are grief with a prettier ending

they’re what we wanted. what we didn’t get. what we’re still aching for.

sometimes, they’re the version of life that loved us back. the one where we’re held before we fall. where someone sees us unravel and says, “stay. i’ll help.”

they’re not weakness. they’re memorials.

tiny emotional rituals we repeat in the dark. so the lonely parts of us don’t forget what warmth feels like.

so maybe the scenario is fake — but the ache it soothes is real

and that’s enough.

if imagining it helps you breathe again, it counts. if it makes you cry and then feel better, it counts. if it gets you through another day — it counts.

your mind gave you a safe place. your heart gave you a soft landing. you didn’t get what you needed, so you built it in your head.

and that’s not pathetic.

that’s survival.

scribbled in the margins by, R.

[stitch-away]

tboy shots (gone gay)

pairing: trans dio morrissey x trans eddie (from buffy the vampire slayer)

summary: dio comes over to help eddie do his t shot. dio knows eddie's easy to fluster so he flirts with him for fun. although, it turns out, eddie likes dio's teasing more than he thought he would <3

tags: MDNI, needles mentioned, smut, t4t, hair pulling, oral, light pain kink for dio, clit referred to as cock

word count: 1.7k

part 2 - two twinks one strap

a/n: was gonna release this for pride month but fuck it, i can just do a follow up to it then. eek idk what else to say, but this was so hot to write,,, hope others enjoy as much as i did <3 i have no idea how to make this stuff look aesthetically pleasing 😭ya boy is raw dogging it out here

“i can’t believe you made me come onto college campus for this,” dio groans, sterilising the needles. eddie had called him over to help him administer his testosterone shot. his roommate was out for the day at some sports event so it was just them alone in the cramped dorm room. 

“sorry, i don’t have car. i can’t afford it with how much i’m paying for my tuition,” eddie mutters, fidgeting as he peers over dio’s shoulder. dio turns his head slowly to look at eddie.

“could you not?” he sneers, “and i told you college is a scam.” eddie retreats and goes to sit on his bed. 

“asshole,” he whispers. 

“i heard that,” dio says, not bothering to turn around as he draws the sustanon, “i came all this way to do your shot for you because you’re too pussy, so don’t insult me.” 

“i’m not a pussy, i would just prefer help. is that so wrong?” eddie says bitterly. 

dio turns on his platformed boots to face him, “yes.” which of course earned him a scoff.

“stop your whining, eds, and get your ass over here,” he says, beckoning eddie with a needle in hand. eddie walks over to dio before turning around and unbuckling his pants. he unzips them and lets them hang below his hips. 

“what are you doing?” eddie asks as he turns his head to see dio crouching behind him. 

“shut up and just trust me,” dio snaps. eddie feels his pants drop and the back of his boxers being pulled down. 

“hold your shirt up a lil’ for me” dio says, surprisingly softly. eddie obliges and soon feels soft hands adorned with cold metal rings travelling from the top of his ass up and holding on ever so lightly to his waist. he tenses slightly but doesn’t ask again what dio’s doing. 

“just relax for me, handsome,” dio says, his breath on eddie’s back and the rare compliment making his hair stand on end. he feels dio’s nose nuzzle the curve in his back before placing a chaste kiss on it. he fears he might melt if dio continues touching him like this.

“okay i’m gonna put the needle in now.” eddie feels a small prick and a numb pain. “if you need me to go slower or faster, just tell me,” dio says, gently caressing eddie’s waist with his free hand. 

“n-no, you’re good,” eddie responds, slightly out of it. 

dio pulls the needle out, placing it to the side and grabbing a small plaster to put over the shot. he kisses eddie along the upper curve of his ass, “you’re all done.” he stands up properly from his position below eddie and grabs the other needle to do his shot. with his pants still round his ankles and his boxers half off, eddie turns around.

“wait!” he says a little too loudly. dio squints at him and tilts his head. “sorry. i mean– i wanna do yours.” 

dio snorts and hands him the needle, “sure.” he turns around, unbuckling his studded belt and letting his jeans drop to the floor with sound of all his chains hitting the wood. he pulls his boxers down under his ass, lower than he did for eddie. “aight, handsome, stick it in there.”

“do you have to make everything sound sexual?” eddie cringes.

“no but it works,” dio says, smirking. 

eddie furrows his brow, “works for what?” 

“stop talking and jab me already,” dio whines. eddie steadies his hand on dio’s hip, pushes the needle in and injects the sustanon. after all of it’s gone, he removes the needle and places one of the small plasters over it before taking his hands off dio. 

“you’re not even gonna kiss me for being such a good boy?” dio chuckles, turning around. eddie flushes at his words, looking down to avoid his eyes but only succeeding at staring at the fluff coming out of the top of dio’s criminally low waistband. 

“ohh, eddie, you pervert,” dio laughs, making eddie face away from him completely, “aww i’m just kidding, eds.” 

“please pull your pants up or i’m not turning around,” eddie says, sternly. 

“you’re no fun,” dio groans. 

“do it and i’ll kiss you.”

without a word spoken, dio readjusts his boxers and pulls his jeans back up. eddie laughs a little to himself as he hears dio’s chains and belt clang together. 

“alright, i did it. come to papa,” dio says, stretching his arms out. eddie pulls his pants up finally before turning around to dio. 

“you’re such a loser, you know that?” eddie chuckles, letting dio wrap his arms around him. 

“oh i’m the loser?” dio scoffs, lightheartedly, “says mr. college boy.” eddie flushes before moving one hand from his pants to cup dio’s face. he leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to dio’s lips. dio wraps his arms tight around eddie’s waist and deepens the kiss. they stay there, kissing for a moment before eddie pulls back. dio drops his head into the crook of eddie’s neck, his multiple earrings tickling eddie, and rests there. eddie smiles down at him, running his fingers through dio’s dyed black curls. 

“thank you for helping me, dio,” eddie says, resting his head on dio’s. 

“thanks for the kiss, hermoso,” dio smiles, nuzzling eddie’s neck and placing a wet kiss directly where his neck meets his shoulder. eddie lets out a small whine which makes dio’s head shoot up.

“oh, you like that do you?” he chuckles, “you want me to do it again?” eddie’s cheeks are burning red as he avoids eye contact. he nods slightly. 

“uh uh,” dio clicks, “use your words.” 

“please,” eddie groans. with that dio is back on his neck, sucking, licking, and biting. eddie squirms, biting down on his lip, trying not to moan. dio bites down harder and eddie’s fingers grip his curls, tugging at them. dio lets out a pained moan. 

“oh fuck, eddie,” dio moans, “keep doing that.” the fingers in his hair oblige, ripping at his scalp the harder he sucks. his own fingers trail down eddie’s body, reaching his still undone pants. he slips his hand into eddie’s boxers, rubbing his cock before slipping his fingers in to eddie’s wet hole. the feeling of dio’s long ringed fingers dipping inside him makes him moan louder, clutching desperately to dio. 

“oh gawd, eddie, you’re so wet for me,” dio moans, walking the pair back until they fall onto eddie’s bed. much to eddie’s dismay, dio pulls away. he unbuckles his boots and drops his pants before doing the same for eddie. dio crawls on top of eddie, grinding their cocks together before gently kissing eddie’s lips. 

“i wanna eat you out and suck your dick,” dio says, maintaining eye contact with eddie, “is that okay with you?” eddie nods firmly.

“very much so.” dio smirks, kissing down eddie’s torso before pulling his underwear all the way off. he noses at eddie’s dick before taking it in his mouth. he sucks on eddie’s dick like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, licking stripes up his cunt in between. eddie bucks his hips in dio’s mouth, his head lolling back and his mouth permanently open with lewd moans pouring out. 

“f-f-fuck dio,” eddie cries. dio removes his mouth from eddie’s cock, replacing it with his hand as his tongue dips into eddie’s cunt. he hums into eddie’s pussy, causing eddie to jerk and snap his thighs around dio’s head. 

“sh-shit i’m sorry,” eddie says, opening his legs to check on dio. dio laughs, staring up at eddie with a cock drunk stare.

“no hay problema, chico,” dio says, pushing up and leaving eddie’s dripping cunt wanting for him. “you got a strap or anything around here, eds?”

eddie blinks at dio, slightly dazed from how horny he is, “uh– no sorry.”

“that’s alright,” dio shrugs, “guess i just gotta fuck you with my own dick.” eddie almost cums as he hears those words. dio slowly pulls down his boxers, a noticeable wet spot near the bottom. he reveals his fluffy happy trail and bush it leads down to before finally showing his erect cock. eddie sits up in awe as he sees the size of dio. he brings his hand up and wraps two fingers round it, jerking it off slowly. dio hums gently, a smile breaking across his face as eddie begins to tentatively lick at it. 

“you can suck it if you want,” dio says softly, patting eddie’s hair. eddie looks up to make eye contact with dio before taking all of him in his mouth. dio lets out a moan, locking his fingers in eddie’s hair, “that’s it, good boy.”

hearing that makes eddie moan on dio’s dick, causing dio to buck into his mouth. dio apologises but eddie doesn’t seem to mind, licking and sucking at his dick harder. 

“fu— fuck,” dio swears, “off, off.” eddie sits back, looking confused and almost hurt for having to leave dio’s cock. dio cups eddie’s cheek, pushing him back as he crawls on top again. 

“that was the best dick sucking i ever got in my life,” dio laughs kissing eddie on the lips, “but i wanna cum as i fuck you, not on your face.” eddie whines, pulling dio down into a teeth clashing kiss. 

“then hurry up and fuck me,” he groans. it takes dio a second to line up with eddie’s cunt before pushing in. eddie moans, wrapping his legs around dio’s waist with his fingernails digging into dio’s back. the sudden shot of pain and pleasure through dio’s body makes him cry out, fucking into eddie harder. the friction between their two cocks, dio’s deep in eddie’s wet cunt and eddie’s rutting desperately against dio’s stomach, gets them close very quickly. 

“shit– i don’t know how long i’m gonna last in you, chico,” dio groans, picking up his pace. 

“i-it’s fine, i’m close,” eddie moans, bucking his hips. 

dio wraps his arms tightly around eddie, burying his head in his neck again, trying his hardest fuck deeper inside him. 

“fuck, i’m cumming,” dio moans, his thrusts getting sloppy and frantic. “m-me too, keep going,” eddie whines, digging his nails further into dio’s back as he finally cums. with the feeling of eddie cumming on his cock, dio immediately tumbles over the edge. 

they collapse on the bed, dio laying on top of eddie for a second to catch his breath before rolling off. eddie rolls over into dio, snaking his arms around him and burying his face in his chest. 

“i liked that,” eddie whispers. dio smiles, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. 

“me too. i should help you with your shots more often.”

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 19 🏀⛹🏾‍♀️

Happy Juneteenth! Welcome to another day of Writecamp! Thank you again @agirlandherquill for creating it.

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

From today's list I picked the prompts:

"Trespassing is the surest way to die, you know that right?”

The loss of laughter

I used them for another scene in The Blood Cleaners, my YA Dystopia. This is earlier in Act 2. I hope you like it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Before Justin could say a syllable, Rico stood at the break room doorway. He held up an air horn and blew it. A few colleagues - Juanita, Sofia, Luna, Howard, and senior blood cleaner Walter - laughed over a game of ratscrew. At the blow, they hushed, covering their ears. Mia twisted her face as if she was dying. Ben covered her ears. Charla looked like she’d tasted something gross. The room fell so quiet that they could hear a pin drop, yet the faces all around spoke loudly. Wanda cringed as if she had only a few days to live. Paolo bulged his eyes, as if his defense reflex fired up. 

Rico cleared his throat, sniffing and snorting to clear his nose as well. He gritted his teeth. “So, we have our first exile for this generation of trainees.” 

Justin held his breath. His eyes searched around the room. Not all blood cleaners were in this room, in fact they were scattered around Corpa, dotting the tunnels and the surface. 

Rico walked to the center of the room. “Trespassing is the surest way to die, you know that right?”

Justin spotted his trainee peers, attempting a process of elimination. He didn’t need to.

Rico held up a folded paper. “FDE is only used as a med when you get the shots. Want to break into the pharmacy and help yourself? Do so and you’ll be with Pedro South 10th Tunnel, enjoying a sunny spot in the Death Zone while the lils eat him up. Consider that the next time you think it’s a great idea to go where it’s prohibited!”

He stormed up to the corkboard. He unfolded the flier, revealing a picture of Pedro containing the phrase “Exiled.”  Rico pinned it to the corkboard.

Rico walked to the door. “There now, back to work!”

Once the manager was out of sight, the room filled with quiet chatter. Some tears fell. Some heads bowed. Justin heard phrases like, “He was a nice guy” and “He was funny” and “I liked his company,” yet they were strangers to him. From the time Pedro came out of the wound, he did brave things. We lacked the recklessness of thrill seekers, yet he took on any challenge, often venturing the most difficult parts of the tunnels to show he could accomplish the hardest jobs. When Pedro was given the choice to be friend or foe, he became an enemy in Justin’s eyes. Now his family would have one less source of income. Justin never wished ill on his worst enemies, certainly not if they had five brothers and sisters counting on them. They wouldn’t have an urn to revere his ashes. The Steel dungeons would have been kinder.

Joselyn sat next to Justin, her eyes staring at emptiness, shadows clouding her face.      

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Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and OPEN!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[n0irrrr]

REISS MENTAL ASYLUM / 14

【 shingeki no kyojin / mental asylum – alternative universe, modern setting 】 『male!yandere!various x male!prettyboy!reader』 summary: Finally! You have been given an opportunity to work at Reiss Mental Asylum- your job hunting hasn’t been great, so to hear you got an opportunity made you excited. At the beginning everything seems normal- but without noticing, some people began to get obsessed with you. warnings/tags: DARK/HEAVY THEMES. Non-consensual themes; sexual assault, touching, drug use, rape attempt. Home invasion, yanderes, obsessive behavior, murder, blood, explicit content, sexual thoughts. Somnophilia at the end! masterlist

notes: someday i will rewrite this whole cringe thing and feel better about it, LOL. but i hope there's enjoyement in this chapter.

１３

「lazy afternoons」

“Yes, Porco, I’m okay.” [name] chuckled softly. “I will stay over a friend’s house, so there’s no need to worry about me.”

Porco snorted loudly, obviously making fun of his lie. [name] pouted at such reaction. “A friend’s house? Exactly who? You have no friends, you loser."

”H—Hey! I do have friends!!” He felt childish, and he could tell Porco was having fun by proving him he was a lonely loser. “I have many!!”

”Really? Haven’t seen you go out a single day without the same fucking guy.”

"They are just... secretive. AND busy!"

"Busy... of course." Porco's tone changed, but [name] couldn't put more attention thanks to his migraine. "If everything goes well here, we'll have a talk, you and me. It's important."

"That sounds serious... is something going on?"

"Just... take care of yourself in that disgusting place, man. Tell Victor—"

"Vincent!"

"Whatever his fucking name is, to stay with you. With what you told me, I..." Porco couldn't continue. [name] heard some grunts on the other line— was he embarrassed?

[name] grinned. "I care about you too, Porco."

"Shut up. I'm hanging up." [name] could tell he was flustered, but silenced his laugh.

"See you soon!"

"Lock your doors and windows."

"Will do."

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

After the call ended, [Name] let out a grunt. He hid his head within his covers as he remembered Mike’s words about him getting sick. The man was a witch—or maybe a wizard? Either way, he was right. Or at least, his nose told him the future, somehow.

[Name] hadn’t felt dandy when he got to his apartment the night before. He knew getting out of the car by himself wasn’t possible, and Levi, knowing this, helped him as he did before.

He had a bad stomachache and an urge to throw up again; but thought a good night's rest was enough to wake him up and make him feel better. Unfortunately, the moment his alarm interrupted his sleep, he felt the worst way possible.

He also had a fever. He was 100% sure. The cushion was already disgustingly wet from his sweat, along with his pillow, but his sudden weak body didn’t let him get up. Not even when he felt the need to puke. So poor [Name] had to stay put and try to calm himself if he didn’t want to make a disgusting mess in his room. He didn't know how much time had passed since then.

Even if his whole body felt weak and disgusting, [Name] tried to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. Yet, the moment he got up, he almost fell— if it weren’t for his nightstand, his face would have been kissing the floor, with blood being a plus. It was then that he accepted his defeat and called Margaret to notify her of his absence. She had replied, saying she had been waiting for his call since Mike mentioned his condition yesterday. The poor sick just sighed, thanked her, apologized, and hung up.

He was ready for another bad sleep when the phone on the nightstand rang. His eyes couldn’t identify the caller since his vision was a bit blurry, but answered blindly. The moment the voice in the other line spoke, [Name] miraculously surpassed an embarrassing yelp from coming out.

“[Name], it’s Erwin. Good morning, first of all. I’ve been notified of your absence for today. Is everything alright?”

“O—Oh, uhm, y—yes! Ah—! Sorry, good morning!” It was obvious [Name] wasn’t in the right mind. He couldn’t think clearly, and his head felt like it was burning. His words slurred a bit.  “I just got a bit of a fever— nothing I can’t handle, heheee…” What a fast man Erwin was— did he call him the moment Margaret notified him?

”Is that so? How are you feeling?”

”Everything is good! I’m fffine, really!”

There was a moment of silence on the other line, making [Name] a bit anxious. Was he angry? Upset? Did the think this was a lie?

“I see. Also, don’t worry about today’s schedule. Everything’s covered, alright?”

“O—Ok… and, uhm… sorry about today… I didn’t meaan to get sick…”

[Name] heard a chuckle from the other line. ”Don’t worry about that, [Name]. It’s not your fault— something like that can be rearranged when you feel better, so don’t overthink it.”

After saying goodbye, [Name] let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding.

The silence filling his room let his mind wander about the frightening man. He had felt the intense gaze on him everywhere he went. The sick male wanted to believe something else but a feeling of desire filled those blue eyes. The thought only caused him to grip the bedsheets harder, his face feeling warmer and his thoughts messy. He wanted to turn a blind eye to it, but it was too obvious. The man was bold!

But… would it be wrong, though? To accept the date fully? At the moment, it felt like an obligation—a must. [Name] didn’t feel particularly happy about such a thing. Neither when Zeke wanted to use him to do such dirty play to Erwin. Now, it didn’t feel that bad; it was just embarrassing. He laughed light-headedly as he pictured Erwin on a date with him—maybe eating strawberry cake? or just chuckling at whatever they were talking about…

The imaginary moment lulled him slowly, blinking lazily at the ceiling. Maybe a good sleep in another place would make him feel better…

But a knock on his door interrupted him, startling him. The sound only made him grunt— he didn’t want to get up… but he did nevertheless. Of course, as his mind wasn’t in the right state, he took his blanket with drawings of frogs with him. He breathed heavily as he tried not to stumble too much. When he got to the entrance, he opened the door right away while his mind ignored how Porco scolded him about how he had to look into the peephole first before answering the door. Living in this godforsaken apartment was dangerous; serial killers would love to pick a stupid victim here, he said.

He blinked lazily, not really recognizing who he was staring at. Until he abruptly stood straight with a yelp, realizing it was Levi at his door, looking as happy as ever. [Name] couldn’t be more embarrassed by how he looked right now: a blanket with cartoony frogs on it, his oversize T-shirt with his favorite cartoon, and his shorts. His hair was a mess, his face was warm, and his eyes fought to stay closed— it was more to say that his bruises were on display too.

Levi, amused by the display, raised a brow. “It looks like nose man was right.”

Still, [Name] didn't know what else to say. He stood there, dumbfounded.

“Are you making me stay here all day or what? Have some manners.” The ravenette spoke in irritation, but with no malice. After all, it was known by now that his scolding was just for fun. Well... sometimes. This was enough to wake [name] up from his embarrassing episode. He quickly opened the door with incoherent mumbling and stood aside, letting Levi inside.

He felt dizzy; what he said sounded more as if he was barely keeping it together. “I—I didn’t expect you here!” He cringed at his own wording, trying to save himself: “I mean, I don’t mean you can’t come in! It’s just that I— Weeell—”

“I didn’t expect myself here either, but since we all know you don’t know a thing about self-care, here I am." The ravenette spoke sternly, his eyes narrowing into a sharp critical gaze as he observed the apartment.

“Buuuut… There was no neeeed…” The amount of talking made him even dizzier, as he stumbled backwards a little bit. Levi just raised a brow, expecting another lie.

“Stop being stubborn and sit down.” The ravenette placed some plastic bags on the table and emptied it. He took out a canned soup, and [Name] could smell fresh vegetables from the other bag.

He stared dumbfoundedly at the contents, then at Levi, then at the bags, then at the man again. The ravenette stared him back and spoke as if he was talking with an idiot: “You don’t have anything in your fridge.”

[Name] stayed in silence, processing the words from him. Then, he stood straight as he stared in embarrassment, eyebrows furrowing. “How do you know that?!”

“Because that’s you.”

[Name] didn’t know if to take that as an offense, so he avoided the ravenette’s gaze and looked defeated.

Levi didn’t care, it seemed, since he changed the subject. “What have you been doing before I got here?”

“Hmn… nothing…?” [Name] sighed and blinked lazily. “I wanted to take a shower, since I’m all sweaty… but I didn’t have any energy, and I thought I would feeell—”

“Oh, you will,” Levi stated, while crossing his arm as he tried to think, “you will get that shower. You look like a pig.”

“You are meaaaaan…” it wasn’t as if [Name] was in his right mind anyway to think of what he said, “I’m going to fall… I can’t go… and I feel sick,” he tightened the froggy bedsheets around him even more— he just wanted to fall asleep again.

“No.” Levi spoke sternly, harshly taking the cover off of [Name], causing him to gasp. “You will get that shower, so better get up and show me where the bathroom is before I take the sink to shower you.”

The ravenette took [Name] from the back of his shirt, forcing him to stand up. [Name] couldn’t help but comply, secretly glad he didn’t have to walk alone anymore as he guided Levi to the bathroom. It could seem like a careless action or touch by Levi, but he was sure [Name] wouldn’t fall even if he tripped, since the grip on his collar was strong enough.

He just didn’t want to touch sweat.

Levi was a bit grateful the bathroom was in decent shape after seeing such living room. It was small, with some corners and part of the sink and bathtub colored in oxidation thanks to the time. The mirror had some marks on it, along with the flooring having some ruptures. In Levi's mind, he couldn't stop repeating how horrible this place was. Or rather, how disgusting this whole building was.

He ordered [name] to steady himself with the sink while he filled the bathtub with not-too-warm water. Complying with a soft okay—! [name] allowed Levi to work, a little embarrassed when he noticed Levi’s narrowed eyes glaring at how slowly the water came in. If he was bothered or irritated, he didn't voice it, nor did [name].

In whatever silence they were in, Levi broke it off with a blunt order as he returned to his spot beside [name], taking his collar again. "Take your clothes off."

"U—Uh..?! That's sooo straightforward!!" raising his voice, [name] could feel his face getting warmer. "I—I can't do that in front of youu...!"

"Then should I throw you fully clothed in the water? Or should I undress you myself?"

[Name] felt a little bit of dread at the thought of Levi letting go of him. If he did, [name] didn't trust himself to remain standing.

"O-Okay, okay! Just... please turn around," he said his request with as much gentleness as he could have, eyeing Levi with a pleading look. The ravenette frowned as he stared at the sick idiot for a couple of seconds with cryptic eyes before giving in. Sighing in relief, [name] used Levi's shoulders to steady himself as he undressed clumsily. A few times [name] tightened his grasp on Levi's when tripping with his own clothes, only noticing his strength when the ravenette grunted or let out a remark.

"D—Don't turn around yet! Just... step backwards a little bit, pleease..." Carefully, [name] stepped inside the bathtub with a hum as his skin met the tepid water. It was just then, with water just under his chest as he hugged his legs, that he realized how hot he was. He involuntarily sank his whole body into the water, humming at the now-comforting temperature. He quickly retreated to his original stance when he remembered Levi was waiting for him. "...okay, you can turn around..."

"Finally." Levi took a small stool that was behind the sink and placed it beside the bathtub, sitting down. He rolled up his sleeves and took the shampoo, placing some on his hands. "Close your eyes," he commanded before rubbing the shampoo on [name]'s head, massaging the scalp.

It was actually relaxing on [name]'s part. He thought Levi would be rougher, but his hands were gentle. He could hear himself let out a content hum while his shoulders eased and he rested his chin on his knees.

“Bend over a bit.” Levi asked in a gentle tone this time, taking the soap. Just when [Name] obeyed and Levi was ready to lather him up, he noticed a lengthy burn scar on [Name]’s back, more so on the left side. It didn’t look… severe per se— boiled water, perhaps? Levi could tell fire didn’t cause it.

Whoever it was or whatever caused it, Levi continued to bathe [Name] with other thoughts in mind. It seemed the idiot had forgotten, since he didn’t say a thing about his silence.

“Sorry you haave to do aaall of this, Levi…” [Name]’s voice cut his dark thoughts off. “I’m very sorryyy,”

This time, it was Levi who sighed. “I told you yesterday, didn’t I, idiot? If I don’t do it myself, I will be in a bad mood all fucking day. And I have enough with those shitty glasses at work.”

[Name] giggled, “a mooore of bad mood?”

“Don’t get smart with me.” Levi warned him, but he didn’t sound hostile.

[name] talked about everything and anything. He looked content even if Levi gave hums or half answers when being asked something. At some point, [name]'s voice got lower and lower, until he fell silent. The ravenette was unsure if he had fallen asleep, but seeing his shoulders go up and down slowly made him sure.

Just seeing him like this, in this godforsaken place, rotting away... made him feel something he didn't want to say out loud. He just felt irritation.

[name] seemed asleep. Before waking him up, Levi gently caressed the scar on his back and wondered the reason for this act of dominance. Confusion, or perhaps anger, danced in his mind—not exactly for the scar per se.

He retreated his touch and got up, speaking louder to wake [name] up.

"Oi. Wake up. You can't sleep yet." As he took a towel, he signaled him to stand up to dry his body. He noticed how groggily the [hair color]-haired stood up, with eyes closing every two seconds and not even complaining about being seen naked this time. Levi quickly wrapped [name]'s body without much of a glance. His arm went around [name]'s waist to guide him out of the bathroom and to his room, as [name] vaguely told him where it was.

Surprisingly, his room wasn't a mess. Everything seemed in order and clean, to Levi's somehow relief. Levi asked him for clean clothes as he helped [name] sit down on his bed, but [name] was unable to answer because of his sleepy state. The ravenette grunted as he snapped his fingers in front of [name]'s face, making him jump in surprise and barely waking him up.

"Clothes... Ah! Right there, Levi." The ravenette opened the wardrobe and took the first thing he saw, which was another oversized T-shirt with, this time, a picture of a fat cat, and a pair of shorts. He couldn't stop himself from raising his brows in amusement at such choice of designs, almost wanting to make a remark about it. Yet, it wouldn't be as rewarding to see [name]'s groggy state acting stupid like his normal self. He threw the shirt over [name]'s head, the sick completely out of it to even complain about it.

Levi crossed his arms. "Answer—should I dress you or are you capable?"

"Mhm...? Oh, yeah... I caan..." [name] yawned, lazily taking the shirt. Levi had never seen such clumsiness before as he observed how the idiot missed the biggest entrance for his head to one of the arm’s. And then he looked pretty content about being trapped in the smallest hole, as if he had done a splendid job.

“You look stupid.” That was the only statement Levi could spit out before helping him with the t-shirt. His next objective was the shorts, but [Name] seemed to quickly snap out of his dazed and quickly stutter slurred words Levi couldn’t understand, but could decipher by [Name]’s stupid, embarrassed expression. As always, he asked him to turn around.

“You need to eat.” Levi stated as [Name] finished, turning to him once again.

“I want to sleep, Levi.” The sick idiot tried to lay down on the bed, but Levi’s grip on his shirt stopped him.

“Before that, you will eat.”

“But I’m sleepy…” [Name] tried to ‘charm’ Levi by blinking and staring pathetically. The ravenette narrowed his eyes.

It didn’t work. “But I don’t care. Get up.”

All of this felt like Levi was taking care of a child. Or perhaps a cat. A clumsy, useless cat whose life was only to destroy things and be a nuisance.

[Name] complied. Although this time he didn’t try to not be an annoyance, because his body felt heavier and his words didn’t make sense. Levi knew he needed sleep, but he couldn’t let him, still. Or he just didn’t want to. He couldn’t deny that painful, tired face made him feel better.

He instructed [Name] to patiently wait on the couch, since at least he had some mercy on him and didn’t let him wait on the chair while Levi chopped some vegetables for the food.

The sounds of the old TV and the low snores from [Name]’s filled the room, leaving Levi in a barely peaceful moment.

As he put the ingredients into the pot where he had filled it with the soup, he went to sit on the chair while observing [Name], who waited for the food to be ready.

The idiot stayed asleep, with no care or worry about who was with him. Has anyone broken in? Levi wondered.

The lock looked cheap and easy to break, but Levi instantly knew this idiot would open the door before looking, even if he was in his sane mind. A strong lock or a fancier building wouldn’t change that.

If Erwin hadn't taken a liking to him, where would he be? Dead inside a dumpster, maybe. Or perhaps in a job barely making the minimum wage. Or suffering under someone’s orders. Well, it wasn’t as if his situation was any better, in such a filthy place. Erwin had his reasons to hire him, but he didn't share them. What he couldn't hide from Levi was the acts of devotion he had for the assistant; how his blue eyes stared with such... affection? No. Erwin wasn't like that. Something vicoius hide beside that caring-boss facade. 

Speaking of that, who was this guy? Levi felt even more disgusted by the place as he took another look around. This whole building was rotting. Either way, Levi could observe [name]’s attempt to ‘hide’ the mess—pictures. One with him and friends? Perhaps family; a younger [name] with a dog; another picture of him, a guy looking irritated with a black-haired girl... Pretty ordinary pictures.

There were a few small plants, too. A book on the table beside the couch; keys hanging on the wall—were those small paintings? Levi could distinguish between what seemed to be the ocean and a sunset; in another painting, there were frogs in a pod.

[Name] was just like he imagined: a mundane person that he wouldn't usually take an interest in. How could he? This clumsy guy was easy to control, easy to overpower, had naive ideas, was dense... Then why this sudden attention? To someone so insignificant? He could understand Erwin's motives and even that four-eyes son of a bitch, but not his own. Levi found this irritable.

Maybe he liked to imagine how he would tangle his fingers between [name]'s hair, seeing his expression of satisfaction only for him to pull and see that face of being hurt: that pout, teary eyes, that slight frown meaning that he's going to cry... Or just harshly grab that jaw to hear him squeak once he takes his hand away to see the marks he made on that pretty face.

That face…

Levi narrowed his eyes.

That stupid face.

The reminder of the food interrupted his nightmarish thoughts. He went to check and realized it was ready. Without any permission, he took a bowl from the drawers—which didn’t have much—which, particularly, was blue with painted sheep. Levi couldn’t really believe how childish this guy was—hmn? Was that a mug with painted cats…?

Levi served the food. Even when he made lots of noise, the sick idiot didn't even move. The caretaker got in front of him and stared him down—[name] looked exhausted. His expression wasn't a comfortable one*; his body looked tense, and he was sweating.

He looked disgusting.

“Wake up.” Levi grabbed the front of his shirt with no gentleness.

[Name] barely woke up groggily, with his eyes barely opening and closing. From his mouth came words with no meaning, not even pying attention for the man.

Levi made him sit down while he ignored his pleas for him to stop. “Food’s ready. Wake the hell up.”

“Buuuut… I’m asleep…”

“Now you’re not. Get up.” [name] resisted. Levi gritted his teeth, and in his eyes reflected an anger that made [name] shiver. “Get the fuck up, or I’ll punch you until you die.”

“Ok, Okay! I’mm uup—!” Even with slurred words and a weak mind, he knew Levi didn’t make jokes. The thought of Levi acting like a beast made him gulp.

“Huh…” [name] looked at the table, and then at the couch. “Can I eat on the couch…? I don’t want to sit down…”

Levi tightened the grip on his collar. The sounds from the TV weren’t helping his temper much, since an annoying money TV game was on and fueled Levi’s annoyance with him.

The caretaker only pulled him forcibly. “No. You will sit like a civilized, mannered person, not like a pig. You will make a mess if you lay down.”

[name] didn’t dare say anything else. He sat down, like a good boy, and looked at his food. It looked good, actually. The nice aroma reminded him of the hunger in his stomach, as it immediately growled. [name] took the spoon, ready to eat it all.

But, just as expected, [Name] was unable to even feed himself accordingly. His sloppy movements, thanks to his sudden sleepiness, made him unable to hold the spoon properly, messing up the table and dirtying his face. Levi grunted, disgusted once again and more annoyed.

With a harsh move, he took the spoon from [Name]’s shaky hand, surprising him with it. But before Levi could feed him himself, he took a napkin and, with not much gentleness, cleaned [Name]’s face. Whimpers and soft complaints left [Name], but they went to deaf ears. Just as Levi finished, he clicked his tongue at his own exasperation.

“Open your mouth. I will feed you like the child you are.” Levi harshly took [name]'s jaw while he guided the spoon to his mouth. [Name] felt ashamed at first, desperately staring anywhere but Levi's eyes. The ravenette didn't like [name]'s childish behavior, as his grip on his jaw tightened. [name] jumped, opening his mouth with teary eyes. "Why don't you just obey? Always doing what you should not be doing." Levi's never softened his grip, perhaps as a punishment for being disobedient.

This kept going in silence until [name] felt full. A gentle touch on the hand with which Levi gripped his jaw was enough for his caretaker to abruptly stop and glare at him directly. [name]’s body tensed. "I'm—I'm full..." The stare he got was enough to make him shiver. Why were there times when he could speak to Levi normally, but in times like this, Levi unnerved him?

It didn't help when he stared like that. And the way he silently got up, took his bowl, and began doing the dishes didn’t help at all. Was he angry? Did he do something wrong?

Well, whatever. He felt sleepy again. The food had helped him feel comfortable, in some way.

“Dhankss for the food, Levaa…” His eyelids felt heavy.

A grunt was the only answer. [name] slowly began to drift away, dreams taking his mind. His arms rested on the table, letting his face rest on them. The soft silence from the dishwasher lulled him.

This time, Levi didn't say anything else. Instead, he knew he felt a hand caress his hair before shaking his shoulder, but he could be wrong, after all.

“You are asleep already.” Levi’s soft voice sounded far away, even if he was next to him. His strong arm wrapped around his waist, guiding him to the bathroom again.

[name] couldn't open his eyes anymore. His body felt automatic—he just felt Levi’s hands on his mouth, brushing his teeth gently. Did he dream all of this, actually?

He didn’t even remember walking to his bed, but he was already under the covers. Levi’s hand rested on his forehead, and [name] could barely see his usual frown. The sick idiot couldn't help but close his eyes again, but once he opened them again, something cold was resting on his forehead.

Levi said something, but [name] didn't understand.

“That feelss goood…” [name] smiled contently. He chuckled softly. “You are a great nurse, Mr. Levi.”

Levi didn’t like that, since he flicked a finger on [name]’s forehead. [Name] whined, the eyes of betrayal stared at Levi’s face, who glared back. [Name] pouted.

“Not nice…”

“I’m not nice.” Levi changed the cloth to a colder one, by [name]’s relief.

“You are.” He closed his eyes again.

“Not.”

“Just rough sometimes. But you are nice.”

Levi didn’t answer, but it was enough for [name] to look content. A frown formed on Levi’s face while he sat down beside [name]. He took the mug off the nightstand, which [name] didn’t even notice, and waited for the sick idiot to react. “Take a sip.”

“What’s…?”

“Ginger tea. Take. A. Sip.”

[name] chuckled like an idiot while Levi helped him sit down. Levi’s hand on his back and how he helped him take small sips brought him some type of comfort. The feeling of being taken care of was… nice, even if he knew Levi didn’t like the whole idea. Any other type of comfort in his life was Porco; he would be lying if he didn’t feel happy having someone so… caring and trustworthy around him. Knowing he was away made him sad.

“I… don’t waant mooore.”

Levi stopped without much to say, and left the mug in its previous place. He told [name] not to lay down since he could feel like vomiting again. He changed the cloth again before his hand stayed on his forehead to not let the cloth fall down. [name] opened his eyes tiredly to admire Levi. Well, what else could he do?

Levi sure was a handsome man. Or did he confess that to himself because he was not in his right mind? Well, he didn’t admit that out loud…

He felt lightminded; perhaps that’s why he felt bolder to say things.

“You are scary sometimes.” Even though the statement wasn’t a positive thing to say, [name] smiled like an idiot. “Veeeeery scary…”

Levi narrowed his eyes.

“Buut even scary, you look good!”

Levi didn’t react— not openly, at least. “And you look dumb, but that doesn’t give you any favors.”

[Name] chuckled. Levi helped him lay down again.

“I’m sleepy.”

Levi removed the cloth and rested his hand on [name]’s forehead to feel his temperature. [Name] hummed contently as he felt Levi’s cold fingers on his warm skin. Without much thought, he gently moved Levi’s fingers over his closed eyes. He felt more comfort.

“Migraine?” Levi asked.

“Hmn…” [Name] didn’t have more energy to give a detailed answer.

“I left pills on your nightstand.” Levi said, “Take some.”

“No… I’m… tired…” [name]’s eyelids felt heavier, and he couldn’t help closing them.

Levi didn’t like being contradicted, but he kept silent. Perhaps he was tired because of him, or just annoyed. He grunted but didn’t say further. The room fell into silence. Levi stared at [name]’s face, who rested quietly. As he saw nothing else bothering him, he got up and spoke loudly for [name] to hear. [name] opened his eyes tiredly when he got up from the bed.

"It's time for me to go, then." Levi was ready to leave, but he felt something pulling his hand before he began to walk away. He turned his head just to see [name] staring at him with pleading eyes, almost looking like a child scared of the dark.

"Nooo... don't leave me, please," he pleaded. "Stay with me..."

"I can't. Go to sleep."

"But, Levi, I'm scared of being alone... Please, just stay with me this time, pretty pretty please?"

Levi stared, again. With holding hands still, [name] blinked slowly with his long eyelashes, making his plea more "captivating.” Levi wanted to punch his face.

“No.”

“Pretty pleasse…” [name] tightened the grip on his hand.

Levi actually thought about it this time. Perhaps [name] was going to fall asleep, since he looked too tired. “Five minutes.” He answered before sitting down again in the same place, while ignoring how content and happy [name] stupidly looked. Silence filled the room again, but speaking wasn’t necessary for both of them this time.

After such peace, the phone rang. [Name] grunted at the interruption of his sleep, but quickly took the phone before missing the call. The frown that was plastered on his face changed to a soft smile as he answered. Levi narrowed his eyes at such change.

“Hi, Vincent.” [name] replied. “I’m good. Thank you for calling.”

What a good friend.

“It’s fine. Actually, Levi came to—”

Levi snitched the phone out of his hands. Vincent’s voice only fueled his irritation, as his worried questions were heard from the other line.

“What a nice, worried friend you are, Mr. Guard.”

Vincent didn’t answer at first. “Mr. Ackerman, good afternoon.”

Levi could notice Vincent’s change of tone. Well, the feeling was mutual.

“No need for such cute calls for your boyfriend.”

“If I’m worried about him, then I’ll call.”

Levi gritted his teeth. *“*How daring.”

Levi noticed Vincent was going to make a remark, but he shut himself up before spitting it. The ravenette smirked slightly. At least such guard knew who he was talking to. Due to the lack of an answer, Levi kept speaking.

“You asked, he answered. This is all you’ll get.”

Vincent seemed to rile himself up. "He doesn’t—” But Levi hung up before Vincent could finish. He slammed the phone with such force, that made [name] jump at the noise.

Levi stared knives at the phone, not paying attention to [name]’s stare.

“You don’t like Vincent.” [name] looked at him timidly, speaking softly. Levi did look furious at the call— but [name] was sure Vincent wasn’t the type of person to look for problems. What did make Levi so angry?

“Is that a problem for you?”

[name] frowned. It… wasn’t a problem, but he didn’t like seeing his friend— or confidant? being treated so harshly. He knew Levi could see that, but he knew how Levi acted. The people in the asylum could be really… spiteful. Either way, the reflective thoughts only soothed him—he was more than tired. Levi waited, but the question was left unanswered. Instead, it was met with soft snores coming from the idiot.

He had fallen asleep at last.

Levi glared at him—how could he be sleeping so comfortably with him in the room? Leci here, acting like a good guy only fueled his anger. There had to be a reward for this absurdity. He didn’t comprehend his own feelings—their meaning. After all, he hadn’t needed them in a long time, if ever. [name] made him repulsed by such foolish emotions.

How bitter you are.

[Name] didn’t mean to last in that place, but Erwin and four eyes sought any ways to protect him from all evil. Even so, they themselves were worse than the subjects. Levi laughed bitterly internally every time one of them couldn’t hide their desire to possess such a good-for-nothing assistant. He couldn’t understand wholly, but now he saw why. But ‘liking’ him? It wasn’t that. It was something else, but Levi still couldn’t comprehend. He should, soon enough.

Levi glanced at [name], waiting for the moment to move.

And, just when he noticed [Name] fell into a deep slumber, the devil returned.

Levi couldn't stop himself. There was just this urge.

Shifting his body slowly to not interrupt his companion's sleep, facing him. He stared at [name]'s body; how his chest moved according to his breathing, how his lips slightly opened as gentle, barely audible snores came out of his mouth—his long eyelashes, his relaxed, cute expression... only for him to see.

Levi's hand slowly moves under [name]'s shirt, gently caressing his warm stomach. He moved his touch on [name]'s waist this time, grabbing and squeezing part of the flesh not too harshly. The ravenette waited for a response, but just as he was met with silence, he continued his secret exploration in quietness. This time, he rested his head on the crock of [name]'s neck, smelling his scent. His hand explored the flesh a bit more daringly, slowly crawling his way to reach [name]'s chest, the tips of his fingers exploring the flesh cautiously.

This time [name] whimpered softly, his body shivering for one second. The ravenette waited for any other reaction or complaint, but [name] remained in his slumber with a troubled expression adorning his face.

Levi smirked.

What a reward.

[caninereg]

< waves > on my ao3, word count: 1.8k+, t&up

pairing - little!percy & caregiver!clarisse

summary - percy needs some comfort and protection, clarisse just wants to win a canoe race.

tags - post war, arguing, crying, hurt/comfort, protective clarisse, percy has self esteem issues

Percy huffs as he stares at Annabeth’s frame stalking off towards the cabins, she doesn’t look back, she never does. After any fight they have she always ends up leaving and Percy inevitably sits around to see if she turns around, just to look at him, check if he’s watching her, if he’s waiting or not.

He doesn’t even know why they fought. It was stupid. It’s usually something stupid but especially lately - with the war won and camp back on like normal this summer- there aren’t any big problems they’re dealing with. Still, him and Annabeth butt-heads no matter what, and today’s the worst of it. It’s not even lunch yet.

Taking a big breath to try and calm himself, Percy shuts his eyes and spins on his heels, doing his best not to slip into his headspace. It’s become more than inconvenient lately. Before he had Grover to watch over him at camp, but now Grover’s off with his girlfriend Juniper and Percy doesn’t want to burden him. Once or twice he went to Annabeth and she was nice about it, assuring Percy that it was fine he regressed, that it was more common in half-bloods than anyone let on- he shakes his head. There is no way in Hades he’s going to ask her for help.

“Jackson! Hello?!” A booming voice makes Percy’s eyes fly open, Clarisse is storming over to him all angry looking. Great.

“What’s your problem?” She snaps and Percy feels his eyes drop to the ground instantly. He’s definitely regressed now, crap.

“My team was this close to winning the canoe race and now everyone’s back at the start!” She motions a hand dramatically behind her and Percy can’t do anything but cringe when he follows it to see the state the beach is in.

The canoe races have been going on since this morning, each cabin getting eliminated one by one until two cabins remain and they battle it out. Ares and Hermes are the last two this year and while Percy’s sure Ares was winning, they’re not anymore. The little bit of ocean the camp uses for activities has become choppy and angry with unruly waves. The two canoes are pushed back to the very beginning of the racing point, their canoes barely staying upright with how much they sway in the water. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s Percy’s fault when the water was glass smooth five minutes ago.

“Sorry.. didn’t realize.” He mumbles and tries to calm the water but it’s only stressing his little mind out more. The waves rise and crash, nearly sending the Hermes cabins canoe crashing into the Ares canoe as the campers hold onto the sides for dear life.

“Sorry!” He yells to them and feels hot tears well in his eyes. He can’t do anything right! He’s going to ruin the race and Clarisse is going to hate him even more now!

“Woah, Percy, what’s going on?” Carefully, though not very gracefully, Clarisse wraps her hands around Percy’s wrists from where he buried his face in his hands to keep her from seeing him crying.

“I- I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to- to ruin your race..” He blubbers in a more high pitched tone than normal. Clarisse pauses in front of Percy for a moment like she’s determining the seriousness of a threat during battle. He says nothing and simply tries to sniffle back the tears he already knows she sees.

“You’re regressed, aren’t you?” It’s not said meanly or coldly but Percy freezes in place and feels his breath hitch like it was. Like he’s scared.

“Hey, hey kid, it’s fine. You’re fine. We- we can just go find Annabeth and everything will be-.”

“No! No Annabeth!” Percy says maybe too loudly as a few people from the stands of the canoe race look over, Clarisse sends them a quick warning glance and they go back to watching the kids in canoes yell at one another. Something about who pissed the Jackson kid off to make him do this… Percy isn’t a hundred percent sure what’s being said but he knows it makes him feel worse.

“Annabeth doesn’t know you’re a little? That’s surprising.” Clarisse still has her hands loosely wrapped around Percy’s wrist but she lets him shift in his ashamed state, not pushing him to answer quickly but still waiting.

“We had a fight…” His brain can’t even think up what the fight was about or what was said, aside from Annabeth yelling “Fine! You can deal with it yourself!” before finally storming off.

“Hm that’s why you slipped and you’re all stressed out.” She deduces and sighs a moment.

“Lunch is almost ready, let’s go sit early.” There’s an extra mutter under her breath about “doing this to myself” or maybe “can’t believe I’m doing this” but Percy’s happy to let her have it. They aren’t exactly best friends and even while little he can sense that.

-

They sit at the Ares table because Clarisse absolutely refuses to sit alone with only Percy at the Poseidon table, even if he is mentally a young toddler. The other Ares kids side eye him until Clarisse explains what’s going on, thankfully only loud enough for the people at the table to hear as the last thing Percy wants is to have Annabeth know what state he’s in.

“Isn’t Chiron gonna make him move?” Kaleb, one of the newer Ares kids, asks.

“Nah, he allows little’s to sit with caregiver’s on special occasions, and he knows Percy doesn’t have anyone in his cabin to take care of him.” Tyson is down in the forges which leaves Percy fully alone in the Poseidon cabin. It’s definitely lonely and especially when he’s small.

“Aren’t we supposed to hate him?” Another camper asks, one Percy can’t name, with a fork pointed in Percy’s direction accusatorially.

“We don’t hate little’s while they’re small, they can’t defend themselves properly. You can go back to hating him when he’s big again.” Clarisse assures and Percy can’t help his frown and small whimper.

“Oh don’t worry Waves, we won’t do anything drastic.” A hand ruffles Percy’s hair and he allows himself to relax again. Clarisse isn’t nearly as gentle or nervous as Grover, or as clinical with things as Annabeth, but she’s fun and Percy feels lucky she’s being nice to him.

“Waves?” He suddenly questions and must say it slightly wrong because Clarisse and the others grin but try to hide it.

“New nickname for you, y’know cause of the waves you caused.”

As if on cue, the two Ares campers that were in the canoe come running up the hill towards the table. Their hair and clothes are wet but they’re grinning wildly and nearly slam into the table with how fast the barrel up the hill.

“We won! Whatever you did made us win! I mean we got soaked but Herems cabin is defeated!” The boys high-five and laugh. Percy only feels confused, why would they be wet if they won?

“If you won why are you dripping on my chicken?” Kaleb snarls and curls an arm protectively around his plate of chicken wings and fries.

“Well there was this massive wave that pushed us straight to the finish line! Hermes cabin tried to say it was cheating but even Chiron agreed that there’s nothing in the rules that said getting help from the waves is against the rules.” Did Percy do that? He hadn’t meant to but.. he hadn’t meant to cause the rocky waters in the first place.

“Hm maybe you are useful to have around.” The same kid who had a fork pointed at Percy five seconds ago smirks. Percy has the urge to hide away in Clarisse’s side at the comment but thinks better of it and simply shuffles a little closer.

“He’s more useful than you’ve been Derek.” Clarisse must notice Percy’s discomfort as she quickly curls an arm around his shoulders and gives an icy look towards who Percy now knows is Derek.

“Oh whatever. I don’t get why you didn’t just dump him at the Apollo table and make him their problem, they like fixing broken shit. We’re not babysitters y’know.” The words are meant to slice into Percy and while he knows that, it doesn’t really hit him that hard, he’s too regressed to understand what it fully means.

“Broken- what-? you wanna see broken!?” Clarisse shifts to lean over the table and tries to grab hold of Derek’s shirt but he’s standing and walking off before she can with a muttered reply.

“Don’t listen to him, you’re more badass than he’ll ever be.” One of the still dripping Ares kids chimes in and slides into the empty spot now in front of Percy. He focuses on that instead of Clarisse mumbling out orders to the kid next to her- he’s never been taken care of by Clarisse but he doubts she’s about to let that Derek guy get away with talking to him like that.

“I dunno what he really meant.” He got the whole “you’re broken” and not being babysitters thing, but why would the Apollo kids want him around? Do they fix broken things? Are they known to watch over little’s? He doesn’t know.

“You’ll know when you’re big again. I’m telling you now that it’s not true. I don’t know what his problem is.” Clarisse has her arm around Percy again as she reaches to manually tear chicken off the bone on Percy’s plate. Neither of them have touched their food yet, Percy not trusting himself to not make a mess, and Clarisse waiting to see what Percy did before she cut his food up or not. Apparently she’s decided enough time has passed for her to make the decision.

“Why don’t people like me?” He finds himself asking and instantly regretting.

Everyone at the Ares table pauses and stares, not at him, but at Clarisse. She continues to rip pieces of chicken smaller and smaller for a few moments before letting out a deep sigh. It’s like the sky gets darker as the silence stretches on longer and Percy once again feels tears welling in his eyes. He shouldn’t have said that, he’s so stupid!

“Plenty of people like you and the ones who don’t aren’t important. You’re braver than a lot of people here, you’ve been through a lot and you’re allowed to cope. Even if we don’t always get along, I’ll always step in and take care of you when you need me to.” With a soft tone Percy has only heard once before - back when Chris was tied up in the basement of the Big House and Clarisse was pleading with him to be okay- Clarisse looks Percy right in the eyes and speaks with all the seriousness of the world.

“Now eat up kiddo.” She redirects the entire table to eating again and Percy takes some chicken in his hands to chew on, leaning his head against Clarisse’s chest in thanks.

-

And if Percy sees Derek being chased by Clarisse and the group of Ares kids that were at the table with swords later that night when he’s big again, well that’s none of his business.