#he's....an odd puzzle piece to place

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

Why do certain coworkers have to get you so annoyed with them without even trying, and they don't realize how annoying/obnoxious they are?? Or worse, they KNOW how annoying they are but don't seem to care cause they find it funny?

It's like the silence and neutral expressions aren't enough of a hint that I don't think you're funny and you should just stop while you still have your dignity...

Longer rant in the tags cause it's a lot.

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, dehumanization, dollification, patronization, condescension

♡ FEM reader

This is his playroom. It’s got puzzle-piece foam flooring and is filled to the brim with all sorts of different toys—including you. He’s got stuffed animals, pretty dolls, toy soldiers, Lego builds, and a gaming station with all types of fun—and parental safety restrictions, of course, no talking to strangers for you. Your controller is a pretty baby pink, and his a cool camo-green. But today, they’re left on the floor, untouched.

Because today, he only wants to play with you.

“You’re gonna be so pretty…” His voice is as grating as always—synthetically childish, making you grit your teeth. Sitting with you between his legs before the mirror, working diligently.

You look at the floor to avoid your reflection.

He’d gotten you a brand new baby-blue dress and painted you himself—done your eyelids up in matching clear skies, black lashes moth-like and fluttery, cheeks a rosy pink, and lips a sheer gloss extra plump and pretty—no need for tint—you bite them so cutely, they’re already his favorite color. Your hair’s done up in curls and ringlets, so bouncy and soft, beribboned with plentiful white bows.

“This color suits you so well. Makes you look like a cake-topper. Bite-sized. I could eat you right up.” He hums behind you, fiddling with the many intricacies, doing them up perfectly—no rush.

Looking up, the person staring back at you looks no different from a life-sized porcelain doll. Pristine, mint condition, fit to be put behind glass. In your frilly dress, petticoat and stockings. Just like Alice down the rabbit hole.

The only thing that betrays the illusion is the leather collar on your throat and the chain running from it to the middle of the floor. But no matter.

He’s got a giddy smile on his face— chest swelled with pride at his work. You’re his most prized possession. You really are! There isn’t a single toy in this room that can compete with you.

He’s not wearing anything special to match. Bedhead, undressed, still in his pajama pants. Why wouldn’t he be? This is his playroom, after all—his downtime—where he can be a boy with his toy. Though, calling him a boy isn’t exactly right—what with him being nearly in his thirties. Not to mention that he’s about two heads taller than you, with abs like an athlete, toned and chiseled and hard to the touch, hard enough to strain your wrists when he bears down on you. Oh, and that thing in his pants.

You bite your tongue and steal yourself. It would be easy to cry, but he only gets weirder about it then. So you stifle it, even though you look so stupid you want to act like an animal. Tear the dress to shreds and rub your makeup into a mess—scream, bite, spit on him. You’d done all that once before to no avail other than punishments that still keep you up at night. Once was enough. He didn’t play nice with you.

But then again, when does he ever?

“Hmm, think I’m done…” he announces after having dallied with the lace of your corset for a quarter-hour—it’s so tight you have to appreciate every breath. “Time to have some fun.”

He treats you no different from a doll either. Scooping you up into his arms like an inanimate object and carrying off to the princess bed—the one that looks like a girl’s birthday cake with a veil on top, and mountains of pillows all too soft.

He places you down on top of the duvet and it seems to swallow you like an ocean. He dives after, covering you like a fishnet. You take a final breath before he can drown, your hand on his chest, holding him at a distance.

“I was thinking, uhm…” you start, the words coming out odd, barely recognizable as your voice—only noticing now how long it had been since you’d spoken last. “I was…” you restart, but it’s still no easier. His eyes are large and unblinking, staring down at you as though he’s just as surprised as you are to found out you speak. “Hoping we could play… a little differently this time?”

He blinks at the request, having fallen completely still above you.

“Really? How?” The suddenness of his words make you flinch. You don’t know what you had expected—maybe a smile and something dismissive. It had been a while since he’d spoken directly to you like that—and not to himself in absentminded comments about you.

You recover some time, seeing him stare down at you all expectantly in wait. He follows when you guide him into sitting instead of looming over you, putting yourself in his lap—straddling him. “Mh, like this. Maybe?”

It’s a gamble. He’d never had you on top before, nor ever shown an interest in it. Setting aside the time you’d been sprawled on your belly over his thighs, his hand riddled in your hair and his other hand branding your ass with his very own toy company logo.

His expression is unreadable—perhaps a little confused if you were to take a guess.

“Oh!” he erupts with a smile you hope is the good sort. “You mean I play the toy and you the master?” He laughs brightly, falling on his back with a hand over his face, cackling through his fingers as though it were the most absurd proposal he’d ever heard.

But despite his obvious amusement, you still feel it—his toy poking into you from beneath.

He settles after a moment. “Alright then, why not?” Looking up at you—his hair a tousled mess splayed upon the bed, eyes as gleeful as the quirk on his lips. “Who knows… it could be fun.”

He props his arms behind his head, lounging comfortably.

“I did call you a cake-topper, after all,” he snickers. “I’ll lie perfectly still, like a good toy, while you play with me. Sound good?”

You can’t believe how open he was to it. Still a little apprehensive, you nod your head.

And then the game begins…

He doesn’t exactly stay true to his word. But you suppose that would be too much to ask. His head still rests pretty on the pillow with his eyes closed, smiling in satisfaction—for now, sated with your performance. Groaning in absentminded bliss, “You’re right. This is fun~”

But he hadn’t stayed perfectly still like he’d said. He’d reached out when you’d finally begun riding and now his arms keep you snug against his chest, fine-pressed sweaty skin against your frilly bust, more in a lock than a hug. It makes it kind of difficult to do what he wants, but you try your best—knees and toes planted in the mattress for stability as you jerk your hips on his lap. It’s awkward, but riding him like this is still better than the alternative, after all.

You keep your arms around the back of his neck, resting your face in the cradle it creates beneath his chin, panting lowly—eyes closed in focus away from the pain, brows tight with your tongue between your teeth, trying to maintain the rhythm despite the blossoming ache that’s started to spread from your hips down your thighs—another ill sting in the small of your back crawling up your spine. It’s hard staying bent over like this, and your movements are turning sluggish…

There’s a sigh from above you, pitchy and just awful. “Aww, is it really time already?” he whines—previous satisfaction dwindling—bordering on something else entirely now, the opposite and so much worse—boredom with a hint of disappointment—a spoiled child with a toy that’s run out of battery.

You shake your head, burying your face in his neck and tightening your grip, stealing yourself with newfound strength to maintain the tempo you had before while muffling out a desperate, “No, I can keep going—”

He lets out another sound, this time in thought. “Hmm...” It doesn’t give you much confidence—how lax a sound it is—as if he isn’t even close to being spent yet. “I don’t know… You’re so slow. I’m gonna get soft if this is all you got, y’know?”

He starts moving—sitting up. He takes his own hold on your hips, and you know what that means. And you can’t handle being played with, not when he damn near breaks you each and evert time.

“No, wait! I can keep going, please, just a little longer?” you insist, both palms pushed flat on his chest with your round eyes looking at him hopelessly in plead for a second chance—even though you know he isn’t one with the patience to give you one.

He stares blankly back, big-eyed in surprise at your outburst. Though still not convinced it would be worth humoring you. If he was being honest, he’d enjoyed it more than he thought he would but had now had his fill and wanted to take charge as usual and finish the job. However…

Oh, you’re being so uncharacteristically cute today—and that pathetic look of desperation on your face is truly something else…

He smiles deceptively softly, so brightly it reaches his eyes. He very nearly looks innocent like that, but you know him too well—so well that the sight of his lips curling gives you nothing but a churning stomach.

“Okay then, doll. You convinced me.”

Suppose it doesn’t hurt letting you have your way sometimes. You have been on very good behavior lately, after all. He ought to reward you.

“I’ll be your toy a little longer.” He murmurs with a lazy smirk, nose-kissing you—patronizing, as though he’s doing you a big favor.

It doesn’t grant you any peace, and neither does the way he keeps his hold on your hips, rubbing smooth circles into the fat leisurely, letting you know he wouldn't be removing them—it serves as some type of encouragement as you start moving again.

It’s easier now when you’re upright. Holding his shoulders, you can jump rather than buck—up and down, up and down, up and down—it’s simple enough. Or it was for a moment, at least, before he planted your hips down.

“Not like that,” he shakes his head softly. “Like this.” He moves you after his will, wanting you to grind instead—putting you back in square one.

Your movement staggers, and you mask a wince with a moan—fuck, your muscles are so sore, maintaining this movement is enough to make your loins scream, feeling all but set on fire.

With one hand keeping you seated, the other takes hold of your leash and pulls you in close, his lips on the dew of your rouge-dusted cheek—you feel the grin, and like prey threatened by a hunter’s teeth, you shiver in respect of it. “Come on, dolly, ride or die, faster,” he simpers, voice laced with mockery and amusement.

Your thighs are shaking now, tightened up in anguish, begging for a break—soon to take it without your permission. How much you can take reaches a point, and everything goes slack not a second too soon.

“And now you’re done,” he snickers hotly under his breath, planting a kiss on the side of your glossy lips while you exhaustedly and gingerly take your break with a feeling of defeat. He speaks low, and you dread every eerie lick of his words, “My turn to play.”

You want to protest, but you know it’s no use. He’d made up his mind now, and challenging it any further would only turn you into a nuisance—toys are supposed to enjoy being played with, after all—best take it with grace and shut up before he reminds you.

He flips the both of you around with ease, reclaiming his spot—on top. He loves you like this, splayed out beneath him like a puppet—just waiting to have all your strings pulled.

It was good while it lasted, you think—maybe if you get better, you can make him finish and not have to endure what comes next.

“Don’t pout, dolly—that was fun,” he kisses you lips as they start to tremble. “But you suit being my toy so much better.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo ♡ HQ – Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[br0kenangel]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

The Red Keep's garden was a haven of peace, its vibrant blooms and lush greenery basking in the warm embrace of the afternoon sun. You sat on a stone bench beneath a pergola, a book open in your lap. The pages fluttered slightly in the breeze, but your attention was divided between the words and the laughter of the children playing nearby.

Aegon and Aemond were chasing each other around. Little Daeron, still unsteady on his feet, toddled after them, his giggles rising each time he stumbled and was helped up by his brothers. Your heart warmed at the sight, a tender smile curving your lips. These were the moments you cherished most—when the weight of court life melted away, leaving only the simple joys of your children.

Beside you, Helaena sat cross-legged on the grass, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight. She was engrossed in watching a beetle crawl across her palm, her violet eyes following its every movement with a kind of dreamy fascination. Helaena had always been different—her mind seemed to wander in places others couldn’t follow, and her words often carried an unsettling weight, as if she were speaking from another world.

“Do you like your new friend?” you asked, closing your book and watching Helaena with affection.

Helaena glanced up, a faint smile on her lips. “He’s searching,” she said softly, her tone faraway. “But he doesn’t know what he’s looking for… not yet.”

You chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Helaena’s ear. “Perhaps he’ll find it soon.”

Helaena’s gaze shifted to Aegon, her expression growing more serious. “He will,” she murmured. “But when he does, it will be heavy… heavier than he can bear.”

You frowned slightly, your heart skipping a beat at the odd phrasing. “What do you mean, sweetling?”

Helaena’s eyes, still fixed on the Aegon, seemed to see something beyond the present. “The sun will wear a crown,” she said, “But the crown will burn, and the throne will weep.” her voice low and melodic. “It’s made of thorns, and every rose has its price.”

The cryptic words sent a chill through you. Helaena often spoke in riddles, but this one felt different, more ominous. “A crown of thorns?” you echoed, trying to decipher the meaning. “What kind of price?”

“He will lose a part of himself, stolen by the shadows,” Helaena answered. She turned her gaze back to the beetle, her fingers lightly tracing its path. “The moon will pay the price in blood,” she whispered, almost as if to herself. “He will close an eye to gain a flame. A shadow will fall where the moon once shone, and he will see the world through only one eye.”

Your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of the riddle. “Helaena, what are you talking about? Who will lose an eye?”

Helaena looked up at you, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of clarity in her violet eyes. “And the star… he's the brightest, but he will be dead before his time” she continued, her voice tinged with sorrow, “The star will fall far from home, he will shine brightly before he falls, where no one can hear his cries. The sky will mourn, and the ground will drink his tears.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The words were like pieces of a puzzle, each one pointing to a grim fate for the children you loved so dearly. The sun—the moon—the star… You didn’t need their names to understand whom Helaena was speaking of.

“Helaena,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, “how do you know these things?”

But Helaena had already retreated back into her own world, her attention once again focused on the beetle. “The dreams,” she whispered, “but no one listens until it's too late.”

You felt a wave of cold fear wash over you. Helaena wasn’t just a child with strange thoughts—she was seeing the future, though her visions were veiled in riddles that most would dismiss as nonsense.

Most, but not you.

You gently took Helaena’s hands in your own, your voice soft but urgent. “Sweetling, please… tell me more. What do the riddles mean? What can we do?”

Helaena looked up at you, her eyes distant once more. “You can’t change the wind,” she said quietly. “It will blow as it wishes. But… the lioness can shield her cubs from the storm, if she’s strong enough.”

You pulled Helaena into a tight embrace, your heart aching with a mix of love and fear. “I’ll protect you all,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to Helaena’s forehead. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Helaena rested her head against your shoulder, her small arms wrapping around you. “The darkness is coming,” she murmured, “The lioness is strong.” she murmured, her voice muffled against your dress. “But the storm is stronger.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you held Helaena close, the girl’s cryptic words echoing in your mind. You glanced over at your sons, who were still playing, oblivious to the dark future Helaena had glimpsed.

For now, all you could do was hold them close and prepare for the storm that Helaena had foretold. You would be their shield, even if the dragons themselves came to tear them apart.

“Everything will be alright,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Helaena. “I promise.”

Part 1 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[allurilove]

A day in the life as Henry

Synopsis: Henry hated his father and his friends. He hated it even more when you left on a trip, and he was now stuck with four men that knew nothing on how to take care of a tyrant-like toddler, like him.

*This is just a short drabble of Henry! Henry is the readers child, and he’s the son of yandere husband! The new yandere fic will come out around thursday, and this is something I made on the spot lol.*

Henry found it odd when he was fed his favorite foods two nights in a row. He hadn’t seen a single broccoli in sight, or even that horrendous cabbage salad his father forced him to eat. It was all delicious fish with skin cooked to a crisp, then slathered in the green sauce made with fresh herbs. He was even allowed to eat whatever he wanted at any given time. It was slightly suspicious behavior, and he started to look back at the times he had done something good.

Let's see... he made a fuss when his father bathed him, cried when his father tried to joke around with him and put suds on his hair, and Henry ran around the house butt naked because he refused to put on his little star onesie. But, he did help his mother when she was gardening. One good thing he did for his mother completely outweighed all the bad with his father. So, they must have been rewarding him for being a good boy.

He opened his mouth when you fed him his favorite dessert next, and the moment he tasted the sweet applesauce, he gulped it down. He was too busy savoring the flavor to notice the look you shared with his father.

Henry rubbed his tired eyes as he finally woke up. He felt like he had been sleeping for hours and hours without end, and his body refused to get up. Henry hadn’t eaten this much before, but then he remembered his parents had used the same tactics before, and he had woken up at the doctor’s office. He couldn’t exactly say no to food, as you made it with love each time! You had definitely done this on purpose, and he was upset that he had fallen for it, and gotten into a food coma.

Damnit! He’s been bested, again!

Henry pushed the covers off him, his feet then landing on the ground as he pushed himself off his bed. He then huffed and puffed as he ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. The toddler was about to give his father a piece of his mind and make him feel guilty for getting his guard down. He wondered what was going to happen this time. Was he going to the hospital? Was he about to be replaced by that damn dog his father had been ogling for the past week? He reached the corner and saw a little glimpse of your suitcase walking out of the door. His eyes widened immediately, his brain finally putting the last piece of the puzzle together, and it felt like his whole world came crashing down.

You whispered in his father's ear all the time when Henry was around, your eyes glued to the computer screen, and when he swore he saw you buying plane tickets, you denied the allegations. You lied to him. You teamed up with his worst enemy (his father) and betrayed him.

You were leaving.

The child couldn't believe it! He knew his father needed you as much as he did, and there he was, letting you freely walk out of the house without a single look back! How could you be so heartless? He had expected that type of behavior from his dad, but not from you.

“Nooooo!” Henry whined as he rushed up to the now closed front door. He heard the lock slide into place and started to bang his fists on the wood. “Come back! You forgot to bring me with you!"

How was he supposed to survive with just his father to rely on? Who was he supposed to cuddle at night? Surely, you didn’t expect him to hug a man whose body was hard as stone and who barely had the decency to pat his back to help him go to sleep! His father paled in comparison to you. There was no competition anyway; you were number one in Henry's eyes.

Even though you told Henry to never swear again, he felt like his whole body was about to explode into exploitatives!

“You big fat poopy jerk!” Henry cursed as he started to tug at his father’s hair. It had only been a single day since you left, and he was already on edge. He had been fighting with his father since that morning, refusing to listen to anything he had to say. It all felt irrelevant. The only person Henry really listened to was the person who had just walked out of his life!

"Henry, please!" his father tried to hold the toddler back, but Henry's hands kept grabbing at any hair he could reach. Using his thumb and index finger, Henry pulled on his father's eyebrows for good measure, even twisting them and plucking a couple of strands.

"Ow! That hurts!" the older man winced at his own son's grubby hands. “Get him off, get him off!” yandere husband roared in pain.

Yandere husband's friends stood there in shock from the petulant display. They had never seen a toddler so feisty like Henry, and they didn't know what to do. Their eyes followed them as the two started to tussle in the living room. Henry's toys were still scattered about, and yandere husband tripped on one of the trucks. He howled in pain as the hard plastic object jabbed into his shin. Henry continued to squirm and kick, his face red with frustration. His determination to defy his father was unmatched, fueled by a mix of anger and sadness from your departure.

"Applesauce! Bring me the damn applesauce!"

It took four packets to calm Henry down, and with each sip, yandere husband could see his son's eyelids start to droop. Yandere husband groaned and rubbed his face to soothe the aching feeling, and soon he heard his son happily snoring away.

Henry had spent the rest of the week begrudgingly warming up to the fact that he was stuck with his father and his little group. He woke up, rubbed his eyes, and finally slept in his own room for once. His father came by around 8 am, and Henry let the man pick him up, resting his cheek on his father's shoulder. Henry was then placed into his highchair, where he watched as the four men tried to fulfill his needs.

One man was gently wiping the crumbs off Henry's face, another scooped up the peas on his plate and fed them to him, and a third fanned the kid as the temperature started to rise, while his father cooked the rest of his meal. Henry preferred this treatment, being doted on as if he were royalty.

After he finished breakfast, his father brought him back to his room and picked out his outfit for the day: a Polo Bear Cotton Jersey Tee paired with his trusty blue overalls. His father then combed his hair with his fingers, applying a bit of gel here and there, followed by applying sunscreen. And of course, his father couldn't help himself and gently pinched at his chubby cheeks.

Henry and his father went to the park, where kids around his age liked to play. The toddler mostly played on his own as he wasn't ready to socialize yet. Plus, it was scary to put himself out there. Deep down, Henry was terrified of a lot of things. He picked up his tiny purple shovel, digging away at the sand, and he noticed a shadow appeared above him. He expected it to be his dad, but the silhouette was too small. Henry slowly lifted his head, his brow quirked when he noticed a girl staring at him. She carried a green sandcastle bucket in her hand and seemed mostly interested in the shovel Henry was using.

She hadn't said anything, but Henry could tell she wanted it. His shovel was pretty cool. It wasn't a plain beach toy, it had glitter on the handle, and it was in the shape of a crocodile. Unsure of what else to do, Henry handed her the shovel. Her hand reached out eagerly to take it.

"Um… would you like to play with me?" Henry asked tentatively, his heart thumping as he hoped he wouldn't be rejected. His eyes quickly glanced down, and his face turned a light shade of pink. He felt almost embarrassed to even ask that question.

"Sure," the girl in front of him nonchalantly shrugged, sitting down next to him. "Would you like to build sandcastles with me?" She had a slight teasing smile on her face, her posture relaxed and carefree as she already picked up a good amount of sand with his shovel.

"Sure!" :)

[spitdrunken]

HIAHA I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE MR SCARLETELLA CAN YOU WRITE MORE. so odd and unsettling and obscene m just giggling with delight

HIIII thank you so much for the high praise <3 this has kind of a different vibe from the last one but plays with similar-esque concepts!!!! this is 'weird and obscene' LMAO

Notes: Suggestive, mild body horror, bolded = dialogue in the Other World's language.

==========================

How do you touch a man without a physical form? Or, you suppose, 'man' isn't quite the correct term. 'Apparition' would perhaps best describe him. Though he can reach out to you and make you feel the illusion of touch, you can't actually make contact with him. Your hand passes through him as if he were nothing but air.

You don't think he minds. It's always a bit hard to tell, with him. Mr. Scarletella ususally just stares you down with a dead look, communication relatively limited. But you would like to touch him! So you experiment a little, an action for which no mutually intelligible word exists. Still, he doesn't move as you poke and prod at different parts of his body, coming up short every single time.

You crouch down before poking at his ankle, just in case. When you look up, your heart stops for just a moment. Mr. Scarletella's neck is snapped back, folded in on itself in order to observe you. Vacant-seeming eyes are trained on your every movement. The sight makes you feel squeamish. "God... Not do," you tell him. "Head look hurt. Not funny." There's no other way you can think of to put it. You get up and stick your hand down, waving your hand in the other direction at the side of his head. He seems to understands what you mean, as his skull snaps back in its usual direction. You circle around him. "Sorry. Not want upset you." He says, although you know he'll never really listen or learn, not when it comes to these things. "Me like you. You like me." As if you'd ever forget. You beckon him. Rather than simply leaning down, his form flickers, distorting, before reappearing in the desired position. There's just one place you haven't touched yet. Once again, you extend your hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against the top of his umbrella. The surface is smooth to the touch and wets your skin, accompanied by a small burst of static ringing in your ears. It takes a moment for the significance to register. "Oh! I can touch your umbrella!" You say, forgetting the Other World's language in excitement over your discovery. Even though it's relatively small. You can't touch Mr. Scarletella himself, but the umbrella appears to be 'realer' than the rest of him. ...Actually, maybe the umbrella is a part of his body? He's not human, after all. He doesn't have to exist according to your logic. Your brow furrows. The puzzle pieces of language move in your mind, until they're slotted together semi-coherently. You point at his arm. "Arm you." Then, you do the same for his leg. "Leg you." You wave your arm up and down. "Body you." Finally, you lift your hand in the direction of the umbrella. "Object you? Me can touch object. Touch you?" Mr. Scarletella's smile widens. It reveals a little bit of the void that stretches on behind his lips. "I see. Correct. Object me. Object is..." After which he lowers his umbrella and says a word you haven't heard before. You try to repeat it, and he says it once again, pointing the umbrella in your direction. "Touch umbrella. I want."

It's definitely... Weird. It's genuinely like touching an umbrella. Cold and smooth and slightly wet. But Mr. Scarletella wanted you to do it, and you're kind of intrigued yourself, so you do it. Because there's clearly something happening. As you trace your fingers over the outer canopy, making sure to at least touch every panel a little bit, his visible form starts to flicker and fade. When you apply a bit more pressure, move a little faster, parts of him start to distort and change colour. His arm appears a little dislodged from his shoulder, static rising in the background.

When you pinch one of the metal tips in between your fingers and rub it, he lets out a laugh that is far more high-pitched than you would've expected it to sound like. Clearly, there's some kind of link between the umbrella and the rest of himself. Though you can't envision what it must be like, he's feeling something. Your hand pauses. In the blink of an eye, Mr. Scarletella has materialised even closer to you, nose close enough to touch yours, if it could. The inky darkness of his pupils makes up most of what you can see.

"Me like. Like like like like." He sounds breathy despite not breathing. "Touch more. Again. Me want you."

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 DRIVE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: against all odds, you come across dazai osamu again, and you somehow find yourself roped into being his date for an event celebrating the armed detective agency. you're not falling. you swear. (you're lying). {wordcount: 9.2k; fem!reader, sfw, romance}

AUTHOR'S NOTES part 2 is hereeeeee! i hope you guys enjoy, this scene had one of my favs to write so i hope you like it too!! reblogs definitely appreciated!! i’ll reblog with the taglist as soon as it decides to show on the dash & in the tags!

SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B

“We really need to stop meeting like this.”

You aren’t sure how you feel as you stare at the man hanging upside down, tangled in a tapestry—amused, concerned, partly puzzled, a combination of all three really. Dazai Osamu looks half out of it as his gaze focuses on you; you wonder how long he’s been hanging like this, and how he managed to get in this position in the first place. 

For the second time in two weeks, the man manages to catch you off guard, this time on your way home from a date that had gone horribly, horribly wrong with a classmate; you’d already spent the past two hours wandering the streets upset over all of this and you were ready to get home, but now you find yourself hesitating.

“Ah, my sweet, sweet belladonna, my lovely savior,” Dazai sighs, directing a quick, flirty smile toward you. “Won’t you help a poor, suffering man?” 

“How did you manage this, Dazai?” you ask, letting the entertainment slip into your tone to distract yourself from the stress of the failed date as you look around and try to figure out the best way to get him down from where he’s entangled. You’d have to climb up onto the nearby dumpster to get enough reach to cut him down but you don’t even have anything to cut him down with. 

“I tried to jump off that building,” he sighs, and you follow his gaze up to the tall building right to the left of the two of you. Your lips part in shock, you suppose you should have figured something like that because how else would he end up tangled upside down in a tapestry, but it’s still jarring to hear. “But I hit this on the way down and got stuck. I’ve been here for way too long, so many people have passed me by without helping—what a cruel, cruel world.”

“You are either the luckiest or unluckiest man alive,” you murmur, catching sight of a jagged piece of metal underneath the dumpster, picking it up and doing your best to climb onto it, but it’s difficult in heels and a dress. “Why are you so intent on dying?”

“Why are you so intent on living?” Dazai hits you with a question back instead of responding, peering up at you as he slowly spins in the air while you do your best to cut through the thick tapestry. 

You frown at the question, brows furrowing. “Because I have things I still need to accomplish. Goals to achieve. Don’t you?” 

“The only goal I need to achieve is finding a beautiful lady to do a double suicide with,” Dazai says, lips curling up into another charming smile but the effects of it are diminished because of the way he was still hanging upside down, spinning in slow circles. “Would you like to join me, bella?”

“Maybe in fifty years,” you say dryly. 

“I’ll-”

Dazai doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you finally cut through the tapestry and he tumbles down head first to the ground. You bite back a smile as he lets out a loud yelp, crumpling on the ground in an unceremonious heap. You lower yourself back down to the ground, eyes settling on him as you watch him push himself into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head. 

He looks up at you through his lashes, the charming smile on his lips a bit more lazy and casual as he looks over you. “My, aren’t you dressed pretty? What’s the occasion?” As you prepare to give a bullshit excuse, he holds up his hand and says: “Wait! Let me guess. A long day of work and no one to go out with after, so you decided to get all dressed up and walk around the city to see if fate would lead you to someone, and since our fingers are tied by that thin red thread, naturally, you were led right to me. Oh, my fated, no wonder I’ve evaded death so easily despite so many attempts, destiny refused to let me die as we’re predestined to be together.”

You stare at him, watching as he presses the back of his hand to his forehead, tilting his head back because what the fuck?

“I was on a date,” you say, ignoring the entire rest of what he said to answer his question, truthfully at that because his whole tirade about destiny and fate had thrown you off. 

Dazai wilts, but then straightens up again and says, “Well, it couldn’t have been a good one if he didn’t at least walk you home.”

You grimace. “I think I should be insulted by how pleased you look at my night being ruined,” you mutter, holding your hand out to him to help him up. 

Dazai places his hand in yours; long, thin fingers wrapped around your hand as you help him to his feet. He doesn’t let go immediately, nor does he back away, brown eyes lidded as he looks down at you, so close that your clothes were brushing his. The corner of his lips tilt up, his fingertips grazing your inner wrist. “How about we make the most of a ruined night then?”

You raise your eyebrows—you think you should get back to your apartment, get some work done to make up for how much of a mess the night had turned out, but you find yourself hesitating because do you really want to go wallow alone now? 

“How do you plan we do that?” you ask instead of giving him an answer, although he evidently takes it as an answer considering his face lights up at your words.

“Come on,” he says, tugging your arm as he turns to make his way down the sidewalk, dragging you along with him. “I’ll show you someplace.”

“O-okay,” you fumble over your words in surprise, but it isn’t like Dazai is giving you much of a choice considering the way he’s pulling you along with him. 

Your face feels hot when you notice the people still prowling the streets shooting the two of you odd looks—Dazai doesn’t seem to care, focusing on getting you to whatever destination he has planned, but you can feel their eyes burning into you with every step you take. 

“Ignore them,” Dazai says, as if he can read your thoughts. He tosses his head over his shoulder as he looks at you, the corner of his lips curling up into another lazy smile that makes your breath catch. “They don’t know how to have fun.”

“Yeah,” is all you reply with, a bit doubtfully as you turn your gaze up to the dark skies, where the dark clouds you had noticed earlier in the day are now gathered over the city. “It’s going to rain.”

Dazai only raises his eyebrows, face riddled with disbelief as he turns fully to look at you, walking backwards without a care in the world as he forces people to walk around him. “Now, you care about rain?” he asks, referring to your first meeting.

You let out a puff of laughter. “I guess you have a point.”

“Naturally,” he says, teeth gleaming beneath the streetlamps as his grin widens. “I’m one of the Agency’s sharpest detectives, after all.”

“How humble,” you note, but your voice is light, teasing, and you’re almost embarrassed. 

Dazai is unbothered by your playful dig, spinning back around to turn down the sidewalk onto a busier street, carelessly pulling you along with him and causing people to swerve around the two of you. You try to fumble out apologies as people shoot the two of you dirty looks but Dazai barely gives you enough time to speak the words as he continues down the street. 

“Have you heard?” Dazai asks, returning to walking backward so he can look at you, garnering even more angry looks. “We’re heroes now.”

You have heard, of course, it’s all over the news. You hadn’t been in Yokohama when everything happened, you were visiting a friend outside of the city, but you’d seen it all going down on the TV as it was happening. And naturally, it’s impossible to avoid all of the news articles honoring the Armed Detective Agency and their part in taking down the threat to the city afterward.

“I have,” you drawl, and then add after a moment’s hesitation: “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating instead of…”

Instead of trying to kill yourself.

“This is me celebrating,” Dazai says mournfully, so casually that it takes you aback as he tilts his head back in grief. “It was supposed to be successful this time.”

“Well…” You aren’t sure what to say to that, the words dying on your lips as the first raindrops begin to fall from the sky. “I’m glad it wasn’t successful,” you finally decide upon, averting your gaze as Dazai’s face shifts into one of surprise as he looks down at you.

His lips part as if to say something, but seems to decide against it, instead letting a smile slip onto his face as he says: “Speaking of celebrations, my sweet belladonna, this hero needs a date to the celebratory event that the government is hosting for us in two weeks. Join me?”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, as the rain begins to come down harder—a flash flood, you realize. You watch as people start scattering around you, running for cover, but you and Dazai remain standing in the middle of the sidewalk, him awaiting your answer and you trying to figure out how to politely say you’d rather die than go to a celebratory event with people you don’t know.

You wonder if Dazai suspects your answer because he does not, in fact, give you the chance to speak.

Your eyes widen as he tugs you closer to him. “What’re you doing?” you stutter over your words as his free hand finds your hip and he spins the two of you around recklessly, forcing several people to dodge again as they run past the two of you and into a store to wait for the sudden rain to pass. Only his firm grip on you keeps you from slipping on the puddles forming on the sidewalk beneath the two of you. “Dazai!” 

“Dancing,” is all he replies with, eyes shining as he lifts his arm to twirl you beneath it, your heels splashing in a puddle as he drags you along with his dance like a puppet. “It’s supposed to be romantic—dancing in the rain—I’ve seen it in movies, are you romanced, yet?” 

You aren’t sure what makes you want to laugh, maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation or the way Dazai keeps having to blink away the raindrops that fall into his eyes, but before you know it, you're biting your lower lip to withhold the giggles rising through your chest. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Dazai gasps in mock offense as he spins you outward once. You nearly trip over your heels but before you can, he’s spinning you back toward him, arm wrapping around your waist as he dips you down. “And here I was thinking I was doing a good job romancing you.”

His voice drops an octave as he lowers his voice, dark eyes searching yours, and you think that there’s absolutely nothing romantic about this. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, his hair is wet and matted against his forehead, dripping in your face as he hangs over you, you can feel his breath fanning against your lips and his body heat radiating against yours. Lightning webs across the sky above him, illuminating his face in a way that has your breath catching. You’re in heels and a dress and you can so easily trip and break your ankle, it’s only his hold on you preventing that from happening. It’s dangerous, and stupid—and maybe it’s a little romantic.

“I-”

You aren’t even able to get the admission from your lips because as soon as you begin to speak, someone slams into Dazai from behind. You yelp and his eyes widen as he stumbles forward, twisting the two of you around so he takes the brunt of the fall. He hits the ground hard with an ‘oof,’ half in the muddy grass and half on the sidewalk, and you fall on top of him, lips parted in shock.

“Well,” Dazai finally says after a few moments of stunned silence. “This is distinctly less romantic.”

And you laugh. Unable to hold it back now, you burst into laughter—hands braced on his chest, body flush against his, there’s mud splattered across his face and you’re pretty sure your makeup must be running down your cheeks from the rain. You think that your heels are probably ruined and you’d have to spend hours getting the stains out of your dress, but you laugh because you can’t remember the last time you actually had fun and weren’t stressed about school and the future, and your night had been going so horribly that you’d lost any hope of it taking a turn for the better. You might’ve been crying a bit too, you aren’t sure why, but it’s raining so you hope that he doesn’t notice.

You notice Dazai’s eyebrows lift a bit in surprise before his face seems to soften, a small smile tugging at his lips as he lets his head fall back against the mud.

“So,” he says, “about that date?”

“Nobody believes I have a date for the event,” Dazai complains two weeks later as he enters your apartment and throws himself onto your couch, watching as you dab on some dark red lipstick—an occurrence you’d become quite used to the past two weeks, because evidently Dazai Osamu does not need a key nor invitation into your home, he just picks the lock and comes right in. At least you’re expecting him this time. “Atsushi-kun laughed in my face. He laughed in my face! Can you believe it? After everything I’ve done for him, the nerve.”

You grin, glancing up into your mirror to catch his eyes. “To be honest, I still don’t believe you have a date for the dinner and I am your date.”

Dazai blanches, throwing his arm over his face as he slumps into the couch. “Et tu, bella?” he sighs sorrowfully and you laugh, spinning around in your chair to face him. 

“Think of it this way,” you say, twisting your lipstick back into its container and placing it into your purse. Dazai peek up from the couch, eyes focusing on you as you speak. You almost feel a bit flustered under his gaze, it’s more intense than you expected. “You’ll get to see the looks on their face when they realize that you do actually have a date.”

Dazai brightens a bit at your words and then, as if a sudden thought passed through his head, he begins cackling like a madman—although you’re beginning to think the description is far more apt than you believed, Dazai Osamu is simply not sane. “Kunikada-kun is going to be so mad that I have a date and he doesn’t.”

“You’re wrinkling your suit, sit up straight,” you say and turn your attention back to the mirror, discreetly watching as Dazai lets out an exaggerated sigh before doing as you ask. Your eyes linger on him for a moment—he looks different dressed up nicely in a sleek, dark suit than his typical tan trench coat. He still wears those odd bandages all over his body, but you suppose that’s just a him thing, and no fancy event would get him to take them off. You can’t quite place what the exact difference is but you find that your gaze keeps dragging back to him. 

He catches you staring and winks, you roll your eyes and look away, grateful that your embarrassment doesn’t show on your face as you glance one last time at yourself in the mirror to ensure that nothing is out of place

Dazai, you have learned over the past two weeks, can’t stand silence, so you aren’t surprised when you hear him start complaining about something else as soon as the conversation dies down. 

“Did you know I pushed two of my little protégés to work with each other?” he asks, reaching out to grab the papers on your coffee table when he thinks you aren’t looking. You throw one of your makeup brushes at him. He yelps and draws back his hand.

“That’s nice,” you say absently. “Do they work together well?” 

“Oh, they work together great,” Dazai says, and you glance back at him when you notice the sheer bitterness in his tone. “I think they love each other now.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of why Dazai seems so irritated by this. “That’s… great, isn’t it?” you asked slowly.

“No!” Dazai says so vehemently that you think he might leap to his feet in outrage. “That is not great. They are not allowed to be in a relationship before me. I forbid it.”

Your lips part a bit, a noise caught between a laugh and shock escaping them as you look over at Dazai again. “Okay,” you say, dragging out the word in amusement. Dazai shoots an affronted expression toward you in response, but you don’t give him the chance to speak again. You rise to your feet and swing your purse over your shoulder, glancing at the time, realizing you had about fifteen minutes to be at the City Hall, which is a forty minute drive without traffic and it’s a Saturday evening, so there’s always traffic. 

“Oh god, we have to-”

You turn to leave only to bump right into Dazai. Blinking in confusion, you look up at him to ask what he’s doing but the words die on your tongue.

He’s too close as he looks down at you, you can smell the faint scent of his cologne and you can feel his body brushing yours, the corner of his lips twitching up. “Have I earned a kiss yet?” he hums, leaning his face down a bit so that his lips are almost barely grazing yours. 

“Maybe,” you say, eyes flickering down to his lips for the sparest second before you watch his eyes light up only for you to take a step back, “but even if you did, you’re not messing up my makeup.”

Dazai looks as if he’d been shot in the heart, head dropping back as he groans and pouts at your words. “You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs, voice a long whine. “Won’t you indulge me with just a taste?”

“No,” you say, slipping past him to make your way over to the door where the keys to your car are hanging on a small hook. “Are you ready? We’re going to be late.”

The exaggerated grief that paints Dazai’s expression instantly disappears as he eyes your keys with a look that’s nothing short of devious. Distantly, you frown and close your fist around your keys, putting them out of his sight, but Dazai is undeterred, walking over to you.

“I can drive us,” he says, that same expression on his face as he holds his hand out. You don’t trust the look on his face, nor do you trust the way he’s all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s the least I can do, right?” 

You’re doubtful, looking down at his extended hand as he waits for you to drop the keys in them. “I can drive,” you say, but Dazai immediately pouts at your words, looking genuinely bummed out, and you feel a little bad because you don’t even like driving, you just don’t trust Dazai to be a good driver. You hesitate. “Do you even know how to drive?”

“Of course,” Dazai says hurriedly, dark eyes lighting back up.

You exhale, reaching out to place your keys in his hand—the smile on his face is wicked, dread builds in your gut. You think you might have made a mistake.

You’re surprised that your car is still in one piece as Dazai parks crookedly across three spots in the parking lot of the city hall. You’re surprised that you are in one piece. You don’t move for a second, fingers still biting into the leather seat you’re buckled in, eyes wide and barely breathing. As Dazai turns the car off, you finally turn your head to the side to look at him before getting out of the car, grateful to be standing on solid ground.

“Never again.”

Dazai’s unbothered, as always—his smile is wide and restless, eyes exhilarated as they dart around the car, fingers clutching the keys as he finally steps outside. He looks as if he’d just won the lottery, that gleeful over having been given the chance to drive. You knew you should have gone with your gut when the man first asked if he could drive, and as miserable and anxiety-inducing it was racing through the streets, in between cars and half on the sidewalk, you think it might’ve been worth it, a bit, considering Dazai’s reaction.

“Maybe once more,” Dazai bargains, holding out his arm to you.

“Never again,” you repeat, but your voice is light as you take his arm and let him lead you up the steps to the city hall. “I cannot believe you didn’t get us pulled over.”

“Must not have been that bad then,” Dazai says, proudly. 

“Ha! More like they didn’t want to risk their own lives trying to stop you.”

Dazai pouts terribly and then adds petulantly, “But it was fun.”

“It was something alright,” you agree idly. You aren’t sure if you were having fun in the moment, you were more scared for your life and your car, but you suppose looking back on it was a bit entertaining. 

“You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs exaggeratedly. “You refuse my well-earned kiss, you mock me, now you insult my driving skills.”

“The only thing insulted tonight was my car,” you mutter to yourself, glancing back once more at it before Dazai steps forward to push open the wide doors to the city hall. 

Instantly, you’re met with the sound of loud chatter and laughter and a young, unfamiliar voice calling, “Dazai-san!” excitedly. 

Your gaze drifts up from Dazai to where a teen with silver hair and pretty eyes rushes up to the two of you. He’s so tunnel visioned on Dazai that he doesn’t even notice you until he’s standing right in front of you, and when he does, his eyes go so wide that you think they might pop right out of his skull. He looks between you and Dazai questioningly, lips parting and closing like a fish out of water.

Dazai looks like the cat that got the canary, eyes gleaming at the expression on Atsushi’s face and lips twitching up into a wicked smile. 

“Atsushi-kuuuuun,” he drags out the boy's name in a long sing-song. “Meet my sweet belladonna, the one you so rudely claim didn’t exist.”

Atsushi looks flustered as he turns his attention toward you, eyes wide with panic and redness rising to his cheeks. “I didn’t-I mean-I just-” he stutters so badly that you’re forced to take mercy on the poor boy.

“Don’t worry,” you say with an easy grin. “I wouldn’t believe I existed either coming from Dazai.”

Dazai gapes. Atsushi snickers, hand coming up to cover his mouth to hide his smile. Atsushi glances once at Dazai and then looks back at you and whispers, “Is he paying you?”

Dazai looks thoroughly offended.

“Unfortunately, he doesn't need to,” you say with a snort, "but I'm sure he would if he had to."

Dazai gasps. 

Atsushi snorts loudly and then looks a bit embarrassed. A woman with pretty eyes and short dark hair comes up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She throws a sharp grin at you. “You must be the infamous woman that Dazai has been talking about nonstop for two weeks,” she says, ignoring how Dazai looks like he wants to wither as you raise your eyebrows at him. “Blink twice if you need help.”

Dazai looks appalled now. “Yosano-sensei,” he complains, “That’s so-”

You pointedly blink twice. Yosano barks out a laugh and nearly chokes over it, Dazai gasps again, louder and far more dismayed. He slumps over your shoulder, burying his face into the top of your head. 

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he grumbles, voice muffled against your hair. 

You pat his waist as another man approaches the group of you, blonde hair tied back neatly in a ponytail and glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. His eyes are sharp and narrowed as he looks at where Dazai is draping himself all over you. “Oi, you shitty waste of bandages, have some decorum, would you? We're at a government event, stop throwing yourself at people.”

Dazai perks up, that unscrupulous smile instantly returning as his gaze focuses on the blonde. “Kunikida-kuuun,” he now sings the other man’s name, arm slipping around your waist to tug you into his side as he says. “Come meet my date. She’s a grad student at Waseda University.”

You have a distinct feeling that he’s rubbing it in Kunikida’s face, and from the way the man’s expression twists in genuine surprise at Dazai’s words, you figure that said feeling is correct. Kunikida turns his attention toward you. “And you’re with him?” he asks so distastefully that you almost laugh. “How did you even meet him?”

You give Dazai a side-eye, considering whether or not you should tell the truth. You notice the pleading expression on his face and squint, but before you can make your decision, he speaks up, voice loud and exaggerated: “A fateful encounter under the moonlit shore of the Zushi Beach, we stumbled into each other as if guided by the hand of god himself. I-”

Suspicious now of the sideways explanation he’s giving about your own meeting with him, and recalling the tale he regaled you of his meeting with the very boy standing a few feet away from you, you cut off Dazai and turn to Atsushi. “Atsushi-kun, how did you and Dazai meet?”

Dazai flounders, hands flying in front of as if to wave Atsushi off from answering, but Atsushi only scowls and says, “I had to jump into the Tsurumi River to free him from where he was floating upside down in a barrel trying to drown himself. Then he had the nerve to yell at me for it.”

Pointedly, you look at Dazai, who at least has the decency to look sheepish as he glances at you. “I did take him out to dinner after though,” he offers.

“With my money,” Kunikida rages loudly and Dazai throws his head back with a loud sigh of complaint. 

“None of you have my back. Not a single one of you,” Dazai accuses. “I would be a good wingman for you guys.”

Kunikida looks downright insulted. “You are the opposite of a wingman,” he spits. “In fact, you go out of your way to embarrass me in front of women, you lousy liar-”

“I will not have you make me look bad because you’re jealous any longer,” Dazai proclaims, holding his hand up as if to silence Kunikida. 

“Jealous?” Kunikida booms after Dazai, but Dazai is already dragging you away, stealing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one over to you with a misleadingly innocent smile. 

“It’s true, he’s jealous,” Dazai says, lacing his fingers into yours as he idly walks around the event hall with you, sipping at his champagne. “He has fifty-eight criteria for his ideal woman, you fit at least forty of them. He’s probably soooo mad you’re here with me.”

You blink and look at Dazai, wondering if you heard him correctly. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask with a laugh. “Fifty-eight-”

“Criteria, yeah,” Dazai confirms, “and he wonders why he can’t get a girlfriend—blames it on me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m sure you don’t help.”

Dazai pouts but then his amusement fades a bit as his eyes scan the crowd of people, dark eyes taking upon an uncharacteristically serious visage. His lips tighten and the corner of his eyes wrinkle as he squints, as if something about the whole event is bothering him.

“You okay?” you ask and Dazai looks at you, a bit startled.

“Yeah,” he says, and you watch as he smooths his face out—as if you’d seen something you weren’t supposed to see and now he was trying to play it off and pretend you didn’t. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

You’ve noticed over the past two weeks, as you’ve gotten to know Dazai Osamu a bit better, that he’s far more complex than he likes to portray himself to be. He puts on a theatrical show with bright smiles, loud words and over-exaggerated clownlike behavior, and he’s very good at making sure that the mask he puts on rarely wavers. You’ve only caught it faltering a few times, including that first time you met when you’d woken up in the middle of the night and caught his empty expression as he stared out into the storm. 

He doesn’t take well to people pointing it out though, you’ve realized. You tried to once a week ago when you caught him looking a bit lost and alone at a picture you had of you and two of your friends at a bar downtown. He’d broken into your apartment, as you’ve grown unfortunately used to over the past two weeks, and he was waiting for you to get back from class, snooping around while he waited. You weren’t supposed to be back until much later but your five o’clock class had been canceled, and he was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard you enter your apartment until you were a few feet away and asking if he was okay. 

He promptly fled with a half-assed excuse about an urgent mission and he didn’t come back to your apartment for two days. When he finally did, he acted like nothing happened. You think that it’s not really your right to push and you don’t want to step over any boundary of his, but a part of you is starting to long to figure out what exactly is behind the mask he wears and that scares you. You find yourself smiling a bit too much whenever Dazai is around, your face always feels a bit hotter and your brain always feels a bit fuzzy—the tell-tale signs of falling are starting to appear and you want to know the man behind the carefully constructed mask before you start to fall only to realize that there’s no one there to catch you. 

“You looked a bit lost in thought,” you finally say, testing the words on your tongue and scanning his face to see if even that would be too much of a push for him. 

It is.

“You see right through me, don’t you?” He laughs it off as a joke, but you can all but taste the bitterness in his tone and you can see the mirth thinly veiled behind his eyes. “I’ll be right back, the boss is calling me over.”

Dazai doesn’t wait for you to respond, he tosses you a wink and another casual smile before he sets off across the room but you aren’t fooled by the faux-charm this time, knowing that he’s fleeing because you got a bit too close to asking something that he doesn’t want to answer. Lifting your champagne glass back to your lips, you idly watch him make his way over to a handsome, silver-haired man who’s in deep discussion with a young man with messy black hair. 

You sigh and wave over a server to grab another flute of champagne before you even finish the one in hand, disappointment sweeping through you as you realize that the night is likely going to be a very, very long one.

You’re finishing your fourth glass when you hear someone call your last name and pause a bit in confusion, turning around to face a tall middle-aged man with graying hair. Your eyes widen a bit as you recognize Tonan Tanzo, the Vice Minister of Justice, making his way toward you with a glass of wine in hand. 

“Tonan-san,” you greet, nodding your head a bit in respect for the older man, who you spoke to briefly at the Ministry’s panel at your university a week and a half ago. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you,” the man replies distantly, more a nicety than anything else. “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. You’re acquainted with the Armed Detective Agency?” 

There’s an edge to his voice, one that you’re not sure if you like. You wonder if he has an issue with the Agency, but you don’t see why he would, they’ve been nothing but helpful in fostering peace in the city.

You only smile idly. “Vaguely,” you respond, not giving away all too much. You wonder if Dazai knows anything about whatever the man’s issue is—you’d have to ask him later. 

Tonan hums, as if your answer wasn’t satisfactory, and then he says, “I was meaning to email you about the internship you were hoping for under Minister Hasegawa—all of the chaos of the past week has prevented me from doing so. I’ll be sure to do so by the end of this week so we can work to finalize something for winter break and the summer. Perhaps we can figure something out with your schedule to get you some training at the office before the semester ends.”

Your lips part a bit in shock at the suddenness of the offer but you school your expression quickly, mind racing as you force out, “I would appreciate that very much, Tonan-san. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Tonan Tanzo only hums again, nodding at you once before his eyes flicker up above you, a bit distastefully, just as you feel fingers brush your lower back. Tonan doesn’t even bother to greet Dazai as he turns to leave with a faint parting to you. You look up at Dazai, whose expression is cold as he stares after Tonan until the man disappears down a nearby hall. 

“What was that about?” Dazai asks, the cold expression melting as soon as he looks down at you, dark eyes warm and curious as if he hadn’t just abandoned you for almost an hour. You almost feel a bit flustered beneath the gentle stare. Almost. 

“I think he just offered me the job I was trying to get at the Ministry?” you say, still a bit dazed. “Although, I don’t think it’s necessarily because he wants me there, but it doesn’t really matter, I just need it for my resume.”

“Hm,” Dazai says to himself before his lips flicker up into a smile. “Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose. Good thing I grabbed us some more champagne.”

He lifts his other hand pointedly, showing off the two flutes he’d grabbed on the way back and you grin a bit, taking one from him, feeling a bit giddy now even though you’re pretty sure Tonan only hit you with the offer because of your affiliation with the Armed Detective Agency. 

“You should probably slow down,” you note as you sip your own glass. “You’re on like seven now.”

“I’m fine, and you have no room to talk,” Dazai shoots you a playful smile. “Dance with me.”

“What?” you ask, eyes widening as Dazai takes the glass from you before you even take a second sip, placing it down on a nearby table with his as he grabs your arm and drags you to the center of the room, onto a dancefloor that nobody is using. “Dazai, no.”

“Dazai, yes,” he corrects with a wild grin and your face is aflame as eyes begin to turn in the direction of the two of you, curious as to what’s going on. 

You want to die when Dazai forcibly spins you under his arm, much like that night out on the streets of Yokohama when the two of you ended up drenched and muddy except now there were dozens of eyes on you whereas then, people were more focused on trying to get to cover from the torrential downpour.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss, embarrassment flooding through you because for as thin as Dazai is, he’s deceptively strong and you cannot break free of the grip he has on your hand and waist. 

“Please,” he breathes out longingly. “A death at your hands would-”

“Stop.”

Dazai pouts, and then as if punishment for interrupting him, Dazai launches you into a dramatic dip, leaning down with a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat’s to shame as he nudges his nose against yours before pulling you back up and spinning you beneath his arm again. 

“This is embarrassing,” you say, but Dazai is paying no mind to the attention that the two of you are gaining—in fact, he looks utterly pleased with himself. “I-”

“Look! Yosano-sensei and Atsushi-kun are joining us!” Dazai cheers, turning the two of you just enough so that you can catch sight of Yosano physically dragging a protesting Atsushi out onto the near-empty dance floor.

“Yosano-sensei, please, I’ve never danced before,” Atsushi pleads, tugging his wrist away from the older woman but her grip is iron clad as she tugs the boy toward her, taking the lead in a wide ballroom dance.

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai sings. “Don’t look so nervous.” 

Atsushi shoots Dazai a withering look, clearly blaming him for the unfortunate turn of events, and you relax a bit as you realize that Yosano pulling Atsushi onto the dance floor triggered a wave of several others: a dark-haired girl dragging an orange-haired boy onto the floor, the president of the Agency holding a hand out to a young girl who keeps shooting longing looks in the direction of the people dancing, a few older couples.

“See, everyone was just too nervous to be the first,” Dazai preens, tugging you close as he shifts from a wide and theatrical ballroom dance to a slower and more intimate one.

Your breath catches as he wraps an arm around your waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your lower back as his hand flattens. His other hand slips from where it’s intertwined with your to join his right on your waist. You’re so close to him that you can smell the faint scent of champagne on his breath as you loop your arms around his neck with a small smile. 

Dazai’s dark eyes are glittering as he looks down at you, warm as melted honey and soft as velvet, you’re almost entranced. His lips are curved up into a gentle smile—you think you want to kiss him, and you swallow nervously as soon as the thought crosses your mind. You also think he might be able to read your mind, because his smile becomes a bit more mischievous as he leans down. 

He doesn’t kiss you, but you think he might as well from how close he is to you—you swear that his lips are all but brushing yours. You feel a bit dizzy, and although there are enough people swaying and spinning around the two of you that you don’t really have to worry about any attention being on the two of you, you still feel a bit flustered by the thought of so many possibly seeing this. 

“Now, do I get my kiss?” he whispers, and your lips part to respond but no words leave them. You think that’s dangerous because you definitely should not kiss him right now but your brain will not cooperate in formulating the words. Dazai lets out a small puff of laughter, his breath is warm against your lips and you want to kiss him even more—dangerous, you think again. “Fine, fine, I’ll wait just a bit longer.”

He doesn’t back away though and your heart feels like it’s lodged in your throat as he hums along quietly to the music playing, swaying back and forth with you tucked neatly in your arms. You think this is far too intimate for two people who aren’t even technically dating (you won’t admit that you’d been questioning it earlier with how often he frequents your apartment and his casual intimacy with you and felt a bit embarrassed when he made his comment about his proteges being in a relationship before him), and you think you should probably back away, but instead you find your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

There’s something indecipherable in his eyes—conflicted and confused, but with a far heavier emotion thinly veiled behind it, something caught between longing and adoration but with a hint of melancholy. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you figure that now’s not the time and he’ll probably just blow you off in the same way he did before.

So instead, you just give him a small smile and watch as his dark eyes widen a fraction at the action—you wonder if he realized that you noticed that something’s up with him and more importantly, you wonder if you weren’t supposed to notice. With bated breath, you wait to see whether or not he’s going to close off. 

Around the two of you, the President lifts his arm to let the young girl spin beneath it, Atsushi is still letting out panicked protests as he and Yosano sweep across the dancefloor, an older couple laughs loudly as the man dips her and the teenage girl with dark hair is giggling as she takes the lead in the dance with the orange-haired boy. 

Dazai doesn’t react for what feels like an eternity. 

But then he smiles—it’s light and soft around the edges, matching your own, and though that indecipherable look is still in his eyes, maybe even more wistful now, you can’t help but notice that his shoulders feel much less tense beneath your arms.

You consider it a win.

Dazai thinks that he might be in trouble. 

His gaze lingers on you as you make your way across the room in the direction of where Atsushi and Kyouka are talking. Atsushi had waved you over after everyone finally made their way off of the dance floor, Dazai’s a bit insulted because Atsushi and Kyouka both made it abundantly clear that they only wanted you to join them, which Dazai thinks is quite rude but what does he know?

And Dazai’s heart is racing, his cheeks feel warm, his lips are tingling, and he wants to blame it on the alcohol but he knows deep down that the alcohol is not the issue, you are.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The thought rings through his head as he watches you walk away, eyes tracing your figure while an emotion that borders on longing wreaks havoc on his heart. His throat feels clogged with it, his lungs feel as if they’re filled with ash. You make it to Atsushi and Kyouka and Atsushi is immediately talking, animated and excited.

He thinks you look beautiful—you’re wearing a red dress and it clings as if it was made perfectly for you even though he’s pretty sure it’s a dress you’d found on Uniqlo’s clearance racks, he remembers you raving about your luck with it last week, and as you look over your shoulder in his direction, your eyes glitter as brightly as the rhinestones sitting on your collarbone, teeth gleaming as you smile at whatever Atsushi is saying to you. Dazai doesn’t dare to ponder what his protege could possibly be telling you to make you look at him like that, he doubts it’s anything good, but he finds that he doesn’t even really care because he thinks that he’d sacrifice all of his pride and dignity if it means you’d continue to smile like that in his direction.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

It was meant to be a little fun once he realized that you were just a civilian with no connection to the underground—a distraction, a way to gloat a bit to Kunikida because of course Dazai can pull a girl that fits almost every single one of the man’s ideals while Kunikida himself can hardly dream of it. He convinced himself that he was playing a long game by spending every waking second outside of work at your apartment, wooing you so that he could get a kick out of Kunikida’s inevitable explosion. He convinced himself that the fluttering in his chest whenever you laughed at him was just some strange heart palpitations that have arisen as a chronic consequence of one of his attempts, paying no mind to the fact that it only happens when he’s with you. He convinced himself that his face is warm whenever he’s around you because of the weather even when the temperature chills and the wind is bitter. 

But it’s hard to convince himself now—his lips tingle from where they’d just barely been brushing yours, there are goosebumps on his skin where your fingers had once been, and the image of your smile is branded behind his eyelids, the gentleness of it and the understanding. And he thinks it’s ridiculous honestly, because he doesn’t think that there’s anyone left in the world that could possibly understand him, but since that first day he met you, you’ve seemed to be able to see through him in a way that few people have ever been able to, going out of your way to try to make him feel more comfortable in a way that no one ever has.

When did he start to…

He can’t even finish the thought because acknowledging it means that it’s real and if it’s real, then Dazai is in trouble because Dazai is not a man who is capable of love anymore—or maybe he still is capable of love, or something close to it at least, what he feels for the members of the Agency proves that at least, but he’s not a man who’s capable of being loved. 

Not for who he is.

Even if you do fall for the facade he puts up—the smiling jester who laughs and jokes and never lets anyone close enough to realize that the only thing within him is a black hole that consumes anything and everything he touches—you’ll realize one day that the man you fell for is a fraud and you’d leave. Dazai has been left behind once, in a way that was so excruciating that it’d almost entirely killed off Dazai’s withered heart, and he’s decided that he’ll never be the one left behind again. He’ll run before people can leave him, and he’ll keep everyone else at arm’s length. He’s probably wrong anyway; he doesn’t care for you, not like that, the line between obsession and love has always been dangerously blurry for him. He-

“Atsushi’s taken to her pretty fast, don’t you think?” 

Dazai starts at the sudden sound of Yosano coming to stand next to him, a half-empty glass of wine in hand. There’s a lazy smile on her face as she watches where you, Atsushi and Kyouka are all chatting—well, you and Atsushi, mostly, but Kyouka seems enraptured in whatever conversation the two of you are having. 

“Yeah,” Dazai agrees, and his voice is a bit more rough than he meant for it to be. He pointedly takes another long swig of his drink. “That’s a first.”

“Isn’t it?” Yosano laughs loudly, drawing some attention to the pair. “A good sign, he’s got pretty good instincts.”

Yosano nudges his shoulder playfully but Dazai can hardly gather the energy to mask the sudden and unwelcome sorrow weighing on him. He manages, if only scarcely, but it’s unconvincing if the way Yosano’s brows furrowed has anything to say about it. 

He speaks before she can question it in an attempt to distract her from her concerns. “She’s quite the catch, I know. My sweet bella, if only she would join me in a double suicide, I don’t think I could even dream up a better way to go.”

Yosano only waves off his comment, and Dazai knows that she’s right—maybe it’s his tiger senses or maybe it’s just his intuition, but Atsushi usually has a good eye for good people. His lack of reservation around you, when he was even reserved around the Agency at first, is certainly a nice sign, even if it is partly because he’s had a few glasses of champagne. But Dazai also just can’t find it in him to be pleased over it because yeah, it confirms that you’re a good person but Dazai, no matter how hard he tries to be, is not one and he’s not sure if anything will ever change that.

The thickness in his throat returns, his eyes flutter shut momentarily as he tries to regain some semblance of control over himself.

When he opens his eyes again, his gaze instinctively is drawn back toward you and-

Oh, Dazai thinks, his breath catching and lips instinctively turning up as he watches you start to giggle and lean into Kyouka, who must have finally joined the conversation, while looking over at him. There’s a hazy look in your eyes, courtesy of the constant stream of champagne Dazai has been supplying you with all night, but you can’t seem to draw your eyes off of Dazai and Dazai can’t seem to draw his from you. 

Yosano nudges his shoulder again to try to get his attention but Dazai can’t look away from you so he hums as if to tell her that she has his attention—if only partly. 

“Enjoy it, Dazai,” Yosano says quietly and Dazai finally glances over to her, catching the oddly coherent look in what should’ve been drunken, glazed over eyes. “Don’t sabotage this for yourself. Enjoy it.” 

Dazai thinks maybe he was wrong about you being one of few to be able to see right through him. Maybe he’s not as subtle as he thinks he is—or maybe it’s just his shared connection to Yosano through Mori that has her able to read him so easily. He avoids Yosano’s gaze as he looks back out into the crowds. Naturally, he finds himself seeking you out again, and you’re already looking at him. There’s a soft expression on your face as you admire him, not having realized he’d caught you staring yet, and you look as if you’re barely listening to what Atsushi is saying, and Dazai’s heart seizes because no one has ever looked at him that way before.

Well, he decides, maybe Yosano is right. He might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Once you realize that the front he shows you is just a mask to hide the rotting carcass that lies beneath, you’ll turn tail and run, and then everything can go back to normal again. He just can’t let himself get more attached than he already is—that way it won’t hurt when you leave.

Dazai catches his lips turning up as he watches you start giggling at something Atsushi and Kyouka say, Dazai’s heart does that damning flutter again, and immediately, he averts his gaze.

Still, he thinks, he’s far too sober for this. 

Later in the night, when people have begun to say their goodbyes and you start to make your way to the restrooms to freshen up before heading out, Dazai corners you against the wall of the hall leading out of the event venue. You don’t even hear him following you or notice his presence until you feel his fingers snatch your wrist as he yanks you back toward him. 

Your eyes widen but you’re able to bite back the yelp that nearly escapes your lips when you recognize his dark eyes looking down at you, mischievous and glittering beneath the soft lights. 

“Do I get my kiss now?” Dazai breathes out. The wall behind you is cool against your back, and you can hear the chatter from the event down the hall as the event begins to come to an end. You part your lips to respond to him, with what? You aren’t entirely sure, but it doesn’t seem to matter because no words leave your lips regardless. “The party’s over, no need to worry about messing up that pretty makeup now, bella.”

“Only one,” you finally say, voice a bit more throaty than you would have liked but it’s hard to concentrate with Dazai’s fingers grazing your hips and his body brushing yours. You wonder if the man has ever learned about the concept of personal space—you severely doubt it. “Make it good, and maybe you can have a second.”

The smile on Dazai’s lips is nothing short of sinful as he brings one hand up to cup the side of your neck, thumb running along your jawline and fingers entangling with your hair. He doesn’t waste a second as he dips his head down to press his lips against yours, they’re warm and soft, and taste distinctly like the champagne that had been served earlier in the night. You let out a quiet noise of surprise against his lips, eyes fluttering shut. 

The kiss is tamer than you expected it to be—he makes no move to deepen it, lips moving slowly and gently against yours as if he’s hesitant to take it any further, but Dazai Osamu has never been hesitant about anything in all of the times you've encountered him. Your hands rest on his forearms as he keeps you pressed up against the wall, unconcerned with the fact that all of his coworkers and many government officials are naught but half a hallway away. 

You think to yourself, a bit embarrassed, that you might be able to spend an eternity kissing Dazai Osamu and never grow tired of it, and you wonder why it's taken you so long just to give in to his request from nearly a month ago.

You aren’t sure if ten seconds, ten minutes or ten hours have passed by the time he finally separates his lips from yours. He doesn’t move far away at all—his nose still nudging yours, his soft lips still brushing your own, he leaves no space at all between the two of you as he asks: “Good enough for a second?”

Your lips curve up into a smile, eyes meeting his dark ones as you look up at him through your lashes. Though, you have half a mind to agree, your previous thoughts still ringing through your head, you can't help the teasing words that spilled from your lips: “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll sleep on it and let you know my answer the next time we see each other.”

The laugh that Dazai lets out is breathless. 

“Deal.”

[missmimii]

𖤐 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 - 𝐌 ~ 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - In which Matt convinces his girlfriend to film a video in a haunted house, the fearful events taking a turn for the better once he gives her the perfect distraction to keep her fright at bay.

✰-

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, dom!matt, fem!reader, smut, f!oral receiving (Matt the munch forever), language, public(kinda?) dirty talk, light, light degradation, pet names, teasing, light fluff

𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈!

♡︎－ 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ * This is probably the first time I’ve written detailed smut, so let me know how I did/how I can improve! Ily guys so much, and I appreciate the recent support. It’s surreal ❤︎︎

୨ৎ － 𝐰𝐜 - 𝟕.𝟒𝐤

Starting on the current day going forward, Y/n made a promise to herself to never agree to be in a video with Matt ever again. Granted- she should’ve known he was up to no good when he offered his affection as a payment, but it was Matt.

The same Matt whose bribe seemed oddly similar to the many occasions he’d want to cling onto the girls side, press his face in the crook of her neck as he whispered all of the sinful things he thought of the beautiful girl. So when he said he’d fuck her till she saw stars, purely just for her appearance in a video, she thought nothing of it.

Because he loved his girlfriend.

Y/n was used to being in the triplets content regularly, which was given, seeing as she was the triplet’s girlfriend. Other than the odd occasions where she’d take a beat to focus on her own life as well as her personal career.

Said videos usually consisted of the four doing small activities that they knew the girl enjoyed. Q&A’s, because as much as she denied the accusations (she was fond of saying silly little facts about herself). Or something as simple as vlogging themselves shopping at thrift stores, a side hobby of the girls, that may have been a slight problem.

Just something to show off his gratitude and love for his girlfriend, showed the people watching that the angel was in fact, a very important piece in the scrambled puzzle of his life.

And though he loved his brothers, he couldn’t deny that one of the main reasons her got up every day, and stayed consistent with filming content, was because of the girl. He wanted to make her proud of his work, his job being the third on his lists of his best accomplishments.

𝟏－Nick & Chris

𝟐－Y/n (and how he managed to bag such a perfect, beautiful girl)

𝟑－His career

But because their content was usual tame and collected, random vlogs, that always consisted of activities that never were considered strange, Y/n immediately agreed to make an appearance in there latest video. Matt, on the other hand, inwardly cringed to himself at her lack of hesitation.

Was he lying to her? Not exactly. But was he avoiding telling her the full truth? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Small tea lights surrounded the group, as well as the blue rope that was laid out on the unstable floorboards beneath. Y/n felt her heart skip a beat whenever she heard a creak, forgetting that it was the century old flooring.

I can’t believe he talked me into this.

Because the girl was away for work for days on end, weeks- even, she didn’t hear everything about what happened back in LA in her absence. Of course they’d FaceTime as much as possible, but he as always to damn distracted, watching her.

Matt would watch her plump lips speak at a perfect pace through the camera, biting on the edge of his thumb as he wondered how amazing they’d feel against his own lips. She’s so fucking beautiful. Miss’ her so much. I wonder how it’d feel to be inside her right in this very moment.

And in result of his overwhelming thoughts of her, the reoccurring subject during these late night calls would also be her. Matt always missed her. Missed her touch, her voice, her perfect nails that would lightly scratch against his back as she lulled him to sleep at night, his head gently placed between her plush breasts.

Apparently (according to the man himself) Matt found himself missing the girl so much, that as he babbled on and on about how much he needed her, wanted her, and could practically feeling his cock being squeezed by the walls of her pussy, he might’ve forgot to mention that Nick had set up a collab with the two ghost hunters.

Y/n stared down at the illuminated rope that was weaved around the large group, flashes of blue and red intermittently sparking along the rope. An EMF cord. She was quite literally, being surrounded by hundreds of entities.

Lord please help me.

The girl flinched a bit as she felt a hand being pressed on the small of her back, immediately thinking ghost. “Woah.” Matt chuckled, looking down at the distressed girl as she blew out a soft gasp. “You alright?” The triplet tilted his head, running his hand comfortingly down her back.

Y/n’s shoulders fell with relief, silently shaking her head while simultaneously reaching out for his hand. Matt’s eyebrows drew together with worry, but didn’t hesitate before taking in her smaller, trembling one into his large hand. “Say the word and the video is scrapped.” She immediately shook her head.

“No- you’ve been looking forward for this for a while now.” Matt felt his stomach swoop with guilt, watching his beautiful girl run a distressed hand through the tendrils of her hair. “And Nick.” He rose a brow at the mention of triplet. “He hasn’t shut up about the stupid- ETES test, for weeks.” She stressed out.

Matt softly chuckled, sliding the hand that rest on her back to gently grip her waist. “I don’t care what Nick wants. The kids spoiled.” Y/n rolled her eyes at the childish remark, but felt her lips tip upward at the corners. “I care that you’re okay, baby.” His other hand cupped her cheek, soothingly running the pad of his thumb over the scar nearing the corner of her eye.

Matt watched in adoration as the girls eyelashes fluttered against her pink cheeks, batting them unintentionally as she peered up at him with that expression he could never get enough of. “I’ll be okay. I’m just being a big baby.” Y/n grumbled the last part in a soft voice, not even wanting the words to leave her mouth.

His lips fell into a smirk as he hummed, the thumb that rest against her cheek sliding down the dewy skin of her jaw and seductively smoothing over the plumpness of her bottom lip. “That’s because you are one.” Y/n’s frown deepened, as well as a redness illuminating against her cheeks.

Matt grunted at the sight, watching a stain of pink smudge against his thumb while it slid from her lips. “Cut it out.” He murmured, running his tongue along his bottom lip as he leered down at the girl with a dark expression. Y/n lifted an eyebrow, maybe with a slight attitude. “The pout.” Matt added.

Oh. The girl couldn’t help herself, a grin beaming across her pink lips as she cocked her head up at him. “And why’s that?” Y/n inquired, the false innocence apparent to the triplet, being fully aware of her games.

Matt felt his tongue twinge the inside of his cheek as he looked down at the nymph, feeling himself aching below through carpenter jeans he wore regularly. “Why?” He repeated, giving the girl a final chance to correct whatever little attitude she was about to cop.

Y/n hummed, zero hesitation as she placed a hand on his chest and drug the sharp ends of her nails along the thin fabric of his graphic tee. “Mhm..” His breath got caught in his throat as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, before forcing them into a small pout. “Is it because you don’t like to see me sad?” Fuck it.

The girl immediately yelped as she was being tugged forward, the hand of his that once rested gently against her waist, now used as leverage to bring her closer. “Sad, huh?” Chills went up at her arms, Matt’s breath feathering against the shell of her ear as he brought her into the warmth of his body. “If you keep up that little look, you’ll see just how fuckin’ hard you being ‘sad’ gets me.” He gritted against her ear.

All the girl could do was stand there, mouth gaping as she took in his words. Swallowing the lump she felt in her throat, she flicked her gaze away. “Looking forward to it.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes.

The remark wasn’t intended for his ears, fully. A sick part in the girl wanted him to hear the snarky tone, but the other, sane half, knew it was possibly the worst time to rile the man up. And if there was one thing that Y/n knew for sure, it was that Matt wouldn’t respond positively.

And he didn’t.

She got exactly one step away from him before she felt a hand gripping her wrist, chills going up her arms at the contact. “Repeat that.” Y/n felt the racing of the triplets heart as he tugged her closer, the girls back brushing against his chest.

The girl opened and closed her mouth, scrambling for a reply, or rather a lie. “I-” She practically whined as he hummed against her neck, knowing that it was a warning. “You didn’t let me finish my sentence!” The girl rushed out, spinning around to face the boy.

He lifted a brow, urging her to continue as she fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt. “I said.. looking’ forward to doing the ETES test.” She rushed out, sending him a sheepish smile.

Matt looked at her for a solid seven seconds, before his lips broke out into a smile. He just couldn’t help it. She looked as angelic as always, the flyaway hairs framing her adorable expressionisms perfectly. Matt found himself amused by her bratty approach, and though his hand did itch to slap that beautiful ass of hers, he knew to tread lightly when she was sensitive in situations like now.

“Mhm.” He shook his head a bit, rolling his eyes as he forced the smile from his lips. “Careful, kid.” Y/n, being unable to help herself, reached up and pinched his one cheek with a soft giggle. “Saw that. You aren’t slick, buddy.” The girl teased on, still giggling at his past reaction to her brattiness.

Men were too easy.

“Stop flirting with each other and get the fuck over here, you two!”

Y/n’s shoulders dropped, the momentary distraction Matt had offered her now long vanished at the sound of the youngest triplets shout. A searing light blared into the couples eye as they turned back to the group. “Jesus, Chris.” Matt hissed, using his one hand to cover his own eyes, the reaching out to guard the girls. “Put the fucking flashlight down, dummy.”

Chris being Chris, pointed at his brother and laughed, simultaneously waving the light in front of his face. “Chris,” Another voice chimed in, the black light being snatched from his hand. Nick glared as he stood aside the younger triplet, using the handle end of the flashlight to poke his side. “Stop be a fucking child.” He hissed.

Chris yelped, jumping away from the contact. “Ouchh.” All three of them, Y/n Matt and Nick, watched as the childish male hunched over while holding his side. “I’m actually burning all of your shit, Nick.” He continued to overexaggerate his pain, before abruptly reaching out to slap the eldest twin.

Matt rolled his eyes, already seeing the fight that was to break out before it even began. Wrapping two arms around her from behind, he tugged Y/n back into his chest while taking a step back from the two. Y/n stumbled backward, lips parting as she fell into the warmth of his chest with a small umph.

Her arms were comfortingly trapped beneath the boy’s tattooed ones as he leaned his head down to her ear. “You staying’ at my house tonight?” He mumbled against her jaw, the bridge of his nose brushing along her cheek as he placed a soft peck just below her ear.

She giggled at the contact, shifting a bit in his hold. “I don’t think I could even fathom sleeping alone after this.” He hummed, placing another light kiss on the area.

“After what? This, or the ghosts?” Chills went up her arms as he whispered the words against her face, the warmth of his breath grazing the curve of her jaw sensually. “Would you be shifting in bed, chills like this,” He ran his thumb along her arm, making a whimper emit from her lips. “-all up every inch of your body, because of how much you needed me? Or will it be the nightmares?” He murmured.

Y/n was basically panting as he finally ended his sentence, a bead of sweat slowly sliding down the span of her back, just between her trapezius. “… maybe a little bit of both.” She whispered softly, the words hitting Matthew’s ears like a velvety melody.

As if there were a record player in the man’s head, the vinyl that was Y/n’s voice played on repeat in his mind, resulting in the desperate aching sensation he felt growing in his jeans. “Fuck.” Matt cursed himself, momentarily looking heavenward.

“Who’s ready for the test?”

All heads turn at the sound of a voice that may have been a touch too enthusiastic for the current events. The two friends, Sam and Colby standing side by side, both grinning ear to ear. Y/n shook her head incredulously. Who was I to judge their weird little hobbies.

Nicks hand flew up, making the girl giggle softly. “I’m so fucking ready.” Chris nodded in agreement, both boys having already decided they’d go first for the test. Matt was hesitant at the beginning, not because he was scared, but because he didn’t want to say anything that may have freaked the girl out.

His upmost priority was keeping her calm, and so far his attempts hadn’t failed. “What about you two?” Colby pointed his index fringe in between the couple, lifting a brow. Matt slowly looked down, seeing the girls face absolutely terrified.

She was quite literally froze with fear, gaping at the dark haired male with wide eyes. “Like-now?” Y/n stumbled with her words, hands wringing together anxiously.

Colby nodded nonchalantly. “After these two, yeah.” He mumbled, fumbling with the camera before flicking his gaze back to the girl. “Only if you feel comfortable with it.” The male added quickly, noticing the slight warning look Matt was throwing his way.

The girl averted her gaze downward, her breathing having picked up rapidly in pace. She couldn’t- she wouldn’t. Matt suddenly adjusted the gentle hold he had on her, nudging around so she faced him. “Hey,” She shook her head. “Look at me.” Matt reached out, tipping her chin upward.

Y/n blinked up at the blue eyed boy, fighting back the tears of frustration as she gazed up at him. “I really don’t want to.” He immediately nodded, using his thumb to effortlessly brush away the one lone tear that had fallen. “And you don’t have to, yeah?” She sniffed a bit, shutting her eyes for a brief pause.

She was that friend.

She felt like one of those kids who dipped their feet in the pool instead of swimming because they couldn’t. “… I’ll do it if you do it with me.” She blurted out, her hands balling into fists.

Matt’s eyes widened at his girlfriend’s sudden change in attitude. “You want to do it?” She nodded, making the triplets face churn with even more confusion. “You- you want to do the ETES test? Talk to ghosts-” The more he went on, the more frightened she became, but he couldn’t help it.

What the fuck had gotten into his girlfriend?

Y/n groaned and softly shoved his chest. “Stop talking about it!” She whispered hissed, making him immediately halt his ranting. Matt blew out a breath, scratching the back of his head as he looked down at the girl. “Okay.” He nodded.

Her eyebrows flew up. “Just ‘okay’? Not, ‘okay I’ll do it with you’ or oka-” She was cut off from her rambling as set of lips were placed against hers, immediately resulting in her emitting a soft. She felt her entire body drop as the weight fell from her shoulders, Matt’s perfectly soft lips moulding against hers passionately.

The triplet let his eyes lull shut as he pressed himself closer into the girls body, both hands cupping her flushed cheeks as he smiled into the kiss. “Yes,” The boy muttered into between kisses. “I’ll do it with you, baby.” He chuckled, placing soft pecks around her mouth and jaw.

The girls nose scrunched at the ticklish sensation, giggling as she pushed her hands against the triplet’s chests. “Matt!” She exclaimed in an undertone, still laughing as she attempted to shove him away. “Cut it out.” The male shook his head, lightly nipping at her cheek.

“Can’t help it.” His speech came out slurred with his lips pressed against the soft skin of her cheek. “You look so fucking good with in this jacket- and that fuckin’ top.” Matt practically whined against her jaw, thumbing over the opening of her cropped shirt.

Maybe ghosts weren’t too scary …

✰-

“Holy fuck, man.”

Chris practically trampled through the closest door, slamming the door on Nicks face as he tore the merlot fabric from his eyes. “Those ghosts almost talk more than Nick.” He snickered, wincing as Nick pinched his side. “Kidding.” He grumbled.

Y/n watched as the door creaked open, the dusty sofa sitting inside awaiting the couple. I can’t believe I was doing this. Matt held both pieces of red fabric, feeling himself even slightly uneasy as he looked in the meekly lit room.

Dread. The girl was dreading the second her bottom landed on the leather sofa, and she was just about prepared to do anything to prolong it. Y/n felt her palms dampen with sweat, her hand twitching at the urge to reach out and grip Matt’s sleeve.

He’s right beside me- I’ll be fine.

The triplet beat her to it though, seeing her overwhelmed state as she shrunk into her own body, prompting him to reach out and grab her trembling hand. Her head snapped in his direction, finding the males eyes already on hers. “Good?” He asked, raising a brow.

Butterflies pressed against her stomach as her dilated pupils gazed into his blue eyes, feeling the world around her spin at the look that illuminated from his eyes. How could one look hold so much … love?

She blinked twice, shaking herself from whatever trance she was in. “Yes- yeah.” The girl uttered, looking down at their intertwined hands as she fiddled with the ring woven around his index finger. “Are you?” She murmured.

The corners of Matt’s mouth turned up at the inquiry. “Yeah.. m’fine doll.” Seeing her meek nod, he softly chuckled. “Are you sure?”

Y/n nipped at her bottom lip, flicking her eyes back up to the triplet’s. “Mhm.” At her nod, Matt offered one of his own.

It was on the tip of her tongue, she just had to say the word and he’d happily lift the girl into his arms, and walk out of the dump of house. The content mine as well have been nothing to him if his girl wasn’t okay the entire time.

“Here,” The male mumbled, the girl freezing with confusion. “Turn around for me sweetheart.” Her lips formed an ‘O’, and she turned her back to him. Matt carefully brushed away the few strands of hair that framed her face, making sure that none of them got caught as he gently tied the red fabric over her eyes.

Y/n sucked in a breath, her vision going black as she dug her nails into the flesh of her palms. “Atta’ girl.” She heard him murmur by her ear, before her nose crinkled as he pressed a harsh kiss on the side of her head.

“Matt.” She hushed, chuckling as she dodged his wandering touch. The tips of his fingers thumbed against the fabric, double checking that she in fact, could not see.

Something sinister ignited in the triplet as soon as her ability of seeing was enabled, a smirk cursing his lips. Touch would be so … sensational. She’d never know where his hand would glide off to next. Feeling her breath get caught in her throat, Y/n froze as she felt Matt brush his hand against bare skin of her abdomen. “Matt?” She whispered softly.

…

The girl was met with silence, resulting in a wave of confusion rolling over her body. Along with a spark set off in her core as she felt that same hand began to toy with the button of her jean shorts. A breath was sucked in as headphones were placed atop her head, the muffled sound of her own heart becoming the only thing she could hear.

Boom boom boom

The muffled sound of people talking was drowned out as the girls heart beat through her ears, Matthew’s feathering touch grazing her lower stomach. The boy bit down on his bottom lip as he watched his own fingers just barley pop the button her shorts open, the heat igniting within his body killing him.

God I need her.

Anger consumed his mood as he managed to pry his touch from the girls soft skin, knowing that the group was waiting for him to get on with the damn test. Jaw clenching as he snuggly knotted the fabric over his eyes, now unable to see the unworldly woman right in front of him.

“You guys all set?” Sam exclaimed, his voice coming off far too enthusiastic. Matt nodded stiffly, as did the girl.

Matt guided his hand lower, gently wrapping his larger one around the girls. “Feel for the door, hm?” He breathed against her ear, keeping his body close to hers as they walk forward. Y/n sucked in a breath, feeling the obvious hardness that pressed into her backside. “Kay’.” She murmured.

The triplet felt his lips tip up, rubbing the pad of this thumb against her wrist as they continued to move close to the door. Both of their steps came to a halt as Y/n’s hand brushed the corner of the door, using her hand to shove it open so they could enter. “Good luck you two!” Colby yelled, chuckling as he said something to the camera afterwards.

Good luck indeed.

A cold chill ran up the girls back, blowing out a breath as kept the urge to wrap her arms around herself. “It’s so cold.” She mumbled, her own voice muffled to the triplets ears. The room was pitch black other than the few tea candles, not that either parties would know due to the bonding around their eyes.

Unexpectedly, the feeling of dread that she assumed would stem from hearing ghosts, wasn’t what had her shaking. It was the overwhelming presence of her boyfriend, she could practically feel him breathing down her neck from several steps away.

But how could he help it? Matt leaned back against the wall, heart pattering painfully as he reached down to palm the raging erection that was now prominent through his pants. Fuck- how was I supposed to focus on ghosts when I was this fucked up? His head tipped against the hard brick wall, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he resisted the urge to fist his cock.

The room was freezing, sending the hairs on his arms straight up as he fought his inner turmoil. Fuck it. Within seconds he was ripping the headset from his head, the thin fabric covering his eyes flowing to the floor immediately after.

Y/n stood in the same place as before, nipping at the skin around her thumb as she awaited .. anything. A whisper, a random breeze, words, anything that indicated something paranormal. Minutes after minutes went by, before she sucked in an abrupt breath.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt a gust of air graze from behind her, before vanishing within mere seconds. It was as if a spider had crawled past her, the fight or flight instincts fully in activation. That was before a low voice was spoken through the speaker of the headphones, making her flinch.

Behind you.

Y/n froze in fear, shaking violently as she fought back tears. “Matt?” Her voice came out wobbly, cracking nearing the end of her sentence. Even if he had replied, she wouldn’t have been able to hear due to the headphones.

Matt watched as the girl froze, lips curving into a smirk as he stalked forward. His poor baby, he cooed to himself, finally using his one hand to girl the side of her waist from behind. “Shh..” He quieted the timid girl as she lurched forward, obviously not expecting the touch.

Y/n felt her shoulders tense, her blood running cold as a hand squeezed her waist. It was Matt- it had to be. The sane part of her knew it was him, but the other told her it was an entity. This fear only multiplied by ten as another hand reached out from behind her, slim fingers dragging across her trachea.

Matt bit down on his lip as he felt the girls body shake against his, his fingers fiddling with the locket around her neck. He couldn’t help but reminisce the memories of the night he’d gifted to her, the events feeling oddly recent. It was their two year anniversary, and also the week before her birthday.

He wanted the girl to feel special, for her to know that she was everything he could ever dream for. It was a small butterfly locket that embroidered her birthstone right in the middle, the jewel glimmering against her untainted skin during any given moment of the day.

He quickly came to realize his love the necklace that same night. As the girl straddled his lap in the seat of his car, the small charm dangling down against his neck as she tightened herself around his cock, riding him like her life depended on it.

She practically went limp in his lap, her chest falling against his as she breathlessly moaned next to his ear. He locked away the lewd sounds in the back of his brain, seeing as it was odd that she was overly expressive in bed. He always knew she felt good as her hands gripped the sheets, or went he felt his dick being practically suffocated by the walls of her pussy as she clamped around him.

Matt let the thoughts cloud his mind, the desperation of needing her becoming overwhelming. “Fuck.” He whispered to himself, the hand that brushed against her neck flattening against the surface, entrapping the sides of her neck in his strong hand.

Almost immediately after, a whimper came from the girls lips. “Matt?” Yes. He wanted to say it so fucking bad. Hold the girl to his chest as he assured her it was him who had gotten ahold of her. But something.. portentous came over him.

The triplet felt the girls pulse thrum in his hold, a sadistic feeling setting in his heart. Something told him to slam her against the side of the wall, to fill her up so good with his cock, proving that he was the only person capable of making her feel so good, her eyes rolling back into her skull as she realized it was him.

He blew out a breath, shakily removing the headphones from atop her head, tossing them off to the couch. “Baby..” Y/n’s shoulders fell with relief, breathing out a deep sigh as she recognized the voice to be her boyfriends. Though, at the exact moment of relief, her stomach tightened at the tone of voice she knew all too well.

The same husky octave his voice dropped to whenever he got himself worked up, slowly drifting off into a whiny one as he begged to be inside her. “Stop fucking with me, Matt.” The girl finally managed to hiss out, shifting in his hold.

He groaned as her ass dug into the tent in his jeans, still fighting against his hold. “Cut it out.” He snapped, squeezing the outside of her neck lightly, the gesture a clear warning. Y/n rolled her eyes, anger consuming her.

“You scared the hell out of me.” Matt chuckled a bit, hearing the whine in her voice as she spoke. “You know I’m not good with all of this, be gentle.” She murmured.

His heart swooped a bit as he hummed, placing a peck on the back of her head. “Gentle, hm?” The girl bobbed her head, still experiencing the aftershocks of the momentary fear she’d experienced. “I’ll be so fuckin’ gentle with you, doll.” He whispered against the shell of her ears, making her shiver.

Her hand instinctively reached around to unbind the tie around her eyes, the motion being halted as a larger one caught her hand. “Leave it.” Matt muttered, the girl slowly lowering her hand to her side as she hearted the warning in his tone.

What the fuck had gotten into him?

The hand that was on her waist slowly trailed down her side, sensually grazing her hip dip before his fingers began to toy with her shorts button. “These are adorable, baby.” Matt murmured as he looked down at his own movements, feeling lost in his own thoughts.

He’d been thinking it all night. The girl looked too fuckable. Even if it wasn’t purposeful, her every move had the triplet leaning on a wall as he begged his body to not react the ways it begged for. Sam had even stopped him at one point during the night, placing a hand in his shoulders as he gave his friend a look of concern.

“You alright man?” He’d inquiry.

Matt could only offer a dry nod as he leaned off of the wall, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he did his best to adjust his raging hard on without the rest of the group noticing.

Y/n’s breath hitched as the ends of two of the males fingers slowly dipped down the hem of her shorts, the material scraping against her thighs that were painfully clamped together, her body now reaching to much more sensitively with his touch. “Matt,” The girl whispered. “Your brothers are literally right outside.” She hissed.

He hummed, chuckling as he heard the girl whimper when she felt his fingers scrape along the lace of her undergarment. “Guess you’ll have to be quiet then, huh?” Much to her dismay, Matt’s hand withdrew itself from her small shorts.

A sense of relief filled her simultaneously, knowing that she wouldn’t have to force herself to stay silent if he really had decided to go further, but with that came the frustration end. Matt had been fucking with her all night, nothing short of grabbing her ass whenever she bent over to arranged the EMF cord, or whispering sinful things into her ear.

Shocked, a yelp escaped her mouth as she was suddenly being lifted from her feet, two hands snuggly wrapped around her lower waist from behind. “What-” She cut herself off, jaw going ajar as Matt spun her around, the two hands slipping down and cupping the undersides of her thighs. “What’re doing?!” She whispered.

The look of absolute horror on her face made Matt’s eyes twinkle with love, being completely immersed in her every expression. “Giving the ghosts a show.” He whispered, a smile creeping on his lips as he watched her pupils dilate.

She felt her back press against the cold stone wall, her oversized leather jacket scraping against the rock as he adjusted her body against the surface. The girls legs instinctively wrapped themselves around the males sides, her bottom landing on his thigh as he pressed knee against the wall as a makeshift seat.

“Like’ my pretty little trophy.” She felt the blindfold feather down from her eyes, gazing down at him with a heavy stare as he inhaled deeply, chest heaving. Both of his hands rested on her hips, molding around the area as he guided her lower half closer.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, fighting back the moan that threatened to bubble up as her core ignited with a burst of arousal, the hardness of his thigh pressing into her heat. “Fuck- Matt.” She gasped out, sending him a glare.

His blue eyes flicked up to hers, a smirk crossing his plump, a small pop sound registering in the girls ear as she looked down. Matt effortlessly undid the button of her shorts, following the action with tugging the denim down her smooth thighs. “Say the word.” Matt’s tongue twinge the inside of his cheek as he pulled the shorts down her thighs, stopping mid way to look up into her eyes.

He waited, and waited, just for her to tell him to stop. But he was met with silence. That was until two hands were gripping the neckline of the triplets shirt, pulling him closer into the warmth of her body. “Just- do something.” She finally managed out, a whine drawing out at the end of her plea.

Matthew immediately began to slip her bottoms off, chuckling huskily as he shook his head. “Such a little brat.” She leaned her weight on the surface of his muscular thigh, lifting her hips for easier access as Matt tugged the denim the rest of the way down, the shorts slipping down and hooking around her one ankle.

The male didn’t move with haste, taking his sweet time to lower himself to his knees, carefully lifting and placing the girls legs around his broad shoulders. Matt’s hands softly pry her thighs apart, littering small pecks to the inside of the dewy skin as he made his way through her two plush thighs.

One touch, one little graze of his lips against the lace of her faded pink underwear was all it took for her thighs to clamp around his head. With hooded eyes, he flicked his gaze up to the unknowing girl. “Baby,” Her head snapped down as she heard him tut, catching the look of his face. “Open your damn legs.” He muttered, hardening his gaze.

He didn’t have ask twice. “Atta’ girl.” He praised as her thighs parted, leaving the perfect amount of space for his head to slip between. Y/n assumed that the demand was finally going to result in her being touched. But much to her dismay, he continued to taunt her.

Whimpering as he nipped at her thigh, right next to where she needed him, she reached down and threaded a hand through his tousled hair. “Don’t give me that half assed shit.’ She whined, gritting her teeth a bit as the sexual frustration grew.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, his fingertips teasing the hem lace of her underwear.

He leisurely slid the itchy material down her thighs, biting down on his bottom lip as he caught sight of her glistening core. “All for me. huh, baby?” Y/n nodded with a small hum, chest heaving as she peered down at him, Matt’s perfect lips pursing as he blew a cold stream of air onto the sensitive skin of her pussy.

“Matt.” His one hand that gripped the underside of her thigh lightly squeezed the area. “I know baby, I know.” He murmured. Within seconds the frustration she felt had passed, as Matt’s lips began moving against her lower ones. “Fuck.” She moaned breathily, her head falling back against the wall.

His tongue slipped between her slick folds, harshly lapping at her core as if he was savouring every inch of her. “So fuckin’ good.” He moaned softly against her.

Her eyes that had lulled shut with pleasure, slowly pulled open at the sound of Matt’s small whisper. “Huh?” She reached her hand down, running her fingers through his brunette hair before gently tugging his head up.

“What’d you say?” Y/n patted his cheek lightly, trying to snap him out of whatever hazy high he’d put himself in. As more wetness trickled down the insides of her thighs, Matt’s eyes had visibly blurred over, pupils dilated as he looked up at his girlfriend with need. “S’just so good.” The boy panted out.

Eyebrows knitting together, and lips parting as she went to reply. “Jesus!” It was replaced with a choked moan, her head thrown back in pleasure while Matt’s tongue reconnected with her heat, dragging a long stripe up her core. He felt her pulse against his tastebuds, locking the sounds she made every time he’d nudge her clit.

The triplet’s mind was utterly corrupted by the girl. Y/n this, Y/n that, god Y/n tasted so good, I wonder what Y/n would feel like- his thought process was entirely fucked. Leading to the current, the tip of his nose grazing her clit as he buried his face into her throbbing pussy. “Fuck.” He moaned with a slight slur, both hands down gripping each sides of her thighs.

Y/n’s eyes were squeezed shut, mouth ajar as she wondered what had gotten into her once tame and collected boyfriend. “Matt,” She’d whimper out every few seconds, the light melodic rhythm of her voice going completely deaf to the man’s ears, as he desperately lapped at her sopping heat.

It was only until he felt the girls thighs begin to clamp around his head that he was brought from his foggy mindset, hooded eyes dragging up to the breathless girl while removing his mouth from her pulsing core. “sweetheart,” he panted, running his ring clad hand down his jaw. “Don’t get me wrong, I fuckin’ love it,” He chuckled, making her roll her eyes with a small whimper.

“But I can’t really fuck you with my tongue, if you’re doing that.” She blew out a small sound of confusion, before spotting the pink area or skin behind his both ears, his diamond studs having pressed down against the skin whenever she’d clamp her thighs around his ears. “Can I?” He mumbled, lifting a brow.

She nodded pitifully, gripping his hair in her small hand ushering his face back to her drenched core. “Mhm.” Matt huffed out a sound of amusement, but like the gentleman he was, continued to guide the girl to her release. “Yess.” The hand in his hair gripped the tendrils harshly, pulling him closer into her as he swirled his tongue around the bundle of need.

He couldn’t help but glide his own hand downward, lightly palming over the obvious tent in his jeans. Matt neglected his aching cock for the extended period of time, ever since he saw her in that sexy little get up. Or when she’d accidentally brush her ass against his dick when she flailed backward into his body when frightened.

It wasn’t because he hadn’t felt the need to though. Not at all. In fact, he’d fought and resisted the temptation of slipping his hand into his jeans, fisting the aching hard on he sported just by the mere sight of Y/n. Or to grab the girl, nudge her into a random haunted room, and to slam his cock into her the second he tugged the denim shorts down her thighs.

Then there was her.

Matt was simply content with mind-fucking the girl, taunting and teasing her throughout the sinister night. Her every tantalizing move alluring him further, making his eyes gleam with a darkness that begged to be released with a quick fuck.

And because it was an escape, a distraction, she didn’t mind. “Gonna’ cum.” Y/n gasped out, feeling his lips pepper wet pecks all around her beating heat, groaning as he placed a final one directly over her dripping core.

The girls hips moved against his working lips as she felt the ball in her abdomen begin to unravel, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth opened in a silent moan. Matt’s eyes slid up to her as she came, lips quirking up as he watched her shatter in his hands.

Back arching as she pushed her dripping pussy closer to his lips as he lapped up her release, the familiar taste touching his tongue with an addictive undertone. He couldn’t get enough, fighting the urge of his eyes rolling back as his hands roamed every inch of her soft skin.

Y/n whimpered softly, watching the magnifying boy place two last kisses on the inside of either thigh’s. “sorry.” She whispered, making Matt’s eyebrows raise with surprise. “Sorry? Sorry for what, baby?” He laughed a bit, running the back of his hand across his damp lips.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, turning her head away. “I don’t even know- it’s just embarrassing.” Matt scoffed, dragging her underwear and shorts up her thighs while raising from his haunches.

“Nothing you could ever say or do, would be ‘embarrassing’.” He said firmly, pulling her shorts over her supple ass. “always’ my perfect girl.” He murmured, pressing his index and middle finger into her cheek, tilting her hed his way again.

The girl blushed, nipping at her bottom lip as she shifted foot to foot. “Do you want me to..” she trailed off, nodding toward the tent in his pants. Matt rolled his eyes, running the hand down her hair as he pulled her closer. “So bad it fuckin’ aches for you.” He grunted.

She immediately reached down to tug at the button, her hand being caught by a larger one. “hey,” Matt chuckled, making her flick her gaze up to his. “I thought-” She squealed, taken aback as his lips pressed onto hers.

The hand atop her soft hair drifted down to cup the side of her neck, Matthew’s thumb rubbing back and forth across her steadily beating pulse. “but,” He whispered. “I would much rather have this little mouth,” He muttered in between kisses. “on my cock after I’ve gotten you all warm. Bathed, fed, and in some comfortable clothes.” he chuckled, his other thumb running along the underside of her bottom lip.

There noses brushed each others even after they pulled away, Matt looking to be pondering as he looked off. “Hm..” She rose a brow, a grin spreading cross her raw lips. “Preferably something of mine.” He said, flicking his gaze back to hers.

Y/n’s eyebrows rose, tilting her head aside as he smiled up at her boyfriend. “Yours, huh?” She mused, her grin growing at his firm nod. “What about that white fresh love-” She yelped as a hand collided with the skin of her thigh, winching as he rubbed over the now pink skin.

“Always a brat.” He murmured, a smirk growing on his lips as he watched her thighs squeeze together at the action. Little masochist. “Maybe the bath and change of clothes can wait..” Her eyes lit up, opening her mouth to retort brattily.

Bang!

“Holy fuck!” Y/n cried, gripping onto her boyfriend’s arm as a ringing noise echoed through the void room. Matt went still, but managed to breathily laugh while patting the girls head. “Kid- you’re fine-” He attempted to assure, but flinched and cursed himself when he heard glass shatter. “Jesus.” He muttered, eyes wide as he snapped his head behind him.

The door flew open, the silhouette of four men standing in the door way. “I’m dead- I’m dying tonight-” she rambled, shaking her head rapidly as she gripped onto Matt’s muscular forearm. Matt laughed through the fright, faltering from his stance above her. “No you’re not, doll.” He chuckled.

“Ouch!”

Matt winced, pulling his forearm away from the girl. “You pinched me.” He sounded betrayed, cradling his tattooed arm to his chest as he looked down at his fearful girlfriend.

“It’s because I love you.” She whined, a small cry at the end of her sentence as she heard a door creak. “And I’m sorry I never got to go down-”

“Boo!”

The couple screamed, Y/n throwing herself into Matt’s arms. Sam and Colby stood side by side, the blonde grinning ear to ear as he held up the medium sized camera. He looked enthralled, whereas the two looked petrified. “How’d it go?!” Nick, who stood not behind joyed.

Y/n’s shoulders fell seeing the friend she knew and trusted, but ran a hand down her face as it fell back on the wall. “Oh my god.” Matt threw his brothers a glare, hands trembling ever so slightly. “You scared the shit out of me, guys.” Y/n laughed.

Sam and Colby brought the camera a little closer, the couple squinting from the light. “How was it? Hear anything ghostly.” Colby mused, laughing a bit.

Matt and Y/n looked at each other, eyes wide. “Uh..” The girl snapped her head in the direction of the friends, rushing to find some kind of excuse- or lie. “Glass!” She exclaimed, making the group of four all look toward each other in confusion.

Matt felt himself confused as well. “Ow!” Y/n sent him a warning glance, slapping his shoulder. “Oh fuck- yeah, that.” Matt looked back at Colby. “Glass.. broke?” He said, looking back at his girlfriend for reassurance. She nodded in alliance. “Yep. Loud.” Matt nodded along.

Suddenly the couples current position registered to each other, as well as their friends. “So..” Y/n mumbled, lips drawing into a line as she slid down the wall and out from her boyfriend’s body. “Yep, it was very spooky.” Patting his chest once, Matt looked down at his girlfriend with a toothy smile.

God she was cute.

Nick made an expression of realization, face scrunching up as he faux gagged. “Geez, guys.” He groaned, rolling his eyes as he saw the discarded headsets and blindfolds. “That was me.” Matt and Y/n looked at each other, before looking back at the eldest triplet.

“.. I tripped over a lantern, okay?!” He confessed, a blush spreading across his cheeks from both embarrassed and having been exposed to whatever rendezvous his brother and girlfriend were having. “And I heard screaming, that definitely wasn’t out of fear- longgg before I did that-” He attempted to deflect.

Chris immediately cut him off. “Nick-nick. Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, nudging his side.

“Okay!” Sam interrupted, cheeks slightly red as he looked around at the group. “We’ve been filming for over two hours, which is more than enough. Anyone wanna’ catch dinner?” He put his hands together, grinning sheepishly.

Me and Matt stayed silent, Chris’s and Nick’s hands flying up simultaneously. “Me.” They both say, voice overlapping each others.

“Great!” Sam exclaimed, sending a quick smile our way.

As the group dispersed the room, Matt slowly let his head fall against Y/n’s chest, letting out a small whine. “Holy shit.” His voice came out muffled, lips mushed against her goosebump-ridden chest.

She patted his head a few times. “I know. I know.” Oh god, did she know.

୨ৎ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 －

@tvdelrey @luverboychris

[sylvestris123]

What does the pre-Fall scene actually mean?

I’ve been thinking about that first scene, with pre-Fall Crowley. We are all swooning over how sweet and innocent Angel!Crowley is, and how smitten Aziraphale is, but on reflection there is something odd about this scene.

The action takes place before the rebellion, before the Fall, when bad things hadn’t even been invented yet. So why is Aziraphale already worried about Angel!Crowley getting into trouble for asking questions? Shouldn’t he also be a cute innocent bundle of fluff without a care in the world?

There is a meta that examines this (sorry, I can’t find it, I’m useless at this), which comes to the conclusion that Aziraphale later on is suffering from guilt (that he might have unwittingly prompted Crowley to seek answers and hence fall), but this still doesn’t explain why Aziraphale knows that asking questions might be a Bad Idea, and Angel!Crowley doesn’t. After all, Angel!Crowley has apparently been working “very closely with Upstairs”.  Shouldn’t he be a bit more clued up?

This leads me to think that there are 2 possible explanations for this.

1. Angel!Crowley has been so far out of things playing with stars that he really is clueless about everything (possible but doesn’t really match up to the Crowley that we know today).

2. This is not a true record of events.

Either: it is one of Aziraphale’s memories, but coloured by what he knows today, so the conversation that actually occurred might have been quite different. Maybe it is because of Aziraphale’s less than perfect recall, or maybe the memory was tweaked (e.g. by the Metatron) to emphasize the innocence of Angel!Crowley and the injustice of his later fall.

Or: IT NEVER EVEN HAPPENED AT ALL. Their true first meeting was as S1, on the walls of Eden, and it is all a false memory planted by the Metatron. (This could also explain why we don’t get to hear Angel!Crowley’s name. It’s not actually known, so can’t be added to the ‘memory’). Why would he do this? It could be to make Aziraphale think that Angel!Crowley was so full of joy that he should be reinstated to recapture that innocence.

There are plenty of theories about the other flashback episodes in the series, all of which could be interpreted as showing off Crowley’s 'good' side, to make the thought of his reinstatement as an angel more plausible or even necessary to right an ancient wrong.

If any or all of this is the Metatron’s doing, what is the motive? He clearly loathes Crowley. Maybe reinstatement as an angel would automatically wipe out his memories of being Crowley and all of his Earthly experience, so you would end up with a cute innocent (and ultimately useless) angel with no memories of his friendship with Aziraphale. Or perhaps it was a way to get him to come up to Heaven where he could be ambushed and imprisoned.

Or maybe the Metatron always knew that the very concept would go down like a lead balloon and that its aim was to make Aziraphale and Crowley part in such a way that they would be less likely to try to contact each other later.

There are so many pieces to this puzzle. Just when I think that a couple might go together I find others that don’t fit with the patterns already made, and which sometimes seem to belong to a different puzzle altogether. I’m sure that I already have 5 corner pieces.

[yesihaveaobsession]

Married?! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE I AM?!

Alastor x female reader

Summary: The hotel was hosting a grand party, sipping some champagne. The reader (you) woke up the next day with no remembrance of last night... Neither does Alastor all but you're married.

A/N- Alot of shows have made parodies of this situation (psych, Smallville) are some I know. SO... why not make it Hazbin Hotel? Enjoy! OMG This is so long for me, but I just couldn't help myself haha!

You woke up with a groan, your head throbbing and your mind hazy. The last thing you remembered was attending a party that the hotel was hosting. It had been filled with laughter, drinking, and... a witch? You couldn’t remember exactly. Slowly opening your eyes, you noticed something very odd—and fluffy. A white dress was draped over you. A wedding dress?

You shot up in what seemed to be a random bed with red silk sheets, definitely not neat. Your eyes widened as you looked around. The room was unfamiliar, and your thoughts swirled with confusion. "What the...?" Your heart raced as you spotted a certain someone lying down next to you—Alastor. He was in a sleek black suit, very traditional, weirdly so. His red tie was slightly loosened around the collar, and his hair was disheveled. But it was the bewildered look on his face that threw you off. He sat up at the same time, holding his head with one hand and groaning, blinking rapidly.

“Darling, care to explain why you’re dressed like a bride?” Alastor asked, amusement and confusion lacing his tone. His smile was strained, and his eyes calculated everything around him. You stared at him, then down at your wedding dress, tugging at the fabric slightly as if it might magically disappear.

"I was about to ask you the same thing! Why are you in a black suit? And… why does it feel like something insane happened last night?"

He let out a chuckle, though it wasn’t his usual confident laugh—it was more uncertain. "A suit is hardly unusual for me, but the whole ‘marriage’ vibe is rather… concerning, wouldn’t you say?"

The thing was, you and Alastor were JUST friends, nothing more. So, yes, this whole situation was quite concerning. You nodded, then looked at the wedding ring on your finger. It looked official.

You started rubbing your temples, trying to remember what had happened, who was there, and how you and Alastor ended up like this. But the only thing that came to mind was blurred bright lights and chaotic celebration. There was a party, yes. Drinks, music. Something about a witch. You gasped.

"The champagne. Do you think... we were hexed?"

Alastor's red eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and he stood up, dusting off his suit with graceful ease, trying to button up his dress shirt, though some of the buttons were torn off and missing. You groaned again and lay back down on the bed. This just kept getting worse and worse, you thought.

“Ah, that would explain the faint magical aura I detected. I distinctly recall a witch among the guests last night.” He seemed to be piecing the puzzle together. “Perhaps she spiked the champagne as a little... prank?” He added, watching as you rose from the bed and braced yourself on the bedside table, still in disbelief.

"So, we might’ve gotten... married?" you asked, panic creeping into your voice. Once again, you were just friends. Sure, there were moments of flirtation, but it was harmless. Right? But this... this was a completely different level.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ah, it would seem so. How scandalous! Though I must say, you do make a rather lovely bride.”

Your cheeks flushed. "This isn't funny, Alastor!" you said, combing a hand through your hair.

“I never said it was, my dear. Merely amusing.” Deep down, you knew he was enjoying this because that’s how he was. “But fret not, whatever occurred last night, we will sort it out. I doubt we were legally married—this is Hell, after all.”

You breathed out a small sigh of relief and placed a hand on your hip, though your mind was still racing. “We have to figure out what happened. Maybe the witch can reverse whatever she did.”

Alastor snapped his fingers, and the two of you were in your usual attire. Thank goodness. You couldn't imagine walking around in THAT. Alastor, without wasting another second, offered his arm.

“Then we shall hunt her down. A little mischief never hurt anyone—though I can’t help but wonder, should we really undo such a glorious mistake?”

You shot him a look, although a part of you couldn’t deny the bubbly feeling inside. “Let’s just find that witch, Radio Demon.”

As you both made your way out of the room, heads still spinning from the absurdity of the situation, one thing was for sure—last night had been one hell of a blur, and the fallout was only just beginning.

As you made it down the hotel hallway, flashes of the previous night started creeping back into your mind like pieces of a fractured puzzle. At first, it was blurry, a swirl of laughter, the sparkle of champagne flutes clinking together, and the pulsating beat of music that made the entire room feel alive.

You winced as a sudden vision hit you hard. You saw yourself with a champagne glass in hand, standing next to Alastor. The room was bathed in warm, golden light. Guests swirled around in laughter, but your focus had been entirely on him. He was smiling brightly as he leaned down to whisper something into your ear. You couldn’t quite make out his words, but you remembered your heart skipping a beat.

“Are you alright?” Alastor’s voice cut through your haze, pulling you back to the present. You blinked up at him, slightly dazed.

“I—yeah, I think so,” you murmured. “I’m getting flashes of last night. Like visions or something. I remember music, drinking, and—" Another flash hit you.

You saw yourself on the dance floor, laughing with Alastor, spinning under the dim light as a jazzy tune played. There was a witch, you remembered her now—she had been dancing near you, swirling her hand over the champagne glasses with a mischievous grin. You could hear her laughing as she raised a glass to you and Alastor, murmuring something about ‘binding forever.’

Your breath hitched as the scene shifted again. You were holding a bouquet—of all things—while Alastor stood beside you, looking as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The two of you were laughing, tipsy from the champagne, surrounded by cheering guests. The witch stood to the side, looking on with smug satisfaction.

"I think we were tricked," you whispered, feeling your pulse race. “That witch—she did something to the drinks. I remember her toasting us, like… like we were the stars of the night.” You looked up at the Radio Demon, and he gazed right back down at you, his eyes gleaming with intrigue.

“Ah, so it wasn’t all a blur to you after all.” He chuckled. "How delightful. I always did enjoy a well-planned scheme.”

You closed your eyes, focusing again. “We were on the dance floor, Alastor. We were… we were close. And she was watching us the whole time.”

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, his smile sharp. “Sounds like we were the unsuspecting targets of her little game. How charming.”

“We didn’t choose this,” you said softly. “It was a spell or a hex—something meant to make us act on…” Your voice trailed off as you recalled the strange sensation of closeness, the magnetic pull between you and Alastor, which had seemed so natural at the time.

“On what, my dear?”

You bit your lip. "I don’t know. Maybe it was supposed to make us... fall for each other.” You whispered. "But why us? Out of everyone? I mean, it's no secret we’re close friends." You asked.

Alastor was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady, though his smile never left his face. “Well, whatever her intentions were, we’ll have to find her and persuade her to undo it, won’t we?”

"Yeah." You agreed, "We have to fix this." You said, determined.

The two of you soon gathered more pieces of the puzzle and found the culprit behind the scheme.

The two of you soon gathered more pieces of the puzzle and found the culprit behind the scheme. The witch's little coven was filled with strange artifacts, potion bottles, and, oddly enough, a dusty wedding arch in the corner. Alastor’s smile turned dangerously sharp as he stepped forward, his voice as smooth as ever. “Well, well, well, look who we’ve found. It seems our mischievous little spellcaster has a penchant for binding souls together. How quaint.”

The witch was now fully aware of your presence and turned around with the same smug grin she had worn last night during the toast, plastered across her face. “Ah, the happy couple! I was wondering when you’d show up. Did you enjoy my little spell?” she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

You crossed your arms with a glare. “You tricked us. What the hell were you thinking?”

The witch, who introduced herself as Dahlia, waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, relax, darling. It was just a harmless bit of fun. You two seemed to be enjoying yourselves quite a bit.”

“Fun?!” Your voice echoed in disbelief as your eyes narrowed. "You made us think we got married. That’s not exactly a harmless prank!”

Alastor placed a protective claw on your shoulder and held you back slightly. You weren’t the type to back down from a fight, and he knew it—that’s why the two of you had become friends in the first place. He then stepped forward with his usual charming smile, barely containing the fury simmering beneath the surface. “My dear witch, while I do appreciate a good scheme, I must say, tampering with my affairs without permission… well, that simply won’t do.”

The air grew thick with tension as Alastor's shadow stretched across the floor. That’s all you could remember because, well, you weren’t sure what happened next.

The spell was lifted, and the two of you walked out of the witch's coven on the outskirts of Hell. As you began walking, you felt a tug on your arm. It was Alastor. You paused, slightly embarrassed to meet his eyes again, but you did.

"Although everything from last night turned into quite the blur," he began, his signature grin returning to his face, "I must admit, it was the most fun I’ve had in quite some time." There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, but his voice carried unexpected sincerity.

You couldn’t help but laugh despite the situation. "You know, I think I agree with you. It was… strange and confusing, but it wasn’t all bad." You found yourself smiling at the memory of dancing with him, laughing at whatever nonsensical things you’d been talking about.

"Strange and confusing, yes. But there's something to be said about a night filled with such... unexpected excitement. Perhaps, even under the influence of a spell, it revealed something rather intriguing," he added.

Your heart fluttered slightly at his words. Maybe the hex wasn't entirely fake. Maybe what you felt was real.

“Oh, of course. But I must say, if I were to relive such a chaotic evening, I would only want to do so with you, my dear.” He winked, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes but felt the warmth creep up your neck. "Let’s just hope next time, it’s not because of a witch’s prank.”

[solxamber]

Sweet Encounter - Rollo Flamme x reader

You really want the parfait that's exclusive to couples. So you you do what anyone would do, pretend a random stranger in the café is your partner of course.

Rollo week d4!

Rollo Flamme just wants to drink his coffee in peace.

But peace is apparently too much to ask for, because before he can even get halfway through his cup, you plop down into the chair across from him without so much as a warning.

“Hey, sweetheart. I missed you,” you say breezily, flashing a quick smile before spinning around to flag down the waiter.

Rollo freezes, staring at you like you just announced you were engaged. “Excuse me?”

The waiter arrives, and you point cheerfully to the menu. “One couple’s parfait, please!”

The waiter beams. “Ah, yes! It’s always so nice to see young love.” He gives a little bow before walking off.

Rollo blinks. Twice. Slowly.

“...What?”

You turn back to him, smiling like you didn’t just drop an emotional nuke on the poor guy. “Don’t freak out, but I really wanted that parfait, and it’s only for couples. So… here we are.”

His mouth opens. Then closes. He stares at you like you're a puzzle he has zero interest in solving. “You thought the logical solution was to pretend I’m your boyfriend?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

His expression is the perfect picture of disbelief. “Do you do this often? Sit with strangers and declare yourself in a relationship for dessert?”

“Not usually,” you admit. “But today felt special.”

Rollo pinches the bridge of his nose like he's developing a migraine. "This... this has to be a joke. Or some elaborate scheme."

“If I was scheming, I’d at least buy you dinner first,” you say with a grin.

He gives you a long, assessing look. “Do you have any shame?”

“Not when parfaits are involved.” You lean back in your chair, perfectly at ease, as if sitting at a stranger's table and declaring romantic intentions is something you do every other Tuesday. “Anyway, it’s not like you were busy. You were just drinking coffee and brooding or something. Seemed like you could use the company.”

“I was not brooding.” His frown deepens, proving your point.

You prop your chin on your hand, smirking. “Sure you weren’t.”

He exhales sharply, clearly regretting every life choice that brought him to this moment. "Why me, of all people? Why not... literally anyone else?"

“Because you looked lonely,” you say simply. “And a little pissed off, honestly. I thought it’d be fun.”

His eyes narrow. “That’s an odd definition of fun.”

Before you can respond, the waiter returns, carrying a gorgeous, towering parfait topped with fresh fruit, whipped cream, and a drizzle of chocolate. He places it in front of you with a flourish.

“For the lovely couple.”

“Thanks!” you chirp, grabbing a spoon. You gesture toward the other spoon. “Want some?”

Rollo crosses his arms. “No.”

You scoop up a bite anyway. “Suit yourself. Your loss.”

He watches you eat the parfait like it’s a personal affront to his dignity. “You do realize this is ridiculous.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say, popping a piece of strawberry into your mouth. “But at least now you have a weird story to tell people.”

“Assuming I survive this encounter.”

You snort. “Relax. I’m not that bad.”

“That’s a bold statement from someone who just invented a relationship for dessert,” he deadpans.

You grin, not the least bit fazed by his sarcasm. “You’re kinda funny, you know that?”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Well, you are.” You take another bite of parfait, eyeing him thoughtfully. “So, do you have a name, or should I keep calling you ‘sweetheart’?”

Rollo sighs, as though resigning himself to whatever strange fate he’s stumbled into. “Rollo.”

“Rollo,” you repeat, tasting the name. Then you introduce yourself. “Nice. Now we’re not strangers anymore.”

“That’s… not how that works.”

“Sure it is,” you say, giving him a playful wink. “We’re practically best friends at this point. Or soulmates. Whichever you prefer.”

He groans. “Why am I still sitting here?”

“Because you’re having the time of your life,” you say smugly.

He opens his mouth to protest—but then shuts it with a frustrated huff. The worst part is, you can tell he’s not quite as annoyed as he pretends to be. There’s the tiniest twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips, and you know you’ve won.

“So,” you say casually, “since we’re obviously a couple now, you wanna exchange numbers? Y’know, to keep the ruse going.”

Rollo gives you a flat look. “This is absurd.”

“Is that a yes?”

He stares at you for a moment longer, like he’s seriously debating whether or not to walk away. But then, to your surprise, he pulls out his phone.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he mutters, typing in your number with the air of someone signing a bad contract.

You grin. “Because you secretly think I’m charming.”

“I think you’re a menace.”

“Same thing.”

The waiter passes by again, smiling warmly at the two of you. “Enjoying your date?”

Rollo looks like he’s about to combust on the spot, but you just laugh. “We sure are.”

Once the waiter is out of earshot, Rollo glares at you. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are, giving me your number,” you say, flashing a victorious smile. “Looks like I win.”

“This isn’t a competition.”

“Everything’s a competition if you try hard enough.”

He shakes his head, but there’s a flicker of reluctant amusement in his expression. You can tell he’s not nearly as irritated as he pretends to be.

As you finish off the last bite of parfait, Rollo leans back in his chair, watching you with a mixture of exasperation and bewilderment. “You’re not going to leave me alone now, are you?”

“Not a chance.” You shoot him a grin. “Get used to it, boyfriend.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose but doesn’t argue. And for the first time since you sat down, he looks like he might actually be having fun.

Masterlist

[bitterbutblue]

the person you're calling has turned into an ethereal...

let my last thought be you ☆ zzz x fem!reader

characters : Ellen Joe (platonic), Anby Demara, Grace Howard, Zhu Yuan

~ LMAOO U TURN INTO AN ETHEREAL AND ITS THEIR FAULT LMAOOOO.. also i wrote this for my fav artist yurieater69.. hi yurieater69.. <33

warning for zhu yuan's- INACCURATE POLICE TALK. PLEASEEEE IM A UNI STUDENT IDK ABOUT COPS ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

let me see tomorrow ☆ platonic!ellen joe x reader

This was supposed to be one of their easiest missions yet. There wasn't even supposed to be any weapons drawn, for fuck's sake. Lycaon sent in you and her for a reason- an in and out hollows mission. You were her closest... coworker? Could she call you a friend? She would like to call you a friend. You were around her age, but you always managed to somehow balance this odd job and your school work flawlessly- something she deeply envied. You never seemed tired, always at the top of your game. For the longest time she despised you, until you two were sent on this mission.

Just the two of you.

And she realised there was much more to you than just perfection. Of course, perfection is only an idealistic dream but to her you were perfection. Your moments of weakness she found herself overlooking because she had already idealised you in her head. It was really only two hours, yet she found herself regretting not talking to you earlier.

But now, Ellen can only watch in horror, unable to move, staring in horror as you collapse to the ground. She finally manages to move, pushing herself off the ground, dashing towards you.

"Hey, hey, stay with me."

Cool, calm, collected. That's how a maid from Victoria' Housekeeping should be acting but as each second ticks by she can feel herself losing her calm. You lunge at her, fear swallowing your every move and thought as you grab onto her collar.

"Ellen, Ellen I don't wanna turn- Ellen please-"

You both knew it was too late but you were panicking, tears falling before you even know it because you can just feel yourself falling down that abyss. All she can do is watch. She doesn't know what to do, she doesn't know you well. Should she hold you? Should she grab your hand and run? She can feel her own panic surfacing, eyes darting all over the place. Her head feels light, breathing shallow as she tries to calm herself because this isn't about her. This isn't about her.

"Ellen, call Lycaon, Rina, please, Ellen-"

Your begging is all she can hears and she's never heard you sound like this. So afraid, frantic, desperate. Your usual put together self now thrown away as you scramble to keep yourself together.

"Ellen, I'm scared. Ellen, please-"

Her instincts take over, rushing over to you. She holds you in an awkward embrace, collapsing to her knees as she pulls you in close.

"It's okay."

The words sound awkward coming out of her, and she can hear how choked her own voice is. She's scared, she has no right to be but she's scared. She doesn't want to lose you.

"I want my mom, I'm scared. I don't wanna turn, Ellen-"

The last thing you hear is her heartbeat and the last thing she hears is your cries before you go limp. And it's only a matter of time until you start moving again so she grabs her weapon as fast as she can. She doesn't even realise she's crying until she moves to stab her shears through your now-ethereal body. She doesn't even realise she's sobbing and her chest hurts until she hears Lycaon's voice calling out to her. The puzzle pieces click in his head when he sees your weapon lying on the ground and the usually stoic and emotionless Ellen Joe on her knees, tears flowing silently as she lets out choked cries of apologies.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

love me one last time ☆ anby demara x reader

When she fell in love with you, Anby swore to herself she would always put your safety over her own because to her, you were more than the world itself. Working with her in the Cunning Hares is and always will be a danger, and she knows she can't let her emotions get the best of it all. But you always saw it differently. You always wore the softest smile around Anby, one that had her usual stoicism fading into an embarrassed and shy smile. You were her exception, and that was the problem.

Yet this time it was all her fault. She led you guys the wrong way, deeper and deeper into the hollows while thinking you were on your way out. You told her it's okay, you told her that you trusted her no matter what and she just wanted to believe that but the sinking feeling in her gut had her growing more and more worried over time.

You play off how you feel something going wrong, because you wanted to trust her so badly but something was definitely not right. And your theories came true when you feel yourself growing dizzy and weak. Anby catches on, growing more and more panicked when you suddenly stumble and fall to the ground.

"Don't worry- I'll call for someone, I'll-"

"Anby?"

Your voice is so quiet, so hoarse. Her heart drops when she looks into your eyes because she sees it too now and she feels like throwing up. This can't be happening.

Was this... her fault?

"Just stay close."

You were hunched over, her kneeling next to you and she hated feeling so helpless. She hated knowing that right now it was happening all over again, she's losing someone and it's her fault.

"Don't talk like you're dying." She hisses out angrily, scrambling to help you up onto your feet but you refuse to budge.

"Anby please."

You sound tired, drained. If she listens carefully she can hear the hint of fear you are so desperately trying to hide from her.

"Just stay close."

You knew what was happening- you weren't stupid.

"It's not your fault."

Anby didn't register the tears falling until she feels your hand reach up to wipe away the stray tears that are falling from her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

She's never heard herself sound so vulnerable and afraid. The sound of her own voice has her shocked.

"It was bound to happen."

She hated how casual you sounded about it all, how you tried to swallow back the tremor in your voice.

"No it fucking wasn't." She's lost control now. She snaps at you despite the fact that she knows she shouldn't be doing that but she can't help it because she's so scared. "I could've gotten us out, I shouldn't have been..."

She trails off when she sees the look in your eyes. Even now it's still soft and loving and she wants to hold you forever. Instead she pulls you in for a hug. Tight, but gentle. Your hearts are beating against one another, like a perfectly tuned macine.

"It's okay. I'm still me."

She's breaking down now. She can feel how hard you're fighting to stay in this body for just a second longer.

"I love you, Anby."

She can feel herself shaking and trembling, swallowing back her sobs as she whispers out the last words you'll hear- right before piercing her blade through your still-human chest. You slump over, head in her shoulder, a ghost of a smile on your face as she sobs into your still body.

"I love you."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

let us love for another day more ☆ grace howard x reader

Perhaps it was time to put it all to rest. Maybe she had taken it too far this time. You had warned her not to get to carried away at night with her experiments and she keeps brushing you off, promising to be home soon... soon... soon.

You grew sick of waiting for her, so one night you decide to venture off to Belobog Industries on your own. She's been spending too much time with her robots (or her children, as she likes to call them) and staying out this late in New Eridu is always unsafe. So you drive to her, but on your way there you find yourself lost. The surroundings grow unfamiliar, and you feel a cold chill down your spine when you realise your situation.

You've fallen into a hollow.

Grace realises far too late that you're not picking up her calls, and that her messages aren't going through. She panics as soon as she realises, calling Koleda in a frantic rush. They woke Phaethon up at 1 in the morning (frankly, both of them we're still awake so was it really waking them up?). She follows the Bangboo into the hollow, Koleda tailing her.

"Seriously, sis, why didn't you just let her know you would be home soon?"

"Not the time, Koleda."

Koleda pauses when she hears her name slip out of Grace's lips. No pet name, no 'sis' or 'sweet pea'. 'Koleda'. Grace is scared. Her usual, lighthearted self now replaced with a pale, worried and shaky demeanour that has Koleda growing anxious too.

"She's okay, seriously."

"GRACE-!"

The Phaethon's panicked voice causes her to jump, she turns around, quickly identifying the source of the sound. Her heart drops at the sight.

The Bangboo is crouched next to this figure, who is slumped over next to their car. Grace could recognise that figure from fucking anywhere because that's you. That's her fucking wife. A pang of guilt hits her so hard she almost stumbles. She rushes towards you, picking up your limp body in her arms.

"Darling, baby, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Your eyes fluttered open, breathing shallow as you looked up. A ghost of a smile forms on your face.

"Grace.. I made dinner for us.. at home.."

Your voice was weak, shaky and she can feel her throat closing up as she blinks back tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby-"

"Can you take me home?"

Koleda just stands to the side awkwardly, watching as Grace pulls your limp body close to her.

"Yes, let's go home, darling."

Grace knows the situation. Koleda knows the situation. Fuck, even Phaethon knows the situation. You're not making it home.

"I feel weird."

"I know, baby."

Grace pulls you onto her lap, your head resting against her chest as you struggle to breath properly. Ethereal matter is no joke, and Grace knows it too but right now she can't care that they're in a hollow with limited time. All she can think about is you.

"It's gonna be okay, just look at me?"

She can't even have it in her to remain calm, her words come out through her tears as she holds you closer. You can feel her regret through her actions, and you can feel her tears dripping down her face and onto the top of your head as she hugs you close.

"Grace... I wanna go home."

She breaks down now, sobbing messily as her cries echo through the night. She tells you false promises, tells you that you guys are going home. She tells you she will prepare a warm bath for you, and you guys can go to bed together, and sleep in the next day. She tells you it will be alright, and that she will make you breakfast tomorrow. You let out a content sigh, before closing your eyes.

Koleda takes this opportunity, watching you right as you turned to an Ethereal, and strikes it down. Grace can only watch as the rest of you fades from her arms into the air, hugging herself- as if clutching the remains of you to her heart.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

my mistakes haunt my nights ☆ zhu yuan x reader

The day she became the captain of N.E.P.S. was essentially the day she devoted her life to protecting you and people like you. Each night she would come home with a grateful smile that she could come home to you. You spend the rest of the evening cooking dinner together, laughing, talking about whatever case she had going on that day and whatever stupid thing your boss had told you to do during work.

Zhu Yuan put you first. She always had put you first.

So the one time she doesn't, it comes back to get her.

The unpredictability of New Eridu meant that anyone could fall into a hollow any day. Zhu Yuan knew that, so did you. And you trusted that if it were to ever happen, she would find you. And she promised she would. And like predicted, You and other civilians had fallen into a hollow one day. And Zhu Yuan intends to fulfil her promise.

It was just a rescuse mission, save those who have fallen in hollows. The civilians they were after had already been saved, yet they kept mentioning 'someone who ran off'. Zhu Yuan clicks her tongue in annoyance.

"Another one who ran off?"

"Captain?"

She quickly picks up the walkie talkie. They had managed to get the first group out, leaving her and Qingyi trying to find the others.

"Yes?"

"W-we found the others, but..."

"What?"

"We're north of where you are now, you need to come, fast. It's- it's your wife, we think she's-"

She runs. She runs before he even finishes his sentence. She hears the fear in his voice and that fear is what they can't have on field because that fear is what breaks them. Qingyi follows her, right at her tail as they finally find the group of PUBSEC officers that stand with their guns pointed up.

"Captain, she's-"

"PUT THEM DOWN."

She feels her heart dropping when she sees the sight in front of her. You were curled up into a ball, looking pale and sickly and so scared of all the officers that had their guns pointed at you. Your eyes widened when you noticed Zhu Yuan.

"Zhu Yuan- please, they won't let me leave..."

Zhu Yuan's heart stutters in her chest as she approaches you slowly, dropping onto her knees in front of you. She can feel the tears pricking at her eyes because she knows she's too late. She's encountered innocent civilians turning into Ethereals, she learned to predict when it was too late and when there was still time left to save them but this.

"I just wanted to see you at work." You croaked out weakly, holding onto her jacket.

Never has she ever let people see her cry, or have her fellow officers see her in a moment of weakness but she can't hold back this time. She takes in a shaky breath, feeling her tears fall from her eyes as she takes off her glove, before putting a hand to your cheek. You sigh at the skin to skin contact, leaning into her touch and that simple act has her letting out a pained sob.

"I'm sorry, baby-"

She wasn't fast enough. If she had come earlier, you wouldn't have ran to try to help the civilians. Curse you- curse you and your stupidly kind heart and your need to help everyone. Zhu Yuan just wants you to be selfish for once because if you're selfish then you would've still been here, smiling with the intention to go home.

"Are you going to kill me, Zhu Yuan?"

The fear in your voice is evident and Zhu Yuan shuts her eyes tight, taking in a deep breath as she pulls your head onto her lap. She moves a hand, gently stroking your hair. She feels the softness thread between her fingers, and you feel her tears drip onto your cheek.

"I just- wanted to see you."

You were shaking now, gripping onto her hand as if it's a life raft that could ground you, take you home.

"I don't want to die."

Zhu Yuan screws her eyes shut, biting down on her lip to prevent another sob from escaping but she can't stop her shoulders from quaking.

"Please..."

"I love you."

The words flow out of her, unstoppable. She knows this is the last time she can talk to you.

"I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough. I'm sorry, baby, I love you. I love you..."

"Zhu Yuan-"

Your words are hoarse and choked, your grip on Zhu Yuan's arm is so tight. She can feel your nails digging into her skin but she can't care about that in the moment.

"I don't want to die... please..."

"I love you-" she cries, moving to hold your hand tight "I love you, I'm sorry, I love you-"

And she can only watch in horror as you let out a sharp gasp, body freezing up as your eyes widened. And Qingyi steps in, firing a shot right through your head- right before you turned.

Officers could only stand and watch- another successful case, majority of the civilians rescued.

But at what cost?

She couldn't stop herself- she let out a scream, grabbing onto your body and holding it close as she sobbed out meaningless apologies that only fade into the night sky.

Zhu Yuan returned to an dark and empty home, cold and harsh. She takes off her jacket, now stained in your blood, and just stares at it. She stares, and stares, before her knees finally give out as she breaks into loud wails and sobs. She clutches the jacket close, it's the last of you she can hold onto. But also a painful reminder of why it's all she has left.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 13

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

All Falls Down (Prequel)

Series Masterlist

ONCE AGAIN: A BIG ASS SHOUT OUT TO @paigereeder. When I say this chapter would not have gotten done w/o her!!!!

*The gif is what I picture Josh wearing w/ a pair of black Nike shorts and some slides* (in the first part)

~ Friday Night ~

“I’m gonna take ’em upstairs,” Josh whispered to Kiyana just as the credit to COCO started rolling. Kiyana stretched and looked over to her left, where both of her boys were knocked out, leaning on Josh. Kairo thankfully went down at his usual bedtime. Kaiden and Kamari, on the other hand, put up the biggest fight to stay up later with their dad. 

They had almost made it through both movies when their eyes started to droop. Kamari doesn’t play about his sleep. The second he feels Mr. Sandman knocking at his door, he welcomes him with open arms. Kaiden, on the other hand, didn’t want to miss a moment with his dad. He had fallen asleep 15 minutes into the first movie, but when Josh tried to carry him up the steps, Kaiden woke up, protesting that he wasn’t sleeping and he wanted to stay with his dad. 

Kiyana let out a deep sigh when Josh disappeared up the steps with both of their sons—this whole day had been extremely awkward for her. It had only been about four weeks since they signed the papers, and here they were, about to go out on a date tomorrow night. She loved Josh, and nothing would ever change that, but Josh had hurt her badly, and she was terrified of letting him back into her heart. 

Standing up, she started cleaning up the living room, gathering the trash from the snacks the boys and Josh had devoured and taking it into the kitchen. While she was in the kitchen, she decided to pour herself a glass of wine. She went to grab Josh a Diet Coke from the fridge, popped it open, got him a cup of ice, and brought it into the living room for him, placing it on a coaster on the coffee table. 

She continued to tidy up, and by the time Josh came back downstairs, she was done lounging on the couch and catching up on the newest episode of Love Island. Josh plopped down next to Kiyana. He glanced at her, her features illuminated by the TV’s light. Just being this close to her again made him realize how badly he fucked up. She would always be his Key. But, before she was that, she was THEE Kiyana Jackson. Before she had become this powerhouse of a woman, the best mother to his kids, an excellent cook, and a bomb-ass nurse, she was the girl that scared the fuck outta him. He couldn’t even hold a full conversation with her back then because his brain would short circuit; knees weak, arms heavy, butterflies in an all-out war games match in his stomach. The girl that his classmates convinced him he’d never have a chance with because she was leaps and bounds above his league, and he had fucked it up being a dumbass, proving them right.

“You good?” Kiyana asked him with a slight laugh, and he nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up at being caught staring. 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. Kiyana grabbed the remote, paused the TV, and turned her attention to him. 

“Josh.” 

“C’mere,” he whispered, opening his arms for her. “Please,” he added in a hushed tone when Kiyana didn’t move. She bit her lip and looked at him, contemplating whether she should move closer to him. Sighing, she nodded and scooted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder as he closed his arms around her. The second she scooted into his arms, it was like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. 

Josh fully relaxed on the couch and closed his eyes. This is what he was missing. The arguing, fighting, and cheating were not what he and Kiyana were about. Their being at odds felt so foreign, and it was mostly his fault. 

“What the hell is this show even about?” Josh asked after a couple of minutes had passed. Kiyana laughed and turned her head so she could look at him. 

“It’s about finding love.” She whispered as her eyes dropped down to his lips.  Josh leaned in slowly, his heart pounding as he closed the distance between them. Josh deepened the kiss, letting out a low moan as Kiyana shifted her position and was now straddling him, with her legs on either side of his hips. Josh’s hands roamed down Kiyana’s back before finally resting on her ass, firmly squeezing it while pulling her closer to him. 

Josh’s phone started to go off, making the both of them groan in displeasure. “Fuck..” Josh groaned, throwing his back against the couch. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, breathing heavily as he read the text message he just received. Kiyana arched her eyebrow as he ran his hand through his hair. 

“What?” 

Josh bit his lip as he looked at her. “Don’t be mad.” He whispered. “But I’ll be right back.” Josh saw the look of disappointment and doubt in her eyes, and he immediately cupped her face and tried to ease her worries. “Don’t do that. I promise it ain’t about no bitch. I’m forever about you. I just got something I gotta handle.”  Kiyana rolled her eyes and removed herself from his lap, settling back on the couch and crossing her arms over her chest. “Key,” Josh called out softly, cupping her chin and turning her face so she could look at him. “Trust me, I’ll be right back.” Kiyana narrowed her eyes but eventually nodded her head.  

“Fine. I guess I’ll see you when you come back.” Josh smiled and pecked her lips. 

“30 minutes tops.” 

“Mmhm,”  Kiyana hummed, and Josh couldn’t blame her for her suspicion. He had been disloyal and ruined their relationship. But this was something he couldn’t tell her because she would definitely try to keep him in the house. Josh sighed and stood from the couch. He bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Be right back, Key.” She nodded and pressed play on the remote, continuing her show while he walked over to the key hook and grabbed his car keys. Kiyana let him keep his truck in the garage while he was on the road because someone broke into it the last time he left it at his apartment. 

As Josh walked into the garage,  he knew that no matter how much he reassured Kiyana, there was a lingering doubt in her mind—a scar from past betrayals. Settling into the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone and re-read the text message he had received. 

Ms Deb(key’s co-worker): Dr. Daniels gets off in 10 min. Do what you want with that information… oh and he drives a black infinity w/ blacked out windows. Plate: DRDAN.  Ms Deb(key’s co-worker): delete this thread… and treat my girl right! 

Josh smiled at the later message and started his car before backing out of the garage and driving towards the hospital. 

Elijah smiled as he made his way out of the hospital. He had a pretty good day: three successful surgeries, and his wife came and surprised him with lunch with his children. That smile was quickly wiped off his face the closer he got to his car. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Elijah seethed, eyeing Josh up and down. 

Josh smirked and pushed himself off of Elijah’s car. “I told ya’ bitch ass I was gonna catch you again, didn’t I?” Josh sneered as he walked into Eli’s personal space. Elijah gulped as he looked around. Josh had a good 20 pounds of muscle on Eli, and to be completely honest, Eli didn’t want to walk around with another black eye. 

Eli held his hand up and took a step back from Josh. “I don’t have time for this,” Elijah said, trying to steady his voice despite the nerves tightening in his chest. “You need to leave.”

“I ain’t going nowhere.” 

“Look—” Tired of hearing Elijah’s voice, Josh lunged at him, landing a right hook on Eli’s jaw and knocking him to the ground.  

“Yeahhh,” Josh cackled, clapping his hands together. “Getcho’ ass up. You wanna put your hands on women? Come put ya hands on me!” Elijah staggered to his feet, his fists clenched in anger as he lunged at Josh, who quickly ducked it and tackled him to the ground. There was nobody here to stop Josh this time. Josh threw punch after punch, getting all his anger out on this low life. 

“Alright, Alright. Enough..” Josh felt someone grab the back of his shirt, trying to stop him from punching Elijah. “You got him, relax.” 

Josh stopped swinging, his chest heaving with the adrenaline and fury, and looked down at Elijah, who looked like he was one punch away from a permanent coma. Elijah’s face was a swollen mess, eyes barely open, and he lay motionless, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. 

Josh felt his shirt being tugged again, and he let the person move him off Elijah. 

“Damn,” Josh looked, and it was the security guard who broke up their fight last time. “He’s lucky you beat his ass in front of the hospital.” The security guy joked, cracking a smile while holding his hand out for Josh to shake. “Main Event Jey Uso, nice to meet you man.” 

Josh’s eyes widened. “Hey Uce-” 

“I already paused the cameras; as soon as I get back to my desk, I’ll delete the footage. I hate women beaters. I lost my mom that way.” Josh’s expression softened, and he shook the guy’s hand. “I’m happy your ex has someone who sticks up for her. If only my mom had someone.” 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that—” Josh paused, as he didn’t know this guy’s name. 

“Adrian, and hey, it’s cool. You did what you had to do. But uh. You might wanna get outta here. I gotta call this in.” Adrian finished off, holding the walkie-talkie up, and Josh nodded. He glanced down at Elijah, who was starting to move, before giving Adrian a nod, jogging back over to his truck, and leaving. 

Kiyana sat up and looked towards the entryway to the living room when she heard the front door open and close. She knew it was way past thirty minutes because she had watched two more episodes of Love Island. She heard him set the house alarm before he started walking towards the living room. 

“You said thirty minutes.” She muttered before her eyes widened as he walked closer to her and she saw how red and bruised his knuckles were. “Dude, what the fuck?! What did you do?” 

“What I had to.” 

“Josh -” 

“He put his hand on you! He could not get away with that shit Key. I did what I had to do.” Kiyana sighed and gently grabbed his hand, leading him up the stairs and to her bedroom. 

“Sit,” She said, pointing to the bed and Josh quickly obliged. Kiyana then walked into the ensuite bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit before walking back over to Josh and grabbing his hands. 

“You mad huh?” Josh asked, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched Kiyana clean off his knuckles. Kiyana didn’t respond immediately, her gaze focused on cleaning his knuckles. 

“I’m not mad. Just wish you would have told me. Would have loved to get a couple kicks in.” She looked up meeting Josh's eyes and chuckled at the shocked look on his face. “What? I was in shock when he actually grabbed me and he walked away before I could actually T off on his ass.” She said as she stood up and climbed into bed.  Josh stood up as well. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Shoot, next time I’ll let you know then.” He said as he started walking towards the door. 

“Woah! Where are you going?” She asked and he stopped. 

“Was going to the guest room.” He said as more of a question and Kiyana started shaking her head and patted the spot next to her. “Fo’real?” Josh asked, a big ass smile coming onto his face as Kiyana nodded her head. He practically rips his shirt over his head before he throws himself onto the bed next to her, his heart swelling in his chest as he hears her giggle. It has been forever since he’s been the one to make her giggle. 

~ Saturday Afternoon ~

“So you really thinking about giving him another chance?” Kiyana sighed and set down her make-up brush before meeting her mother's eyes in her vanity mirror. 

“Yes,” Kiyana replied softly, her fingers absentmindedly adjusting the brushes in front of her. “Mom -” Kiyana started but Imani held her hand up, stopping her. 

“No, You’re gonna listen to what I have to say, Kiyana Marie.” Kiyana shut her mouth and turned her body so her side was leaning against the back of the vanity chair.  “That man” her mother continued, her voice dripping with disdain,  “Has done so much damage to you. Cheating on you while you were carrying this little angel.” Kiyana rolled her eyes at her mom’s dramatics.  “I was here Key, I seen what his infidelity did to your confidence. I saw the way you frowned at your body when you walked past the mirror and now he gets a second chance for what? To do it all over again.” 

Kiyana felt her shoulders sag as he mother’s words sunk in. “So you think I’m being stupid?” 

“No baby girl. I don’t think you’re being stupid. I just want you to not rush back into this with Josh. I know y’all still love each other and you had to stay in contact with the kids but still remember to put yourself first. Don’t just get back with him because you know Kaiden and Kamari are going to be happy.” 

“I am putting myself first Mom. It’s not just about my sons being happy it’s about me being happy as well. Yes, Josh fu- messed up but everyone deserves a second chance. Isn’t that what you told me? After Dad cheated on you, you stayed. You told me that everyone deserves a second chance.” Imani’s eyes lowered to the floor as Kiyana continued. “Dad has two kids on you and you still stayed. Josh cheated and had no kids. And I tried to move on, but I love Josh and can’t change that.” 

“I just want the best for you Kiyana. And you’re right, I did forgive your father but I don’t want you to be like me. But I understand that you are a grown woman and you need to make these decisions for yourself.” 

“Why are you making it seem like I’m making a mistake?” Kiyana asked, getting irritated with her mother. 

“I’m just saying. You need to learn for yourself. I’m not the only one who thinks this either. Kenyatta feels the same.” Kiyana snorted and turned back around so she could face her vanity again. 

“You mean the serial cheater? He cheated on every girl he was ever with Mom - you know what.” Kiyana paused and took a deep breath. “I’m gonna get dressed now you can go.” 

Imani scoffed “Kiyana” she called out, as Kiyana stood and walked into her walk-in closet. Kiyana rolled her eyes as she came back out with her dress in her hand, hanging off the hanger. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” Imani said, to which Kiyana ignored. Imani sighed, picked Kairo up off the bed, and left the room, shutting the door behind her. 

As the door clicked shut, Kiyana took a deep breath and tried to steady her racing thoughts. The sound of her mother’s voice still echoed in her mind, a mix of concern and frustration. She slipped her dress on, trying to focus on the soft fabric against her skin rather than the knot in her stomach.

~ Saturday Night ~

“You can do this,” Kiyana whispered to herself. Her mom had just yelled up the steps, telling her Josh was there. Kiyana could hear her kids going crazy after not seeing him all day. “It’s just Josh. You been on plenty of dates with Josh before.”  Taking a deep breath, Kiyana smoothed down her hair and checked her reflection in the mirror one last time before walking out of her bedroom and walking down the steps to meet Josh. 

She felt herself blush as he let out a low “Damn.” before clearing his throat and walking over to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. “You look beautiful, Key. Doesn’t she look beautiful?” He then asked his sons and they nodded their heads. 

“You look very pretty Mama,” Kaiden said and Kiyana smiled and him, bending down to press a kiss on his head, 

“Thank you, Bean” She then turned to Josh. “You look nice too.” Josh’s cheeks heated up at her compliment. 

“You ready to go?” He asked and she nodded.

“Be good for grandma.” She said to her kids, giving them a quick hug before stepping out the door with Josh. The short walk to his truck was silent. Josh opened the passenger door for her and grabbed her hand, helping her into the truck. 

“You ready to go?” He asked and she nodded.

“Be good for grandma.” She said to her kids, giving them a quick hug before stepping out the door with Josh. The short walk to his truck was silent. Josh opened the passenger door for her and grabbed her hand, helping her into the truck. 

 Kiyana stole glances at Josh as he drove, admiring the way the streetlights illuminated his profile, casting shadows across his chiseled features. At a red light, Josh reached across the console and gently grabbed her hand lacing their fingers together. Kiyana’s heart skipped a beat as Josh’s fingers intertwined with hers. The warmth of his touch sent a thrill up her arm. She glanced at him, catching a glimpse of the soft smile playing on his lips.

“I’m happy you agreed to this date,” Josh muttered, breaking the silence in the car. Kiyana bit the inside of her lip and she looked over at him. 

 "I'm glad too," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Josh smiled and started driving again as the light turned green, the butterflies in his belly intensifying as he felt her squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” Kiyana smiled at Josh as he pulled out her chair for her. The restaurant he picked was nice and cozy. It was one that neither of them had been at before. He wanted to choose a new restaurant so they could make new memories and weren’t plagued by old ones. 

As Josh settled in his seat across from her, he felt like the luckiest SOB in that restaurant. The second he and Kiyana had walked in, all eyes turned toward her. She had turned so many heads, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at one couple, when the woman reached over and plucked her boyfriend or husband on his forehead when he wouldn’t stop staring at Key. 

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” The waiter came over and set the free bread down on their table. Kiyana ordered a white while while Josh decided to order a water with a lemon. He wanted to stay sober for the conversation he knew they were going to have. 

As the waiter left, Kiyana took a deep breath and looked directly into Josh’s eyes. The dim candlelight cast a soft glow on her face. “I um- I know we agreed to try to move on, but I think we need to talk about everything first.” She said and Josh nodded. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. “What happened? What made you.” She paused as if she couldn’t bear to say it. “What made you cheat on me?” 

The waitress quickly set their drink down and left as she heard Kiyana’s question. The waitress figured they could wait to eat. 

“Oh god,” Josh whispered, sitting up straighter in his chair. “I don’t know if she told you, but I talked to Samara about this already,” Josh stated to which Kiyana nodded. 

“She told me a little. She also told me to just hear you out.” 

“I- I honestly never meant for anything to go that far. Before this conversation continues, I need you to know that. I need you to know that I will forever beat myself up for doing that to you.” When Kiyana nodded he continued. “I just wanted to vent Key. I just wanted someone to talk to about what I was going through without being told to think about your feelings. And yes it was selfish of me but nobody cared about how I felt. God, it’s so fucking selfish but I just wanted someone to talk to and it went too far.” He finished, not breaking eye contact so she knew how serious he was being. 

“But four months Joshua? You were going on the road fucking her then coming back and fucking me.” 

Joshua looked down, his hands trembling slightly. He knew he had hurt Kiyana deeply, and the guilt weighed heavily on him. “I fucked up Key, I fucked up so damn bad.” He looked back up at her. “But I’m willing to do anything and everything to prove my love and loyalty to you again. I already talked to my boss and a couple of the higher-ups. She been harassing me n’shit and I filed some paperwork against her. She can’t come near me or she’ll be fired.” 

Kiyana felt her face scrunch up at what he said. “So y’all were still messing around?”  

Josh started shaking his head ‘no’ immediately. “Hell no. I stopped messing with her around the time I told you about the affair.” 

Kiyana narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, trying to see how sincere he was being with his words. After knowing him for almost twenty-four years, she knew when he was lying and right now he wasn’t. He was telling her the truth. 

“So what about you telling her that you were gonna divorce me for her.” 

“I never said that.” He answered immediately. “I told you back then that I never said that. That was some dumbshit she said and Joe must’ve overheard her.” 

Kiyana went to ask her next question but was interrupted by the waitress. “Sorry, but um- would y’all like to order now?” Josh and Kiyana broke eye contact to look at the waitress. Josh let out a deep sigh a nodded before ordering a steak meal for himself while Kiyana ordered a pasta dish. The waitress hurried up and scurried away.  Kiyana looked back at Josh and asked her next question. 

“Do you regret it?”  

“Of course I do.” Josh's voice was filled with regret as he met Kiyana's gaze, his eyes reflecting the pain he had caused her. “Do you regret sleeping with Joe?” He asked, just as she took a sip of her wine. Kiyana’s eyes widened as she heard his question. Did she regret sleeping with Joe? 

“I don’t regret it.” She finally said, swallowing a lump in her throat as Josh’s jaw clenched. “You hurt me badly Joshua. Like, I was hurt and confused and he was there. It wasn’t about getting back at you because he’s your cousin. It was,” She paused as she tried to find the right words. “It was you had your fun, so why couldn’t I.”  

Taking a moment to compose himself, Josh locked eyes with Kiyana, his gaze intense yet vulnerable. “I understand” He whispered. He reached across the table grasping her hand in his. “I want us to move past all of this. Do you want there to be an us? Do you want to move past this?” 

Kiyana squeezed Josh's hand tightly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside her. After everything they had been through, the hurt and betrayal, she knew that a decision needed to be made. She took a deep breath and met Josh's gaze. “Yes, I want there to be an us again. I want us to be able to move on from this.” 

Josh's eyes softened, relief washing over his face as he heard Kiyana's words. “Deadass?” 

Kiyana chuckled, nodding her head. “I’m being so deadass right now.” 

“I swear on my life, you won’t regret this Key. Imma do everything I can to prove that I love you and I want you.” 

As they sat there holding hands, a wave of relief washed over both Kiyana and Josh. The weight of their past mistakes and the pain they had caused each other seemed to lighten ever so slightly. They both knew that rebuilding their relationship would not be easy, but they were willing to try. 

“Are you staying here tonight?” Kiyana whispered as she and Josh walked to the front door of her house. 

“If you want me to,” Josh replied and Kiyana nodded, grabbing his hand and leading him into the house. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her ass. Loving the way it swayed as she walked. She kept a firm grasp on his hand as she set the house alarm and walked up the steps. Both of them peeked into their kids' rooms to make sure they were tucking in and sleeping. 

Josh’s heart was beating extremely fast as Kiyana led him into her room.  Kiyana turned to face Josh, her eyes almost black with lust. She closed the distance between them, her body pressing flush against his, and Without a word, she reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him. Kiyana moaned softly into the kiss, her body trembling with need. She broke away, panting lightly, her eyes locked on Josh's.

“You sure?” He asked and instead of giving him an answer, Kiyana undid the back of her dress and let it fall down her body. Josh watched as the dress fell to her feet, leaving her in just her white lace thong. 

“I’m sure” She whispered before capturing his lips again in a searing kiss. 

KiyanaJackson_

liked by: trinity_fatu, uceyjucey and 3,000 others

view all comments

user: she is 2 fine!

trinity_fatu: girl! 🔥

user: WHO TF WOULD CHEAT ON HER? A DUMBASS THATS WHO!

marrraaa_ : fuckable 🤤

Sorry for any grammar and/ or spelling mistakes. I am dead tired and I wanted to get this chapter out.

Sooo how was this chapter? Give me y'all honest thoughts!...

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

🏷️: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @empressdede @harmshake

@theninthwonder @alyyaanna @nbanenefrmdao @raya-hunter01 @msbigredmachine

@paigereeder @amandairene88 @woahthatshitfat @allmyn1ghts @reignsboy19

@cyberdejos2 @saintaquarius @bebesobrielo @scarlettnoir01 @alichesmi

@xiamentshoneypot @hunnidmilly @jeyusos-girl @li-da-savage @qveenmikaelson

@black-yn @mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sheydnni @zillasvilla

@thatone-girly @xmonetsworld @jeysbae @kill-the-artiste @simpin4pixels

@mindairy @that-one-anxious-mango @mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs @vebner37 @trashbin-nie

@adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa @angiedawn02 @rianasixx @bookuce

@sageispunk @yourbane @yana3sworld @kat3457 @queeny23

@privateeyed95 @melonberry

[1d1195]

Most VI

Read Most here | ~4.3k words

From me: I think you guys don't give me enough credit for NOT putting cliffhangers in some of these (jk, I'm the worst lol) This part is a little shorter than the most recent parts --I was going to combine it with the last part, but decided to keep it self-contained because it seemed better that way. One more part to go! :)

Warnings: Lauren, angst, and a house fire. Please suspend your belief.

Summary: Harry finally figures out why she left. He just hopes it's not too late.

Harry was buzzing. His shift went by so fast knowing she was at the end of it.

Harry stopped to get her coffee. It was two in the afternoon when he finally left work, went home to shower, then make his way back toward her place. There were a lot of things that changed, but he hoped some hadn’t. Such that she would be getting up from her nap and would want a coffee.

“Hey, Lo,” Harry said as he entered the shop with a wave. Lauren was waiting on others in front of him, so he stood in line analyzing the menu wondering if she liked something different now. He couldn’t stop smiling, he could feel his cheeks nearly bursting. “What do y’think the chances are that she likes the same drink?” Harry asked as he approached the register.

It took a minute for Harry to notice that Lauren didn’t answer. He looked down from the menu and was totally confused by the expression on Lauren’s face. “You really love her? After she broke your heart?”

He stared at her. Unsure of where the question came from. Especially from her. Harry still didn’t know Lauren extensively, but it was an odd question to ask anyone and even odder for her to broach it.

But Harry would answer it any day. “Of course I do, Lauren. Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head. “You deserve so much more than her,” Lauren’s eyes filled with tears and her voice cracked.

Harry’s brain worked slowly. Those words were familiar. Too familiar. The way she said them. The emphasis. His breathing felt erratic, and he realized too late that he was in flight-or-fight mode. The way his body started to shake. None of the puzzle pieces were fitting together but at the same time they were. All of them. Like he knew what happened the day she left as if they were said to him himself. “What... Lo... what did y’say?” It sounded like something she had said to him no less than eighteen hours ago. Her reasoning for that day.

Lauren covered her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut. Then, when she spoke, her words were caught on a choked sob. “She wasn’t supposed to come back! You weren’t supposed to wait for her!”

Harry took a step back. The coffee shop was too small suddenly and he was way too close to her. “Lauren,” his voice was low. His heart was aching; like it already knew what happened but unable to fully believe it. “What did y’do?” He whispered. But now, in the few seconds he had to reminisce where it went wrong. Harry thought back on it, he thought about the way Lauren’s grip had felt around his neck when he helped carry her to bed.

All that time...

It’s not fair.

Harry shook his head of the memory trying to focus on how he felt now. “Lauren,” he repeated. “What did y’say t’her?”

“I just thought that if she was gone you would see there was more than her for you.”

He backed up again, like she had slapped him. He bumped into the display behind him knocking a few bags of coffee grinds to the floor. “How could you?” He shook his head, it felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. There wasn’t enough air. All that time just gone because of someone’s rotten jealousy. “You’re supposed to be her friend!”

“I–I… I don’t know… I just thought–”

“Did y’even message her all that time? Did y’even try?” He shouted. There was only a half dozen people in the coffee shop, but they all stared at Harry’s outburst.

“Oh... oh, my goodness,” someone whispered. Someone who very clearly knew what happened between her and Harry three years ago and how Lauren, if she was anyone’s friend, would have done anything to help them. But she didn’t. She let Harry suffer and watched him order countless coffees and asked if she had heard anything from her.

“Harry—”

“How could you?!” He shouted. It was pure silence this time. Lauren covered her mouth again and sobbed. “Three years, Lauren! Three years I have been half alive without her. How could y’do that t’her? How?”

“I-I—”

“Eleven hundred days, Lauren! Eleven. Hundred. One thousand, one hundred, twenty-seven days. Six birthdays, three Christmases, three anniversaries, that we’ll never get back because of you.”

Harry might have felt bad had Lauren tried to get him to leave all those years ago instead of her. Because if Harry had left, he would have been the stupidest person alive and he would have deserved to feel broken and terrible for three years. But it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know why Lauren said it. She didn’t know how Lauren’s hand had felt on the back of his neck. Lauren preyed upon the sweet girl’s insecurities and extorted the kindness she possessed.

Lauren betrayed her friend. She broke both their hearts because she was jealous. So, Harry didn’t feel bad. Not even a little.

He shook his head, his anger and frustration reaching a boiling point and he needed to get out of there and punch a tree before he did something stupid. Without another word, without another thought of Lauren and what she did, he started for the exit quickly.

However, when his hand touched the door there was one last thing he needed to say. Hopefully, it was going to be the last thing he ever said to her. “Don’t ever speak t’her again, Lauren. She’s too kind t‘say it and I don’t want her t’know. So, I’ll say it on her behalf: Don’t. Ever. Speak to her. Again.”

*

Harry sped much too fast in his car the entire way to her apartment building. His mind was racing. Trying to figure out what happened in the three years and how it could have gotten so far away from him… away from her.

Why didn’t he press more that night? Why didn’t he go visit her after a year—no, a week? An hour. Why didn’t he try?

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t even realize there were sirens in the distant background. He didn’t realize people were pointing in the direction he was headed. For the first time since he decided he wanted to help his community and he was going to be a firefighter, Harry didn’t see the smoke.

When he parked off to the side because he knew the trucks would be coming, he searched for the car he saw in the middle of traffic just a couple short weeks ago. He prayed it wouldn’t be there. But it was. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself. He saw a new storage pod outside, but it was locked shut—she wasn’t outside. He dialed her phone number. Praying he was unblocked. He hadn’t texted or called her in the time she had been back. He had deleted her contact info but and her messages fell to the bottom of the list with disuse—it was far easier to type her number than scroll looking for it. The idea he was going to scare her away again far outweighed his desire to have communication with her—seeing her in person was more than sufficient. It was, in a way, slow and old-fashioned, he had bargained to see her by accident.

But now that seemed like the stupidest idea he had ever had.

It had been ages since he dialed her number, but the ten digits were imprinted on his mind like the melody of his favorite song or a tattoo on his arm. He tapped his screen as quickly as he could. Paced in front of the burning door, watching the flames float up curtains and walls swiftly.

He listened to it ring. Which was a miracle.

But there was no answer.

His stomach churned.

He dialed again.

No answer.

Harry started to sweat. He ran a hand through his hair. “Everyone is out,” someone shouted.

But Harry didn’t believe that. Pressed his thumb on her number again.

No answer.

Harry stared at the building. It was supposed to be a saving grace, this building. She was home. But right then, he hated it. With intense passion. Hated it more than anything.

“C’mon,” he murmured to himself.

There was a pause in the ringing. “Mmm… Hi Harry,” she whispered sleepily. For the briefest second Harry forgot the reason for his call. “Is your shift over? Are you coming to me or do you want me to come to your place?” She murmured. God, Harry loved her so much. Even in a dangerous situation, he was so happy to hear his name on her lips. Right when she woke up. It was only seconds between her answer and his sentence but after she had been gone all of time felt slower, he had to fill it with more. He thought of all the mornings he lost with her. All the weekends he would have spent in her dorm waking up on a mattress that was too small for two people, but it wouldn’t have mattered because he could never be close enough to her. He didn’t get to hear her say Hi Harry in a sleepy voice and relish it.

He couldn’t do that now.

“Baby, please tell me you’re not home,” he begged, but he was already pulling his jacket from his car. He would have put his whole suit on if he had it with him, but obviously he didn’t. The jacket wasn’t station-issued but it was flame resistant and it would have to do. It seemed so counterintuitive to cover up more when he was already sweating with anxiety and from the hot summer sun. Next came gloves that he had from helping Gemma cut down trees in her yard. Again, not fire station approved, but they would have to work. 

His eyes stayed glued to the building watching her balcony. This was a nightmare. Worse than any one that Harry ever had of her. He would take another three years apart over this.

“I just... woke up from a nap,” she yawned, stretched. God, he would have paid thousands of dollars just to see it. One brain cell was happy her nap time hadn’t changed.

But this wasn’t the time to worry about her nap. “At... Eleanor’s?” He hoped, squeezing his eyes shut.

She coughed, unaware. “No,” she coughed again. “I’m at my apartment, why?”

He opened his eyes and saw the smoke and fire crawling up to the third floor. The slew of people around him crying and watching as the building went up in flames. Memories lost and trinkets gone. He closed his eyes tight. “Kitten,” he whispered. “I need you t’listen very carefully t’me. Y’need t’stay calm. Can y’do that?”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” He heard her shuffle.

“Baby, m’here. I promise. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you,” he assured her.

“What are you talking about? What’s—it’s,” she coughed again. “Ugh,” she sighed. “It’s super hot in here and the AC isn’t working—I think I have to have the super look at—”

“Kitten,” he rubbed his forehead, terrified of her reaction. “M’outside your building. It’s on fire and you need to get out.”

There was a pause. “No...” she shook her head. Coughed. “No, the smoke detectors didn’t go off.”

It was his worst fear. Her sleeping like the dead terrified him. He always worried something horrible like this would happen. Thank God he called her. But if the detectors didn’t even go off... she didn’t have a chance.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Baby, y’need t’go,” he could see the fourth floor, right below hers—the windows began seeping with thick smoke. She gasped and shuffled back.

“Oh... oh no,” she whispered. “Harry, the hallway...” her voice cracked. “Harry, what do I do?”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and held the phone tighter in his hand. He wished he could teleport up there. He heard water running. Probably a towel or blanket she was soaking while she still could. Good girl. “Baby, y’need t’come to the balcony.”

It was the reason an astronaut wasn’t feasible after all their training that one week. It was why she would never have a kiss on a Ferris Wheel or why she would never reach the top of a mountain hike. Anything higher than two stories was too tall and too scary.

Now more than ever.

She shook her head, Harry couldn’t see her, but he knew it. “I can’t do that... I... I...”

“I know, baby, I know it’s high. But you have to,” he wanted to scream but he had to be calm for her.

She couldn’t even bring herself to the window to look down. Harry was so scared as he thought of how much smoke she was inhaling whether there was a wet blanket around her head or not. “I can’t,” she croaked. “It’s too high.”

“Kitten, I know,” he agreed. “I know,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “But I need you to get out,” he clutched the phone tighter. “Like right now.”

The sound of firetruck doors slammed from behind him. “Styles! What are you doing here?”

“Someone’s in there,” he shouted back.

“We’ve been told everyone’s been accounted for!”

He turned and glared toward the voice that said it. “Where’s the fucking ladder truck!?”

But Harry already knew that the building was taller than any of the ones in town. Even if it was here, it would only reach the third floor. 

“They’re coming from the town over… Who’s still in there—”

She coughed. It was muffled by her shirt, the wet towel she surely had over her head. “I can’t, Harry. I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’m too scared and it’s,” she was broken up by a cough again.

“S’not an option, baby,” he shook his head. She wasn’t giving up. He wasn’t allowing her to give up. He was stepping closer to the house prepared to run up the stairs from the first floor, through the flames, and five flights of stairs. Where the fuck was the ladder truck?!

“Styles, it’s unstable. You’re not to enter—that’s an order. It’s not safe!” The voice of the fire chief shouted from behind him.

He was going to get fired—but a chance of reaching her? It was well worth it. He would take third degree burns over every inch of his body in trade for her safety. It didn't matter what he needed to do. “Baby, you still with me?”

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m really scared, Harry.”

He winced, feeling so much agony over her fear. His brain wasn’t moving fast enough. “Where’s the goddamn truck!?” He shouted behind him, his voice quieting on the phone. The rest of the squad was hooking up hoses to fire hydrants and looking for a point of entry to determine the safety of the building. Talking with the manager of the building. 

Then his voice softened, even though he was desperate and broken. “I know, baby. I know. S’okay. M’gonna get you out,” he promised.

“Harry,” she sniffled. It felt worse than third degree burns. It felt worse than not knowing if she ate breakfast or got a good night’s sleep. Nothing felt as bad as her sniffling; sad and scared. Harry wanted to hold her and assure her it would be okay; but he was too far away.

“M’here, baby. M’here,” he promised.

“Harry—”

“Kitten, I just need t’think for one second and I’ll get y’out—”

“Harry, baby—”

“—I promise. I would never—”

“Harry, I really, really love you,” she croaked. Silencing any thought Harry had. “I always have. I didn’t stop loving you. Not even for a second. I think I love you more if that’s even possible.”

It felt like the last three years never existed. She was never gone. The hole in his heart was filled. His lungs didn’t feel short of breath, and his muscles stopped aching. She loved him. He thought of Gemma saying she would never do something that would hurt both of them.

But Harry was sick of her goodbyes. He didn’t like that they came without warning. They never said goodbye or goodnight. It was always implied she would see him tomorrow.

Harry dropped his phone without responding. He didn’t think; didn’t think logically at all. His training was gone. He relied on his instinct and the strength training he had thrown himself into at the gym. 

He marched up to the first first-floor patio railing and stood on it as the rest of his coworkers shouted. He had seen moments of incredible strength and determination from every day people choosing to be heroes. Harry would never tout himself as such, but he was going to be heroic for her.

The distinct voice of his chief started to shout after him as well, but it was too late. He had to be quick for a hundred reasons, but if they stopped him, something bad would happen to her. Then he would die--that he was sure of. The railing was a good jumping point. Heat poured from the building. People shouted at him. Shouted into the walkies to get the ladder truck there ASAP. He was so fired. But it didn’t matter. 

He jumped up from the railing and grabbed for the balusters the second floor balcony. He yanked himself up in a chin-up that his friends and coworkers would be proud of if they had a moment to admire it. Once on the second balcony, he remained perched for a moment. Gathering his nerve, and resetting his muscles before he launched up to the next floor in the same way as the second. Then he did it for the fourth and fifth balconies as well. He didn’t think about how high up he was. How a free fall would definitely break his spine or very much something worse. He wasn’t the one afraid of heights after all.

She was more important. Always. He was not going to let her say I love you on the phone to him after three years of nothing, make him whole again, and then just leave permanently.

Once on her balcony, his muscles screamed. He pulled on the slider but it was locked. He pressed his face to the glass and searched for her but couldn’t see her through the smoke.

“Goddammit!” He shouted, slamming his fist on the slider. But she probably couldn’t hear it over the sound of the room separating her, the sirens, and probably the sound of her own coughing. Harry pressed his gloved hands to his face and pressed his hands to his pockets searching for anything that could be useful.

Then his saving grace was a planter in the corner of the balcony. Time seemed to be moving so slowly, he could have cried. He yanked the stand surely straining a muscle in his back but that didn't matter either. The plant tumbled to her patio floor and in the same motion, he smashed the heavy holder it into the slider. He turned his head away to avoid the glass and the heat bloomed from inside.

“Kitten, if y’can hear me. I need you t'come t’my voice,” he shouted. The floor creaked under the weight of his foot. It made his training kick in, he couldn’t keep going. It was useless if he fell through the floor and couldn’t keep her safe. 

It killed a piece of him, but he stayed where he was. Through the smoke, he searched for her. “Kitten, please,” he begged.

Holding onto the frame of the door he stepped into the room, shirt over his mouth, his foot feeling for a support beam that hadn’t been broken by the flames or something.

“Goddammit,” he croaked. “Where are you?” His eyes burned from the smoke and heat but he tried anyway because he had to find her.

“I’m here,” she called weakly.

He closed his eyes, his heart aching as he breathed out inside his shirt. “Good. Good, baby. Come here,” his eyes were watering from the smoke or heat. He thought. Or maybe it was just pure relief flooding his vision. In actuality, they were just tears. “Baby, you have t’come here now.” He ordered.

The floor creaked and he didn’t know where she was and it killed him. He couldn’t see through the smoke. 

He prayed none of her possessions were lost. Her phone probably had pictures on it that she loved, or words jotted into her notes app that never made it to a notebook. Who bought her notebooks and pens now? Was there anyone that knew her like he did? He was going to get her a notebook and pen right after he got her out of here. There was the distinct sound of the ladder setting up behind him.

“Harry,” she croaked. “I didn’t—”

“Kitten, just come here,” he begged. “I don’t care. Just…” 

“I thought you…” God he needed to see her. Needed to hold her. Her voice sounded like she didn’t know he was coming for her—like he would ever let her die in a fire and let I love you be the last thing she ever said to him. 

“Carefully, baby,” he reminded her, wishing more than anything he could run across the room and grab her as fast as he could. Praying that she knew he would never let anything happen to her.

“Harry, it’s cracking,” she whimpered.

“Kitten,” his heart was racing worse than any other time in his life. “You have to,” he was telling her, but it sounded like he was begging. “Please,” he wasn’t against begging—not if it would get her out. “If I come t’you, I’ll fall through, I don’t think you’ll want that,” he didn’t want to sound self-important he, just wanted her out. He was so stressed by this predicament, he worried he was going to have a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-three right in front of her. He took another cautious step toward where he thought her voice came from. The wood groaned under the pressure. “Kitten, please,” he pleaded.

Her cough was closer. The creaking was nearer. 

Then through the plume of smoke, he saw her--just barely. The collar of her T-shirt over her mouth, a wet towel around her head. The muscles of his back released ever so slightly. “Good girl,” he encouraged. “Nice and slow,” he crouched to the same level as she crawled below the smoke. He brushed the floor in front of him with his gloves. “Just a little more, baby,” he whispered. “M’here,” he promised. “There’s a lot of glass—please be careful,” he begged. But he would pluck out every piece himself if it meant she was alive for him to do it.

Once she was within grabbing range--near enough to the balcony that he wouldn't need to step on the crumbling floor, he yanked her to him. Pulling her to stand and clutching her to him as if their lives were dependent on it. For a moment, he held her, kissed the side of her face as she coughed and he felt along her ribs as if she wasn't real and holding her was all in his head.

It was no longer than three seconds, but it could have been hours or days that he held her. The sound of everything falling apart below them didn’t matter. The creaking, the wood breaking, the integrity of the building melting. All of it didn’t matter. “C’mon,” he ushered her further out on the balcony. The ladder was greeting him. Finally.

He sighed with relief. “Kitten,” his voice was soft, a bit hoarse with anxiety and smoke coating his esophagus. “Close your eyes and don’t open ‘em until I say so, yeah?”

“Please don’t fall,” she mumbled and tucked her face against his jacket. He knew it was a protective layer, but he wished with everything in him it was softer for her delicate face.

“Never, baby,” he promised, dragging a gloved hand across her cheek wishing it was also his hand and not the rough material.

“I was talking to myself,” the smallest of smiles graced her pretty lips.

Harry buried his nose in her hair. The skin between his eyebrows pinched together. Without full control of his emotions, he released a quiet chuckle and his eyes continued to water from the smoke (they was definitely just tears). His laugh was barely loud enough for her to hear. “I won’t let that happen, kitten,” he promised anyway. He hauled himself over the railing and onto the ladder. He held his hand out. “C’mere, kitten. M’here.” She tentatively stepped forward. “Hold your hand out,” he whispered. As she did, he grabbed it immediately. “Good girl,” he encouraged. “I’m going to lift you now, okay?”

“Harry,” she whispered, her voice full of worry. “It’s–”

“Baby, s’not an option,” he repeated.

“But—”

He yanked her closer, watching the smoke billow out of her slider door. The flames crept closer and the only thing that kept him from losing his grip on reality was that she was holding his hand and not victim to the flames behind them. Without hearing her protest, he lifted her. As if she weighed nothing but a bag of groceries. He cradled her as he had been taught in the academy and practiced regularly with his coworkers. But he thought of the wedding he always had dreamed about. How he would be cheesy, and he wanted nothing more than to carry her over the threshold of wherever they resided.

It wasn’t soft or pretty that way, but holding her then...

Well, it was better than any threshold he could have dreamed of.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden

most: @harryspirate

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[t0rturedangel]

I wanted to request a Rick x reader if it's ok with you? Were they going to the citadel and since there's no readers there other Rick may try and talk to the reader? Who knows, maybe they get jealous of Rick and try to take the reader because since there Rick they like the reader too. (By the way feel free to ignore but to let you know I really LOVE your writing, it's so accurate and I hope this motivates you to keep it up)

𝟎𝟎𝟏. 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧

⠀⠀⠀: ᯓ 𝟎𝟎𝟐.⠀ C-137 RICK SANCHEZ X READER

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟑. SYNOPSIS, Rick wasn't not too keen on bringing you to the citadel, and this is why

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟒. WARNINGS, Rick Sanchez, other ricks, swearing, possibly ooc, one rick gets a lil freaky with you, a rick dies.

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟓. AUTHOR'S NOTES, I'm on that grind rn, posting as much as I can while I still have the motivation. also I LOVE THIS REQUEST!! AHHH I'll happily do it!!

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤYour curiosity of the citadel started when MORTY had accidently mentioned it- he had been complaining about all the scams he found there when you overheared, quickly prompting you to immediately ask questions about it- RICK never told you anything about this citadel so obviously you were curious. MORTY had no idea RICK was keeping the citadel hidden from you for a reason and thus he happily began to explain about the citadel until he was caught by RICK.

"W-w-what the hell Morty?!" RICK pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes narrowed at his morty- teeth practically gritting together in annoyence causing the teen boy to quickly question why his grandpa was suddenly even more angry with him "W-what?" He asked, slowly getting nervous as Rick groaned, ignoring your puzzled and equaly annoyed look, "They weren't supposed to find out about the citadel Morty!" Your Rick burped, now dragging his hand down his face "W-w-w-well I-I-I didn't know that!" Morty defended himself just before you voiced your opinion "Rick why have you never told me about the citadel? Meeting other me's would be so cool!" "No it wouldn't be... trust me [name] I know" "Maybe for you" you rolled your eyes, resting your elbow on Morty's shoulder (who was nervously looking between you and Rick). "Take me to the citadel Rick" you commaned after a short pause, immediately getting a shake of the said and a stern 'no' from Rick "What the fuck, why? You take Morty!" "It isn't the same with you as it is with Morty." "I dont care" "Neither do I but-" "So?"

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤyou two began to bicker about it, with you being insistant on going to the damned citadel while RICK came up with any and every excuse on why you should not and could not go- "they have man-eating cows so you'd be eaten immediately" was one of them, quite a stupid one you must admit but you quickly contrasted it "Okay? so i'll bring a gun!" and that went on for hours.... and then eventually days until RICK eventually gave up.

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤThat's how you ended up in the citadel. Wandering about like a child with your RICK close behind, glaring at every other rick who even glanced your way.

You looked around, eyes shining with curiosity and awe at each building and piece of technology you found (which was every where) "What the fuck Rick, why didn't you show me this place sooner!" "Because this place sucks?" you decided not to answer your boyfriend and instead run around some more, unintentionally ignoring RICK- who's voice was getting quieter and quieter until you couldn't hear it anymore. So now you found yourself by a train station, looking at all the different ricks, most wearing factory worker clothes which struck you as being odd, aren't all rick's smart asf? why are they dressed like that? Your overly curious nature led you to one of them, poking him in the shoulder for his attention. Your contact with him startled that rick, he quickly snapped his head to you- getting ready to shout at whoever was disturbing him until he processed your face- his eyes widening in, what you assumed to be, awe "a-a [name]?!" He bleched, asking like you were some damn pokemon "whats good" was your simple, yet slightly annoyed reply. "H-how did you get here? [n-names] are so rare" He questioned, a grimy hand getting closer to your face, possibly to examine it which was something you did not appriciate so thus you leant back. "Woah hands off" You held up your hands, trying to form a distance between you and the rick- which had somehow caught the attention of the other ricks who were staring at you with wide eyes, you could practically hear their shocked whispers which also consisted of 'a [name]?' 'when did a [name] get here?' 'where is their rick?' what the fuck are they talking about? and just as you were about to leg it in the opposite direction, one of the ricks- in an extremely expensive suit- walked up to you "Where is your rick?" his voice seemed posh, he didn't stutter and definately didn't have that alcoholic stench you were familiar with "uh... he's over- shit." you looked behind you, hoping to see your boyfriend yet was met with nothing.

"So your rick has left you? Meaning you're up for grabs?" "what the shit??? NO. My rick hasn't left me ass-face, and I'm not 'up for grabs' like a damn toy! Go find another [name]!" You gritted your teeth, clearly irritated by how you were talked about like you were an object "I can't just 'find another [name]' thats impossible, nearly all [names] are gone." the rick rolled his eyes, matching your irritation "But either way, why would you want to stay with whoever your rick is when you could be with me? I'm one of the citadels bet buissness men, I could treat you well" the way he was talking was making you sick to your stomach "Eat ass dude, My rick is brilliant! I dont need a replacement!" "Well clearly--" "-- you need to get the fuck away from [name]" a new, yet exact name, voice intergected the posh rick's statement, angering him "Just who the hell do you think you are?" "RICK OH MY GOD." You practically threw yourself to your rick, desperate to get out of the situation you were in- something that made all the other rick's (appart from the posh one) to let out defeated sighs and revert to how they were before you appeared. "So you're their rick? You seem pathetic." "The only thing pathetic here is that you think you can take my s/o" Your Rick jeered, crossing his arms "Well I can If I want to, you fucking alcoholic--" thankfully, the rick was quickly cut off, as the sound of a gun fired through the station- earning a small gasp from you and annoyed yells from the alive ricks.

"Come on [name]" Your rick grabbed your hand, before shooting a portal and walking through it "You didn't have to--" "-- He was getting on my nerves, I hate those types of Ricks.." "I see why.. but Rick, why did he say that nearly all of mes are gone?". You saw Rick physically stiffen up, before he shook his head "You'll find out later, I can't be asked to tell you right now." and while you were tempted to bother him about the topic, you had learnt that It's best to listen to him, at least for now. With a sigh, you plopped down on the sofa- next to your boyfriend "I will never go there again." "Yeah, see, what do I keep telling you all? I'm the smartest man in the universe and I know what I'm talking about ALWAYS, dumb pieces of shit" He sighed not even looking your way "Yeah yeah.. let's just watch some interdementional cable" You snatched the remote from the ground and began to switch through the channels, "WAIT, [name] go back! go fucking back! I saw ball fondlers!"

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤWhile RICK will never admit it, he is glad that you are never going back to the citadel- makes it easier for him to control his jealousy.

[obsidianimagines]

Don't Mention It

The Doctor discovers that the two of you have a shared hobby

Twelve x gn!reader

Warnings: None

You realized it probably wasn't the best idea to touch The Doctor's guitar, but when you got ready for the day and entered the empty console room to find it sitting there unattended, you couldn't resist. After all, sometimes it was simply better to seek forgiveness than to ask for permission. Surely he wouldn't be too upset if he found out, and if he was, you could handle him.

After turning the amp down a bit, you sat on the steps, holding the guitar as you settled into place. Without having to think much about it, you began to play Purple Haze. You were a little out of practice, but it felt nice to strum out a tune.

Before you could move onto another song, you jumped at the sound of The Doctor's voice. "What are you doing?"

When you looked up, his piercing blue eyes and very serious brows were focused right on you. You hadn't even heard him get close.

"Playing guitar. Well, your guitar." You slipped the strap off of your body and handed the instrument to him. "Sorry."

"You never told me you could play." He'd actually been quite surprised at the fact that your playing sounded pleasant, as opposed to the nails on a chalkboard he'd heard when Clara once picked up his guitar.

"I'm sure I have. You probably weren't listening."

"I'm always listening," he said, sounding almost offended.

"You're joking, right?" You stood up from the stairs with a sigh. "Anyway...yes, I play. I just haven't had much time between travelling with you and working whenever I'm back at home. When I hear you playing, it really makes me miss it."

How The Doctor hadn't put the pieces together long ago, he didn't know. When you stopped everything and watched him play, he'd always assumed you were just impressed by his great skills. And maybe it was a little bit of that, but it seemed there had been some longing, too. You were enjoying the music and wishing you could be playing yourself.

The Doctor looked down at the guitar he still held in his hands, and you were caught off guard when he offered it back to you. "I'd better not find even a scratch on it. If I do, I'm dropping you off at home."

You knew he wouldn't do such a thing, but you still intended to respect his request, gingerly taking it from him and putting the strap back over your head.

As The Doctor turned to the console, you sat down once again and played the first thing that came to mind.

It had been a few days since your last trip with The Doctor when he finally showed up again. You weren't sure how long it had been for him—you never were—but he didn't seem any different.

He played his guitar as he pondered something you couldn't even begin to guess, filling the TARDIS with what you recognized as I Will Dare by The Replacements. An odd choice, you thought, yet that didn't stop you from listening intently.

The Doctor abruptly stopped the tune to put the instrument down, and he was gone from the console room before you could say anything. You sighed in disappointment. You quite liked that song after all.

You continued where he'd left off, humming and tapping your fingers against your thigh.

Moments later, The Doctor came back, holding a guitar case in his hand. You frowned at the sight, because even though he probably had several scattered around the TARDIS, he seemed to prefer the Yamaha that still sat in the console room.

It was even more puzzling when he gave you the case.

"Did you...buy me a guitar?"

"No, no. I didn't buy it. I don't buy things." The Doctor walked over to the console, pretending to look at something on the screen and at least attempting to be out of hugging distance. "A friend gave it to me in the 1960's, and it's been sitting around here ever since."

"1960's?" Very carefully, you placed the case on the floor, opening it to find a beautiful vintage Stratocaster. One very much like Jimi Hendrix used to play. Knowing the man who had given it to you, it was the genuine article.

Without noticing the way he'd been watching you, you closed the case back up and practically ran to The Doctor, throwing yourself at him in a hug. The impact and the way you pushed him into the console knocked some of the wind out of him. "Why does there always have to be hugging?!" He struggled to exclaim as you squeezed him tightly.

"I really can't help it right now." You kissed his cheek and gave him one more squeeze before mercifully letting him go. "Thank you, Doctor. Seriously."

"Don't mention it. Really. I only wanted to stop you playing mine so much."

"That won't be a problem. Believe me."

Returning to the case like a giddy little kid, you took the guitar out and hooked it up to the amp. You missed the small smile on his face as you began to play a song for him.

The Doctor didn't plan to tell you that he had only acquired the guitar after your previous trip.