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vivwritesfics · 11 months ago

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Set The World On Fire

Chapter Two

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.7K

Warnings: drinking, drunk driving (nobody gets hurt but I don't condone this)

Series Masterlist

Lando wasn't in a bad mood when he returned to the club. Actually talking to somebody about his little problem seemed to have helped, even if only slightly.

He sat himself back in his booth and got himself a fresh whisky. He didn't want the dancers, he never did. He surveyed the people coming in and out of his club. The man she'd entered with was still there, trying to chat up his bar maid. He had to back off or Lando was gonna be all over him, throwing him out of his club.

As the night progressed the club emptied out. Thursdays were never a busy night. Normally Lando didn't bother coming on a Thursday, but he needed to get out of the house, to get drunk.

He poured himself another whisky.

Suddenly four men came walking through the door of his club. Lando was stood to attention, recognising them all too well. Fuck, they were here already? That meant he was, too.

Lando watched as Sainz's men milled about his club, staring at his girls. They whistled and threw their money about, some of them ordering drinks at the bar. They spoke in Spanish, Lando not quite able to understand what they were saying.

He had two more whiskies before the club closed. The rowdy group of men were pushed outside, the door locking them out. The staff set on cleaning the place up while Lando had one more whisky and made his way out of his club.

He was very drunk when he drove home. It was dangerous, a wonder he made it home at all. There were no other cars on the road and he was driving a lot slower than he thought he was, which must have helped.

When he made it back to his family estate, there was another car parked out the front. Lando climbed out of his own. He left the car door open as he walked up the steps and pushed open the front door. Somebody would take care of his car for him, probably.

His sister was asleep. Even drunk Lando could tell that. He tried to be quiet as he moved through the house, but he knocked into every piece of furniture, cursing with volume as he did so.

There were voices. They were hushed, like the people didn't want to be heard. Lando tried to follow them, tried to locate the voices. In his sizable house he walked into the wrong room a few times before he stumbled into the kitchen.

There his sister was with a glass of milk. "Hey," he said as he leaned against the door. The room was spinning as he ran his hands through his hair, trying to ease the headache that was already starting, and loosened his tie.

And then he spotted who his sister was talking to. Carlos fucking Sainz. Lando wasn't entirely sure how to react to that. His eyes went wide as he looked at the man that used to be his best friend. "Carlos. You're not meant to be here."

The look his sister was giving him, she looked so disappointed with him. But she usually did when he returned from the club. It was something Lando was used to by now. He didn't care anymore.

The longer Lando stared at Carlos, the more enraged he became. He stumbled into the room, grabbed a hold of his sister and tried to push her behind him. "Stay away from my-" he hiccupped "-sister."

Everything was blurry. Carlos's face was like an out of focus picture as he stared at it. "Lando," his sister said as she grabbed a hold of him and walked him over to the kitchen table. Reluctantly, he sat down in the chair she had pulled out for him and continued to stare at Carlos as she ran to grab him a glass of water.

"Get the fuck out of my kitchen." It was sudden and abrupt, but it was unsurprising. His words were slurred, but Carlos and his sister understood him anyway.

"Lando, be nice," she said as she put the water down and sat beside him.

But Carlos shook his head, his hair bouncing about. "No, he is right," he said. "I should not have come early. I apologise."

Lando didn't care about his apology. He didn't want to hear it, he wanted him out of his house. "You stay. We're having words," he commanded and Carlos obeyed. He stayed sat in his seat, his hands clasped in front of him.

He told his sister to go to bed and she did. She left her glass of milk where it was a disappeared further into the house. Lando didn't look at her when she left. He kept his focus on Carlos.

Even when she was out of the room, Lando knew she was still listening in. On shaky legs he stood and pushed the kitchen door shut, slamming it in front of him.

There he stayed for just a minute. The weight of the gun in his pocket was incredibly light. He could have pulled it out and shot Carlos in the head, nobody had to know. Except his men were here with him. If he turned up dead, there would be an all out war.

But it would have been so easy.

Lando turned and took his seat. He sat and let out a breath, one that stank of whisky. "Why the fuck are you here?" Lando spat at him. He made a gesture with his arms as he spoke, one big enough to knock over his glass of water. "Why the fuck are you here with my sister?"

"You're drunk, Lando."

Of course he was drunk. It didn't take a genius to work that out/ "You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow."

"My father had another business to attend to," Carlos answered quickly.

"Well, why did you come here?"

Carlos stared at him for a moment. This wasn't the Lando he once knew. "We were friends once upon a time," he answered. "Do you remember that, Lando? Do you remember when we were children?"

"Yes Carlos. I remember being a kid. I remember our fathers pointing guns at each other."

Carlos shook his head. "No, I'm talking about when we were boys and we'd spend all day playing together. We'd chase each other around the garden while our fathers did business."

"What's your point?"

"What happened to you, Lando?"

"I grew up."

***

The white card was on the counter that separated her kitchen from her living room. She hadn't called yet, hadn't wanted to seem too desperate. But it wasn't like they had been flirting. He clearly just wanted some company.

In her pyjamas she watched television, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. The date had been atrocious, but the night wasn't all bad.

The club had been sleazy, sure, but she hadn't minded it. The back room was... nice. There had been paperwork on the floor and a full cabinet of booze to the left of the desk. It hadn't looked like a typical back office. But Lando had been nice. He had been lovely, actually.

She looked back at the white card on her counter top. It was too early to call. The club would probably be closed and he certainly wouldn't be there.

She didn't know what was going on in her city, that there was a crime family operating everything. She didn't know about the mafia families that ruled the world, or that she had just met the man set to lead one of them. She didn't know about Hamilton and how he ruled over everything.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of her.

Where'd you go? Came a text from the man she had left in the club.

He'd only just noticed. It had been several hours, and he'd only just noticed. She didn't respond. She blocked his number and placed her phone down beside her, returning her attention to her movie.

But then she got an idea. If that was Lando's number on the little white card, then she could text him, right. If it was the number for the club, then the text wouldn't go through, and she wouldn't be missing out on anything.

She quickly grabbed the white card from the counter and put the number into her phone. Lando - Strip Club. The contact name made it sound so much more sleazy than it was. He should have been sleazy. He was in his early twenties and he owned a strip club - was there anything sleazier?

Is this Lando from the club? She texted and put her phone down on the coffee table in front of her.

Just a few minutes later it vibrated. Who the fuck is this? Not the friendliest of responses, sure, but it didn't entirely come as a surprise. But at least she knew she had his number and not the number for the club.

That was when she realised she never told him her name. Even if she said it to him, he wouldn't know. It's the girl from the club, the one you called a cab for, she sent.

Those three little dots appeared at the bottom of the screen. Seconds later, a text came though. Let me switch you to my personal phone.

It was another few seconds before another text came through, this time from a different number. Hey club girl, it's Lando, the text said. She saved it to her phone again, under the same contact number.

Club girl has a name, you know she sent back, hoping he'd view it in jest. It's Y/N, btw - i'm Y/N, btw

nice to finally have a face to the name, Lando responded. pretty name for a pretty face

Oh, that had to be flirting, she decided. There was no way to read it as anything but. So, she tried to reply with something equally as flirty, but it ended up just being awkward.

It was a good thing Lando liked awkward.

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Series Taglist (OPEN): @millinorrizz @cinnamongirlontv @sainzluvrr @aquangxl @llando4norris @hollie911 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @queenofmanydreams @somepeoplemaybe @shobaes @thatsusbitch @ibanstro @sobersidedly @ririgy @barcelonaloverf1life @hotbuns13 @dinodumbass @bellezaycafe @maddie-naps @yl90 @itscrzy

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hotyanderedaddies · 1 year ago

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Spending the Night with Your Yandere Vampire Boyfriend

[Yandere! Vampire x Human! GN Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You've been with your new boyfriend for a few weeks by now, and things were developing really quickly. Much faster than any of your previous relationships.

Your new boyfriend, whom you playfully call Daddy, recently revealed to you that he's a vampire which was a total shock to you.

Well, maybe you should've caught on when he'd only come around at night when the sun was down, you never saw him eat any food, he seemed to avoid garlic at all costs, and he was super pale... and he had vampire fangs.

A total surprise.

Either way, you weren't too scared when Daddy revealed his "secret" to you.

Daddy is perfect boyfriend, honestly.

Daddy knows all of your likes and dislikes, and even loves all of your hobbies. The two of you share the same interests in books, movies, video games-- everything!

And you better since he spent such a long time following you around, studying your every move. Watching. Waiting.

Daddy is a pure gentleman, always treating you with the upmost respect. He virtually worships the ground you walk on, treating you like you're his precious treasure.

Because you are his. All his. And only his.

Daddy really seemed to walk straight out of a daydream, rescuing you from such a dreary life of working retail and attending boring college classes. He really helped to lift you up, especially after so many of your personal relationships seemed to have tapered off once you'd started college.

He only got rid of those who would try to take you away from him. Honest. He did it all for your relationship.

So when the two of you were on one of your dates at Daddy's house, he suggested that you stay the night (well, the morning). He had some sleep aid that he could give you to help you fall asleep during the day; although, dating a vampire was kind of throwing your sleep schedule out of whack.

At first, you were a little nervous since the two of you hadn't done anything past making out, but with one look at the eager face Daddy had, you melted.

"Sure, Daddy," you smiled.

Daddy's smile stretched out his handsome face, and his vampire fangs even poked out.

He grabbed you by the hand, his cool fingers interlocking with yours, as he led you up the stairs to the bedroom. You've never been up to his bedroom since the two of you almost never made it past the couch, so you were a little excited--

The bedroom door swung open and in the middle of the room was the "bed".

"A c-coffin?" you stuttered, your stomach falling to the floor.

"Of course, Darling," Daddy chuckled, dragging you closer to the coffin. "I'm a vampire after all. What did you think I slept in?"

"A bed...?"

"But then how would I keep the sunlight off me?"

...oh.

The coffin seemed to be standard-sized (you've been to one or two funerals, so they weren't completely unfamiliar to you), and it was lined with a clean, white satin that looked incredibly soft to the touch.

But it was a coffin!

And your frantic human brain couldn't help but associate it with death! Hell no, you weren't getting in that thing!

"Um, Daddy?" you mumbled, uncertainty drenching your small voice. "M-maybe we could rush to my apartment to use my bed and I'll put up some curtains?"

Daddy's smile disappeared, quickly being replaced with a deep frown. He narrowed his red eyes in your direction, tightening the grip he had on your hand.

"We won't make it before the sun rises," he growled, his voice deep and curt. "Now, get in our coffin."

When you hesitated, Daddy lost his patience, wrapping both of his steel arms around you. The vampire was much stronger than you are, so he had absolutely no problem forcing you into the tight confines of the small coffin.

Daddy crawled inside right after you, grabbing the lid and slamming it down with a bang. An audible click sounded out, and you were trapped in the dark coffin.

You couldn't see a thing thanks to how dark it was.

The coffin was so compact that you could feel multiple sides-- the back pressed against you and was rather soft, but you could also feel the one of the sides and the top touching you. It was enclosed all around you, trapping you, leaving almost no room for you to even move or wiggle around.

You could barely move.

You could barely breathe.

But there was a cold, hard feature inside the coffin with you, and it snaked both of its large arms around you and roughly yanked you into it.

Daddy buried his nose in your air and moaned loudly as he inhaled your scent.

"Calm down, Darling," he cooed. "Daddy's here. Daddy's got you."

Your heart raced in your chest and you felt dizzy from your panicked hyperventilating.

"It's okay, my sweet darling," Daddy continued to whisper into your ear, keeping you trapped against him. "I know it's a bit of an adjustment, but it'll be worth it, I promise."

He pressed his cool lips against your forehead.

You tried to squirm away, but he was tight against your front and the side of the coffin was tight against your back.

There was no room to move away.

At all.

You're trapped.

"Get some sleep, Darling," Daddy yawned. "I love you."

#yandere boyfriend #yandere boy #yandere daddy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #obsessive love #possessive boyfriend #Yandere vampire #Vampire x reader #possessive love #vampire #vampire boyfriend

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theoldsports · 8 months ago

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SOUR.

Art Donaldson x Reader (Patrick Zweig x Reader) | SORRY series | 4.2k words

it’s finally here by popular demand. Patrick has entered the plot. this is set before all of the prior chapters, two days before the Donaldson wedding. can be read as part of the SORRY SERIES (read more episodes of their lives here) or on its own. lemme know if you’d like to be on the taglist.

warnings: 18+. angst. it’s brutal angst. more than allusions to Patrick’s canonical use of hard drugs. rehab, allusion to an OD, mention of Art’s disordered eating patterns. they’re bad for each other in a good way. the Donaldsons have a friendly dog. coveting another man’s wife. discussion of niche sexual fantasies. making out. biting. tornados/extreme weather. running away from your problems.

“Art?”

“Nngh.”

“Artie, wake up.”

“‘M up. Fhhh… ‘m up. What’s the matter?” Art grumbled with half shut eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” He whispered even though they were alone. It was nighttime which meant whispering to Art.

“I don’t like this storm.”

What a sign that storm should have been.

Art smirked. “We’re getting married in, like, three days and you’re worried about the weather?”

“There’s a tornado warning. Or watch. Whichever the worse one is. I saw it on the news.”

Art frowned. “You ever been through a tornado?”

“No.”

Art rolled over from his position in [Y/N]’s arms to face her nose to nose. “I have. A lot. Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. His arm slotted into the dip of her waist and pulled her closer. “Close ‘em for me. That’s it, that’s it.” He coaxed as she followed his directions.

“I don’t see what this has to do with—“

“Shh, listen,” they both got quiet. Rain pelted against the windows. Wind whistled. Branches cracked and crunched. Thunder boomed. [Y/N] could see the gleam of lightning even behind her eyelids. “Hear it?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Congrats. Your ears are workin’ best as they can,” Art teased to try and get his fiancé to crack a smile. “Now, which one’s the loudest? Which of the sounds?”

“You breathing.”

“I’m flattered. Which one outside?”

[Y/N] listened. “Right now? The rain, I think.”

“We’re in the clear for now. Let me know when the wind’s louder. Like that real, real crazy whooshing, whistling sound. When it starts whipping like that, we’ll go in the bathroom and lock the doors, yeah? Hell, we can head in now if it would make you feel better?”

“What if I fall asleep before the weather gets worse?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake,” Art yawned. “How about I get you up if I notice a disturbance. I gotta take care of my wife, right?”

“I’m not your wife.”

Art sighed. “…I know. I’m just practicing.”

Fortunately, no tornado ever touched down. And Art was still there when [Y/N] woke up.

It always amazed her that Art was still there everyday. For every nasty thing she said to him that she didn’t mean, every argument where she told him Patrick was right, every tennis match won or lost, every natural disaster, every tear shed. Art was there for all of it. He liked the bad moments as much as the good ones because it meant simply more time spent by [Y/N]’s side. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

It was too much power, [Y/N] frequently thought, that she had over Art.

[Y/N] faced Art and brushed his strawberry blonde hair away from his forehead. Art often looked exhausted. He wore his tiredness on his face and shoulders. The exhaustion of constantly chasing, people-pleasing and being a professional athlete could destroy a kid. Art wore it like a Boy Scout badge. [Y/N] could watch him look relaxed forever. It was so rare he looked like that.

“Good morning, guard dog,” [Y/N] whispered. Art stirred. She could tell he was awake even though his eyes were shut due to that crease the reappeared between his eyebrows. It was never not there in his waking moments. Slowly, Art’s hand crept up and gently clutched [Y/N]’s wrist. Art used his grip to slide [Y/N]’s hand down his own drowsy face. He planted a kiss on her palm before tiredly looking at her. “Good morning.” She repeated to him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” [Y/N] replied. Gray sunlight filtered through the window. “You ready for today?” She smirked.

“What’s today?”

“Patrick’s in town.”

Art dramatically threw his arm over his face and groaned. “I thought he was in tomorrow… Everything was so peaceful… And quiet,” Art mumbled into his elbow. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long and resolved into a soft laugh. “Whose babysitting?” He asked, peering his blue and brown eyes over his arm.

“I’m picking up the cake today, so I figured I could use his strength.”

Art sat up a bit. “You’re getting it today?”

“In the later afternoon, yeah. Why?”

“It’s gonna be, like, stale.”

[Y/N] glanced over at Art. “If we had gotten cupcakes like I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re such a little jerk.” Art teased.

“Me!” [Y/N] gasped. “It doesn’t even matter because it’s not like you’re gonna eat it anyway because you don’t eat anything.”

“Little jerk!” Art said with his crooked smile widening. He leaned in, slotting an arm over her. “You heard me. You’re a little… troublemaking jerk.” Art’s nose almost pressed against hers.

“Oh yeah? Why are you marrying me then, hm?”

“…You’re pretty,” Art grinned almost timidly, bowing his head. His flat vocal timber sounded like the verbal equivalent of a blush. “Like, really, really pretty. Even if you suck.” Tenderly, Art leaned the rest of the way in to kiss [Y/N]. Once and then twice and then seven times. Maybe fourteen.

And they would have stayed like that all day.

They would have.

BANG BANG BANG.

Like gunshots.

Their lips parted and they held long eye contact. They paused. They sighed.

“Patrick.” They both said.

With a bend of his arms, the full weight of Art’s toned body collapsed on top of [Y/N]’s.

“Pretty baby!”

“No. ‘M pretending he’s not out there,” He laid flat on her, head on her chest. “Can’t go anywhere now.”

BANG BANG BANG on the front door again. Cheese, the couple’s Labrador mix barked at the sound from downstairs.

“Art!”

“Mhm-mm. Nope. Too bad. Sucks for Patrick.”

[Y/N] huffed. “You’re upsetting the dog.”

“He’s upsetting the dog,” Art started to laugh. “He showed up early. I’m just laying here. Hey, hey!” Art jeered as [Y/N] wiggled out from underneath him from backwards. She tried to inch away off the side of the bed. Her shoulders slumped against the carpet, while Art held her legs in place on the bed. [Y/N] dangled in a half on-half off sort of way. Her oversized Stanford t-shirt rolled up during the drama, exposing her breasts to Art. Unashamed, he stared.

[Y/N] twisted her foot into the side of Art’s face, causing a small cry of disgust from him. Just enough chaos for her to slip away. Without hesitation, she tossed the lightweight door open and skittered down the stairs with Art’s long gate keeping pace behind her. His arms reached out in an attempt to grab her. “He’s early! He can wait! He’s never been early in his whole fucking life!” Art laughed. Cheese jumped and barked at the hysteria.

The chase continued until [Y/N]’s hand hit the doorknob and chain. She unlocked it immediately. As [Y/N] ripped the door open, Art’s arm encircled her waist yanking her to the side with the force of his momentum, causing her to laugh with glee.

And on the other side of the door was Patrick Zweig.

Smiling impishly, Patrick took in the disheveled appearances of his two favorite people. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Nice boner.” Patrick smirked at Art, while he pulled [Y/N] into a side hug.

Art didn’t have a boner, or at least a proper one. But the comment was enough to get Art to look. He rolled his eyes and pulled Patrick in for a hug. Cheese ran over to the door for attention, when Art greeted Patrick.

Art closed the door. Patrick ducked down to greet the Labrador too. He liked Cheese, but wouldn’t necessarily choose to be around a dog in his free time the way that Art and [Y/N] did. Cheese really liked Patrick, much to his chagrin, so he pretended to be nice. While Patrick sat on the floor with the animal, he looked up at his best friends. “What’s with the clothes? You just get up?” Art with no shirt in just tube socks and boxers, and [Y/N] in Art’s old college shirt and underwear. They had all seen each other like this so many times growing up that no one particularly cared that the future Donaldsons looked so post coital. It was pretty normal. Patrick’s smirk sliced further across his unwashed face with the ghost of a laugh. “Were you guys fucking?” He said like a horny teenager.

[Y/N] laughed hard and kissed her lifelong best friend on top of the head on her way to make a pot of coffee in the kitchen. “No.” Art sighed in disappointment, flopping onto one of the barstools in the kitchen. This disappointment was either disappointment in Patrick for asking, or disappointment in the lack of sex due to Patrick’s arrival. It was Patrick’s fault either way.

When the dog got bored, Cheese wandered into the kitchen for nonexistent scraps. Patrick pulled up a chair next to Art and dropped his backpack on the floor. “How’s it going, man? You look good. Feeling ready?” He asked, leaning forward to tap Art across his bare knee.

Art nodded as if it say it’s a sure thing. “Thanks. We miss you. We appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”

“I appreciate you being here,” [Y/N] cut in. “Because you’re in my half of the wedding party.” She and Art were always in constant competition over who loved Patrick more. Art wanted him to be his best man. [Y/N] won out, though, having known him since the age of seven and Art only since age twelve.

“Ladies please. Not all at once.” Patrick said. He stood from his chair and wrapped his long arms around [Y/N] in a proper hug finally. Briefly, his chin rested on her head. He stopped before it went on too long.

“Good to see you, kid. How’s it going?” At two months older, [Y/N] had been calling Patrick ‘kid’ diminutively for almost two decades. It was cuter before he got so tall.

“I called you yesterday.” He replied dryly, stepping back to look at her. [Y/N] noted Patrick’s intimately familiar eyes. Too wide, pupils too dilated. Hm. He wore a long sleeved sweater and jeans. And dirty tennis shoes.

“You bring something nicer than this for Saturday?” She teased, pulling on one of his holey sleeves.

Art snorted at Patrick’s expense and cracked a smile. His freckled elbows leaned onto the counter. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here for two seconds, ‘n you’re already giving me tsuris?” Patrick quipped to [Y/N].

“Tsuris… Never thought I’d say it, but you sound like your mom, Patrick.” [Y/N] scoffed. Art snorted a laugh too.

Patrick frowned. “Guess I have to kill myself then.” He joked harshly to more laughter from the other two. M

“Yep. Have some coffee. Both of you. I’m going to put pants on.” [Y/N] turned away and moved to the stairs.

“Aw, do you have to?” Patrick called after her. [Y/N] tossed a middle finger up over her shoulder as she walked away. Art hissed at Patrick’s comment.

“Do you have to flirt with my wife?” Art sneered without malice.

Patrick smiled that boyish small, wicked, unassuming smile. “She’s not your wife yet.” He snapped back. Art smiled at him in return. The two held each other’s gaze adorned with sick grins for a moment before both of them dissolved into laughter. Everything was a competition, but it was only real if they brought it up.

Fast forward a few hours and Patrick and [Y/N] were in the car. Art had taken off for a haircut because his mom thought he looked like a messy little punk and wedding pictures were forever. [Y/N] drove because Patrick drove too fast and without mercy. He had a sports car once when he was in school and still spoke to his parents daily and had notably wrapped it around a telephone pole and walked out without nary a scratch. How’s that for nine lives?

[Y/N] had a sedan.

She and Patrick both held a cigarette out each of their respective windows as she drove.

“You should really quit, y’know.” She told Patrick.

He leaned over and blew smoke in her face. “Yeah, I’ll quit when you do.”

Patrick’s rude gesture didn’t bear acknowledging. “It’s different. You’re an athlete. I watch movies and review them for a living. It’s expected of me. You… you’re making your performance actively worse. You’re kneecapping yourself by choice.” [Y/N] explained.

“I’m good enough to take the hit.”

[Y/N] laughed and took a drag of her cigarette, asking it out the window. “And you’re arrogant enough to make that comment. Sometimes I look at you and you’re still thirteen. I swear to God. It’s fuckin’ funny,” she said. It was quiet for a moment. “Art, though. He doesn’t smoke anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” Patrick replied immediately with a wild look in his eye. That was apparently a big surprise. “He’s totally lying to you. There’s no way—“

“Nope! Quit on his own too. He just decided he was done with it one day and got all pro-athlete about it.”

“Y-you’re wrong! You’re so wrong. He’s a liar. Last time I was in town, we—“

“No. No fucking way,” [Y/N] shook her head in manic disbelief. “When you came by to—“

“Mhm. Yep. On the patio. You didn’t notice?”

[Y/N] shook her head. “No sense of smell because of… I’m a smoker. I just… He’s such a shit.”

“A shit and a hypocrite!” They both laughed. When the glee dampened naturally and the cigarette butts were pitched out the window, Patrick looked over at [Y/N]. One good, long look. “You ready for Saturday?” Patrick asked because he was a masochist.

[Y/N] found herself often thinking back on this moment. Was this when it had gone wrong beyond repair?

[Y/N] sighed. She would only ever tell Patrick and maybe Art this. “Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t say it like that. I have been ready to marry Art since I was, like, seventeen years old. It is unfathomable to me how much love I am capable of giving him, y’know? If he wanted the Mona Lisa, I’d be robbing the Louvre tomorrow. He’s it for me,” she said. Patrick faked a smile very convincingly and nodded for her to go on. “What I’m not looking forward to is everyone I know being in the same room at the same time. I don’t like other people except you and Art. And my editor. That’s about it.”

“You’re not at all worried about spending all that time married to someone?” Patrick tried to jab at her with his words while he scratched his right forearm.

“Not with Art.”

“Wow. That’s awfully grownup of you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m a grownup. With a smokin’ hot fiancé. And he actually cares if I live or die. Isn’t that crazy? My parents weren’t like that with each other. It’s… Am I allowed to say how grateful I am to you for bringing him home for break that one time, or is that stupid?”

“It’s kinda stupid,” he agreed teasingly. In reality, he wanted more than anything to put himself out of his misery. My fault, my fault, my fault. The words looped in Patrick’s head on constant repeat. He wanted to rip his skin off for so many different reasons. He couldn’t take it and he was trapped. Fuck.

Patrick scratched his right forearm again.

“Truth or dare?” Patrick slurred. He was twenty-one and drunk for [Y/N]’s birthday. She, Art and Patrick sat on the disgusting archaic carpet in Art’s dorm room.

“Uh, truth.” [Y/N] said too soberly to sober.

“Boring!” Art said, putting his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh.

Patrick took a long swing of his beer while he thought. “Okay, okay. What’s your weirdest sexual fantasy?” He asked.

“Ew.” [Y/N] wrinkled her nose.

Art thought the question was epic, but wasn’t going to facilitate his girl’s discomfort. “Hey, it’s her birthday, she doesn’t have to—“

“Um, no. I’ll do it. This is an actual dream I had. I think about it kinda all the time. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It so dumb. So, it’s Art and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with coffee or something. And Art… sings me Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe did for JFK. And he’s dressed like Marilyn, but like a boy. No dress, but like the boy version of that look. Then we fuck. That’s weirder than you wanted. That was weird, right?” [Y/N] rambled.

Art leaned in closer to her. They were all drunk as skunks and he couldn’t help bite his lip. His arm pulled her closer to him. Art was handsy when drunk, they were all learning.

“Whose Jackie O?” Patrick asked.

“No Jackie O. And I’m not JFK. He’s just Marilyn. Gentlewomen prefer blondes.” [Y/N] had laughed so hard at that while she tangled her fingers in Art’s sandy hair.

The car ride to get cake and the drive back was the last proper conversation [Y/N] and Patrick had. The pair got home. Nothing seemed unusual to [Y/N] at all. They talked the whole time without any dry spells. The cake, in pieces to be assembled, was carefully toted in and placed way out of the way from disaster. Patrick took his bag to the bathroom, claiming he was going to shower.

[Y/N] shouted after him. “You know where the towels are!”

Patrick looked back over his shoulder at her with a smirk and closed the bathroom door behind him.

And he went out through the bathroom window.

[Y/N] had no idea he had gone until she heard his car start. For a minute, she thought it was the neighbors. She walked halfway down her hallway and saw the bathroom door open. No running shower water, no half nude Patrick shaving or something. She ran back down the hall and glanced out the kitchen window and watched his new white SUV whip out of the driveway.

[Y/N] stood there for several minutes. Staring and staring and staring after him. Not a single effort to move. The first thing she did was pick up her blue slidephone from beside the sink. She called Art, not Patrick. Patrick made his choice.

[Y/N] hadn’t realized she was crying when Art picked up on the other line.

“Honey? Honey, you there? You buttdial me?” Art said. [Y/N] thinks he said shit like that for several moments before she spoke. She just faced the window and stared for what felt like ages.

“Patrick’s gone.”

“Hm?”

“Patrick’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone.”

“He climbed through the bathroom window and drove off. We-we didn’t have a fight. Or-or… He just left. Like it was nothing.”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

Art rushed back in his blue-black jeep wrangler. It ripped into the smooth driveway causing the tires to damn near squeal. When he got out of his car and bounded to the door, it was clear that about half of his hair had been cut instead of all of it. [Y/N] would have laughed in an ideal situation.

“Baby, hey, what happened?” Art said breathlessly as he unlocked the door. [Y/N] sat at the seldom used dining room table the two of them used to hold their junk mail, sitting straight up and looking through Art. Art was alarmed. She never sat at the table and rarely was her face so expressionless. She was always feeling, expressing, something. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but her eyes were red.

“Patrick seems to have decided not to join us this weekend.” [Y/N] said clearly.

Art closed up the door behind him and walked over to [Y/N]. His scraggly hair and bewildered expression lessened into some devastated softness. He knelt, as he often did, in front of her and took her softer hands in his. “Can you tell me what happened?” Art asked quietly. He felt angry tears sting at the corner of his own traitorous eyes.

“We went out, got the cake, got smoothies, and came back. We… He didn’t say anything weird. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. And then?”

“No, I mean, nothing happened. Like, he was on his best behavior. Like, he was doing so well. He seemed okay. Really okay, y’know?” [Y/N]’s voice broke and finally betrayed her. She choked on her last words and the tears followed. Art’s right hand traveled up the side of [Y/N] face to rest there in comfort. “We talked about everything, like always. He was totally fine. I swear. Then we got home and he says I’m gonna take a shower, or something. And then I heard his car pull away. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him.” Art said, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. He stood from the floor and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. Art leaned against the table [Y/N] sat at. He called Patrick. Then he called him again. And another time. Up to what felt like twelve times or so. He left voicemail after voicemail.

“Hey, call me.”

“Hey, it’s Art. Call me.”

“Art again. Call me back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry about the last one. Patrick, call me. Are you coming home?”

“Hey, man. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“I’m sorry about the last one too. I’m… Understandably, I’m kinda… Fucking pissed at you. I don’t need to talk to you like that, though. Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened? You can talk to me.”

“You’re an asshole. I wish you could see the look on [Y/N]’s face right now.”

“Don’t come back.”

Eventually, the voicemail box was full.

[Y/N] reached wordlessly for Art’s hand. She could feel his rare anger climbing. He got this ridiculous blush across his cheeks when he got angry and she could see it against the sunset’s glow. “Art?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened,” He said, turning his eyes to her. “I’m so sorry, hon.”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize, pretty baby.”

“Yeah, but he’s my best friend. He’s your best friend,” He ranted. “That was a dick move to leave like that. I’m sorry that happened to you. He’s a piece of shit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No! I do. I do mean that. For the last year, he’s treated us, especially you like trash. Do you not see how much more you deserve, [Y/N]? I don’t know what’s going on with him… Do you?”

“He’s…” [Y/N] looked down. “You think he’s using again?”

Art didn’t say anything, he just looked down. That was answer enough. [Y/N] buried her face in her hands with a shuddering sob. Art pulled her to her feet and into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, unable to hold his own tears back. Eventually, the pair landed on the sagging green couch. Art’s legs wrapped around [Y/N]’s middle. They kept the news on all night. In case he matched an accident description. They called hospitals and hunted for John Does that were over six feet with dark hair and stubble.

“What are we gonna do? He’s… He’s not coming back, is he?” [Y/N] whispered. Cheese rested his heavy beige head on her thigh. He obviously didn’t understand why Patrick had gone either.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Art replied, lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.

Pathetically, [Y/N] raised her head to Art. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.” He said. [Y/N] forced Art to lean back against the couch and she laid her head on his chest. Cheese circled for a new position where he could be touching them both at the same time.

[Y/N] knew it was a little bit her fault. She leaned up and kissed Art on the corner of his lips. “It’s my fault.”

“Then it’s both of our faults. You can’t talk about yourself like that. You’re the only you I’ve got, babe.” Art huffed tiredly.

[Y/N] dug her hands into Art’s hair the way he liked. “Can I fix your haircut? Haircut’s a generous way to describe it.”

“Damn, I was actually trying out this new thing. You don’t think it’s cool?”

“Yeah, it’s big for guys who blindly answer their wife’s phone calls, I hear.” [Y/N] said weakly.

Wife was all Art heard and he melted.

“I have never known someone I love as much as you,” Art said. “I’m all in with you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do.” [Y/N] did know. She sunk her teeth into the freckled skin on Art’s right shoulder gently and he moaned. Over top of the spot, [Y/N] left a trail of kisses down Art’s bicep.

“I’m gonna call his mom.” He said once [Y/N]’s pace had slowed. Art’s stomach growled. When he got upset, he didn’t eat. [Y/N] told herself it was because he had forgotten to in stressful moments, but wondered if it was a punishment instead. She pretending she hadn’t heard the sound.

“They don’t talk.”

“I know. Just in case he turns up.”

Patrick did turn up. About ten hours later, wet and unconscious in the emergency room. Following a psych eval, Patrick went to a short stint in rehab. He had gone once prior at the age of twenty. Needless to say Patrick missed the wedding. It was too much money to up and cancel, according to Art’s piece of shit stepfather, Douglas. Patrick made no efforts to contact the Donaldsons since leaving, as he left or following rehab. Despite all of Art and [Y/N]’s tireless efforts to find him, all they had to show for it was his disconnected phone number and a crippling feeling of shame and loss. Patrick had vanished from their lives without giving either one of them a say.

Patrick was gone.

But Art was there for all of it.

TAGLIST:

@toxiclovergirl @basicallynotbreathing @miniemonie2001 @valentine333 @tremendoushorsepeachbanana-blog @athxnss @babyspice6 @diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @avylanchce @shysstuff @soberbabes @ysuftmikey @pussy-f41ry

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #sorry series #challengers movie #challengers #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig

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cuntressgoingdigital · 25 days ago

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abby knows how god awful you are at taking care of yourself. fortunately, she learned that just a little bit of help and subtle coercion will force you through your nighttime routine.

(aka bedtime domesticity with abby)

free palestine! click this link for more info

at night when you’re already cozied up under layers of blankets, eyes glued to your phone, she pulls you out of bed and gives you a piggyback ride to the bathroom to force you into your nighttime routine. to start, she carefully undresses you while telling you how beautiful you are and how happy she is after coming home to see her beloved. her days were long and stressful. she absolutely hated coming home late at night, only being able to hold your attention for an hour or two before sleep took over.

“did you have a good day, baby? i missed you.”

she’d keep you talking about your day and any other musings to keep you from begging to go back and reclaim your imprinted spot on your shared mattress.

you lean back against her in the shower, feigning exhaustion so she can hold you up. in reality it was an excuse to feel the warmth of her skin against yours.

“my poor baby. so, so tired.” her tone would almost sound patronizing if you hadn’t known her mannerisms. “you need me to do it for you?”

you’d nod and she would. the question was superfluous. the answer was always the same. she’d start by gently washing your face with a really expensive specialty cleanser she bought for you on nora’s recommendation. then, she’d use a combination of a washcloth and her hands to wash your body. she ran her hands along your collarbones to your shoulders, slowly moving downwards to your waist and hips. she knelt down in front of you, holding your thighs up one by one, making sure she scrubbed every inch of your body.

while down on her knees, she couldn’t help but place a few kisses against your hips and thighs. abby always had to resist the urge to bury her face in your cunt right then and there.

right now, she had a mission.

these moments were mostly for you. she was a morning shower type of gal, but had no problem making sure you were taken care of, even if you didn’t want to.

after the shower she would take her time toweling you off, taking in your body like it was the first time she’d ever seen you unclothed. every time was the first time to her. she couldn’t get enough of you.

the two of you would do the rest of your identical skincare routine together, a ritual she imposed as a ruse to get you to actually use the products you begged her to buy for you. while she brushed her teeth, you would undo her braid and carefully detangle her hair.

at the end of the night she’d carry you right back to your spot in your dark room, pulling out a pair of pajamas for you. they never matched, something that bothered you for a while, but quickly got over knowing she would never hear out your complaints. sure, you could get your own pajamas, but it was more fun putting her to work. abby slept in the same thing every night, just a pair of boxer briefs.

she was always the last to fall asleep, waiting to see your chest rise and fall in that familiar soft rhythm. until you did, she’d lay and watch your scroll on tik tok. abby refused to download any social media app, so you had to bookmark the videos to show to her at bedtime. the two of you softly giggled together shrouded in darkness.

abby glanced at the time, sitting up in bed to leer down at you. "don't you have to be up early tomorrow?"

"buuuuut, i'm staying up to hangout with you." you whined back.

it took a few moments for abby's face to soften with a defeated sigh "and tomorrow you'll wake up complaining about how sleepy you are."

"maybe." you reluctantly conceded. "but, what if i love you so much and want to sit and talk to you all night?"

"what if i love you more and i'll make you coffee while we talk in the morning?"

"fineeee."

wrote this at like 11pm while laying on my bathroom floor trying to convince myself to take off my makeup. love domestic abby #needthat !!

#nisa rambles #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #barely proofread oops

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godmadeaterribleerror · 20 days ago

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Chapter 3 - The Same Way I Think of You

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, fluff, mutual pining, lightest smut, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: Dean tries to adjust the betterlust, and you get worried. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: Sam you are God's strongest solider.

Title from Bang the Doldrums by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 5.3k

Read on A03!

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

It only took two days to find a pattern and routine that the betterlust liked.

Dean had started simple. Lock himself in the garage, blast music loud enough to drown out any other craving in his body—cravings to touch soft skin with scars he’d recognize anywhere, cravings for a voice that haunted his dreams and screamed in his nightmares—and slink back to his room in the dead of night, when She and Sam were already asleep. It was shockingly easy to avoid Her, and Dean owed it all to how much of a pathetic, lovesick fucking animal he was. He already knew Her whole schedule—when she woke up, when she ate, what she usually did all day, and when she went to bed—because he used to plan his own time around it. Not exactly, couldn’t have her catching on, but close enough to easily find himself in the kitchen right when she was eating, or get up an hour before her to put on coffee for them both, or accidentally wander into the war room when she was doing research.

Which means that, now, he had all the tools he needed to do the exact opposite. To never see Her pretty face, because if he did Dean was certain the betterlust would knock him to his knees. Dean could go to the bathroom when she was probably busy with something else, grab supplies when she was almost certainly asleep, sneak around the kitchen when he knew She’d wouldn’t be there, and never get close to putting Her in danger. He’d make himself waffles or burgers, or take a piece of pie from the fridge—She or Sam must be stocking it with the expensive shit, because the pie always tasted damn near homemade—then slink back to the garage and lock the door behind him.

He’d considered moving his mattress in here, or simply sleeping in Baby, but the betterlust had hated that. It had insisted on his bed. On the one bed Dean had ever been allowed to call his, and not a flea-ridden motel’s. The bed that got to be in his room. Dean’s room, and no one else’s. Not Sam’s, or his Dad’s, or another nameless body who passed through it in the night. Just Dean’s.

And maybe one other person’s, if She’d wanted that.

And She wouldn’t.

So it stayed just Dean’s, which was good enough for the betterlust, and he’d catch his mandatory three to four hours before running back to the garage at the crack of dawn.

He lived a whole week like this. Working on Baby, and eating pie, and sleeping. When the betterlust started to push cravings for affection to the surface, he’d shove them back down his throat and spine with an extra burger or quick drive.

He had a handle on this. He wasn’t all that happy, but Dean wasn’t supposed to be happy. He was content, and not all that angry at anyone but himself, so that had to count for something. He wasn’t being a problem, or a poison, and damn it, eventually the betterlust had to get the memo that the one thing it wanted most wasn’t on the menu, and that craving would fade. Dean would be able to go back to Her and Sam, and tell them he felt good.

Sam would give him look of doubt, and She’d have a pretty, worried frown on her face as she asked are you sure?

Feel pretty sure. Dean would throw her a wide grin, and gesture to himself like he was a prize for Her to win. He could be, but that wasn’t the point. Don’t I look it, Sweetheart?

Her eyes would widen in that adorable way that happened every time Dean tried to flirt with her. The way that would spark his heart into a higher gear and make his lips ache to be pressed against Her’s, all while reminding him that She was still too good for him, and still wasn’t comfortable with that part of Dean—because who would be when they’d seen the rest of him—so he couldn’t have Her.

Sam would look Dean over with a cautious gaze as he said are you sure, Dean? Because if this didn’t work, I can call Rowena-

I’m good, Sammy. Dean would wave him off, and end the argument right there with no bloodlust, only the betterlust.

She’d nod, on Dean’s side. It was always pretty awesome when She was on Dean’s side, because she’d give Sam a look that said push me on this and I’ll shave your head, and that would be it. She’d make a soft half-joking, half worried check in of on a scale of literal hell to watching Scooby-Do in the Dean cave with pie, how good are we talking?

He’d wink, and say solid kid in a candy shop, but I could get up to Scooby-Do and pie if I had company.

And he’d grab the pie and popcorn, and She’d start the TV, and Dean would have it all under control.

He didn’t have it right now, but he would. Right now he could indulge in the fantasy of Her body pressed up to his—in a very boring and platonic way—and Her arm reaching over his body to grab the popcorn. Dean could think about their legs accidentally tangling together, or Her falling asleep on his shoulder, or kissing her brow before carrying Her to their room-

Her room. Dean would have to carry Her to Her room. Not his, and definitely not theirs. And apparently he couldn’t even get lost in the daydream, because now his head was pounding and his skin was trying to crawl off his body to find Her and touch her.

He just needed to keep pushing, until the betterlust understood. Just Scooby-Do and pie—alone in the garage—would have to be enough.

It’s around noon, which means Sam’s probably doing something smart in the library, and She’s in the library annoying Sam. Dean misses watching this part of their normal routine, because Dean gets to see Her grin and laugh, and Sam always makes one of his bitch faces, but doesn’t shut Her up because they all know he’s secretly enjoying Her describing—in pointless depth—the plot of some random tv show. Either that, or Sam can always see what he calls Dean’s Puppy-love Face, and knows how quick it will turn into a scowl and grumble if he makes Her go away.

Dean knows it’s probably the second thing. His brother’s stupid matchmaker bullshit at its height, because after She leaves Dean always gets a pointed look and jerk of Sam’s head to go follow Her and confess, which will never happen.

But Dean also knows that Sam doesn’t bring his laptop into the library this time of the day, because he made that mistake once and She spent the whole time asking them questions to find out what type of movie they were.

She was an art film—which made sense to Dean, because She was interesting and beautiful and he didn’t really understand Her at all—and Dean was a low budget 70s sci-fi. He’d hated that answer, and told her to he needed to take it again. She’d said she liked that answer. She said Dean was resourceful, and did a truly amazing job with his limited options, and was always reliable. That she could watch low budget sci-fi over and over and never get sick of it.

Suddenly Dean had been pleased with his answer, and decided that the quiz had been absolutely correct. The quiz had said Sam was a vampire romance novel adaptation, so its accuracy was probably questionable, but it didn’t really matter, because She’d smiled at Dean in that moment. She’d smiled, then Sam had declared he’d never let her near his laptop again, so now that very same laptop was going to be in Sam’s room. And they were going to be in the library.

And Dean was going to watch Scooby-Do and eat pie, all by himself.

He doesn’t have to worry about going into the bunker from the garage, because they shouldn’t actually be there yet. Sam should be in the kitchen, making rabbit food for his nerd session, and She should be in her room doing… Whatever she did in Her room. Dean doesn’t allow himself to think about her room at all, ever, so now wasn’t the time to start. It would just spiral into questions of What does she have in her room? Are there small pieces of Her Dean would get to hold in his hands on her dresser? Does she keep Her clothing in her dresser, or scatter it across the floor? Would there be enough space for Dean’s clothing in her room? She never sleeps in the same position in a motel, because She thinks she needs to always be facing the door, so how does she sleep when she’s safe? On her stomach? On her back? Is Her bed soft? Do her pillows smell like cherries from that fruity girl shampoo she uses? Do her sheets smell like shea butter, because she uses that shit like it’s a religion? Would Dean be able to get Her sheets to smell like him? Would he be able to get Her whole room to smell like him? Be filled with him, fill Her with him-

Fuck. He needed to get his head in the game, because he’s frozen in the hallway, and she could walk out of Her room at any minute. It’s far enough away from Sam’s that she won’t hear Dean opening and closing the door, but that had been close. Too close. This was the exact goddamn reason Dean couldn’t trust himself around Her, because then his whole existence would devolve into those types of questions, and he’d never get a single thing done. Dean was barely functional around Her in the first place, and with the betterlust in the equation, he’d never have enough control to pull himself out of What was she doing in Her room? Was she getting changed? Was she naked, only five doors away? What did Her underwear look like? Dean had seen Her bras before, patching her up after a hunt, but he’d never seen her underwear. That was probably the right call from everyone, though, because Dean could not be trusted around Her underwear. Hell, he couldn’t stop thinking about if it was lacy, or red, and how wet it would get if he touched Her, but most importantly, was it made of a rip-able materiel-

“Dean.”

Dean felt like his skin was flying off his body as he turned, grabbing his gun and aiming it at whatever the hell was in Sam’s room-

“Dude, calm down, it’s me!” Sam’s hands were in the air, his face pale as he looked over Dean’s rigid stance. “Shit, you’re not, you’re still you, right-“

“Of course I’m still me.” Dean lowered his arms, and shot Sam a glare. “I’m not gonna just become a demon overnight, Sammy-“

“Sorry, I know, it’s just.” Sam let out a long breath, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Dean muttered, even though something vile was crawling around inside his gut. “Just reacted, didn’t mean to, uh.” He swallowed, and the crawling thing began to twist. “Do that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam shrugged, shuffling out of the shadows at the edge of his room. “I should’ve probably known better. I mean, I’d do the same thing.”

Sam wouldn’t do the same thing. Sam would’ve recognized Dean’s voice immediately, because Sam wasn’t a creep who’d be thinking about their best friend’s underwear. But Dean let out a dry, empty chuckle anyway, and took a half step to the door.

“Cool. I’m just gonna, uh, waffles-“

Sam’s eyes narrowed, and the asshole moved to block Dean’s path to freedom. “It’s noon.”

“So? Last I checked, we’re adults. I can eat waffles whenever the hell I want-“

“But you don’t. You always eat waffles for breakfast.”

Dean waved him off, pushing down how the betterlust was suddenly pounding at his stomach for waffles. “Whatever, it’s not like you always, I dunno, stand in dark corners and sneak up on unsuspecting people-“

“This is my room.” Sam crossed his arms, and didn’t waver. “I can do whatever I want in here. Which brings me to the question, why are you in my room, Dean?”

“I,” Dean looked around the room, trying to keep his face neutral as he frantically searched for a good excuse. “Books.”

Sam raised his brows. “Books.”

“Yeah, I’m bored.” Dean held Sam’s skeptical glare, giving his most casual shrug. “Gonna pick up reading-“

“Dude.” Sam gave him a flat look. “That’s gotta be one of your worst lies ever. And we lie a lot.”

“Shut up, I could read a book-“

“Not when you’re currently under a curse that makes you only want to do things you like. You have your own books, Dean, if you wanted to read, you’d use them.”

“Fine.” Dean sighed. “I was looking for a pillow-“

“We have plenty of pillows that aren’t in my room. Try again.”

“I needed a chair-“

“No you-“ Sam cut himself off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why are you being such a dick about this. We don’t see you for like, a week, and then I catch you sneaking around my room?” Sam said Her name, and Dean’s heart faltered in his chest. “She’s really worried about you, Dean, and I need to be able to tell her we talked and that you’re fine. But I can’t do that if you’re going to be so,” Sam gestured at Dean, shaking his head with another noise of exasperation. “Weird.”

Dean couldn’t speak. Sam was looking at him like he expected a response, but Dean couldn’t do anything but remain rooted in place, trying to fight the feeling in his chest and head—rotten and aching and rolling around in a sound of you’re fucking sick, Dean Winchester, you made Her worry about you while you were thinking about her bed and how she smells and her underwear—as the betterlust rioted inside his body. Trying to infect Dean’s last bit of will, override every smart and rational part of his brain that knew he wasn’t allowed to have Her, and force him down the hall. To Her room, to the kitchen, to the library, to wherever the hell She was so Dean could hold her and kiss Her and tell her to never worry about him, because now Dean was touching her, so everything felt good again.

It was intolerable. Every single nerve in Dean’s body felt like it was going to explode if he didn’t get close to Her, if he didn’t hear her voice or see her face. And this was just from the thought of Her, from Sam only saying Her name. Dean wasn’t sure how the hell he’d get through this, not when he really couldn’t have Her. He needed to get out of here, to lock himself away with every other thing that fed the betterlust until he got a dam grip over his own body and stopped feeling like death-

“Dean.” Sam was half shouting, his face drawn in worry as Dean forced himself back to focus. “What the hell is going on with you-“

“I can’t,” Dean raised his hand, shoving the betterlust deep, deep down into a locked chamber near his heart, and forcing careful, slow words onto his tongue with a long, slow breath. “I can’t tell you-“

“You’re freaking me out, man-“

“Because I don’t know!” Dean barked, running a hand over his face in an attempt to wipe off every bit of odd, stinging heat on his brow. “I mean, I do know, but I can’t explain it, Sam. The spell worked, but I don’t, maybe it worked too fucking well. I can’t, I don’t know how to get a goddamn grip over it-“

“You’re not supposed to have a grip over it,” Sam said, his voice suddenly gentle and still coated in stupid, pointless worry. “It’s still the Mark, Dean, it’s just refocused-“

“Well, it’s refocused on the wrong fucking thing! I want, I want something I’ve never even had, so I need your laptop to give it something I can give it-“

“Dean, whatever you need, I’m sure we can find it-“

“The laptop.” He snapped. “It’ll fix this.”

“That’s…” Sam paused, frowning. “That’s not what you want though, right? It’s not the, um, craving?” Sam said Her name, and something hot punched Dean in the gut. “I think she said we’re calling them cravings-“

“Yeah. She did. We talked about it.” Dean had to keep his words short, or he’d start vomiting out things he wasn’t allowed to say. “And what the betterlust wants, I can’t give it. No one can. So,” he nodded to Sam’s laptop, resting on his bed. “If you want to help, let me take your stupid laptop.”

Sam didn’t move, his frown only deepening. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to deny the, uh, the betterlust something it wants-“

“What the hell am I supposed to do about that? I told you, I can’t have it-“

Sam said Her name, and the betterlust clouded over Dean’s skull.

“Sam, I don’t know what the hell you think you’re saying-“

“It’s just us.” Sam sighed, moving to his bed. “You don’t have to lie.”

Dean fists clenched, something tightening around his throat as he watched Sam unplug his laptop. “Shut up-“

“Dean.” Sam gave him one of the most exhausted, flat, annoying looks Dean had ever seen on his brother’s face. “C’mon, man. Just, for five minutes, pretend we’re like, emotionally healthy and trust each other. It’s her.” Sam said Her name again, and he needed to stop fucking doing that or Dean might actually die, the words begging to fall out of his mouth like an exhale or vomit.

“Fuck I, I can’t control it, Sammy. And it’s dangerous. For myself, for,” he swallowed, muttering Her name. “And if you’re about to give me one of those lectures about feelings, I am not in the damn mood-“

Sam turned around, and pushed the laptop into Dean’s hands. “I’m not going to lecture you. You know what I think, and I know you’re going to be a stubborn idiot and not listen to me when I tell you that it really wouldn’t be that bad-“

“This is sure startin’ to sound like a lecture-“

“But,” Sam gave him a stern glare, and it was times like these Dean hated that the man was so fucking tall. “I don’t think now is the time to work on it. I’ll tell her you’re fine, you’ll get a handle on the betterlust, and we’ll figure this out, because that’s what we do. Just,” Sam kept his grip tight on his laptop, frowning down at Dean’s outstretched hands. “Don’t do anything gross with it.”

Dean rolled his eyes, yanking the laptop into his arms. “I’m not gonna be gross-“

“Uh huh.” Sam gave him a flat look, bracing his hands on his hips. “If I get that back only to find a bunch of porn-“

“Then you’ll thank me for showing you the only pair of boobs you’ll ever see- Hey!” Dean dodged Sam’s hand, reaching out to grab the laptop. “This was a gift, man, you don’t get to take it back-“

“It was not a gift, it was a loan. And I’m serious, I don’t want to have to wipe that thing because you downloaded a million hentai videos with viruses-“

“Don’t worry, Sammy.” Dean took a large step back, placing his hand on the door, pausing to make sure She wasn’t outside, and pushing it open. “Your computer is in safe, very chaste hands. I’m a downright angel. A saint, some would call me.”

“I cannot think of one person who would call you a saint, Dean- Dean-“

He’d taken off, half running down the hall to return to the safety of the garage, and Sam’s voice—calling after him—sounded more annoyed than angry. Like he knew he was fighting a war he’d already lost.

“No porn!”

—————————

Sam says Dean is fine. That they’d talked, no murder had happened, and Dean was weird but in a normal, Dean way. That the betterlust has done its job, and he’s not avoiding you, but just busy. That the betterlust has given him a wave of energy, so he’s using it to get things done.

But here’s the thing about living with the Winchesters. At first they’re unreadable—just two brooding, hot men who seem to speak in almost exclusively grunts and strange looks—but then you figure out how to pull one brick from the wall, and the whole thing comes toppling down. You know everything about them, and they don’t think you know everything about them, and everyone is happy pretending that they’re still mysterious and mythical to you.

They’re not.

They’re unbelievably predictable.

Dean has a routine of work he does on Baby—he’d explained the cycle to you once, and you hadn’t followed a word of it, but his hands kept moving and he looked so pretty and his voice was so deep, so who can blame you—and a seemingly chaotic daily agenda that took you about a week to figure out. It’s—even in the bunker—the pattern of someone who lives on the road. He does laundry at midnight because there will be less people, even though the only other options for people are you and Sam. He eats lunch around 11am, because that’s when diners start serving lunch. He goes to the bathroom early in the morning, because he’s getting ready for a long drive he doesn’t have to take.

And you could make the argument that you know Dean so well because of the whole being hopelessly in love with him thing, but Sam’s no better. If you know Dean like the back of your dominant hand, you know Sam like the back of your non-dominant one. You could pick Dean out of a crowd anywhere—because some very, very annoying part of your brain is always searching for him—but you wouldn’t need to pick Sam out of a crowd. You’d just have to cup your hands over your mouth, shout something stupid, and he’d appear behind you to tell I don’t think that’s true. You could follow Dean around like a puppy for the rest of your life, but Sam would be right at your side, bitching and moaning about you not just telling Dean how you feel.

You won’t. You’ll keep looking Dean in the eyes after he comes back from another hookup, laugh at his jokes, and pretend you’re not dying. Not being stabbed right through your chest when he smiles at you, because he’s bragging to Sam about things you want to experience but never want to hear about. Pretending your skin doesn’t grow warm and electric when he brushes his hand against yours on accident, that it doesn’t make your lungs swell with an overdose of air and your brain turn to an intoxicating hum of Dean.

And Sam will keep looking at you with raised brows and a pointed expression, and tell you that Dean will realize eventually so you should just get it over with now.

And you’ll keep glaring at him and remind Sam that he only knows because you explicitly told him. That, unless you tell Dean, he’s never going to have a clue because you’re a fantastic liar. Both the brothers seem to forget that, while they know you, they still don’t really know how to read you.

But you can read them. You know Dean’s every tone, and Sam’s every expression, and their every habit and quirk and pattern.

And Dean’s never busy.

And Sam is fucking lying to you.

You don’t know why he’s lying to you, because Dean’s welfare isn’t something Sam lies to you about. Sam lies to you about his own relationships, or his mental stability, or about doing the dishes, but he doesn’t lie to you about Dean. He’s never looked at your nose—which he only does when he lies—and said Dean's good.

He’s never used that too gruff, bland, painfully rehearsed tone that screams liar to you when he’s talking about Dean. He doesn’t know you’ll immediately figure out that he’s lying, but that just means the lie is more thought out. That he’s practiced the lie, and thinks you won’t catch on.

Sam’s lying about Dean, and you can’t tell him you know he’s lying, and you’re really, really worried. Because Sam says the betterlust is under control, but you haven’t seen Dean for a week. Sam says he’s working on Baby, but you’re pretty sure Dean’s cycle is at its slowest point. Sam says Dean’s just busy, but that man doesn’t get busy unless you’re on a hunt. He lounges around, bothers Sam with you, watches TV with you, eats dinner with you, drinks with you, and talks to you until you’re both a little buzzed and stupid.

But Dean’s not talking to you. You haven’t been in the same room as him since you got back to the bunker, and Sam suddenly seems intent on fucking keeping it that way.

“I,” you glance up at the door to the garage, holding your knees to your chest. “I think I’m just going to go talk to him. See if he needs anything-“

“No!” Sam half leaps to block your path, and you’re not even fully out of the chair. “I mean, uh, it’s okay. He’s fine. Don’t worry about him.”

“But-“

“Do you want to hang out? While I work?”

That makes you certain Sam is lying. Sam’s never exactly enthusiastic about your habit of bugging him while he works, even if he knows it’s just your excuse to either talk to Dean or talk about Dean.

If Sam’s an onlooker to you staring at and weakly flirting with Dean, it ends with him telling you to confess, you flipping him off, and Sam muttering that he wishes you guys would at least be dramatic in the kitchen instead.

If Sam’s a captive audience to you moaning about how much you love Dean, it ends with him making a sour face and telling you that you should make some friends who Dean isn’t related to.

And you always tell him that, if Sam wants you to fuck off, he should say that. And he never does, so you’re there every time, and Sam is mock annoyed every time.

Which is why he never asks you to hang out. You hang out no matter what, and you’re pretty sure Sam secretly prays for the day you forget to flop into the chair across from his, singing a pop song off-key until he rolls his eyes and indulges you.

Sam should not be already indulging you already. You hadn’t even started singing yet.

And that’s exactly why you sit back down. Whatever Sam is up to, whatever’s wrong with Dean, is serious enough for Sam to blatantly lie and throw himself in harm’s way—listening to you talk about Dean for two hours straight—to keep you from knowing.

But you don’t let it go. You pretend you’ve let it go, and Sam buys it, but for the rest of the day your mind is in the garage with Dean, trying to figure out what he needs. If the spell failed, and the bloodlust is back. If the spell worked, but too well, and now Dean doesn’t want to do anything but what he loves, which doesn’t include talking to you or, apparently, Sam. If Rowena taking your hair fucked it all up, and now Dean is trapped doing things he doesn’t love. If he’s in pain, or tired, or angry. And, most of all, why wouldn’t he want you to know. Dean tells you everything, and whatever it is, you’ve seen him do worse and still emerged from the other side in love with him.

Maybe he’d be more willing to listen if you tell him you love him. That he doesn’t trust you and it’s breaking your heart because you love him, and whatever it is, you want to help. You always want to help. Dean could be pushing his guts up his throat, and you’d still want to help. Because you love him.

He wouldn’t believe you. Half the reason you’ve never told Dean you love him is because you’re certain he won’t believe you, then tell you he doesn’t want your pity, then push you away. And you’d lose him forever, because you’d leave and he won’t love you enough to try and bring you back.

But you have to know what’s wrong. It’s eating at your intestines and ribs, because Sam and Dean are hiding something and they don’t trust you with it and Dean’s in pain and you can’t understand why.

You need to look Dean in the eyes and either hear him lie to you—just like Sam, but with a likely devastating impact on your organs and bones—so you know that he really, truly won’t tell you, or watch him decide that he can trust you with whatever’s hurting him and let you help.

It would be easy to do if the asshole wasn’t so obviously avoiding you. If you hadn’t heard him sneaking around the halls like he wasn’t supposed to be there, if he wasn’t suddenly never in your path throughout the day when he’d been previously a key factor of your every moment. He’s hiding, and you don’t have a single clue how to confront him when Sam is acting like going near the garage will give you Herpes.

You know Dean’s sleeping in his room—you can hear him snore through the walls, and when you grab his laundry the pile has grown—but you’re not brave enough to walk into his room and confront him. You don’t think you could live with yourself if he felt violated by that, and even if he didn’t there’s a pretty strong chance just the sight of a sleeping Dean Winchester would make you fall to your knees and forget how to speak.

You haven’t seen him in the Dean Cave once, which is incredibly disturbing, and takes ambushing him while he’s relaxed and two beers into a movie is off the table.

You could get him in the kitchen. You haven’t seen him eating—you haven’t seen him at all—but the pies you’ve been making for him can’t just be disappearing overnight. And there’s still a little too much coffee in the morning—just enough for you to pour into your mug and wonder if this is what Dean would taste like if you kissed him —but it’s colder, which means he’s making it earlier.

But he’s making it.

So if you can time it right, you can stake out the kitchen and get Dean to talk to you. Even if it doesn’t end up answering your questions, at least Dean will have talked to you.

Because that’s really what you’ve missed the most. Through the months without Dean, the time where Dean wasn’t really Dean, and all the bloodlust, you’ve really just missed him talking to you. In an easy, natural way that always made you fall in love with him a little more, and made you more certain in your choice to never, ever tell him. You won’t lose him.

But you seem to already have.

So, nothing bad can really come of chasing just a few more words from Dean.

End Note: The Eric Kripke curse got me, and I had to add another chapter. Dear fan fiction and writing gods, please let this end in five chapters. I've learned my lesson and will never try to estiamte the length of anything again. Amen.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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mayrose713 · 2 months ago

Text

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 5

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

I scheduled this to post while I'm at work so if you had asked to be added to the tag list today, I promise you'll be added to the next chapter and forward.

Chapter 5

Changbin took the car keys from Chan deciding he’s going to be the one to drive them back as he knew Chan was going through a lot of emotions right now and he knew Chan would be glancing back at their omega every five seconds.

And Changbin was correct as half way back Chan looks back at the girl once again, sadness and anger coursing through him as he watches Y/n look out the window, her head resting on her hand. He can smell all the emotions she’s going through as well.

“Y/n, please know we’ll get this all figured out, it’s okay.” The omega just nods at Chan’s words but it’s when she takes a ragged breath in and sniffs that Changbin looks back at her in the rearview mirror.

“Please look at us, pretty girl.”

Y/n tries to wipe her tears before looking at the two alphas in the front seat, tears still brimming her eyes. “I’m sorry for not telling you guys about the suppressants.”

“Oh baby girl.” Chan coos, eyes softening. “You have nothing to apologize for. We aren’t mad at you. Your family should have never made you get them in the first place.”

“I just don’t want to cause any more problems for your pack.” The omega wimpers. “Part of your pack is already against me being here, I’m sure they won’t be too happy about all of this either.”

“Don’t worry about Hyunjin and Seungmin.” Changbin shakes his head. “They’ll just have to deal with it. We’re not letting you go anywhere, you’re our omega… That is if you want to be.”

“It’s not like I have a choice when it comes to fated mates.” Y/n giggles a little.

“True.” Changbin smiles at her small laugh. “But we won’t force you to stay if you don’t wish to.”

“Just know you are always welcomed in our pack.” Chan smiles at her. “We will accept whatever it is you decide.”

The omega thinks about it for a second before nodding. “I think before anyone makes any decisions about this though the pack should hear about what I’ve been through.”

“And we’ll listen whenever you are ready to tell all of us.” Changbin gives her a soft smile in the mirror.

Y/n nods before looking back out the window and eventually falls asleep which the two alpha’s didn’t notice until after they pull up to the house and see her sleeping peacefully in the back seat.

“I’ll take her up to her room” Changbin gets out of the car opening the backdoor and gently picks her up in his arms as Chan comes around to them.

“I texted the group chat after we had left the doctor’s office that we’ll be having a pack meeting and should be waiting in the dining room.” Chan admires the sleeping omega in the other alpha’s arms.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Changbin goes into the house first taking the girl up the stairs as Chan watches before heading to the dining room with a sigh and gives his mates a smile when he sees them all.

“Where’s Changbin and Y/n?” Felix sits up straight in his seat at the sight of his pack alpha.

“Y/n fell asleep in the car so Changbin took her up to her room.”

“It’s not her room.” Hyunjin grumbles, resulting in a whack on the back of the head by Jeongin.

“Felix said you had taken her to see Dr. Hajoon.” Jisung ignores the oldest beta. “Is that what the pack meeting is about?”

“Yeah.” Chan takes in a deep breath and takes a seat at the head of the table and rubs the bridge of his nose. “It was a lot.”

Minho grabs the oldest alphas hand and sends out a calming scent.

Changbin walks into the dining room. “Alright, she’s asleep in her nest.”

Seungmin and Hyunjin both roll their eyes but refrain from saying anything.

“What happened at the doctors?” Jisung asks before Changbin can fully take his seat, he and Felix anxious to know.

“Her arm wasn’t the only wounds she had.” Minho explains as he was the one to request she goes. “I had thought she could possibly have broken ribs based on the bruising she has all up her side.”

“They luckily weren’t.” Chan tells them and Minho sighs. “But we learned that her family had been making her get suppressant injections since she presented.”

“WHAT?” Minho and Jeongin growl and Felix and Jisung whine.

Even though Seungmin and Hyunjin aren’t happy about her being there they still don’t like what’s being said and comforts the two other betas.

“The injections suppressed a lot, not just her heat like the pills do.” Changbin tries to stay calm and level. “They suppressed everything omega about her, all of her omega tendencies, her scent and her appetite.”

“Hajoon was confused at first when she met her because she didn’t smell like an omega to her but a beta.” Chan watched as the other six became confused by this.

“But she smells like an omega?” Jeongin furrows his brows.

“To us, yes.” Changbin nods. “Because to fated mates her scent smells like her true scent, just as though it isn’t fully there.”

Minho and Jeongin look at each other and Felix gasps. “Are you saying?”

Chan nods. “She’s our omega, our fated mate.”

“NO.” Hyunjin stands up so quickly causing his chair to fall backwards. “We all agreed eight is fate. We all agreed after Woojin left that we wouldn’t continue searching for our fated omega. That we’re all content with Felix since he acts like one.”

“Hyunjin.”

“Then you had to be a savior and bring home an omega in need, not discussing it with all of us first, letting Felix get attached to her. And now you wanna try and convince us she’s our fated mate?” The oldest beta is seething. “I don’t fucking buy it. We have been doing just fine since Woojin left, why change that?”

Everyone stays silent as Hyunjin continues to glare at Chan.

“I agree with Jinnie.” Seungmin stands up too just slower as to not cause a scene. “If she was our fated mate our sub-genders would have told us the moment we smelled her when she had walked into the house but they didn’t. I’ll compromise and say she can stay until she finds somewhere else to go. I’m not that cruel to let a defenseless omega out on the streets by herself. But she better be actively figuring that out and get out of here as soon as she can.”

“She’s going to experience a dry heat when the suppressants wear off in a few days.” Chan announces when the two were about to walk off causing them to stop. “Hajoon says it’s going to be painful. She’s going to need a lot of help during it.”

“Then I guess you six are gonna have your hands full this weekend.” Hyunjin retorts before he walks out of the room with Seungmin.

After a few moments Jisung spoke up. “Is it true? Is she really our fated omega?”

Chan’s facial expression softens at the excited look both Jisung and Felix are giving. “I believe so. Based on the information from Hajoon, she is. We’ll know for sure when the suppressants wear off though and our sub-genders will tell us.”

“What does she need for the dry heat?” Minho grabs a pen and paper from the counter behind him to write everything down. “I’ll get whatever supplies are needed from the city after work tomorrow. And what is it we all need to do?”

Chan smiles at his caretaker alpha. “Hajoon said it can last between two to seven days. We need to make sure to keep her fed and hydrated as it’s going to be uncomfortable and painful for her.”

“Symptoms of it are haziness, cramps, separation anxiety, headaches, fearfulness, high emotions or extremely emotionless, distressed scent.” Changbin reads off of the paper the doctor had given to them. “It’s best to keep her in her nest or den, so I was thinking Felix, maybe take her to the den and kind of help her with the communal nest. Her omega instincts still won’t kick in until probably when the dry heat starts so she’s not going to fully know how to do it. Just make sure it’ll be comfortable for her.”

“You know Hyun and Minnie will be upset with her being in the den.” Jeongin points out.

“We know but it will be best to have her in the den since it's in a common area and it’ll be easier for all of us to watch over her and check up on her.” Chan reasons. “Because of the symptoms of separation anxiety and fearfulness, she shouldn’t be left alone. Someone needs to stay with her at all times.”

“I think that part will be easy.” Jisung smiles. “Can someone take Lix and I to get more nesting materials for her? Not only for preparation for her dry heat but also once it’s over and her omega tendencies kick back in, she’ll need stuff.”

“I can take you guys tomorrow.” Jeongin smiles at the two.

“I’ll talk with her tonight and find out her favorite foods and pick up snacks and drinks after my last class tomorrow.” Minho writes down some other stuff.

“She needs her own clothes too.” Felix reminds them all. “She can’t keep wearing stuff from Hannah’s closet.”

“Why don’t you guys pick out some comfy clothes for her for the weekend while you’re getting the nesting materials tomorrow.” Changbins hands Jeongin one of his credit cards. “We’ll take her on an actual shopping spree after everythings over.”

Chan then remembers the prescriptions from the doctor and grabs the bag placing it on the table next to Minho. “Hajoon gave us bruising cream, a topical ointment for her gash, there were signs of early infection as well as antibiotics.”

“I’ll make sure she takes the medications and help her with applying the creams.” Minho nods, taking a look at the contents in the bag.

“And what are we going to do about the two bitchy betas?” Jisung crosses his arms. “All they’re gonna do is complain the whole weekend and probably be giving off sour scents because of their moods.”

“Hopefully they either come around before then or I’m hoping when the suppressants wear off their sub-genders will be telling them that she’s their fated mate and will give in.” Chan speaks his thoughts. “She also said she wants to tell all of us about what happened to her with her family before she or any of us decide about her becoming pack.”

“But she’s our fated mate, she is pack.” Felix pouts.

“We told her that no matter what, even with Hyunjin and Seungmin throwing hissy fits, that she is always welcomed with us and we will be accepting of her.” Changbin comforts him. “We don’t want to force her to stay if she isn’t wanting to though.”

The younger three all frown.

“I’m sure she will choose to stay in the end.” Chan reassures them. “She just needs to get through all of this first and after she sees how we are as a pack and treat her right she’ll want to stay.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“You can come in now.” Y/n calls to Minho who had been waiting outside the bathroom while she showered.

She’s sitting on the counter in a pair of sleep shorts and a bra, a shirt folded next to her for afterwards. Her hair still wet and the alpha takes a moment to admire her.

“Take this.” He hands her a medicine cup with her antibiotic in it and sets the creams and bandages down on the counter.

Minho takes the bruise relief cream and starts to rub it on her side first.

“You really don’t have to do this, I can do it myself.” The omega places her hand on his shoulder to allow him better access to her side.

“It’s easier if I do it.” He continues his work, his hand going up under the side of her bra a little to get the very top of the bruising, it’s when he rubs a rather tender spot that she whimpers in pain. “Sorry kitten.”

Y/n watches him after the surprising nickname he called her as he focuses hard on making sure all of the bruise has cream rubbed into it.

“Is it okay if I move the waistband of your shorts to get your hip and the top of your thigh?” He makes sure he has permission first.

“Yeah.” She whispers and tries not to be embarrassed as he moves the waistband and tries to get it done as quickly as possible.

Once he’s done with her side he moves to her arm with both the bruise cream and the topical cream. “Can you write me a list of some of your favorite meals, snacks and drinks?”

She looks at him confused but he doesn’t look up at her. “Ummm, I guess… I just… haven't eaten much other than protein shakes and salads for the last few years.”

The alpha stops what he’s doing and looks at the girl shocked. “Please don’t tell me you chose that diet for yourself.”

She shakes her head no. “The injections suppress my appetite and any time I was hungry that was all I was allowed to have.”

“God I really hate your family.” He tucks a strand of wet hair behind her ear. “We’ll fix that, I’ll make you whatever and we’ll figure out what you do and don’t like, together.”

“Thank you Min.”

“Of course kitten.” He gives her a soft look before going back to her arm.

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pers1st · 10 months ago

Text

can't quit you - alexia putellas x reader

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

warnings: bit suggestive, angst but happy ending

Taking a quick breath in after sleepily glancing at your phone to check the time, you shoot up in the bed that is not yours, next to the body that is not your dog's, whipping around. Your head drops as you get ever so dizzy, and you hit the nightstand next to the bed with a loud bang.

"Ow", you wince, holding your forehead tightly and pressing against it, as if that would help your pain in any way.

"Joder", a soft voice mumbles next to you as you push the covers back, revealing your still naked body. Usually, it would be dark when you left Alexia's bed, but by now, the sun had risen and you were late.

Fuck.

"Get up", you instruct her as you crawl out of the warmth of the bed, hastily gathering the clothes you'd left on the floor last night.

"Ale, we have training." The blonde is still laying in bed, the duvet cover all the way up to her nose as she shields herself in comfortability. She doesn't react to your words.

"Ale, we're late", you huff as you pull your sweatpants on. At that, the seemingly unconscious body shoots up, banging her head the same way you had.

"¡Joder!", she curses as she mimics your actions.

It's been two months since you last spent a night in Alexia's bed. Your relationship was a long and stable one, and when you broke the news to your teammates, every single one of them was shocked.

You and Alexia, however, weren't. Despite the two years you called yourself her girlfriend, the both of you agreed that it was time to call it quits. Time to go back to being friends. You let yourself become too comfortable, and, along with it - clingy. The two of you could never be apart, and you both know that it wasn't beneficial for you or Alexia individually.

Still, you know that, no matter what happened, you can always count on Alexia, and so the breakup felt less like a stop in your relationship and more like a shift. That's how you found yourself in her bed after a team night out, and then, just a month ago, the two of you silently agreed that whatever this was - it was okay. You had, after all, agreed to remain friends (with benefits, it seemed).

But the golden rule of it all seems to be that you don't stay over. You and Alexia agreed to spend time apart, to be on your own, and although it included late night calls and (sometimes drunken) hookups, you didn't sleep over anymore. You didn't wake up in her arms anymore. Until today.

"Ale, I don't have any training clothes", you sigh, the realization dawning on you that of course, you didn't pack an overnight bag. Why would you? You never stay over.

"So? Wear mine", Alexia shrugs, throwing a pair of shorts into your face. You duck away quickly and watch as the fabric gets caught on the lamp.

"Yeah, sure", you chuckle.

"You go to training, I'll be there once I've driven by my house."

"But that'll mean more extra laps, no? Just wear mine", Alexia huffs, seemingly unbothered by your problem. It's, however, not as easy as it used to be.

"I can't, Ale. We're not together anymore, we don't share clothes, we don't fucking fall asleep together!"

You didn't notice your voice raised until Alexia raises her eyebrows at you, wincing ever so slightly.

With her still looking at you like a deer caught in headlights, you grab your keys from her wardrobe and leave her behind, not caring to say goodbye.

Your ex-girlfriend confuses you. How does she not see the problem? How does she not see the gravity that comes with the night you spent at her flat? How does she not understand the problems this causes?

You huff in annoyance as you walk towards your car, knowing that you'll be running laps for a good half-hour after training, seeing as officially, you were supposed to be there five minutes ago. With the extra ten minutes it took to go home, and the fifteen minute drive to the training grounds, you know that Jona will have a very stern talk to you. The only hope you can cling onto is that Alexia is already there, and the fact that no one notices how weird it is for the both of you to be late on the same day, when you usually never are.

Jona's words are harsh, but they are nothing you can't handle. Alexia already finished her laps during training, it seems, as she is not with you while you round the pitch over and over again. With only two laps left, you speed up slightly, not noticing the figure sat on the bench before you finally come to a stop, reaching for your water bottle.

Keira raises her eyebrows at you silently as you take greedy gulps. It's not a particularly warm day, but the sun is beaming down on the pitch as if it is Summer and the excessive running left you dry.

"What happened? You're never late."

You know by her tone that she is hinting at something, but you shrug as the two of you begin walking towards the building.

"My alarm didn't go."

It's a lie. You didn't even set an alarm, with how exhausted you had been last night. Keira wants to say something else, you can sense it in the way she keeps looking at you and then back down, but you don't urge her to, because you don't want to hear it. You don't want to hear anything, really. You didn't speak a single word to Alexia during training, dodging her every time you were asked to partner up and not cheering her on the way you usually did.

Even now, as you joined Keira for lunch in the cafeteria after a quick shower, you lead your friend to the table furthest in the back, away from everyone else. She doesn't mind, though, instead yapping to you about everything and nothing. Aitana joins you halfway through your meal, and you quickly become the third wheel, though you can't exactly complain. Your head is dangerously close to exploding, with the speed that thoughts are racing through your head.

Maybe sleeping with Alexia after the breakup has been a bad idea. After all, you split because it seemed impossible to spend time away from each other. With the excuse of remaining "friends", you still partnered with her every time, made conversation with her about everything and nothing, ended up in her bed every evening just to escape mere minutes later and pretend nothing happened. It's a vicious cycle, and it needs to stop. And that realization is what's bothering you the most. The fact that you need to stop. The fact that you actually need to be apart from the woman you still love so dearly.

You don't notice Keira and Aitana already left until a new body appears in front of you. Glancing up, you find the one person you didn't wanted to see.

"Estas bien?", she asks, looking down at your full plate. Feeling nauseous all of a sudden, you declare your lunch finished and throw your wet hair over your shoulder.

"Sí", you mumble as you rise from your seat, beginning to walk to the tray of dirty dishes.

"Estas segura?"

"Sí, Ale", you huff, reaching around her to discard your plate.

"Okay", Alexia shrugs. "Are you coming over tonight?"

You shake your head, looking at her with a stare that, admittedly, she doesn't deserve. Alexia isn't the catalyst of this problem, anyways. It was the both of you who made this decision, silently agreeing on a plan that now seemed so foolish. How did you expect to spend every night with her, not allowing yourself to be embraced by her warmth and love, and not fall for her all over again? Alexia agreed to the breakup. She is okay with the two of you not being together again. So, why the hell aren't you?

"No, I can't tonight", you reply, though it is a total lie. You don't have plans at night, ever, because you always know where you'll be. Where you would have been. If the two of you were still together.

"Okay", Alexia says, though it sounds more like a question. You can't seem to stand in her presence for another second, as you bid her a quick, cold-hearted goodbye only to sprint away from the cafeteria and to the locker room to gather your bags and speed home.

Alexia and you agreed. You need to be alone. And you need to practice it, now that you can't drag yourself into her arms again. There is no space for you anymore.

You can't seem to sleep on your own. Before, you were so worn out from Alexia's persistence to wreck you in every possible, leaving you in a sleep so deep the only thing to get you to stir was your shrieking alarm. Now, though, you fall into bed with a thousand thoughts rummaging through your head, and you lie awake for hours, watching the sun set, watching the sun rise, all while tossing and turning around, desperate to find rest.

It's not difficult for the team to catch on. You sweat off every bit of concealer meant to hide the shadows beneath your eyes, and your movements are slow - hazy, almost. Your performance is average, at most, and no one had ever seen you perform averagely.

Alexia notices too - at least you hope, because there is no way she can just forget about you, is there? She watches you curiously, but she never says a word about your piss poor sprints, your late passes or weak shots.

Even Jona seems hesitant to say something - and that is what you're left with. Everyone looking, no one asking. Everyone noticing, no one checking. The whole situation is beginning to drive you insane - Alexia is starting to drive you insane. Though she is not the culprit of this, you can't help but feel your heart wither away every time you look at her and feel just a little bit of anger. This isn't how you want to feel about the woman you loved for such a long time.

It takes you exactly a week to end up in her bed again. Alexia doesn't ask why you are behaving the way you are, and she doesn't react to your hesitation to come over to hers again, which makes you crave her even more. You're a bit like a child, when it comes to these things. You always seem to want what you can't have, to want what doesn't want you. Her head just peeks up from between your thighs as you lean back into her cushions, eyes hazy and head spinning. Alexia is so, so good to you. The anger is long forgotten, at this point.

"Estas bien?", she asks the way she always does, and it causes you to chuckle.

"Sí, Ale. Muy bien", you huff, as she lays down next to you gently, her own body covered in beads of sweat. You push yourself up from the mattress with the last bit of strength you have left, gently straddling her lap as you lean down to capture her lips in another kiss. Realistically, you are worn out, at this point. You've been in Alexia's bed for hours, and the both of you are likely satisfied. But it is so hard to leave.

She chuckles into your lips, intertwining the both of your hands with hers as you finally steal another kiss from her.

This- it felt oddly domestic. There was a softness in her eyes that you haven't seen- or potentially just not noticed, since the two of you broke up. It makes you stop in your tracks.

"What's wrong?", she asks as you lean back on her lap, looking at this glint in her eyes that completely captures you. You can't describe it, but this feels so right- being here, in her bed, being on top of her, laughing, kissing, sharing intimacy, the look in her eyes as she gazes at your every inch, that it feels entirely wrong. These moments are over. Your relationship is over. You have to remind yourself, again and again.

"I should go", you huff silently, pressing one last kiss to her lips before climbing off of her. You almost whimper at the loss of contact, but you rise to your feet anyways, searching for your clothes on her wooden floor.

"You could stay." Alexia sits up, patting the spot next to her as she looks at you, following your every movement with her eyes.

"No, Ale. I should go", you remind her, and remind yourself, and pull your hoodie over your head.

"I'll see you tomorrow?", you ask, though it is a given. The two of you always see each other at training.

"Will you partner with me for passing?", she asks back, a chuckle on her lips.

"Why? Miss me already?"

You only catch the meaning of what you said by the time you are in her hallway, and you pull the door of her apartment close a little harsher than expected. Alexia doesn't miss you. The both of you know it.

It seems like a vicious cycle that the two of you are caught in. Every time you decide to put some distance between the two of you, it leaves you craving her even more. It almost feels like an addiction you are so badly trying to break, but you relapse every time, soaking in every second you can spend in her arms. You go over to hers a few times, indulging the attention she gives every inch of you, and then you leave her high and dry, the wall between you rising again as you dodge her during training and outside of it.

Just last night, you were in Alexia's arms, letting her take care of you the way she always does, letting her kiss every inch of you until there was nothing left and the two of you were breathless.

Today, you didn't speak a single word to her.

Unable to stand the silence in your apartment, you asked Keira to join you for dinner at home, after texting Alexia that you couldn't come tonight.

Alexia, obviously, doesn't seem to believe you as she knocks on your door furiously, all the while Taylor Swift is echoing off the walls of your kitchen quietly, with Keira sitting on the countertop, stirring the pasta every now and then. It is dark in Barcelona already, and just twenty four hours ago, you were with Alexia. Still, she is the last thing you expect when you open the door.

She is dressed in sweats, but she still looks so good. It takes you a second to actually recognize her presence.

"Alexia, I have-"

a guest.

That's what you intended to say, but the woman pushed past you already, barging through your apartment.

"We need to have a talk", she declares as she strides through your hallway. You only manage to catch up to her by the time she has noticed Keira, who looks between the two of you questioningly.

"You, out!", Alexia points to the door as Keira shakes her head, a grin on her face.

"But we haven't had dinner yet!", she protests with a chuckle, but at seeing Alexia's stern face, which isn't kidding in the least, she looks at you, pleadingly.

You shrug. No one disagrees with Alexia.

"Wow, just kicking me out? I'm hungry, you were supposed to feed me! I can't believe this", she mumbles as she pushes herself off the countertop, shaking her head in disbelief as she walks past you.

"I hope your food burns!", she yells from the hallway when Alexia sits down on the couch and you go to turn the stove off. The door crashes closed with a loud bang.

"That wasn't nice", you point out to your ex-girlfriend. Alexia is strict when it comes to football, but outside of the sport, outside of the captain-responsibility, she is the sweetest teammate, friend, girlfriend. Her behavior towards Keira makes you sense the gravity of whichever conversation she is going to have with you, and it makes anxiety tingle in your stomach.

"Sit with me", she orders, though it sounds more like a question when she looks at you and you can see the slightest bit of doubt in her eyes. Along with that softness. That glint.

You are next to her within seconds.

"Y/N, I need to know. If we are friends or not- I can't do this hot and cold", she starts, and the vulnerability in her voice makes you shudder. You didn't know that this affected her at all, she never voiced any complaints, but the way she looks at you makes you realize that this whole situation had nagged her more than she admitted.

"Why did you agree to this- whatever, if you don't want it?", you ask, not knowing how else to describe the situation, curious to know what she is asking of you. Does she not want you to come over anymore? Does she want you to be over every night?

"Because I can't..."

You allow her the time to search for whatever word she is looking for, knowing that she always struggled with English.

"Quit you. I can't quit you, and seeing you, holding you, if you are in my bed I can convince myself that this isn't real, that we didn't break up", she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for you to hear. She spins your head.

She agreed to the breakup. She agreed that it would be best for the both of you when you first opened the conversation of how dependent you felt on her. In truth, the realization of how much you love Alexia had only hit you when every footballer had suddenly gotten engaged, and you realized that all you wanted was to marry Alexia. The thought was scary, and it sent you into a rabbit hole for a bit, wondering silently whatever you were going to do with yourself when Alexia decided that this relationship just didn't work anymore. Now, as you look at her, you realize that it's foolish. Calling dibs on the breakup was your worst idea yet. But Alexia agreed.

"But you- you agreed, when I broke up with you. You wanted the breakup", you look at her with a questioning gaze, lingering on the freckles on her cheeks.

"Because I don't want to hold you back, amor. If breaking up with me is what you need then I'll try to survive, somehow. But that doesn't mean I want it."

At that, you throw yourself into Alexia's arms. How have you been so stupid? How have you hurt the one and only person you have ever, truly loved, just because you were scared?

You sense Alexia's hesitancy, but after a few seconds, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you even deeper into her chest. You can feel her heartbeat, and smell her perfume, and it makes you question how you have survived the past months without being hers. Her arms feel so familiar, so comforting, that you crave nothing more than to be here - in her embrace - forever.

"I only broke up with you because I was scared. I was so scared of you ever leaving me, and-"

Alexia interrupts you.

"I could never. I could never quit you, amor. You are stuck with me forever", she mumbles into your hair as she gently rocks the two of you from side to side, her arms never loosening around you. You chuckle at her choice of words, though you do admit it is somewhat fitting.

"You'll never quit me?", you ask, a slight smile on your lips as you pull back slightly. At that, she only tightens her arms around you.

"Never. I will never quit you."

notes: this is literally horrible

#woso imagine #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso one shot #barca femeni #barca x reader #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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walpu · 10 months ago

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Hello, first of all i want to say i really like your work and your writings 💞 Can i request some sickness headcanons with Aventurine when dating reader? Preferably hcs about how he would act if he was the one sick, and if the reader was sick. Thank you!

Thank you so much 🥹

Hope you'll enjoy it!

sickness headcanons with Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, hurt/comfort, no beta

I think Aven has a weak immune system due to the hardships he faced as a child. It's quite easy for him to catch a cold even if the weather is nice.

Hates it with a burning passion.

I mean it always sucks to be sick but he hates it for a bunch of other reasons as well.

It's time-consuming and he's a busy person, that's what he tells everyone.

And while it's true, the main reason is that he simply hates being so weak and vulnerable.

He has a private doctor who treats him but Aven doesn't fully trust them either.

He usually just takes his meds and tries to walk it off. Not like he can afford to take a day-off anyway.

When the two of you start dating and you notice that he doesn't feel well, he would try to brush it off. No big deal, baby. Just a bit tired. If we cuddle I'll get better <З

He trusts you, he truly does. However, it doesn't mean he wants you to see him miserable, weak and with a red stiffy nose. He doesn't like this image of himself so what if you won't like it either?

If he has a fever he will try to distance himself from you. Doesn't want you to get seek as well, he truly doesn't wish to be a cause of your discomfort.

Plus, what good can he give you when he's like that anyway? A bit off-topic but I just keep thinking about his "you can use me however you want me even betray me <З" line and his lunar new year card where he's like "yeahhh if you spend the day with me you'll be lucky for the rest of the year soooo" babygirl i promise you don't need to bribe me or be convenient just to have some company

Would never refuse your care though. Simply can't do it, he's a weak weak man. May whine a bit at the beginning, trying to convince you that this is not necessary, but as soon as you sooth him and maybe kiss his forehead he gives up completely.

Suddenly forgets all about the possibility of you getting sick if you keep being too close to him, will cling to you like a kitten.

"Your cuddles are the best medicine~" my ass.

Would follow all of your instructions even if they're questionable.

Wants to be spoon-fed too. Anddd tuck him in. And kiss his forehead. And stay by his side until he falls asleep.

He's needy okay. He never had anyone who would care for him when he's so weak so he cherishes every moment. May even get a bit upset when he's feeling better.

Would ask you to look after him for a few more days juts to make sure he's 10000% okay. Keep dotting on his tho because what if he'll get sick again because of the lack of cuddles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you're the one who's seek he'll overreact.

Like even if it's the smallest thing, he'll insist on calling his own private doctor to check on you.

You're the best thing in his life, his promised dawn. Of course he'll look after you. Even if looking after you means being a clingy mother hen.

No excuses, he'll take care of you. Even if you have seen worse. Even if you're very busy. Even if it's not that big of a deal.

The problem is. He's never looked after a sick person before.

His every attempt to nurse you back to health is overwhelming. Tries every single method he can find in the internet so please stop him if needed.

Insists on cuddling you all of the time. Generally tries to do everything you do for him when he's sick since you're literally his only example.

If you receive too many work-related phone calls from someone he would not hesitate to pick up the phone before you and say that yeah y/n is busy right now, they are sick, so the optimal solution would be for the caller to deal with their own problems, surely they are not so helpless to rely on a sick person to do everything for them :)

Just wants for you to be alright as soon as possible.

#hsr #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail #reader insert #walp's writing

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darkdevasofdestruction · 11 months ago

Text

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓵 𝓝°5 ~ 𝓗𝓾𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Oh, to be young and in love, in the most romantic era of the notorious 1950s, with one very magical man who never fail to make you swoon with every suave look who offers.

It isn't very often that Husker reminisces his past life - He knows, if he does, he will remember all of the good times, when his heart was gold and trembling with pure emotion - After all, if he recalls the time he was alive, and very much in love, his frozen heart will just shatter to dust once again, with the same infinite anguish he felt once everything was ripped away from his grasp.

A pain so intolerable, that runs so deep - A pain that no amount of alcohol can mend.

He never truly knows whether he wants to remain asleep forever, so that he will never have to face reality again, or if that would be a nightmare, tormenting him for the remaining abyss of eternity...

Or, perhaps he should stay awake, so that memories will stop toppling him over, beginning with a most beautiful reverie, yet always ending with the same night terror he must face every time.

If this is his way of paying for his irredeemable sins, then he is well aware he deserves it, and even more - Yet every smell reminds him of that sweet Chanel N°5 that she used to wear. Every time he closes his eyes, he dreams of the gracious dances he would share with her. Every song he hears, he recalls that angelic voice of hers, and every time he lays abed and stares up at the ceiling, her seraphic visage flashes before him.

"You are drinking again." Angel slumped in one of the stools by the bar, noticing his best friend looking in a far worse state than usual. "Rough day?"

"Rough life." Husk rasped, chugging down a whole bottle of strong spirits.

"Wanna talk about it?" he tried, in vain, to appear sympathetic - The feline demon was far too gone into his own darkness to even think about slurring away his never-ending sorrows.

"I wanna die, that's what I want." he growled, slamming away the bottle into the nearest wall. "Just like this fucking bottle. That's what I fuckin' wanna do - I wanna die, damn it!"

Angel's eyes widened greatly - Yes, life in hell surely was crazy, and especially for demons like the two of them, who sold their souls away because of their own failures, both in life, and now, in hell - But what in the world could it have caused him to get so hopeless that he was unable to fight back the tears glistening in those tortured eyes?

Even someone like him couldn't dare to make light of the situation, or try and crack a joke, let alone taunt or flirt with him. He felt... Pity, for the poor bartender who always listens to others' woes, yet dares naught speak out his own problems.

"Listen... Husk, ergh... I'm not the best at comforting, okay? But... If I can help, you can tell me... And, if not, then... I'll still be here. And maybe try to keep the others away from you. How's that?" Husk didn't quite seem to compute what his friend said, though he robotically nodded his head, as if remote controlled.

Angel remained in that stool for a few hours, watching the winged demon drink bottle after bottle after bottle, yet his sorrows only washed over him tenfold with each shattered glass against a different wall. He wonders what is going through Husk's mind, what he's ruining himself over with each sigh o grip on his fur.

Who would have thought that, of all things possible, Husker's greatest lament was...

"I fucking hate red. Why the fuck are my wings red? Of all the fucking colours in hell, they just had to be red, yeah?" he stammered angrily, pulling at his feathers. "Y'know what? They can't change colour. Tried dyeing 'em, but nothin'. Got so much fuckin' red on me - I wonder if it's Hell's way of punishin' me forever for my fucking sins."

He hates red...? What an odd statement - He truly seems to have a personal vendetta against that colour - But why? It's just a colour, after all, it can do no wrong. "Why... Do you hate red so much...? Angeldust dared to ask.

At first, he was met with a low growl, hostile, yet inoffensive at its core. Then, he heard a most disturbing answer. "That was the colour of my wife's dress when I last went home." Angel's brain shut down completely. To think someone was trusting him with such a vulnerable piece of himself, the very core of their hopelessness, their weakness; In a way, he felt flattered that Husk trusted him so much, yet in another way... He couldn't help but feel borderless pity for his friend. He wishes such a fate to no one... Well, maybe to Valentino.

Angel forced himself to smile softly, placing his hand gingerly over his own, taking away the alcohol from his hand. "What was her name?" Husk looked up with shock, a little startled, right into his dual coloured eyes - He hasn't ever spoken her name out loud, it almost felt like a blasphemy against her purity. Yet... Maybe... "Y/N." he dared whisper.

"Y/N." Angel repeated after him. "A beautiful name for a beautiful lady." Husk nodded his head.

"She was a Princess." he muttered, his sight blurry with tears.

"A Princess? Really? Nobility and all that?" much to his surprise, Husker chuckled.

"Nah, not quite." he rasped. "At heart, she was. Her family was very rich, so she was pampered up. Huge manor, servants, a personal maid, luxury brands, jewellery and perfumes, indulging in any studies and hobbies she liked..."

"How'd you two meet? I don't suppose you were a Prince or something, were you?" Angel tried to joke friendly, encouraging his friend to open up.

"Ha. Far from it." in his hand, a few dices appeared, and he idly played around with them. "I was an ugly dead beat from a working class broken family. Hardly worthy of her attention." he gritted his teeth bitterly. "Got around to finding work at a young age - Gambling, magic, sax player - If I had money to live, anything worked."

"Did you meet at one of your gigs?" Husk nodded his head affirmatively.

"No clue what she saw in me, Angel. She could do so much better." for a split second, he had a dry smirk on his face, before it disappeared again. "I asked her once, what the hell did she see in me - And she said... I played her favourite song. Silly, innit?"

He didn't receive a mocking laugh, much to his surprise - Instead, Angel cooed. He never imagined the jaded demon before him could be so romantic! "What did you play?" Instead of answering, Husk turned around to his bar, and took out another bottle, yet this time, he hummed a familiar tune as he was doing his bartending for two glasses. "Oh, now I get it - You always hum that song when no one's around! I thought you were just bored out of your mind." he let out an amused exhale. "Fly me to the moon... Refined tastes, alright."

"The stars in the sky never sparkles as brightly as those in her eyes when she looked at me." no wonder he never accepted any flirting from anyone - How could anyone match the love he had for Y/N? "If I were a decent man, I'd have told her not to waste her precious time and love on me. Instead, I was a selfish fuck. I stole years of her life... And in the end, I even stole her life. All because I wasn't even half the fucking man I pretended to be."

The conversation soon turned significantly sour. "I was the man - I was supposed to provide for her. Afford all that fucking expensive Chanel N°5, and the Dior dresses, the Chantelle lingerie, and the damn Cartier and Tiffany's jewellery." even someone more modern like Angel knew all those luxury brands, and was even more impressed and shocked that they could so easily afford such high-end items. "I brought her flowers every day and I took her out on brunches every morning, on dates every afternoon, and to soirees every fucking evening. She loved dancing at parties... But I suppose she preferred the moonlight over the chandeliers."

"You must have overworked yourself a bunch to afford all these things. I'm sure she appreciated it." Angel tried to comfort him, earning a nod of agreement.

"She told me she didn't need any gift, except for my presence. Genuine woman, that one. But how could I, in good conscience, go to her parents and ask for her hand in marriage, when I couldn't even afford a half-decent house with a room for each of her hobbies, a drawer for each month outfit, another for her shoes and three more for her bags, jewels and perfumes; and a large flower garden and a fucking rose gazebo and a swan pond with ten different breeds of pedigree dogs." Angel cringed a little, realising the tremendous gap between their living conditions. "I lost myself on the way to greatness. She was making me so euphoric that I just wanted to see her excited every moment of her life. I didn't need to eat or drink, I just needed to see her smile, and I could work again a few more days without rest."

"But then... You collapsed from overworking?" Husker shook his head.

"Worse. I fooled her parents completely, and we planned our wedding." he replied bitterly.

"How is that a bad thing? Isn't the wedding day the happiest day in a couple's life?" Husk sighed, from the deepest part of his soul.

"It was." he said. "I got greedy. I went to loan sharks, took a shit ton of money to make that wedding the most grand event the country saw in a while. Then went on a month-old honey moon around the world." he cursed in a few different languages that Angel couldn't understand, but was sure were some highly offensive and crude words that he would never utter around Y/N. "I don't need to say more, do I?"

Yeah, he needn't continue speaking the descent into madness, alright. Angeldust didn't want to hear that his friend's love story ended up in his soulmate getting murderer by the loan sharks, only for him to end up killing them, and then himself, out of pure rage and sorrow. He didn't want to hear that an innocent woman like Y/N never knew that her husband was broke and took loans, just to try and mimic the lavish lifestyle she grew up with and deserved. He didn't want to hear the broken shriek of anguish, or the streaming river of tears that befell as Husker saw her dead, on the floor, her pearly pink dress dyed a deep crimson from her own blood, and getting even more stained with each strong embrace he held around her shattered body, just like a precious porcelain doll fallen off the shelf.

They only just recently became something akin to 'best friends' from both sides... Yet Angel couldn't bare to hear the tragic end of the story, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he felt, having to live his afterlife as a Sinner, for as long as he has, without the woman he loves by his side.

"It's better this way, I guess. At least she finally got rid of me. Wherever she is, she must be living far better, than with a lying fuck like me who couldn't keep it together." the spider demon frowned, watching his friend slump on the bar counter.

"I don't think that's the case." he spoke vehemently. "I don't believe there is any person, of any kind, treasuring her as much as you did." Husk's ears perked up immediately, twitching lightly. "At least on an emotional way, I'd say, you and Y/N were lucky. There's so many people who never experience the love you had, let alone get to meet and marry their soulmate."

"What the fuck would you know?!" he growled, throwing a bottle at his head, only for the demon to dodge.

"... I wish I had fallen in love too, you know?" Husk gritted his teeth, realising the sensitive wound that he unwillingly stabbed open - But it wasn't his foult - He is hurt! He is in pain! "As a human, as a demon... I was like you, sort of. I was so shit at managing my life, that I ended up falling prey to my vices... I needed more and more, and I couldn't resist. I had no ration or logic. I gave in to my so-called 'friend group' and got addicted to drugs... Couldn't get rid of that addiction even after death... And I clinged on the only demon who could give me what I wanted... And now, I can't escape Val, even if I wanted to turn my life around and live the life that I never could." Angel had a wry smile on his face. "Do you really think a drug addict or the most famous porn star of hell would be able to meet his soulmate, without destroying their life in the process also?"

The two remained silent, only hanging their head and sighing. No matter how happy life can be for some... It will never have a chance of turning around for them. It just couldn't be. They are in hell, after all. Even Charlie won't be able to save them and bring them on the path of redemption, no matter how insanely enthusiastic and cheerful she can be... They were still sure to drown.

Somehow, this few hours of vulnerability brought Husk and Angel closer, and although they won't be speaking about it again, it was clear to the residents of the Hazbin Hotel that the two were as close as two demons can get, without the inclusion of vice or extortion.

Things were going well enough for them, even with the new addition of Sir Pentious, the villain turned... Something? It was still not too bad around the hotel. Though unsure of whatever Charlie's plan was, to fight against the purge from the Angels, they were still there to sort-of support whatever dream the Princess of the Pride Circle has.

That is, until the Hotel opened its doors to a brand new resident, a gorgeous demoness dressed elegantly in a dress of pearly pink, adorned with high quality jewellery, and with her long hair done stylishly, and smelling like a fresh day of Spring. She walked in guided by the Radio Demon, of all people, and she was smiling so demurely, completely unafraid of the fiend next to her, yet still reserved and soft.

"No way, is that Chanel N°5?! How'd you get it in here?!" Angel squealed, fangirling over the flowery perfume - But then, it clicked for him. Didn't Husker mention his wife loving this scent the most?

"Oh, you noticed! I am so happy that there are more sensible people - Erh - Demons with refined tastes!" the girl unfolded her laced fan and giggled behind it demurely.

Although she looked even more regal than even the Princess of Hell herself, as they stood next to each other, there was one particular detail that made the new-comer stand out from any other netizen.

With her hands clasped together over her chest, a bright white gold ring, with a most brilliant zircon was shining brighter than even the moon herself.

Whilst the other demons gathered around the seraphic beauty, wanting to have her attention, and even going as far as to have Alastor speak out about this new lady, Husker's breath stopped completely; His brain was going into overdrive, and his heart, he wanted to rip out of his chest.

That ring... That ring, he knew all to well - After all, he bought it himself, when he proposed to Y/N. That voice, the fashion, the mannerism... Even with altered looks, she looked the same. Even in hell, she looked the same. Even with demonic eyes, she looked the same.

She was the most beautiful woman in the universe.

"Y/N, this is Husker, our bartender." Charlie's face was split open by her overly-cheerful grin. "Husk, won't you introduce yourself to Y/N?"

"I'm not a fucking child. I don't need to introduce myself." the man hissed aggressively. "This is fucking stupid, I'm out." without even realising, he shattered the glass in his grasp, before stomping away into his room.

How could that be? Was this a nightmare? Surely, this must be some impersonator demon or something - There's no way an innocent being like Y/N could possibly have ended up in Hell, with a bunch of Sinners, of all thing. Was this his fault also? Did he bring her down with him to hell? Was he never going to be forgiven for all of the shit he's done in his previous life? Did Alastor bring her to the Hotel, so that he could blackmail him even more? Was his empty soul worth so little, in the end?

He was so afraid - Will Y/N be angry once she realises who he is? He couldn't blame her, obviously, he's earned her scorn... Yet why is his heart hurting so bad? He wishes so badly to jump on her and wrap her in his arms and wrings, and never again let her go. Ah, but he looks like a stupid flying cat... He looks ridiculous. There's no way...

...

Perhaps... She should stay with Al...

He has the influence, the money, the fashion sense, the looks, the freedom and privilege, the elegance...

Alastor has everything, and embodies everything that he could never be.

In life, he was selfish, and he didn't let go of her. Perhaps, the only way to apologise and make up for his sins was to let her be cherished by a man capable of doing what he never could.

As he lay awake on the bed, curled up and cursing his whole existence, wanting to sob until his body was all dried up and shriek until his throat was bleeding raw; he wanted to claw his face to velvety ribbons and drown his lungs with all of his blood... As he was succumbing to his self-hatred and spiraling down into the depths of despair, Y/N decided to end the day with some delicious pastries and an aromatic cup of tea in the garden, with her friend, Alastor.

Y/N was idly playing with her ring, looking at the inscription inside of it. 'Y/N ♡ Husker'. How absolutely adorable, she thought, a beautiful smile gracing her features. "He looks... Different. Are you sure it is the same person, Alastor?" her voice showed nervousness.

"Y/N, Y/N, would I lie to you?" he grinned, as always, sipping from his tea. "You should hear him purr. He truly resembles a little kitten."

Y/N looked up into he friend's eyes, a look of intense surprise and borderline intrigue taking over. "Are you being truthful? He... Purrs?" she gasped, quickly slipping her ring back on her finger.

"Yes, my darling. Unconsciously, someone strokes his fur, he gets so very adorable~." Alastor hums, watching the lady before him being so romantically melancholic over a life long gone. "What did you think about today's meeting?"

Y/N sighed, looking up into the sky. "I feel guilty for enjoying the moment I ripped Velvette apart, yet I feel no remorse for killing her. Such an uncouth and vulgar person has no right to behave with such disrespect towards me." Alastor's grin widened significantly. "And... I cannot wait for the next purge. I want to burn Heaven to cinders. Those hypocrites have grown far too arrogant for their own good, and I believe they need to be taught a harsh lesson."

"I see we are on the same wavelength as always, my dear." the demon sipped from his tea. "I am quite glad those arrogant hypocrites turned you away, for such a silly thing like - Vanity - They say. Beautiful women should be allowed to feel that-a-way, not ostracised for being such jewels for one's eyes." ever the charmer with poison dripping from his tongue. "Before I turn in for the evening, I have a gift for you - For friendship's sake." Y/N rose a suspicious eyebrow, watching as he took out a carefully folded picture from his blazer's pocket, and handing it to her. "I am going for a new fitting with Rosie tomorrow, should you wish to join us for a lovely day of self-care." the girl smiled, nodding her head at him in appreciation. "Have a pleasant evening."

Y/N muttered her pleasantries, and waited for Alastor to leave her sight, before unfolding the picture and bursting to tears. She cradled the precious memory to her heart, and sobbed for as long as her heart needed.

What have they done so wrong to deserve this? They were so happy while alive, so what went wrong? Was her opulent life, the reason for their downfall? Did her beloved think she wouldn't love him, if he couldn't match her family's wealth? Were all soulmates made to be torn apart while at their most blissful?

Still, she was grateful that she wasn't accepted into Heaven, for she would have had a most awful afterlife, as opposed to the many Overlord friends she made since she's been sent to Hell after her gruesome death, and the many favours she received from the Lords and Royals who went to Earth to retrieve items of importance for her.

Drying her tears, Y/N walked back inside the hotel, ready to turn in for the night, only to stop in her tracks as soon as she heard a soft sob, followed by a few very familiar curses in a variety of languages that she knew all too well. Her heart clenched as she stepped cautiously towards the foreign room, eavesdropping for any other sound, only to be met with more muffled cries.

Biting her lip, the demoness knocked on the door, only to be cursed harshly and told to fuck off. Y/N gulped, feeling taken aback by being talked in such a way - Though she immediately composed herself, reminding herself that he, too, is hurting, most likely far more than she is.

She excused herself before opening the door and entering. "What fucking part of 'FUCK OFF' don't you FUCKING UNDERSTA---" Husk was livid, getting in a sitting position as he growled with incredible hostility at the one who dared barge in his bedroom so rudely, only to remain speechless as he realised it was the demoness herself, standing with a sympathetic smile on her face. She also seemed to have been crying prior to this. "Oh. It is you." he cleared his throat, getting back on the bed, unable to face her.

"I have missed you dearly." her voice was so soft, so beautiful, so endearing... "I... Cannot believe that I am seeing you again. It seems to me that, no matter how far apart, our souls will forever traverse oceans of time and space, just to embrace each other once more."

She could hear him sniffling, his nails digging deep into the blanket. "You have always been so romantic and poetic." he grumbled, hiding his face in the pillow. "You shouldn't be here."

"You will have to be more specific, my love." she hummed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "Here - In Hell? Or here - In your room? Either way, I would say, I am right where I need to be."

"I don't understand." as if burning with frustration, Husk shot up, looking with self-hatred at the girl. "You did nothing wrong your entire life. You were nothing but a living sunshine. A fucking flower in human form. What the fuck did those angels not agree with, that they cast you to this shit hole?"

"There was a time when you would beat up any man who would curse in my presence." Y/N's adorable giggle made the demon's face flush red. "I am sorry that you are suffering so much, at my expense. I could never repay you for everything you have done for me, while we were alive."

"What the hell are you apologising for anyway? I got you killed, not the other way around - And even if it were that way, it'd've been a blessing in disguise, getting rid of a dead beat worthless fuck like me." he huffed, looking away. "You always were too good for me." the demon had so much to say, so many regrets to yell, so much love to spill... Alas, he remained quiet. "You seemed happy with Al. I wish I could be that, while we were alive." his voice went to soft, it was barely audible. "You should... Stay with him."

"Yes, I am happy being friends with Alastor. He was the one who introduced me to Rosie and Carmilla and Zestial, and I cherish them all dearly, as my like-minded friends." Y/N spoke calmly, reaching her hand to cup her lover's soft cheek. "He also was the one to tell me of your misdemeanours. How you succumbed to your vices; to gambling and alcohol, to the the point that you lost your soul in a deal with him. How pitiful." he was so confused as to where she was trying to get with her words, yet in spite of the anticipation for blames and reproaches, he couldn't help but lean into her warm and gentle touch. "He is the one who helped me become an Overlord, and I took your place. And it is Alastor, and some other friends of mine, who helped retrieve some objects I thought long lost."

"... You still smell like Chanel N°5." his comment made the girl giggle again.

"One of my friends had his little imps go to the human world and rob an entire Chanel store, to bring me all Chanel N°5 perfume bottles." how incredulous, Husk thought, staring at the girl flabbergast, speaking of a clear crime, committed in her name. And then, he started laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of her statement.

"Angel would kill to have a whole room of Chanel N°5." he said, his eyes softening as he put his hand over hers. "Y/N... Knowing that you are doing fine... That you aren't suffering... Or anything that I put you through... It makes me... Content."

"My darling." Y/N called out. "Do you remember the day of our wedding?"

"Of course I do. What's that question?"

With a cheeky grin, she took out the picture from her purse, handing it to her beloved. "Alastor was able to find this. His connections truly are amazing." Husk's eyes were wet with falling tears, and his lips were trembling. "I forgot I had pink roses braided in my hair. I was so busy looking at my handsome husband, that everything around me vanished." Husk's sobbing got even louder. "I wanted to frame this picture first, but I couldn't resist showing it to you first."

"Get out, Y/N! Get out!" his voice was broken and raw, so pained that even her heart shattered. "I am not the man you fell in love with. Why do you think my name is 'Husk'? I am just that - A husk of the man I never was. I am not worth anything. I don't amount to anything. I just gamble money I don't have and drink booze until I pass out. I don't deserve a second chance, and I certainly don't deserve you. I never did. I got you killed, damn it!"

"You think too much, you fool." Y/N cupped his face, bringing him into a gentle kiss - A kiss so loving that it numbed his pain, and hightened his senses, that got his heart pumping again and his lungs screaming for air. "I fell in love with you for good reason, and I intend to remain by your side, loving you." she smiled, wiping his tears with her thumb. "You can try as much as you wish to drive me away, but it will not work. You may succeed in convincing yourself that you are a lesser man, but you cannot do that with me. I know the man before me, and I know I will never leave you."

"Y/N..." the man sniffled, burying his face in her bosom, holding so tightly onto her petite body that he almost feared breaking her.

"There was once a time when you would only call me 'Sweety'." her honeyed giggle sounded so teasing, yet it didn't embarrass him. It served only to make him chuckle.

"There was also a time when I would only call you 'Chanel', if you recall." it almost felt as though they were both alive, and during their honey moon, without a single care in the world, and living a most carefree life.

"That does bring back some very amusing memories." Husk hummed in agreement, feeling melancholic, despite the intense joy surging through his body. Perhaps it was due to the unfamiliarity of this positive feeling, that he felt exhausted, or maybe from his excessive crying and whining. Regardless, he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his wife's arms, and never leave this blasted room ever again.

"Can you promise me something?" the man asked. "I am selfish still - Even more so as a demon. I am nothing but filth. I didn't deserve you then, and I deserve you even less now. Still... Now that you're here... I can't let you go again. So..."

Though he found himself eating his words, Y/N only smiled, laying down on the bed and taking him down with her, nestling him comfortably into her loving embrace. "Alastor said you purr like a kitten. I would love to hear that, tonight." she hummed, hearing his annoyed snarl. "And every night going forward, for as long as we may live in this afterlife we have." Husk's body became stiff, frozen with shock. "That is what you wanted me to promise, isn't it? That I will never leave you." he didn't respond. "It is within our wedding vows, silly. There is no way I would walk away, after I have just found my soulmate."

"... Even though I look like... This? And I am irredeemably addicted to gambling and drinking, even more so than before... And I have lost my soul to the Radio Demon? I am stuck doing his bidding for eternity... And..." Y/N only hugged him closer.

"No matter what, in sickness and in death, you and I will still be soulbound." his small body was softly trembling with emotion. "I've got you, my darling. Worry not about anything. I have got you." she remained silent for a little while. "But, Husk..." her voice sounded so distant, so... Melancholic. "Do you... Still like me? The way you did before?"

Startled by her words, Husker jolted up, looking at the pitiful visage of his lover. "What... What do you mean...?"

"My skin is pure white, with no colour, except for my make up. My eyes are black where they should be white, and the worst carmine red, where they should be embodying the aspect of nature. Even my hair looks to be an abnormal colour, and no matter how much I try to dye it, it will not retain its original shade." she gulped, looking away from him. "Any shred of normalcy that I have... Is so tiresome, so much work to keep up, the princessy facade that I used to have, that I used to love... That you used to love..." she sighed softly. "Yet even that completely dissolves as soon as I transform in the monstrous form that I fight so hard to keep veiled from the world."

"Y/N." he caressed her soft face, only to notice small particles of powder latching onto his fur. "I'm a fucking furry mammal with wings. I look like a children's plush toy or somethin'. Meanwhile, you look as doll-like as always, and you're afraid I wouldn't like you anymore? How silly." he sighed, leaning to place a kiss on her forehead. For a few seconds, he stopped to ponder over a rather bold move, and in a split second, he retrieved a wooden box from under his bed. "This is my secret. Nobody has to know about this." he spoke, a rosy tint on his cheeks. "Open it."

Carefully, the girl did as instructed, revealing the content of the box. A bunch of letters were preserved there, all of them neatly placed and handwritten with black ink. "Husk..." Y/N felt the air in her lungs dissipating, as she realised all those letters were recreating the exchange of love words from their time alive. "H-How...?"

"I have all our letters memorised." he chuckled lightly. "I... Needed some way of keeping you close... Of remembering you. I am shit at drawing, but I have a good enough memory... So this was the only way of preserving what we had."

"It's been so long... And yet, you... You still remember... All of it? There must be tens, if not, hundreds of them... How...?" the girl was flabbergast, yet melting completely.

"I read them every night before sleep, when alive, and I read them every night now also." those precious teardrop diamonds caressing her cheeks falling down so gracefully.

𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈; 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒; 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

His usual raspy voice sounded so romantic as he recited the love poem he wrote to her. A voice that he only reserved for her. A voice that only she would ever know.

𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁; 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼'𝓂 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒; 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.

A love so pure and true, bottomless and without boundaries; Husker himself forgot just how endless his emotions could run. He thought himself jaded and cold, having lost his own heart, the second he lost her... Yet now... Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he first thought. Perhaps... Even someone like himself deserves some kind of redemption.

𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒.

Without her, he wasn't whole. Without her, he is not himself. Without her, he is empty. Without her, his whole life falls apart. Without her, he is nothing but a worthless deadbeat.

𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒢𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.

But now, he is not alone anymore - Well, perhaps he never was to begin with, considering he still had Angel and Charlie, to some extent, yet nothing can compare to sweet Y/N's existence by his side. Nothing can heal his aching soul, or revert the damage he did to himself throughout life and afterlife, the way her love for him did.

♡ ~𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼~♡

#hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husker #hazbin husker #husker x reader #husker imagine #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin hotel husker imagine #charlotte morningstar #hazbin vaggie #Hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine

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saerins · 2 years ago

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─── 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓

+ itoshi rin x f!reader | drabble | content: fluff, established relationship

notes: ahem don’t mind me just …. casually loving rin :’) inspired off this post i saw on tiktok !!

sometimes, you’re annoyed.

no, not by your boyfriend, although he refuses to cuddle you to sleep. but by his tendencies to set more than one alarm. you love rin, an abnormally large amount.

but his alarms will be the death of you.

“rin, i love you but your alarms are killing me.”

he stares at you from where he stands in the kitchen, an innocence you can only describe as adorable (but he’d kill you). today’s a saturday and it’s a lazy day in, with soccer training canceled due to the storm. but still, somehow, your boyfriend’s alarm still blared this morning. and usually you’re a heavy sleeper, but coupled with the thunder, you were unfortunately woken up at 5.30am.

rin’s making breakfast; ochazuke. using your recipe too because he likes it that way.

“i know you still exercise and all but do you really have to set two alarms?” because you have no problem ignoring that first one. that second one though, always gets to you.

rin only shrugs it off, putting his attention back on his food. “maybe i’ll set it softer next time.”

“or maybe just set one?” you try convincing him, sauntering over and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “it’s not like you have trouble waking up.”

because he really doesn’t. he hasn’t missed an alarm since you first got together with him over a year ago. rin’s one of the most punctual people you know. he really doesn’t need that extra alarm.

but you fail at convincing him, because apparently on monday morning (sundays are the only breaks from his alarm that you can get), at 5.25am, his first alarm blares, and if not for the fact that you’d watched a horror movie with him last night (which only spell nightmares for you—but then again, you can never refuse rin), you’d probably still be sound asleep.

today though, you’re woken up almost instantaneously, and you decide to stay quiet, like you’re asleep. just to see what your boyfriend does for that five minutes and why he needs another alarm.

you expect him to groan and fall back asleep, like maybe he needs five minutes to himself. but then you have to do your best not to freeze up when you realise that his arms fall around you, your boyfriend nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.

the realisation hits you like a gentle rain in the middle of summer. this is what rin’s doing for those five minutes before his actual alarm? he’s been hugging you everyday, right before he starts his day. he’s been hugging you every morning before he wakes up for real, before he leaves for training, before every mundane day.

you grin to yourself, feeling the warmth spread across your chest and your face. you think you love rin an abnormally large amount. but now you know that it’s the same for him as well.

“stop smiling to yourself, stupid,” rin mumbles, burrowing his face further into your neck, embarrassed now that you know what he’s been up to.

you giggle. “i love you, rin.”

“i love you, stupid.”

“lots and lots?”

“okay now shut up before i kick you off the bed.”

#bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #blue lock x reader #rin x you #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n #rin fluff #૪ aeri’s fics !

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hai7ani · 10 months ago

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divorced parents au / with your faves

When your daughter turned two, you and your husband had brought her to Disneyland as her birthday gift. Growing up, Umi was always fond of the 12 Disney Princesses ー more specifically Princess Belle ー and she keeps a photograph of her and Belle at a meet and greet on her nightstand. Her father's half-expected her favourite to be Ariel, given that Ariel and Umi do go pretty well together. (Ariel and the sea.)

In Disneyland that summer your baby has had the time of her life, so she starts asking for it every birthday (which slowly turned into every milestone) and up until then you both have had no issues with bringing her there. He'd told you once that if going there makes her happy then he was willing to visit again, no matter the amount of times and the slight boringness he'd have to face when waiting in line to go on rides or booths.

Today she had learned how to properly draw a flying bird in art class after failing a few times and drew flying chickens instead. When you picked her up from school, the first thing she said after showing you her art proudly was, 'Let's go to Disneyland, Mama! Let's go with Daddy!'

You would bring her if you could. You know you would in a heartbeat.

But it has been two years since her last visit to Disneyland, and you and your husband aren't together anymore.

So when he comes over for dinner tonight ー just like he has been every Friday without miss ever since your divorce ー you show him Umi's drawing of the flying bird.

"Can I bring this back with me? I'd like to frame it up." He asks. In his head he plans to hang it on the wall of his living room, right on top of his television, next to your family portrait.

You eat a piece of the orange he'd peeled. "Of course."

At noon when your daughter asked, you told her no. So at night she is tugging on her father's shirt with a red face full of tears and she is begging for him to stay.

"Stay here, daddy. Don't go." She cries to him at the foyer. Only one side of his shoe is put on and he kicks it away quick when she attempts to climb into his arms.

"You'll see me again on Sunday, Mimi." He attempts to console her. "We're gonna go to the mall together 'n we'll find the toy you've been wanting."

Her father scoops her into his arms and sits on the floor. She kicks her feet in the air and wails.

"But I want to go to Disneyland with you and Mama." She sobs into his arms. He pecks her crown and shushes her a little.

When your chest gets too heavy you push yourself off the wall you've been leaning against and turn your back to them.

(You've been watching the duo since the moment her father was putting on his shoe, ready to leave, and your daughter came running after him in her pyjamas with wet tears already streaming down her cheeks.)

And Umi continues to cry while her father rocks her in his arms, trying his best to console her.

While walking away from the scene, you pick on the skin around your thumb. Your nose sours and you try pinching it in hopes of soothing it a little.

"Why d'ya wanna go to Disneyland?" You hear him ask before you disappear into the hallway. It's funny how he still asks even though you and him both know that going or not going to Disneyland was never the problem.

Umi sniffles. Her father hums for her to say it.

You hide behind the door of your bedroom.

"I want Mama, Daddy and Umi together again."

Just the three of us together in Umi's favourite place.

You cry.

"She's asleep now."

You pause from folding laundry at the couch and look up. He's got both hands in his pockets and a soft smile planted on his face.

He's also a mess, you notice ー his shirt a little stretched and out of place from how hard your daughter had been tugging on it earlier, the fabric wet from tear and snot stains, his hair a bit disheveled (you figure he was resting beside her when putting her to sleep), and he's moving to sit beside you on the couch now.

You smile back. "Thank you. I haven't been able to calm her down easily these days."

He picks up one of the garments from the pile and starts folding it beside you. "It's fine. You know I like doing it." I like being a dad, is what he wishes to say. But he knows you know it already and he holds his tongue.

Neither of you say a thing to each other after that and he continues helping you with the laundry. He folds your bra the way you prefer and your daughter's school uniform neatly so that it doesn't crease.

You steal a few glances at him without shame while stacking his sweatpants onto his pile of clothes.

"Your hair's getting long." You comment.

"Is it?" He raises his brows, genuinely wanting to know.

"Yeah." You reach a hand up to comb through his soft strands of hair. You push them back and try parting it on the middle.

"I've been busy." He's got a boxy, kind of nervous smile on his face when he explains. "Can't really see well through the mirror anyway." He rubs his nape.

You chuckle. "Want me to cut it for you?"

"Okay."

You still keep a room for your ex-husband even after the end of your marriage and he's given you the house.

You like telling yourselves it's solely for the sake of your daughter, for when she misses her father a little too much and refuses to let him leave.

But both of you know that's not really the case.

Somehow it didn't feel right when he was in the process of moving out to his new apartment somewhere in Meguro, and you slowly realise that you'd be having an empty room all to yourself.

(Back then you didn't think you could cope with living alone in the house you used to love each other in ー in the house you'd both created a life in.

You still don't now. Not really, anyway.)

So you transform the room that used to be his study into his own bedroom just right across the master (yours). He didn't reject the idea when you told him so.

And because of this, you leave your bedroom door open whenever he stays the night.

Tonight you do it again, and you watch him across the hall, in his room, drying off his freshly cut hair. Your head is resting on the edge of the bed with one hand tucked under your cheek and the other playing with a plush toy he'd gifted you many years ago.

When he turns to hang his towel on the wall he sees you like this. You don't shy away when he smirks.

"Goodnight." You mouth to him. You stay like that until he leaves his door open and finally gets in bed ー until he, too, shuffles around, and dangles his head off the edge of his own bed.

"Goodnight." He mouths it back to you.

You spend some time looking at each other like that ー really taking your realities in ー in rooms across each other with heads dangling off the edge of your beds, two hearts connected by the sea, and your daughter asleep in the room next to yours.

On most nights he comes over sometime during the night and helps you back on your pillow when you accidentally fall asleep like this, and every time, you'd unconsciously tug on his arm and beg him not to go.

He stays every single time.

Tonight, however, he pads over to your room while you're still awake with a pillow clutched in one hand.

"Hi." You scoot on the bed to make space for him as he throws his pillow next to yours and lays down beside you ー face to face, heart to heart. "Hey." He sighs upon getting comfortable on the bed he'd grown to find so much comfort in.

You bring the blanket up to cover his shoulders. He scoots closer to you, sneaks a hand under your shirt, and rubs a warm hand up and down your spine. (You always sleep better when he rubs your back like this.)

And while falling asleep you think to yourself that perhaps someday you'll get to try again as lovers.

You know for a fact that you'll always love him in your heart, and you'll never stop loving him even though it doesn't really make sense anymore ー just like how he'd sworn to never love again after your divorce.

Perhaps someday the both of you would be ready to move on ー still loving each other, but ready to move on from your past, from your love.

And perhaps someday the two of you wouldn't have to argue about money or time anymore. Perhaps someday he'll find a suitable work-life balance, and you're able to trust him enough to keep himself safe at work.

But for now, he's content with rubbing your back as you fall asleep next to him in the bed you'd once shared. You're content with the flowers he still buys you from time to time and cutting his hair whenever it grows out.

For now, you know that you're not ready to move on just yet. Both of you are not, and both of you have something else in mind...

You want to try again.

And you know that trying again will not be easy, but you both also know that you're willing to start all over again with everything you have if given the chance, the opportunity.

Maybe someday.

Maybe you'll give it more time.

(You feel a nudge on your elbow.)

Or...

"Wanna go to Disneyland tomorrow?"

(You smile.)

"Yes."

...Maybe tomorrow?

(He reddens all over.)

"Okay."

You'll see.

(just some characters i have in mind) TOKYO REVENGERS RAN, RINDOU, KAKUCHO, DRAKEN, NAOTO JUJUTSU KAISEN GOJO, NANAMI BLUE LOCK SAE, RIN HAIKYUU KITA, OSAMU & your faves

(i have never been to disneyland before. 😹)

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simplyraeblue · 3 months ago

Text

hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in which y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, smut warning, fem reader

chapter warning/tags: swearing, p in v penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it y'all), use of "angel", sukuna is being sketchy, totally in love with choso, i think the choice is clear right A/N: sooooo slowly falling in love with choso, but things can't stay perfect forever right? (¬⤙¬ ) honestly I just really wanted to write more choso smut bc I'm addicted but like, wtf is up with sukuna now. ALSO someone asked how many chapters there will be, and as of right now I'm ending at 15! but if I get more ideas of the story doesn't feel wrapped up then I'll keep it going until it does.

index part eleven | part thirteen

part twelve word count : 2,146

your sleepover with Choso had not gone unnoticed by both Yuji and Sukuna. after finishing breakfast with Choso, you’d indulged in a long-awaited nap. when you woke up and found him still sound asleep, you thought it was the perfect time for a bathroom break. the only problem? Choso shared a bathroom with Sukuna.

as you quietly closed Choso’s bedroom door with a soft click, a throat cleared, startling you like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over your head. you slowly turned to see Sukuna standing in his doorway, a hand on the knob, his expression unreadable.

“you’re… still in your pajamas.” he murmured, his tone a strange blend of question and statement.

you weren’t sure why you felt anxious; after all, he’d been mia for god knows how long. as you tried to decipher his mood, you realized you were never good at picking up on his cues.

if you had been, you might have braced yourself for the sudden, loud slam of his fist against the wall.

“shhh!” you hissed, pressing a finger to your lips and silently hoping he hadn’t just woken Choso – let’s face it, the guy could probably sleep through anything.

“I think I might throw up.” Sukuna growled, storming toward the bathroom and slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the walls. you stood there, mouth agape, trying to process what had just happened.

fortunately, Choso remained asleep when you tiptoed back into his room. you decided it was a good idea to wait until he was awake before leaving his room again.

after that, Sukuna had literally vanished from the house.

two days later, he still hadn’t come home. two days later, and you hadn’t slept in Choso’s room again. two days later… and you were falling in love.

Choso had thrown himself into being attentive, practically anticipating your every need. want a snack? he was off the couch before you could even think about it. feet sore from a night out with Yuji? he’d whisk your shoes off and start rubbing your feet right away. it was like he was made for this; providing you with attention and care without missing a beat.

now, you lay on his bed while he played with your hair, one hand gently stroking your head and the other flipping through tv channels. you were practically purring with every soft caress, and he adored it.

“can I ask you something?” Choso suddenly said, his hand still massaging your scalp. you nodded lightly, keeping your eyes closed in bliss. “you haven’t stayed in my room since that night. is it because I did something wrong?”

your eyes flew open as you sat up, your expression softening at the sight of his blush. “oh, Choso, no – you didn’t do anything wrong. I just… thought it might be weird for everyone else if I stayed in here all the time.” and secretly you worried about what would happen if Sukuna saw you leaving again.

“who cares what they think?” Choso pouted, giving you those puppy-dog eyes while his hand relaxed on the back of his head. “do you want to sleep in here?”

you hesitated for a moment, your heart racing at the invitation. “I mean… I’d love to.” you replied, a small smile creeping onto your face. “but what if you get sick of me?”

Choso shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “like I could get sick of you. unless you drool on my pillow again, then yeah I might get a lil sick of you.”

you slapped his arm while your mouth dropped open. “it was the one time! we’d just pulled an all-nighter!” he threw his head back in laughter, the sound like music to your ears. “if I promise not to drool, do you want me to stay in here tonight?”

“tonight it is!” he said with a grin, relief evident in his face. he shifted to make space for you, and you settled in beside him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body.

as you lay there, the soft hum of the tv in the background as the two of you watched netflix, you found yourself stealing glances at Choso. his brows furrowed in concentration as he watched Bridgerton (you’d gotten him hooked), and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked.

if he had noticed you staring, he didn’t show it, but when he reached for your hand to intertwine your fingers you felt a thrill shoot through you. he hadn’t moved his eyes from the tv, although you could feel his body warm at the contact with yours. you leaned your head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat start to pick up.

“are you getting comfortable?” Choso asked as his hand returned to stroke your hair, lulling you into a blissful state.

“mhm.” you purred as he gave light scratches to your scalp, tracing down your back softly. “but I want to watch Anthony confess to Kate, so I’m not falling asleep just yet.”

“the tension between them has been physically unbearable to watch all season.” Choso groaned and you chuckled at his enthusiasm. when he caught you laughing at him, he pinched your shoulder in retaliation. “I’m just saying, they both have been drooling over each other every episode!”

“you can’t blame them, it can be hard to confess your feelings to someone.” when you realized your words might seem like a jab at him, you quickly continued. “at least in their situation, he’s courting her sister.”

“at least you don’t have a sister I have to get through.” Choso smirked down at you, a teasing glimmer in his eyes. “even though it did take me too long to confess.”

the two of you had watched two more episodes, both commenting back and forth about the Bridgerton drama. everything felt right in your world – Choso was softly giving you affectionate touches, you’d gotten him addicted to rom-com tv, and you were blissfully happy.

“Choso?” you whispered, nuzzling into his shirt. he hummed in response as he set his chin on top of your hair. “how soon is too soon?”

his heartbeat picked up faster under your ear. if you’d been looking at him, you would’ve seen his cheeks flush pink immediately. “for what?” he asked.

it was all too easy to get him flustered, and the thrill of it drove you mad. your hand caressed his abdomen, traveling lower and lower, slowly aiming for his waistband. once your fingers danced along the edge of his sweatpants, you felt him tense.

“oh.” Choso breathed, body going rigid as you continued to dip your fingers just below the waistline. “I-I don’t think there’s such a thing as too soon.”

“hm, you don’t?” you teased lightly before lifting your chin to gaze up at him. sure enough, his face was hot and red as he stared back down at you. “do you wanna…”

“yes.” his answer came out as fast as lightning, before he grabbed your chin and pulled you up to kiss you. when his lips met yours, you immediately open your mouth to allow his tongue to spit-swap with yours. Choso groaned as your hand dipped fully underneath his pants to palm his growing erection under his boxers.

only seconds into teasingly rubbing him and he had flipped you over to land on top of you, grinding his clothed dick into your hips as he panted into your mouth. Choso’s hands worked their way up your top, pulling your bra down to rest underneath your tits and groping at them.

“fuck, I just can’t get enough of you.” Choso groaned as he dipped his head into your neck, lightly sucking on your skin as you arched your back to meet his rolling thrusts. “wan’ t’ make you feel good.”

within a mere minute, Choso removed all of your clothing as well as your own. you’d been too embarrassed to really look at his dick the first time, worried about your own image, but now – you felt warmth pooling between your legs at the sight. his bright pink tip leaked pre-cum already as he pumped himself with one hand, prepping himself before he settled between your legs.

Choso teased your puffy lips with his head, dragging his leaky cock over your clit tantalizingly as he leaned down to capture your already open mouth in his. as he deepened the kiss, driving his tongue inside you, his dick pressed further into you while just the tip has you moaning out his name.

“oh fuck, Cho, you – you’re so big.” you whined as your eyes rolled back, expanding for him as he ventures deeper inside of you.

just those words have Choso bottoming out with a quick thrust, his balls slapping against your ass just as you feel his tip kiss your cervix. “ohhhh shit, angel.” his hips thrust again, giving you every inch. “feel s’ fucking good.”

your mind was already a puddle of mush as he drove into you, every pull and push of his cock driving you to madness. when Choso's hand flattens over your lower abdomen, pushing down slightly, you feel your walls tighten where he was pressing to accentuate every bit of his veiny length.

Choso fingers moved to press against your clit, making small and absolutely maddening circles that made you whimper. his fingers applied more pressure, eliciting a loud moan of his name from your lips and causing your legs to clench around his hips. his pace picked up faster and faster, until he was gasping for air while he watched you blissed out below him, the sight almost sending him over the edge immediately.

“yes – hah – please right there.” you’re drooling already, your fingers weaving through Choso’s hair as his eyes fall shut with pleasure. his bicep twitches next to your head, fist gripping the sheets as he uses every ounce of his strength to fuck you just right and rub your clit at the same time. you can feel the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter, so close to snapping. as your cunt clenches and flutters around him, Choso’s struggles to plow through your tightening walls with his thrusts.

“that’s it, angel, just like that.” Choso babbles through the pleasure coursing within him, and when you drive your hips to meet his every thrust he just about loses it. “fuck – wait wait – slow down I’m –“

before he can finish his sentence, your orgasm rips through you, electricity thrumming down your veins. your back arches so deeply into the mattress as your pussy contracts around his cock. you’re too high to even form the words to tell him you’re coming, but based on how Choso starts rutting into you, he can feel it.

“ohh – fuck – please. you’re so fuckin’ tight I’m gonna cum.” Choso whines, eyes scrunching shut as his hips become sporadic in his attempt to find his last bit of strength to work you through your orgasm.

you’ve barely begun to come down before he’s bottoming out, his dick pulsing before shooting your pussy full with streaks of thick cum. you can hear the lewd squelches coming from your cunt as he lazily fucks into you through his orgasm, stuffing you to the brim with every ounce of his seed.

“shit Choso.” you moan as his forehead settles on yours, sweat slick on both of them. you panted as you looked at him, his eyes fucked out as he settled slowly from his release.

“wanna hear something really stupid?” Choso whispered softly, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“wh-what?” you stammered, your heart racing.

he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m beginning to think I’m addicted to you.” he confessed, a shy smile spreading across his face.

you felt a flutter in your chest, caught off guard. “addicted?” you echoed, a mix of surprise and amusement flooding through you.

“yeah.” he said, his voice low and raspy. “I can’t help it. you’re just… so fucking perfect.” his fingers brushed against yours, sending shivers down your spine.

“so, you’re not going to get sick of me then?” you teased, and Choso swore that as your laughter followed he could feel your pussy walls flutter around his softening cock.

“don’t get cocky just yet, angel.” Choso hummed in amusement before dipping his fingers between your bodies. “that’s still yet to be seen.”

as you were giggling, your breath suddenly hitched when Choso fingers pinched your sensitive clit. your eyes sparked as you looked at him, a wicked smirk spread across his lips when he began to rub circles around the nub. with one more pinch, he leaned his face down to whisper in your ear.

“might just have to keep testing it.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist: @nighttwingg @sweetsformysoul @casualpoetrytaco @lvingd3adg0rl @haikomaiko @csolya @deathlypink @sad-darksoul @elisedylandy @jinxiewritings @aldebrana @ravester @futuristiccurlyhair @san-it-is-i-guess @marie-is-in-the-dark @llovergirlll @iseeyouuu @makingtimemine @spicykimchii I hope I got everyone, and I hope the tagging worked for all of you! thank you so much for liking this enough to be tagged, it means the world to me! xoxo that fact that nineteen people have asked to be tagged for this makes me sob tears of thanks .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. if you'd like to be added to the taglist let me know! ♡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

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