#i can take any prompt and shove angst into it just watch me

[drysaladandketchup]

for the "things you said" writing meme -- matthew/leon, 12 :)

Thank you for the request <3 I realised very quickly I have no idea what constitutes a 'mini' fic. I struggle to write 'mini' anything lol. Hopefully this still satisfies :)

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

It takes all of Matthew's willpower not to reach over and smash his phone just to shut off the alarm. All that saves his wallet and an awkward trip to the Apple store is the split-second realisation that the shrieking in his ear isn't his usual alarm.

It's a ringtone. Not his own, either.

He pries his eyes open to find the world through the window is still dark. One of the balcony doors is still ajar, letting in a cool night breeze. He's lying on his side in his own bed, the end of the all-star weekend memorialized by several aches and bruises.

His hips and ass are a little sore too, but that's unrelated. Technically.

The ringing stops. Someone huffs behind him.

Someone. Yeah, no, Matthew knows who it is. They may have met up at the bar once the media was done swarming, but Matthew was far from drunk. Painfully sober, in fact. If he's being honest with himself, he was hoping things would turn out this way.

One more time. One more moment. Because it's been a long time since they were them. Longer still since the sex was just sex, since hate became want. Matthew is strong in a lot of ways, but not against this.

"Davo." Leon's voice is low, and still gruff from sleep when he answers his phone. He sits up on his side of the bed, trying not to disturb Matthew, pulling the covers back up over Matthew's shoulder like he thinks he'll freeze to death in this balmy Florida winter.

Usually Matthew's a heavy sleeper. But never when Leon's around. He makes it impossible for Matthew to completely relax, to let time slip by. Leon's just too big of a presence, almost too much to bear. It was more important that everything linger, to bask in the strange comfort of their relationship, whatever it was. They had so little time. Even less, now.

"I know it's late. No, no, I'm not at the hotel. I'm... I'm with Tkachuk."

Leon says his last name like it's wrong, like it's rotting on his tongue.

When he corrects himself, says, "Matthew", it's better, lighter. Like it's ambrosia.

Matthew remembers when Leon Draisaitl saying his name wouldn't have meant a damn thing to him. When that simple act didn't fill him with fondness.

In the silence, Matthew can hear McDavid talking on the other end, but can't quite make out what he's saying. Matthew tucks up under the duvet, breathing quiet and even, trying to focus instead on the distant sound of waves and the ticking clock on his wall.

Ticking. Always ticking. Time bleeds out when they're together.

He doesn't even remember falling asleep last night, but he wishes he hadn't now. He wishes he'd stayed awake longer, just to... just to see him. To look Leon in the eye, to talk about everything and nothing until dawn, to feel big, too-warm hands on his body more and more and more. He wants to make sure he'll remember how Leon feels, sounds, tastes.

"Connor," Leon says, a warning, followed by a sigh. "I know. I know, okay? It was stupid, but..."

Maybe it was. Matthew has a good thing here in Florida. Better than ever. He was happy to leave Alberta behind and start over. So why did leaving make him feel like a coward?

Because leaving was about Calgary, and the Flames. About his career and his future. It wasn't about Leon. Leon was the wrench in the gears; the one thing he didn't expect to have to say goodbye to, the kind of hurt he never could have accounted for.

"I needed to see him." Leon sounds helpless. He's not the only one.

The only time he's heard Leon so lost was after his team was knocked out of the playoffs last season. The Oilers meant nothing--Matthew was pretty fucking glad considering they'd beat out the Flames--but he never wanted to hear Leon like that again.

He definitely never wanted to be the cause of it. Not like this.

Leon is still mumbling into his phone. "Yeah, I'm fine. He's... we're good. He's happy."

A hand settles on Matthew's head. Fingers play with his curls, nails scratch his scalp. A thumb presses just behind Matthew's ear, stroking the soft skin where only hours before Leon had put his lips, whispering sweetness and filth in equal measure.

It takes everything for Matthew not to groan, to whimper and surrender, roll over and climb on top of Leon and take all over again. Beg him to take something--everything--from Matthew.

"I don't know," Leon says then.

It's easy to guess what McDavid asked.

He's happy. But are you?

"I can't even tell him I still love him."

Still. Matthew didn't even know there was a before, let alone a still. Leon never said anything. Fuck, if Matthew wasn't busy trying to remember how to breathe, he'd roll over and punch him.

Then again, what did Matthew ever say? They never talked about it. Never let those closet hook-ups and slipping out back doors and little drinks and dinners and overnights excused as practical necessity be anything more than that. A bunch of chirps and half-truths and aborted discussions because it was all becoming too much. There was too much uncertainty. Too many ways it could go wrong.

It did go wrong. It became something. It became real.

Maybe that would have changed something. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything at all. It doesn't matter now. Matthew left, and neither of them said a word about things like love, because it was easier to hope it would shrivel and die with distance and time.

"I know I'm being stupid." Leon pauses when McDavid interrupts, then huffs. "No, I am. Fuck, I really thought I'd get over it. Maybe I will. Eventually."

Don't you fucking dare, you piece of shit, Matthew wants to scream.

"Not sure I can, though." Leon swallows so loud Matthew can hear it. Then quieter, like he's not sure he's even allowed to admit it, he says, "I don't really want to."

He's still playing with Matthew's hair, occasionally dragging a finger over his bare shoulder or down his back, tracing imaginary lines across Matthew's flesh. Like he's something to be memorized and cherished.

They're both so fucking stupid. Matthew bites his lip and tries not to choke on the lump in his throat. Could be his heart, climbing right up and out of his mouth. He clings to the sheets with shaking hands.

"I'm not going to fuck up what he's got here," Leon says tiredly, voice thick with tension and pathetic resignation.

Leon's not here to drag him back. He wouldn't do that. So why is he here? Just to torture them both? Being with him doesn't feel like torture. It feels like winning. It feels like defiance and decadence and too much and not enough. It feels like what could have been and what could still be.

He didn't find Leon at that bar and bring him home out of pity, or nostalgia, one last fuck for old times sake. It was... it just was. Not an ending. Not some final goodbye. Proof maybe there could still be something. Getting over it was never an option, Matthew knew that well before he stepped onto the ice as a Panther and found himself staring Leon down all over again.

Matthew's vision is blurring. His eyes sting, warm and wet. There's blood pounding in his ears, and a hand clutching his heart, a vice around his lungs. He hardly remembers how to breathe.

He doesn't catch the rest of Leon's conversation, except something about meeting Connor back at the hotel tomorrow. Meaning he's staying the night, at least. He's staying.

When Leon hangs up the phone, Matthew finally comes up for air. He relaxes his shoulders, listening to the soft thump as Leon taps his phone against his forehead over and over. Then it clatters on the side table. Leon sighs, sniffs, and sinks back under the covers. He tucks right up against Matthew's back, still burning like a furnace, soft muscle and skin brushing Matthew's spine in all the right ways.

He throws an arm around Matthew and finds one of his hands, worming his fingers through the gaps to hold it. His palm is sweaty, not that it matters at all to Matthew. He can't help squeezing Leon's hand a little, but if Leon notices, he doesn't say a word.

Not until he's wrapped tight around Matthew, near suffocating, like any part of them that isn't touching is a sin.

"Love you," Leon mumbles, barely more than a whisper, pressing his lips right to the base of Matthew's neck. Matthew's body can't seem to decide whether to shiver or melt under the heat.

Leon says it like it's inevitable. Painful. Pitiful.

What he's saying is, I'm sorry I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't say it before. I'm sorry I don't know how to say it now. I'm sorry it's too late, it's the wrong place, the wrong time.

Like he doesn't think Matthew could ever understand. And that's the worst part of it all. They're still not on the same page. Tearing down what they never built.

If Leon's only brave enough to say it when Matthew's asleep, then Matthew will just have to be brave enough to say it in the light of day. He doesn't run, and he won't now that he knows he doesn't have to.

He stares into the night outside his window, listening to Leon breathe, feeling his heart beat through Matthew's chest like that's where it longs to be.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow maybe they can stop chasing time long enough to make the most of what they have. To make up for what they've wasted. And whatever happens after, well, maybe they can stop being afraid of that, too.

[minisugakoobies]

The Purrfect Crime | HJS

Pairing: Joshua x GNReader (no agab)

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, angst (tiny bit?), crack , non-idol!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: neighbor is implied to be a horrible pet owner but i promise there is no abuse here, catnapping, they're idiots and they're in love, so much pining, that trope where you have to kiss someone in order to fool someone else, apparently it's called a fake-out make-out thanks true tropes wiki, i don't even know where this sudden need to write a soft joshua came from but enjoy

Word Count: 3.2k

Disclaimers: SFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Fed up with the way your neighbor is keeping your friend/his ex's cat just to spite him, you hatch a plan to rescue the poor creature. Naturally, your best friend (and crush) Joshua is in for the mission.

Text Prompt: in italicized pink font in the story

A/N: It took me a while to find a text prompt for Joshua, but as soon as I saw this one, I knew it was his. Thank you to @minttangerines and @kiestrokes for taking a look at this one and reminding me that variety is good.

If you like this, please let me know! I’d love to hear what you think (but please be kind I’m fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

“Rrrrrow. Mmmmrowwwrrr.” 

“Oh, not again,” you mutter to yourself, rising from your couch to trudge to your back door. It’s starting early tonight.

You can barely see into the yard next door, but you spy a fluffy grey and white tail bobbing around. There he is. Your neighbor’s cat, yowling to be let inside, like always he does. The pitiful creature lets out another cry, and your heart twists. You know from years of living here that the jerk next door won’t be home for a while, so poor kitty is stuck outside in the rapidly cooling autumn air. Probably hungry for his dinner.

Well, you’ve had about enough of this. As you stand there, watching the cat’s tail swish in the air, the barest puff of an idea sneaks into your head. Before you can stop it, it blooms into a full-tilt plan. 

You’re already in motion when your phone buzzes with a text. Normally, you’d ignore it, but it’s your favorite person on the planet. 

Shua: whatcha doin

You: stealing my neighbor’s cat

Even though your best friend is famously down for any sort of drama, his response is so ridiculously fast that it makes you smile. 

Shua: scandalous

Shua: can I help

You send him a brief description of your plan, and he shoots back that he’s already on his way.

There’s a knock on your day exactly twenty minutes later, proof that he wasn’t lying. When you open the door, Joshua takes one look at you and points, nodding. “Yes, good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.” 

He’s referring to the fact that you’re both dressed completely in black, head to toe. The only difference between you is that he’s got a cute beanie shoved over his hair, a few strands hanging down in his eyes as he smiles at you. 

“I worried maybe I was taking this too seriously.” 

“Oh, no, this is very serious,” you inform him, leading him through your townhouse to the back door. “I’m really about to rescue Mr. Meepers from that asshole.” 

“Hell yeah, you a- wait, did you say Mr. Meepers?”

“Yes, I did, and yes, I know,” you laugh. 

Junhui, your horrible neighbor’s amazing ex-boyfriend, might not be the best when it comes to naming pets, but he’s a very sweet guy. While he and Mr. Asshole Next Door adopted the cat together, it was always very clear that he was Jun’s cat, and Jun’s cat alone. It breaks your heart to know that Mr. Meepers is being kept hostage solely for the purpose of punishing Jun for leaving that asshole.  

“He’s such a cute kitty, though, so friendly and playful, and Junhui’s really upset that he can’t get him back. That asshole won’t return his texts anymore. And the one time Jun showed up, he wouldn’t even answer the door.”

You pause to look out the window. Your yard and the one adjoining to the left are clear - or, at least as much as you can see over the fence seems empty.

“It’s bad enough that he won’t give Jun his pet back, but I know this jerk doesn’t take good care of him. He’s always locking him out in the yard. Doesn’t matter the time of day - I hear him out there all the time, crying and clawing at the patio door.” You frown. “Doesn’t matter what the weather’s doing and he doesn’t leave any water out for him, either. Just throws him outside and locks the door.”

As you ramble on, Joshua’s expression darkens. “I knew your neighbor was an asshole, but damn. That’s fucking cold.” He tips his head as another mournful “mrrrrooowww” sounds. “Is that him?” 

“Uh-huh.”

“He sounds so sad. How can that guy not care?”

“I dunno. Guess it’s easy to ignore innocent animals when you don’t have a heart.” You square your shoulders, steeling yourself for what you’re about to do. “Thanks to that loud-ass engine on his piece of shit car, I know when that asshole gets off work. He always stops at a bar on Friday nights, so he’ll be home later than usual, but we don’t have a lot of time to do this. Might not be a great idea to do it now, but…”

“But Mr. Meepers doesn’t deserve to suffer any longer. I get it.” Joshua squeezes your arm, bolstering you a little with his comforting touch. You smile at him gratefully, and he grins back before clearing his throat and turning to the window. “So. We’re gonna go out there and get him.”

“Right.” 

“Right. So… how exactly are we gonna do that?” 

“With some loose fence planks and these.” You reach into the pouch of your hoodie and pull out a small crinkled bag. “Mr. Meepers loves tuna treats. I toss them over the fence whenever I see him out there.” 

“Of course you do,” Joshua hums, shaking his head. He loves to tease you about how soft-hearted you can be, but you’d argue he’s just as gentle and kind as you are. He simply hides it better - except when he’s around you. You’ve yet to figure out if it’s intentional or if your friendship is the chip in his armor, allowing you to see through to the real him. 

“Well, Mr. Meepers doesn’t deserve to sit out there all hungry because that jerk doesn’t actually want him. All he wants is to hurt Jun.” There’s no real need to explain yourself, but you do it anyway. Joshua’s hand brushes your arm again and you inhale a calming breath. “Okay. Time’s not stopping, so let’s do this. Are you ready?” 

Joshua gives you a nod. “Let’s go.” 

Leaving your back door open a crack, in case you need to make a hasty retreat, the two of you set out on your mission. 

Your neighborhood is typically pretty quiet this time of evening. There’s the sound of kids playing in their yard a few doors down, and the usual buzz of traffic on the main road two blocks over, but nothing loud enough to cover your footsteps as you crunch through the grass and fallen leaves lining the fence that separates your yard from your neighbor’s. The moon is already out, and a few stars dot the sky, but you still need the flashlights on your phones to give you enough light to keep from tripping over anything in your path.

Joshua insists on being the one to try to pry the boards off the fence. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to pull a few away, a fact that makes him cluck his tongue. “This is so unsafe, YN. Your landlord needs to fix this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” You’ve got a whole list of breaking or broken items for the landlord to repair. It’s the effort - and, especially, the time - that it takes to call and wait around for him to show up that you don’t have. “I’ll get around to calling him someday.” 

“I’m being serious,” Joshua insists, the concerned furrow of his brow evident even in the dim glow cast by his phone. “It’s not safe. What if someone gets in this way? Like a burglar? Or - or worse?”

“Well, they’ll have to get into asshole’s yard first to get to mine this way…” The odds of someone breaking into your home via this now person-sized hole in the fence are incredibly low. But you’re not going to argue about it at the moment. Not when you can hear the worry in your friend’s voice. “You’re right. I’ll call him next week. After we’ve made sure Mr. Meepers is safe with Junhui.”

“Good. It’s just… I can’t even think about what I’d do if something happened to you.” 

Joshua’s look of relief is enough to send warmth flooding through your chest, but combined with his words, it has your heart launching into frantic palpitations. Quickly, you duck through the space in the fence, needing to move away from your friend for fear that he might be able to feel the fluttering. You’ve spent the better part of two years hiding your crush on your friend. No need to give yourself away now. 

A bright light suddenly clicks on.

“Crap!” you gasp. In a burst of panic, you dive back towards the gap in the fence, only to find Joshua there. He lets out a surprised cry as you crash into him, knocking him flat on his back, another tiny “oof” forced from his lungs when you land on top of him. “Sorry!”

“What are yommmmph-”

“Shhhh!” 

You press your hand over Joshua’s mouth and glance over your shoulder. Your neighbor’s yard is still, nothing that you can see through the hole moving except for some unkempt bushes swaying in the chilly evening air.

You sigh. “Sorry. I forgot he’s got a motion detector light. I panicked.” 

Joshua hums, the brush of his lips tickling your fingers, and you remove your hand with an embarrassed laugh. Now that your fright has passed, you’re painfully aware of your current position, lying chest to chest, hip to hip on top of your best friend. His arms are locked solidly behind your back, cradling you to him as if he’s still trying to break your fall. 

It’s impossible to turn away when he looks at you, even though your heart is twisting itself into knots, so filled with longing that it’s tying you up inside. The longer you gaze into his eyes, the more your heart aches. 

Completely unaware of the inner turmoil you’re currently facing, Joshua grins. “Next time we steal someone’s pet in an act of righteous retribution, maybe I’ll be the one to gather the important intel first. Like motion lights.” He laughs, and you can feel it through your chest against his. Your heart twists again. “You can be the muscle, with a tackle like that.” 

“Shut up,” you groan, trying to gracefully slide onto the grass beside him, without success.  “I didn’t hit you that hard.” 

“I don’t know, I think I’m gonna be feeling that tomorrow.” He rubs his left shoulder gingerly, but he can’t fool you. You smack his other shoulder and he gives up the bit, laughing. “Fine, fine, you’re not the muscle. But I’m definitely the brains of this team.” 

“Pffft. If you’re anything, you’re the face.” 

“The what?” 

“You know. In a heist crew, the face.” You stand up, brushing some dry leaves from your hoodie. “The smooth talker? The one they send in to charm a target. That’s you.” 

“Oh.” Joshua’s eyebrow rises as he considers your words. “Um, thank you?” 

“You’re welcome. It’s a compliment.” 

“Is it?” He cracks a grin when you lightly punch his shoulder again. “Sounds like a weird way to call me manipulative.” 

“Don’t read into it so deep,” you state wryly. “I only meant that you’re, like, a fast thinker. And good at talking to people.” And incredibly charming. Joshua’s had you wrapped around his finger for ages. Thank god he doesn’t seem to know it. If he ever realized his true power over you, he’d be totally insufferable. And you’d still do whatever he wanted.

“Uh-huh. But if it’s all about me being good at talking, then why is it called the ‘face?’” 

He would ask that. 

“Um… most of the time the face is also really good-looking. It helps, y’know, to sell the lie if it’s coming from a pretty face.”

“Pretty?” His fingers fly to the bottom of his beanie again, tugging it down further. A nervous habit of his. 

”Well, yeah,” you say, shrugging. “You are very pretty.” 

You ride the surge of adrenaline in your veins forward and step through the hole into the yard next door before Joshua can react. 

It turns out to be a blessing that your neighbor has a motion light. His backyard is an obstacle course of rusty lawn furniture, neglected plants, and overgrown tufts of weeds. Carefully, you wind your way towards the patio, only to realize that Mr. Meepers is no longer sitting there.

“Mr. Meepers?” you call out in a hushed yell. “Where’d you go?” You must’ve spooked the cat with your wild dive earlier.

“He couldn’t have gotten out of the yard, could he?”

“I don’t know. I always figured he couldn’t or he would’ve run away by now.” Taking the treats out of your pocket, you give the bag a shake. “I brought you some of your favorite num-nums!”

“Your favorite num-nums?” Joshua echoes incredulously. 

“Shut up or I’ll tackle you again,” you mutter, catching his smirk out of the corner of your eye. “Here, Mr. Meepers!” 

You shake the bag of treats again and a bush near the edge of the patio rustles in reply. Mr. Meepers comes striding out, tail flicking happily as he brushes against your outstretched fingers. 

“Mmmrowww,” he chirps.

“Hi buddy,” you reply, scratching his ears lightly. “Here are your num-nums as promised.” Mr. Meepers nibbles on his treats as you stroke your fingers over his soft fur. “This is gonna be the last time I’ll give you these. You wanna know why? Hmm? Because we are busting you out of here and taking you home! Doesn’t that sound good?” 

The cat purrs loudly, nosing at the bag in your hand, and you cave, giving him a few more treats.

“No wonder Junhui’s been so sad. You’re just the cutest little thing, aren’t you?”

“So cute.” 

The words are whispered breathlessly, so quietly you’re almost not sure you heard them right. You glance up at Joshua, only to find your friend staring at you with a curious look on his face, an expression that you can’t quite name but it makes your pulse jolt regardless. You’re about to ask him if he’s okay when he suddenly straightens up, shaking his head a little.

“We, uh, we should probably not linger here,” he says, fingers clutching at his beanie. 

It almost defies belief how quickly his words jinx the two of you. You’re about to pick up Mr. Meepers when you hear it - the sound of your neighbor’s front door opening.

“Fuck, he’s home!” you hiss. Fast as you can, you scoop Mr. Meepers into your arms, thankful that he trusts you enough not to fight. Joshua holds out his hand to help you up and you stumble clumsily to your feet, apologizing when you bounce off of him. 

“Forget it, just go!” 

Joshua’s fingers lace through yours as the two of you scramble madly towards the hole in the fence. He reaches it first, but doesn’t go through, urging you on, his hands pushing gently on your back the whole time. As soon as you’re clear, he pops through behind you. 

Mr. Meepers chooses that moment to start squirming. He wiggles out of your grip somehow and drops delicately to the ground. For a split second you’re afraid he’s going to bolt through the hole, but instead he darts across your lawn and into your open door.

Before you can follow, you hear the loud creak of your neighbor’s back door opening. You and Joshua both flatten yourselves against the fence, desperate not to be seen. 

“Dinner time, dummy!”

There’s a spike of anger in your anxiety. You really hate your neighbor. He doesn’t wait long for the cat to respond to his call, slamming his screen door shut a few seconds later. 

A few excruciatingly long seconds after that, the light goes out. Everything is quiet again, save for your slight hyperventilating.

You blink a few times. “Oh my god, I thought we wer-”

The screen door next door opens again. 

“Yo, dummy, where are you? It’s time to come in!”

Your neighbor’s head pops up over the fence as he walks out onto his patio.

Joshua grabs the rotten planks and shoves them back into place. In his race to cover up the hole, though, he’s a bit too careless, and pinches his thumb. “Shit!”

You freeze. 

“Mr. Meepers?” the asshole next door calls out. “Stupid cat, what are you getting into?”

You can’t breathe. The threat of being caught now when you’re so close to victory makes your heart skip several beats in fear. Then Joshua’s gaze meets yours, and your heart positively leaps as he springs into action, pressing you against the fence. 

“Just go with it,” he whispers. He doesn’t give you a chance to process his words before he’s cupping your face, and then he leans in and kisses you. It’s a little hasty, a little rushed, like desperation propels him forward. But when his hands drop to your waist, bringing the two of you closer together, you relax into one another. The kisses turn slow, lingering.  

Your eyes slip shut as you breathe him in, citrus and cardamom, his cologne so warm and sweet, just like his kisses. He’s covering your body with his own like he’s shielding you. Protecting you. You could simultaneously shout for joy and cry. 

“What was tha- oh - oh shit, ‘m sorry - “ 

Your neighbor’s voice sputters into silence, and then a few seconds later, the light goes out. Joshua keeps kissing you, arms on either side of your head, but his caresses are more playful now, teasing nudges of his nose against your cheek, tiny pecks on your lips. 

“Joshua.” You speak his name intending to ask what he’s doing, but it comes out like a whine. You’re flustered and Joshua laughs, clearly enjoying it.

“I don’t think he’s looking anymore,” he deadpans, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he cups your face.

“Okay,” you reply, leaning in for another kiss. Joshua’s laughter vibrates against your mouth as you clutch at his hoodie, trying to keep him close. He manages to pull away anyway.

“We should probably get inside before the cat gets out.” 

With that gentle reminder of why you’re out in your yard in the first place, the fog around your head dissipates. You look at your back door and find Mr. Meepers sitting right inside, staring at the two of you. 

“Right.”Joshua’s right, but he also hasn’t let go of you, and that is seriously affecting your ability to think right now. You try to pull yourself together. “Um. Joshua.” 

“Yeah?” 

Countless ideas flit through your brain, the majority of them involving kissing him again. 

“Thank you. For saving us. That was, um. That was good. And, it was…” You’re burning up, the back of your neck heating with a heady mix of desire and embarrassment at how you’re reacting to Joshua’s touch.

“It was what?”

“It was just… really good,” you trail off dumbly in a tiny voice.

He smirks. “Told you I was the brains.” 

You feel slightly sheepish when he laughs again, but you're quickly reassured when he kisses you softly.

“C’mon,” he says, taking your hand again. “Let’s finish your mission and get Mr. Meepers back home. Then maybe I’ll show you what else I’m thinking.”

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[pedrospatch]

bailé con mi ex l (javier peña x female reader)

summary: After a night out at the club with your friends, you confess to Javier that you danced with your ex-boyfriend and he doesn’t take the news too well.

pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

warnings: 18+ only, minors dni. Protective, jealous and slightly possessive Javi, he is a lil toxic, but just a smidge I promise; innocent-ish reader; angst, bits of fluff sprinkled in here and there. Not proofread for spelling, sorry!

word count 2.2k

a/n 📝 wooo, Vee finally popped her Javi cherry. testing the waters with this one, I also have a couple prompts from a while back to still write. it is based on a Becky G song, yes I know she and this song did not exist back in the day (I think? Idk what year she was born tbh) but ANYWAY I just really like the lyrics and plus it’s fiction so who cares lmao. Translations at the end ✨

Tú no me creerás, pensarás que hay algo más

es difícil de entenderlo, pero no sería capaz de enganãrte

y si te lo cuento

es porque tengo muy claro lo que siento

It was half past one o’ clock in the morning—you had told Javier you’d be home by midnight at the very latest. But a night out at one of the more popular clubs in Bogotá celebrating a close friend’s birthday meant that none of the girls were going to allow you to leave that early without giving you some kind of shit about it, so you had stayed just a little while longer and tossed back another drink or two before finally calling it a night. Your friends still gave you grief about it, but knowing Javier, he would be worried, especially since cartel violence in the region had begun to escalate over the last several months, worsening to the point where Javi didn’t even like you going out to the produce market all by yourself in broad daylight.

You tried to be as quiet as possible as you pulled your keys out from your purse, fumbling around with them in the dark until you’d finally found the right one to unlock the front door of yours and Javier’s shared apartment. You slipped inside and the moment that you did, the lights flipped on, causing you to whirl around and let out a startled little yelp. 

You turned to see Javier standing there, fully dressed in his jeans and a tight red button up shirt with his set of car keys clutched in hand. “Javi,” You breathed out his name as your hand flew to your chest. You shot him a glare. “Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me! What in the world are you doing? Why are you dressed—do you have any idea what time it is right now?”

“Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” Javier retorted, raising an eyebrow at you. Part of him seemed to be upset, but the other part of him seemed more relieved than anything. He tossed his keys down onto the small, hallway table and walked over to you, taking your face between his large hands as he kissed your forehead. He let his lips linger on your skin as he reminded you, “You told me you would be home by midnight, amor. You can’t tell me that and then come home almost two hours later. You know how bad things are out there right now. You could have at least called me to let me know you’d be late.”

“I’m sorry, I know. It’s just that the girls were shoving shot glass after shot glass right into my hands and time just got away from me,” You said, placing both of your hands right over his. Your eyes met his dark brown ones and you flashed him a sincere, apologetic look. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t mean to make you worry, Javi.”

He sighed. “Well, you’re home safe now. That’s all that matters to me.” Javier dropped his hands from your face and led you into the living room. “Can I get you anything, baby? Are you thirsty?”

“Actually, I’d love a glass of water,” You admitted, kicking off your black, high heeled shoes before dropping down onto the supple, brown leather couch. You watched him as he padded over into the kitchen. “I didn’t get as drunk as I thought I would, you know.” You added jokingly, “I think my tolerance for tequila is through the roof now.”

Javi laughed as he pulled a glass from one of the kitchen cabinets; he then filled it with water from the jug he’d pulled out of the refrigerator. “But you still had fun, right?”

“God, I had so much fun,” You told him with a grin. “I danced all night, Javi.”

“With who?” He’d asked the question casually, but you could detect the seriousness behind it. 

Your smile faded slightly.

At first, you hadn’t planned to tell him. But Javier was the love of your life, and you would never dare to keep any kind of secret from him.

Still, you knew he wouldn’t be all too happy with what you were about to confess.

Javier walked back over to you, handing you the glass of water. He frowned, noticing the hesitant expression on your face. “What is it?” He placed his hands on his hips, peering at you curiously. “You didn’t dance with any guys, did you?”

“Just one,” You admitted, softly. 

Javier froze a moment, his shoulders going rigid. 

“What?” Through gritted teeth, he demanded to know, “Who?”

The moment your ex boyfriend’s name fell from your lips, the color drained from Javier’s face. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Setting the glass down on the table beside the couch, you quickly jumped up and held up your hands in defense. “Wait a minute, before you get mad about it, just let me explain—”

“What the hell is there to explain?” Javier nearly growled at you. “That you went to some nightclub and danced with another man? One who happens to be your fucking ex-boyfriend? Es en serio?”

You went up to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Javi, please. Just wait one second—”

He snatched his arm away. “Don’t touch me!”

Your heart sank and you backed away. “Really? You’re not even going to let me explain myself?”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Javier replied coolly. His eyes flickered up and down, giving you a quick once over from head to toe. “I would have never thought that you would be such a—”

Javier stopped himself, knowing all too damn well that he was far too angry to think clearly before letting anything come out of his mouth.

But it was too late.

He could see the hurt that flashed in your eyes. 

“Such a what?” You crossed your arms over your chest, the blood in your veins running frigid. You then raised a knowing eyebrow at him. “Such a whore?”

“I didn’t say fucking that,” he muttered, averting your gaze.

Blinking back the tears that burned your eyes, you roughly shoved past him and went straight into the bathroom. Trembling, you began looking for a clean washcloth so that you could start taking off your makeup.

The sound of the front door slamming violently just a minute or two later caused you to wince.

Certain that Javier was gone, you sank down onto the cold white tile and began to sob.

A couple of hours later into the early morning, you were sitting on your bed in nothing but one of Javier’s shirts. 

You had cried and cried, releasing your emotions until your eyes had gone dry.

You’d hoped Javier would come right back home and talk things out with you, but by the time four o’ clock rolled around, you had given up on that hope. Letting out an exhausted sigh, you were just about to reach out and switch off the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed when you heard the sound of the front door opening and then closing. 

You swallowed harshly as the sound of his footsteps approaching drew closer and closer.

Javier walked into the bedroom, looking surprised to see you sitting there, still awake at this hour. He spoke in a cold tone that let you know he was still upset with you. “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

Even from where he stood, you could smell the heavy stench of cigarettes and scotch all over him.

“I was waiting up for you,” You murmured, quietly.

Javier kicked the bedroom door closed behind him and let out a long sigh. He said nothing else to you as he kicked off his tan boots and began shrugging out of his shirt, tossing it aside.

“Where were you?” You asked him, your small voice breaking through the silence. 

“I needed a drink,” he responded curtly with his back to you.

“We have drinks here, you know.”

“Yeah, well I needed something a lot stronger than what we’ve got.”

Finally, Javier had no choice but to turn around and face you.

The second he did, a fresh tear slipped down the side of your face.

Javier’s stomach sank deeply and the expression on his face immediately softened.

“Bebe—”

You lifted both your hands to your mouth, muffling a broken sob.

“Hell, I’m sorry,” he apologized as he walked over, taking a seat beside you on the bed. He reached for your wrists, gently tugging them away from your face. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get so upset at you, alright?”

“Do you really think that of me? Do you think that I’m a—?” You’d said the word once, but couldn’t find it in yourself to utter it again.

“Of course I don’t, mi vida. I was just angry, I wasn’t even thinking.” He paused, noticing the way you were trembling and reached up to cradle the side of your face in his palm. “Put yourself in my shoes for a second. Wouldn’t you be angry at me if I came home from a late night at the club and told you I had danced with one of my exes?”

“Probably,” You admitted, feeling the envy boil in your lower belly as you thought about him holding another woman in his arms. “But I would have at least given you the chance to explain yourself. I mean, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me, Javi?”

Javier opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it shut.

He’d fucked up.

“Well?” You prompted him. “Answer me, Javier. Have I ever done anything to make you think that you can’t trust me?”

“No.” His hand dropped from your face. He spoke again, guilt lacing his tone. “You’ve never given me one single reason not to trust you.”

You let out a small, shaky sigh and brought your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “He was at the club with his friends tonight,” You began to explain to him. You noticed the way Javier stiffened slightly; although you knew he didn’t want to hear about how you had danced with your ex-boyfriend, you decided to continue on anyway. He needed to know. “He came up to me and he said hello. We had a drink together and then he asked me to dance with him.” Unable to help yourself, you let out a small breathy chuckle. “We danced to quite a few songs, actually. It was just like old times.”

Javier’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists.

Before he could say anything, you lifted one of your own hands to stop him. “He was a great guy, Javier. We had a good relationship, but it just didn’t work out. It wasn’t meant to be. When we broke up, it was amicable and we wished each other best and now, a couple years later, we both have the best. He’s with someone he loves and I’m with someone that I love too.” You offered him a tiny, watery smile. “I don’t have eyes or space in my heart for anyone else but you, Javier. Seeing him again and dancing with him tonight made me realize that I would never even dare to think about jeopardizing our relationship. I love you more than anything, and I would never do anything to betray you.” 

He stared at you, mouth agape.

Oh, he’d definitely fucked up.

Before meeting you, Javier had never been the kind of man to do relationships—because he’d never known how to do relationships. 

Before you’d walked into his life, all Javier knew was meaningless sex with escorts and informants, one night stands with coworkers—regardless of who he fucked, he had always been able to walk away the following morning without any sort of attachment. It’s what he wanted, or at least, it’s what he’d thought he wanted. 

And then Javier met you. 

You weren’t the type of woman who he’d normally set his sights on. You didn’t walk around almost naked like half the women in Colombia, you didn’t smoke, you rarely ever even cursed and only drank when your friends pressured you into it—you had this kind of sweet innocence written all over you, and normally Javier would never look twice at a woman like you because a woman like you looked for a boyfriend; not a fuck buddy and certainly not a one night stand.

Javier Peña had never been boyfriend material. 

He didn’t know how to be in a relationship.

At least not a healthy one. 

Even now, he struggled to be the partner that you deserved. He met your physical needs without a single problem, but your emotional needs were something of a challenge for him. Still, Javi loved you with every fiber of his entire being and he was more than willing to keep on trying to be the man you needed him to be in every way possible. 

“I’m sorry,” Javier murmured again after a while. He reached out, placing his hand on your bare thigh. “I am so sorry, baby. Perdoname, preciosa. Please.”

You placed your hand on top of his, giving him another little smile. “Of course I forgive you, Javi.”

Relieved, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. As he began to deepen the kiss, his hands reached out, tugging at the hem of his shirt were wearing.

“Javi, it’s four in the morning,” You giggled against his lips.

Javier chuckled. He pushed you back against the pillows and swung his leg over to climb on top of you. “When has that ever stopped us before?”

“True,” You grinned up at him before pulling him down towards you for another kiss.

;Translations

lyrics:

You might not believe me, you’ll think there’s something more

it’s difficult to understand, but I could never betray you

if I’m telling you this, it’s because I know exactly how I feel

fic:

amor - love

es en serio? - are you serious?

bebe - baby

mi vida - my life

perdoname, preciosa - forgive me, precious girl

[anothermansjeans]

Closer

a.h x f!reader

cw: some slight angst (blink and you miss it)

wc: 1k

prompts

a/n: hiiiii!!! this is based on this request! sorry for taking a bit, i've been swamped with homework. i have one more in my inbox but im still taking requests! you can uses any of the prompt lists linked or just send me any request you have!

++

Hotch had a problem. He didn't necessarily want this problem, but he also didn't want to fight it. He had started to develop feelings for his coworker– who is also his subordinate– Y/N.

It started pretty recently. The team got back from a case and he told Jessica he would need her to watch Jack for a couple more hours. Unfortunately, that couldn't work for her, so he asked if she could talk to the babysitting agency and get someone in before she left. All was well when he last heard from her, and he was told that if they can't get someone out, they'll call him.

That’s why when his personal phone rang, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering “this is the one time I’m wishing they’re calling about my car’s extended warranty.” Alas, he picked up the phone and saw it was the agency he used, and they couldn't get anyone out this late in his area. He was so frustrated, he wanted to cry, which was more common than not recently.

After hanging up, he was so lost in his head, preparing to head out and take his work home with him (he never liked doing this, too scared Jack may see something he shouldn't). He didn't realize his door was opened the entire time, and he certainly didn't realize that Y/N had popped her head in with a mildly concerned look on her face.

“Hey, I was just heading out… are you okay?”

He jumped the tiniest bit, and looked up at her. “Uh, yeah. I’m actually leaving too.” He stood up and grabbed the pile of files in his desk, preparing to shove them in his briefcase, when he looked up for a millisecond to see the confused look on her face. “Jessica can't watch Jack for the rest of the night and there are no babysitters available this late of notice. I have to bring work home.”

Hotch didn't know what to expect from his oversharing, but it definitely wasn't the next words out of Y/N’s mouth. “I can watch him!” He looked at her. She looked at him. Y/N suddenly laughed to herself and shook her head. “Sorry, I meant to say if you need me to, since I’m already heading out, I can watch him until you're finished up here. I know how you feel about bringing those files home.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that–”

“You're not asking!” She promptly cut him off. “Trust me, Hotch, I want to do this for you. The sooner you say okay, the sooner I can go relieve Jessica.”

He numbly nodded, putting his briefcase on his desk. “Yes, thank you. I owe you for this. I’ll let Jessica know and I promise I won't be too long so that you can enjoy the rest of your night.”

And it was that simple of a solution. He did his work, you watched Jack, and when he got home, he was able to witness you putting his kid to bed. It was sweet (beyond sweet, really), and since then, whenever the team got back from a case and he needed extra help with Jack, Y/N would volunteer without being prompted. He loved seeing the little moments Y/N had with Jack, so much so that he would sometimes come home a little early (he could survive the extra work on a night Jessica was babysitting) and offer to have Y/N stay for dinner, which turned into bedtime for Jack, and then a little wine after he was asleep.

He didn't know when the feelings began to develop exactly, but once he noticed the excitement of going home to not only Jack but also Y/N, well he wanted to put a little bit of space between them. He wishes it was a gradual thing– really, he does– but he kind of just started declining her offers, making sure to book a babysitter hours (sometimes days) prior so that there were no issues with someone watching Jack. He hadn't taken into account what Y/N would be feeling about this shift, and he wasn't sure why he was so surprised when she marched into his office after a case; a time where they would normally arrange for her to watch Jack.

“Did I do something? Did I hurt Jack, or offend you, or literally anything wrong?”

“Excuse me?” His head whipped up from the papers under him.

“We had a routine. Something happened to disrupt the routine. I just need to know what I did wrong.” She looked sad. That was something Hotch didn't see on her often.

“You didn't do anything wrong.” He placed his pen down and stood up, closing his office door and standing in front of Y/N. “I have this problem.” He didn't know how else to state it, but he had to say something now or she’d think that his problems are her fault (and he would say a hundred times over that this was never her fault). “I don’t want to feel things for you but at the same I have this need to be near you 24/7.”

Eyes wide and deep breaths, the only thing Y/N could utter out was “what?”

Hesitating, Hotch stepped a little closer. “After seeing you with Jack and spending more time with you I…” he scoffed and shook his head “this is so juvenile.”

“Keep going, please.” Her response was quick. She needed him to finish.

“I want to be near you all of the time and I got scared of that– we work together, I’m your unit chief, I shouldn't be feeling things the way I do so I just… I pulled away.”

The silence was suffocating for the minute Y/N took to digest all that was said, but after what felt like years to Hotch, he felt her hand tentatively touch his, gently raking her nails down his palm before interlocking their fingers. “You don't have to… pull away.” The shy look was turning into one of awe. “We can… be around each other more often. See what happens. If you want.”

Maybe Hotch didn't have a problem. He felt a warmth spread through his body at the mere thought of being closer to Y/N, to seeing what happens with them, to a future. He definitely didn't have a problem.

[grandlinedreams]

Well, since I have fallen for your writing pretty hard (it's a blessing really, because so far only your reader can be read as a he when it comes to the Fallout series fandom), my brain's been spewing ideas at me.

I'd love to see a genuinely jealous Cooper. Awfully and painfully jealous, where he's actually hurting and doubting himself, but is also angry. Not the kind of playful jealousy he felt towards Lucy, no. Something deeper. And angry at the slimy guy who's already stepped over any kind of boundaries when he's laid his eyes on what's his. But they need the information, they can't go forward without it, so the plan is for the reader (you knooow, that version of the reader from that particular fic of yours, where they are crafting ammo) to get close, flirt with him, go real sweet on him. But that guy's too touchy. Too close, too dangerously close. To getting his brains blown out of his skull by Cooper's gun, that is.

I absolutely love your writing ❤️

OUGH YES I EAT THAT SHIT UP EVERY TIME but also thank-you!! I do my absolute best not to gender reader bc it bugs me to do it unless I'm asked to and it's also just a whole lot more inclusive! 🥺❤️

ㅡ

Warnings: jealous!Cooper, some self deprication, mentions of pre-War Cooper, weapons maker/dealer!reader, touch of angst, Canon typical violence, Lucy just watching all of this like ??, skeezy informant dude do be skeezin', boundaries very overstepped (unwanted touch, lewd words), questionable alcohol,cursing, quick and dirty Makeout sesh at the end lmao

The place is a "bar" in the lowest sense of the term. A gutted out building that was undoubtedly a diner of some kind before the war, now with blown out windows but surprisingly, a neon 'open' sign that halfway works in places, spitting sparks that makes Lucy eye it warily. "Is this place...safe?"

You snort. "If you're lookin' for safe, you should've stayed in that tin-can vault of yours." You adjust the sling of your pack, now far lighter than it'd been when you left with Cooper, Lucy, and Dogmeat. "We need information, and the best informant we've got likes to hang around here."

Lucy still doesn't look happy about it, but she reluctantly follows as you step forward. The inside resembles the outside for the most part, the same kind of dismal grey of the wastelands ㅡ but it's busy.

Battered tables teem with scavengers and raiders alike, and you pretend not to notice them ㅡ your attention is on the man doing a piss-poor job of wiping down what's left of a counter. A radio crackles, a singer croons sweetly, but the pitch is made tinny for the way the man casually smacks the top of it when it stutters. A barely there glance up at you, silent prompt that you follow.

"Three drinks," you say without preamble, shoving a handful of caps forward. Your fingers drum, eyes roaming in feigned disinterest ㅡ and then nod when three short glasses are shoved to you. The liquid is of a questionable color, watered down amber ㅡ you sniff it before you take a sip.

"Tastes like shit," you say when Cooper approaches and you hand him his glass, followed by Lucy, "but it gets the job done."

Lucy eyes the glass. "What is it?"

You down the rest of it. "Poor man's excuse for whiskey, I think. Or might be deathclaw piss, who knows."

Cooper snorts when Lucy's nose wrinkles, but she downs it with a grimace that makes you snicker and pat her back.

"Atta girl, vaultie. Atta girl."

The four of you settle at a table, Dogmeat at your feet as you stretch out, catching Lucy's look. "What?"

"What are we here for?"

"Information, vaultie," Cooper cuts in, "we don't have shit to go on as far as following your dear ol' daddy, so we gotta get some."

"And the best bet is getting it from that sneaky bastard," you let your eyes drift so that Lucy follows, "over there."

The man in question has clearly seen better days ㅡ or what he can see through the thick, wild tangle of silver-streaked hair on his head, the matching mess of beard that spills from his chin to his chest. He's sitting with a handful of scavengers, oblivious to the fact he's being watched.

"Him?" Lucy's tone expresses her doubt. "He doesn't look likeㅡ"

You knock your knuckles on the table to quiet her. "The point of being an informant, Lucy," you say in a low mutter, "is to not look like a fuckin' idiot who's listening in on shit they shouldn't."

"So who's gonna go talk to him?"

You sigh, eyeing the two. Cooper is obviously out of the question ㅡ it's the grace of his hat and the fact his back is to most of them that allows him some anonymity, but you have no doubts near everyone knows who he is. Or at the very least, what he is.

And Lucy... well. She's been out here for weeks now, but there's still a naive shinyness to her that says she'll fuck it up immediately, even if she doesn't mean to.

"Me," you say, and Lucy blinks at the same time Cooper tenses, eyes dark as they study your face. There's a protest on the tip of his tongue, one you silence as you continue, "I'm the best bet we have of getting what we need."

Lucy glances between you and Cooper, sensing the rising tension ㅡ and Dogmeat whines and nudges at your leg. Your eyes lock with Cooper's.

"Fine," he rasps. "Do what you have to."

ㅡ

Cooper is pissed. Lucy can tell that, the way his eyes never leave you as you trek back to the counter, another couple of caps for another drink ㅡ not for you, her, or him. But for that informant, the way you gesture with a casual nod in his direction.

He watches as the drink gets sent, the informant looking up, and his gloved hands tighten in his lap at the grin the other man gives you before he waves you over. He hates the casual way you step, relaxed, friendly ㅡ flirtatious, almost.

Cooper is not stupid. Far from it, he knows better than to outright stake claim on you in a way that can be used against him by others ㅡ but you're a chink in the proverbial armor, a weakness he's both grateful for and wishes he didn't have.

It's unspoken though, that you're his ㅡ and the fact he can't stroll over and make a point of it annoys him. Especially with the way the man's hand drifts over your leg, meaty fingers on a thigh Cooper has touched in a more intimate way, spaces reserved for him and him alone ㅡ seeing this fucker paw at you makes his blood boil.

"Looks like they're doing a good job so far," Lucy says, watching a little less intently than Cooper, "do you thinkㅡ"

"Vaultie." Cooper's voice is low and sharp. "Shut the fuck up."

It's not Lucy's fault, not really ㅡ but Cooper's two seconds from putting a bullet in this guy's head, information be damned. In another life, the life he'd had before, he figures he wouldn't be so irritated. He'd been handsome, hadn't really had to do much to make his stance clear ㅡ but now?

Now he knows what he looks like, how he acts ㅡ and the softer lining of your relationship is still new enough that there's that kernel of doubt. That you'd take someone else if given the chance, someone who could give you far more than he can ㅡ because all he can give you is all he knows.

Death and destruction, picking apart things until there's nothing left. All he knows how to do is take and take and take ㅡ and while you've yet to be bothered by it, he knows it's just a matter of time.

He tracks that hand when it slides up your back, teeth clenched because now you look distinctly uncomfortable. It's hidden, but he knows how to look for it, better at reading you than anyone else ㅡ and it's quickly fraying restraint that keeps him from getting up and coming to your rescue.

You flinch at the next touch, barely there recoil ㅡ but it's enough to snap Cooper's threadbare patience as he stands, ignoring Lucy's look of confusion as he strolls over.

His foosteps are slow, feigned casual as he approaches, settling a hand on your shoulder. Again, casual, were it not for the possessive pressure as he drawls, "Sorry for the interruption, but I need to borrow my friend here."

He's hauling you up before you can protest, and he commends himself on choosing this option rather than the one he so desperately wants ㅡ one that would involve splattering the brains of that fucker across the back wall. Even so, he takes too much pleasure in the intentional hand on said gun when the informant opens his mouth to protest.

He hurries you away from the table, ignores Lucy and Dogmeat as he tugs you past the table and outside, around the corner from prying eyes.

"Cooper," you snap, "what the fuckㅡ"

You're silenced by the aggressive press of his mouth on yours, gloved hand still firm around your upper arm as he cages you against the wall. He dominates the kiss, nips at your lip, deepens it with the muffle of a soft moan from you.

His other hand wanders, up your thigh, side, back ㅡ all the places that piece of shit dared to touch you. "I know I said do what you have to," he mutters when he breaks away to nip at your neck, "but I have my limits, sweetheart. 'specially when some fuckface is touchin' what's mine."

You squirm. "Cooperㅡ"

Dark eyes meet yours. "You are mine, aren't you darlin'?" You nod, and he clicks his tongue. "Words, babydoll. I wanna hear you say it."

It takes a second for you to find your voice. "Yours," you say, "I'm yours, Cooper."

He smirks, leaning in to kiss you again. Less aggressive but no less consuming, only letting up to let you breathe as he presses against you. "Good," he rasps, "better rememher that because I don't intend on losin' you, nor do I like the idea of fuckin' sharing."

[alvojake]

Same Difference | S.MG

「prompt」 : you're no better 「pairing」 : bf!mingi x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1.4k

��synopsis」 : after catching mingi cheating, you were blinded by rage and heartbreak, causing you to do the same, but of course, it doesn’t always end the way you want it to.

「genre」 : angst

「warnings」 : cussing, arguments, crying, infidelity from both parties, mentions of partying and alcohol, kissing, petnames, mingi lashes out at the end, lmk if I missed anything!!

masterlist ─ navi. ─ angstober list

“How long?” Your voice shook with anger as you looked at Mingi, tears blurring your vision. Mingi didn’t say a word as he looked at you, the words completely lost on his tongue. His lack of response only added fuel to the fire that was burning inside you. “How fucking long, Mingi?”

“It was just this once, I swear.” He tried to reassure you, taking a cautious step toward you, but you just held your hand.

“Just once? Who the fuck are you trying to kid Mingi?” You scoffed, shoving the small envelope of a picture in his chest. Shocked, Mingi opened the envelope and pulled out the pictures of him with multiple girls in the span of two months.

“Y/n–”

“Save it,” you stopped him, turning around to leave, but Mingi was quick to drop the pictures and grab your wrist. He pulled you back into him, wrapping his arms around your body and trapping you in his embrace. “Let me go!” You fought against his hold, but he was far too strong.

“I’m sorry, baby, please. I promise I won’t do it again. Just give me another chance.” He pleaded with you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Mingi, I swear to god.” You cursed, pushing against his chest when suddenly, an idea popped into your head. Albeit it was a horrible idea, but it was an idea to get back at Mingi nonetheless. So you stopped struggling in his hold, a sigh leaving your lips.

“Fine,” you nodded before telling him to let you go, which he did, but not before saying thank you and kissing your forehead. It took everything in you not to grimace and wipe your face off, but you just smiled softly. “But you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” You pointed your finger at him with a pout, causing him to laugh.

“Fair enough.” He then sat down on the couch while you walked off to the bedroom, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater the moment you were out of his line of sight. Disgusted by even being anywhere near him, you quickly took a shower before lying down in bed to devise your perfect plan.

As if the universe were answering your call, you got a message from Wooyoung asking if you and Mingi were going to be at Yunho’s party the coming weekend. A vindictive grin spread across your face as you quickly told him that you would be there. You had found the perfect plan.

You were going to show Mingi that if he can cheat… you could do it better.

–

When the weekend came around, you continued to play your role of happy girlfriend with Mingi despite the fact that you knew that he had, in fact, cheated again. So when you got to the party, you made quick work of finding out where the alcohol was, wanting to wash away some of the anger you were feeling.

However, it only worsened as you watched Mingi openly dance with another girl in the living room, her back pressed firmly against his chest and his hands wandering all over her body. Anger simmered in your blood as you watched, your fingers tightening around the cup in your hand.

“You squeeze any tighter, you’re gonna break the cup.” Jongho teased as he walked over, a teasing smirk on his lips. You looked over at him, a glare adorning your features.

“Trust me, breaking the cup is the least of my problems.” You grumbled, eyes flickering back to Mingi only to find him kissing down the other girl’s neck. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Jongho followed your gaze, and the smirk on his face dropped, a look of disgust filling in. He then reached over to grab your arm, but you just slammed your cup down and walked off. However, you didn’t get very far when Jongho grabbed your arm, spinning you around.

“Hey, where are you going?” He asked, looking down the hall that you had walked into.

Tears pooled in your eyes, you knew that he would do it again, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Jongho sighed before reaching up to cup your face, wiping a few of the stray tears from your cheeks.

“Why haven’t you broken up with him yet?” Jongho knew how much you loved Mingi, so seeing him doing something so distasteful must really be hurting you right now.

“I was going to, but then…” Your voice trailed on as you suddenly remembered your revenge plan once more and you reached out, wrapping your arms around Jongho’s neck, surprising the boy. “I came up with a plan, and I need your help.”

Jongho was shocked whenever you leaned up to kiss him, but whether it was the alcohol or just having you in his arms, he didn’t push you away. Rather, he pulled you closer, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. He didn’t need to know what this plan of yours was; all he needed to know was that this was something you wanted.

And when he had you under him in the guest bedroom, he knew that this was exactly what you wanted.

–

Your and Jongho’s little rendezvous continued for weeks, and those weeks turned into months. All while you kept the happy facade with Mingi. The older male was completely unaware of your infidelity, all while he believed you didn’t know about his.

Until he finally caught on to what was happening, hearing from his friends that you had been spending a lot more of your time with Jongho. He may not be the sharpest in the toolshed, but he wasn’t completely stupid.

So, after putting two and two together, he rushed back to your shared apartment, finding you in the kitchen on the phone with Jongho. He didn’t say a word as he snatched the phone from your hand, hanging up on Jongho and chucking the device at the wall, scaring the shit out of you.

“Mingi, what the fuck is your problem?” You shouted, looking at him in utter disbelief.

“My problem? What about yours? Huh?” His voice rose as he pointed an accusing finger in your direction. "You’ve been cheating on me," Mingi declared, and you just scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Wow, congratulations, Einstein. Do you want a gold star?” you asked sarcastically, anger boiling in the pit of your stomach once more. You wondered where the hell he got the audacity to react like this when he was the one who cheated first.

“Are you fucking serious right now, y/n?” He growled, stepping closer to you but you were quick to clock it, pushing him back.

“No, Mingi, are you fucking serious right now? You come in here shouting at me about cheating when you have been sticking your dick in any bitch you can. Since you ‘apologized,’ you don’t get to be mad at me.” You shouted back at him, shoving your finger right in the center of his chest, angry tears spilling from your eyes.

“Oh, so that’s supposed to make you look better? You’ve been sleeping with my best friend!” Mingi’s eyes held a crazed look in them as his lip twitched in anger. “News flash, it doesn’t make you any better!”

“Yeah, well, I never said I was; you were just a fucking idiot for thinking I wouldn’t get back at you.” You scoffed, throwing your hands up, “At least I was consistent; who knows what you’ve been sticking your dick in.”

Mingi scoffed, a short laugh falling from his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair, “That's real fucking low, y/n, even for you.”

“Yeah, well, you should have thought about that before cheating on me in the first place.” You rolled your eyes, getting fed up with this conversation. “Now get the fuck outta my apartment and don’t even think about coming back, I’ll have someone collect your shit.”

There was no room for negotiation so Mingi did exactly that, but not before shoving everything off of the hallway table, shattering a vase in the process.

“Real fucking mature!” You shouted, glaring at him from the entryway of the kitchen. Mingi just flipped you off, and you couldn’t help but laugh, “fuck you too, asshole!”

Then he was gone, the apartment falling into silence once more, and you were finally left with your thoughts. Sadness and relief flooded your veins all at once as you dropped down to your knees, the adrenaline finally wearing off. You weren’t even sure if what you did was even worth it because Mingi was right. What you did doesn’t make you any better than him, if anything… 

It made you worse.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[nightxcreature]

Don't Call Me (SoldierboyxReader)

Summary: Reader and Ben have an altercation after an interview gone wrong.

Warnings: Cursing, Verbal Threats (Homicide), Sexually exploiting women, Jealousy, Anger, Angst

Pairing: Soldierboy x Jealous!Reader

A/N: Number two for @jacklesversebingo 2024! This one is based off the prompt: "Got something to say about that?" "No." "Well, you look like you do." Prompt is in bold. As always, edited as well as I can and this one has been proofread lol Criticism welcome, reposts, likes, and comments adored. 💕

Part Two is out now! It's titled "Payback".

My leg feels like it’s shaking a million miles an hour, electricity radiating down my arms. We had been sitting in Vought headquarters for the last three hours doing interview after interview with the flirtiest journalist. Her blonde hair bounced past her shoulders, her boobs on display no matter where she turned, and the sickly-sweet smiles she sent Ben sent bile up my throat every time. He was eating it up, of course, he always did. It didn’t matter how many times I let him fuck me, He always ate up these stupid interviews. They praised him, practically stripping themselves bare to please his ego. It was always the same statements, ‘You’re the world’s greatest hero, Soldier-Boy.’ ‘What would we ever do without you, Soldier-Boy?’ ‘What’s it like being the strongest man alive?’ ‘Do you want to sign my tits?’ Okay…that last one only happened once, but that doesn’t change the fact that they never have anything to say to me. If he had brought Mindstorm or Black Noir, hell even the twins, I’m sure this interview would be going a completely different way. The men are always front and center for these girls; Crimson Countess, Stormfront, and I are the last on the list, and the jealousy that boils in my veins at that knowledge is second to none.

                Of course, watching her throw herself at him wasn’t helping the situation. I can’t keep the little green monster at bay whether thinking about her ignoring me or about him wanting her. I always wondered if he thought of me when they were shoving themselves at him; I know the answer, but maybe in a perfect world he thinks of kissing my lips, of my hands on his body and his mouth on mine, of our bodies moving together and our minds melding as one when… “Hey! Hey! I’ve been yelling at you forever, Y/N!”  His voice snaps me out of my fog, and I turn to face him as he continues, “What? Have you got a dick up your ass? Pay attention!”

                The journalist laughs as I nod, rubbing a hand up his arm, and my eyes narrow, “Sorry, we’ve been doing this for hours and it feels like we’re getting nowhere. Are there any important questions left, Sweetheart, or are you just gonna sit here and keep theoretically sucking him off?”

                Her head snaps back and her jaw drops as she takes in what I asked, “Ex-excuse me?”

                “Do you have any important questions for me, or should I just leave the two of you alone?” I repeat slowly, “I’m getting a little sick of watching you two eye-fuck each other when I could be a fifth of Jack deep in my hotel room by now.”

                “I-I didn’t write down an-any questions for you.” She stutters out and flips through the papers in her lap, “I’m sure I can think of something though.”

                I roll my eyes and stand, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got better shit to do than this.” Turning on my heel, I storm out of the room and down the hallway. I barely make it to the elevator before I hear Ben’s heavy boots behind me. “Got something to say about that?” I ask turning to look at him, his features cold. Arms crossed and jaw set, the little muscle there jumping as he breathes.

                “No.” He responds curtly, a slight shake of his head the only change in his demeanor.

                “Well, you look like you do.” I snap, stepping into the elevator as the doors open. He shoves in behind me and we ride down in silence.

Just before we reach the ground floor, he slams a hand down onto the Emergency Stop button and corners me into the back of the small area. His eyes are blazing, breathing ragged, and his hands blocking me in, the epitome of anger all rolled into one man.

                “What, Ben?” I ask annoyed, glancing at his forearms above my head, “I have places to be.”

                “What the fuck is your problem?” He cuts me off, the vein in his neck bulging as he glares down at me, “Do you think just because I fuck you that you get to be a bitch to everyone else that wants to fuck me, too?”

                “I don’t give a shit who gets in your bed.”

                “Yeah? It sure seemed like it back there.” He nods behind him and his frown deepens, “What the fuck is your problem?”

                I sigh and duck underneath him to start the elevator back up, but he snatches me by the hair and shoves me back into the corner, “I’m not done talking to you.”

                I shove him back, standing taller to get in his face, “Well, I’m done talking to you. Hell, I’m done talking about you! That’s all anyone wants to talk about.” My breathing begins to shake, and I can feel my eyes blazing as my voice raises, “Do you think all this came from having a sexual relationship with you? From me being jealous that other women are in bed with you? No, Ben! That bitch didn’t even have questions for me. If I have to be there to watch you flirt with these stupid women over and over, the least they could do is ask me something more than how uncomfortable my suit is if I gain a few pounds!”

                He rolls his eyes and takes a step closer to me, towering over me, “You’re seriously going to act like this over her asking the face of Payback a few questions? Get it through your fucking skull,” He spits, tapping a finger against my temple, “I am not your boyfriend. I am not your friend. I’m your boss, I use you for a good time and I leave. That’s it.”

                “Fuck you, Ben!”

                “You already did.”  He smirks and slides a hand behind him to press the button, “And you’ll do it again.”

                Shock reverberates through my body, and I can feel the electricity building in my palms at a rapid pace. I hate him. I hate his cocky attitude. I hate his stupid face. I hate that he’s right. God, I hate him. Unconsciously, I reach out to grab his arms, but he steps to the side as the doors slide open. A raise of his brow tells me that he knows just as well I do, he was a centimeter away from the shock of his life.

                “That would be the last thing you do, Sweetheart.” He whispers maliciously, “You’re a great lay, Y/N, but I’ll kill you before you can blink, and we both know it. That sweet pussy isn’t worth all this trouble.”

                I smile sweetly, a sudden surprising confidence taking over my body. I blink once, twice, and finally a third time before staring him dead in the face, “I’m still breathing.” Flipping him off, I step out of the elevator and head down the hallway, “Don’t call me, Asshole.”

If he’s going to kill me, I’m going to give him a damn good reason.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: This one was a little easier to write without a tiny human running around the house, I actually got it finished while she was in school. I have been so nervous since dropping that smutty fic yesterday, so here's a little angst and anger to make me feel better lmaooo

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Twenty: Friend Or Foe, Part I

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of grief and death (steve is having a hard time and it's my fault), themes of threat

[A/N: Did anyone say they've been needing a writer to return with a buttload of angst and scream-worthy cliffhangers? No? Well, I'm back now so I guess you don't have a choice.]

Friend Or Foe, Part I

He can’t stop replaying that moment in his head.

“I’m gonna turn any minute now.” You place your hands on his cheeks, making sure he was listening to your every word. “And I don’t want my last memory to be crossing back into our home knowing I won’t make it five steps before the virus kills me. Okay? So, you’re gonna go through the gate and you’re not ever gonna look back. Please. Don’t come back for me.”

“I can’t-” He cries and you bring his forehead down to touch yours, nodding.

“I know.” You whisper, leaning forward to leave a feather-light kiss on his lips.

His eyes are still closed when you lean back, studying him one last time.

“Which is why I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes snap open just in time to watch your hands find his chest and shove him as hard as you can, his body ripping through the gate faster than he can experience.

His back hits solid concrete, making him groan. It takes a second for him to blink away the dots in his vision, slowly sitting up. He can see your figure clearly, your sad eyes, the smile gracing your lips.

And then the gate starts to sew itself shut.

Your words are stuck on a never-ending loop, the bittersweet memory of your voice floating past his ears every morning he awoke since he lost you. It replays because his subconscious wants to torture him, remind him of everything he could have done but never did.

If he had just opened his eyes... If he had opened his eyes, you wouldn’t be trapped in the Upside Down. If he had opened his eyes, Jonathan Byers would still be alive.

The ceiling he stared at never crushed him like he wanted it to every time he blinked into to the realisation he was a failure. He couldn’t do anything right. Everyone around him would be better off if the murky grey ceiling caved in and buried him under its rubble.

And yet even with all his silent prayers, the building stayed steady, and he was forced to push himself out of bed and face the reality. He messed up, twice. And now everyone else had to pay for it.

Just as he pulled a shirt over his head, a drone of voices could be heard from the living room. He cracks open his door, Hopper’s rough words echoing loud.

“They’re forcing us to leave.”

Steve sobered up fast, quickly and quietly descending the staircase and rounding the corner to a view of, well, everyone. Hopper must have called everyone in for a meeting. Everyone but him.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, ignoring the looks from the Party. They always greeted him with such pity now, sorrow lacing their features like he was a kicked puppy that needed cheering up.

“Just in time.” Hopper greets, running a hand down his face. “The military are expanding the quarantine.”

“When?” Steve crossed his arms, frowning.

“Tomorrow morning.” Hopper sighs and Steve’s heart sinks. “Unfortunately for us, we’re close to the danger zone already. They want us packed up by tonight or…”

“Or?” Nancy prompts. Steve notices the worn expression she tries to mask, another shot at his chest. Losing Jonathan was sucking away her life force. And he did that to her.

“Or they’re removing us with force.” He says grimly, a few scattered mutters filling the silence. “They’ve tried keeping the monsters at bay but it’s a losing battle. I tried arguing, but they’re not looking for opinions. They’re doing a full sweep of the danger zone borders and moving everyone out. Our hands are tied.”

“What if we hide?” Dustin suggests, nodding wildly. His friends nod too, but with less conviction.

“Not that easy.” Hopper tightens his lips. “Our last search attempts for food have been failures. We won’t have enough rations to keep going even if we found a way to avoid the quarantine. The infestation is beyond our control without those gates. We’ll have to… give up.”

His eyes wander down to the map displayed on the table in front of him, staring at the crossed out circles of missed opportunities. The watergates, as the young boy had dubbed. And the pattern you found even when all hope felt lost.

“But we can’t find those gates if we’re not… here.” Dustin deflates as gravity pulls him back down to the suggestion in Hopper’s words. “We won’t find Y/n if we’re not here.”

“We can’t find her anyway.” Robin mutters, folding her arms tighter against her chest. Steve sends a curious look her way, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. He understands why she must be so bitter, losing her best friend like that- her only friend, as she had reminded him before. But he didn’t expect her to be this cold, even if it’s taking longer to find you than anticipated.

“I’m going to give the search one more shot.” Hopper announces, running a hand down his face. He clearly hadn’t slept, tone too low, his body slumping against the table as he fought against exhaustion. “If there are no rations left for us, we’ll have to pack up and leave with the rest of them. I can lead the search if no one wants to-”

“I’ll do it.” Steve steps forward, surprised expressions adorning everyone’s faces. Steve hadn’t left the house since they lost Jonathan, and he had made no suggestion until now that he was ready to do that.

“Kid-” Hopper begins with a sigh, but Steve shakes his head.

“It’s supposed to be my turn anyway.” She shrugs, ignoring his bubbling fits of anxiety growing in his chest. “No point sending too many people out in case it is a lost cause.”

“You can’t go alone.” He responds, brows furrowed. He knew better than to argue with him when they were running out of time. “That’s the rule.”

Steve mentally sighs. Who would want to go with him? The last time he led a mission, he fucked it all up.

“I’ll go.”

He grits his teeth. Great.

Billy emerges from the shadowed corner he had watched from, smirking at Steve as he approaches the table.

“I’ve been out there more than anyone, I know how to get into the stores undetected.” He practically boasts. Steve wanted to groan, a sickly feeling in his stomach when Hopper agrees without reservation. Does he know what Billy did to them last year?

“That’s settled then. You two head off when you’re ready. I think… I think I’m gonna head back up and keep searching.” The last part was mumbled under his breath as Hopper leaves the table and trudges back up the stairs. Steve stares almost mournfully after him. He was in so much pain and, even so, he would never show it.

Like father, like daughter.

“Ready when you are, buttercup.” Billy grins, folding his arms.

Steve bit his tongue, glancing over at a punchable face if he ever saw one. “Sure.”

He starts searching for a bag when a hand is thrust into his view, the very object hanging from their fingers.

“Take mine.” Nancy offers, and he takes it with a timid smile.

Since the mission, Nancy has barely uttered 5 words to him. Well, 7 now, which Steve thinks he should be grateful for. After all, if it had been Nancy searching for Jonathan, if it had been you caught in the crossfires of shapeshifters because Nancy wasn’t focused, would he have ever talked to her again?

“Thanks.” He says, and she walks away without so much as a second glance, heading for the staircase. She’s been more adamant on spending time with Will than he has been lately.

“Good luck.” Dustin calls when he reaches the door, Billy behind him.

“Don’t need it.” Billy responds, and Dustin purses his lips.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” He mutters and Billy frowns.

“What did you say?” He growls.

“I said, break a leg!” Dustin throws two thumbs up, grinning.

“And an arm.” Max whispers, and Lucas stifles his giggles.

“Whatever.” Billy swings open the door and steps out without so much as a goodbye. Although, Steve wondered who he’d be needing to pay his farewells too. The only person who seems to have ever shown interest in his care was, well, you.

“I’ll see you later.” Steve smiles at Dustin, the boy throwing out a salute that made him smile.

Even if Steve was stuck with his worst enemy, at least he felt like he was finally contributing something. Something Dustin could be proud of.

Maybe even something that could help find you.

This was a terrible idea.

They were an hour into their search and had been attacked twice. Once by a stray demodog, another by an infected – or rather, a demoperson as Dustin reminded them at every opportunity. Steve thought calling them infected felt more humane, even if a little on-the-nose. After all, they weren’t born like that.

On both attacks, it was made painstakingly clear that Billy didn’t care if Steve lived or died.

“What the hell, man?” Steve pants, planting his boot on the demodog’s back as he pulled his bat free from its flesh.

Billy was leant against a tree, arms folded as he watched with an amused grin. He had stayed that way even when Steve was struggling against the surprise attack. The demodogs were becoming more frequent, which could only mean a pack was nearby.

“You couldn’t have helped?!” Steve stresses, glaring at him.

Billy only shrugs, looping his shotgun back onto his shoulder. “We only shoot for emergencies, right? Don’t wanna alert the whole freak town that we’re here.”

“Right.” Steve grits his teeth, adjusting his backpack. “You always have an excuse, huh?”

“It’s called having a brain, pretty boy.” Billy smirks, nodding to his left. “This way should be clear. It’ll lead us straight past the Radio Shack and to the General Store. We didn’t make it this far last time so maybe we’ll get lucky.”

He doesn’t wait for Steve’s approval, gripping the strap of the shotgun and heading back down the road. Steve considered letting him go by himself, see how amusing he finds it when no one is helping him. But then he remembered he wasn’t an asshole, so he takes a breath and follows him.

When Steve saw the Radio Shack building, his whole body felt like it was in fight or flight. It looked so similar.

It was like he was still in the Upside Down, the vines coiling around the structure like a bad memory. It was tainted, his memory. Because as he looked at something that should feel terrifying, something that should make his heart beat out of his chest and wash a wave of dread over his head, he was utterly fixated by the idea that you could be in there, on the other side, waiting for him to find you.

“Harrington.” Billy snaps him out of his trance. Steve shakes his head. He felt like he was going crazy.

But what if he wasn’t? What if he was right? If he squinted his eyes, he could just force the image of someone walking around in there, a shadow that looked like yours. Maybe...

“She won’t be there.”

Steve pauses. He looks beside him but Billy isn’t standing there. He was stood just outside of the building, looking in.

“What?” Steve frowns. He doesn’t think he’s seen him look so… forlorn.

“Y/n.” He says softly, meeting Steve’s eyes and walking away from the store. “She would have answered the radio calls by now.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s dead.” Steve replies, shoulders tensing.

“Didn’t say that.” He shrugs, tilting his head. “But none of us really know. Apart from you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re the last one to see her before you’re conveniently safe on the other side.” He clicks his tongue. “I overheard Hopper talking to the Byers mom when you got back. He said you were muttering something the entire way home. Something about monsters.”

“Probably.” Steve shrugs, swallowing his nerves. “It wasn’t easy getting to the motel. We almost didn’t make it.”

“Almost.” Billy scoffs, chuckling darkly. “Tell me, Harrington… Why didn’t Y/n cross the gate with you?”

Steve shakes his head. “I-”

“You just said you almost didn’t make it. So did she almost not make it?”

“We got separated.” He says, gripping his bat tightly. “I watched the gate close before she made it through. She’s alive.”

Billy narrows his eyes, assessing the way Steve is trying not to react to his empty suggestions. He isn’t giving up on his story, and even Billy can tell Steve truly believes you’re still alive.

“Look, if you’re done being an asshole, how about we find some food so our friends don’t starve to death.”

“Your friends.” Billy corrects. “And don’t think everyone is buying your little story. I know you’re hiding something from us.”

“Just forget it, man.” Steve was turning around now, clenching his jaw.

“Oh come on, you really expect me to believe you passed through the gate without making sure she was there first? You always had that fake chivalry act going for you, don’t tell me you gave it up just to save your own ass.” Billy sneers, walking closer to him. “No wonder everyone’s been avoiding you lately, you couldn’t even bring back the one person they give a shit about-”

“Shut up!” Steve yells at him, a white-knuckled grip on his bloodied bat, “I don’t need you reminding me of how I messed up, okay?! I relive that moment every fucking day of my life and it hurts every single time!”

Billy seems surprised for once, eyes drifting to the left. He follows his gaze, startled by his own hand holding his weapon as if ready for a strike. He unclenches his jaw, letting his arm rest back down by his side and backing away, choosing not to comment on his sudden display of intended violence.

“Does the chief know you’re in love with his daughter?”

He pauses for a moment, wondering if he should answer. He bites his tongue. It was none of his fucking business.

When they finally arrive at their destination, Steve had never seen the General Store so empty in his life.

It was usually filled with everything you could possibly want. Well, as much as a small town in Indiana could use, anyway. From food, to tools, to craft supplies, the place was always packed to the brim and seemingly never ran out of stock. But this time, it was cleaned out.

A few stray boxes of cardboard littered the floor, the shelves bare of any supplies they desperately needed. They’re usual strike of bad luck was a lightning bolt to their last chance of saving Hawkins.

“I’m gonna check the back.” Billy announces, charging to the back door. Steve didn’t bother going with him; he already knew he wouldn’t find anything.

He remembers the Upside Down in this moment. The concerning lack of any hunger or thirst never crossing your minds as you wandered from place to place, chasing a ghost that never existed. When he had left, it had all come crashing down on him like a wave of sickness, restricting him to his bed until he didn’t feel weak anymore. Physically, at least.

He wondered how you were right now. Were you scared? Were you safe? Had the virus continued spreading? He hated he couldn’t see or hear you, that you weren’t here to satisfy his anxiety. He even hated that he needed you so much, the girl he couldn’t stand a year ago and now the girl he couldn’t stand to lose.

Goosebumps start to line his skin, prickling at his arms. It was probably a breeze of cold air, but Steve had remembered Joyce’s tales of feeling her son’s presence when he was on the other side. He kept imagining it was you beside him, letting him know you were okay.

Steve looks out of the window, heart leaping into his throat as he catches his reflection. It wasn’t his. A pale face, hollow and scorched at the sides, glared back at him, a tilted head of curiousness. When Steve blinks, he sees himself again, startled brown eyes and a messy mane of hair, nothing like the man he saw before.

“Nothin’ out back.” Billy’s voice drones back into the room, a hand running through his mane of hair. “You find anything?”

“Uh…” Steve takes another glance at the window, wondering if he could catch sight of the ghost haunting him. But with his own face staring back, he had to assume his sleepless nights had caught up with him. “No. Nothing.”

“Fuck.” Billy kicks an empty packet with his boot. “I knew this would’ve been the first place to be emptied.”

Steve takes another look around. He takes note of the shelves, moving closer. Dust was settled on the surfaces, drawing lines around bare shapes of cleaner wood and metal. He runs his finger across the lighter spaces, nothing clinging to his skin.

“Only recently…” He mutters, but Billy picks up on it in the stark silence.

“You saying someone got here before us? Like right before us?”

“Look around. The place is spotless. The shelves might be dusty but there’s a clean space where stuff has been taken. It can’t have been more than a few days since someone else was here.”

“Huh.” Billy raises an eyebrow. “I guess we’re not the only ones camping out in the apocalypse.”

A shatter of glass echoed from outside the building, startling them into their fighting stances. Steve’s bat was clenched in his fists as soon as the peaceful silence was broken, and the shotgun had slid into Billy’s arms once the glass hit the floor. They both stared out of the murky windows, an intense concentration on their faces.

“We hit nightfall.” Steve grits his teeth, risking a look to Billy. The boy’s expression was that of the same, eyebrows furrowed. They shouldn’t have been here this long.

“Well, shit.” Billy starts backing up to the doors, eyes glued to the darkening sky. “I guess we better find camp for the night. Preferably somewhere I’m not gonna get eaten.”

“The library.” Steve sniffs, adjusting his posture to face his companion. “It’s the only building left with a solid structure. I say we barricade ourselves in for the night and move out as soon as we can.”

“Nice to see you can use your brain, Harrington.” Billy says, gently opening the door with his shoulder and peering out. “We’re clear.”

As they leave the store, Steve feels like someone is watching them, his eyes constantly glancing back to the Radio Shack until it was far out of sight, an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something didn’t feel right but, then again, it hadn’t felt right for a long time.

Before they had even reached the library on steady footing, a clash of lightning burns the night sky into a crimson red, thunder rolling through the dark clouds. Their quiet footsteps splashed into puddles of rain, wet soaking their clothes as a storm started to roll in. The change in weather was a curse and a blessing; it restricted their safety of escape, but heightened their chances of evading monsters. After all, how could they stalk their prey when every sense was overwhelmed by the fury of mother nature?

For once, Steve felt like he made the right call. The library was still standing tall, vines slithered up the sides but weren’t quite strong enough to break the stone. The inside was empty, a few bookcases fallen and pages scattered, no sign of life in sight.

“I’ll take first watch.” Steve says, propping himself up against the desk, bat laid across his lap.

Billy didn’t object, setting down his gear and adjusting the dusty chair pillows they had pulled from the study hall into a makeshift bed behind the counter. He didn’t utter a word when he laid down, and Steve’s head fell back against the wood. As it did, he noticed something etched into the side of the wood from the corner of his eye, twisting his body to glance at it. ‘Save us’, it said. He gulped. Considering how empty the place was, it seems like it was too late for whoever wrote that message.

His eyes return to staring down the double doors like the cabinets they had dragged over wouldn’t hold. They didn’t last time he was in this position. And this time he wasn’t sure there was a single closet he could hide himself in. He just had to make sure he kept his eyes open. If he kept his eyes open, nothing bad could happen.

He sat there staring at the doors for hours, fingers mindlessly tapping against the handle of his bat until Billy’s rough voice called out behind him, alerting him that his shift was over. Steve’s eyes were heavy before he had even swapped places with him, head resting against the firm fabric on the floor. He wasn’t sure he would sleep, but his body overpowered his mind, pulling his subconscious elsewhere...

“Hey, we can get out through the window. Wasn’t rocket science, but I’m still a genius.”

He turns back to look at you over his shoulder, smiling. You’re currently near the far corner, your back facing him. You don’t seem to have heard him, breathing in odd intervals as you stare down at your hands.

“Y/n.” He tries again, louder. Your head twitches. Steve releases the latch on the window, fear flooding his entire body. He slowly steps away from the window, his eyes permanently glued to the back of your head, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

Trying again, his voice cracks under the pressure of speaking your name like it would warp the vicious reality he was living in.

“Y/n?”

You snap your head to him, and the colour drains from his face.

“No…”

He lost you.

The world bled to grey as tears start trailing from his eyes, staring into yours. Except, they weren’t yours. They were darker, soulless. Black blood was dripping from your chin, staining your lips.

“Don’t do this.” He begs, unable to find the force to speak louder than a whisper. “Y/n, please. It’s not- I can’t hurt you. You know I can’t hurt you. Y/n...”

You snarled at him this time, your mannerisms unnerving. It wasn’t you anymore...

You suddenly lunge at him and he instinctively dives for his bag, rolling away from your attack in the last second. He unzips it, staring down. He couldn’t do this.

Snarls and hisses spit from your mouth as you scramble up from the floor, blinking rapidly as you search in the dark.

Click.

Your whole body snaps to him in one sharp movement. With a shaking hand, he stares directly into your eyes.

“Y/n, please.” He sobs, “Please, you have to be in there.”

Not even the mournful pressure against his chest felt as heavy as the gun in his hand, tears rolling down his face.

“It’s me.” He tries again, hoping his voice could break you free from the virus. “It’s me. Steve. Remember?”

He should have known hope was never his friend. A voice completely alien to you rips out a screech from your throat, and hell comes to bludgeon him with the worst it had to offer.

Steve watches in horror as the skin starts peeling from your face, tearing it into pieces like a flower and its petals. Like a demogorgon.

It was too late. You weren’t coming back to him.

You run at him, sharp teeth bared, mind forever gone.

Steve’s eyes shut and he pulls the trigger, a sob echoing past his lips when the sound of your body hitting the floor fills the basement with regret. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, holding his breath.

His hands are shaking, heartbeat bursting into his eardrums. Steve starts to realise it’s a dream, that he had already lived this moment, that none of it had ever been real. It’s not real…

Even with his nerves on fire, he lowers the gun, hands feeling lighter the longer he remembers this never happened. He can open his eyes. He can force the image of your smiling face into his dream. He can make this nightmare disappear.

He opens his eyes.

And stares into the milky white pupils of a scorched face.

“Find her”

Steve jolts himself awake, blinking against the sudden light blaring through the windows. His heart was thumping out of his chest, the image of the ghost’s eyes burned into his brain. But it wasn’t the dream that startled him out of his sleep.

He hears Billy yelling, his instinct reaching for the bat at his side before it suddenly swoops out of view and a figure blocks his exit. When he turns his head to the looming shadow, his breath hitches, leaning back against the desk.

He wasn’t particularly fond of being greeted with a spear to his face.

It was held by someone in a mask, a brief flashback to his time in the tunnels suddenly thrown into his mind. The air, the kids had expressed. That was before any of them knew it wasn’t toxic. He took a quick glance to his side, noting the person currently pointing a matching spear at Billy, too, his shotgun kicked far out of his reach.

It was two against two. They could take them.

The door from the study opens and two more people walk out, discussing something under their breaths. His heart drops, jaw clenched in silent desperation. Fuck. He should have known nothing was ever easy.

When the others get closer, a new reason for his despair came to light, eyebrows furrowed when one of the voices droned on and on about their ‘key observation’.

He recognised that voice.

“Holy shit.” They laugh, pulling off their mask. Steve feels his stomach twist. “As I live and breathe, is that you, Harrington?”

Steve blinks. “Tommy?”

Lo and behold, Tommy Hagan stood in front of Steve with that bastard smile on his face and a dim light in his eyes. His hair had grown out to now brush against his shoulders, a faint smudge of dirt outlining where his goggles had been resting against his face. His clothes weren’t unusual to his high school attire, but it was covered in grime and faint smudges of blood. It was very clear that he had, much to Steve’s silent disappointment, survived the apocalypse. And he wasn’t alone.

“Wait, did you say Harrington?” The person beside him questions, head recoiling. It was a girl’s voice, sweet enough but hoarse around the edges, as if she hadn’t been drinking enough water. She turns her head to Steve before pausing. “You said he died.”

“He did!” Tommy exclaims, but the girl simply extends her arm in his direction as evidence that he was, in fact, not dead. “Okay, so I thought he died. Not my fault I got bad intel.”

The girl sighs, ready to argue.

“Oh my god, who cares if he’s dead or not, what the hell are we gonna do?” Another female voice, this time it sounded a little more mature. She currently had her spear pointed at Billy’s chest, the boy’s face twisting with some sort of humiliation at the realisation a girl had managed to disarm him. “And for fuck’s sake, put your mask back on, do you want to get ill?!”

“The air’s safe.” Steve finds himself speaking, all heads turning to him. “I mean, it’s not natural at all but it doesn’t make you sick. Getting bit makes you sick, is what I mean. If you’re, uh, talking about getting infected and stuff.”

“Are we really going to stand here all day?” She turns to the last person in the room, ignoring Steve and waiting for an answer.

This person had their spear hovering in front of Steve’s face, the pole shaking slightly as if they had never done this before. He doesn’t suppose they would have; they were just regular teens in a small town before the apocalypse started. Everyone had to adapt.

“I say we just spear them and get the hell out of here.” Tommy suggests and the girl beside him gasps. Steve, however, wasn’t so surprised. “What?”

“We can’t kill them. We’ve never killed anyone.”

“Fine, let’s just knock them out.”

“Shut up, Tommy, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” The other girl chimes in, and Steve could almost laugh. Even in an end of world situation, nobody wanted to be around Tommy H.

“I don’t-” Tommy huffs, shaking his head. “Who the hell saved you from a demon attack, huh?”

“And who got you new clothes when you shit yourself from the demon attack?” She retorts, the last words Steve manages to catch before they’re in a full blown argument.

“Hey!”

The person in front of him finally spoke, lowering their spear and stepping back. A male voice had ordered from behind the mask and, as he turned to his friends, Steve noticed a few stray curls peaking out from the collar of his jacket.

“No one is killing anyone, and we’re definitely not leaving them here.” He says, and the others seem to listen. He was their leader, Steve realised, and his word seemed to be final. The boy turns to him, tilting his head. “Are you serious about the air? It’s not lethal?”

“I wouldn’t be alive if it was.” Steve replies, and the boy sighs. He nods to the others, and they all lower their weapons.

“Sorry about this, we thought you were here to steal our stuff.” The boy apologises.

“I’m guessing you’re the ones that raided the store.” Steve says, accepting the hand extended to him and pulls himself back onto his feet.

“We gotta eat.” Tommy states, turning his head and widening his eyes. “Woah, Billy-boy! I almost didn’t recognise you, what with the whole being beaten by a girl thing.”

“Shut it.” Billy snaps, and the girl in question laughs.

“If it helps, you didn’t make it easy.” She offers before reaching behind her head to untie her mask, letting it fall into her hand and pushing her goggles to her head. “I’m Heather, by the way. I think we’ve met.”

Billy’s eyebrow raises, but he simply nods, walking over to retrieve his shotgun before any more of his dignity left.

“That’s Chrissy.” Heather introduces the other girl, her mask and goggles also secured around her neck now. Steve thinks he saw her in school before, but she was definitely younger, her wide eyes holding an innocence Steve hadn’t had for a long time.

The boy beside him also strips himself of his face coverings, resting the goggles in his messy mane of curled brown hair and smirking at the surprised look on Steve’s face. He throws his spear into his other hand, extending his free glove as an introduction that Steve most certainly didn’t need.

“And I’m Eddie.” He grins, relishing the reveal. “Although, you already knew that. Right, King Steve?”

Chapter Twenty One: Friends Or Foes, Part II coming soon...

[A/N: *once again in an aloneinthehellfire fic, eddie munson enters the arena*]

taglist: @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady . @pansexualhoor .

@kitdjarin1 . @chiliwhore .

[vodika-vibes]

I love your writing and I was so excited to see this event! I promise I am still rereading and reading all your new releases and each and every one gives me life! May I get a Fairy Tale AU with Rex? Maybe where reader is a second born princess, with a protective but very feminist older brother, who has encouraged her to train to defend herself. Rex is the captain of her guard and he loves her because they grew up beside one another and yet she’s promised to a prince who doesn’t swing her way? They’ve grown up and “grown up” with each other in every possible way and she loves him back but it must be secret? But the prince she’s promised to sees their closeness and realizes that the only way he’s not going to be miserable is release her from the betrothal and take her older brother’s hand in marriage (which he’s not complaining about because her older brother is sweet and wonderful and very much more so who HE’s interested in). And because her older brother is a real one, he unapologetically rewrites their governing laws when he takes the throne to say screw you I’m not providing an heir because I don’t fancy women and you wouldn’t accept any foundlings I adopt, when my sister marries her beloved best friend Rex, that little one will be my heir to the throne. Angst at the beginning because reader doesn’t know how she can have what her heart wants while fulfilling her royal expectations, Rex loves her dearly but doesn’t think he’s worthy of standing at her side (honorable and self deprecating King he is), and all along her cheeky older brother is the unsung hero bringing justice and love to them all. Even if this isn’t quite how it plays out when you write it, I know you’ll work your magic! 💕

My Lady's Choice

Summary: Rex has been in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember. And he knows that she loves him too, she tells him often enough. But he’s just a knight, and she’s been promised to another man.

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 1239

Warnings: None

Prompt: Fairy Tale AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hi there! Thanks for your request! I hope this is close to what you wanted! Also, sorry that it took so long, words haven't wanted to agree with me for a bit.

“You’ve been in a foul mood all day,” Rex notes as he offers the Princess another arrow, “What’s wrong?”

Her pretty lips become a scowl as she notches her arrow and draws the sting back, “Nothing.” She releases the string and the arrow flies true, striking the dummy in the center.

Rex watches her momentarily, taking in the tension in her frame and how her lips are turned down, and he sighs. “You might be able to lie to yourself and your brother, but you can’t lie to me.”

She hesitates and lowers her bow, “My betrothed is coming to meet me.” She finally admits, “My brother told me yesterday.”

Rex feels a pang in his chest, but he shoves it to the side. He always knew that he was going to lose her one day, he just hoped that it would be one day far in the future. “Well, perhaps you’ll like him?” He offers.

She tosses him a frustrated look, “I don’t want to like him.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.”

She whirls to face him, “I’ve made my choice. I made it years ago.”

Rex sighs, soft and slow, “Princess,” His voice is so softly pained, “I’m not an option. You know that.”

Her lower lip juts out and she lifts her chin defiantly, “I don’t care.”

“Princess,”

“I love you!”

Rex pauses and his heart swells with affection for the woman standing in front of him. He glances around and, upon seeing that they’re alone, he takes a step closer to her and brings his hand up to cup her face, “I know you do.”

There’s something almost panicked in her gaze, “And you love me?”

His smile spreads, “More than I can put into words.”

The panic settles into something a little steadier, and Rex lightly brushes his thumb across her painted lower lip, “Then why won’t you fight for us?”

“We always knew that this was going to happen, cyar’ika.” Rex murmurs, the familiar endearment falling from his lips without thought. “That someday you would be claimed by someone else, and that I would lose you.”

“No.”

She says it so firmly that Rex almost believes her. But then, she’s always been so sure that they would find a way to be them, even within the constraints of the laws.

“Cyar’ika,” Rex pauses, “Princess,” He corrects, “Maybe it would be best to end things before you lose everything.” It’ll break his heart, but he won’t stand here and watch her throw away everything that she has a right to because she was fool enough to fall in love with a lowborn knight.

The panic returns to her face, “Are you breaking up with me?” Her voice is small, fragile sounding almost, and Rex wants to kick himself. He knows, better than most, how his cyar’ika views herself. And why she’d view a breakup as a form of abandonment.

Rex presses his other hand to her cheek, “No. I said that I should.”

Confusion slides across her face, “Rex?”

“I should let you go.” He murmurs, “You might find happiness with your betrothed. But I don’t want to.”

“I won’t be happy with anyone who isn’t you.” She announces as she presses her hands over his.

For some reason, her announcement surprises him. Never mind that he already knew that. Never mind that he thinks the same thing.

He’s still shocked to hear her say it.

Slowly, he leans in and presses his forehead against hers, and a small smile lifts his lips when he feels her warm breath against his face.

Stars, he really does love her so much. 

Maybe he can talk himself into her guard after she gets married, that way they won’t be separated. And it’s not like she would be the first Queen who had a low-born lover after getting married.

It’s a horrible idea. And Rex knows it.

But he also knows that watching her ride off into the sunset with her betrothed will destroy him.

She leans in and catches his lips with hers, and Rex surges into the kiss, one of his hands moving to tangle in her hair as he adjusts her head to deepen the kiss.

He smiles into the kiss as she almost becomes boneless against him, her soft hands lightly gripping the plates of his armor to try and pull herself closer to him. She breaks the kiss before he does, her eyes closed and a small smile on her face.

She looks happy. Content.

He’d sell his soul to keep her smiling like that.

She opens her eyes and favors him with the warmest smile he’s ever seen, “Cyare?”

Slowly she reaches up and traces his lips, “I think I have an idea, Rex.”

Rex eyes her, doubtfully, “A good idea?”

Her smile widens, “Trust me.”

He watches her for a moment, and then sighs, “As if you have to ask,” Rex leans in and kisses her one more time, and then pulls away from her. It wouldn’t do for anyone to catch him kissing her, after all.

Rex doesn’t see much of his cyare for the next couple of weeks, a fact that makes him unbearably anxious. He knows that the wedding hasn’t happened, as there’s no way that he would miss that, but the constant meetings between his cyare, her brother, and her betrothed don’t bode well for his relationship.

When he does see her again, he’s a bit surprised.

Well, ‘a bit’ is something of an understatement.

The truth is, he almost doesn’t recognize her when she comes running up to him. She has a bright smile on her pretty face and her hair, normally pulled into a series of intricate braids, hangs loose around her head.

And she’s wearing civilian clothes. A tunic and comfortable trousers with boots, rather than the delicate gowns that she’s supposed to wear as princess.

“Princes—” Rex is forced to drop the training mat that he is supposed to be bringing to the salles when she flings herself into his arms. His arms wrap securely around her, supporting her weight as she wraps her arms around his neck.

She’s giggling as she bumps her nose against his, her grin so broad that it looks like it’s going to crack her face in two.

And, despite the audience, Rex can’t help but smile back at her, her good mood infectious, “Why are you so happy, cyare?” He murmurs.

“My brother has canceled my betrothal,”

“He did wha—”

Her hands come up to cup his face, “He’s also rewritten the laws, I am free to marry anyone I choose. And if the council of old people have a problem with it, they can take it up with him and his sword.”

“Cyare, what—?”

“My brother is going to marry my former betrothed,” She continues, “As it happens, my brother is more his type.” Her fingers slide over his short hair, “And, to keep the throne in the family, my firstborn child will be named heir.”

Rex stares at her, wide-eyed, and then a slow smile crosses his face, “So, that means—”

“—nothing is stopping us from being together.” She finishes.

That’s all Rex needs to hear as he crashes his lips against hers, no longer caring about their audience. Needing her as close as he can get her.

Looks like he’ll actually have a use for that ring he’s saved up for after all.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Can you do 32 from the 4th and 9 from the 3rd image? I’m thinking something with mafia Minho 🤔 Thank u babes if you do it

Skz Prompt Game

Prompts: "If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god."

"Can we just exchange three words without you pulling a gun on me?"

Member: Lee Minho

Relationship: Mafia!Family FemReader x Minho

Genre: Fluff, Light Angst

Warnings: Mentions of guns, weapons, mafia and illegal dealings, Miscarriage

You didn't show any emotion on your wedding day.

You wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

As the man who ruled the rival mafia-your future husband, Lee Minho-took your hand in his and slipped on a diamond the size of a small city in front of the priest and a few members of family, you remained stoic.

You knew this was coming.

Knew you'd be auctioned off as soon as you turned of age to the highest bidder, the rivals that had the most to offer your father in way of an alliance.

It just so happened that Lee Minho and his gang-known only as "The Kids" on the streets-happened to have all that and more.

And you were to pay the price.

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

"You really have to go yourself?" You ask once more, disappointment clear in your tone, as you watch your husband pack his suitcase from your perch on the edge of the bed.

Minho sighs, long and heavy, and gives you a regretful sort of look as he tucks another one of his highly expensive suits into the safety of the travel set.

"Yes. This is a huge deal that's going down, and I can't trust anyone else to handle it safely."

You groan and fall back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling through the thin gauze of the curtains that hang in elegant strips above the huge bed.

"I understand that. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it."

You hear him chuckle, and then the bed sinks beneath his weight as his knees come to rest on either side of your hips, his hands beside your head.

He stares down at you with a soft, slight smile as you hold his gaze with a half hearted glare.

"Baby." He soothes, reaching out to smooth the crinkle between your eyes, the frown on your lips. You can't help but lean into his touch. "I'll be back before you know it."

He leans over to press a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, and moves away again to resume packing.

"She's going to be incredibly disappointed you know." You try one last guilt tactic, sitting up and smoothing your dress as you glance over to Minho, who has paused to meet your gaze once more.

Something akin to regret washes across his pretty features as he sighs once more.

"I know. But it can't be helped." Zipping up the suitcase, he crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, and you relax against his warmth for a few blissful seconds while he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "I'll be back in time for the party. I promise."

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

"You won't be hurt." Minho murmurs beneath his breath, sitting beside you in the back of the expensive limousine, as you pull away from the chapel and toward his family estate.

You've only heard of its grandeur.

"I can't promise you affection, but you will be well taken care of."

You scoff and continue to stare out the window, because now that the wedding is over, you can feel the anger, the pain, threatening to well up and consume you.

"Exactly what a girl wants to hear from her new husband on her wedding day." You retort back sharply, and something in Minho's eyes flashes in response.

He takes in a deep, steeling breath and holds your angry gaze.

"It's all I can offer you." He says stiffly, turning from you finally to glance down at his phone, a clear dismissal. "And I would take it if I were you. You and I both know how dangerous this world can be."

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

"Mommy, look!" Your daughter bounds across the large back garden and shoves a flower into your palm, and you glance down at it with a smile.

"Oh, that's pretty!" You remark, reaching out to tousle her long, dark hair, the same color as Minho's. "Where did you get this?"

She motions over her shoulder with bright eyes and a grin. "Over in the flower bed! By the tree!"

You laugh and put a finger to your lips, carefully tucking the yellow flower behind her ear. "Let's keep that our little secret, hm? I don't think Uncle Felix will take well to us tearing up his carefully curated flowers. Not when it took him so long to convince daddy to let him plant them in the first place."

Your daughter nods seriously and sits down on the bench beside you, swinging her legs as she idly observes the garden.

"Where is Uncle Felix?"

"He had to go out of town with daddy." You remark absently, smoothing a hand over her long hair as you glance over to the tree line. "Where's SuSu?"

Your daughter instantly becomes alert, leaping up from the bench and running across the garden to where she was last playing, calling for the dog.

"Suwon! Suwon! Here boy! C'mere!"

You smile and shake your head as, after a brief second, the large dark doberman appears from the trees, bounding happily toward your daughter, nub of a tail wagging wildly.

He's a good guard dog, a great one even, but the moment you had had Yeong-Ja, he had become a softie for the little girl, sticking beside her like glue, keeping her safe, but playing with her when the times called for it.

You were grateful for the loyal dog whenever Minho had to be away.

Yeong-Ja runs back over once more, Suwon close on her heels, and you stroke the large dog's head when he rests it briefly in your lap, looking up at you with bright eyes, your fingers playing with the thick, spiked collar he wears around his neck.

"Well." You stand up, grabbing Yeong-Ja's hand. "Shall we go ask cook what's for dinner?"

She nods eagerly, and you laugh, tugging her toward the house with you, Suwon trotting happily along behind.

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

The floor creaks behind you and you whirl, gun pulled from the bedside drawer, cocked and ready, held in front of you.

Minho stands in the doorway, his hands in his suit pockets, a look of tired resignation on his face.

It takes you longer than you care to admit to lower the gun.

"Can we just exchange three words without you pulling a gun on me?" He asks with slight amusement, taking a step into the room as you eye him warily.

It's been three months-three months since your father had given you to Minho and his gang, three months since the emotionless wedding, three months since you moved into his ridiculously huge house.

Three months, and yet, you still felt your hackles instantly rise as soon as he enters the room.

You'd been adamant about having separate bedrooms, sleeping in separate beds, and up until this point, Minho had been compliant, but you didn't know how much longer that would last.

He was bound to snap and demand an heir soon-sooner rather than later.

"I have to go away." Minho remarks, staring out the window now, down onto the garden's below, his hands behind his back.

You watch him silently and he sighs, turning to glance back at you now.

"I'll leave someone here to keep you safe obviously, but I thought I owed you the courtesy of notifying you regardless."

"How kind of you." You spit out before you can stop yourself, and Minho's eyes narrow slightly.

He takes a step toward you.

"You don't have to like me, princess, but you do have to tolerate me. And when I return-"

"You'll want to share my bed." You finish for him, and something strange flashes across his expression before he gets it back under control.

"Yes."

You shrug and look away. "It doesn't matter to me. I knew the life I was chosen for long before it came to fruition."

Minho doesn't say anything else, and after a few moments, his footsteps leave the room.

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

"Good night, jagi." You kiss your daughter's forehead and tuck the blanket up around her chin, before you walk to the door and flick off the light.

"Good night, mommy." She whispers back sleepily, already closing her eyes, as Suwon sighs heavily and rests his large head on the little girl's chest.

You smile to yourself and tiptoe from the room, leaving the door cracked in case the dog wants to let himself out in the middle of the night.

Your foot has barely hit the first stair, when the sound of the front door opening hits your ears, and you freeze, hands going white on the banister.

You look to the clock.

It's nearly midnight. And Minho had told you not to expect him or any of the men back until at least tomorrow.

Which means someone is in the house, someone who isn't supposed to be.

Slipping down the stairs to the second floor, you silently find the gun that is kept in the side table on the landing-Minho insists on keeping one in every drawer on every floor-and creep down a few more stairs, your eyes peeled against the darkness of the house, looking for any sign of the intruder.

The sound of a footstep from the main floor, and you raise the gun, holding it steadily in front of you as you descend, listening for another sound.

Another creak, closer this time, as you reach the bottom step.

You take in a steadying breath and turn, cocking the gun as you do so.

The light goes on in the foyer, and Minho is standing there, eyebrows arched and hands up as he realizes you're holding a loaded and ready gun in his face.

"Hello, darling."

You let out the breath you'd been holding since you first heard the door open, and drop the gun, un-readying it and tossing it on top of the chest of drawers against the wall before you throw your arms around your husband.

He chuckles, chin resting on the top of your head, and his fingers move up to stroke through your hair. "I guess I should know better than to try and sneak in this late at night without giving you warning."

You pull back to look up at him, trying to manifest a glare, but too happy to see him to do much. "Yes, you should. I could've shot you!"

Minho smirks, leaning over to kiss you, before he whispers softly against your lips, "Mmm. I love it when you talk dirty, baby."

You shove against him weakly, but he just laughs and pecks your lips once more before he pulls back, moving to finish unloosening his tie.

You realize there's blood speckling the front of his white shirt, and he must notice your gaze, because he says before you can ask, "It's not mine."

You feel relief sag your shoulders.

Minho smiles again, tugging you back up the stairs, the way you had come.

"But I could do with a long, hot bath regardless."

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

"I'm not going to take something you're not willing to give."

You glance up from where you're lying in the huge king bed, picking at the expensive comforter, feeling more than a little exposed in the sleep set the maids had picked out before Minho arrived home.

It's little more than negligée.

He's staring at you, hands resting on the wooden footboard, knuckles white.

He's tense, cautious, unsure. You can read it in the stiffness of his shoulders, the flexing of his fingers against the wood.

You're surprised you know him well enough to pick all those signs out.

"Why?" You question back sharply, unable to control the slight anger in your tone, the confusion. "Others have."

Minho's eyes flash dangerously at your words, and you shrink, feeling sufficiently cowed.

But then his words drip from his lips laced in lethality, dangerous, and they're not directed at you.

"If you say the word, all you will have to do is tell me their names and I will hunt them all to the corners of the earth."

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape, and watch as he flexes and unflexes his fingers in harsh, angry movements.

Something inside of your chest picks up at his obvious fury over anyone mistreating you.

Without really thinking, you glance down at the blanket covering you, and then back up to Minho.

"Are you going to take your suit off?" You ask quietly, and it's as close to an acceptance invitation as you can get in the moment.

Minho stares at you for a second, and then slowly reaches up to unknot his tie.

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

"I'm glad you're back." You admit softly, playing with the rings on Minho's fingers beneath the warm surface of the water, admiring the way the opalescent sheen of the bath oils reflects off his tan, scarred skin.

"Mmm." He hums in agreement, nuzzling his nose against your damp hair, breathing you in. "Me too."

"Yeong-Ja will be thrilled." You remark, leaning your head back against his shoulder to study him, a soft smile on your lips. "We didn't expect you till tomorrow."

"I know." He glances down at you, his expression softening as his eyes meet your own, and he lets out a rueful little laugh. "I've gotten soft in my old age. I used to live for the thrill of taking care of things myself, but now I just count down the minutes till I can return home to the two of you."

"Careful, Boss Lee." You tease, reaching up to push damp hair off his brow, admiring the perfect slope of his nose. Yeong-Ja had gotten the same one. "Someone will hear you talking about being weak and scheme to take you out."

Minho leans over to press a kiss to your mouth. "Never." He growls playfully, and you laugh.

Sinking down beneath the warm water, you bask in his presence for a few minutes in silence, playing idly with his fingers where they rest on your thighs, and then you ask quietly, "Did everything go alright?"

Minho sighs and rests his chin heavily on top of your head. "As well as could be expected. We had to put a few of the transfer drivers back in line, but nothing we couldn't handle."

You snuggle closer to him, pressing a kiss to his arm. "Good. I'm glad."

Minho makes a noise of agreement in his throat and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Me too."

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

It's taken six months for Minho to finally trust you enough to let you be part of his meetings.

Six months, and you're now standing behind his chair silently, trying to keep track of all the plans, as the men at the large table in front of you argue over their next move.

"No way in hell that'll work." Changbin declares, crossing his broad arms over his chest and glaring Hyunjin down across the table. "It just won't."

"It's better than anything you've come up with." Hyunjin argues back, and Jisung rolls his eyes, sliding a map across the table to Seungmin.

"Min, try and decode where they're gonna buy next while these two dumbasses argue?"

Seungmin nods silently and begins to type away on his laptop.

"We don't know that they won't double back like they've done before-and then, if we're waiting on the route down-"

"That's dumb as fuck! Listen to yourself, man!"

"If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god."

"Okay, okay." Minho booms, and everyone goes silent, looking to their leader.

You have to give it to him. He knows how to command a room.

"We've got the beginnings of a solid plan." Your husband announces, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a brief moment, as if he's fighting a headache. "Let's work from there and see where it takes us."

Everyone nods silently, and the men start to push back from the table, leaving the room.

Minho sighs, leaning his elbows on the large meeting table, and you try to resist the urge to go to him, to help, but your body doesn't listen to you, and you find yourself stepping forward, tentatively putting a hand on one of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly, and Minho turns to stare at you curiously.

"Whatever for, princess?"

You glance away, your cheeks red. "I'm sure you're stressed. My father is breathing down your neck, and now there's this problem with the shipments, and I haven't become pregnant-"

Minho's gaze hardens slightly. "You never need to apologize for things you can't control. Not to me."

You stare at him, mouth agape.

"I don't know if your father made you do that for him-knowing the bastard, I'm sure he did-but you don't ever have to grovel at my feet for mistakes that are not your own, princess."

Something warm and truthful settles over your body at his words.

Minho turns back to the plans laid across the table, a slight smile pulling at his lips now.

"But if you have any bright ideas for what the fuck I should do here, I'm all ears."

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

"Remember when you gave me Suwon for the first birthday of mine that we ever spent together?" You ask Minho, watching your daughter play happily in the garden with the dog in question and some of her new birthday gifts.

Minho chuckles, his arm around you, as he glances over at you with a smirk. "Of course I remember. I hated him for the first year and a half."

"You did not!" You protest, ribbing him in the side, even as he laughs and pins your hand between the two of you easily. "You just put up a front."

Minho rolls his eyes good naturedly. "That dog shit on our carpet and ruined more shoes than I could count."

"He was a puppy!" You complain, but you're biting back a smile.

"A very expensive puppy, who ruined very expensive shoes." Minho retorts right back, an amused look in his dark eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." You wave him away, sniffing and turning to watch Yeong-Ja put a sun hat on the long suffering dog trying to nap beside her in the shade. "But he's a good dog now. You have to admit."

"Maybe." Minho remarks idly, gaze going to your daughter and the dog beneath the tree. "Yeong-Ja loves the damn mutt, and that's good enough for me."

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

Felix finds you first after the maids had mentioned not seeing you all day, curled up in the middle of the bed, sobbing silently.

Minho had been away on some business, but the minute Felix called him, he made it home in record time.

When he bursts through the bedroom door not twenty minutes later, you can't even bring yourself to look at him, curled beneath the comforter, your arms wrapped around your middle.

Felix hadn't touched you, he hadn't dared, but he'd stayed at the side of the bed until Minho arrived.

"Don't touch her." Minho commands almost wildly and Felix steps back, holding his hands up in obvious compliance.

"Call a doctor." He barks out at the retreating man, and Felix leaves the room without another word.

The bed sinks under Minho's weight, and you shuffle further beneath the safety of the blankets.

"Princess. Look at me."

You hesitate, but do as he says, and Minho's feral expression of worry softens slightly as your teary gaze falls on his.

Immediately, the walls you've been building up crumble, and you're crying again.

"I'm so sorry, Minho. I don't know what happened-"

Minho doesn't even bother shucking off his shoes or his suit coat, he slides into the bed beside you, beneath the cover of the blankets, and tugs you into his arms, stroking your hair methodically as you continue to sob.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay."

"But there's so much blood-" You whimper out, and you don't dare to look beneath the blanket for fear of what you'll see.

"I know." Minho soothes, brushing the hair back from your forehead, as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head. "But the doctor will be here soon."

"Minho, the baby, I swear I didn't know, I swear it-" You're hysterical now, and everything hurts-your body, your mind, your soul-and Minho is there, strong and steady, stroking your hair, tugging you against his chest, whispering reassurances.

"I know, baby. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

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

You're sitting in the kitchen, watching Minho help Yeong-Ja make pancakes, when it hits you.

This life is nothing like what you thought it'd be.

And yet, its more than perfect.

Yeong-Ja laughs as Minho swipes batter across the tip of her nose, and Suwon excitedly barks around their feet, begging for scraps and happy to be included.

Minho glances over to you across your daughter's head, and gives you a wink.

He was right. It all turned out okay.

And in this moment, you're thankful that nothing ever worked out as planned.

It's even better.

[garbinge]

Motion Sick

Angel Reyes x F!Reader From these August Prompts:  “I don’t usually get motion sick but— oh, I think I’m gonna puke.” A/N: Hope you’re enjoying the fic a day challenge with me! Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy. Fluffy but light angst.

Mayans MC Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705

It was the middle of the day and you were traveling back home from a club errand with Angel. You might’ve had the day off but Angel didn’t and you figured if you were gonna snag anytime with him alone this was going to be it. Things had been busy between the club and the scrapyard. There wasn’t even a point in asking Angel if the errand he was running was for either because it likely had to do with both. All you knew is Angel had mentioned needing to take a ride to Santa Ana in the morning before he left your house and you met him at the clubhouse and hopped in the passenger seat of the van without any argument on his side. 

Angel didn’t mind the company, if anything he enjoyed it. These days it was rare you two got to do anything together besides roll over and shake the other to shut off the alarm so taking a ride together was like a date on the town for you. 

The ride up was smooth and quick, both of you wanted to get the errand done as soon as possible so that the rest of the day was your own without any responsibilities lingering over your head. The way back was more enjoyable. Angel took the long way back down the Pacific Coast Highway to give some romance to the trip, opting to stop at a whale watching point because he really wanted to spend as much time as he could with you. It was nice, it was something that had been missing between you two lately and this was his way of acknowledging it. 

As you got back on the road you started to fidget in the passenger seat. Finding a comfortable position was making itself hard as you moved around. 

“You alright? You can’t sit still.” Angel looked over at you as you switched to your 4th position in the last minute. 

“Yea, just feel uncomfortable. I don’t know what it is.” You frowned and leaned forward to grab the handle that would easily adjust the seat back in hopes that would help. 

“You think it was the lookout dock? The waves and shit making you sick?” The worry grew in his voice as he slowed down on the highway, taking the opportunity to look at you longer verse the road to get a better understanding about what was going on. 

“I don’t know, I don’t think so. We were on solid foundation not like a dock or anything that was moving. Maybe I’m just getting antsy from the ride.” You brushed off his concern.

“Look, maybe you just need a break, we can stop and get some fuckin’ food or some shit.” Angel was starting to argue with you now, not out of spite, but from a genuine place. “You’re probably just motion sick. We’ve been in this van for a minute.” He had already begun to pull over at whatever food stop was coming up before you could put up a fight but it didn’t stop you from trying. 

“I don’t usually get motion sick,” your hand lifted to wave him off to continue driving until you almost immediately brought it to your mouth, “oh– I think I’m gonna puke.” 

Luckily the car was stationary as you opened the passenger door and vomited out of it. Angel thinking quickly to lean over and pull anything out of the way of your upchucking. 

“Damn querida. I thought you didn’t get motion sick.” He said when you finally stopped and used one of the napkins that was shoved in the side pocket of the car to wipe your mouth off. As he spoke you turned to him and lifted your middle finger which made him laugh. 

“I feel like shit.” You closed your eyes and leaned back in the seat. 

“You need anything? I’ll get the food to go, we can grab a spot in the grass or something, I’m sure we got a blanket somewhere back here.” Angel went into full solution mode. 

“If I sit on any blanket that’s in this van I’ll end up sicker than I am right now.” You let out a chuckle and let your head fall to the left to stare at Angel. He was on edge, you could tell. His arm was on the steering wheel and his body was twisted to look back at you. “Why don’t we find a convenient store, like a CVS or Rite Aid or some shit, I think I’ll get better if I get my hands on a gatorade and some saltines.” 

Angel was moving in seconds, he had put the car in drive and you were about to argue it but he spoke up. “I’m just moving it up a couple feet so you don’t step in your own vomit.” His smiled openly. 

“Angel the angel.” You teased him as you stepped out the van. 

The convenient store was close, it was a matter of minutes before you both entered the air conditioned building that was playing some top 40’s radio station through the speakers. The cold breeze already had you feeling better, the club van didn’t exactly have the best AC for an old overused vehicle. 

“Grab what you want, I’m gonna see if I can get you some of that motion sickness shit from the pharmacy, half the shit on the PCH is behind lock and key.” Angel placed a quick kiss on your head before walking towards the medicine aisle. “Oh and maybe pick up some Listerine or toothpaste!” His whole body turned around as he kept walking backwards with his nose scrunched up. 

That earned him another middle finger and a headshake, although, you knew he was right. Toothpaste and a toothbrush was the first thing you were grabbing on your way to grab the essentials but he didn’t need to be annoying about it. 

As you entered the toiletry aisle your eyes scanned the shelves. Mouthwash was first, and while it was a viable option, you knew brushing your teeth would be a greater benefit for both of you. As your eyes moved to the toothpaste, you saw the travel brush and paste kit and grabbed the first one you saw before walking down the rest of the aisle. You browsed the rest of the aisle, taking your time not wanting to leave the cooled store anytime soon. As you looked around your eyes stopped on a box of tampons. That’s when it hit you like a tons of bricks. The speed at which you took your phone out your backpocket was unmatched, all just for your thoughts to be confirmed by the date displaying on your phone. You were late. 

Without a second thought you grabbed the pink box that was to the right of the pads and tampons and flew to the bathroom. Luckily it was on the opposite side of where the pharmacy was so there was no chance you were going to run into Angel. 

3 minutes was beginning to feel like 3 days with how long it was taking. You had grabbed the digital test, which was likely the more expensive one but at this point you didn’t care. You stood over the sink staring at the flashing lines waiting for words to pop up on it. You could’ve taken the time to brush your teeth but you felt like if you took your eyes off the test, you’d miss something. 

You heard the digital beeping and the words appeared across the screen. 

Pregnant. 

“Holy shit.” 

You weren’t exactly sure how to feel but before you could really even process it, you were stepping out of the bathroom and looking down the aisles for Angel. 

He was in the toy section, gatorade and saltines in one hand and a squishmallow in the other. 

“Hey look! It kinda looks like Sally right? I know it’s a seal but they got the same fuckin’ eyes.” Angel held up the gray stuffed animal and compared it to his little brother’s dog. 

As you walked over to him and said nothing his smile started to fade. 

“You get sick again?” He asked a follow up question. 

Without saying anything you held up the pregnancy test for him to see. It took him a couple seconds to process what you were showing him before he was picking you up in the air in celebration. The squeal that left your mouth was full of shock but the laugh that came after was genuine. Angel was clearly excited about this and that sent a wave of relief through you that let you enjoy this. 

“Alright, alright, put me down you’re gonna make me sick again!” You spoke through another laugh. 

“What happened, I thought you don’t get motion sick.” His voice got deeper as he mocked you and put you down. 

“Yea I don’t, but apparently your kid does.” 

Angel’s smile grew even bigger at that sentence. You leaned over and grabbed the squishmallow from him and made your way to the front of the store to pay for everything you two had gathered up. 

“We gettin’ that?!” Angel lightly jogged to catch up to you. 

“Baby’s first toy?” You squished it against your front in a hug. 

Angel brought you into his side, throwing his arm around you as he left a soft his on the crown of your head. 

“Yea, baby’s first toy.” 

[ash5monster01]

Hi dear!! I absolutely loved your Pink fics so much! I hope you can think about doing a cute fluff on him with him saying this prompt "Maybe I am a little bit jealous. But who wouldn't be?" to his best girl friend & all his friends know he’s head over heels for her but she’s somehow oblivious to it and finds out later on!

<33

Can’t You See?

Pairing: Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, jealousy, minor angst, brief plot, best friends to lovers, no use of y/n

Summary: Oblivious to Pink’s feelings it takes one odd night to finally come to your senses. In the end neither of you could be happier.

word count: 1.1k

Masterlist

You jump as your locker slams shut in front of your face, some lip gloss smudging along the inner corner of your lip. Your eyes instantly land on the suspect beside you, a cocky smirk painted across your best friends face. You glare at him quickly, finger immediately fixing the makeup error as you shove the lip gloss away with your other hand.

“Don’t you have a class to actually attend?” you sneer, now free hand dialing your combination again to reopen the locker. Pink just grins, arms crossed over his chest.

“Free period” he explains, not the least bit affected by your annoyance. In fact he was a bit amused by it.

“Then do you need something?” you ask, grabbing the books you need and shutting the locker yourself this time.

“Was just curious if you were going to the Emporium tonight?” he smiles, nodding his head and already planning to pick you up. He’d spend all night cruising just the two of you, it was one of his favorite things in the world.

“Actually no, I have a date” he can’t stop the way his face falls, shock filling him and not expecting this answer to come from you.

“A date? Why, we always do something on Fridays?” he sounds desperate, he hopes you don’t notice. He just never thought there would be a day you actually went out with someone other than him.

“I was asked and he seems sweet. Why, you jealous?” you tease and Pink nervously chuckles, trying not to show how jealous he actually is.

“Maybe I am jealous, but who wouldn't be?" he says with the shrug of his shoulder, feigning as much of his jokester and friend personality your way. You don’t catch on to the nerves or the fact this is the truth.

“Whatever Pink, I’ll call you tomorrow. You can tell me all about the Emporium then” you tell him, holding your books tightly to your chest and starting for the class you were now late for. Yet Pink just watches you walk away, a little hurt you were going out with someone else and disappointed in himself for not making a move sooner.

Sadly the date doesn’t live up to its expectations, you now walking alone from the Top Notch in the direction of the Emporium. The guy had been kind and ever the gentleman but you never really clicked. He talked about chess nearly the entire time and maybe it was interesting but you didn’t know how to play. So when he offered to drive you home you denied it, hoping Pink was still at the Emporium to drive you instead. In fact you had wished it was him with you the whole time, that way the conversation wouldn’t have ever been lacking in any way.

“Hey, you made it!” Slater is the first to greet you, sat against the curb and smoking probably his millionth joint of the night. You smile at him before nodding your head inside.

“Our good friend Randy still around?” you ask and Slater snorts, nodding his head.

“Yeah he’s been moping over the pool table all night about your date. How was it by the way?” you’re confused what Slater means but you chalk it up to the marijuana, choosing to answer his question instead.

“It was fine, I’m gonna go find him” you say and Slater nods as you step into the Emporium, a haze of smoke and loud rock music filling the building. This was where you should have been all night.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here” Don says, passing by you with hands full of beer. You furrow your eyebrows, confused why your absence had meant this much.

“I didn’t realize my attendance was imperative” you say and he snorts, nodding his head back where you finally spot Pink leaned against a wall. A beer in hand and sad look on his face.

“It is tonight. If I have to listen to Pink whine anymore about this date I’ll go insane” he says and you keep your eyes trained on your friend, him not noticing your appearance just yet.

“I did’t realize it was such a big deal to him” you say and Don shakes his head, a knowing smile on his face.

“Wake up doll, that boys in love with you. Now take him out of his misery and ask him on a date instead” he nods his head in the direction of the boy. It’s then Pinks eyes catch your own, his features easing and form standing up straighter at the sight of you. It makes your heart stutter and it hits you then how you had wished it was Pink every time you were on a date, because it had always been him.

“Thanks Donny” you grin, stealing one of the beers and taking a swig before heading your best friend’s way. His smile grows wider and wider the closer you get and it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Hey, I thought you were on a date-” but you don’t answer the question, your lips pressing against his own and cutting him short. He’s shocked for only a moment before easing into it, his arms wrapping around you and holding you close.

“Screw my date, I’d rather be here with you” you say when you pull away and Pink smiles so wide you’re certain it has to hurt his face. He doesn’t even respond as he intimates the kiss this time, hugging you tight. It’s then your friends erupt in cheers around you, thankful you finally caught on.

“God this night couldn’t get any better” he says and you smirk, hand lacing with his own. Determined to show him it could.

“We’ll see about that, let’s get out of here” and he doesn’t hesitate to follow you out of the building. Letting you guide him to his car where you slide into the drivers seat and don’t give him much room to join. He had dreamed of having you pressed against him as he drove around town on a night like this. Now it was finally going to happen.

“What made you pick me?” Pink asks as he starts the car and you smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek and snuggling close.

“I didn’t pick, I just finally realized it would always be you” you tell him and he just smiles, backing out of the parking space and driving with no destination in mind. He didn’t need to go anywhere as long as you were by his side.

“It’s always been you too”

[seiya-starsniper]

25.finding comfort in their scent from the prompt list?

Whooooo I finally managed to put together something for this! I kept accidentally veering off into angst territory ahahahaha. I promise this is all straight fluff though 💖

blossoming romance writing prompts

---------

Hob knows the exact moment when Dream enters his flat.

He is sick as a dog, running a fever hovering dangerously close to 39C, and he’s fairly certain the cold medication has given him some sort of hallucination about betta fish swimming around in the air.

Even still, though his eyes are heavy and he cannot smell a damn thing through his congested nose, Hob is somehow able to smell Dream.

Dream smells of ozone and petrichor, of starlights and sunsets, and everything in the world Hob has ever loved or found beautiful. He wonders if the anthropomorphic personification of dreams is just supposed to smell that way, like some sort dream come true.

“Hob Gadling,” Dream’s voice reverberates from within his bedroom. Hob didn’t even hear him pass the threshold. “You are unwell, according to my sister.”

Hob snorts, remembering the time Death had spontaneously shown herself in the middle of their now monthly meetings at the New Inn. Hob had nearly fled out of his own skin once he’d realized who she was, which only made her laugh. She reassured him that Hob’s life was his own, and she’d only ever come for him if he personally asked for her. Then she’d left as cryptically as she came, only saying she had an appointment to get to.

“I’m not going to die from a cold,” Hob snuffles, peeking out from underneath the duvet. “Surely things can’t be that dire unless there’s something you’re not telling me, Dream.”

Dream huffs, and Hob catches the barest hint of a smile. “It is not Death whose realm you were visiting,” the Endless replies. “My youngest sibling, Delirium, sends her regards.”

Delirium. Hob thinks. Well, that would explain the flying betta fish.

Suddenly, there is a coolness on Hob’s forehead, and he realizes belatedly that it is Dream’s hand. He barely bites back a groan of relief. He hadn’t realized just how overheated he’d become.

“You are feverish,” Dream murmurs. “It would be best for you to take your rest in my realm.”

“Unless you can magically cool down my whole body my friend,” Hob replies cheekily, “I don’t think I’m getting to sleep any time soon. Hand feels pretty nice though,” he adds, his thought to mouth filter utterly failing him in this moment. 

“You underestimate me, Hob,” Dream rumbles, and before he even knows what’s happened, Hob drifts off entirely.

He wakes in a field of green. There’s no fever, no congestion, and more importantly, no overwhelming dizziness. It’s peaceful here, and despite never having seen this place before in his life, Hob knows he’s been here before. 

Hob catches a whiff of starlight, and then turns his head to smile up at his oldest friend. 

“Has anyone ever told you how nice you smell?” Hob asks, clearly no longer caring for propriety.

Dream’s lips quirk in amusement before he takes a seat on the grass next to Hob. “And what do I smell like to you, my friend?”

“Hmm,” Hob contemplates for a few moments. “I suppose you smell like the universe.”

“How utterly vague of you,” Dream replies, deadpan. “Clearly the fever has rendered you unable to articulate properly.”

“I’m serious!” Hob exclaims, playfully shoving at Dream’s shoulder. “There’s no words to describe you. How you remind me of stars and moonlight and thunderstorms all at once. How you smell like the night sky before light pollution ruined everything. Or how you smell like my mum’s homemade stew that I’ve long forgotten the taste of. You just…you smell like everything to me.”

Hob watches then as a pink blush crawls up Dream’s neck, before slowly blooming across the Endless’s face. 

“It has been some time,” Dream says, averting his eyes from Hob’s as if suddenly shy. “Since someone found comfort in my presence.”

Has it? Hob wonders. He’s always found Dream comforting.

“I’ve always found you comforting,” Hob hears himself voice aloud at the same time. In for a penny, in for a pound, he guesses. “When everything else faded or died, there was always you. That’s always comforted me, even on my worst days.”

“Then I must apologize once more for depriving you of that comfort 33 years ago,” Dream says replies, sounding morose. 

“But you came back,” Hob answers, smiling. “And that’s a comfort all on its own.”

They fall into silence then, simply content to enjoy each other’s company. Hob doesn’t know what it is, but he knows something has shifted between them, here in his oldest friend’s realm. The dream itself is shifting too. Where there was once only endless fields of green, there are now flowers springing up from the ground, beautiful and yet otherworldly in their appearance. He reaches out to caress the petals of one of the blooms, not hearing the slight gasp it elicits from right next to him.

The last thing Hob smells before he wakes up is roses.

[barbex]

Happy Friday!! For DADWC, can I get "you're more than that," from the angst/fluff prompt list for Fenders?

Thank you for this prompt for @dadrunkwriting! Once again, I could have kept writing these two forever.

---

Have you seen him?" Merrill whispers to Hawke, but Anders hears her anyway. He also notices how Hawke glances at him, before she whispers something in Merrill's ear. 

Hawke looks at him again and Anders huffs, "What do you expect me to do? He killed his master, now he has to figure out what's next. Nothing I can help him with."

"I just thought... you two have been getting along, lately." Hawke stares into her ale. She doesn't even see how Anders scowls at her. 

"Right, just because we don't rip each other's heads off anymore, doesn't mean we're friends, suddenly."  

"I always thought you should be great friends," Merrill says with a little sing-song in her voice.

"Usually, friendship comes from not hating each other and one not trying to kill the other." Anders has a lot of different arguments he could present but somehow... Hawke and Merrill look at him with big, doey eyes... "Fine, I'll stop by before I go home. If I don't show up tomorrow, look for my corpse in a desolate mansion in Hightown."

Merrill giggles. "He's not going to kill you. He likes watching you, and he doesn't know what to do with that."

"You're sweet," Anders says, "but you don't know what you're talking about." He drains the last bit of bitter ale and pushes away from the table. "Keep me in your thoughts, I'm on my way into the lion's den."

Merrill giggles again and Varric wishes him luck as he walks out. He makes it through the barroom without anyone groping him or asking for healing, which may be a good sign. Or maybe not, maybe this was all of the luck the Maker granted him for tonight. Contemplating his luck, he arrives at the dark mansion, looking brooding and dangerous, just like its occupant. 

He shoves against the door with his shoulder. The door has not lock, not anymore, but with the broken door frame and the rusted hinges, the door doesn't open easily. "Fenris, it's me, Anders. I'm coming in."

"Go away." It hardly sounds like Fenris' voice. He sounds defeated. 

Anders ignores the order and steps into the giant hall that holds a fireplace and single stuffed chair. Why he likes spending time in this cavernous hall is beyond Anders, "I'm the official 'check on Fenris' emissary. I'm meant to make sure that you live and consume anything else besides wine. The last bit isn't quite true, that's my own concern." He steps closer. "Have you eaten anything?"

"No."

"Well, lucky for you, being a warden and a mage means I'm nearly always hungry and I try to keep something on me for emergencies." He searches in the pocket of his coat for the paper wrapped delights of nuts and chocolate one of his patients brought as payment. "Here, it's fresh."

Fenris wrinkles his nose at the brown ball resting on a piece of paper in Anders' hand. "You mean I should trust anything coming from a pocket in that coat?" 

Anders looks down on himself. "Because it's a mage coat?"

"No, because it is filthy."

Anders shoves the tasty delight in front of Fenris' face. "The one living in a rotting mansion should not talk shit about a good, clean coat. I wash this coat, regularly, and this food was wrapped. Unless you have any other food in the house, you're gonna eat this."

"Why?" Fenris pushes himself up, swaying a little as he stands. "I don't have to listen to any mage's orders anymore."

"No, and you never had to with me. These are healer's orders, nobody can deny them." 

Fenris stares at him with his mouth open and then, the corner of his mouth twitches and something that almost sounds like a giggle comes out of his mouth. He quickly looks away, as he doesn't want Anders to see it. "If I eat it, will you cease your prattling?" 

"Sure." Anders heroically controls his expression, nearly bursting out laughing when Fenris takes the delight and stuffs it in his mouth. His expression softens as he tastes it. "This is good."

"I know." Anders takes a step back and leans against the fireplace. "Next healer's orders are to drink some clean water, but take your time."

Fenris falls back into his chair, huffing like an angry toddler. "Why must you be here and annoy me?"

In a way, Fenris is still young, going through emotions and experiences like a teenager. Anders thinks back to how he was, young, stubborn, angry at the world. He shudders, he does not wish to relive that time. 

"Listen, I'm gonna take a wild guess what's going on with you and you tell me how far I'm off, alright?"

Fenris makes a lazy hand movement.

"Alright, here it goes. Right now, you're lost. You achieved your ultimate goal, your revenge, and now you don't know what to do. You feel like you're all alone, nobody knows you, and you don't even know yourself."

When Anders looks back, Fenris stares at him with his mouth open. He snaps it shut and rests his elbows on his knees. "It seems you are more observant than I thought." 

"No, I'm just old." He pushes away from the wall and steps closer to Fenris. "Now, keep listening. First of all, you're not alone, fucking ramshit, that. You have friends, and I'm here because they all worry about you. Secondly, you're free, you have options. Find a new goal."

With lightning speed, Fenris jumps up and presses Anders against the wall. "Did you not see how I killed him? I'm a killer, that is all I know. He may be dead but I am still the weapon he made me."

Anders holds himself very still. "You're more than that. You are an exceptional warrior but you're free to learn whatever you want."

Slowly, Fenris' hands sink down. "I don't know. What can I learn?"

With a long breath, Anders puts his hand on Fenris' shoulder. "I don't know, you could try a few things. Knitting, painting, gardening. You could help... maybe Hawke needs to build something, or..."

"Or what?" Fenris still stands close and Anders is very aware, with every fiber of his being, that he touches Fenris, that his hand is only separated from Fenris' skin by a thin shirt. 

"My clinic, you could help in my clinic. It's not, like, glorious, I mean, people are filthy, illnesses are not fun but helping people" — he meets Fenris' eyes, amazed at the openness in his expression — "helping people is good. It's its own reward."

"You think I can help?" 

"It'll probably be a lot of cleaning and washing but..." Anders wants to swallow his next thought but he can't. "I thought, your phasing ability, maybe there could be medical applications for that, like setting a broken bone, or removing an arrow head, or if a baby is breached you could... ah, maybe it's a stupid idea."

"My abilities could help?" The plain astonishment on Fenris' face makes him look so young, Anders just wants to pull him into his arms. But he also values his life, so he holds himself back. 

"We could at least try." He smiles at Fenris, gauging his reaction. "It'll still be mostly cleaning and washing though." 

"I understand." Fenris nods and looks at his hands. "With or without the phasing, I can help."

"Yes." Anders squeezes Fenris' shoulder. "But first your healer orders you to sleep, eat a healthy meal and drink nothing alcoholic for at least a day, before you come to help at the clinic." 

A smile spreads on Fenris' face, bright and happy and enough to stop a man's heart. Anders hurries to step away, walking over to the frontdoor. "You will come, yes?"

"Yes," Fenris says. "I promise to follow the healer's orders and I will come to the clinic in two days to work." 

"There won't be payment, but Lirenne makes great sandwiches."

"I look forward to it."

Anders waves at Fenris, not sure why he does, and walks back to Darktown. That worked out better than he expected.

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 10🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, spanking, oral, Smutt, blood/gore 🩸

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.7K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 10! I can't believe we've gotten this far! There's still so much we're learning about these two and it's only getting more complex by the day. A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

There's a lot going on this chapter that I've been wanting to include in a chapter at some point but haven't felt like its the right time. First off, when I first had the idea for this fic, I was curious when the first vampire myth came to be. It turns out it started out in Ancient Greece and a "vampire like being" was created by the gods. It fascinated me and I knew I needed to incorporate it into my story somehow.

Second, I have a soft spot for Elvis singing gospel. I know I needed to add a meaningful song to the chapter to show his vulnerability and You'll Never Walk Alone came to my head. When Elvis recorded this, it is actually him playing the piano in the recording. While this isn't technically a gospel song, it was written by Rodgers and Hammerstein for the musical Carousel but you can see how Elvis might have interpreted it as so. Take a listen if you want 🤭

I wanna say thanks to those of you for reading from the very beginning or, if you somehow stumbled across this one late night on Tumblr or Ao3 and decided to give it a shot. Your enthusiasm about this little story makes my heart sing so thank you!

If you’d like to start reading from the beginning, start here. 🩸

Thank you again! Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs.🖤

You shake your head at him, watching him give you that sly smirk that you love so much, knowing that he has you in the palm of his hand. He leaves the bedroom with the door open and you follow him to see where he’s run off to so quickly. You grab the pajama top and put it back on you, buttoning the first few and following him into the next room. 

He’s standing by the small bar and opens a bottle of water. You walk to him leaning over the ledge as he hands you the glass. 

“Here honey,” he says smoothly. 

You take a sip, not realizing how much you need this. He comes around the bar to sit on the stool, drinking you in. He had his pajama bottoms on but left his chest exposed, giving you the best view imaginable. You look him up and down as he does to you and press your lips together, fighting the smirk forming on your face.

You step in between his legs, rubbing your hands up his chest gently, gliding around his neck, then up to his hair. He murmurs contently, but you pull at his hair harshly, making him grunt. 

You get close to his ear, “Take this out of me. Now.” You growl. 

“No. Not yet,” he says smugly, laughing softly. 

“What do you mean not yet?” you hiss. “I’m not having you play with me like this.”

He puts his hand around your neck, softly squeezing it, and makes you look at his dangerous eyes.

“Yes, you will. Trust me, you will listen to me,” he boasts.

“No, I won’t. You forget that I can resist your… charm,” you smirk at him, knowing that’s going to piss him off. He hates that you can’t be compelled by him and shoving it in his face is the icing on the cake. 

He squeezes his eyes closed in a frustrated manner and opens them back up facing you intensely. 

“You’re going to be the death of me hmm? Just never going to listen and constantly test me?” He grumbles rubbing his thumb lightly over the bruise on your neck. 

“Hmm… yes that sounds like a marvelous plan. Can’t let you get too comfortable,” you tease. 

“Using my own words against me, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he quips, running his fingers through your hair. 

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” you tease. “But first do something else with this,” you grunt, taking your finger and pulling the ring out of you, pushing it against his chest, your slick covering it. 

His eyes light up in shock and stares at you. You know you’re pushing it, he likes to be obeyed but something in you loves to get a rise out of him. It’s all dangerous though, his mood is so drastic especially when he’s hungry so you have to watch yourself. It’s been two days since he fed and you’re unaccustomed to how he acts when he does need to eat again. Can’t be worse than the first day you two met so you think you can handle anything. 

He doesn’t grab the ring right away, just looks at you like he could pin you down in one swoop and make you beg for his mercy. His eyes grow dark and his lips form a pompous look, waiting for your next dangerous move. You decide to grab his hand and slip the ring back on his ring finger. 

“There you go sweetheart,” you say mockingly, walking away towards the bathroom to wipe the slick in between your thighs. In the blink of an eye, he is in front of you again, towering over you, his breathing heavy. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He seethes. 

“I’m not leaving if that’s what you’re thinking. You don’t have to break the doorknob again,” you taunt. 

His face drops and his eyes turn fiery. “You are unbelievable. Someone ought to put you in your place,” he rasps.

“I know honey. Put me on top of the piano again and show me how to behave,” you quip, rubbing your hand against his cock making him hiss in frustration. 

He quickly picks you up and puts you over his shoulder. You gasp and try to get out of his grasp but he’s far too strong compared to you. He takes long strides to the guest room and puts you down on the bed face down. You put your arms out quickly to brace yourself but he roughly grabs your wrists, putting them behind your back. You protest and continue to try to wiggle out of his hand that is grasping onto both of your wrists, keeping you still. You rest your forehead on the bed and let out a frustrated grunt. 

He pulls at your hair to turn your head to the side and leans down into the crook of your neck. 

“What did you think that kind of behavior was going to get you? You just like gettin’ me all riled up, is that it?” He hisses. You know you’re gonna get it, your little game has now turned into his and he loves to win. You feel him nip at your neck causing both of you to grunt. 

“Maybe a little,” you whimper. 

He doesn’t like that answer. Not one bit. 

He grunts and takes another nip at your neck. 

“I know I can’t make you listen to me, but I’m gonna have to teach you to listen to me,” he growls. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but that’s when you feel it. 

His hand moves up to scrunch your pajamas out of the way and giving you a spank on your ass. You’re in shock and the stinging left behind on you makes you gasp. 

“Elvis don’t you dare!” You squeal out. 

“You’re gonna listen to me from now on won’t you,” he asks, giving you another spank. 

Your eyes water, not used to the feeling of anyone hitting your backside like this. He gives you another spank, letting out a breathy grunt. 

“Elvis!” You squeal. 

He pulls at your hair again, making your head lift from the bed. 

“Are you gonna listen? You gonna be good for me?” 

“Mhmm… most of the time,” you grumble, gasping for air. 

His hand comes down again but this time, a little moan comes out of your mouth instead and a new wave of pleasure begins to pour over you. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point that Elvis has unlocked another spark of pleasure you didn’t know existed before him. 

Now you want him to spank you, turning his little game into your pleasure.  

He murmurs contently,“Mhmm thats what I thought. You liking your punishment now honey?” He growled. 

“Your hands feel too good on me to be a punishment,” you gasp.

He gives you one last spank and you can’t help but moan louder. 

“Oh fuck, baby,” you groan. He squeezes your ass and places a kiss in the crook of your neck. He moans too and his fingers graze your folds, wet with arousal. 

“Jesus, such a naughty girl. I should put something in your mouth for saying such vulgar things.” He grumbles.

“Mhmm, I think that would be the appropriate punishment,” you tease.

He lets go of your wrists and turns you around to face him towering over you, your back laying on the bed, and your legs wrapped around his torso. He has a string grip on your thighs and has a big grin on his face when you look up at him. 

“You just can’t behave,” he growls, his thumb lightly pressing on your clit making you jump, still very sensitive. 

You shake your head no at him, batting your eyes at him. 

“Don’t be mad at me. I’ll be good. I’m sorry,” you whimper. His thumb continues to tease and you feel yourself get wetter. You watch his almost drunk eyes look at your weeping pussy and watch how he wants you to himself all over again. He pulls down the waist band of his pajamas and takes his cock out, hard once again. He really wasn’t lying that he never gets tired…

“Show me then. Show me how sorry you are,” he commands. His voice makes you quiver and you know what he’s asking for. You adjust your body on the bed and lay on you stomach, your forearms popping you up. You lick the tip of him softly, making him sigh with satisfaction.

“Please, forgive me baby,” you whisper before you wrap your lips around his head and suck, taking more of him in your mouth gradually. His hips buck into your mouth, wanting to fill you quickly with his length. You moan out, loving the way he’s so eager.

You know what he likes and know what will get him to come unglued the fastest. Your hand reaches for his balls, massaging them lightly. He bucks his hips into you again, causing you to gag around him.

“You fucking naughty girl,” he moans, placing his knee on the bed to move easier. You lick and suck more, groaning when how he puts more of his cock down your throat, making your eyes water.

“Sucha good girl. Relax your throat and let me fuck it some more,” he growls, taking a fist full of your hair in his hand and moves in and out of you. Your hand continues to touch his balls, getting him to let out all these animalistic grunts. 

You let him move, feeling how he won’t last that long with how you’re touching him and the way he’s moving inside you. You place your hand on his shaft that’s not in your mouth and jerk him off, licking and sucking his sensitive head.

He keeps groaning and cursing your name, getting so close.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum, right in that pretty mouth of yours,” he moans, moving his hips a few more times before he releases in your mouth. He fills your mouth quickly and makes you fall apart too with the sounds he’s making. You can’t help but gag around his length and moan with how he’s using you. It’s so dirty but you couldn’t care less. He was yours. All yours. 

He pulls his cock out of your mouth and watches you swallow everything he gave you. You smirks at you, pulling your body up to kiss you.

His lips devour yours and has his hands back on your body, consuming your bare flesh. You moan into his mouth loving how he feels on you. He slips his tongue into your mouth and deepens the kiss further. He feels like heaven as he touches all the parts that only he knows you like to be caressed.

He briefly pauses, giving you some air. 

“You’re good at apologizing,” he groans, going back to give you another kiss. 

You nod your head in agreement, “oh I’m glad you accepted the apology,” you quip. 

He smiles down at you, “So bad. You’re so bad. I like a good girl,” he teases. 

“Well, you’re going to have to deal with a bad girl then,” you say, your voice sultry. 

His hands squeeze your ass, pushing your body more into him. God, you’re a mess because of this man. He knows how to make you weak at all times and half the time he isn’t even trying. You’re addicted to his attention and his body and the way he makes you feel. It’s all never enough. You don’t know where this is going to end up but all you know is you need him at all times. Probably not the same level as him but in terms of being human, you didn’t want him to go away and leave you.

He smoothly pulls you onto him, having you lay your head on his chest. His skin melts into your warmth and makes you want to fall asleep on him. You feel so content here and you two wallow in the silence together. The longer you lay there, a chill runs through your body and his body temperature starts to make you shiver. He tries to hold you tighter but it isn’t helping. He grabs the blanket at the edge of the bed and covers your body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s fine,” you says, wrapping the blanket tighter around you.

You adjust your head on his chest and your ear presses into where his heart is and for the first time, you hear his strange heartbeat. It’s so faint, barely obtainable by your ears and his slow breathing makes you realize how inhuman he really is. 

All of him is a facade that is made to please his victims. It’s so strange feeling and touching him knowing what you know now.

Thump…….silence……. 

Your hand trails up his stomach to his chest, placing your hand over his heart and look up at him surprised.

“I know,” he says, looking at you like he knows what you’re about to say. 

“Your heart… It’s so, quiet,” you whisper.

“Mhmm, it doesn’t work so well anymore,” he mumbles, kissing the top of your head, “Don’t worry about me.” 

“Is that how it always is? So… dormant,” you say softly.

“Yes. Ever since I’ve been bit. It’s also affected by how much I umm… eat,” he says carefully.

“I didn’t know. There’s just so much I’m finding out for the first time with you. You have to understand this stuff freaks me out a bit,” you explain.

He wraps his arms around you tighter, trying his best to comfort you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this. You should have never found out. I should have never laid a hand on you, maybe then this all would be so much easier,” He says sorrowful.

“Honey, that’s not what I mean at all. I’m so happy with you. More than I have been in a very long time but it’s just this new bomb has dropped that you’re not really who I thought you are is going to take some time to get used to. I only found out two days ago that you’re…,” you say sheepishly when he cuts you off.

“I know baby, I know. I wish I could be different for you. Be exactly who you deserve but I can’t help it.” He says defeated, slowly lifting you up off his chest and getting off the bed, feeling the mood of the room drastically shift. 

You know he is this very powerful being that has abilities beyond your wildest dreams but as he looks down at you, sorrow filling his eyes, you see how fragile he really is. His stature is slouched, and his eyes look tired and gaunt. You want to comfort him, reach out and tell him everything is going to be alright but in reality, you don't know if that’s the truth.

“Baby, please come lay with me. I don’t want you to go. I didn’t mean to upset you,” you plead.

He looks at the clock on the wall and it reads midnight. “Maybe you should get some rest. You haven’t been sleeping well so I’ll leave you alone,” he says weakly.

You try to protest but he’s already out the door, softly closing it behind him.

You let out a frustrated grunt. You couldn’t sleep even if you tried. You hated seeing him hurt and wished you could make him forget all of his self-hatred.

You can only understand a fragment of how he felt about himself and how he felt when he looked in the mirror. He made this life-altering decision and now thirteen years later, does he regret it?

Does he regret it because you are now in his life?

Are you the reason he thinks differently about everything?

You don’t know but you also need to figure out what to do about this situation. There was one thing you knew for certain; you wanted him. You want him like no other person on this planet. You don’t think you wanted Daniel like this the you two were first seeing each other. These were two very different situations but they still affected you deeply.

That was another thing you had to figure out was how you were going to move out of that apartment and where you were going to live next. You didn’t want any confrontation with Daniel. There was no point in it and you made up your mind. Leaving was going to be the best option for both of you and maybe you could start the next chapter of your life freely.

You knew Anna wouldn’t mind letting you stay a little longer to figure your shit out. You were thankful for her and her kindness. Oh shit. 

You took her car when you thought you were going to just talk to Elvis. Now it's been days later and you haven’t even called her.

Shit she’s gonna kill me, you think.

Your chaotic thoughts swirl in your head and you panic. You see a phone on top of the dresser and quickly scramble out of the bed and reach for the phone. You start to dial her number and glance up at the clock and it is already half past two. She was definitely fast asleep but you needed to talk to her.

The phone rings a couple of times and the sound her her groggy voice fills the receiver.

“H-hello?”

“Hey Anna, it's me,” you whisper.

“Y/n? Are you okay? I’ve been so worried about you. What’s going on?” She asks.

You pause and take a deep breath. You know Elvis is probably listening with ease to your conversation so you know you need to choose your words carefully.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I haven’t called… things have been… hectic,” you admit.

“Y/n I know when something is wrong. What’s going on?” She asks more firmly.

“I can’t really tell you specifics… but I’m sorry I took your car. Let me come by and pick you up for work so you can have it back,” you suggest.

“Okay, we’ll talk about this later, see you at 5:30. Just let yourself in with the key. I’m glad you’re okay though, I was worried sick.”

“I know, I’m sorry again, I’ll see you soon I promise,” you say before hanging up. 

You fall back onto the bed again, staring up at the ceiling, feeling crushed by guilt.

You try to take a nap but it feels too hot and too cold at the same time. An hour passes by and you’re restless. Elvis hasn’t made a sound in a few hours and you were curious what he was doing.

You put your pajama top on again and peeking out into the living room. You see piles of books scattered about on the tables and sofa. You decide to pick one up, curious about what he’s reading. You sit down on the sofa, scanning the mess of literature in front of you.

The thick, red, leather-bound book felt ancient, the pages were so thin, that you had to be extra careful touching them. You scan the pages seeing what this one is about. In the text, it explains, what a vampire is:

“The main characteristic of vampires is they drink human blood. They typically drain their victim’s blood using their sharp fangs, killing them slowly and turning them into vampires. Making the victim bite them in return to complete the process.”

A chill runs up your spine as you read these details of what these pages tell.

“Vampires are typically said to be of pale skin and range in appearance from grotesque to preternaturally beautiful…”

Yeah, that one is pretty obvious he’s supernaturally gorgeous.

You pick up the next book and thumb through the pages, reading the ancient lore of the first vampire showing up in Ancient Greece that was cursed by the Gods. This surprised you because you thought stories of the Greek Gods were just a fable, something that was made up. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to comprehend that stories are no longer myths and probably have more truth residing in them than you think.

You start to read the story of Ambrogio, a young adventurer born in Italy and one who longed to travel to Greece. When he was old enough, he set sail to Greece and traveled to the Eastern area of Delphi.

This was the home of Apollo’s temple, God of the Sun. When he was visiting, Ambrogio met an Oracle who would sit in a chamber within the temple and speak prophecies inspired by Apollo to those who came to seek the Oracle’s wisdom.

She only repeated: “The curse. The moon. The blood will run.”

It kept him up all night, worried about what the Oracle meant. He went for a walk and he saw a beautiful woman dressed in white walking to the temple. He stopped her and she told him her name was Selene and was the maiden of the temple. Her sister was the Oracle and would take care of her when she would be working. For the next few days, Ambrogio met Selene before she entered the temple and they fell madly in love.

On his last day in Greece, he asked Selene to marry him and return with him to Italy. She said yes and they agreed they would meet the next day at dawn outside the temple.

But this entire time, Apollo had been watching. He too loved Selene and grew enraged that Ambrogio would come to his temple and steal one of his maidens away. At sunset, Apollo appeared to Ambrogio and gave him a curse that from this day forward, the mere touch of Apollo’s sunlight would burn his skin.

He was terrified and had nowhere to go as the sun would burn him as soon as the sun rose. He hid in a cave that led to Hades. Hades, the God of the Underworld, listened to his cry for help and made him a deal. If Ambrogio could steal the silver bow of Artemis and bring it back, he would grant him and Selene protection in the underworld. As collateral, Ambrogio had to leave his soul behind with Hades until he returned with the bow. If he didn’t return with the bow, he would have to live in the Underworld forever, never seeing Selene again.

He took his bow and arrows and set out on his mission. He had no parchment to write to Selene what was going on, so he shot a swan, using its blood for ink and taking a single feather to write a poem to her. He did this for forty-four days, never missing a single day.

On the forty-fifth night, he had one arrow left and shot at a swan and missed. He felt hopeless and cried for help. Artemis, sister of Apollo and the Goddess of Hunting and the Moon, heard his cry. He begged her for one arrow to write Selene a note and she took pity on him. She let him borrow one silver arrow and he quickly ran to Hade’s cave to deliver the object to him. Artemis realized what was happening and cast her own curse on him; for silver to burn his skin.

Ambrogio begged for her forgiveness and explained the curse Apollo gave him and his undying love for Selene that he didn’t have any choice but to do what he had done. She pitied him and decided to give him one last chance. She offered to make him a great hunter, almost as great as she was, with the speed and strength of a god and fangs with which to drain the blood of the beasts to write his poems. In exchange for this immortality, he would have to agree to a deal. He and Selene would have to escape Apollo's temple and worship only Artemis forever. The catch was that Artemis was a virgin goddess, and all of her followers had to remain chaste and unmarried, so Ambrogio was never allowed to touch Selene again. They could never kiss, never touch, never have children. He quickly agreed and left a note to Selene at the temple to meet him at the docks and ran away before Apollo would notice he was there.

She met him at the ship and she found him hiding in a coffin, sheltering from the sunlight. They sailed to Ephesus where they would live many long and happy years together. They stayed faithful to Artemis and never touched or kissed. While he stayed the same after all those years, Selene grew old and ill and was on her deathbed. He couldn’t bear to see her die and knew he would not be with her in the afterlife since his soul still resided with Hades. He ran to the woods and found a white swan and shot it, offering it to Artemis, begging to make Selene immortal like him.

Artemis thanked Ambrogio for all their dedication to her after all these years and would make him one last deal. He could touch Selene just once - to drink her blood. Doing so would kill her mortal body, but from then on, her blood mixed with his could create eternal life for any who drank of it. If he did this, Artemis would see to it that they stayed together forever. Ambrogio was terrified and didn’t want to do it, but when he explained this to Selene, she begged him to bite her. He had no choice but to bite her and took her blood into his body as he watched her body be lifted up to the sky where she met Artemis on the moon. She beamed with brilliant light where Artemis granted her to become the Goddess of the Moonlight, where her rays of light would shine upon everyone and her beloved Ambrogio.

This story left you in shock, the story of the first vampires on this earth were made by the gods? So much information flooded your head and you needed to borrow some of these books from Elvis. In a way, you thought it was beautiful, the way he made her immortal out of his undying love for her even though he thought he was cursed for all eternity. They got to spend forever together. You wonder how they turned other people into, what would later be known as, vampires.

You easily could sit here the rest of the night sifting through all these books but you should see where Elvis ran off to. You call out for him but hear nothing in the suite. You check his bedroom and it is untouched and quiet. You decide to see if his men outside know where he ran off to. You grab the blanket from the bedroom to wrap around you since you don’t have any pants on and don’t need any wandering eyes on you. 

Opening the door, a man is standing outside of it as usual.

“Hey, where’d Elvis go?” You ask.

“Downstairs, in the ballroom,” he says without turning around.

“Can you get out of the way so I can get through the doorway?” You say ticked off, pushing past him to get out of the suite.

His frame is stiff and rigid just like Elvis’ and you can feel his cold temperature brush off you.

You stare up at him in bewilderment.

“Oh my God, he turned you? Didn’t he?” You say in shock.

He takes a moment to pause and remove his sunglasses. His eyes were dark, almost black, just like how Elvis’ got.

“Yes. Do you always ask so many questions?” He grumbles.

“Fuck you. What floor is he on?” You snap.

He takes a deep breath before answering, “First floor. Make a right out of the elevator to the door that says Ballroom 1.” He says annoyed.

You push past the rest of the men that you now know are vampires and get into the elevator. How many other people has he turned? Did they have any say over the matter? Or was he so thirsty he couldn’t control himself…

You pinch yourself, stopping from creating these awful scenarios in your head.

You get off the elevator and get out, going down the hallway til you reach the ballroom doors. Quietly turning the knob, you look into the room. It was filled with chairs and musical instruments and you hear the soft playing of a piano. You step inside fully and close the door, finding Elvis with his back turned toward you, dressed in his robe, black pajama bottoms, and wearing his slippers.

When you walk through a storm

Hold your head up high

And don't be afraid of the dark…

His voice rings out flawlessly, it makes you have chills as you have never heard him sing live before. Something about his voice in person is better than any recording could ever capture. You watch his long fingers dance over the ivory keys, pressing delicately and letting the beautiful music fill the room. 

At the end of a storm

There's a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark

You make your way further into the room. He never fails to keep you in awe of him. Even though he saw himself as a monster, you saw him like a Greek God. Perfect in every way. From his chiseled jawline to his perfect nose, there wasn’t a flaw you saw on him. Every inch of him was perfect and you wanted to make him see that. “Cursed,” or not, you were entirely enthralled by Elvis Presley.

You stand behind him, your hands trail down along his chest making him breathe deeply and he leans back into you.

He inhales your scent and grumbles, taking another breath before singing the next line. 

Walk on through the wind

Walk on through the rain

For your dreams be tossed and blown

… Walk on, walk on

With hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone

He plays the last few notes and leaves them ringing out on the grand piano. He sits there still, not making a sound.

“That was beautiful honey. You sing it so soulfully,” you whisper, kissing his neck.

He lets out a low growl, “You should have stayed upstairs.”

“Hiding from me isn’t going to solve your problems. Talk to me,” you plead.

“I just wanted to play without disturbing you. You need your rest,” he says.

“I can’t rest when I know you’re upset. The song was beautiful. You sing with so much love in your voice,” you praise.

You see his face crack a smile when he hears this from you.

“Thanks… Gospel music makes me the happiest. It’s what I first fell in love with. Sometimes I sit here and play for hours, trying to get God to listen to me,” he says weakly.

He turns to look at you, tears filling his eyes, “Do you think God can forgive me? For what I’ve done? For who I am?” He looks so fragile, wanting love and acceptance from God. From you. He still had so many human qualities even if he didn’t see them. He was insecure just like the rest of us. Wanting love and acceptance no matter what we do in life. 

But he wanted to hear acceptance from you in particular.

You had heard he was very religious, but now that he was… well, no longer human, you didn’t know how he felt about religion.

“Oh, honey… I don’t know much about religion… I frankly don’t know much about anything in this world anymore, but from what I’ve gathered, He’s a forgiving God. I think He can forgive you too.” You assure. 

He adjusts his legs on the piano bench, turning his body and putting each leg on the side of the bench to look at you. He looks into your eyes expectantly, “I don’t think so baby… I’m not good. I’ll just always be this,” he says exasperated looking down to the floor.

You take his face in your hands and make him look at you.

“You’re a lot better than most men. Trust me on this. I know you’re trying your best to be better. I see it,” you press. “

He shakes his head at you, taking your hands off of him, and squeezing them lightly.

“Honey, please, I can’t have you touch me right now. I don’t trust myself,” he grunts.

Your heart aches for him, frustrated he sees himself so evil.

“Baby, please. I trust you, I know you won’t hurt me.” You assure him, putting your hands back on his face. He lets out a content sigh feeling your skin on his.

“Honey, listen to me. I- I- shouldn’t. You need to know something. Before anytime I’m around you, or make love to you, I need to drink blood. Just so I can have some sense of control around you. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says weakly.

This made a lot of sense actually, how he would sneak off into his bathroom, his eyes becoming brighter and less clouded before he’d have you. 

“You’re okay. I trust you. I need to be with you,” you beg.

You place a kiss on his forehead, taking in his scent. He continues to look down, looking more defeated than you’ve ever seen him. You hate seeing him like this. He’s not listening to you and you need to make him. A bold rush comes over you and your hands trail down his chest to his torso where his robe is tied. You pull at the bow and watch his robe come apart, exposing his chest with the long gold chains hanging down on it.

His blue eyes meet yours and he looks at you cautiously.

“Honey, please,” he sighs.

You won’t listen to any of his protests, you’re so focused on him, determined to get him to forget all of his self-doubts and have him let you love him. You bring his hands to your hips, making him squeeze you gently.

“Touch me,” you whimper. He sighs frustratedly, looking up at your pleading eyes.

You drop the blanket and slowly unbutton your pajamas, flinging it to the side, watching his eyes get distracted by your breasts in his face. You straddle his hips and sit down, kissing his cheek, and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands travel down to your ass and push you into his frame firmly. He grunts getting to feel your body like this and the response you give back to him.

You can feel his cock growing harder the more you tease and kiss his face. You nip at his neck, just as he does to you and he growls. “Goddamn it. You’re killing me,” he grunts.

You keep teasing him, softly rocking your hips into him, loving it as much as he does.

You pull at his hair to get him to meet your eager lips and kiss him passionately. He moans into your mouth and puts his hands in your hair. You pull away to get some air and his attentive mouth is licking and sucking on your breasts. Your eyes shut and your jaw slacks open as he sucks on your nipple, sending shock waves of pleasure through you. Your hips continue to grind on him and feel his length rubbing your core. This friction felt so good on you and you let out the moans you don’t want to hold back. This extreme amount of need flows through you and you don’t want to wait any longer. You can feel the arousal seep out of you and need him to feel what he’s doing to you.

“Let me fuck you,” you whisper in his ear, reaching underneath his robe and scratching down his back. He cusses under his breath and grumbles.

“Baby, I can’t… I can’t hurt you,” he professes.

“You’re not. I know you won’t. I want you to make me feel good,” you say with a roll of your hips. You reach for his hand and guide him to your wet folds. He groans when his fingers make that discovery and instinctively rubs his fingers on your clit, then teasing your entrance lightly.

“I need you,” you plead. 

He grunts heavily and sucks on your neck moaning your name, making your core throb. The way he moans your name should be illegal with how unglued you become and makes you feel like you’re on fire. “Please,” you continue to beg, “you know how long it’s been since you’ve fucked me?” You say in a moaning breath.

He groans, pushing your upper body away from his at an angle with his hand on your lower back, pressing his face into your breasts and nipping and sucking on them. This makes you moan and squirm too, loving the response you can get out of him.

“Yes, I do,” he pants,“ Five days. Five days since I’ve been able to stuff that tight little pussy and make you scream my name,” he grunts, making your core grind into him. You groan and feel your heartbeat start to race in your chest, his words making your core throb immensely. 

You stand up, hooking your fingers into his pajama bottoms, and slide them off. His cock springs free and you straddle him once more, taking him in your hand, rubbing him firmly.

“Do you want to do that, honey?” You whimper, weak already from this notion.

“Please, fuck me, baby,” he grunts, lifting you up and lining himself up to your entrance.

You love how needy you’ve made him and want to make him a puddle just as he makes you.

You sink down on his length, taking all of him quickly and you groan when you feel him stretching you, filling you so completely. 

“Holy shit. Oh, fuck baby,” you pant, your fingernails embedding into his shoulders. You move faster than you normally would, wanting to fuck him like you have never before.

His hands hold onto your hips tight, bringing you down on him hard and fast.

Both of your grunts fill the room and he feels too good, making you come apart faster than usual. You squeeze and claw at his biceps and moan out his name. He holds your hips still as you adjust to him. Rocking your hips back and forth, you feel how insanely good he’s filling you never wanting this to end.

He pushes his hips deep inside you, making you cry out in shock.

“Oh fuck yes baby, just like that,” he groans.

He places his hand on your lower stomach and pushes there. He’s added this new pressure inside you and you look at him in shock, having never felt like this. Your hips grind into the base of his cock, making you want to come.

“Oh God honey, y-you’re so deep inside me you’re killing me,” you gasp.

“Mhmm, keep moving,” he growls.

Your eyes roll back and you squeeze your eyes shut, letting all your instincts take over and fuck this perfect man underneath you. You can feel your walls begin to flutter the more you bounce on him, cussing his name like he’s your savior. You feel his hand wrap around your neck, making you pop your eyes back open.

“Look at me. Look at me when you’re fucking me,” he groans through his teeth, possessiveness rolling off of him like a tidal wave. You lock onto his eyes as his hips buck into you, taking you harder and faster. You can’t take much more of this, you feel the coil in your belly about to snap and the pressure added by his hand on your stomach makes you feel like you’re going to combust. You scream out his name, having to shut your eyes, getting too overwhelmed with each thrust.

His hands slide to your breasts, squeezing them firmly, his intensity blazing off of him. 

The sounds you two are making shouldn’t be allowed and being quiet isn’t an option for you. 

His hand grabs your jaw, making your eyes open again. 

“I said, look at me. I want to watch you come apart,” he groans, putting his hands back on your hips, helping you thrust on his length. 

He keeps you locked onto him, biting his lip as he watches your face marvel into pleasure. You can’t hold on for much longer, you can feel your body begin to fall apart with every loud heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“I’m- oh fuck baby,” you beg him, your eyes doing all the talking.

He growls in your ear and pants heavily, “cum for me, now,” he demands, possessiveness overflowing from him.

You hold onto him for dear life as your whole body tenses and the heat of the orgasm washes over you over and over again. You see stars behind your eyelids and gasp for air. You moan out his name as your walls squeeze his cock deep inside you. Your nails leave red marks down his back and he only fucks you harder. He lets out a deep, primal growl as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Mhmm yes, you’re all mine baby, all mine,” he moans, loving the feeling of you squeezing him.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck, groaning loudly and heaving for air. You continue to ride out your orgasm and your vision becomes clear again. The grip his hands have on you is so firm, you’re afraid he’s going to leave huge bruises behind. You heard him inhale deeply into your neck and moan your name. He keeps you moving on his length even though you feel spent.

He suddenly places a hand on the back of your head and makes an animalistic groan. You feel his teeth on your neck and nips at your neck like always. Your heart races out of your chest as this all feels so overwhelming. You gasp with his mouth on your neck and push into him more, more moans escaping you. Then, it feels different. He was nipping harder than usual and it started to sting.

You start to panic and the sounds emitted in his throat begin to become louder.

A sharp pain spreads across your neck and you push his head away from your neck and cover your neck as a reflex from the pain.

“Ouch!” you yelp.

Your eyes widen in shock as you see a small amount of blood dribbled down on his bottom lip. You remove your hand from your neck and look down at your to see the blood on your fingertips. You can’t move, you’re too scared from how he’s looking at you and by the way he has this far dazed look in his eyes. He licks his bottom lip and tastes your blood, making this eyes roll back.

He then quickly lifts you off of him and he stands up, towering over your scared body. You watch how he heaves for air and how his fangs grow and sharpen. 

“Oh God,” you gasp.

Terror washes over you as you try to back away from Elvis, needing to give him space. You reach for the blanket on the floor and wrap yourself in it again. You keep pressure on your neck to stop it from bleeding but your racing heartbeat only makes it worse. He lets out these frustrated grunts, squeezing his eyes shut like he’s in pain.

He opens them again to look at you and they’re blood red, black veins spreading from under his eyes. You can’t speak, you’re too in shock from all that has happened. Elvis groans in pain, panting heavily and backing away from you.

“Leave. NOW!” He bellows making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

 Nerves fill your body and you feel like you could pass out any second. You’ve never needed to get out of a room quicker than now with a starving vampire staring you down. You think this might be even worse than the first day with him. His eyes look so dangerous, so cunning, he has lost complete control of himself and won’t calm down til he gets his fill.

You start to stumble backward but your feet aren’t catching up with your brain. You can’t get out of here any faster. He presses his hands to his ears, groaning in agony.

“Fuck, get away from me! I can’t control myself. RUN!,” he yowls. He quickly turns away from you and you watch in horror how his fists fly up in the air, then come back down on the piano, splitting it in two.

The tumultuous sound it creates makes your skin crawl and your ears hurt. You turn to run to the door and all you hear is his painful, agonizing groans as he continues to bash at the piano.

You slam the door closed and make a run to the stairwell. You don’t care if anyone sees you running through the hotel in just a blanket, you need to get out of there fast.

You grab the keys to the car you left in the locker room and make a sprint for it to Anna’a apartment. Your heart hasn’t slowed down one bit from leaving the hotel. You drive recklessly on the side streets and hope to God you don’t get pulled over. You check your rearview mirror every five seconds, praying no one is following you. Elvis in particular.

You finally make it to the apartment, quickly park the car, and run upstairs. You can’t catch your breath and feel the entire room spin as you close the door behind you and quickly lock it. Your neck throbs at the bite mark and you place your hand back on it, checking to see if you’re still bleeding. Your blood paints your fingers and you whine in pain. Your flesh was already so sensitive there from the bruise that resided on it, but now the open wound stung and you needed to stop the bleeding.

The hall light comes on and you see Anna turn the corner, sleepy-eyed and squinting to try to adjust her eyes to the light.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” She says panicked, watching you stand there bloody wrapped in a blanket.

You gasp for air and feel the room closing in, “I- I- please help-,” you whimper before your knees give out and your world turns black in an instant.

*

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Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997

@returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8 @arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut

[katyawriteswhump]

Steddie microfic: Slay me dead

Corroded Coffin’s biggest gig yet makes Eddie hotter for Steve than ever… till he almost misses the little things that matter.

For @steddiemicrofic January prompt ‘hole.’ WC: 404. Rating: E. CW: Foreplay, sex, mention of sex toys. Tags: Rising rockstar Eddie, wannabe pop-star Steve, angst and fluff, shameless pet names.

***

Eddie bounces backstage, ears ringing with an electric guitar death-knell so metal he could die happy now. Steve waits, wearing skin-tight gold lamé pants. Ooooozing sex.

“We slayed ’em!” Eddie yells. “A crowd of five-fucking-thousand!”

He slams against Steve and they kiss, tongues thrusting deep, teeth skimming tender flesh. Steve sucks hungrily on Eddie’s lower lip, while Eddie squeezes Steve’s shiny ass: 

“Butt plug in, Stevie?”

“Shit! Forgot, um… Screw it. Sorry.” Steve flinches—tenses?—smears his fingers along those kiss-swollen lips.

Gnnnng!

Any blood remaining in Eddie’s brain rushes south. “Apologise ye not, Princess. Luuurve watching you prepare. Just want ‘in’ so bad.”

On the dressing room couch, Steve kneels, shirtless, straddling Eddie's hips. Working his sexy, sinewy fingers in and out of his sexy, sensuous mouth.

“Strings of saliva should noooot be this alluring.” Eddie's nails zigzag down Steve's delicious torso, snagging chesnutty hairs beneath his taut stomach. “You could be in porn, Babe.”

“Zip it. Or I’ll bill ya.”

Steve’s brow creases in super-hot concentration. He peels that golden second skin low down his thighs, mixes lube with spit, twists his hips so Eddie can see. Hastily wriggles his fingers inside. Soon, he’s gasping, bouncing lightly on his knees. He’s finger fucking himself, readying to lower himself onto Eddie’s ragingly ready dick…

…when Eddie finally looks into Steve’s huge, dark, sad eyes. Steve turns away.

“Stevie?”

Steve sighs, shudders, drags his fingers out and aligns himself for the ride. Eddie catches Steve’s wrist.

“Darlin'? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Steve tugs free, absent-mindedly slicks his decorously mussed hair. “Shitty timing, Sweetcheeks. I’m good, I...”

“Woah, let's sloooow this right down. If you're not totally okay with… Fuuuuck!”

Steve clenches his jaw, slowly impales himself, slaying Eddie dead mega-quick.

Steve opens up afterward, when they’re entangled together in a sweaty, hairy heap: “Your manager handed back my lousy demo tape. Said nobody's interested. Felt like I'd been shoved into a black hole, but… Over it already.”

“Holy shit. Sorry.” Eddie kisses Steve’s brow. “They’re morons. Takes time, okay?”

“Yeeeah. Guess there’s shittier gigs than being your fuck-toy.”

Eddie grimaces, traces Steve’s cheekbone adoringly with his thumb. “Next time I’m blinded by your hotness like a testosterone-fired apeman, slap me?”

Steve sorta laughs. “Not my kink.”

“Let’s find what is, Gorgeous.”

Eddie rolls on top, smothers every part of Steve with kisses. Then whispers ‘I love you’ as Steve comes, and till Steve’s asleep in his arms.