#i know i got two other ones that weren't real either but the only ones i remember are

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x single mom!reader; your ceiling is leaking at 3 in the morning and you don't know what to do so you go ask for help from the man across the hallway(inspired by real life events that were not nearly so charming).

no need to have read the others in the series but can be read as a week or two after the aquarium date.

cw: Sukuna being a menace

Sukuna had always been a light sleeper so when there were knocks on his door at 3am, he was up instantly. The knocks weren't even loud but he found himself annoyed enough to stomp to the door. If he wasn't sleeping, the people below him didn't need to be either.

He yanked his door open, prepared to make whoever it was regret every moment of their existence but it was you, holding your daughter and clearly on the verge of tears.

You seemed contrite when you saw his expression but before you could even start to apologize, he was slipping on his boots and grabbing his key.

"What's wrong," he asked.

"It-it's the ceiling, I woke up and it was leaking water. It's getting everywhere and I don't know what to do and the landlord isn't picking up."

Sukuna rubbed your arm, trying to give you some comfort and you relaxed a little.

"Okay, let me come take a look. I can call the super, he's probably more likely to answer than the landlord." You nodded and he followed you back to your place. Holding his hand out to stop you at the door as he made to go in first.

Sukuna heard the water pouring in before he saw it. He had never been in your apartment before. It was clear that a woman there. There was color everywhere, more blankets than made sense for two people and the walls were covered in photos and artwork. It felt soft, it reminded him of you. And now, it was being ruined by water raining down from the ceiling.

"Why don't you wait in my apartment. You both look like you could use some rest. I'll sort this out," he said, handing over his key. You looked ready to protest but then your daughter started crying.

"Go, I got it."

You looked so relieved and he wiped away a few tears from your daughter's face and pressed a kiss to her forehead which helped bring the tears down to a more tolerable snuffling.

"Thank you so much, I don't even-"

"Don't worry about it. You two just go settle in the guest room and I'll wake you up when it's settled."

You smiled at him and you seemed to hesitate before you went up on your toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Sukuna couldn't stop himself from grinning as you took your daughter out the door and towards his apartment. He turned around to look at the mess that was your apartment. It looked like a pipe must have burst in the apartment above yours. Annoying, but a quick fix when caught this early. He grabbed his phone, opening it to call the super before a thought came to him that just wouldn't leave.

It would be a shame if you had to terminate your lease because of unsafe conditions, after all you must still have a good six months left on it. He knew you didn't have any family in the area and it would be a lot for a working mom with a kid as young as yours to go apartment hunting all the sudden.

Of course, he did have that guest room. Plenty of space for the three of you and it wouldn't be hard to bring over the stuff you needed while you looked. His apartment was bigger than yours, even though it was just him.

Even if it was a tight fit, his lease was up at the end of the year anyway. You could always get a bigger space, one for your soon to be growing family.

Sukuna pocketed his phone and took a seat at your dining table, away from the water. He figured it would only take another hour before the damage passed the point of no return.

He hoped you and your daughter were resting well in your new home.

[kierawaffles]

the way i had a dream of getting twst cards that do not exist...

[writella]

Reckless Romantics

Synopsis: Can be read as a stand alone or part two to getting ready for me; a return to innocent, inexperienced!reader and her relationship with Rick Grimes; two weeks after their first time together there has been some distance, but now Rick wants to make up for how hasty he was when he touched her last.

Details: Rick Grimes x fem!reader, smut: oral (f receiving) and teaching reader how to give a handjob, unspecified (of age) age gap, sweetness + kissing + a little mutual pining maybe, probably cliche, and leaning more into Rick as the dutiful leader and gentle lover (I feel this is just as in character as dom!Rick). Reader is a music lover— any kind of music you like— but she also likes a specific band only because I watched a documentary about them at the theater in July so it made its way into the story. Slightly proofread— will be corrected more later. wc: 5-7k (I lost track after finishing it on tumblr).

A/N: I wrote this message before I returned for the summer, but I still want you to read it: Been spending time outside this summer, trying to reach some goals— time got away from me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying I miss you, but please know it’s always true.

— with love from writella, my beautiful reader. ♡

Rick Grimes was not a man to give in to temptation.

My mercy prevails over my wrath, he’d say— his secret keepsake phrase. The one he whispers to himself in moments of hardship; the one he uses when he needs to make decisions only a leader would. Rick was a man of discipline; honor. He never boasted about how seriously he took these qualities, but when others did— admired, applauded, stuck by him for it— it would be a lie to say that he didn’t take note and use their pride to keep him going. This is how he knows he is strong-willed, why he wouldn’t fall for foolish, forbidden things. He was better than that. The safety and prosperity he brought to Alexandria proved it, reaffirmed it.

So why couldn’t someone remind him of that two weeks ago before he touched you?

As for you, you believed yourself to be a girl who wouldn’t fall so easily for the first man who showed you any kind of affection.

From an adolescence of peers who never seemed to take notice of you to one filled with walkers and adults who were either dead or seldom your age, you learned how hard love, let alone any connection, is to come by. It has made you quite the perpetual daydreamer because of it. One with a heart and mind filled with fantasy worlds, creating what you lacked externally. It often made you see yourself as much younger than you were despite all you’ve been through. No regular person your age in the old world has probably escaped as many deaths and wannabe cowboy dictators as you have. Still, they probably knew what it was like to have a high school romance, or at least go to the movies with friends, and have graduated from well, anything. You were simply born too late and shoved into this new world too early to experience even half of it.

This upbringing has brought you up to believe yourself precocious, although— maybe you were already too old for that word now. No, you were, so maybe– sensible, realistic despite the overactive imagination; you could decipher between right and wrong, real versus fake. This is why, for as long as you could, you did not entertain any thoughts of Rick Grimes.

Other people would though, women mostly. But you did have your suspicions of others who thought the same— they just weren't as shameless. Those who were, could be found during lunch breaks from work on house porches; or laughing and whispering at community gatherings and at the back of town hall meetings. Basically any time or place they could turn into a gossip session, which was often. And it didn’t always have to do with Rick. It could be about any one of the men in town; or retelling funny moments to their friends or complaining about their co-workers. But anything of true, great interest always had to do with the community leaders. You wish you could say you were the exception to this interest, but hypocritically, you loved a good inside scoop, and luckily for you, you had a trustworthy way about you. Almost everyone who spoke to you or allowed you to sit with them and their friends for meals agreed: you were a intent, quiet listener making you the best kind of person to say things to without judgment; and people assumed you as shy, yet you loved to laugh which was great for boosting egos. They often treated you as a little sister in that way, as if the pleasure was all yours to get to hear their ramblings because they were either older or perceived themselves to be more sociable and experienced than you. You tried not to care too much about what they took you for. It was nice to feel trusted, even if people could be a little too mean or weird for your liking because no matter who it was, they made you feel as if you were watching television, and you missed television. They told you things from period mishaps– (it’s the apocalypse, there are a lot of free bleeding queens okay)— to which people in their workstations annoyed them most with very detailed explanations as to why and, of course, rumors or general talk about the leaders: who they thought each of them has slept with, if there seemed to be any fighting between them and what side they were taking, and obviously, anything that had to do with one of the guys. Some were downright obvious that one or the other was their type, while others might try to be more sly about it, always bringing whichever man it was up more than the others. But unless they were diehard Daryl girls, wanted to dominate Glenn, or had some military man, hot priest, or doctor kink for Abraham, Gabriel, or Siddiq, most of them apparently felt that Rick was the love of their lives. He was like a local celebrity. A band’s frontman.

“So, what about you?” One of your scavenging partners asked on the ride home. “Which one do you like?”

“They’re all attractive guys,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road. “But I don’t really think about them like that.” You feel a flush coming on. Crushes, or anything romantic, is a part of your internal world, not something you discuss aloud.

“Come on,” she prods. “You never join in. You just laugh at us for being delusional.”

“Whose us?” Rosita asks, her voice sharp, humorous, and not without judgment. “I don’t talk about that shit.” But secretly, she loved the drama as much as you and would have many questions for you later tonight about why you have yet to tell her of the town obsession of treating her friends like the cast of a reality show.

“I don’t laugh at you! I like it when you guys talk about that stuff.”

“But what I’m saying is that I didn’t let you ride shotgun this time so you can hold out again,” the girl jokes half-heartedly.

“What do you mean this time? I get to ride shotgun because I’m the one with the CDs.”

And it’s true, the only thing that cancelled out the silence of drive in moments where conversation ceased was your Oasis album playing in the background. Learning about the band was your new obsession. Much like listening to the crazy imaginations of the girls in town, you found the Gallagher brother rivalry riveting even if you only knew pieces of the story from the music, scraps of magazine articles, and by asking whoever in town happened to be a teen in the 90s. Thankfully you had hit the jackpot today though. One of the houses you visited was once occupied by a dad and daughter with an insane music collection in the living room and a smaller, more curated one in the girl’s room. After gathering what new music you wanted to try from downstairs, you also found some old issues of QuizFest in the girl’s room, filled with activities that were themed with shows you remember from when you were a kid, but the most important discovery— the find of all finds— was one of those Ultimate Guide, Complete Life Story magazines of none other than the band Oasis.

You would now probably know all of the drama between the brothers to tell a coherent story about the band’s history to anyone who wanted an escape from walker related events and farming talk. When you weren’t listening, that’s what people would come to you for: to borrow music, get recommendations, or to tell them a story. In all, you were getting the reputation of being the town’s music historian, meaning you usually used your knowledge to avoid talking about yourself. And it mostly worked.

Except for now.

“Well, if I had to guess,” the girl persists despite your silence, “I think it would be Rick.”

“What?” Noticing the incredulity in your tone, you calm your voice. Shrugging you say, “Why Rick? Everyone likes him.”

Rosita sends a look your way. It’s innocent enough, probably just showing that she is still listening on as she drives but you were refusing to look at anyone now to know for sure.

“Exactly,” the girl says. “He’s a classic knight in shining armor type. I feel like he’d talk you through it, which I think would be good for— someone like you.”

Your face is on fire, you can’t even speak properly. “I- first of all, what do you know about my experience?” you ask, the incredulous tone returning. But all you get as an answer is knowing snorts and chortles from the two women. Ouch. Nonetheless, you continue, “Second, you think shooting a guy in the head in front of his wife and the whole town is chivalrous?”

Oh—

That makes car goes quiet.

You know you made a mistake.

You didn’t mean it as crassly as you said it, and you did feel bad for saying it knowing that the situation was more difficult than you summed it up to be, but you didn’t apologize. All this talk about crushes and especially Rick made you embarrassed. It’s not that you didn't see what others saw anyway. Of course you noticed how nice Rick’s curls are, how he doesn’t have to use any product for them to look as they do; or those blue eyes and how when you get closer, they become that much more stark and crisp; or how good he was at talking to people, convincing them of things or simply just reassuring them as a friend; and that southern drawl that still sometimes catches you by surprise by sounding so pronounced at the end of certain words, making his voice that much more intoxicating. Of course you saw the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him.

Right?

Maybe it doesn’t matter. You just felt you knew better. He was like a president. You know of them, and you believe in them, but you don’t get close to them. And it didn’t matter that he told Carl to personally deliver you a stereo he and Daryl found while out once. How he remembered how you liked music. How he told Carl to tell you this one was probably better than the old one you had, that it was louder. You only showed him your old stereo that once when he was helping you move. He was just a perceptive guy with a good memory. All leaders are like that.

Right?

Anyway, let’s get back to your crass… joke.

“Hilarious.” Rosita says and you hear the low contempt in her voice at your insensitivity.

“That was ages ago though,” the girl chimes in, saving you just a little, “and he did it to help her. He didn’t care about the mess he made. He save her. I’d say that’s pretty romantic.”

“Let’s not call that romantic,” Rosita scoffs, and despite the slight frustration, there was a quiet sadness in her voice at the memory. “That wasn’t love.”

“That was reckless, not romantic.” You agree. Partly because you truly do, but also in attempt to win back favor from your friend. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

But after that day, it was all you could think about.

The idea of a knight; a romantic; someone that would do anything for you, ruin his reputation for you; find gifts from the outside that he’d send is son to give to you. Maybe you did find it charming, idyllic.

These thoughts soared in your mind so much so that on one night when thinking about boys from books or your favorite artists wasn't enough during moments under your sheets when your back arched and your fingers trailed up your thighs, your mind switched from people you would never meet to him, to Rick. Your eyes scrunched tighter, and you tried to shake it away, telling yourself it was just the women in town and the talk in the car getting to you. But then you thought about how rich and hot pink his lips looked on a bright sun-burning day and how it would feel like flames firing inside of you if he kissed you with them.

Ideas like these went on for nearly a year now. You even started questioned if maybe you had always liked him, maybe you were always just like the other girls even though tried to not be. You had thought it made you respectful, realistic; after all, how could Rick be the love of your life if he was everyone’s? Wonderings like this became even worse and more confusing when Rosita had asked if you’d like to move in with her. Becoming closer with her meant being around the leaders more often, which meant coincidental encounters and conversations with Rick as well. Quickly, he wasn’t just that president or celebrity anymore who talked to you sometimes and got you that stereo that once. He was becoming a peer— at least in some ways. One who was curious about your interests as much as your opinions. But it’s not exactly like you were in the in-crowd now as some people assumed. You didn’t get to go to leader meetings, and as much as you knew Rosita must have been telling you more than others know, she couldn’t have been telling you everything. But you did see him more than other people now, when he and the leaders came over to the house or when Rosita was invited over to theirs and she’s tell you to come too. And now, with these thoughts spiraling, you can’t help but to look back at the at the times where Rick approached you, gave you all his attention no matter how small it was and asked you about what you were listening to or reading that week, letting you ramble. He was an older guy, yes, but he cared, he actually listened, and he didn’t make you feel like the childish little sister others do.

Sadly, you did become the fawn like you had told yourself you wouldn’t be. But you couldn’t stop picturing him when you closed your eyes, and in fact, it was nice to imagine someone to fall asleep with, to wake up to. It was just going be your secret. Part of your fantasy world. But then— it all caught up to you.

Through the sliver of the open door he saw you, fingers between folds, goading yourself on as you chanted his name in whispers.

And to your surprise, he encouraged it. No, he did so much more than that— he helped you, made you come; gave you your first orgasm and made you his like no one has before.

You loved it. You gave into it. Even if it was just one secret moment. It made you give into the idea that this would continue but of course, it didn’t. He hasn’t spoken to you in almost three weeks until—

“Woah-” you gasp, almost crashing into just the person as you exit your room.

“Sorry,” you both say in unison, holding onto each other's forearms before quickly letting go. Your arms cross over into your chest before dropping as you enter your room again, clearing the hallway, and his hands go behind his back. He’s still as unsteady as you are, his mouth is slightly open, thinking of what to say.

“Hi,” you whisper tentatively.

“Good morning,” he politely replies. His eyes now smile slightly as he nods to you. You don’t miss how the light emanating from your bright room makes them shine. And he doesn’t miss how the light shining behind your figure makes you, in your white cotton sundress, look like an absolute angel.

“Good morning,” you repeat, giggling slightly, not knowing what else to say.

“Good morning,” he says again, lost and as giddy as you are.

“Oh wait— is the leader’s meeting here today?” Rick starts to nod and answers yes as you continue to speak, “I totally forgot! I’m sorry. I know I should be gone by now.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I was just going to the bathroom.”

“Here? Was someone in the one downstairs?”

“Just wanted to be away from everyone when they came. Daryl and I came early so we started talking and I just- we didn’t see eye to eye on something. I needed a minute.”

You nod. That seems to be your signature when to talk to him. You hated it honestly. Often over-analyzing your words, worrying you’ll sound immature or stutter in front of him. “I'm sorry,” you tell him sympathetically. For a moment there is only silence which makes you worry he will go away, so without thinking, you ask: “I know you’re busy but, if you need a moment, maybe you would like to come in here instead?”

Rick freezes but then, inevitably agrees. As he enters, you close the door and quickly go to shut off the low playing stereo and rehang some of the dresses on your chair in the closet— you had been getting ready for the day. Rick goes to sit on the chair after you empty it but you stop him. You sit on the vertical side of your bed and guesture Rick to sit in the spot next to you, closer to the headboard. You wanted to sit next to him.

Rick doesn’t question this, maybe he wanted to be as close to you as you had, so as he sits, your thighs touch. You try not to move too much at the first contact. Still, the heat that starts to burn inside you makes you realize how much you’ve craved this. Can two weeks feel like a lifetime? It’s like you haven’t felt him in ages.

“What were you playing today?” He asks and you realize you eyes went straight to the area where yours and Rick’s legs touched. You know he noticed but still you try to answer normally.

“Selena. Rosita loves her. It’s one of her most famous songs: Amor Prohibido.”

He nods. “I probably wouldn’t understand a bit of it,” he laughs.

He would probably remember the singer from the news if you gave more context but you don’t. There is a silence that follows until you ask, “So,” starting slowly, “what’s wrong? Is Daryl aright?”

He doesn’t answer. His mouth is open as if he’s deciding what to say, but nothing comes out, so you continue, “You know, nothing is ever right in the world when Rick and Daryl fight. It makes me sad.”

The joke makes those lines at the sides of his eyes appear— a quiet laugh. “Well you know I’d never want to make you sad. Especially not you.” You two exchange a light smile while that heat rises fast to your heart. “We’ll be fine,” he finally says, but then he goes quiet again. Rick seems unsure if he wants to continue. He even looks at the door, wonders if the others have shown up yet, but— he knows he doesn’t want to leave. And even more, he knows he shouldn’t after ignoring you like some teenage boy. He decides to tell you what’s happening: “Daryl wants us to bring new people in. You know how he’s always going out there. But I think it’s way too soon.”

You hum agreeingly, but at the same time, you understand Daryl. “I think he just likes to give people what he never used to have,” you suggest.

“I know,” he nods a bit annoyedly; “and that’s a nice way to put it, but you know him, when he has his mind set on somethin’ he can be so damn stubborn. It’s frustrating. He won’t compromise or listen to anything.”

Endearingly, you try to withhold a laugh, your lisp pursing. Not only because when he says anything, it actually sounds like anythang, but because Rick sounds like he’s describing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

“And,” he adds, pausing for a moment before he continues, scratching his beard. It looks as if maybe he shouldn’t tell you what he’s about to. His head hangs low to say: This is not information for everyone to know, okay? But the last time he went out there with Glenn, the reason Glenn’s arm is in a sling right now, is because they met a group, tried to bring them back and before they could make it even close to home, the group fought ‘em, tried to steal what they scavenged, and almost kill Glenn.”

You widen your eyes at the statement. You actually already knew this from Rosita, but that will stay between you two. All you feel is humbled that he felt he share it with you, despite it being a dark thing. It was a close call. Rick was right for being very cautious right now. “Wow,” is all you can get in before he speaks again.

“Imagine if we lost him. Fought this war with his wife and unborn baby at the time for nothing? So he couldn’t even meet him?” Rick shakes his head, and you notice his foot tapping lightly, making his knee bounce. This had happened a month ago now but it was obviously affecting him. “It was reckless and I told him that. That right now we need to be focusing on what’s inside these walls. People have only just started getting back to being comfortable now; to feeling like this is a home.”

Your eyes remain wide, “We did so much rebuilding you.”

“We did complete rebuilding.” He corrects, though not rudely. Shaking his head, he goes back to talking about Daryl: “I think I made it seem like what happened to Glenn was his fault. So not only were we arguing but I must’ve hurt him,” Rick realizes, “and now he definitely won’t be back today— maybe not even until next week.”

A silence hangs in the air after this; it seems he finished. Now, you know you should speak, but as the silence continues, you grow more unsure of what to say. Issues like these are things you’ve never dealt with. You didn’t want to say something stereotypical.

“I’m sorry I’m putting all this on you.”

“No, no,” you quickly console, trying to think. “Um, well,” you say, starting unsteadily, “this is probably going to sound stupid and not helpful. I don’t even remember the exact context or what was truly said so it might not make any sense either but, do you remember when I had my Oasis obsession? Earlier this year?”

“I do,” he laughs, turning his head over to your music table. His eyes scan any of the visible album titles to see if he can find it, but the print on most of them are too small. He turns back to you as you continue:

“This is going to sound a little far off but I think you and Daryl are like Liam and Noel.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Didn’t those two hate each other?”

“I mean, yes— but it’s much more complicated than that to me— but no, I don’t mean in that way. It just that there is this quote Noel says that I don’t remember exactly, but I really liked: he said that even though he wrote the music and Liam did the singing that Liam meant the words just as much as Noel did because they’re brothers and he wrote them. I thought that was beautiful, but…” you trail off.

He stays silent, trying to give you space to find your words but you feel like you’ve gone too far. It’s all pretty convoluted and not a true comparison to what’s going on that you’re even confusing yourself a little. “I think what I mean is that even though they have their different roles, they still feel very similar things and believe in the same purpose. I think that’s like you and Daryl. You two are so similar yet so different. But there’s still a binding force that always brings the two of you together. So, like I’m sure you already know and I didn’t even need to tell you, but you two will be okay. You two have different ways of doing things, but the music or the life you’re trying to create in Alexandria still has the same meaning to the both of you.” You laugh small and breathily as you end. “That probably didn’t make sense.”

Rick smiles to himself. “I didn’t get that first bit, with the quote, but no… that made a lot of sense to me.” He nods toward you and you return his smile. “You’re so bright. You know that? Not everyone knows how to stitch things together like that the way you do.”

This makes you feel good. Rick thought you were smart. You know you should say thank you, but instead, something else comes out: “May I, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he answers, almost stuttering it out, a hint of hesitation before he did, but he nods so kindly, so reassuringly as he tells you again: “yes.”

Your fingers touch his lower cheeks lightly, feeling the bristles of his beard. You’re slow, and careful, and scared. Your fingers linger on his jaw for a moment until they completely caress his right cheek and then you move in, swiftly— worried you’ll lose your confidence, worried he’ll change his mind. You catch his lower lip and seal the kiss. Your lips are locked for a few seconds until you retreat. It was nice, and exciting, but short. You knew you could have put your tongue in his mouth. You believe he would have let you because you remember when he did it last time, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by doing it wrong and once again reminding him how much you don’t know. But you’re sure giving him a grade school kiss like this one was enough of a reminder.

Your eyes roll down, chin low. Your cheeks are on fire and your hands do not know where to go so you start fiddling with the hem of your dress and then you laugh. You were trying to be courageous this time, and you were, but you also weren’t.

Rick grabs your left hand, holding it at the end of your thigh, “I liked that,” he says softly.

“You did?” You ask as softly as he, eyes meeting his.

A short, airy snicker comes out, “Mhm,” he hums, giving you a closed-mouth smile. He found you simply adorable.

“Can I… try it again?”

Rick pulls on your forearm, attempting to bring you closer to him. “Yeah,” he nods, voice gentle. “Do you want me to help?”

You nod before you speak, happily accepting, “Yes.”

He puts your hands on his shoulders. One of his grabs onto your waist and the other holds you lightly under your chin, adjusting your head to meet his lips. The first kiss he places holds just for a couple of moments as the one you gave him did, gentle but packed with longing. The next two are slow, pretty pecks that already have you melting at his touch, lips agape waiting for the next one. The fourth is the one where he brings his tongue into your mouth, carefully bringing it in quarter by quarter. He tastes the top of your mouth and tongue and you feel him as he slowly starts to explore how far you may like to go, but truly you become stagnant other than your hands that press into his shoulder. Luckily, Rick either doesn’t notice your hesitation or is already silently helping you as he takes the lead, pulling you closer by the hips and slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth to kiss you more. It makes you smile— the excitement of your first make-out session. You giggle, and then it makes him smile too and your teeth slightly bump into each other. Accidently you nip his lip because of it, making you pull back.

Your fingers hover over your lips as you impart a quiet apology but Rick just shakes his head giving you another quick kiss instead. He starts to move back on your bed, back pressed again the headboard and he tells you quietly, “Come here.”

You get up and sit higher up on the bed as well, calves folded under your thighs. He takes one of your legs and starts to put it over his as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You nod, vigor growing as you do it now, thrilled to sit on his lap. Your dress bunches around your hips and the tops of your thighs. You move closer to press your chest into his and you kiss him first again, another small one but with intent as you look at him afterward, feeling the scratch of his beard on your fingertips as you smile at him, in awe that this is happening.

“You want to try this time?”

“Uh,” he means you put your tongue in his mouth this time, but you’re afraid to do it wrong but you know you want to say yes so you do, “Yes, okay.”

So he brings you in again and you kiss him. He mouth opens a little and you try to bring your tongue in slightly but you teeth clash. “Sorry,” and quickly he responds that it’s okay and rubs your cheek, telling you to just open your mouth a little wider, no teeth, let your tongue go on top of his.

You try it. Your tongues meet again, licking each other tips before you slowing press in more, your chest touching his as you try to close the gap.

Rick starts slowly rocking your hips against his and he takes control of the kiss again. It helps you not think, you like it. And you like the feeling of that incoming tight bulge starting to form under his jeans, but then you let go. “Wait,” you say, “I like this.” You pause for a moment, confusing him more as to why you stopped. “But… there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” his hand stay fixed on your hips and waist, rubbing soothily, “What it is?”

Another pause. “I feel nervous,” you whisper.

“You have no reason to be, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You laugh, smiling as you look off to the side. Anythang.

He smiles too, although unknowingly to what you found funny. His head tilts as he tries to find your gaze and turn it towards him again.

“Well, the last time we were together here you taught me how to do something. You taught me how to pleasure myself better so,” you stutter, “I want to pleasure you. If that’s okay. And I was wondering if you’d teach me how- to touch you here.” You remove yourself from straddling him and point in the direction of his cock.

Instantly he feels a stir of his already hardening dick.

This is not how he expected things to go this time. Or truly, he didn’t expect any of this at all, but when you asked to kiss him he decided he would be gentle, more giving. It felt like you wanted him to take again, the exact thing he was trying not to do. “I feel like I took advantage of you last time.”

“Rick…” you shake your head. “I’m the one who didn’t close the door all the way. You asked if it was okay and then you asked if you could go faster. I said yes to everything…” You start to worry— is he second guessing everything now?—“I feel maybe we remember this differently.” You bow your head again now. Feeling ashamed, wondering if he did.

Rick places one hand on your knee to comfort you although he still says, “It’s just that I’ve never done something like this before.” His thumb sways on your skin. “I just don’t want you to end up feeling like you’re wasting your time. Your first times.”

You’re surprised, “It’s so funny how you can be so self-assured in front of a crowd and now you don’t think you’re good enough.” You take his hand and press it towards your chest. Your heart was racing. “I like you. So much.” You swallow as he says your name softly, realizing how fast your heart was going. “No one in town is truly ever mean to me or anything, and Rosita has been so kind with letting me move in with her and we talk and its nice but, you know— she has her flings and her friendships that are separate from mine and everyone just always seems like they have their person and I just don’t. I don’t have my person, or any person.” You remove your hands from your chest but Rick still holds onto it, squeezing your hand as you start speaking again. “You’re kind, Rick, and you make me excited, and you remember things about me… “ If your face could get any hotter, it does, “And, well, you’re very handsome. If you could teach me again, I would like that.”

God… Rick was trying to be a romantic yet you were so adamant on getting him off. He laughed inwardly, shaking his head, deciding that the best way to handle this situation— and make up for some of his guilt as he was trying to— would be to give you the thing you say you want and not what he thinks you want. Suppose that’s one for widower’s wisdom.

Decidedly, Rick gets up from the bed, giving you a once over, still admiring how adorable, and how sexy, you look to him with your feet under your lap, hands on your knees as you look up at him from the bed and your white dress. He starts undoing his shirt buttons. “Remember when I did this the first time?”

A smirk came on, there’s the Rick you remember. Blue eyes intense, and voice getting cocky as he gets ready to give you what you need, what he knows you only want from him.

“Yes,” you say quiet yet with budding excitement. You start going for the hem of your dress, “Should I start taking this off too?”

“Mm, stay like that.” He’s taking off his belt. “Thought you looked beautiful in it right when I saw you.”

Your thighs squeeze together slightly. Rick Grimes was undressing before you, for you, and calling you smart and beautiful all the while.

As Rick lowers his boxers, his cock springs up. He returns to his spot on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. All of a sudden he seems to truly recognize that he is the only one exposed. He would tell you what to do, guide you, but in a small way, in a way you probably didn’t realize, you were in control. It seems that each time this happens— although it’s only been twice— and each time he talks to you— which has been plenty— you steal a little more of Rick’s heart and he just can’t stop it.

“So,” he clears his throat, your eager eyes on his cock making him twitch, “you usually just wrap your hand around, start from the base and keep pumping up.” He shakes his head, “there’s not too much too it but it’s best to keep your hand light at the start, you—”

You nod quickly, “May I?”

As he nods back you, “Yes.” And as he says it you’re already licking your hand.

“Is it okay if I spit? That helps right? Or is that nasty to you?”

He’s caught off guard, “No, no, that helps.”

So you do and you place your hand lightly at the base as he said and you start to pump. Instantly, he lets out a gasp, and the next noises that follow are repressed grunts and groans. You want to ask him to stop doing that but you’re a little scared to speak up that way just yet and you’re too engrossed in how you can see the light veins of green and blue on him and how he’s so red at the tip. It was honestly exciting. Just this, touching him with your hand, staring at his member and watching him twitch as his mouth opens to pant lightly. It still felt unreal but you liked it and you were happy to learn. You start to pump him more towards the top, placing your thumb on his slit- pressing in. His abs clench at that. You push in a little harder and you squeeze your fist around him a little— testing it out to see what happens—and he groans, unadulterated this time, “oh, fuck.”

The heel of your foot that’s under your lap pushes into your center at that.

You start pumping faster. “Am I doing good, Rick?”

Hearing your voice sets him off, “Fuck, sweetheart. Yes.” He’s honestly choking out each of his words, he didn’t expect to get so turned on by all of this. He realizes the last time he had sex was with you that first time, and before that… he can’t even remember. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

As you pump, you start to slow down, only doing it shallowly towards his base. You’re feeling confident and you kiss the side of him, licking a fat stripe up to the top and then you pump him fully again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he breathes out. He wants to tell you to slow down but it comes out of nowhere, he stutters before he can even speak. An unintelligible groan mixed with a moan comes out abrupt and louder than he intends and white spurts of liquid come out.

You go faster for a few moments, then start to slow down, a little unsure of what is best to do, but you notice when you start squeezing him a little more as you continue to pump up and more whiteness fall out from inside of him.

“Did I, make you come?”

“Yeah,” he says, huffing.

“I did?” your cheekbones rise as you ask with awe— it was another first for the books.

Rick’s tries to let his embarrassment fade, he can tell you were just excited about it, but still, he looks down and to the side, avoiding direct eye contact— almost like you typically would. You peer at him, almost nervously because of it. Rick is usually the confident one. “Doesn’t always happen that fast,” he explains.

“Well before a month ago I didn’t know how to make myself come so I wouldn’t know,” you say with self-deprecating assurance. You had heard from the girls in town that it was easier to make men orgasm. You already had it in your head as something not to judge. You wonder how hard he must have been restraining himself the first time he placed himself inside you, or if it just happened to be easier for him that time around. “I didn’t expect I could do it or anything really. I thought it was…” you smile while giggling, “interesting.”

“A good interesting I hope.”

“Very,” you assure. “I liked it.” You kiss his cheek as you take some wipes that are by your night stand and you start cleaning him up. He doesn’t tell you that you don’t have to; he helps along with you.

“You sure you’ve never done any of this before?”

You shake your head. “I just read fiction books.”

He smiles to himself, a quiet snort of laughter leaving his nose. You always surprise him.

When you two are done cleaning, he puts his boxers back on. Quickly, he is on the bed again and starts to kissing you. Rick holds your shoulder and pushes you down. Finally, it’s time for his redemption, he feels. It was your turn to be pleasured. Just like he wanted to do from the beginning.

Rick kisses down your neck to your collarbone, and the parts of your exposed chest and he pushes your dress up past your hips. His lips move back up to yours, kissing you more before saying, “I really wanna show you something sweetheart.” He presses his thumb into your clit over your underwear. “Can I kiss you down there? Have you ever had that before?”

You shake your head slowly, eyes wide. “I-” you start nodding your head, “-I would really like that.” And in such a small voice you add, “Please.”

Rick kisses your cheek. Deep and softly he breathlessly tells you, “I would love to.”

Rick moves his head lower and gives you slow kisses over your underwear from your mound to the end of your lips. He starts to drag your panties over your legs and once they’re gone he kisses up your thighs. Then his nose rubs and sways ever so lightly on your lips. He breathes in and it makes you shutter. Your heart is going crazy again. Finally, he licks upward. One long and languid stripe ending with a kiss to your clit and then he truly begins.

Tongues are wet and sticky and everything you ever dreamed of. Your eyes roll back instantly from that first lick and kiss. You remember a time when you started touching yourself that you used to never think of receiving oral. You thought it was scary, nasty, that you wouldn’t like it until the moment you thought about it as a million kisses on your most sensitive lips, or someone liking you so much that they’d get drenched by your wetness just to touch you, to taste you. After that, you thought about it all the time and now it was finally happening– someone needing you so much they just had to know what you taste like. Here he was: kissing, licking, sucking, not caring about how he looks but only how you feel— you now knew what it was like to be desired.

Rick presses his tongue flat on your clit, rubbing deep circles. His eyes are open, looking up at how your mouth opens wider and wider. You let out little whimpers, enamored by his tongue, still deciding if you like the scratch of his beard, but your eyes stay glued to the ceiling, scared to look at the scene below.

He gives you kitten licks in between speaking, “Look down. Don’t miss your first time.”

Your eyes go down slowly, watching as he gives open mouth kisses to your clit and right lip, tilting his head. He stays there for a moment, hearing your short and breathy pants, kissing and licking your clit and lower lips like they were the ones above your chin. His eye contact sends bursts of sticky wet fluid down your hole and you release a whimpered moan, they’re always sp short and soft and high pitched. He can tell you like it but he can also see you’re nervous. You don’t trust yourself, you know it, and he’s starting to realize it too. You’re scared of completely letting go.

He peppers kisses to your clit before moving upward, his tongue rolling and mouth kissing from your lower stomach to your breasts till his face reaches yours again. “No one’s here,” he tells you. He then kisses your lips allowing you to taste yourself for the first time. “Relax,” he whispers, rolling out each syllable. He holds your chin with one hand while he inserts a finger into your hole with the other, his pointer is instantly drenched and you shudder at the feeling. His single calloused finger reminds you of the time he was last inside you. He pumps slowly, looking into your eyes as he speaks, “Don’t think about who could come downstairs.”

“What if Rosita or Daryl come back?”

“What if?” He says it so simply as if he’s ready for everyone to know. Truly, that would be an issue, but right now it was not about him and it was completely about you; he wanted to give. It was short-sighted, reckless, yes, but… you were just so pretty, so bright, so insightful, and he felt like he needed to make up for all the taking he did last time, of your first time. Rosita had went to run after Daryl, hopefully no one was here anyway. But again, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. “Lay back,” he gently commands, “forget what I said before- close your eyes. Just give in to it. Like I’m the only one who's here.”

Rick licks zig zag stripes down your slit and then he decides to insert his tongue in your hole. He goes as deep as his tongue allows, collecting your wetness and trying to swallow it in moments when he turns back to kissing. He his nose is brushing and rubbing up against your clit as he sucks wetness from down below and you start letting out stringy moans you can’t control. Soft, pretty, and continuous, “uh, ah, uh, uh” that turn into “sorry, I’m sorry.” You’re still self-conscious about your own noises. This was still only the second time you’ve heard the sounds you make when someone else is fucking you.

But Rick shushes you. Giving small kisses to your clit as he looks up at you, seeing your scrunched eyes and open mouth. “I like knowing you like it, pretty girl. I like all those pretty sounds you’re making.”

Your pussy tightens around nothing at that phrase.

“Keep going. You don’t have to be shy.” He grabs your chin and you look down at him. His beard is wet. “We’ve already made a mess anyway.”

He starts kissing your labias, licking up wetness when you decide to ask, nervously, “Can you make sounds too?”

Instantly, Rick goes again to kiss your clit, humming into it as he sucks. Breathing against you he says, “Want me to tell you I like it, sweetheart?” His tongue slides down again, tongue reaching into your hole and he moans into your pussy.

Your back arches and you mewl, you could almost scream.

That’s it, he thinks. Rick keeps humming and groaning into you now. His voice is so seductive. “I love tasting your pussy, baby.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Rick starts rubbing your clit with his thumb and going fast with his tongue in your hole “My bright, pretty girl gonna come for me? Hm?”

“Oh, Rick, I want to. Please, Rick.”

Rick starts to go faster and your brain turns to mush. Only noises coming out and when he stops his tongue movements to say something more you push his head down. “Sorry,” you say. You’ve never been forceful before but he says nothing, just continues going down on you and taking his free hand to place it over his, gesturing that he wants your hands in his hair. You tug on his curls and he grunts into you. You start chanting his name and then he switches to placing his lips on your clit and putting two fingers in your pussy. It reminded you of the first time but instead of your three fingers they were two of his and it felt so much better than you ever knew before, better than you could ever do it yourself. It sets you off. Your eyes shut tighter if they could. “Rick! Oh my god,” you moan and then again and again and then you come.

Rick laps at your cunt, vigorously trying to wipe you clean. He makes it look like it will be the last and only time. It makes you worry but at the same time he looks so sexy like that; needy for you even after you finished.

He takes your wipes and cleans his lips before cleaning you up as you did for him. He kisses you thighs and your lips and your cheeks as he continues. “You did such a good job,” he says. “You always do.”

You’re filled with pride at that. “Thank you.” Then worry sets in. You realize how public you’ve made everything. “Did I just ruin your life?”

He laughs while caressing your thigh. That anxious expression of yours that he just got rid of returns after all the work he did.

“I’m gonna check downstairs. Okay? If they’re there, they’re there.” You nod. We already made a mess anyway, you remember him saying. “They might want to start the meeting when I go down so, whatever happens, happens alright? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes are still nervous, but it’s all too late anyway. “Okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” he says back, kissing you once more. As he dresses himself again, he tells you, “I promise I won’t wait two weeks to see you again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he says as a send off and goes into the bathroom to clean his face.

When he reaches the living room, there is no one. Rick is thankful but confused.

As he nears the coffee table there is a sheet of yellow lined legal pad with a talkie next to it.

Call when you’re done, it reads.

“Rosita?” He questions into the device. Who else could it have been, right?

He can almost hear the grin on her face. “They should start calling you Reckless Rick for all the agony you put these Alexandria girls through.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “There’s just something about that stupid hair cowboy accent, I guess.”

Before he can respond, telling her that it’s absurd to think of him as a playboy, that he was far from it, she continues:

“So, fucking my roommate? You’re glad Glenn and Maggie called everyone over to theirs instead. Hershel took his first steps while you were teaching someone else how to take theirs.”

She unpressed the button to suppress her laughter. “Just get over here,” she concludes, putting down the walkie and going back to meet the rest of the group with a perfect poker face. She tells everyone Rick will be here shortly.

Oh, Alexandria’s leader and her new little best friend who has been hearing the townswomen’s fantasies of him for years: Reckless Rick and his reckless romantic girl.

Rosita would give you so much shit for this when she gets home.

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

"Told him go put my name on his account

because when I need money, I ain't tryna wait"

Sugar daddy!König x stripper reader. First time you met at the stripclub, he was so nervous to talk to you that he didn't know what to do with himself. He was dressed in a button up and slacks, perfectly tailored to his long limbs and not a wrinkle in sight. He just kept handing you 20s every couple of minutes while you talked to him, sitting on his thigh. You just kept rambling on and on about the newest outfits you've bought and your skincare routine. His jaw was clenched hard while he focused on listening to you, trying to ignore his painfully hard dick tucked up into his waistband. It made him feel so special when you gave him your number. Of course it was a fake number you gave every customer so you can let them know when you're coming to work. But he didn't know any better. He lost it when he got a text from you the following week,

"Working today! Come see me?❤️"

He didn't know you were just clicking through the list of customers on your texting app and sending the same message. He got at the club two hours before you even stepped into the changing room. He'd awkwardly shoo away other dancers away saying he was waiting for you. It was the same thing every time you worked; sitting on his thigh talking about frivolous things while he handed you 20s. He didn't even get a lap dance from you until a solid two months of coming to the club. And when it finally did happen, you could see the deep shade of red his face turned even in the dim lights. He didn't even properly say goodbye before leaving the club. Practically sprinted to his car, desperately undid his slacks and aggressively fucked his fist in the parking lot. Every detail of you vividly emblazoned in his mind despite how dark it was. Slammed his hand down his aching shaft repeatedly, imagining it was your perfect ass bouncing up and down on him. Wondered if your skin tasted as good as it smelled. He spills a hot thick load on his button up, whimpering. Staring at the ceiling of his car; he's thankful for the tinted windows on his Range Rover.

As the months went on, he would bring gifts to the club; watches, earrings, bags, even skincare products that you brought up when you first met. Your coworkers oohed and ahhed, talked about how lucky you are to have such a hot guy be your top client. How it was even better that he barely talked.

One day he timidly asks for your real name before handing you a fat stack of 20s, promising he'll keep it a secret. You were gonna tell him either way, but the money didn't hurt. You even gave him your real number. You already liked him, you were just afraid to complicate things. He promised he would keep it simple. Just let him take care of you: How could you say no?

So you went on your first date together. Met up right outside the restaurant. Both of you got a better look at each other now that you weren't in a dark club, it was so weird seeing him for the first time while not wearing a skimpy bikini. You still had the same effect on him though: the dress you wore made him so hot under the collar, he could melt right then and there. Also, he was used to you being...taller? It was probably the impossibly tall shoes you donned at work. But there you were, in normal heels (even they were high, though). He still towered over your either way. He was somehow even hotter in this light, subtle scars across his face and sleepy eyes that were accentuated by annoyingly long lashes.

You were the only people in the restaurant which was unexpected because of how popular it was. (He had bought the whole place out, of course. He just couldn't imagine being distracted by other people while trying to impress you on your first real date.) As usual, he smiled when you touched his arm or laughed at your own joke. As usual, you were the one leading the conversation. As usual, he only spoke when you asked him a question.

At the end of the date, instead of calling a cab to take you home; you asked him to drive you. Then you asked him to walk you up to your place. Then you asked him to come in for tea. Then you asked him to rail you over the kitchen island. He turned a darling shade of pink that made you giggle.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to..."

He stood awkwardly in your kitchen, shifting uncomfortably.

"No, I really want this. I promise."

You assured him, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. He swallowed hard, and blinked. He felt so guilty because he didn't want to take advantage of you. But God did he want you in a way that was downright wicked. You tugged at his collar and kissed him as he was in the middle of fighting with himself. Your lips were so soft, the softest things he ever kissed. God was it divine.

In the blink of an eye, you were leaning your elbows on the counter with your legs open. Of course he wanted get waterboard by your pussy first but you looked too fucking good bent over in that dress that hugged your curves so well. The way your heels have you standing on the balls of your feet, accentuating your legs and making your ass stick out, he was literally drooling. He slid your dress up and moaned when he saw how soaked you were. Pussy so fat it almost ate up the small thong you were wearing. He gently slid it to the side and got weak in the knees seeing your pretty lips for the first time. He quickly undid his pants, giving himself a couple tugs enjoying the way you swayed your hips. He teased his way inside, swiping his tip through your slick to lube himself up. Almost came right when he stuck his thick tip in. He didn't even slide himself all the way in; afraid to hurt you, no matter how much you begged. It took everything in him to not release until you did. He grit his teeth so hard trying to control himself he gave himself a headache. He made the sweetest moans and whimpers.

"Mein Engel, mein Engel~"

He'd repeat. It was honestly the most noise you've ever heard come from this man. He was obsessed with the way you gripped him. You looked back right into his eyes and begged for him to give you every last inch. He couldn't help himself, he slammed his hips against your ass. Knocked the wind right out of you. His fingers dug into your hips as he lost control of himself; repeatedly digging into you with his fat shaft. Every pump was a bruising kiss to your cervix. It hurt. It was heavenly. Your legs started shaking so bad your knees gave out and he held you up by the hips, just lifting you enough to make your stand on your tiptoes. Fucked you right through your orgasm; he held off for this long, might as well make the most of it. Every pump after that just sent you more into a stupor until he finished inside you, you didn't even realize you were begging for him to do that. Just dick drunk and hypnotized.

You didn't take the cash he offered before he walked out, that would make this whole moment feel transactional, cheapen the moment. You weren't having sex with him because he gave you money. You were having sex with him because you liked him, because he took care of you. And you wanted to take care of him. Oh and you knew after having sex he'd probably give you every cent in his pocket anyway.

As you closed the door you squealed to yourself , God how did you get so lucky? You were just happy wanted to get off to the real thing after touching yourself for months to the thought of him. To be honest, you've wanting to fuck him since you first met him. Saw his hard dick the very first time you were sitting on his thigh.

He paid you to take a day off, then a week off, then a monthly allowance. You quit to just get taken care by him. Never saw a bill, he just paid for it. Gave you enough money to feel secure if you ever split up. He made you an authorized user on his credit card so you could build your credit. Even with the age gap, you looked like a perfect couple walking down the street arm in arm.

Might do a more nasty part 2 LMAO

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bioluminescence | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season one — you thought all bellamy blake wanted was sex and other women, but when you sneak outside of the camp walls at night, bioluminescent plants are not the only shocking discovery you make, and not everyone is happy about it.

warnings: fluff, swearing, jealousy, mention of sexual themes, (L/N) use, roma

pairing: bellamy blake x reader

word count: 4.1k

Sleep was a rare luxury after you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to Earth, especially since you were all crowded in a small camp surrounding the drop ship. Teenage hormones, anger, violence, and trauma were not a great combination for peace. So, it was either crying, fistfights, or the incessant moans of couples who couldn't keep it in their pants for more than five minutes that usually kept you awake at night.

You were certain it was Bellamy Blake and his two model-looking female companions who were often to blame for that last subject. Although to everyone in the camp, it was very obvious that their relationship was solely physical, neither Roma nor Bree seemed to appreciate when other women talked, interacted with, or even sat near him. Clarke was a heavy target because of her co-leadership with Bellamy. And so were you.

You were within the inner circle, the informal 'Earth council'. You were also handy with a rifle and knowledgeable in tracking, so it wasn't exactly surprising whenever Bellamy took you with him on various missions and hunts. Sometimes though, he would bring you with him even if the task wasn't within your skillset—those were the times you were left feeling a little confused.

Nevertheless, a small friendship sprung from it. You weren't best buddies, but you weren't opposed to each other's company either. That was a big no-no to Roma and Bree and they frequently expressed that fact through passive-aggressive tactics.

This night was no different from others. Thankfully, it was the never-ending fistfights that kept you awake instead of other's carnal endeavours. You opened the flap of your tent and stepped out into the crisp air; autumn was definitely approaching. Hugging your jacket closer to your body, you looked around the camp, unsure of where to wait out the commotion. Everywhere was taken, so you decided a brief walk in the woods wouldn't hurt. Well, you hoped it wouldn't. At least if the Grounders killed you, you would finally get some undisturbed rest.

As you made your way over to one of the fence-wall openings, you ran smack-bang into a barely dressed girl with long brown hair. Roma.

"Watch where you're going, bitch," she spat, scrutinising your appearance from top to bottom.

Ignoring her lovely remark, you eyed her jeans and the way her upper half was only covered by a grey sports bra. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not now I'm not." She smirked, eyes flickering to Bellamy's tent.

You grimaced. I so didn't need to know that.

Right on cue, Bellamy emerged from his tent, fully clothed. He scanned the surroundings before his hardened gaze briefly landed on Roma and then settled on you; it was impossible to miss the way his face softened when your eyes met. Strange.

"Jealous?" she asked, regaining your attention.

"Unlikely."

You brushed past her, though she made an effort to forcefully knock your shoulder and spit another curse at you. Classy.

Bellamy took a step toward you. "Hey—"

But you simply moved past him, continuing toward the wall and saying, "A real gem you've got yourself there."

At least Bree was all bark and no bite.

You could hear him sigh as the distance between you both grew.

Truth be told, you were a little jealous. An unfortunate truth but still a truth all the same. You knew you were beginning to feel something deeper for Bellamy and it was becoming difficult listening to other girls brag about their nights with him. Not like you would ever tell him though—he wasn't a relationship type of guy and as far as you could tell, his feelings for you were platonic.

Never mind. You could settle for his friendship... for now.

You had made it outside the camp walls. At first, you planned on circling the fence for a while, but when your eyes caught on something glowing from the opposite side of a tree, you strayed from your path. Rounding the tree's trunk, you found a glowing neon-pink flower; the species of which you were unsure, but it was beautiful. Then, in your peripheral vision, there was something else lighting up your vision, something blue this time. There was another flower just a few trees away.

And again, you walked over to the strange plant, only to find yourself now on a journey that kept leading to more and more glowing flowers the deeper into the woods you trekked. They were almost everywhere and at this point, you were practically running with an excited grin on your face. In the near distance, numerous radiant colours lit up an area covered by a thick cluster of trees. You wove yourself through branches and leaves, pushing your way into the bright section of the woods.

Once you emerged from the trees, amazement morphed into your expression. You had stepped into a small meadow filled with glowing flowers of various colours that covered the forest floor. There were countless species, but they all shared the same mesmerising radiance. Much to your disbelief, there were even electric blue luminous butterflies that concealed the tree trunks and fluttered in the air.

"Bioluminescence," you whispered to yourself.

It was so beautiful, you could have cried.

Maybe you should just leave the camp and build a hut here. It would certainly beat living with the others.

As you moved further into the small clearing, the butterflies flew closer around you. Holding out an arm, one butterfly tentatively circled your hand before landing in your palm. You laughed in amazement, watching as the small creature curiously crawled across your hand and ticked your skin. Okay, that settled it—you were definitely a Disney princess.

The sound of branches snapping and leaves rustling suddenly pulled you from your amazement; it was coming from where you had entered the clearing. You reached down to your belt only to find the knife holster on it empty. Of course, you didn't bring your knife. You had left the camp's safety and didn't even think to bring a weapon. So stupid.

Before you could reprimand yourself any further, a tall figure emerged from the tree line. The tight dark blue shirt was an easy identifier as to who the figure was. And so were those deep brown eyes.

It was Bellamy. "Woah."

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling your tensed body relax again.

His gaze swept across the vivid tree-encompassed meadow, sharing the same wonderous expression you once had. The overpowering glow from the butterflies turned his tanned skin a light blue, defining the contours of his face and arm muscles. He sort of looked otherworldly.

"What are you doing out here?" you asked.

The incident before you left camp quickly returned to mind and it was evident in the slight irritation etched on your face. He didn't need to respond for you to realise that he had followed you. Great. His little girlfriends were going to have a field day tomorrow if they saw him come after you.

Bellamy's eyes found yours, taking note of your negative reaction. His steps were cautious as he began walking towards you. "I could ask you the same thing."

He stopped in front of you, peering down through a few stray strands of dark brown hair whilst wearing his infamous lazy smirk. No wonder girls were always fawning over him; he was gorgeous, and he damn well knew it too. Even you were falling into the very same trap. Unlike them, though, it was the moments you shared with him when you were alone that conjured your attraction to him. Sure, he was easy on the eyes, but you had also learnt that he was surprisingly a decent human being. More than decent actually, despite how he presented himself to others.

He treated you with respect—a lot more than many others had ever done. You had learnt to trust each other, communicate effectively, and work as a team. Sometimes, you would even find yourselves discussing things that you both intended to keep within till the day you died, things that felt too intimate to share with anyone else.

No matter how much you hated it, you couldn't help but develop feelings for him. Even when it seemed he was preoccupied with other women.

Bellamy eyed you, waiting for the snarky retort he knew you were putting together.

You sighed and turned around, crouching on the floor to inspect one of the neon-pink flowers. "Shouldn't you be teaching Roma and Bree gun handling safety in your tent right now?"

That line was dangerously close to sounding like jealousy and you knew it. You bit your tongue because Lord knows you were most likely to expose your feelings for Bellamy through word vomit.

If only you had been facing him to witness the shame washing through his eyes.

"Funny," he said. "But no. I've got more important things to do."

"Like what? Making sure your best hunting partner doesn't get killed by glowing plants?" you joked, glancing over your shoulder to see his reaction.

It wasn't a grin or smirk like you expected. Not even a little chuckle. Instead, he simply stared at you with this intense look in his eye; it was almost sad but also like he was trying to communicate something to you telepathically.

"Something like that," he murmured.

After those words left his mouth, something about the atmosphere shifted. You suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion and his soul-piercing stare was not helping. There wasn't a wide selection of movies on the Ark, but you had watched them all, including all the romance movies. The only thing you could compare Bellamy's gaze to was Mr. Darcy's in Pride and Prejudice. Reluctance. Longing. It was all there. Had you been completely wrong about his feelings for you? Or were you just imagining it?

The likelihood of Bellamy sharing your same feelings seemed impossible, so you chalked it up to your wishful imagination.

You stood back up, facing him but avoiding making eye contact. "Well, I—uh," you stammered. "I'm not going back. Not yet."

"I didn't come here to take you back."

That made your gaze meet his.

Why did you come then, Bellamy? you thought.

He side-stepped you and you turned to see him wandering deeper into the meadow. He began observing each and every beauty and oddity the small sanctuary held, touching the petals of every flower with a delicateness you had never witnessed before. Soon enough, you felt compelled to join him.

The two of you must have spent an hour in that meadow, inspecting each species of flora, hovering your fingertips through the glowing cusp of each plant as if you could feel its light on your skin, laughing together when a butterfly landed on the tip of your nose. Sometimes you caught Bellamy watching whenever your face lit up with excitement as you discovered something new. He never really looked at what you had found; he just looked at you, but you were too overjoyed to even contemplate why.

You felt like you had entered a dream, protected from the outside world where there were Grounders, war, and bitchy brown-haired girls. Everything real was forgotten, even your unrequited feelings for Bellamy. You just enjoyed his company in this dream and pretended it would last forever.

Somehow, you had both ended up lying on the forest floor side-by-side, surrounded by flowers as you stared up at the starry night sky through the tree crowns. It wasn't as cold as before; you guessed it was because of Bellamy's close proximity to you. One of his hands was behind his head, the other on his stomach. His warmth was radiating off his skin and onto your own.

You could have fallen asleep if you closed your eyes. Probably not the most logical idea though.

Bellamy's quiet, yet deep voice disrupted the silence. "It's just a distraction, you know?"

"Hm?"

"Those girls," he clarified, and you watched as his words turned to mist, carrying into the black sky. "If I focus too much on the fact that I have to control an entire camp of teenagers, fight a war against the Grounders, while taking care of Octavia and y—" he cut himself off, closing his eyes with a sigh. "I just feel like I start to lose myself."

Your focus shifted from the sky to him. Even he didn't seem to be looking at the sky anymore, despite his gaze still being pointed straight upward. He looked lost in his own thoughts. Serious and sombre—much different compared to how they had been just a short while ago.

"Well," you began softly. "We can't have that. You already seem a little rough around the edges, Blake."

A grin slowly formed across his lips and he shook his head. He turned his head to the side, looking down at your smiling expression from where he lay. The weightiness from before had melted from his demeanour. Because of a little distraction.

You had thought those two girls he spent most nights with were there purely for his own physical needs or because his attraction to them was greater than his self-control. Never had you contemplated the fact that it might have been because he was mentally struggling with the hardships of being a leader. Of course, how could you have? He had never told you before now.

Your brows furrowed. "Why tell me?"

The muscles in his jaw clenched and the grin fell from his lips. A sense of seriousness returned but this time it was less heavy. It seemed more like a weight was lifting from his shoulders. Like a declaration. Like a long-awaited confession.

You felt something warm brush against your hand; it gently grazed over your knuckles, lighting a fire beneath your skin. In Bellamy's dark eyes, you could see the reflection of his hand caressing your own and your heart leapt to your throat.

"Why do you think?" he murmured, his eyes flickering between your own, urging you to connect the dots instead of making him say it aloud.

Your lips parted and the crease between your eyebrows deepened. 

Every time he picked you first to be his partner on a mission, every deep conversation you shared when no one else was around—they all had a hidden meaning. All the times his hand brushed against yours as you walked in sync side-by-side, the times you caught him staring at you through a one-hundred-person dense crowd, or the way he would step in front of you as if to shield you whenever there was even a hint of danger—it was all because...

"Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah." His eyes flickered between yours before he turned back to the stars. "And I—I understand if you don't feel the same way; I know I haven't given you much reason to. From those girls to the... the radio, and the culling on the Ark. If I could take—"

His sentence was cut short as you leaned over him, pressing your lips to his. You could feel his pulse racing in his lips. Or was it your own? Probably both. Your hair fell to the side and his mouth started to move against your own. He began to rise, moving you up along with him until you were both kissing in a sitting position.

Bellamy's hand moved to cradle your jaw, his lips slow and tender. Everything felt like it had fallen into place, like this was exactly how things were supposed to be, with his lips on yours in the middle of a fairy-tale-like meadow whilst surrounded by a field of glowing flowers and beautiful winged creatures.

The butterflies weren't just circling you now, they were somehow fluttering around in your stomach too and it felt exhilarating.

Unfortunately, the kiss did have to come to an end at some point. Even so, the warm fluttering in your stomach never ceased. Bellamy had pulled away first, his hands gently falling from your jaw and back into his lap. He was looking at you and at first, you were afraid he would get up and leave, or tell you he had changed his mind. But he didn't. A smile crept across his lips—not a self-satisfied smirk or a tantalising grin, but a genuine smile.

Forget the butterflies; your stomach was doing somersaults now. He found your hand once more and interlocked it with his own in your lap. His thumb drew small circles on the side of your palm almost as if he knew you needed a reminder that this moment was really happening.

"That was my first kiss," you admitted.

His smile became a little nervous. "Was it okay?"

Was it okay? This boy was a little clueless if he couldn't tell that you thoroughly enjoyed having his lips on yours. So, you answered him with another soft peck to his lips, then pulled back again to see his reaction. He chuckled, nodding his head to say he understood.

"We can always come out here to practice if you want," he said, this time with a smirk.

You laughed. "I think that's a good idea."

He tucked a lock behind your ear and gently brushed pieces of hair away from your face. You could feel warmth creeping into your cheeks, turning them a rosy pink. Well, it was probably more of a violet hue due to the intense blue glow from the plants and butterflies. Either way, it still revealed how nervous he made you feel.

"It's getting late. We should probably head back and sleep," you said. Bellamy raised an eyebrow, creating his own little innuendo with your words and your eyes widened. "Not together! Alone, I mean. In separate tents. With clothes... on..." you trailed off, realising you were only digging yourself a deeper hole.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in embarrassment.

He just chuckled and rose to his feet. "Come on, (L/N). Let's go sleep."

You rolled your eyes with a smile as he helped you stand up with him.

For a brief moment, you gave the area one last look, imprinting the memory into your mind. Who could have guessed that when you left the camp walls you would enter a fairy tale of vivid colours and electric butterflies? Or, even more surprising, that Bellamy Blake would later confess his feelings for you? All you had wanted was an escape; instead, you got a dream come true.

Bellamy pressed a hand to your lower back, guiding you with him towards the tree line in comfortable silence.

The walk back to the drop ship was pretty quiet. No more words needed to be said; a conversation that clarified what you two were now could wait for tomorrow when your brains weren't clouded by fatigue and the fresh excitement from confession. Some things hadn't changed though. Bellamy still stole glances at you every now and then, as you did him, earning a nervous smile and blush each time either of you got caught. Your hands alternated from brushing against one another to ever-so-slightly linking pinkies.

Okay, maybe things had changed a little.

You passed each flower that had led you to the meadow and this time, they became less and less as you grew closer to the drop ship. As you came up on the camp walls, the sound of fighting and conversations had died down and was replaced by the faint crackling of dying fires.

Finally, you both stepped through one of the openings and were within the camp. There didn't seem to be anyone awake; with the way the moon was shining down straight overhead, it was clear why. 

Your pinkie fell from Bellamy's and you moved in front of him, taking a few slow steps backwards. "Uh, that's my tent over there," you said, gesturing behind you.

His eyes never left yours as he continued to walk toward you. "Yeah, I know."

"Oh, you know, do you?"

A grin stretched across his lips as he hummed and reached for your waist, pulling you against his body. Your hands wound around his neck, a smile present on your face as he leaned in, his lips mere inches from your own. His lips had just brushed against your own when someone behind you cleared their throat and you both jumped apart.

Bellamy peered beside your head, semi-glaring at the interrupter behind you.

What a surprise it was when you turned around to see Roma, arms crossed—clothes on, thankfully—and looking severely unhappy.

"You have got to be kidding me," she said with a scowl.

Perfect. Great. Absolutely fantastic. Looks like her field day had come early.

No way. You were too tired to deal with this. You gave Bellamy an apologetic glance before attempting to slip away through the gaps between tents. Unfortunately, it wasn't in Roma's best interest to let you off so easily. She caught your wrist and jerked you back toward her.

Bellamy looked like he was about to step in, but you beat him to it.

You tore your wrist from her grasp, words dripping with bitterness as you said, "Never do that again."

For a split second, she looked the slightest bit intimidated, but then quickly covered it up with disdain. Her gaze flickered from you to Bellamy; it was hard to miss the way she straightened her posture and tried to look more presentable for him.

And for a split second of your own, you felt the slightest twinge of fear that Bellamy would change his mind about you and leave with her again. But at that very same moment, he gently grabbed your hand and guided you back to his side, dissipating all your previous worries.

Both you and Roma looked down at your interlocked hands in disbelief.

"Listen, Roma." He sighed, sounding like he was desperately trying to keep his cool. "I think it's best if you and Bree find another tent to sleep in from now on."

Her disbelief turned into pure astonishment. "What? Are you serious?"

Bellamy lightly squeezed your hand.

God, he was putting this girl through the five stages of grief. You almost felt bad. Then you remembered the daily torment she had been putting you through just for existing and the remorse immediately washed away.

"Because of her? She's not even—"

"Choose your next words very carefully," he warned in a dangerously low voice.

Her mouth opened and shut a few times before she realised any insult thrown at you would end badly for her. It's not like Bellamy would hurt her, but he did have power over the camp, so he would probably force her to share a tent with Myles or something. His non-stop babbling would drive her to insanity.

She gave him a defiant look. "What if we don't want to leave?"

"I'll take the tent down and move it somewhere else."

"Then Bree and I will make both your lives a living Hell."

You could hear Bellamy suppress a laugh. "Unlikely," he echoed your previous words.

Roma looked to you as if you could help her case—the audacity. You gave her a sarcastic 'what-can-you-do?' shrug which just enhanced her seething temper. It was obvious that she was getting nowhere and the moment she realised, you swore you could see her ego literally deflating.

She made a short high-pitched noise of frustration and spun around, her hair whipping melodramatically through the air as she practically stomped back to Bellamy's tent. You could hear her call out to the other girl inside, telling her to 'pack her shit' and that they were moving tents. Not long after, the blonde-haired girl emerged from the tent flap holding a bundle of clothes. Roma must have explained to her what happened because they both shot a venomous glare in your direction and then walked off in search of another tent.

You sighed in relief as they disappeared out of sight. You were about to walk back to your own tent, but Bellamy tugged you back to him once more, his arms wrapping around your torso as your hands fell on his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought she'd handle it better."

You fiddled with the material of his shirt, half-smiling. "I told you she was a gem."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "My taste of women has been a little... questionable."

Your hands moved up to his shoulders, pulling your body up against his. His fingertips grazed the exposed skin of your waist, sending a wave of goosebumps across your body.

"You should really try breaking that trend."

He had that same intense look in his eye as when you were both in the meadow. This time it didn't hold any sadness or longing, but rather a sense of finality and affection, like his greatest wish had finally come true—that would make two of you. One of his hands moved to cup your cheek, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb as his face grew closer to yours.

The heart thumping in your chest almost gave out as you reflexively leaned further into his warm embrace.

"I already have," he murmured before his soft lips descended upon yours.

And the butterflies returned.

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Double The Fangs, Double The Fun

➳ Summary: Daryl and Scud are regulars at the bar you work at, but they're only really there for you. One night while chatting, you injure yourself, so they help you home to heal up (Vamp!Daryl & Vamp!Scud x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: idfk sometime, somewhere, no apocalypse (this is a crossover fic for smut lets be real)

➳ Word count: 5.5k (3k of it is smut)

➳ C/W: VAMPIRES ‼️‼️, minor wound, blood (duh), biting/vampire feeding, double penetration, hints of Scud's mommy kink

➳ A/N: I wrote doc title for this as “DTFx2” cuz of the lettering, not even realizing the “down-to-fuck” till later, plus it being 2 partners – I cooked on this title. BUT ANYWAY I AM FUELING THE VAMP!DARYL FIRE AND VAMP!SCUD TOO BECAUSE THIS IS A PLAGUE AND I AM ILL AND I WILL SPREAD IT

You stretched your arms up over your head, leaning forward against the counter in front of you. It was another slow weeknight, no customers present, hindered by the fact the bar was tucked away in some deader part of the city. It was pretty boring, but you got paid for kinda just diddleling around a lot of the time. You rhythmically tapped your fingertips against the surface, but straightened up when the door jingled open.

“Fuck, I was about to start praying you two would show up. ‘Ts borin' as shit in here,” You laughed as two familiar faces walked in from the night; Daryl and Scud. They were your regulars, stopping by most any time you were on shift. And you heard from coworkers sometimes they'd show up, see that you weren't there, and just leave.

You never found it creepy though, it wasn't like that. They were always very respectful towards you, kind of chivalrous, but not obnoxiously. They'd always buy a drink and tip heavy, or just straight up give you money – and would scare off the actually creepy drinkers: the one's that'd prey on a woman as if she was frail. You didn't require them, having pepper spray and a gun beneath the counter, but they gave you extra security. And we're good company.

Scud, who you knews real name was Josh – the more ‘loverboy’ one of the two – popped by most nights after work. He was really sweet, having grown a soft spot for him and letting him bend the rules; like allowing him to smoke a joint, or three, inside, so long as he shared them with you. He claimed he was a sort of engineer, which you found a little surprising given you'd never seen him without the skunky smell of weed wafting around his figure, but it's not like it mattered to you.

Daryl, on the other hand, was much more reserved, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't intrigue you. He appeared older, and more of a rarity, seeming to drift in and out of town: which made sense given that scratchy, deep southern accent he carried.

“Ain't gon’ pass up seein’ ya, moonshine,” Daryl grinned as he sauntered up to take a seat, Scud following right behind and taking the one opposite him. ‘Moonshine’ is what he always called you, given you were a bartender, and it was ironic because you never saw either of them till after sundown. “Shift slow?”

“Painfully,” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Ion even know how we get enough profit to keep this place open. Not sure anyone in our staff remembers the last time we saw the owner in person. I swear this is some money laundering scheme.”

“‘Least your gettin’ paid, yeah? My boss don't even got me onna regular schedule,” Scud tisked, reaching into the pocket of his large, layered jacket and pulling out the container he kept his joints in. “Ya wanna J?”: To which you nodded and he passed you one. Daryl's observant gaze watched your every movement, as he typically did.

“Ya get yer nails done, darlin’?” He asked, squinting his pale blue eyes and setting his hand out as you lit the joint.

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him, understanding, and you set your palm in his hand so he could see. Pressed to your nail beds were coffin acrylics, painted a rich red, the gloss making them almost bloody. “Jus’ got ‘em done this morning. Figured if ‘m gonna be sittin’ here twiddling my thumbs half the time they might as well look good.”

“Looks perfect on ya.” Your gazes locked together for a moment, hypnotic in a way as his irises seemed to pulse, then suddenly shift down. He loomed closer and ran his thumb over your fingers, appreciating the gleaming texture that reflected in the dim light.

“Real pretty momma's,” Scud added as he took a long drag of his smoke, holding it for a moment before skillfully exhaling in a long plume that dissipated and began to fill the small space with a haze.

“Mm, thank you boys,” You turned a little, offering a bashful smile at their endless complimenting – they showered you with affectionate comments every time they came in. “Either of you want somethin’? It can be on the house, think the workers drink more than customers.”

“‘Ll take'ah whiskey – ‘nd m’payin’ ya anyway, angel,” Daryl replied, fishing for his wallet and passing you bills that more than doubled the price of a shot. Frankly you felt bad sometimes, like you were taking his money, but gave up a long time ago with trying to decline. He insisted.

As you went to grab the iconic bottle of Jack Daniel's off the shelf behind you, your elbow stuck out a bit too far and knocked over a large glass you'd been using for water, sending it to the floor where it shattered. “Ugh, never complain that you're bored at work. Fate'll always make ya clean.”

You quickly poured the auburn grog into a shot and slid it across the wood countertop to Daryl, dropping to your knees to pick up the larger shards.

“Fuck!” You seethed, accidentally slicing open the palm of your hand by sweeping it over the edge of a fragment in the other, your joint nearly falling from where you'd pinched it between your lips. Both men bounded from their stools to look over, simultaneously uttering ‘Ya alrigh's?''s. You half-clutched your fist and rose to be level again, hitching your breath with a small whine as striking pain electrified your nerves.

Blood quickly began to spill from the gash, running down your wrist and upper forearm before dripping to the floor a couple times as Daryl snapped to grab a clean rag from behind the bar so you could hold pressure, moving so fast he registered as just a whoosh. As your eyes were shut in pain, theirs were blown open, locked onto the crimson that tinted your skin. They could see the microscopic way it gushed a bit more from every beat of your heart.

Tendrils of that sweet, mind warping scent curled through the air and around the pair's bodies. God it smelled so damn good – you smelled so good. They didn't wish you harm, but they'd just been agonizingly waiting to someday, by some chance, get to smell the life-giving fluid that pumped through your veins without the blockage your skin created, keeping the complete experience inside of you. And they could only dream of getting to taste it…

You spun back to face them, and swore for a second, the color of both their blue eyes had altered to match the plasma soaking into the grey washcloth in your grip – their faces flat like they hadn't eaten in years and you just baited the idea of a gourmet feast. But once you blinked, they were back to azure, concern etched across eyebrows and frowns. Maybe it was just the shitty brilliance of the bar.

“‘M fine, jus’ being mindless I guess. Scud, how the hell are ya smokin’ and working with wires ‘n soldering shit,” You shook your head, blaming your incident on the brain fog from weed, although it was a poor excuse given it should not have taken effect that fast. Perhaps you were just embarrassingly locked on auto-pilot.

“Ya look like yer bleedin’ bad, princess. Lemme see.” Daryl beckoned you over and took your hand. His body tensed, that dangerous feeling of his canines extending creeping up. It took all he had to not press his mouth to you. He knew better, he had control. You let him remove the rag, examining the cut and finding it to be quite deep, him stating it might have to be closed

“We don't got any medical stuff here ‘sides maybe a few bandaids. I'd be surprised if anybody else came in ‘ere tonight so I'll just close up ‘n deal with it home. Sorry to cut our chat time short guys…” You gave a half frown, taking an unsteady inhale and trying to mask the aching in your extremity. You smothered the joint, enjoyment ruined.

“Don't gotta apologize mama's. Wantcha to be okay,” Scud commented, mirroring your expression. Looking between him and Daryl, you felt there was some synergy connecting them, like they were communicating despite both staring at you.

“Why don't we take ya home, mebbe have me patch tha fer ya, hm?” Daryl suggested, readjusting his leather jacket as he tilted his head slightly.

“Oh, no. I don't wanna bother either of ya with that…”

“‘Ts no bother, sugar. We wanna make sure you're safe. ‘Ts late, dark, ‘nd you're bleedin’. Don't want anythin’ bad happening to ya,” Scud explained, his every word ending on a sort of mewl as he plucked his joint from his mouth to speak clearly.

“Alright – just cause I know you two will follow me to check anyway.” You grabbed your things, Daryl and Scud helping to close up the bar so you didn't further injure yourself, then leaving with you. It was reasonable for them to come with, and this wouldn't be the first time. And this wasn't the safest part of town, so it wouldn't hurt to have them.

❥-》》—————➣

When you returned to your apartment, both of them praised your designing of the interior, having not been inside before. To you it wasn't much of anything special, but again, it was just in their nature to say kind things to you.

You nodded Daryl in the direction of your bathroom so he could grab some ointment and gauze, going to sit on the couch as Scud plopped beside you. You easily could've nursed it yourself, but if there was anything you really knew about Daryl, it was his tendency to always be doing favors – and not letting you decline.

“Y'know… I know a way tah make that heal faster than any dressings could,” Scud broke the silence, dragging his gaze over your frame, and landing on your hand where you still held the soiled rag. He couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't have the control that Daryl did.

“What do you mean?” You now faced him, confused at the way his breathing seemed to grow a bit heavier, chest puffing further out despite his lazy posture. But he straightened some, scooting closer to you and reaching for your hand.

“Just trust me on this…” He was salivating, bottom lip practically trembling with anticipation. He was so close, access to your fresh blood right there. God how he ached for it every time he saw your beautiful face, just so damn entranced by you. He tried not to completely lose his mind as he neared your palm.

“Um… yer gonna get it infected doin’ that.”

“Won't.” And his mouth hovered right above it.

“Seriously, Scud, what are you doing?” Now you were concerned, tempted to call Daryl back. Was this some weird sex thing? His way of trying to seduce you? Taking ‘kiss my boo-boo to make it feel better’ a bit too far. But you sensed this… energy, radiating off of him, drawing out your naïve trait of curiosity. Something felt different about him, although you guess it always did – but only now could you really perceive it, having him so close. “What are you? ”

Scud's eyes flicked up to yours, blue flipped across the scale of hues to match the color you'd caught a glimpse of at the bar – the color of your blood, and those flawless new nails. “Whadda ya think I am, sweetheart?”

As his lips peeled back with a grin, you could see the lengthy, pin-sharp fangs that descended from the roof of his mouth, glistening with his famine. Your mouth fell open, pupils dilating as realization worked through your brain. Oh shit. Oh, shit..? You didn't speak, but didn't know what to say anyway.

He chuckled at your reaction. “Jus’ relax, mama's.” Finally. His tongue darted out, dragging a long lick over the front of your wound, causing you to wince and jerk a little. It didn't particularly hurt, but was so odd at the start. Scud held back a moan, but couldn't help his remarks: “Mmm, you taste so good… bettah than I ever imagined…”

You swallowed thickly, watching him work saliva over your tender flesh, and lapping away any remnants of the blood that ran down your arm. He stared intensely into your eyes as he drew a long, excessively slow lick up your limb and back to the wound. You felt it begin to radiate, an unfamiliar warmth centralizing over the cut but spreading out into your entire palm.

He brushed his lips against your fingers with a featherlite kiss, and reluctantly pulled away, letting you watch branches of skin connect together from both sides, color quickly shifting back to your normal tone, and your hand completely unscathed. You flexed your tendons, feeling it for yourself. It was completely healed, a two-week time lapsing into under a minute.

“Why'd ya show ‘er.” Daryl's voice was stern, silently standing behind the couch and startling you as you whipped around. You should've figured – it wouldn't take that long to find simple first aid in your bathroom.

“Known ‘er for long enough, D. Why let'er suffer with some gash if we can just heal it for her?” Scud replied and shrugged innocently. But his wording was key; ‘we’.

“You're both vampires,” You nodded dryly as Daryl grumbled something under his breath and came around the couch to sit on the other side of you. Now the ‘moonshine’ was really ironic. “Okay… I assume if you were gonna drain me ya woulda done it by now.”

“Don't tempt me, baby,” Scud smirked, and Daryl shot him a harsh glare. “What? Sure she appreciates the healin’ at least!”

“Yeah, I do… but it's weirdly intimate, no? Just, wetly runnin’ yer tongue all over someone, gathering saliva on their skin, tastin’ the irony remnants of their blood-”

“Quit talkin’ like that,” Daryl hissed, your sight passing back to him, watching his adam's-apple bob and his jaw tense. His eyes reddened as well, and it dawned on you how teasing your choice of dialogue must've been for them.

“Or keep goin’. Like hearin’ your gorgeous voice say such pretty words,” Scud wet his lips, volume just above a whisper. You felt trapped between two sides of a spectrum, both equally covet… and you were way more into it than you would ever want to admit. Your jaw laxed with a weary breath, mind wandering further ahead than you liked it to. “But you're right, can be real intimate.” His voice dropped lower as he neared you, keeping sights intertwined.

“You're torturing me momma's… pleas’... would give anythin’ to feel ya,” He almost whimpered, puppy dog eyes peering up at you. “He would too, he's jus’ a lil’ more shy.”

It'd be the fattest lie of your life to say you didn't find him attractive, both of them. Closing the door behind you some nights after they'd walked you home, tempted to just bring them inside. How many times you muttered dirty words as your legs tangled in your bedsheets and you touched yourself, imagining how they'd sound in Scud's whiny hitches, or Daryl's gravelly grunts…

You reached up, taking Scud's chin in the light hold of your acrylics and bringing his mouth to yours. He directly melted, turning to puddy from that alone and cravingly dabbing your lips with his tongue. When you pulled back, he tried to follow, pining for more. But you wanted to be fair, and switched to the other man.

Daryl looked like he didn't know what to do, that effort of displaying confidence broken the second the gate he'd been waiting outside of for so long actually opened. But a quick ‘C'mere’, and the curling of your pointer finger brought him to you expeditiously, rough lips chafing over your moisted ones. He shoved away his groan, not quite ready for that yet.

“This ain't gonna stop at kissin’, right?” You checked on an exhale, both their eyes boring into you from either plane, the patterns of their breathing reworking themselves. Dropping it here would be teasing you now.

“S’ain't gon’ stop less ya want it to, moonshine,” He rasped, irises captivating and luring you back to him, clawed hand coming to his cheek – that made the groan slip. He inhaled sharply, ardently guiding his tongue into your mouth, which definitely made Scud jealous.

The engineer brought his hands to your waist, toying with the seams of your shirt as Daryl harshly tugged you closer to him, gaining momentum, growing hungrier. He explored the entire cavity of your mouth, feeling the heat of your gums, the smoothness of your teeth in comparison to his canines, and drew a moan from your throat, hints of a smile crinkling.

“Yer not good at hidin’ whatcha want, honeysuckle,” The southerner purred, trailing down to your jawline as Scud's lips pressed to the nape of your neck. You weren’t sure if he could tell by your body language, or was able to read your mind or something; all the near whorish thoughts running through your psyche.

“Then you should know how long I've thought about this.”

Daryl immediately hooked his strong arms under your thighs, shoving Scud back to stand up off the couch, your legs instinctively latching around his torso as he started to leave a hickey on your neck and find his way to your bedroom.

Scud awkwardly stood behind for a second, shyly glancing to the floor, feeling literally and figuratively pushed aside by the other's dominance. “C'mon Scuddy,” You mouthed, and he looked like he came in pants right there – hurdling to track after you.

Daryl roughly threw you onto the edge of your bed, simultaneously ripping your shirt up over your head. He reached down for the button of your jeans, quickly popping it out and tearing them off, leaving you in just your lacey, red bra and panties.

“Jeez, you ‘nd fuckin’ red, woman.” He bordered on a growl, sliding off his jacket and tossing it to the floor. You sat upright on the rim the mattress, aiding Scud in dropping his many layers, but he teetered like he just wanted to fuck himself senseless with all it still on.

Both them now shirtless, you raked your nails down their chest, taking extra notice to follow the lightning-like scars carved into Scud's abdomen to your left. You let out a breathy curse at their defined v-lines and mouthwateringly sexy happy trails, discarding Daryl's belt, and gently cupping his pulsing erection through his jeans – the same through Scud's cargos.

One twitched, then the other, and you chuckled. “You two really want me that bad, huh?” You questioned, beaming up through your lashes with a flirty smirk: but that mischievous temping simmered seeing the pure lust on their features. They looked like they were gonna eat you alive, and honestly… you wouldn't mind it.

You undid their pants to drop them down, and with some sort of unspoken permission translating between the three of you, they pounced forward, resistance snapping like twigs. Scud hauled your body up the bed and instantaneously found your lips, already gasping into your mouth. His hands each found one of your breasts, fondling and pawing impatiently through your bra.

Daryl grabbed your hips, tugging you back down a little and drawing a wet lick from the hem of your panties up your navel, holding you to him as your spine arched. He kissed and sucked at the delicate skin on your pelvis and inner thighs, leaving behind litters of those gentle bruises on the surface, spotting across the curves of your body. His fangs grazed you as he worked, a persistent reminder of what a feral vampire could just take from you – but he was a humble man, and prefered to give.

You directed Scud to strip your bra, given he'd basically lost all ability to function the second your clothes were off, and even worse once he was on you. Now with your chest fully out, he was gone. He greedily sucked one nipple into his mouth, kneading the other like a cat, while Daryl curled a finger around the hem of your panties, deliberately running from side to side before he suddenly ripped them away – literally ripped. “Promise ‘ll buy ya new ones, babydoll.”

Whatever deeply guttural noise that erupted from you when Daryl's tongue made contact with your cunt was everything but holy. Your hips bucked up into his face so rapidly it almost caught him off guard, his palms splayed out on your thighs and his mouth latched onto your clit. He sucked in rapid pumps, before trawling down then back up and spreading your folds. He lapped up every bit of your pooled wetness, taking a deep inhale and the hidden claws in his fingertips nearing shooting out as his toes curled.

“Fuck! Yer pussy smell's'so fuckin’ good.” His words came out as near snarls, reverberating against your core. Should the view of him not have been obscured by Scud, you're sure you would've came at the sight of him so deeply intoxicated by just the scent of you. “‘Nd tastes so goddamn lovely.”

“‘Ts not fair, man, ah wanna taste ‘er-”

“Nah. Ya got ‘er hand, pussy's mine.” Now he was snarling, possessive crimson eyes stabbing into the other man as he'd turned to look back at him, burying himself deeper into your cunt and earning another wild moan. Scud frowned a little, but you brought your hands to his hips and readjusted him to be sitting on your chest, legs on either side of your body.

“Don't worry, baby.” And you rolled down his boxers so his dick was free: fully hard, tip swollen up and flushed with color, absolutely weeping for you, and it bobbed with a twitch. You wrapped your hand around the base, giving a few pressurized strokes as he bowed forward over your head and straight up whimpered in your ear, aching and pulsing and starved of touch and attention.

“Oh-.. God, momma's… t’so good…” He wove his fingers through your hair to tug lightly at the roots and anchor himself. But the second you put your tongue on him, he jerked forward and shoved into your mouth, cumming abruptly. He couldn't help it, you were; “Jus’ so warm…”

Still you swallowed it down, swiveling the tip of your tongue along the underside of his head, prolonging his high. You weren't surprised; with how frenzied he was, acting like he'd been edged for far too long – which you supposed he had, based on how he talked earlier – you pegged him for the kind to cum fast. He probably wanted you to actually peg him too.

Daryl tipped a domino by chuckling at the early orgasm, the sound waves making you moan around Scud's cock, which in return made him slide a bit deeper again. Daryl started to hum, and removed one hand from your thigh to slip two girthy fingers into you, curling them up and pressing into that sensitive spot in your walls. He focused his mouth on your clit, drawing it in with suction while he rapidly wagged his tongue, soon pumping his fingers in and out of you, and your moans picked up.

The shallow edge of Scud's claws inched further out and held your skull, careful to not scrape into your skin, but exigent nonetheless. His breathing descended into ragged heaving against the side of your head as you worked his cock like you knew every little thing that got him going.

“Getch'yer dick outta her mouth so Ah can hear ‘er cum,” Daryl barked, breaking contact from you for just a moment. Scud groaned, wanting so badly for you to deepthroat him, but he shifted over to the side, knowing Daryl would forcibly do it anyway. Now he moved impossibly faster, fingers stretching you open and filling the bedroom with wet noises from how he had you dripping.

Getting to hear you clearly now sent him into overdrive, grunting against your clit while Scud just laboriously returned to toying with your boobs. “C'mon girl, jus’ cum. Cum fer me. Wanna see yer gorgeous face.”

“Jesus, Daryl-” Your sentence split, and you cried out, trembling legs coming together and forcing him flush against you. You rode his face, a hand flying down to tug at his shaggy locks and assisting you in rolling your hips. He clutched you bruisingly hard, nearing ripping into you.

When your limbs relaxed again, he lavished long licks over your cunt, swirling the tangy, sticky nectar of your release over his entire mouth. “Mos’ perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“Pleas’ mommas, can I fuck ya?” Scud pleaded, cupping your face to catch his distress. Sharing was hard when one party was so much more controlling. Poor thing needed you.

But seeing Daryl yank down and discard his boxers, hard cock visibly throbbing and tip shaded red, he needed you too. And you could tell a blowjob just wouldn't settle it for either of them. “Fuck, just-.. both of you fuck me.”

“Can ya handle two, sweetheart?” Daryl exhorted, swiping a strayed bit of hair from your forehead and deftly tucking it back, slightly softened eyes checking for sincerity in your expression. With your nod, they acclimated to desire once again.

He flipped onto his back, and manhandled your body overtop of him, your back flattened on his chest, and Scud hurriedly positioning above. Daryl kept your legs spread apart with his, reaching around and palming at your breast while going down to slick himself between your soaked folds, slapping himself against you a couple times. “Ya tell us if s'too much, alrigh’?”

“Yea, yeah- please, just fuck me already,” You wailed as he angled you down and slipped deep into you, Scud giving you a second to adjust before coating spit over his shaft, and gently guiding into you as well.

Your back arched as Daryl held you firm, whining in delectable pain as they strained you further open than you ever had been, your acrylics digging into his waist beneath you. Scud layered himself onto you, sucking another hickey into your chest then rocking his hips a couple of times.

When you handled it well, Daryl took it as a cue to join him, plodding more in his thrusts to still give you the opportunity to bail if this wasn't to your liking. Your eyelids fluttered closed, head lulling back to rest on Daryl's shoulder as your heavy breaths fell in line with the pace. When Scud pushed in, Daryl would pull out, and vice versa: always keeping you full while maintaining the motion that granted so much ecstasy to you three. Every one of their filthy noises sounded incomprehensibly better than you'd ever pictured.

Scud mewled against you, head buried into your breasts and giving quick pecks or licks any time he wasn't being uncontrollably vocal. Daryl did the same, groaning into your shoulder and hair.

“Takin’ us so good, arentcha darlin’? So wet, pussy so tight,” Daryl hushed into your ear, hooking up faster and faster following each of his thrusts like the speed was on a multiplier.

You twisted fingers in the back of Scud's head, triggering a loud whine when you tugged on the roots of this hair and that metal choker he always wore. He started to waver, weakly humping you like his brain was fried and just focusing on staying as deep inside you as he could. “Mmm… mommy, I… ‘m so hungry. Please…” The hinges of his jaw started extending on their own, humid exhales dampening an area by your neck. Tasting hints of your blood earlier spawned a black hole that decimated the sinkhole he'd previously had caving in over time. In the near year he'd known you, that urge to just feed from your tender flesh was all he ever thought about. And now, warm walls of your cunt wrapped around him, urging him to another orgasm… He couldn't wait much longer, he was starving.

Daryl planted his feet to make up for Scud's faltering rhythm, the strengthful build of his hips and thighs making it easy to lift you. He was trying so hard to focus on just fucking you, but as the other vampire's imploring got the best of him, he started to follow suit. “Ya know yer'a damn tease, righ’ moonshine? Lookin’ so sexy all tha time, tha seductive scent ah yers… Fuck, I kno’ ya taste like heaven…” He craned his neck up, applying pressure to your carotid artery with his tongue, feeling everything he wanted pump through you at a rapid rate.

You took in a shaky breath, vivacity emanating from the both of them and encircling you. Their dicks throbbed inside of you, the drifter pistoning while the engineer hunched, but that just wasn't enough, and it made the craving so much more pressing. Their pairs of fangs rested on the edges of your skin, tracing over it, each on one side.

“Shit… just do it-.. Jus’ fuckin’ do,” You panted, and it happened so fast you barely even realized it. Scud's bite was eager, being more frantic and on your left: Daryl's more longing, savoring the feeling of piercing into your silky flesh on the right. They drew long siphons into their throats, sultry crimson flooding their systems as their eyes blazed a mutual color.

A strangled moan ripped from your being, your consciousness floating in a haze. Daryl fucked you faster, empowered by your smooth blood, grunting savagely as his razor-edged talons dug into your breasts, Scud's on your waist: but they were so careful to not rip you up.

“Mmmnngh… oh, gods momma, m’gonna cum…” Scud lost any last sense of his composure, curving his spine and slicking out of you to cum over your pelvis. He whimpered like an injured dog, anchoring himself with the teeth lodged in you, grinding against you a few times to ride out the bliss as he messied your body with lengthy ropes of white. Waves of body-wracking pleasure made him writhe around on your chest, lost in some other realm.

“Fuck… cum fer me again, dollface. Know yer good fer me,” Daryl mumbled against you, driving into your cunt with every newfound bit of liveliness he garnered from feeding on you. Your brain stopped working at this point – those red acrylic nails scratching at Daryl's thigh with your left, and Scud's back with your right.

You felt lightheaded, loss of ichor incapacitating you even as they'd ceased thirsting, just keeping fangs planted in your muscles. The crest of euphoria floated your soul to nirvana, Daryl's tip brushing past one specific golden point in your walls and shoving you off the cliff of your climax, tightening his hold on you as you bowed and bucked, vision stripped from your senses.

Your pussy spasmed and massaged around the southerner's cock, and with a final few abusing thrusts, he withdrew and spilled his own load over your folds, resistant moans rumbling from his vocal cords. All three of your chests heaved intensely, fighting to steal any oxygen from the lust-filled atmosphere of your bedroom.

Daryl's hands drifted to your midsection to push up and roll Scud off of you to the left, knowing he was too much of a fucked out mess to do it himself. He gently laid you between the two of them, smoothing a caring hand over your chest and pressing a kiss to your upper arm. “Ya feelin’ okay, moonshine? Didn't take too much, righ’?”

“Yea, ‘m good.., jus’ need a minute,” You wheezed, eyes shut and soma trying to recuperate. Daryl peeled himself from the bed, going to wet a rag, and fetch some water and food. Returning, he compassionately cleaned away the cum smeared across your curves, supporting you as he helped you drink and all – then gathered extra layers of healing saliva over your puncture wounds just to make sure they'd seal over.

He soothed you by tracing patterns with his calloused palm, the three of you resting for a long while and wrapping thoughts around what just happened.

Scud snaked his arm around yours and cuddled right up against your side, keeping lips pressed against you with his whiny hums. “Wanna feel more'ah ya mommas…” To only say he was needy was an understatement, he was full on reliant – vampiric endurance adapting the role of an exponent for such.

“Let ‘er rest.”

You brought your nails to Scud's scalp, gently scratching his head and he practically began to purr. Even if Daryl shoved him off, you appreciated how benevolent he was to you, and could tell he felt less-than right now, lacking your focus. “That spit of yours work on swellin’ too?”

He nodded with a mumbly ‘Mhm…’

“Then how bout'cha lick my pussy till it feels better, ‘nd we'll keep goin’ till botha ya are ran dry, hm?” You suggested, planting a kiss on the top of his head and sensing the energy shift.

And they were both on you all over again in an instant.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s. reid

(chapter two, feels like)

‘I would do whatever you wanted we don't have to leave the apartment, met you at the right time,this is what it feels like. Livin' in a movie I've watched and funny 'cause I couldn't have called it, met you at the right time, this is what it feels like’

summary; the more time you spend with spencer the more you find yourself opening up even if its to the littlest things, you let him know you, and he loves it.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationship history, reader is closed off, avoidant!reader, lowkey a friends w benefits situation but its so much more, reader is lowkey so real; fluff, 18+ suggestive content. it is not the date i said id publish this, i was peer pressured (by my multiple personalities)

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee e @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15

2.6k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST

You weren't sure how long you had been at Spencer's apartment for, if someone told you had been there for hours you probably wouldn't believe them. You didn't completely understand why but everytime he was around it was like time slowed, yet it seemed to only go so much faster. Hours with him felt like minutes. It was like you and him existed in your own little bubble away from the rest of the world, you loved that.

Everything with him seemed calm. Maybe it was his way of making you see the positive in a bad situation, or maybe it was how carefully and gentle he handed when your emotions got a little too much for you to bury away like normal, maybe it was how gentle and warm his hands felt against your skin, grounding you when you got a little too in your head about something, or maybe it was the way he would ramble off facts to distract you.

You weren't sure. You didn't know how someone could be so calm, all the time. Then you would connect it back to what he did for work. It was technically his job to remain calm in stressful or overwhelming situations. You wondered if that was why he handled you with so much care, as if you were a valuable he was afraid would break. Its not like he walked on egg shells around you, it was just that he saw you with so much value, he treated you so delicately.

Maybe thats why you had lost track of time.

You were perched up on his lap, your knees placed on either side of his thighs, straddling him. One of his hands was tangled beneath the softness of your hair, cupping the back of your head as his fingers curled against your scalp, while the other was wrapped around your waist, pressed against the small of you back. Hold you aganist him as his lips tangled with yours.

Your hands were cupping his jaw, every now and again your fingertip would trace the sharpness of his jawline and he would shiver and press you closer against him. He kissed you like he needed it to breath, you could feel the air leaving his nose against the skin of your cheek every now and again.

You felt lightheaded, in the best way possible. Whether it was from the very minimal amount of air you had been able to breathe in since he started kissing you, or if it was simply from the feeling of his lips against yours.

The air around you smelt sweet and full of him. Maybe thats why you loved being at his apartment, because everything there was so.. Him. The way it was organised and decorated, the smell of him that hid in the air between the walls, the colours of the cushions on his couch, it was all so him.

You pulled away from the kiss briefly as a thought crossed your mind, there was almost a shaky gasp for air, now that you were able to properly breath. He smiled lazily as he leant his head back against the couch, watching you. Probably admiring the flush of your cheeks, and the swell of your lips.

"Are you okay?" He asked, a smile still on his face yet his eyebrows were pinched in concern. Spencer's hand untanging from your hair, both of his hands moving to settle on your hips, his thumbs nudged up the hem of your t-shirt and slipped underneath them to rub gentle circles against the skin on your sides, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded, your hands dropping from his face to rest against his shoulders. You weren't sure if you were blushing, but you defintely felt like you were. You couldn't remember the last time a guy had this sort of an effect on you.

You looked down sheepishly, your hands gently brushing over the fabric of his t-shirt. "Im- Im just thinking about sugar cookies." You huffed out. Was it silly? Yes. But there was something about Spencer that made it feel so safe to say those silly things too, without judgement. Your eyes lifted to meet his, seeing the concern on his face was replaced with amusement.

He raised his eyebrow, a smile on his lips. "Kissing me makes you think about sugar cookies?" He asked, your eyes widened slightly at his tease, you instantly shook your head lips parting as you let out a huffy breath.

"No!" It came out high pitched and defensive and made Spencer burst into laughter. If you weren't blushing before you were now. You didn't know if you love or hated the fact that Spencer could make you feel so soft, so small, so loved. You partly hated the fact that he had that sort of power, yet if you were going to trust anyone with that sort of control over you, it would be him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face into your neck. Your arms wrapped around his neck, moving up to run gently through the back of his hair as he pressed soft kisses against your neck. The sensation causing you to instinctively tilt your head to the side to allow him more access to the space.

"We can go get sugar cookies" He mumbled gently, against the skin of your neck, pressing another kiss there before he pulled back, looking up at you. “If you want sugar cookies we can go get some”

You smiled at him, tilting your head a little. “I didn’t say I wanted them. I just said i was thinking about them” You quipped back. You did want sugar cookies, but did you want to leave the warmth of Spencer’s apartment to get them? No. Did you want to have to make him go out of his way just to get you sugar cookies? Also no.

“But you do” He replied, raising his eyebrow in amusement. Maybe he knew you better than you thought. “You wouldn’t have mentioned it unless you wanted them.” He replied in a slight - matter of factually way, as if he was proving you wrong.

You huffed, “We don’t have to go to the shops just to get sugar cookies. I can get some on my way home later.” You mumbled, knowing your house was technically in the other direction to the closest shops. You also didn’t entirely want to think about having to go home yet, you didn’t have to, not for a few hours more.

He sighed dramatically as he raised his eyebrow, a smile of amusement on his lips. “What sort of almost- boyfriend would I be if I let you stay here craving sugar cookies?” He teased, you smiled.

The title he had given himself didn’t offend you in the slightest. Instead it made your heart warm slightly and your cheeks flush. You sighed dramatically like he had moments ago, pretending to think about it for a moment, before shrugging.

“A horrible- horrible one.” You answered, a smile on your lips, giving in — because you were really craving the sweet treat. He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head before he pressed his lips gently against the top of your forehead.

“Well we can’t have that. I’m trying to win your heart here.” He mumbled, voice full of fondness while he teased, as you moved off his lap. You let out a hum of agreement, as you got off the couch, he followed behind you, standing up and reaching to hold your hips as you walked towards the front door.

If you weren’t so focused on the task at hand (getting sugar cookies and clenching your craving) you might’ve admitted he didn’t have to try to win your heart. You were pretty sure it had his name written over it months ago.

“I didn’t know there were so many different types of sugar cookies” Spencer mumbled as he looked over the multiple different brands and flavours of cookies placed neatly over the grocery store shelf, his arms we’re wrapped tightly around your waist, his chin placed on you shoulder as you tried to decide which ones you wanted.

You let out a hearty laugh, “They don’t have any normal ones” You half pouted as you looked over the shelves, unable to find the ones you were specifically craving. You leant back slightly to further press your back against Spencer’s chest.

“What defines normal sugar cookies?” Spencer asked, tone laced with confusion. Clearly he wasn’t a sugar cookie fanatic. Your head turned slightly to face him, the awkward position causing a slight ache in your neck but it was worth it at the sight of his eyebrows pushed together in confusion as he looked over the variety of packaged cookies.

“The.. normal ones?” You shrugged, he let out a chuckle as he placed a gentle kiss against your clothed shoulder. You weren’t sure how you could better describe the cookies. You didn’t want the chocolate ones, or the strawberry ones, or the matcha ones which looked cool — but unappealing, you just wanted the normal authentic ones.

“Oh yeah— My bad. I should’ve known that” He huffed out half sarcastically, the other half of his tone was full of fondness. As he pulled away from your shoulder, turning you slightly in his arms so he could look at your face, there was a playful smile on his lips.

“Well- no! i meant- Like the normal ones” You weren’t helping your case, or him understanding. He just mhm’d and nodded unconvincingly, the playful smile remaining on his lips. He was teasing you.

You huffed out, “I hate you” you muttered, pushing yourself away from his arms to further prove the statement you both knew was a lie. He apologised quickly and reached out for you, holding you close in place, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing you close against his chest as he hugged you.

“You are so mean to me”

It came out mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, and caused a laugh to pass through his lips. “Im sorry. Let’s go find somewhere with the cookies you want.” He said, his hand rubbing up and down over your back.

“We can just get one of these.” You mumbled. He had already gone out of his way to take you to get sugar cookies and the last thing you wanted to do was make him go someplace else just because they didn’t have the specific ones you wanted.

He shook his head as he leant away, not before pressing his lips against your forehead. “We can get both. We can get whatever you want.” He said, looking down at you as he continued to run his hand gently up and down your back.

Every expectation you once had of a relationship was squashed by Spencer’s existence. Any standard you had in your mind he surpassed with flying colours, he was better than any guy you could make up in your head.

Every broken piece of you seemed put back together at the gentleness of his hands, the warmth of his body, the sweetness in his words, or the feeling of his lips against your skin. It was weird, feeling so secure in something so unofficial.

You opened your mouth to reply but you were cut off by the sound of Spencer’s name being called. You watched his eyebrows furrow in recognition of the female voice before his head turned slightly, towards the direction the sound came from.

You followed his gaze, seeing a blonde girl walking towards the two of you. Her arms were stacked full of items, rather than getting a basket or a cart for any of it. She was wearing a bright pink dress with designs over it. Her smile was infectious.

Spencer looked back at you for a second, his arms dropping from your waist, you would’ve felt the pang in your heart if his hand didn’t instantly reach out to interlace with your own. “Garcia, Hi.” He smiled, almost nervously.

You stood silently as the blonde woman looked between the two of you, a wide smile on her face as a gasp left her lips. “Oh my gosh! Who’s this? Is this your girlfriend? The secret message sender?” She rambled out excitedly.

You watched with a warm smile as Spencer’s cheeks tinted red. You only assumed you had developed that nickname because you had texted Spencer while he was working a few times.

“Uh- Shes.. Yeah- uh.” Spencer spluttered over his words, he didn’t know what to address you as and you understood why. Although he called himself your almost- boyfriend a number of times, telling his friend you were his almost - girlfriend wasn’t quite the same. The situation you were in didn’t quite have a title. Him not denying you were something to him, was enough for you.

You saved him the embarrassment and smiled at the woman, offering her your hand with a warm smile as you introduced yourself. She almost squealed in excitement, instantly shaking your hand enthusiastically.

“I’m Penelope! I work with boy genius here— Oh my gosh. Do you know he basically dies every time you text him. I mean I have never seen him smile so—“

“Thats- enough. I think she gets it” Spencer cut Penelope off, his cheeks now bright red and his voice was laced with embarrassment. It only made your smile widen because of the way it further proved what she was saying. The idea of Spencer simply smiling at your messages while he was away made your heart warm.

“Theres no normal sugar cookies.” You mumbled out, not really knowing what to say. You wanted to slap yourself in the face afterwards. Then Penelope looked over the shelves and a pout formed on her lips.

“What! Thats the whole reason I came here!!” She frowned dramatically as she looked over the shelves and any embarrassment you had felt washed away because she was so sweet. You had heard about the people Spencer had worked with before, he never failed to tell you the silly stories or conversations that were shared between his team.

“Us too.” Spencer smiled, squeezing your hand gently. You relished in the silent reassurance he offered. Then his phone started to ring, causing a slightly annoyed huff to leave his lips as he pulled it away from his pockets, his other hand staying interlocked with yours.

Your eyes stayed on him as he answered the call, you listened to him mumble a few words of agreement before the call ended just as quickly, before he could ever say anything, Penelope’s phone started to ring. She struggled to pull it out over the amount of items in her arms, but successfully did before you could offer to help.

“We have a case” Spencer mumbled gently to you, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of disappointment and understanding. He looked just as disappointed, if not more. “Thats okay.” You said gently, Penelope seemed to be finding out the same news.

“I’m sorry” Spencer apologised as he broke his hands holding with yours to wrap his arms around your shoulders, you melted into the hug as your arms threaded around his torso. Breathing him in.

“It’s okay. It’s your job.” You reassured him.

His arms held you tighter for moment before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and then another. “I’ll take you home first, pick whichever sugar cookies you want from here and I promise when I get back I will return with normal sugar cookies” He said gently into your hair.

“Pinky promise?” You asked, he let out a warm laugh, kissing the top of your head against your hair again.

“Pinky promise.” He confirmed.

[megutime]

one bed | ft. rin

tags. fluff , itoshi rin x gn!reader, self indulgent

a/n. rin brain rot is real. i wrote this at 3 am so expect errors !! <3

rin had managed to get a one week break from his work — because his coach forced him to, saying that he was working too much and that he should rest — and what better way to spend a week off than going to a resort with his lovely partner.

you booked a room at this beautiful resort to spend time together and while booking, rin says that the room must have two beds. you’ve been dating for a couple of months now, but haven't slept on the same bed before. that’s because rin is still shy around you, even if he doesn't show it — his reactions are always obvious. and that he’s not really the physical touch guy.

when the two of you arrive at the scheduled date, the receptionist tells you that there was a mistake in their system and that your booked room was accidentally given to someone else. they also couldn't take the room back because the customer came in a day before you. you look at rin who looks absolutely pissed, his face didn't change much but his eyes express everything. before he speaks, you cut him off,

“i’ll handle this, rin.” you smiled, gently squeezing on his left arm, giving him assurance.

he scoffs, “hmph. fine.”

while rin stands on a side of the counter, slightly frowning, you converse with the receptionist, asking if there are any rooms available. yes, they respond. but there was one issue.

——————

“one bed. there’s only one bed.” rin glares at the perfectly prepared bed with swan towels. he looks so displeased that it actually shows on his whole face, and his cheeks have that slight tint of pink, you giggle at the sight.

“ha? what’s so funny?!” he looks at you, flustered and confused.

“you just look so cute when you’re flustered, rin.” you try to stifle your giggles.

while giggling, the vast sea caughts your eye. you daze at how beautiful it looks from your room floor, you’re so focused that you don’t notice your boyfriend admiring you with a soft smile planted on his face.

rin would’ve rushed to the receptionist to change the rooms if you didn't look so perfect right now.

——————

since the two of you got here early, you both decided to have some fun at the beach and explore the resort as well. you were glad thar there weren't many people that recognized rin, or maybe they just respected his private life, either way you were happy that your boyfriend finally got to relax after training for weeks.

once you get back to the hotel, the problem hits you right after entering the room. both of you had so much fun that you both forgot that you were going to share the bed tonight, and also for the whole week.

rin suggests that he should just sleep on the couch with you immediately decline. what kind of girlfriend are you if you let your professional athlete boyfriend sleep on a couch that he could barely even lay on down, right?

you suggest that you sleep on the floor which he also, immediately declines. you’re now out of options, so you just decide to sleep on the same bed.

rin laid down far from you that almost feel offended, his back is facing you too, he really doesn't want to sleep on the same bed huh.

you went to ask on how he’s doing so you flip him to his back side and to your surprise, he’s absolutely flushed, red as a tomato, he’s so flustered that it’s out of character.

you knew he was shy on sleeping on the same bed but wasn't this too much?! he’s so red that your afraid he might pass out so you calm him down by holding his hands, giving them a few tight squeezes.

you're both now facing each other, making little talks here and there, you can tell that he’s still tense so you keep holding his hands until you both doze off, succumbing to sleep.

——————

when you wake up next morning, you’re surprised to see that you’re laying on top of him, on his chest. his arms are holding you tight which you know you have zero chances of escaping, so you just admire your boyfriend instead. you always adore how peaceful rin looks compared to how he usually is, his body is warm and his arms are comforting to be in. this is the first time this has happened so you might as well savor it to your hearts’ content.

[motherlvr]

hi:D can you do miles!42 with a reader who doesn't really like getting told "watch who ur talking to" or smth bc most fics abt miles!42 is like that and nooo i won't ever let a man say that to me😭 and they like, know how to defend themself so they're pretty independent if thats alr ofc!

ngl i loved writing this, tysm for the req!

wc: 2.1k

pairing: E-42 Miles Morales x Strong, Independent! f! reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, kind of rivalry tbh, cursing, Miles is mean in this one, but gets character development, reader knows how to fight, baddie ong, reader doesn't take miles' bs

------------

"You gotta be shitting me." Mumbling under your breath, your eye involuntarily twitched. You glared at Miles like it was his fault for putting you in this situation.

Your glare was reciprocated as he said, "I ain't happy about it either, princesa." You hated when he called you that. It rolled off his tongue with such distaste. "Yeah? Glad we got that in common then." You snipped, irritated.

Miles Gonzalo Morales was a dick. To put it kindly.

He was a stuck-up, close-minded dick. It's like his sole purpose in life was to irk you. The two of you have never been on good terms. He tested your patience every waking moment.

But unfortunately for both of you, your Spanish teacher paired you up as partners for a major project. It would count for a good portion of your grade, so not doing it wasn't an option for you. You had less than two weeks to finish the project, and you weren't going to waste it.

You'd much prefer to do the project alone. One thing you've learned is: if you want something done correctly, do it yourself. And to never put it solely in the hands of a man. But the project was a requirement for the class, so you had no place to argue about it.

Thankfully, today was just a planning day. So it wouldn't be as painful, you hoped.

You showed him a plan you had thought about within only a few minutes and asked, "Thoughts?" He took a short glance at it and told you, "That's trash." A vein almost popped out of your head. You snapped, "You got any better ideas then?"

"Yea, anythin' other than that." He told you mindlessly. You had half a mind to make his braided head become real familiar with the cold surface of his desk. Around ten minutes later, he had finally come up with something. It wasn't that great, but at least he was semi-cooperative. You took one look at his plan and decided to turn the tables on him. You said, "You couldn't have come up with anything better? Shit's worse than my idea."

You could see him grip his pencil just a bit tighter, no doubt irritated by now. "Nah, watch your mouth." He told you, and you were unsure of how serious he was being. "Watch my mouth? You needa watch how when you turn around, one of your precious braids will be gone." You said as you made a snipping motion with your fingers. He protectively grabbed onto his braids, "Yo chill, ma."

As Spanish class progressed, everything only went downhill from there. He always seemed to hate every idea you had or had something to say. He groaned, "Woman, I swear. Your ideas are shit." Your former hopes of a peaceful partnership were long gone.

His choice of words alone irked you as you replied, "See, that's what you're not gonna call me. And if we're gonna be partners, you need to act decent for once. Get it together, Morales." You set clear boundaries as you pointed a finger at him. Surprisingly, he obliged. He looked like he made a revelation as he shook his head. "Nah, you right. That was outta line." The moment was oddly tranquil until he opened his mouth again. "I meant: I swear, your ideas are fucking terrible."

From that point further, the hopes of having a normal, mature, conversation were fleeting. The majority of the class was spent bickering rather than working on the task at hand.

You were one of the very few people that tested him. You gave him a challenge, while most people wouldn't utter a single complaint.

Eventually, at the end of the class, the two of you finally landed on an idea to carry out. A true miracle.

The next week in Spanish class passed and the days were cutting it closer and closer to the deadline. But there was still much work to be done. So, begrudgingly, you both had to work on it out of school. After Spanish, you were packing up your things when you asked him, "My place or yours?" His response was immediate. "My place. I'll give you my address. Come over after school, 'ight?" He said, writing down his address and handing it to you.

You accepted it and said, "Alright. Are your parents good with me coming over?" You questioned if he even had the decency to check first. Although you couldn't stand him most of the time, you didn't want to intrude on his family. He shrugged it off, "Yeah my ma's good with it. Already told her."

He wasn't about to tell you that his mother demanded the project was done at his house so she could keep a keen eye on the both of you.

You were dreading the final bell of the day. Spending more time than legally required with Miles wasn't your ideal image of fun. As the school day ended, you walked over to Miles' house.

Knocking on the door, it was soon opened by no one other than Miles' mother. She was expecting you, as a smile adorned her face. You greeted her, "¡Hola, Señora Morales! Gracias por invitarme a tu casa." (Hi, Mrs. Morales! Thank you for inviting me to your house.)

She widened her eyes at you, "¡Claro! ¿Cómo estás?" (of course, how are you?) She asked you with a sweet smile. You replied and reciprocated a smile, "Bien, ¿usted?" (good, you?) To which she responded, "Muy bien, gracias." (very good, thank you) As you put down your things, you noticed Miles was standing only a few feet away. His mother pulled Miles to the side and whispered, "She speaks Spanish, I like her." Not wanting to give away that she was a loud whisperer, you concealed a small laugh. It's a wonder how Miles turned out like that. His mother's wonderful. You knew she raised him better.

After his mother was done speaking to him, Miles led you to his room. His mother called out, "¡Deja la puerta abierta!" (leave the door open!) "Si, mami." He said back in an unusually nice tone.

You previously believed Miles Morales was a universal dick. But you soon realized you were somewhat wrong. He was a dick. To everyone except his mother, it seemed.

As you both settled down to start working on the project, you grinned at him like you had just found out a Federal-level secret. "You're such a momma's boy." You said.

His head whipped to you like you knew something you shouldn't. "No one would believe you." He said. You teased, "Oh, everyone would. Trust."

This was the most civil conversation the both of you have ever held within your whole history of knowing Miles. The afternoon was sprinkled with light-hearted jokes here and there, and it wasn't as painful as you initially believed. Needless to say, being forcibly confined in a space with Miles went much smoother than you could've ever anticipated. The project was progressing for once. And so was your relationship with Miles.

A few days later, you were in a better mood than regular. Within the past few days, Miles has been more tolerable. Maybe even likable. Apparently, you were in too good of a mood. You must've appeared too approachable today.

As you were walking in the hallways of school to your next class, a guy you didn't recognize slung an arm around your shoulders and said, "Hey, what's good jit?" You immediately pushed his arm off. He reeked of an excessive usage of cologne. You winced at his stench. "Don't call me that." You assertively said. But he only took it as a challenge. He said with a wink, "You tryna play hard to get? Alright, I'll play along."

"I'm not 'playing hard to get'," You mocked with air quotations. Dumbing it down, you continued, "I don't want you." Could a girl make it any more obvious?

Your words went straight over his oversized head. He said with a disgusting smirk, "I can change your mind." Your face visibly grimaced at his desperate attempt, "Not even baby Jesus could change my mind."

He was starting to get agitated at this point, "Nah, why you trippin', girl?" he said. You immediately retorted, "Why can't you take a damn hint?"

"C'mon, I know you want me. Gimme a chance." He said. You were sick and tired of this interaction, so you just decided to walk away. Turning your back, you tried to escape this conversation. But he grabbed your hand to prevent you from leaving. "Aye, where you goin'?"

You tried to be patient. And where did patience get you? Nowhere. In your mind, this guy was way too testosterone-deficient to be talking tough to you. There was nothing worse than a teenage boy. More importantly, a boy that didn't know what 'no' means.

And in an instant, the sound of a slap resounded throughout the hallway.

He looked like he was about to start crying. Holding his cheek in pain, he sneered, "Fuck you, bitch. You ain't shit anyway. I ain't even want you." But as you tried to walk away once again, he placed a tight grip on your shoulder to prevent you from escaping.

Miles was skipping class and wandering in the hallways when he saw you. From your body language, he could tell you were uncomfortable. His eyes glanced toward the guy's grip on your shoulder, and Miles suddenly understood the situation. He could see where this was heading. Or at least, he believed he did. Miles was about to intervene when within the blink of an eye, you had flipped the guy on his back and onto the floor.

You told the boy on the floor, "Don't try that shit again. With me or any other woman, got it?" Groaning in agony, the guy whimpered in response, and you took it as a 'yes'.

The guy was no André the Giant, but it impressed the hell out of Miles nonetheless. Since when could you do that? He questioned himself. Miles had to prevent his jaw from dropping. He was suddenly glad he never pushed you that far. You walked away unbothered as if nothing had happened. He gained a newfound respect for you. But that would have to stay unspoken.

Once Spanish class rolled around, you realized it was the second to last day you had to finish the project, so you were working extra diligently in Spanish class. You told Miles, "Alright, I finished decorating it. What do you think?" showing him the project. Not that you cared what he thought, but it would make this whole process much easier if he wouldn't shit on your every move. You've had your daily dose of asshole for the day. Almost an overdose, really.

A few moments passed by where he stared at the project, and then back to you. Fully expecting Miles to be his usual asshole self, you said, "Spit it out. What is it?" You waved your hand in front of his face. He swatted your hand away and replied, "I ain't gonna hold you, it's a pretty solid project so far."

You raised a brow at him, and suspiciously asked, "Really?" This was the first time he didn't have any retort to say. "Yeah, I think you're great, ma." He said. You cheekily grinned at him as he tried to correct himself, "I meant, great at the project. Yeah. The project." He almost stumbled on his words. He never did that. He was always collected. What was up with him? It was definitely a sudden change, but you weren't complaining.

There was only a small portion of the project left to do by the end of the class, so Miles suggested finishing it at his house.

This time after school, the both of you walked together to his house. As you worked on the project in his room, you noticed he wasn't getting much done. It seemed like he was in his head, whatever goes on in there. As you glanced up, he locked eyes with you. You hadn't a clue what he was thinking.

You originally would've preferred to do the project yourself, but if you had to have a partner, you believed the work should be divided equally. You weren't going to carry the whole project on your back.

"Why're you slacking, Miles? Our time is limited, y'know." "Ion know. Mind's elsewhere." He shrugged. It was subtle, but you noticed his glance travel to your lips. You grinned and took the opportunity to tease, "What, you want a kiss or somethin'?" You said it mainly as a joke. Sure, maybe you liked the way he gave you a challenge everyday. You wouldn't blatantly admit it, but it was refreshing to be with someone that actually cared about their work. But much to your surprise, he ran his hand over the back of his braids and said. "Shi, maybe it would motivate me. You feel me?"

Not expecting him to agree, you said, "I mean, alright. If you get off your ass, maybe I'll give you one." You tried to say as casually as you could. But you couldn't deny the fact that you were growing fond of him. You were internally conflicted as you wanted to hate him, but couldn't. In reality, it was far from hate.

Miles couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment his detest for you faded away and was replaced with something different. An emotion he rarely felt. Seeing you singlehandedly take on a guy was only fueling it for him. He quickly started working harder on his part. You mentally praised yourself. After a few silent moments, he spoke up, "Yo, I'm basically finished."

He was bullshitting, and you knew it. As you looked at his part of the project, he still had a good chunk to finish. But you caved and moved closer to him. Holding a hand to his face, you peppered a light kiss to the corner of his mouth, just barely avoiding his mouth.

As usual, he had something to say, "Don't play, mami." He resisted the urge to press his lips to yours until they were numb. You simply smiled at him and replied, "Yeah? Keep workin' and you'll earn a real one."

Immediately, Miles got right back to working on his part of the project without another complaint. You've never seen him work so studiously.

Pleased to say, with your motivation, Miles was more productive that day than all the other days combined.

------------

taglist! please lmk if u want to be added 🫶

@l5byrinth @iamspooderman

[sushirrrry]

fiabesco a harry styles x reader one-shot 2.2k words cw: so much fluff

“No, that's not– give it to me.”

Harry’s hands reached for the small device in your hand before you could speak another word. You huffed out a sigh of annoyance before you crossed your arms over your chest.

Harry looks at the phone and then back to the kettle, a few times to make sure that he's right, but you know that you are right.

“That's the right color, I promise.” Your words feel like they mean nothing as the two of you stand in front of the small display. You aren't even sure he's heard you.

It had been like this all day; you were both tired, drained from the house moving process. It was easier to shop online, you had told him. But Harry’s idea was to get you both out of the house, to give you a break from the four walls that you had moved into and been staring at for what felt like days.

That was proving difficult, as the photos and the real-life images were not matching up to either of your standards.

“This is not the same color as online,” Harry scoffed as he turned the kettle around in his hands. “This is like, a dark grey,” He holds the phone, then picks up the kettle. “This is chrome.”

You rolled your eyes, but Harry took notice before he put his hands on his hips and shook his head. The sleeves of his long-sleeved grey shirt were pushed up now; the clothes you both wore must have been filthy as you had been moving in the early hours of the day. The Italian heat was no joke, your frizzy hair and pink cheeks would speak on that.

You could tell that you were getting frustrated at one another. In all honesty, you knew that Harry wanted everything to be perfect and it was a bit frustrating to know that the item in the store wasn't what you both had wanted.

But you look at it with another eye, and note that it could work. “Let's just get it.” You say to him, shrugging. “If we don't like it in the kitchen, we can bring it back. It's not a huge deal.”

Harry’s the one to roll his eyes this time, “Aren't we here to buy this so we could have tea this evening? Isn't that why we're here and not showering?”

It was true– you had both come to the conclusion that the kettle was an important part of the first night ritual. It had dawned on you then that you couldn't really use the item and then bring it back.

“Well, let's buy this one– we can go to another store—” You were cut off by his grumbled words.

“Whatever– do whatever you want.” His visible frustration was pressing you as you bit on your lip. You thought about the photo he had shown you from the website and you really believed that you were looking at the same one.

A lot of the times, the photos were different than real life, and you think the shine may not have been as present in the photo. But you weren't sure.

As you bit your lip, you breathed outward as you spun the small kettle around in your hands.

“Do you really think—"

“I said do whatever you want! Get the fucking chrome then!” His voice was raised then; visible anger crossing his eyes as they knit together, and his hands stayed in his hips. It was a raised voice at me, and I could tell that we had both pushed each other to the brink.

Harry never got frustrated at you; he never yelled or raised his voice, he never looked angry. There weren't any frown lines crossing along his cheeks and forehead because Harry was hardly ever upset or mad at anything.

But you were pushed to your emotional breaking point as you set the kettle down on the shelf a bit too hard, making the metal shelf rattle as you did so. The tightness of your jaw only exceeded your need to cry as you pushed back the tears in your eyes.

You grabbed ahold of the bag that you held on to your shoulder as you started to walk towards the exit of the small kitchen store, nestled in the small nook of the Roman street.

Getting your dream home with the love of your life should have been a happy thing; it should have been a moment where the two of you relished in the sun and drank freshly made orange juice in the early summer mornings to beat the heat of the sun.

Instead, you were fighting back angry tears and walking away without another word because you didn't want to cry in the store. You pushed through the door, onto the street and didn't care if Harry was following you.

But he had been, he was right on your heel because that was the kind of person he was. Harry was kind; he never meant to hurt your feelings or make you frustrated. As soon as he raised his voice, his regret only further mad his anger grow– at himself this time, not the situation.

It was just that he had wanted the evening with you to be perfect. Everything had fallen into place so right. You had loved all of the furniture to the respective rooms, you set the TV up to be able to watch a film at the end of the night. After you had both showered, made love on the empty rug that blessed your living space floor, you would snuggle up on the sofa and watch one of your favorites— Notting Hill. A cup of tea in both of your hands as you allowed yourself the ideal summer night.

But instead, you two were frustrated and burnt out and in need of a meal and a shower, which felt more like it would lead to getting snuggled in bed and falling asleep on either sides.

You let a tear fall, but not anymore because now you could feel the exhaustion in your bones as you felt his presence on you now. You hear the scuffle of his trainers behind you as you lick on your lips and taste the saltiness of the tear that fell.

“C’mon, baby, I’m sorry.” You hear his voice, feeling the way that his hand grips at the back of your neck. It's in the comforting way that you like, as he guides you to turn and face him. Your head fits against his chest as you let it rest there for a moment; not caring about the way that you're sweating.

The hand on your neck moves into your hair as Harry keeps you there for a moment; letting his fingers glide into it, just below the placement of the clip holding your hair back.

“I didn't mean to snap at you,” He tells you, his lips placing on the top of your head as you stand against the wall of the store. The small nook feels private as you let out a huge sigh.

Harry laughs at that; his vibrato of a laugh is felt as you're against him, which makes you’re the edges of your lips move up in a soft smile.

“You're not mad at me, are you?” He asks, nudging an answer from you still.

This time, Harry nudges you away from him, but he places his fingers along your chin to raise you to look right into his eyes. It's a fluid movement, but you take in the way that his facial hair has grown out, the way that his skin has browned, and his eyes are light against it.

You purse your lips, swallowing as you shake your head with a discreetness that you're not even sure he could catch. But he must, because you see the way that the dimple pops along his cheek matter-of-factly.

“I think we're both stressed out,” He nods, “And we're both just a little on edge, hm?” Harry keeps pressing questions but your eyes stare at him for a moment before he presses on your chin again. His fingers feel strong as you hold your stare at him.

“I’m sorry,” You let out, wanting to keep yourself together, “I think we both just need to take a minute and get ourselves together. We were bound to lose ourselves at one point or another.”

The warm Italy breeze hits you and your shut your eyes for a moment as you feel the way that it trapezes across your skin.

“Hm,” Harry tuts, “I think I know a fix for this.”

His hand drops from your chin, grabbing ahold of your hand as you move through the small streets. They're cobblestoned and hold the footsteps of so many others before you— through love, breakup, first kisses, and first glances.

You don't know where he's leading you, but it's fine at the moment because you feel a burst of nostalgia and an outpouring of gratitude that you may have taken for granted before.

Who cared about the color of the kettle when the skies were the fiercest shade of cerulean and the sun hung in its highest peak? Who cared about any of that when the man of your dreams hung tightly onto your hand as he whisked you away and into the streets that would hold all of your memories from now on— bits of happiness here and there were awaiting you?

Harry pulled you along the streets, guiding you and marking small memories here and there as he would turn to ensure you were still with him. Even with the grasp his hand had in you, it felt important for him to know the smile and eagerness was still on your face.

As you arrived by the small socks that held rocky beaches and tented umbrellas, your eyes glided over the small gelato stand that had become accustomed to your routines since visiting Italy to begin with. But now your adventures together here had made this more of an availability than ever before.

Your heart stung at the pricelessness of the moment as you approached the stand with Harry on your hand.

“Bit of a treat to reward ourselves, hm?” He asked you, and your bit your lip as you tried to figure out what flavor you would get.

“Think I’m going to get pistachio,” You tell him, your heart settled on it.

Harrys hums for a moment before he tilts his head and purses his own lips. “Would it be boring for me to just saw custard?”

You laugh a little, nodding, “Yes, no custard. You have to do the lemon.”

You convince him; he orders the pistachio for you, and the lemon for himself— even if it was just so you could have both for yourself, taking bites of his when you could a chance.“Un pistacchio e un limone, per favore.” Your heart clenches at the words he speaks, the language flying off of his tongue as he does so with ease. You long await getaways together had turned into where you had felt your deepest love affairs. 

He hands you yours, and the spoonful is glorious. It melts in your mouth as you both stand off to the side now, the sound of the river behind you as you let your eyes meet his again. You watch the kink of his smile as he hears the pleasure take over you.

“Good, then?” He asks as he takes his own bite. His lips drift over his lips as he nods to confirm it himself, humming in satisfaction.

“This was the perfect idea.” You tell him, taking another bite.

You both head over to a bench by the water, taking in the sites of the tourists and the loved one who have made their trek around the city. So much love and admiration as you sit in a bit of silence.

“What are you most excited for?” Harry asks you, breaking the quiet. You ponder the question for a moment before turning to face him a bit more.

“I think I’m just excited to build a home,” You say, watching as his eyes crinkle by the sides. It's subtle, but you notice with such ease that happiness looks marvelous on him. “Build a family.”

Harry looks at his treat before lifting his eyes to you. “So many,” He mumbles, “So, so many of our little babies.”

You hum before using your thumb to brush over his cheek; your chin leans in to give him the softest, most chaste kiss before pulling back and giving his eyes an easy glance.

“Sono così grato per questa vita.”

Harry leans in to kiss you, your hands wrapping into his hair as you accept it with ease.

“Un fiabesco.” He says against your lips, his eyes taking a glance into yours. It's the kind of dreaming that cannot be done unless you're asleep, certainly.

Your troubles all wash away as you melt away into the sun of the day, leaving bits of memories here and there along the streets of Rome, waiting for you to remember them later— smiling at the love and memories that had adorned them before you, and very much afterwards.

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ IF ONLY

synopsis: A moment of vulnerability, a confession left unanswered, and a heart quietly breaking— If only things had gone differently, but some stories take time to unfold.

warnings: cursing, crying, misunderstanding, drinking, angst, drunk confessions, rejection, sad!Luna, confused!Jeonghan, heartaches, talks about embracing the pain, unrequited love (?), a somewhat hopeful ending

surprise! my first ever one-shot in the Luna-verse, I really hope you guys like it! Also… I am so sorry for making this sad and angsty. A lot of you have been asking me about how Jeonghan rejected Luna ever since I posted the Group Ships… so here it is, but I promise it gets better from here. Luna and Jeonghan’s story is very very interesting so keep a lookout on that 🤍 (p.s. I made myself cry writing this.)

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

If only she wasn’t the way she was, that is what Luna thought growing up.

Luna had always found it difficult to make friends. From a young age, she was used to the way people looked at her— peers who seemed to keep their distance, children her age who were either too intimidated by her or too quick to judge. The few times she had tried to approach someone, their hesitation or outright dismissal had stung.

But with time, Luna learned to accept it. She carried herself with an air of quiet confidence, convincing herself that she didn’t need to fit in with the rest. Even as a child, she’d find comfort in the quiet, the solitude that followed her like a shadow.

That sense of isolation followed her into her teenage years, long after she had moved back to Korea to chase her dream of becoming an idol. At just fourteen, she had thrown herself into a world where competition was everything.

It was hard enough to adjust to the grueling training regimen, but there was something even more challenging— forming connections.

Surrounded by other trainees, Luna had hoped that maybe here, in the shared space of hard work and ambition, she would finally find people who understood her.

Instead, the distance only grew.

The girls she trained with didn’t just avoid her because of her looks. They avoided her because of her talent, her skill, and her determination.

Luna was better than them, and they knew it.

Every time she entered the practice room, Luna could feel the stares. Her sharp movements and flawless execution stood out, but not in the way she had hoped. It didn’t make people want to get closer to her. It made them wary as if they were afraid her presence alone was a threat.

Luna never intended to intimidate anyone; she simply wanted to do her best. But no matter how hard she worked, it seemed to push people further away.

Luna had taken it as a compliment as she got older. But back then, it was suffocating, watching the others group together while she was always left on the sidelines, untouchable, unapproachable.

If only she could have done something differently.

If only people could see beyond her cold exterior.

If only people weren't so quick to judge.

As she grew older, she tried to find some comfort in the idea that perhaps this distance was a compliment. If they were intimidated, it meant they saw her as someone to be taken seriously, someone skilled enough to be a rival. And rivals didn’t need to be friends, right?

But even as she told herself this, the isolation lingered. There were times when the silence became suffocating, and she wondered if anyone would ever approach her without that look in their eyes.

No one ever did.

Not until Jeonghan.

She remembered the first time they met vividly like it was etched into her mind.

It was her first day at PLEDIS after she had transferred from YG Entertainment. She had expected it to be just like the others— people watching her from a distance, maybe a polite nod or two but no real effort to get to know her.

But Jeonghan had been different from the start.

While the other trainees kept to their familiar circles, glancing at her curiously but saying nothing, Jeonghan had walked right up to her. His messy swept hair was already growing since then, and there was a smile on his face— easy and warm as if they had known each other for years.

“Hi,” he had said, extending his hand to her. “I’m Jeonghan. What’s your name?” he’d said with a casual smile like it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth disarmed her and made her wonder why he didn’t hesitate like the others.

Luna had blinked, momentarily stunned by his straightforwardness. She had been so used to people shying away from her that for a second, she didn’t know how to respond.

“I... I’m Jiyeon,” she had managed to say, her voice uncharacteristically small. “Or Luna… you can also call me Luna.”

“Jiyeon or Luna,” Jeonghan repeated, his smile widening. “Welcome. If you need anything, just let me know.”

That was it. No fanfare, no awkward small talk— just a simple greeting, but it had meant the world to her.

It still does.

Jeonghan was the first person to make her feel like she wasn’t an outsider in the cutthroat world of trainee life. From that moment on, he became a constant presence in her life.

He became her first friend within the company and her first proper friend ever. The one who cheered her on during monthly evaluations when no one else would.

His voice would always rise above the whispers of competition, “You’ve got this, Nana-ya!” he’d say, his voice full of encouragement.

And when she did well— when she ranked first during one of the most intense evaluations— it was Jeonghan who was the first to congratulate her, beaming with pride as if her success was his own.

If only she had realized back then just how important he’d become to her.

Jeonghan became her anchor, the one person she could count on when the loneliness threatened to overwhelm her. He was the first one to truly see her—not just as another trainee, but as someone worth knowing.

Jeonghan was her first friend, her first best friend, but he was also the first guy she ever liked.

As time passed, it became clearer. Jeonghan wasn’t just a friend to her. Luna didn’t know when it had happened exactly, but one day, she realized that her feelings for Jeonghan had shifted.

It wasn’t a loud, thunderous realization. It crept in like a slow sunrise, soft and warm.

His easy smiles, the way his hair would fall into his eyes, the effortless kindness he showed not only her but everyone around him. It was the way her heart would flutter when he smiled at her, the way she would find herself glancing at him in the practice room, admiring his soft features, the way he moved with effortless grace… it all felt different.

It made her heart ache, a tender pull that grew with every interaction.

Jeonghan wasn’t just her best friend— he was someone she cared about, someone who had become more important to her than she had ever anticipated.

It started innocently enough, a soft crush that lingered in the back of her mind, growing stronger with every passing day.

Back then, Luna had convinced herself it was just admiration. After all, Jeonghan was everything she wasn’t— outgoing, charming, and effortlessly kind. He had a way of making everyone feel comfortable, and for someone like Luna, who had always been hard to approach, that was something she admired.

But it wasn’t just admiration. She knew that deep down.

If only she could stop herself from liking her best friend.

It terrified her.

Cause just like every first crush, it came with fear.

Fear that he wouldn’t see her the same way.

Fear that their dynamic would change, and the closeness she cherished would slip away.

As a trainee, Luna had done her best to suppress those feelings. She’d bury herself in practice, pushing herself harder and harder, hoping the exhaustion would numb whatever emotions were swirling inside her.

But Jeonghan always seemed to break through that wall. He was the one who encouraged her when she doubted herself, the one who praised her when she felt like she wasn’t good enough, and the one who always made sure she never felt alone.

He had this way of showing up exactly when she needed someone, even when she hadn’t realized she needed anyone at all.

If only it were simple.

If only her heart didn’t race every time he smiled at her during practice, or when he pulled her aside after evaluations just to tell her how well she’d done.

If only she could keep it all together like she wanted to. But every time they stood next to each other on stage, every time they shared a laugh behind the scenes, every time he gave her that gentle, knowing look that only he could, her feelings for him grew stronger, despite how desperately she tried to push them away.

And yet, she knew she couldn’t say anything.

From their trainee days to their debut, Luna kept those feelings locked inside. She’d convinced herself it was better that way. After all, they were in the same group now. They were members of SEVENTEEN, a team. If anything were to happen, if her feelings were ever discovered, it could ruin everything they had worked so hard for.

The thought of jeopardizing that terrified her. That is the last thing she wanted was to complicate things—for herself, for Jeonghan, or the group.

So, for years, Luna held back.

She smiled when Jeonghan smiled at her, laughed when he teased her during practice and pretended it didn’t hurt when he leaned a little too close to one of their other members, playfully tugging on their sleeves the same way he did with her.

Luna tried to delude herself into thinking that her feelings would fade sooner or later.

If only it did.

The feelings persisted, gnawing at her every time they shared a moment. And as much as she tried to hide it, there was no denying the truth: she had hard fallen for him.

Soon, she had become a master of hiding her emotions, of keeping her heart carefully tucked away.

By 2017, she had gotten so good at it that even she almost believed she didn’t care anymore.

Almost.

But it all came crashing down one late night in June, in the quiet of their shared dorm floor. The group had just come home from a long day, having performed at ‘Music Bank’, and the exhaustion clung to them like a heavy fog.

But for Luna and Jeonghan, the night was far from over. It had become their little routine— after a long day, after all the noise and chaos of performing and smiling for the cameras, they would retreat to either Jeonghan or Luna's place, pour a few drinks, and talk.

Tonight was no different.

The apartment was dimly lit, casting a soft glow around the living room where they sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, with half-empty glasses between them. The curtains were drawn shut, blocking out the city lights, and the only sound was the low hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of their glasses as they took small sips.

The rest of the members were asleep or off doing their own thing, leaving Luna and Jeonghan in their own little bubble, just as they always had been.

Jeonghan had been talking about something— Luna wasn’t sure what exactly, her mind was too clouded with the effects of the alcohol and the way he was looking at her, that soft, knowing gaze he always gave her when he thought she was overdoing it. His now blonde hair, now tousled from the day, framed his face as he watched her with that same concerned look he always gave her whenever they drank together.

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow, you know,” Jeonghan said, his voice soft but amused. He leaned forward, reaching for her glass as if to take it from her, but Luna pulled it back with a childish pout, cradling it against her chest.

“I’m fine,” she whined, her words slightly slurred, but playful. She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes for a moment before glancing at him with a half-smile. “We are so busy nowadays that we never get to just… talk anymore. I miss this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

Luna nodded, her gaze drifting to the ceiling. The room felt heavy with unsaid words, with all the things she’d been holding back for years. And yet, there he was, sitting across from her, calm, composed, completely unaware of the storm raging inside her.

He was so infuriatingly perfect— always knowing what to say, how to make her feel safe, how to make her laugh, how to keep her at a distance just enough that she could never cross that line.

Jeonghan shifted beside her, his arm brushing against hers as he reached for her glass again, gently prying it from her hands this time.

“Nana-ya, you’ll get hungover if you keep this up,” he said, his tone more serious now. His fingers brushed hers as he took the glass, setting it aside, and she hated how even that small touch made her heart race.

If only if her heart stopped doing that.

“I don’t care,” Luna murmured, the alcohol loosening her tongue more than she realized. She slumped further into the couch, her legs stretching out in front of her, her head turning to rest on the cushion behind her.

She watched as Jeonghan stood up, stretching his arms over his head before leaning down to gently take her hand, pulling her up with him.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing as he gently tugged her toward her bedroom.

“I’m not tired,” Luna whined again, stumbling slightly as she followed him, her body swaying from the alcohol.

She felt warm all over, not just from the drinks, but from the way Jeonghan was guiding her with such care, as if she were fragile, something to be protected. His hand was steady, firm but gentle as it held hers, and Luna found herself hating it. Hating how easy it was for him to be like this. How perfect he was.

“We can talk more in the morning. You need to rest.” Jeonghan said, his voice soft but insistent. He led her into her bedroom, helping her sit down on the edge of the bed.

Luna shook her head, her vision blurring slightly as she stared up at him. “You’re too good to me, Hannie,” she mumbled, her words tumbling out without her even realizing it. “You’re… too perfect, it’s annoying.”

Jeonghan paused, crouching down in front of her, his hands resting lightly on her knees as he looked up at her with that same gentle smile. “What are you talking about?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face

Luna's heart clenched. She hated it. Hated how effortlessly he could make her feel like this.

“You make me feel things,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “And I hate it.”

Jeonghan blinked, his smile faltering slightly, but before he could say anything, Luna let out a frustrated sigh, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder. He stayed quiet, his hands gently resting on her back, his touch light, almost hesitant. He didn’t say anything, didn’t push her away, didn’t ask her to explain. He just stayed there, holding her, letting her lean on him as the weight of her words hung in the air between them.

“You’re too perfect,” she repeated, her voice muffled against his shirt. “And I hate it. I hate that you make me feel this way.”

Jeonghan's brows furrowed as he heard her words, the frustration lacing her voice, and something in his chest tightened.

He had a feeling he understood what she meant— he wasn’t oblivious, after all. He’d seen the little signs, the lingering glances, the way her gaze softened whenever he was near. But even with that knowledge, there was a part of him that needed to hear her say it outright. To confirm what he had long suspected but never dared to address.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly, his voice gentle but probing, hoping she would clarify even though he already had an inkling.

Jeonghan’s heart beat a little faster, anxiety swirling in his chest. He didn’t move, his hands still resting lightly on her back, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her shirt. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, the weight of her leaning against him.

Luna pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, her expression a mix of frustration and something else— something raw, something vulnerable.

“I hate you,” she muttered, her words slurred but filled with emotion. “I hate that you make me feel like this.”

Jeonghan blinked, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of her statement. “What do you mean ‘feel like this’?” he asked again, his voice quieter now, a little more uncertain.

Jeonghan knew, of course, he knew, but hearing her say it— he needed that.

Luna huffed, her frustration growing as she ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands as if trying to pull herself together.

“Since we were trainees, Yoon Jeonghan,” she said, her voice rising just slightly, her words tumbling out faster now as if she couldn’t stop them. “You were always so... nice to me. Too nice. And you were always there, cheering me on, helping me, making me feel like I wasn’t alone. You made me feel so pretty… so loved… so feel special.”

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He listened, his heart pounding in his chest as she continued.

“And I hated it. I hated how much I needed that. I hated that every time you smiled at me, I felt something. Something I wasn’t supposed to feel.” Luna’s voice cracked, her frustration turning into something more fragile, more pained. “It’s been the same since we were trainees. And even now... even now, you’re still making me feel this way. And I don’t know what to do with it anymore.”

Jeonghan stayed silent, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of her words sinking in, each one hitting him like a stone, and yet... it wasn’t surprising. Not really.

Jeonghan was good at reading people, he had always sensed it— this undercurrent between them, something deeper than friendship, something unspoken that lingered in the spaces between their interactions. But hearing her admit it, hearing the depth of her frustration, her hurt... it made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“Jiyeon-ah...” he started, his voice soft, but before he could say anything more, Luna slumped forward, her body going limp as the alcohol finally took over. She had passed out, her breathing evening out as she leaned against his chest.

Jeonghan froze for a moment, blinking down at her in surprise. His heart was still racing, his mind spinning with everything she had just said, but as he looked at her now, so peaceful in her sleep, all that frustration and pain gone from her face, he felt a wave of tenderness wash over him.

She looked so fragile in that moment, so vulnerable, and it made something deep inside him stir. He didn’t move right away. Instead, he sat there for a few minutes, watching her, his hand lightly brushing the hair away from her face as she slept. His heart ached for her, for the weight she had been carrying for so long, for the feelings she had kept hidden all these years.

If only things had been different.

If only he had realized sooner.

Jeonghan let out a soft sigh, his fingers trailing through her hair one last time before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It was light, barely there, but it was all he could offer at that moment.

“Goodnight, pretty angel,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he slowly pulled away.

He stood up, carefully laying her down on the bed and pulling the covers over her, making sure she was comfortable before stepping back. He glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the mess they had left behind in the living room— the half-empty glasses, the bottle of soju, the scattered snacks. With one last look at Luna, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Jeonghan made his way back to the living room, his mind still spinning from everything that had happened. He cleaned up in silence, his movements slow and methodical as he cleared the table, washed the glasses, and wiped down the counter. His thoughts kept drifting back to her words, the way she had looked at him, the raw emotion in her voice.

By the time he finished cleaning, the apartment was quiet again, the night settling in around him. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, his hands resting on the back of the couch as he stared at the empty space where Luna had been sitting earlier.

If only he had known earlier.

If only things were simpler.

The next morning, Luna woke up with a pounding headache and three immediate regrets.

If only she didn’t remember what she said to Jeonghan last night.

If only she hadn’t drank so much.

If only she drank more— enough to forget.

But she remembered everything. Every. Single. Thing. And she knew, with a sickening certainty, that Jeonghan did too.

Luna stayed in bed longer than she should’ve, staring up at the ceiling as her mind replayed the previous night’s events on an unrelenting loop. The hazy confession, the way her voice had trembled when she told him she hated how he made her feel—her heart sank deeper with each flash of memory.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to forget, but it was useless. The image of Jeonghan’s face, so soft and caring as she spilled her heart, refused to leave her mind.

Her schedule wouldn’t let her wallow in bed, though. Today was packed with activities: music shows, interviews, rehearsals, variety show tapings, and a radio appearance in the evening.

All of them required her to see Jeonghan.

Dragging herself out of bed, Luna’s stomach twisted at the thought of facing him. How was she supposed to look him in the eye after what she said?

She could still feel the weight of his gaze from the night before, the warmth of his hands guiding her to bed, the way his lips had brushed her forehead so tenderly. Her heart beat faster just thinking about it, but now all she felt was dread.

She couldn’t avoid him. Not when their schedules were so packed together. And yet… If only she could. She pulled on her clothes, barely paying attention to what she was wearing, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts of how to survive the day without falling apart in front of him.

The day started with a soundcheck at a music show. Luna moved through the motions, greeting staff, warming up her voice, and running through their choreography.

All while keeping one eye on Jeonghan.

She didn’t have to look to know he was watching her. She could feel it— the way his gaze followed her across the room. It wasn’t unusual for him to look out for her, but today it was different. His eyes lingered too long, his expressions too soft, too thoughtful.

And yet, she refused to meet his gaze. Whenever he moved towards her, she skillfully maneuvered herself away, pretending to be busy talking to another member or reviewing notes with their staff. When he tried to catch her between breaks, she’d feign exhaustion, lying down in the waiting room, headphones in, eyes closed, hoping he wouldn’t disturb her.

He didn’t. But he watched.

During the interview portion of their music show appearance, she stood sandwiched between Mingyu and Wonwoo, grateful for the buffer zone. Jeonghan was on the other side of the group, but still, she felt his eyes on her. Every time the camera wasn’t focused on them, he’d glance her way, and she’d pretend not to notice.

The weight of it was suffocating, but she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge it. Not yet.

The rest of the day unfolded in a blur of performances and obligations. She danced, smiled for the cameras, and laughed when appropriate, all while dodging Jeonghan’s attempts to talk to her. When they left the studio for rehearsals, she managed to stick close to the other members, always positioning herself away from Jeonghan without making it too obvious.

But he was relentless. Subtle, but relentless.

For two days, she avoided him with increasing skill. If he took a step toward her, she’d suddenly have a question for staff or be deep in conversation with another member. If he tried to speak to her during breaks, she’d claim she was too tired or needed to use the restroom.

Thankfully, their schedules were so packed that it was easy to stay busy. The exhaustion from back-to-back schedules worked to her advantage— no one questioned why she was too tired to chat during their downtime.

No one, except for Jeonghan.

He never pressed her. Never forced her into a conversation. But Luna knew. She could see it in the way his eyes would flicker with something unreadable when she ducked out of his reach, the way his expression softened whenever she pretended to be preoccupied.

Jeonghan wasn’t fooled. He knew exactly what she was doing.

And he let her.

But there was no escaping the fact that the more she avoided him, the more she felt the tension building between them. It was like a taut string, pulling tighter with each passing day, each fleeting glance, each unspoken word.

And the worst part? She knew it couldn’t last. Eventually, she’d have to face him.

There was only so much running she could do before everything came crashing down again.

And it did.

Three days after her drunken confession, Luna found herself in the worst possible scenario— alone with Jeonghan.

It had been a long day of grueling practice, the kind that left everyone too exhausted to talk, but not too exhausted to finally notice the tension between the two of them.

Luna was desperate to get to her room, hoping to avoid another awkward interaction. She quickened her pace as soon as they entered the dorm, hoping to reach the elevator before anyone could catch up to her— before he could catch up to her.

One thing about Luna is that she hates elevators— she got stuck alone once when she was a child. From then on she never took it alone… till now, that’s how desperate she was.

She must have jinxed it.

As the elevator doors slid open, she stepped in quickly, but a second later, Jeonghan slipped in behind her. The doors closed, trapping her in the small, suffocating space with the one person she had been desperately trying to avoid.

“Fuck my life,” She cursed under her breath.

Where were the other members? Normally, someone would’ve joined them, but tonight, it was just the two of them. Jeonghan must’ve said something to the others, some quiet, strategic whisper to give them privacy.

Luna sighed audibly, her shoulders tensing as she avoided looking in his direction.

The silence in the elevator was unbearable. She could feel Jeonghan’s presence beside her, calm and unhurried.

She hated how composed he always was— how nothing seemed to faze him. Luna, on the other hand, felt like she was barely holding herself together, her heart pounding in her chest, her palms sweaty as she stared straight ahead, willing the elevator to reach her floor as quickly as possible.

But Jeonghan didn’t speak. He didn’t push, didn’t prod. He simply waited, giving her space, like he always did.

If only he wasn’t so perfect.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Luna broke the silence. "Just spit it out already," she muttered, still refusing to meet his eyes.

She knew he had something to say, something he’d been holding back for the past three days. It was the thing she had been dreading ever since she confessed her feelings to him— the thing she had been running from since their trainee days.

Jeonghan’s voice was soft, almost tender when he finally spoke. "You’ve been ignoring me."

He didn’t sound angry or hurt, just… understanding.

And Luna hated it. He was too perfect, too kind, too gentle for her own good. How could she not fall for someone like him? How could she not hate him for making it so easy?

A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

Luna could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but she kept her eyes on the elevator doors, counting the seconds in her head, hoping this would all be over soon. But the words were clawing their way out of her, demanding to be spoken.

"What do you want me to say, Han?" Her voice was sharp, and defensive, as if she could protect herself with her words. "That I lied? ‘Cause I didn’t."

She finally turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his for the first time in three days. The impact of it hit her like a wave— his warm, concerned gaze, the softness in his expression, the way he looked at her like he saw straight through her defenses.

"If only it was," she added quietly, her voice breaking just a little at the end.

Jeonghan stepped forward slowly, his movements careful and deliberate, like he was approaching a wounded animal. His hands found her arms, his touch light, barely there, as if he was afraid to hurt her. He gently caressed her skin, his thumb tracing small circles against her sleeve, soothing in a way that only made everything worse.

"Jiyeon-ah..." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if saying her name out loud might shatter the fragile moment between them.

He didn’t need to say anything else.

Luna knew him all too well.

She knew him inside and out— knew that the look in his eyes wasn’t just concern. There was something else there, something that made her stomach twist painfully.

A twinge of regret. Sadness.

She already knew what he was going to say.

And she dreaded it.

"I…" Jeonghan hesitated, his grip tightening slightly as he prepared to speak, his gaze never leaving hers. "I care about you so much, you know that, right?"

Luna nodded in defeat, biting down on her lip to keep the flood of emotions at bay. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

"But… we can’t do this." His voice was soft, so gentle as if he was trying to let her down easy. "It wouldn’t be professional. And it wouldn’t be fair to the others, to the team. We’ve worked so hard to get here, and… we can’t risk that."

There it was.

The polite rejection.

The one she’d expected but had hoped would never come. The words hit her like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from her lungs. She went numb, her mind buzzing with a kind of dull, painful shock.

She had prepared herself for this. She knew it was coming. But still, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her.

She couldn’t hear anything else.

The world around her became a blur, Jeonghan’s words fading into the background as her mind shut down, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. Her chest felt tight, her throat constricting as she struggled to keep herself composed.

If only she could forget this moment… this feeling.

At that very moment, something in Luna’s brain snapped— a survival instinct, a deep-seated need to protect herself from the pain that had just hollowed her out.

A switch flipped, and determination settled over her like a mask. She forced a giggle, light and airy as if nothing had happened. As if her heart wasn’t hanging in tatters inside her chest.

She could see Jeonghan’s face soften, but not in relief. No, his eyes were filled with something else—pain. He knew her all too well. Knew this was her defense mechanism. Her way of pretending everything was fine.

Jeonghan opened his mouth to say something, maybe to stop her from pretending and shutting him out but Luna was faster.

"It’s fine," she said, her voice calm, steady. Her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I was drunk and being stupid."

There it was.

The first lie.

And then, with a forced chuckle, she gave him the second, her all-time favorite lie, one she had practiced in front of a mirror countless times just in case this moment ever came.

"It’s a little crush. It’ll go away soon."

Luna had become so good at pretending, at brushing off her own heartbreak as if it were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

She waved her hand dismissively as if her heart hadn’t just been ripped to shreds and thrown at her feet. As if she wasn’t praying for the earth to open up and swallow her whole so she could disappear from the sheer embarrassment of being rejected.

"I’m sorry for worrying you," she said, her voice light, too casual. "You know me. I didn’t want to come off as weird and I’ve been missing my parents lately… Plus, with our schedule being so crazy, I’ve just been all over the place."

She was explaining herself, making excuses for her vulnerability, for the way her feelings had slipped through the cracks in her armor.

It was easier to blame it on something else— on homesickness, on stress— than to admit what was really happening inside her heart.

She saw Jeonghan frown, saw the worry deepening in his eyes as he tried to get a word in, but she was already moving, already pivoting away from the conversation.

"We’re okay." She cut him off, a little too cheerful. Her firm voice cutting through as if to reassure Jeonghan or more so to reassure herself. She stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, something she’d done a hundred times before but this time it felt like a goodbye. "Don’t worry about it."

As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open, and without waiting for a response, Luna slipped out, leaving Jeonghan standing there, stunned and silent.

The moment the door to her apartment clicked shut behind her, the facade crumbled.

Luna’s breath hitched, and she locked the door with trembling hands. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the floor, the weight of everything she had been holding back crashing down on her in one violent wave.

She pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the floor, squeezing her eyes shut as silent sobs wracked her body. The room was too quiet, the kind of quiet that only amplified the buzzing in her ears, the heavy thud of her heartbeat.

She had known it would hurt, but she hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

For years, she had kept her feelings carefully hidden, burying them deep inside her chest where no one could see, not even herself sometimes.

Luna had told herself it was better this way, safer. But now that it had all come out— now that she had laid herself bare only to be rejected— it felt like everything she had built around herself was crumbling.

All the walls she had put up, all the armor she had worn, were useless now.

If only she hadn’t said anything.

If only she had kept quiet like always.

If only she hadn’t let herself hope.

Luna was angry— at the universe, at herself because she couldn’t find herself to be angry at Jeonghan. It was not his fault after all. It’s not his fault he didn’t feel the same way, he didn’t do it on purpose. In the same way, she didn’t fall for him on purpose.

However, she was angry that she had been stupid enough to believe, even for a second, that he might feel the same way… even a little. Angry that she had let her guard down. Angry that no matter how hard she tried to let go, her heart had latched onto him with a vice grip that wouldn’t loosen.

Her thoughts spiraled, wild and desperate as tears streamed down her face. She had tried for so long to suppress her feelings, to push them down, to keep them from surfacing. But now, they were all spilling out, every fear, every insecurity, every moment of doubt.

Years, she thought, choking on the sobs. Years of holding this in, of pretending I was okay… all for what?

Luna had always known that liking Jeonghan would lead to this.

It had been inevitable, she supposed.

A quiet, creeping sense of dread that had lived in the back of her mind ever since they were trainees. She had always feared that this would be the outcome, that her feelings would only ever be one-sided, that the day she confessed, everything would fall apart.

But she had never expected it to hurt this much.

Her heart clenched painfully, and for a moment, she wished she could rip it out of her chest just to make the pain stop.

The rejection wasn’t even the worst part.

No, it was the fact that Jeonghan had been so kind about it.

So understanding.

So… perfect.

Luna hated that about him.

Hated that he had been so gentle, so considerate when he let her down.

It would’ve been easier if he had been harsh if he had given her something to be angry about. But instead, he had given her nothing but soft words, valid excuses, and apologies.

The buzzing in her ears became a dull hum as the last of her sobs faded, and in the silence, her body slowly went numb as she curled up on the cold floor, hugging her knees to her chest as she let the pain settle deep within her heart.

Luna didn’t push away the pain this time; she allowed it to consume her, to wrap itself around her heart like a vice.

Every ache, every sharp sting of rejection, she accepted it— because maybe if she let herself feel it fully, let herself drown in it for just this moment, her heart would finally learn.

Maybe this time, the hurt would leave a scar deep enough to remind her, to teach her, that hoping for more was futile. That loving someone who didn’t feel the same way was a battle she was always destined to lose.

Maybe, she thought, maybe this time, my heart will finally take the hint and move on.

But deep down, Luna knew better.

She had tried to move on before— countless times—and it had never worked.

No matter how much she wished for it, her heart had always found its way back to Jeonghan. Always.

And now, as she lay there, broken and exhausted, she realized with a painful clarity that this wasn’t the push she needed to forget him.

No.

This was only the beginning.

It was still painful, though.

Knowing that the first guy she had ever liked— the first person she had truly opened up to— would never see her the same way.

Jeonghan had been the first person to approach her, the first person to become her friend, the first person she liked, and now, he was the first person to break her heart.

If only things had been different.

Life, however, moved on.

The next day came with the same grueling schedule and the same routines. Music shows, interviews, practice sessions, and variety show appearances all blurred together as if nothing in her world had been torn apart the night before.

Luna didn’t allow any cracks to show; she was an expert at wearing her mask by now. She laughed with the other members, joked with the staff, and smiled for the fans— all while something heavy settled deeper within her chest, like a stone she couldn’t quite shake off.

With Jeonghan, it was as if nothing had ever happened. No awkward tension lingered between them, no strained silences or hesitant interactions. He treated her the same way he always had— kind, supportive, teasing her whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Jeonghan was worried, of course.

Luna could see it in the way his eyes lingered on her a second longer than usual, the subtle softness in his voice whenever he spoke her name. But he didn’t push. He didn’t force her to talk about what had happened that night, didn’t ask for explanations or demand a conversation she clearly wasn’t ready to have.

Luna spoke to him like she always did, her tone light and unbothered.

Not once did she avoid him because, in her mind, avoiding him would only prove that she wasn’t okay.

And she desperately needed to be okay.

She couldn't allow anyone— especially Jeonghan— to know the truth despite knowing he probably already did.

That her heart still beat just as fast when he smiled at her, that every casual touch sent a familiar warmth spreading through her chest.

No, she wasn’t going to let anyone see that she was still hurting.

Not again.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and Luna realized quickly that nothing had changed with her feelings.

They hadn't diminished, they hadn't been pushed away. If anything, they only grew stronger the more she tried to bury them.

So, she made a decision: she would lock them up deep down in her chest, chain her heart, and throw away the key.

It was better like this. Safer.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

Because no matter how far Luna thought she’d thrown the key, somehow, in some twisted cosmic joke, it landed straight into Jeonghan’s hands.

Unbeknownst to her, he had already begun to notice the cracks beneath her carefully crafted facade, the moments where her smile faltered just a little too long, or when her gaze lingered on him longer than she intended.

Jeonghan, who had always been so attuned to her, had found the key she so desperately wanted to hide.

And little by little, without her even realizing it, he was using it to unlock the very heart she was trying so hard to protect.

A year had passed since that night.

A year since Luna had bared her soul, and Jeonghan had rejected her.

It was 2018 now, during the filming of the music video of their song ‘THANKS’ and the air was thick with a quiet intensity as the members pushed through a grueling day of shooting.

But even amidst the rush and exhaustion, Jeonghan couldn’t help himself. His eyes followed Luna from a distance, as they often did.

She was talking animatedly to the camera set up for their ‘Inside SEVENTEEN’ behind-the-scenes footage.

Luna’s laugh echoed faintly across the set, and Jeonghan couldn’t stop noticing the smallest things about her.

The way her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when she smiled— an indication that it was real, genuine, a smile that Jeonghan hadn’t seen in far too long. He noticed how her hair danced in the light breeze, strands occasionally kissing her face before she absentmindedly brushed them away.

Her smile stretched wide, almost reaching her ears, a sign that today, she was happy. Genuinely happy.

And Jeonghan was thankful for that. He’d worried about her for so long.

Luna turned toward him then, catching his gaze. For a moment, time seemed to slow as she smiled at him—soft, warm, real.

Jeonghan returned it with a smile of his own, but the second her attention shifted back to the camera, where she began laughing about something with Dokyeom who sneaked up on her from behind, his heart twisted in a way he hadn’t expected.

Jeonghan would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about her confession every day since it happened. Because he had. It had haunted him, followed him into every quiet moment, and lingered in every glance they shared.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it— about her. He hadn’t stopped worrying about her since that night, either.

The truth was, he admired her— he always had.

Jeonghan admired the strength she had to smile and laugh even when she must’ve been hurting inside.

He admired how effortlessly beautiful she was, today, yesterday, and every day in between.

He admired how she seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders but never let it dim her light.

But as Jeonghan watched her now, laughing freely with Dokyeom, something sharp and bitter jabbed at his chest.

It was innocent, of course. Luna and Dokyeom had always been close. Their laughter was nothing more than friendly.

But that didn’t stop the sudden realization from slapping Jeonghan across the face: he couldn’t keep this lie up any longer.

The lie that he had been telling himself since the night Luna confessed to him.

When she had stood there, vulnerable and raw, spilling her heart out, he had been scared.

He’d made excuses— talked about professionalism, about the team, about the risks. But deep down, they were just that— excuses.

He had lied, not to her, but to himself.

Because he felt the same.

He always had.

And he’d been too scared to admit it, too scared to face what it would mean to let himself fall for her.

If only he hadn’t lied.

If only he hadn’t been scared.

If only he had the courage to do what his heart had been telling him all along.

But the sight of her laughing with someone else, even if it was innocent, hit him like a bolt of lightning.

The thought of someone else making her laugh like that, of someone else being the reason behind those genuine smiles— he couldn’t handle it.

Jeonghan couldn’t let someone like Luna go.

Not now.

Not ever.

His hands were clammy as he fidgeted with the hem of his top, his leg bouncing anxiously. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, it felt like it might burst out. There was a smile creeping up on his face, a warmth spreading through him, and for a moment, Jeonghan wondered if he was going into cardiac arrest.

But then, no… this wasn’t heart failure.

This wasn’t a symptom of physical pain.

This was him falling for Bae Jiyeon.

It wasn’t fear.

It was exhilaration.

It was the undeniable truth that he couldn’t keep hiding anymore. He was falling for her— had been for a long time, but now, it was clear as day. The thought of her with anyone else made him feel like he’d lose a piece of himself.

And there was only one way to fix that.

Jeonghan wasn’t discouraged by his mistakes from the past. No. He was determined now— more than ever.

Determined to make this right, to tell her what he should’ve said a year ago.

Determined to hold onto her before it was too late.

With the key to Luna’s heart, which she had thrown away in her desperate attempt to lock her feelings deep inside, now firmly in Jeonghan’s grasp, he was determined to unlock a future they both had wished for but were too hesitant and scared to reach.

Jeonghan is determined to do anything to turn the if only into an unequivocally so.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

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[realisticfanfictions]

Being Sanji's Girlfriend & Baratie's Head Waitress.

Sanji x Waitress!Reader

Working at Baratie wasn't without its challenges, and the fights that sprung up because of them weren't rare either. You and your boyfriend never sweated the small stuff, after all working in a high stress environment made you, well, stressed. But maybe some things can't be resolved that easily.

Tags: Sanji x Reader, Waitress!Reader, constant bickering, mostly fluff with some angst, (heavy) swearing.

A/N: I love the Waitress!Reader so much for OPLA, so I've decided to do another one! I had to split this up into multiple parts, cause this ended up being a bit long. (Link to part two.)

Word Count is 4,829. Hope you enjoy!

"Where the fuck are my entrees?!" Your voice echoed in the enclosed space, cutting through the melodic and rhythmic sounds of frying, chopping and other things that went on in a kitchen. You brushed past another waitress who wisely got out of your way, your heels clicking against the tiles as you marched up to the pass and slammed your copy of the meal ticket down. "Chef!" You called out, pushing back a strand of your hair as you scanned the chefs who were cooking at a ferocious pace. You locked eyes with an unfortunate new chef, but despite him immediately looking at his feet and trying to walk by, you reached through the window and pulled him by the collar. "Who the hell is on entrees?" He stumbled over his words and you groaned in frustration at his pathetic attempt at the English language.

"That's me." You pushed him back and looked past the cowering chef at the man who had just spoken up, your boyfriend and the love of your life, Sanji. His normally pressed and tidy chef attire was in disarray with his shirt untucked and his sleeves stained with various sauces. He sounded hoarse and was covered in a thin layer of sweat as he cooked some type of meat, flipping it over in the pan to cook it evenly. Intense concentration was etched into his face and the way he scrunched his nose was adorable, but right now you couldn't think of anything else but punching it.

You opened your mouth to speak, but a nearby busboy ran in front of you and you snarled at him. "Watch it, asshole!" You refocused your attention back on the blonde in front of you. "I have thirty-eight tables out there with at least four head a table, and only two waitresses working the floor-!"

He shook his head and his pan aggressively hit the stove top each time he moved it. "You know, it sounds so hard to look pretty and run around in heels all night, but I actually have a real job-"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really. And I'd appreciate it if I didn't have you bitching in my ear all night!" He threw some butter in the pan and began to bast the meat.

"Then maybe, if you were actually good at your 'real job'," You said with quotation marks. "Then you'd tell me why the shit it takes thirty-five goddamn minutes for a premade french onion soup!"

He whipped around with a laddle in his hand and he marched over to the pass. You both bent down to see each other through the window. "Hey, if I had any fucking help around here I would have gotten that to you twenty minutes ago, but I'm stuck here-"

"And here we go!" You exclaimed as you threw up your hands dramatically and walked through the swinging doors. You avoided Pattie walking out with a tray of fresh bread and popped on an apron attached to a nearby hook.

"-with my thumb up my arse because apparently no one knows how to plate a damn steak in this kitchen!" He moved around you as you took his place, grabbing the offending meat and placing it atop of the mashed potatoes.

Annoyed, you grabbed the garnish. "Well, where the hell's the plating station?"

Sanji came back and unceremoniously dropped a large stock pot next to you. He bent down to look you in the eye and threw his hands up in the air. "He quit."

Your eyes widened and followed him as he walked to the other side of you and started plating beside you. "He what?"

"He fucking quit! Just like every other bitch who couldn't handle Tuesdays at the Baratie." His brows furrowed and he let out a small shout of frustration. "Whoever the fuck did the halibut, refry it!" He yelled as he set it off to the side. "Just 'cause we're busy doesn't mean you can push out a shit and pass it off as fine dining!"

You plated another order and put it under the heat lamp at the pass, then rang the bell, but no one came. "And we're short-staffed on waitresses too!" You exclaimed and spotted the busboy from before, "Oi! You! Get off your ass and start serving!" You threw your ticket-book and pen at him, which he barely caught from where he was sitting.

"B-But I'm washing dishes-!"

You dramatically gestured around. "We aren't even sending anything out, so unless you've been storing them up your rectum, what fucking dishes are you washing?!" You grabbed the french onion soup in the stock pot that Sanji had given you and quickly poured it into three bowls laced with garnish on top. "Take these to 12, and the steak to 24. Tell 12 that they'll get a free dessert in about twenty minutes. Well? Get a move on! You aren't getting paid to sit there and look pretty, 'cause you sure as hell ain't fucking pretty!" He scrambled to pick them up and he quickly ran out of the kitchen.

"That turned me on more than I'd like to admit." Sanji appeared beside you with another plate and rang the service bell. "If we weren't busy I'd kiss you, darling." He exclaimed as he grabbed a handful of garnish and placed it atop of the plate.

"Oi, fuckface." When he looked over, you quickly pressed a kiss to his lips and grabbed the metal tray of halibut. "Now, let's get these pretentious pricks fed!"

You both worked side by side, barking orders at each other and bickering over every little thing you could - even Zeff yelled at you both to shut up. But it worked. Within minutes, you both had worked through the back orders and finally got to a point where you weren't struggling to complete orders from guests who'd been waiting for hours. When the last table left, you and Sanji just about collapsed. Leaning against the cool wall tile with you by his side, he sighed. "That was definitely one of our busiest days," He said with pure relief that it was finally over.

You couldn't remain standing and slid down the wall, your high heels clicking as you sat down. "Yeah, who knew so many people would wanna celebrate Father's Day?" You replied sarcastically, but a playful smile told your boyfriend that you weren't being mean. He softly chuckled and followed suit, sliding down the wall until he reached the floor with a groan.

He pulled out his cigarettes. "I've earned one of these." He says as he puts it between his lips and waits for you to light it. You roll your eyes and oblige, taking out your lighter and lighting the end of it for him. He took a slow drag, closed his eyes, savoured it, and then exhaled out the smoke.

"You almost make lung cancer look sexy." You remarked with a grin, and he returned it with his own charming, beautiful smile.

His eyes slowly flicked up and down. "And you always make yelling and shouting look so sexy." He licked his lips and leaned in, giving you a kiss that lingered. Your eyes fluttered shut and you enjoyed the small respite from the craziness you had both just experienced. Even when the kiss eventually ended, neither one of you moved away. "Are you working tonight?" He asked under his breath.

You sighed and pecked his lips. "In two hours."

"Till?"

"Four."

"Shit."

"I know." You pressed your lips against his once more and moved some hair out of his face. "But, I'm not working tomorrow so we can sleep in."

He sighed. "I start at nine tomorrow."

"Till?"

"Six."

"Shit."

"I know." You both quietly laughed and pressed your noses together, then rubbed them together while stealing kisses and giggling like you used to when you were kids.

You'd been at the Baratie ever since you were fifteen, and you'd been dating Sanji since you were sixteen. It wasn't really something you both had officially decided on, nor did either one of you do this big, elaborate confession that made both of you ugly-cry. It happened slowly over time. Many customers and fellow staff would constantly tease you both with things like, "Where's your girlfriend, Sanji?" and, "Aw! You both are so cute together!" At first you both denied it, but eventually you just... stopped correcting people. You were each other's first kiss, first love... first love, and despite how it looks from the outside, you couldn't be happier.

"Oi, Sanji." You called out as you leaned closer to the mirror to focus on your eyeshadow. "Be careful, there's been a lot of pirate activity lately. They might stop by, so Zeff has officially-unofficially instated a no-tolerance policy for- Sanji!" You laughed when your boyfriend wrapped his arms around you and you struggled to do your makeup while Sanji hung off of you and pressed kisses along your cheek. "You toad! You're going to ruin my smokey eye."

He playfully moaned. "But you're so sexy," He whined and pulled back enough to give you puppy eyes. "And you shouldn't work tonight if there's pirates anyway."

"I still have to work." You replied, giving up on doing your makeup and stealing a quick kiss from him. "I'm the head of front-of-house, I can't just ring up Zeff and say, 'hey, your son wants to sleep with me so I can't come in today!'"

"No, you can't." At the sound of his voice, you looked up to see that your boss had entered you and Sanji's shared room. He would have seen the neatly pressed and ironed button-downs wrapped around hangers, and two mismatching pairs of high heels strewn about the floor. His eyes met yours. "We have a full house of rich, but important pricks tonight, and I need all hands on deck. If someone calls in sick, drag them out of bed if you have to."

Your boyfriend pouted playfully. "But she never gets any time off, can't we just-"

"(Y/N) is our head of house, she's too important to lose tonight." Zeff straightened up and crossed his arms over. "Little Eggplant, you can't distract (Y/N) from doing her job. Unlike you, she has to work to stay here." The old man looked over at you and you nodded, you knew that you were a staff member first and foremost - being the girlfriend of his adopted son was second to that.

Sanji's smile tightened, and he stood up. "I know." His blue eyes flashed with something that you meant he wanted to say something but didn't. His smile returned when he looked at you. "I'll see you in the morning."

As he brushed past Zeff and walked out of the room, you furrowed your eyebrows at your boss and father figure. "Now that's one way to get him pissed off at you." The words came out a little more aggressive than you meant to, but you didn't bother correcting yourself.

He sighed and turned to leave. "Leave it alone, (Y/N)."

"And one way to get me pissed off at you too." You dropped your eyeshadow onto the table and followed after him. His wide frame took up quite a bit of space in the hallway, but you squeezed past him to block his path.

Zeff groaned when he saw you and squeezed the bridge of his nose, then released it to gesture while he spoke. "(Y/N), I apologise if you felt offended. You're a part of our family, and--"

"I don't care about that." You scoffed in disbelief and gawked at his lack of social awareness. "You must be really thick in the skull if you think I'm upset about that."

His face scrunched up. "Then what are you upset about? Hm? What are you upset about now?" He gestured behind you. "I have dinner service to prep for," He started to list off on his fingers. "I have a team of flaky waitresses-your team of flaky waitresses to deal with, and I need to make sure that we have enough lamb being delivered for our special tonight. So what could it possibly be that is so important you're holding me up for?"

You counted to five in your head before opening your mouth to speak. "I love him. And I don't give a rat's ass that you sign my paycheck, or give me a roof over my head. You don't make Sanji, my boyfriend and your son, feel shitty just because you think it'll toughen him up. And you certainly don't use me to do that." You keep your gaze locked onto his. "You ever do that again? I walk." You stepped backward and straightened up. "I'll get the team ready for service."

You never regretted what you said. Was your tone harsher than it should've been? Yes, but you needed to get your point across to him. There wasn't any time to think about it though, because it was Friday night and thirty minutes before opening - you didn't have the time to regret what you said.

"Ladies!" You called out, then smiled. "And Sapi." Said fishman smiled at your acknowledgement as your team of staff gathered around to form a semi-circle in front of you. You held up your checklist. "We have fifteen V.I.P tables tonight. I expect everyone to be on their best behaviour. That means no frowning, no blowing your nose on the customer's napkins, and no- oh my God, Macy. If you don't shut the fuck up." The red-lipped, pigtail-wearing waitress jolted back from where she was gossiping with another waitress. You raise your brows at her as if to ask if she was done and rolled your eyes. "And no unprofessionalism." You finished with a glare.

Spai cleared his throat. "How many free tables do we have tonight?"

You looked back at the clipboard and flipped over the page, counting quietly to yourself. "There's two at seven and one at eight. The two at seven are one and eight, and the one at eight is seven. One can be for eight, but don't offer seven to under six because seven and six are over eight. Got it?"

The room was quiet for a moment, and Sapi slowly blinked. "May I have a copy of that, please?"

"I'll bring one to your station," You looked around. "Any questions?" Silence. "Good. Now, put on your fakest smile and happy ga-ga voice - we've got a line of ships waiting to be fed!"

"Let's do this, team!" Macy's voice screeched out and she was met with silence.

You exhaled gruffly and squeezed the bridge of your nose. "Macy, I swear to- let's do this, team!" This time, it was met with a round of cheer as they dispersed to familiarise themselves with their tables for the night.

A pleased sigh escaped you, content with your small but mighty team that you had managed to drag out of bed to work the floor. A glance to the suspiciously blank specials menu made you curse under your breath. You were going to have to talk to Zeff to get tonight's specials. With a defeated sigh, you clipped your pen to your shirt and sucked in a deep breath, before making your way to the kitchen where it sounded like food preparations were already underway.

"...and get those lamb in the cold room!" Zeff's voice was apparent the second you walked through those doors. The kitchen was a mess of people marching backwards and forwards like ants while Zeff, their queen, barked orders as they passed by. You thought about just turning around and pretending that the fight had never happened in the first place, but the old man spotted you and waved you over with a finger. "What can I get you, Sprout?" You breathed out a sigh of relief, hearing his nickname for you was like a wave of fresh air.

You straightened up and grabbed your pen. "Hey geezer, what's the specials tonight?"

He waited for you to finish writing "Specials" across the top of your sheet of paper. "We have Lobster Thermidor paired with the 1500s Chardonnay, or a White Burgundy if they snub the Chardonnay. Then we have classic Red-Wine Braised Lamb Shanks that you can pair with any Grenache you find." He slid a piece of paper to you. "These are the prices. I only want you handling checks tonight."

Out of sheer habit, you slipped the piece of paper into your bra. "Why's that?"

"Because someone messed up the till last night, and I want someone I can trust running it."

That made your heart clench. You sighed. "Look, Zeff," You started and lowered your clipboard. "I'm sorry for stepping out of line earlier. I was angry. Sanji was trying to get some 'us' time because we haven't even been awake at the same time for the last couple months. And when we have it's been with me running the floor and him- you know what I mean. Look, I'd never walk out on you, Zeff."

His face, as always, was blank, but you can tell he was processing what you had just said. He was quiet, but then he nodded. "Get those specials on the board. We open in ten." You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded, then turned around. "Don't fuss, little brussel sprout."

A smile wormed its way onto your face and you looked over your shoulder at him. "Fussin' ain't worth fussing over. Isn't that what you say?" You barely dodged an incoming head of lettuce.

"Good evening, welcome to the Baratie. My name is (Y/N), can I get you started with some drinks tonight?" You were a natural at this. It didn't matter if you were having an "anti-person day", as Sanji called it, there was no denying that you had talent.

The man with soft, pink hair hummed and looked over the menu. His brass knuckles glistening under the dim lighting of the restaurant. "What are your specials for the night?"

A polite smile went a long way. "The chef has prepared for you a selection of the most wonderful meals made only from the finest and freshest ingredients in the Ease Blue. We have Lobster Thermidor paired with a Chardonnay that I find adds a bit of a fruity, uplifting compliment to the meal. And we have our high-in-demand Lamb Shanks braised in a nice red wine, and paired with only the best Grenache you can find for miles." You didn't bother telling him that it was the same Grenache you had found in the back of the freezer from four months ago.

"That sounds lovely, and what is the cost?"

You quietly hissed and looked over at the beautiful blonde who was sitting across from him, then leaned in to whisper. "I find it's best not to discuss such things on a date. You wouldn't want her to think she isn't worth it, right?"

Well, that certainly worked. He slowly looked between you and his date, who smiled sweetly and encircled the rim of her glass with her perfectly manicured french tips. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. "You're right. We'll take one of each, and I'll have to rely on you for what pairs best."

You took the menu he offered with a smile and a nod. "Very well sir, I hope you two enjoy yourselves. Our bar is open all night." And with a wink, you danced away to the kitchen to place 'his' order. It was easy with men like that. All you had to do was dangle their woman's respect in front of them and they'd eat shit just to keep her smiling. But despite the monotony of it at times, you met a lot of interesting people from different backgrounds. You gave a small wave at the man at table two, a regular who had just come back from his royal ballet tour appearance and was with his rich, aristocrat girlfriend, who he said wasn't feeling well.

An set of voices, loud and uncouth, came from above and you stopped to cast a glance upwards. They were... pirates? Well, Zeff did say that they'd been more active around this area as of late, so it wasn't that much of a surprise - especially since there was already a couple tables of them. Sapi looked a little overwhelmed, so you sighed and grabbed a nearby waitress. "Could you take an order to the kitchen for me? It's table three with the two specials, two too. The man at two in the tutu wants it blue, but not at two with Ms. Sue in the red shoes. She has a touch of the flu, so any red meat or roux will make her spew. Got it?"

She blinked. "I think so?"

You patted her on the shoulder and briskly floated up the stairs with as much grace as a head waitress could muster. Their conversation slowly grew louder and you were able to hear some of their conversation. "My apologies, but I don't accept money for-"

"Is there something I can help you with?" At your words, the group looked over and Sapi, who had been trying to refuse some berri the orange-haired woman was offering him, visibly relaxed.

"Nothing is the matter, this group was just leaving." He answered and looked at them to see if they got the hint. The woman sighed in defeat and pocketed her cash. You looked over at the two young men leant against the railing staring into the restaurant below, they were very excited and looked as if they hadn't eaten a proper meal for a few days.

With your mind set, you glanced over at the time, then straightened up and smiled. "You know what? It's seven, so I believe we might have a booth available if that's suitable for your needs?"

She smiled and breathed out a small sigh of relief. "Thank you, here-"

You held up a hand before she could reach into her pocket. "Save that for your meal." With a quick nod to Sapi, you stepped aside and gestured toward the staircase. "Follow me." The man with green hair and three swords rubbed you the wrong way almost the second you laid eyes on him, and you could tell he felt the same way. It was almost a sense of mutual familiarity. But you broke off eye contact to lead the rest of this strange, rambunctious crew further into the Baratie. "The Baratie was established by our current owner Zeff, and we recently celebrated our tenth anniversary."

The boy in the straw hat gawked at everything he saw and heard you say, and smiled brightly. "This place looks like it serves good food!"

That brought a smile to your face. "It does," You said as you guided them to their booth amidst other pirates and similar rough-looking guests. "And I don't just say that because my boyfriend's the sous chef."

"Are you sure about that?" The guy in a pirate costume asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief and laughing along with his young friend.

You smiled along and shook your head. "I'll let you guys get settled in and will return in about five minutes with a menu. Please enjoy the music." With a few friendly waves and a "see you in a bit!" from the straw hat boy, you turned and walked toward the back of the room to collect a few menus.

Suddenly, the door slammed open and your boyfriend appeared looking more than a bit annoyed. You didn't even think he was on the line tonight, but your attention was drawn to two men who had began to cause a bit of a ruckus. You weren't close enough to hear what was being said, but you tucked the menus under your armpit and darted toward the pair that were now being consoled by Sanji. "...we don't waste food, and there's no fighting at the Baratie." You slowed your walk toward them and continued at a crawl. The man you had served not that long ago was dealing with a rowdy pirate. You heard something that sounded like a threat and Sanji spoke up again, his voice cutting through the argument before it had the chance to escalate. "And I'd like to pour you each a glass of Ithürzburger Stein. On the house."

The pirate nodded. "Okay, I'll have that drink." His brows furrowed and his voice grew irrate. "After he apologies for his bad manners!"

"Over my dead body." That was certainly the wrong answer. With a growl, they both lunged for each other and you sped toward them, watching as Sanji, in a blur, flipped over the table and kicked each of them.

The pink haired man grunted and got back up on his feet, drawing his gun but then froze when he felt something cold dig into his back. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." You warned, shoving your own gun into his back and whispered in his ear. "Drop it." Like the coward he was, he did and you effortlessly slammed the butt of your weapon into his temple - knocking him out cold.

You motioned for a nearby waitress to deal with the unconscious men, then snapped your attention to Sanji who picked up his plate of scones and continued his walk. "No cause for alarm, folks. Please, enjoy your meals." He called out and you quickly pocketed your gun back into your thigh-holster, smoothing out your dress and turning to the waitress who had arrived at your side.

After gesturing for her to take them out the back door, you readjusted yourself and quickly walked up to Sanji's side who's forced smile made you tilt your head in confusion. He shook his head, he didn't want to talk about it just yet. You both made the few steps over to the table you had just seated and, despite his mood, he set down the plate with his usual grace. "Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?" While he spoke, you placed down some menus and tried to ignore the straw hat boy who was currently stuffing his face full of our complimentary scones.

The woman grabbed a menu from you with a smile, but the others had their eyes locked onto Sanji. "One of everything, please!" The straw hat boy called out without taking a look at the menu you had walked twenty feet in high heels to collect.

"Any drinks?" Your boyfriend offered as he shoved his hands into his pocket, unconsciously looking for his packet of smokes that you knew he couldn't light. You briefly wondered if you should offer him a smoke break to calm him down. "One of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal?"

"Giving us the hard sell, huh?" She asked as she slowly lowered her menu and you found it increasingly harder not to smack the blond.

And, as usual, his entire demeanour changed. "Apologies, madam. I didn't see you there. Would you care for an aperitif to start? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock. Or perhaps you'd like a glass of Umeshu? You know, something sweet-" He winked. "-for someone sweet."

"Something wrong with your eye?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

You cleared your throat. "No, but there is something wrong with his head if he thinks he can flirt with another girl in front of his girlfriend."

That garnered a few giggles, snickers and mock gasps from the table. Sanji chuckled and turned to you. "I hope I'm not in the doghouse tonight?" He pulled you in and gave you a quick kiss on your cheek, but you waved him off.

"We'll see." You shot him a not-so-serious warning look and focused back on the table. "Sorry about that, did I hear you were after some drinks?"

The green-haired male looked you up and down, faint recognition in his eyes as he cleared his throat. "Can I get a beer and something for my friends?"

The pirate-costumed man spoke up. "Two beers. I usually have three, but-"

"And a milk!"

You scribbled down their orders, and Sanji's hand crept around your waist. "Three beers and a milk. And, uh, for madam?"

"Water."

"Still, sparking, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?"

You stopped writing and slowly looked up to your boyfriend. "...Taken, Sanji." You reminded him and he stared back at you innocently.

Even the woman leaned back in confusion. "Regular water, in a regular glass. Thanks."

"Right away." He said with a wistful expression, and with the roll of your eyes, you dragged him away before he made a further fool of himself.

AN: Sorry about ending it there, but it was getting WAY too long and I figured it'd be easier to break it up into multiple pieces rather than having one solid chunk of 12k words. Or however long this fic ends up being. I'm actually kinda digging it, so I may continue to write it for a while! Also, I have no idea how old Sanji is meant to be in this universe? According to the internet (and the massive reddit fight I accidentally spawned) it's a tossup between 19 and 26 (OP Sanji's vs the actor's actual age.)

I also hope you appreciate the word-puns. I don't know why but I really enjoy writing them and love to include them in my writing-

[ghouldump]

hi i love your writing unfortunately there aren't many fics for the iwtv so tysm!!

i was wondering if you could write something about louis lestat and claudia with a (vamp?) reader that accidently timetraveld

Back In My Arms | Lestat x Reader x Louis

ෆ time traveling accidentally and you're able to relive bittersweet memories.

thank you and I agree, especially the amc version compared to the movie. The other posts are coming, but I had to rush and get this one out because it was so gut wrenching for me 😭 LOL

“What do you think? The blue or the purple,” you held the dresses to your body.

“I prefer your birthday suit,” Lestat said over the classical music, making you roll your eyes at him. Could he ever be serious when you needed him to be?

“Louis,” you called out, wanting a real opinion.

“Hm? Oh, the purple” he was hardly listening, more focused on the pages of the book.

“So the blue, got it,” you grumbled, storming away, to finish packing your things.

“Ma chèrie, why are you leaving again? It truly makes no sense to me why you remain friends with this mortal,” Lestat said.

“I don't see why you care, it's not like either of you will notice I’m away,” you said, as you closed the bag.

“Don't say that, we do notice,” Louis said, defensively.

“I'll only be away for a night,” you mumbled, checking your appearance in the mirror, and slinging the bag over your shoulder.

“Stay, you can give us a more detailed visual representation of the dresses,” Lestat said, straightening his posture when you scoffed.

“Sex doesn't fix everything”

“It is a start”

“And maybe that's why we’re in the situation we’re in, now, if you'll excuse me, I’m going hang with my mortal friend, who communicates with me and doesn't want to block out our problems with Mozart, books, and sex,” you said, storming out of the townhouse, making sure to slam the door.

Getting into your car, you began to drive to your close friend, George, or Georgie, you called him both. He was middle-aged, although he was closing in on becoming elderly. He'd oftentimes been told he resembled Bill Nye, but those comments usually only made him red in the face, before he sent a storm of swear words at the person, in his thick Cajun accent. Divorced and cut out of his kid's lives, he was lonely, but so were you. Georgie was the only mortal to ever know that you were a vampire, and he made you feel normal.

Although having a few questions at first, he eventually let the matter go, and hardly ever brought it up. The two of you had been friends for nearly a decade now, and you planned to hold on until the bitter end. He wasn't too keen on being turned, scorned by his wife leaving him and his children siding with her. Lestat and Louis weren't comfortable with your friendship at all, but after realizing your relationship was completely platonic and you weren't cutting him out of your life, they grungily accepted him.

As you finally parked in front of Georgie’s house, approaching the door, you shook your head, discovering it was unlocked. Letting yourself in, you locked the door, going to where you'd both hang out for hours, his basement.

“You need to keep your door locked old man, anyone could just walk in here,” you said, going down the stairs. Tossing your bag onto the couch you'd usually sleep on, in the windowless room.

“Nobody comes here but you,” he said, making you laugh.

“So how is it going?” you asked, sitting in a nearby chair.

“A little more progress than last time, how are things at home?”

“Lestat is…well Lestat and Louis will always act like our issues aren't there,” you shrugged.

“Have you tried talking to them?”

“Of course, Lestat doesn't take anything seriously enough, and Louis wants to brush over it all,” you said.

“Hopefully, this is a success, because then we can fix everything,” Georgie smiled.

“Maybe you, but I don't see my problems being fixed”

“Don't underestimate science,” he told you.

Georgie had been working on an actual time-machine portal. He believed if he could go back in time, undo his mistakes, could prioritize his family over work, maybe that would stop his wife from having an affair with the neighbor, from leaving him and draining his wallet, and taking his children who he couldn't even get a happy birthday from.

He insisted that you would be able to use it, to repair your companionship. A long time had passed since 1910 and much tragedy and heartbreak happened. Separating from each other and eventually reconnecting, recently everything had been so stagnant and bland. No energy to argue about obvious conflicts, but unwilling to leave each other again and be forced to deal with the pain.

“Oh, my goodness,” Georgie stood up, his hand going to his chest. Your eyes widened, worried that he would croak.

“What is it?” you asked, you couldn't sense any internal issues, noticing his thoughts were jumping for joy.

“I think…I think it works,” he said, as he began to type on the nearby computer. The pod he'd spent years building, lit up, the white light faint.

“It turns on, how will you know if it works for real?” you asked.

“Could you maybe catch a few raccoons, rats, birds, anything, we can try on them,” he asked. Standing up, you went outside, quickly grabbing a rat from near the drainage, bringing it to him.

“Done,” you smiled, holding it firm, tossing it in the pod, as he opened the door. The rat squeaked a bit, running in circles, as Georgie typed.

The machine began to make a noise before the rat burst. It’s guts splattering on the door.

“Ew, what happened?” you asked him, pressing against the door, to look inside in disgust.

“It seems like it is releasing some sort of radiation, too strong for animals and people, I'll have to keep working on it,” he grumbled disappointedly.

“I could try it if you want,” you offered.

“The radiation will be damaging-

“In case you forgot, I’m hardly human anymore, I am a bit intrigued, the worst thing that could honesty happen is I get burned up, and I’ll heal,” you said, as he faced you.

“Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like you have to do this, Y/n,” he said, but you brushed him off.

“Trust me, I don't, but you've put so much time into this, almost as long as I've known you, I want this to work out for you,” you said.

“Okay, let me get suited up, to clean it first,” he said, changing into the nbc suit to clean the inside of the pod. While waiting for him, you checked your phone, seeing a message from Louis.

“Sending a picture of the dress, I’m sure you look beautiful as always”

Smiling softly, you set your phone on the counter, taking your shoes off, watching as Georgie scrubbed the blood away. Little did Louis know, you wouldn't be wearing the dress to go hunting tonight. As soon as he finished cleaning, he was back at your side, typing on the monitor.

“We’ll do, let's say 5 minutes into the future, I’ll think of a number and when you come back, tell me the number, and time it to see if there is a significant change in time,” he said, as you nodded in agreement, accepting the small stopwatch, stepping into the pod.

Your arms at your sides, you briefly gave him a thumbs up, hoping to reassure his anxious thoughts. Typing on the computer, the pod began to light up again, the noise leaking out before it started to shake. Standing up, Georgie stood with his eyes wide, his jaw dropping as you vanished.

“Oh my Lord, it's working,” he said, his hand shakily went to his mouth.

Back at home, Louis and Lestat were relaxing, leisurely lounging around when it happened. A sudden feeling of dread washed over them as if you were gone. Glancing at each other, both of them stood up, rushing from the house to your friend, George's home. Bursting through the door, they went downstairs.

George looked back, gasping, surprised to see the elder vampires. However, before he could say anything or move, Lestat had him pressed against the wall, his hand around his neck.

“What did you do?”

“M-machine,” he choked out, looking over at the pod.

“Lestat, look,” Louis said, staring at the pod, fog seeping from the bottom.

“What is this?” he continued, looking to George.

“Time machine,” he struggled to say, before Lestat dropped him.

“You didn't put her into your experiment,” Louis said out loud, shaking his head, already pacing the floor.

“She offered, and it was only five minutes into the fut-

Suddenly, within the fog, you could be seen, smiling in excitement from the exhilaration of the atoms passing through your body. Your smile quickly faltered, seeing your lovers and a nervous Georgie.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Get her out of it, now,” Lestat told Georgie.

“Leave him alone,” you argued.

“This isn't safe, Y/n, we thought you were gone,” Louis told you.

“Don't parent me, Louis”

“Get her out of it now, or it will be destroyed,” Lestat said, shoving George into the computer, his hands smashing against the keyboard.

“Stop it, Lestat,” you yelled.

“What did you do?” George stressed, as the machine lit up. Typing as quickly as possible, he couldn't see the results that he needed.

“Y/n, he made me press a few buttons, it is going to the past, I don't know how far, but I’m going to fix it,” Georgie said apologetic.

“What?” Lestat and Louis said at the same time.

“Do not kill him, fucking asshole,” you said before vanishing.

“Can you bring her right back?” Louis asked.

“I don't even know how far it has brought her”

“Well figure it out,” Lestat snapped.

“This is your fault, she told me all about you and your ugly ways,” George said. Tilting his head, Lestat was about to reach for him, but Louis grabbed his arm.

“He has to bring her back to us,” he reminded him.

“She is going somewhere in the 19th century, I can't pinpoint where and when. Time should be a little longer through the pod, so I’d estimate a few hours for us if it is a success”

“For us?” Louis asked.

“IF it is a success?” Lestat screamed at the same time as him. George truly didn't understand what you saw in the dramatic man, other than his good looks.

“I've been studying this for some time now and with time travel, it could feel like days, or even longer, but in reality, it should only be a few hours, and I say if because we haven't tried going to the past. The pod isn't sustainable for the undead and Y/n getting in was the first actual progress of real-time travel,” he explained.

“Maybe one of us could go in and-

“No, that is the worst solution, we don't know where she went, so I wouldn't know where to send you and it is only one pod, and overloading the database is the last thing that needs to happen, we’ll give it a few hours,” George said, standing.

“Where are you going?” Lestat asked him.

“Have a glass of wine, if it could take a few hours, I’m going to relax for a while, you're free to make yourselves comfortable,” he said, stepping out of the NBC suit, before going up the stairs.

“We just have to wait,” Louis reassured Lestat, who stood staring at the pod, unable to believe this was happening.

As the pod finally stopped shaking, you peered outside at the change of setting. You were outside, Georgie nowhere to be seen. Turning on the stopwatch, you muttered an apology to him, before punching the thick glass and pushing the door open. Immediately, you recognized the familiarly different environment.

Your bare feet touching the dirt, you recognized the small, poorly built houses. You hadn't seen these houses in ages after Katrina wiped the remaining pieces away.

“Hey, what are you doing-

“You saw no one here, and you won't let anyone get near this precious contraption, now go on inside,” you glamoured the man, watching as he went back up the stairs, into the house.

Sighing, you began to leave the area, ignoring the strange stares. From the way everyone dressed, you were somewhere between the first three decades of the 19th century, and you were sticking out like a sore wearing the knee-length sundress. There was only one place you knew to go, to be sure of the date.

Coming to a complete stop in front of your home, you could see the lights on. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that if they were here, this wasn't the same Louis and Lestat you were having issues with, and so you'd have to act accordingly.

Opening the door, you could hear the shuffling of feet and the sound of furniture being torn apart. Furrowing your eyebrows, you went upstairs, surprised to see them in that room. Making eye contact with Louis, he did a double take.

“Y/n,” he said, taken away by your beautiful, he hadn't seen a dress made in such a way before, shorter than average, but still classy.

Hearing your name, Lestat opened that lovely pink coffin, climbing out, and tossing the diary to the side.

“Ma chérie, you stopped for shopping?” he asked, a small smirk in place.

“Did you see her?” Louis finally asked. At a loss of words, you struggled to speak for a moment.

“I'm sorry, I'm not feeling like myself, what year is it?” you asked.

“1920, you alright?” Louis asked, approaching you.

“Look who finally decided to crawl home to her coffin and write about her psychosexual behavior,” Lestat spat.

“You read my diary?” hearing that beloved voice, your eyes began to sting.

“Only a little bit,” Louis confessed.

“I read all of it and you are a little deviant brat,” Lestat said, as you slowly turned around. The bloody tears began trickling down your cheeks, as you stared into her eyes. She was real, in the flesh, not a figment from your dreams or old photos, but was here in front of you.

“Claudia,” you said, her name flowing from your lips caused you to visibly tremble.

“Mama,” she started, concerned, her eyes widening as you rushed over, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.

Weeping bitterly, you held her close, unwilling to let her slip away this time, whispering sweet words of love to her. Confusedly, she hugged you back, as you both sat on the floor, holding her in your arms.

While the two men were originally set on disciplining their wild daughter, their concern now shifted to you.

“Claudia, you've been reckless-

“They're buried in Chalmette,” you interrupted, Lestat, your hand comfortingly brushing over her curls.

“How do you know that?” Louis asked, but you ignored him.

“My beautiful girl,” you whispered, hugging her one last time tightly, before letting her go.

“Are you okay, mama?”

“I couldn't be better at this moment,” you reassured her, kissing her forehead.

“Let her off this time, please, for me, she's still a child, and there will be a time when we wish we still had our beautiful girl staying here with us,” you said, facing them, seeing your blood-stained face, they were beyond concerned.

“It's still a little early for bed, perhaps you'd like to play a game of chess?” you asked her, wiping your eyes and accepting her hand, as she stood up.

Going into the living room, Claudia couldn't help but think about how unusually attentive you were being. Sure, she was just as spoiled as other children, but you never stopped her from being disciplined when you all agreed she needed to be.

“Claudia, you know I love you, right?” you asked her, watching as she set up the game.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Without you, an eternity isn't the same,” you admitted, as Lestat and Louis came downstairs, joining the two of you.

Your lovers watched you intentively, as you played the game with Claudia. Lestat noticed how you were letting her win, purposely moving to the wrong places, as she took your pieces while showering her with praises.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about the interaction seemed different. Any other time you played chess with her, you gave her a challenge, expressing where she was improving or where she needed work. This time, you were treating her like a little child, like you hadn't seen her in forever, or would never see her again.

Time flew and after two long rounds, Louis stood, announcing Claudia needed to go to bed. Groaning, she stood, wanting to stay longer, but you shook your head.

“It's okay, you need your beauty rest, I love you so much, sleep well,” you told her, hugging her firmly once more.

“Love you too,” she mumbled before she was stomping up the stairs.

“Are you sure you are okay, ma chérie?” Lestat asked, as soon as her bedroom door shut.

“I am, I just, the thought of one day losing her, or being apart hurts my soul, our relationship would probably never be the same,” you said, smiling sadly at him.

“Why would we never be the same?”

“Because she's our daughter, and it would take losing her to see how much she is loved, even you, she's so much like you and that's why you clash so much,” you laughed.

“Wouldn't that make us stronger?”

“I wish that was the case, but holding onto the past makes you unable to communicate like you're supposed to-

“Where is all this coming from? Talk to us, what's on your heart?” Louis asked.

“Please don't question me, but there will be a time when we are so weirdly uninterested in each other, and we try to block out our issues with reading, music, and sex,” you said.

“Why though?”

“Holding onto the past”

“Then you'd have to remind us of what is ahead and not behind,” Lestat said, leaning down, pecking your lips.

Feeling your face burn from the passionate kiss, you looked down, your eyes widening noticing your fingers faded. You have watched enough sci-fi movies with Georgie to know it was time for you to leave.

“I need to make a quick run-

“The sun will be up in another hour,” Louis told you.

“I know, I won't be long, love you both,” you said, pecking both of their lips, before running out of the house.

As you ran back to the backyard, you were surprised to see the man back outside.

“What are you doing?” you asked him, seeing as he sat on the steps, watching the pod.

“I saw some kids run back here, so I’m just watching this contraption,” he shrugged. Staring at the man, you recognized him, Georgie’s grandfather, but much younger. You had seen the few photos hanging up on the house and you identified the face quickly.

“If you had advice for a future relative, a son or grandson, what would you tell him?”

“Life gets hard, we make mistakes, and we lose people, but we have to hold onto the better part of things. I get divorced, but I was able to experience a beautiful marriage, same with children, I was fortunate to experience fatherhood”

“Beautifully said, go get some rest,” you said, glamouring him, watching as he nodded, going inside.

Carefully stepping over the broken glass, you cautiously stepped inside, shutting the door, as the fog came back, the machine lighting up, before you were gone.

“Anything?”

“You just asked me that a few minutes ago, please, have some damn patience,” George said to Lestat, who was pestering him about you. The man was trying as hard as he could and Lestat did not care one bit.

Suddenly, the pod lit up, the fog coming back. Typing on the computer the door opened, before you stepped out, your feet dirty.

“I was away 6 hours and 40 minutes, how long has it been?” you asked, tossing Georgie the stopwatch.

“2 long hours, you've been crying,” Louis said, going to pull you into a hug.

“I saw her, our girl, she was perfect,” you said, feeling him stiffen in your arms before his shoulders shuttered from crying.

“What was she doing?” he asked.

“She had gotten in trouble, but I convinced you both to let it go, and we spent time together,” you said, as he smiled, nodding.

“You told her you loved her?” he asked, hopeful.

“Yes,” you nodded, as the hug tightened before he pulled away.

“And you told me something, so valuable,” you said, shifting to Lestat.

“Of course I did,” he smirked.

“You told me to remind you both of what is ahead of us and not our past,” you said, watching as he dabbed his eyes, stopping any tears on his part.

“Sounds like something I’d say, I guess,” he grinned.

“Are you ready to come home? I know you're probably exhausted from all of this?” Louis asked, grabbing your bag when you nodded.

Glancing at Georgie, who stood awkwardly waiting for you to finish with your reunion. Moving away from Lestat, you stood in front of your good friend, before pulling into a hug.

“Someone dear to you told me some valuable advice I want to share with you,” you smiled.

“Okay”

“Life gets hard, we make mistakes, and we lose people, but we have to hold onto the better part of things. Our past isn't meant to be changed, but rather we embrace the experience, both good and bad, because it shapes us into who we are. You might not be able to get your marriage back, but you could try to reach out to your children, Georgie,” you said, smiling as he teared up, agreeing with you.

“We have our own affairs to handle,” Lestat groaned, ready to leave the tiny basement.

“Shh,” Louis nudged him before you followed the two out of the house.

“Now that I think about Lestat was more charming back then, but now it's you, Louis,” you said, both of you laughing as Lestat scoffed, going on a rant about his greatness.

You missed Claudia greatly, but you had to keep moving, you all did. You still had an eternity of life, but maybe one day, just maybe, when you're reunited, she'll be where she belongs, back in your arms.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil!

I don't want to sound like a killjoy, but I'm concerned about David Tennant's family being involved in the second season of Good Omens (or Michael Sheen's partner Anna Lundberg in a future season three). I absolutely have nothing against them, I loved Staged just like everyone else, but this is exactly the matter for me: casting them in the series would automatically make me think about Staged or something else while I'm watching GO, and it would distract me from the plot and the magic of it. It would feel somehow like a family reunion, no matter how talented they are as actors (not to mention that there would be nepotism accusations, above all against David. I hope this won't affect the popularity rating, since season three is still hypothetical). I'm not the only one who thinks this might be an issue, from what I read on blogs here on Tumblr (and on the Internet in general) but I feel like there's a sort of tension, like people are scared to say it out loud, because some fans get the wrong idea and accuse them of hating Georgia or Anna or Ty (and that's why I'm asking this anonymously, I don't want to start a fight). I hope you get what I'm saying, it only felt fair to me to let you know whatever concerns some fans might have, and maybe even give you a perspective you weren't considering? Of course you have the last word on this, and if you think this is not a big deal, I trust your judgement.

I wish you a fantastic day! (And sorry for my English, I'm not native, I tried my best!)

Yeah. So, I find that a little creepy, not very creepy, but definitely a bit.

I thought we were lucky to get Peter Davison in Good Omens 2. (He didn't audition. We offered him the part, as I've been a fan of his since 1978, and All Creatures Great and Small. He crushes it, and is heartbreaking, funny, and still somehow the moral compass of the episode he's in.) Ty Tennant auditioned, along with a number of other actors, and got the part because he did it best. (I didn't know who his family was when we cast him. I just liked the audition tape.)

If you're hunting down family connections, David's mother-in-law, Ty's grandmother, Sandra Dickinson, is in the Audible Sandman, too, as one of the Three Witches/Fates/Eumenides etc. And she was cast in it two years before David Tennant (although probably around the same time Michael Sheen was asked to be Lucifer). (I've been a fan of Sandra's since she was Trillian in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in 1981.)

Anyway, I'm sorry you're worried about Peter and Ty's performances, although I promise you have nothing to worry about, and I'm sorry that you worry that our possibly casting Georgia and Anna in a hypothetical and not-yet actually a real thing Season 3 might make people think of Staged and make them not able to enjoy Good Omens any longer. (Had I known people were this easily shaken I wouldn't have appeared in Staged either, in case my name at the front of Good Omens shattered the fragile illusion and revealed to people that the David Tennant and Michael Sheen who play Crowley and Aziraphale are actors.)

Starting in 2017 I was the recipient of mind-mangling quantities of Tumblr abuse for casting David Tennant and Michael Sheen as Aziraphale and Crowley, which was, many people made very clear to me, the worst casting in the whole entire utter history of casting, and something that Good Omens would never recover from, because for a start neither of them looked like the versions in people's heads, and I'd also miscast them badly because everyone knew that if you had to cast Sheen and Tennant, Michael had to play Crowley and David had to put on some weight and play Aziraphale. (It wasn't until May 2019 that people stopped grumbling.) So people worrying I'm going to cast Anna and Georgia in a season that hasn't even been commissioned in parts that haven't been written just makes me smile.

I hope this helps.

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 10

Part 9

EDDIE MUNSON'S NEW HOT PIECE?

The lead guitarist of acclaimed band Corroded Coffin is never far from a pretty face. What's the scoop on the newest one hanging off his arm? While their latest album Darkest Knights is climbing the charts is it possible that he's climbing into the sheets with a mystery man?

Steve scrolled through the article, expecting to find some highly invasive information from a sneaky journalist. But most of the writing was just telling readers who Eddie was and a couple of people he had publicly dated in the past. Probably because it was a mainstream publication and they didn't expect their usual viewers to know anything about a metal band.

The picture they used was of when they got to the venue the night of the concert. Eddie had walked Steve in with an arm around his waist. He went in search for any other information or reactions to this news. He wasn't an idiot. Fans could get pretty possessive over their idols. He was ever thankful that he wasn't very active online. At least not to the point where people could easily find and harass him.

Steve had always cautioned against reading too many comments on things. Online communities could quickly turn negative. But he had to see what they were saying about him and Eddie if he had any chance of defense.

Twitter was full of people giving their two cents either in their own posts or under other articles that were all saying the same thing. #CorrodedCoffin and Eddie Munson were both trending.

Quite a few weren't happy at the idea of Eddie shacking up with someone they had never seen before. Add to that the changed tour schedule and they were extra upset.

ro @ alittleunsteady i can't believe a random omega is taking care of eddie he's probably some money hungry whore

Right out the gate with that one. But Steve supposed it made sense from the outside, what with him being a nobody in the industry. And he was definitely benefitting off Eddie's money.

Star @ estrellamy who’s that wannabe? He even looks like a poser, look at his outfit, no way that’s real.

B @ bipanicroom replied: he's cute and I totally get Eddie wanting him for his rut but he definitely doesn't look the part for a long term omega I mean look at that polo shirt, our metal alpha needs some grunge

Okay, Steve laughed a little at those because, well, he stuck out next to Eddie. He'd mentioned perhaps changing his look to blend in with the crowd and Eddie had immediately vetoed it.

"Those bright ass jeans are like a lighthouse to this weary vessel", he had said. To which, Steve reminded him you're supposed to steer away from lighthouses.

"Whatcha laughin' at?", Eddie asked as he came back into the bedroom, carrying a tray of food.

Steve contemplated telling him about the cat being out of the bag, but it wasn't like they were keeping it a secret. It was just...something they didn't need to announce. He sat up, letting the blanket pool at his hips. They could keep the outside world outside just a little longer.

"Just some memes", then he took a deep breath as Eddie opened the curtain of their den. "Smells good."

Eddie put the tray across Steve's lap. "Pesto grilled cheese. With sun dried tomatoes."

"Fuck, that sounds good." Steve's stomach growled in agreement.

He and Eddie ate in bed, thankfully only getting a minimal amount of crumbs on it and cuddled. Eddie was the big spoon while Steve looked at some more comments. There were a few in a thread trying to figure out who he was and what his deal was. It seemed for as many as there were decrying Steve's fashion sense and how he was probably a gold digger, even twice as many were either in support or neutral.

He went to one of Eddie's fan pages which had a good amount of followers for their thoughts.

stream cc's darkestknights @ yourlove Omg y’all are so dumb, he is a literal rockstar why are you guys asking for explanations? That could be his boyfriend or just some rando, as long as I get good music who cares? Get a life atp really💀

Maple @ maplehazelnusse replied: right??? calm down he wasn't get with you either way

Steve felt Eddie's teeth grazing his skin, not even really sinking in, just squeezing lightly across his shoulders. He put his phone under the pillow, deciding that it all could well and truly wait. Eddie needed his full attention right now, even if he wasn't outright whining for it anymore.

While they spent another day wrapped up in each other, the media was having its usual field day. Eddie's unexpected rut would have made news on its own with it disrupting a tour. But add to it an omega that most of the world had never seen and it was a whole circus.

There were plenty who had actual concern over Eddie because sudden hormonal changes weren't fun. A youtuber posted a video summarizing the events of the past couple of days and under their video was an entire conversation regarding this.

@ thegenericcookie 2 days ago shout out to eddie Munson repping all of us off cycle bitches I had to postpone SUBMITTING MY THESIS because a stupid rut was 10 days early for no goddamn reason😞

@ fastimesatfasttimes 2 days ago OMG same! Its so embarrassing like "yo prof i gotta take of and go fuck myself for a week" >.<

@ grapesofyass 3 days ago is now a gud time to mention some places give rut leave but not heat leave?

Of course, when things of this nature came up, many voiced their opinions of the relationship, simply unable to help themselves. Especially since neither party were at all forthcoming about it. Photos surfacing of the two of them at the club and the sushi restaurant added fuel to the fire.

Sappy @ crazytipper67 eddie munson seen with RaNdoM OmeGA like we havent seen him all over his new bf for nearly a month now 😒 🥱 let not forget Eddie doesnt need to explain shit to us fr

GareBear @ garethsstressball like for real not to be a stalker but anyone whos been payin attention knows these two have been goin out a while

tigger @ corrodedcoughin12 he literally took him on tour i wouldn't be surprised if eddie was like actually courting him old fashioned style hes that type

mya @ amerikanscy Since when has Eddie been one to keep an Omega for this long? I bet as soon as his rut is over he'll just move on to the next like he always does. Who cares if he's been seen with Eddie more than once--if they were really anything to each other then they wouldn't be hiding it.

kas @ neveroncelostbutfound I mean, go off ig 🫤 jeff is not taken tho, right? RIGHT?

helix @ judyjetsuuuun replied: bestie.... image.jpeg

Attached was a very clear photo of Steve dancing with Jeff the night of the club and the resurgence of those pictures sparked all new conversations as Steve was seen dancing with everyone except Eddie.

jill @ jeffsnumbuh1 i just think its funny how when i posted pics of jeff that nite they got a lukewarm response but when the same pics show up with the guy i cropped out (out of respect for his privacy) somehow those got hundreds of shares

Everyone online was having a time. But for some, it was an unfortunate time. As was the case for those that Steve had known back home. Dustin was only a few years younger than Steve. He was pretty much an adult now. But it didn't make it any easier to see a section of the internet thirsting after his old babysitter. Some comments were tame and some were not.

countess @ dollarsandstars omg yay eddie's in love, boo its not me but yay him

estrella @ starsnstripes4never daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry.

bips @eddiemunsons2ndhusband EDDIE MUNSON IS TAKEN IM SOBBING HIS OMEGA IS SO PRETTY THO

Mark @ marklyblakemore Are we going to get news about a baby Munson soon🫣

fangs @ dusterjacketsarecool can you guys not? the dude literally drove me to middle school and made me go to sleep AT curfew when he watched me

When Dustin left that comment, he had a split second where he wondered if he should delete it. There weren't a ton of pictures of him online but the internet was full of super sleuths who would be able to dig up a lot on Steve if they were able to find a connection and get his name. Dustin hadn't even known he and Eddie were a thing until the tabloids picked it up.

But when replies came, they all shared a similar sentiment. 'Lying for clout is still lying'. Most didn't believe he knew Eddie's new arm candy in real life. And maybe it was better that way. But still, he could talk to the rest of the gang about it because holy shit Steve was dating a celebrity. The texting in their group chat (the one without their older siblings because they didn't want any lectures) had been going crazy since the news broke.

Dustin: How long until we can start posting embarrassing photos of Steve for maximum impact?

Lucas: We gotta wait until they publish his name

Mike: You think Eddie's really gonna announce theyre dating?

Dustin: Only if he's gonna make an honest man out of Steve

Will: But what if it's just a fling? Did Steve tell anyone about this?

Max: Betcha he told robin

El: I'm going to post the one from when he took us to Comic Con.

Lucas: That's not an embarrassing pic

Will: Yeah it was objectively awesome

El: I know. That is why I want to post it :)

--------------------

Eddie could tell when he himself was done with his rut. He wasn't filled with an all consuming need to impregnate Steve. The thought was still attractive, but he could allot some brain power to other things now. Like the madhouse surrounding his love life that was going on. Eddie had never really announced it when he was dating. Then again, the last couple of times it had been with fellow famous people.

Media outlets knew them well and were able to craft their stories easily. He got asked about them during interviews but most of it was public knowledge already. This was the first time since making it big that he'd been seen with someone like Steve. The next time he made an appearance he was going to be asked about him. And there was no way he could just say 'he's my sugar baby, we fuck and then I buy him things'. Even if that was true on paper, it wasn't how Eddie really felt.

Steve was sitting on the couch, gazing intensely on his phone and Eddie was sure it was some discourse about him but when he ventured to look over his shoulder has saw that he was watching a stop motion lego video.

"Interesting entertainment?", he asked, coming around to sit next to him.

"They just make it so smooth, I don't understand", Steve said in awe.

"I was wondering if we could talk about the-", Eddie cleared his throat, "about the, you know, what people are saying."

"Yeah sure", Steve paused the video and put his phone down.

"So, we're gonna move the tour soon", Eddie started. "And at some point, like in the next week, I'll probably be expected to make some kind of statement."

Steve nodded, eyes full of sincerity and understanding and Eddie couldn't take that pointed at him. He shot up and began pacing around.

"Okay, here was the deal. You're my sugar baby, right?"

"Right", Steve answered with another nod.

"But like, and correct me if I'm wrong, we don't really do the things people normally do in this sort of relationship."

"It's not that we don't do them", Steve watched Eddie move back and forth like a caged animal. "We don't-you don't treat me like a sugar baby."

Eddie froze. "Have I been doing this wrong?"

Steve shook his head. "Eddie you've been fine, great even." He stood up and grabbed Eddie's hands. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better. 'Cause like, from what I've seen, a more, let's say experienced sugar daddy would have just assumed I'd assist with a rut. You assumed I wouldn't."

"I couldn't just put that on you. I know what I'm like during a rut", Eddie looked away sheepishly. "But you can't pin this aaaallll on me sweetheart. You haven't been acting very sugar babyish."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Like you're the expert?"

"I've seen a couple! I know that they're very keen on pointing to whatever catches their fancy and saying 'daddy buy me this'. And I know you have good taste in things. You could also stand to drape yourself over me much more in public. I'm frankly appalled that too many of my fans don't see you as someone important."

Steve blushed at all Eddie was describing and tried to hide behind his hands but since Eddie had them, he kept him from doing so.

"That sounds like...a lot. Are you okay with me being a lot?"

"You're asking a musician that?", Eddie raised a brow.

"I mean like, when I get really...involved with someone", Steve was avoiding the word 'dating', "I can get clingy, and like, really hungry for attention."

"Baby, I just spent a week with my face attached to your pussy. Which, for the record, I would have done even I wasn't under hormonal persuasion." Eddie kissed his knuckles and then breathed in deep. Steve still carried so much of him, even after a shower, and would for a while. In about a week, his scent wouldn't cling to him the way it was now, but for a moment, he could imagine Steve was wholly his.

"When I go out in front of cameras, I..." He wanted to tell them Steve was his omega, that he was officially courting and if the fates saw fit, would make him his mate.

"What?"

"What should I tell them?", Eddie asked.

Steve thought about what people already thought was going on. The world already assumed they were fucking. They didn't really announce that. The only real question was how permanent Steve was. Was he a fling or an actual boyfriend?

"What do you want me to be?", Steve asked in return.

Eddie's heart thumped in his chest. The false answer hung from his lips, ready to go. To keep them in this limbo for as long as he could. But that was no guarantee either. Besides, Eddie really wanted to make a proper den for Steve to make a proper nest. He wanted to take Steve back to his actual home. He wanted to meet this enigmatic Robin.

"I want you to be mine. And I wanna tell the world about it." Eddie knew that was the right response from the way Steve lit up.

Corroded Coffin ☑️@corrodedcoffinitsafishyall

The official Twitter of Corroded Coffin. Stream our new album Darkest Knights. And to the owner of the corrodedcoffinofficial handle, come outside we just wanna talk

corrodedcoffinband.com

150 Following 529k Followers

5 minutes ago Changed the password account again bc some knot-heads never heard of PR - Grant

8 minutes ago Btw his name is Steve and he's my sweetheart

10 minutes ago Post-rut clarity call that seein with my third eye

Eddie Munson ☑️ @ edmunsoncc

This is where I go when they kick me off the band account :(

1 minute ago they took my Stevie D:<

2 minutes ago They can take away my account privileges but they cant take away my Stevie

And the world knows his name! And the tour continues! What will happen as they travel down the east coast!? Stay tuned!

Part 11

Tag Team CLOSED

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie  @sllooney  @starman-jpg  @oxidantdreamboat  @xxbottlecapx   @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast  @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds  @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord  @beckkthewreck  @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @greatwerewolfbeliever @chaosgremlinmunson @blackpanzy @millseyes-world @batxsignalsx @lilpomelito @goosesister @libraryofgage @aresthelostboy @royjaimie4eva @silenzioperso @she-collects-smut @lost-wondering-souls @eddielives1986 @marklee-blackmore

[itsshawtyfellas]

Breaking in

Pairing: Charlie Walker x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, 18+ (mature content such as dom!charlie, sub!reader, dry humping, clit stimulation, oral, praise kink, degradation kink, mask kink, penetration)

A/N: ngl I'm a sucker for all of those charlie as a sub type of fics (I stand by that) but I believe that behind that mask charlie is a whole different person based on his murders. So I decided to write something about it because why not 😈 sit down and enjoy my little sluts (btw my obsession with this man is over the roof by now help) the gif is just to give you a little idea of how it will go further into the fic😉

You didn't know how to feel.

Were you angry? Upset? Scared? Probably all of them.

You just couldn't believe it at first. You refused to believe your sweet, smart and funny boyfriend Charlie could do something like that.

You simply decided to go to Charlie's house after school to surprise him but when you got to his room you saw him taking off his ghostface costume that had droplets of blood in it. You confronted him about it, asking him if he was the one responsible for all the murders in Woodsboro so far and he didn't even bother to deny. He couldn't lie to you, so he admitted it, explaining the truth and reasoning behind it.

You were quiet the entire way back to your house and also inside it. Your mind went back to all the moments you had spent with him; the sweet ones, the sad ones, the intimate ones. As time went by, your thoughts made you realize how real it all was.

It's been only a couple of days since you walked out of his house and you still couldn't stop thinking about it. The rational side of your body kept telling you that you should inform the authorities; that meant reporting your boyfriend would not only make him stay in prison for a few good decades but it would also make you, as his girlfriend, an accomplice of his crimes since you knew the truth. Meanwhile, the emotional side of your body wanted you to hide the whole truth and run back into the kind arms of the love of your life. Whatever your decision was, you couldn't tell anyone about it.

Right as you mind wandered back to reality, you noticed the movie you had put on to distract yourself had ended, so you started to do some chores around your house, since you didn't want to think about it for a little while.

As you finished cleaning the kitchen, you went out for a few minutes to take out the trash, leaving the front door slightly ajar so you could go back in, but suddenly you felt eyes on you and a presence on your back. Turning around to go back inside, you quickly checked your surroundings to make sure you weren't being watched, scared you would be the next kill despite knowing Charlie would never do something to you.

The moment you turned around after closing your door, you came face to face with your boyfriend Charlie; except that he was wearing the ghostface costume and you gussed that he was either coming back from a kill or going for one. For brief seconds, the two of you just stood there in front of each other without saying a word. Every emotion and every thought that you were having and thinking earlier came back rushing to your heart and mind. Your own body was battling against your own, not knowing whether you should run away from him, to him or fight him; so you opted by asking him a simple but stupid question.

"Are you going to hurt me?" He didn't answer, only shaking his head.

"Then why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you." Those were his only words before going quiet again. He could tell you were feeling conflicted but he wasn't going to blame you.

"You could've called me." He took a step closer to you.

"I didn't know if you wanted to talk to me, much less see me."

He took another step towards you but you didn't back away. He kept coming closer and closer until he was right in front of you. Charlie lifted a hand to your face, caressing your cheek, feeling your skin heat up under his touch.

Not only was your skin hot, but your heart was almost popping out of your chest from how gently he was touching you. The way he was touching your face along with the way he was looking at you behind that mask was arousing you, even though you wanted to ignore it.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for putting you through this." His voice, soothing and calm as always, comforted you as he looked at your trembling form.

You had no words. Even after finding out he was the killer – ghostface– he still made you feel warm and fuzzy inside; you shouldn't but you couldn't help yourself, you still loved him and he was still your boyfriend.

"I didn't want you to find out this way, I swear I never meant to put you involved in this." Even though you couldn't see his face, you could still hear the plead in his voice.

"I was involved in all of this ever since you started murdering people knowing you and I were together and I could find out about it at any moment." You said, while stepping away from him, the anger and frustration showing through your voice. Charlie turned his head slightly away from the direction of your eyes knowing how upset you were. "At least show me your face and look at me if you're so sorry."

He was aware of how angry you were, so, like a soldier listening to his commander's orders, he turned his head back to you and brought his hand to his chin to take off his mask, his hair tied into a bun, all while looking into your eyes.

You stared at him; your eyes running all over his face, mostly remaining on his baby blue eyes, as if to remember every single detail of his angelic like features to assure yourself that he was still the same –which he was. If someone told you a few days ago that your boyfriend was the one who committed the murders, you wouldn't believe them and would've laughed in their face, telling them he would never do something like that, for he was far too sweet to kill people in such a brutal way, but right now, as you looked at him, you could only wish it wasn't true.

It didn't stop you though. It didn't stop your mind from reliving all those moments spent with him; it didn't stop your feelings from erupting into the surface everytime you thought of him; it didn't stop your heart from racing whenever you saw him; and it definitely didn't stop you from loving him.

You and Charlie kept eye contact with each other once no other words were exchanged. The silence surrounding your bodies in the living room was loud; you could even hear your light breaths and maybe even your heart ramming against your ribcage.

However, Charlie tried to make another move for the second time that day by walking slowly towards you. The stare in his eyes was so intense the arousal you felt before came back to your body, the tingling sensation lowering to your core. Without thinking, you took a step back as he kept walking towards you until you collided with the wall.

Your breathing got heavier as the air around you felt hot, the arousal only increasing more and more with the way Charlie was staring at you; what you didn't know was that he was doing it on purpose to rile you up. He loved to watch the way your chest rose up and down when he did something like this. It turned him on when he had some kind of control over you since it was unusual for him and when that happened he liked to enjoy it as much as he could.

"Do you still love me?" He asked with uncertainty.

"I don't know if I should." You answered out of spite despite wanting to say yes.

"Do you trust me?"

"I don't know if I should either."

No words were said after that. It wasn't that you didn't trust him or love him –you did, with your soul and life– but you wanted to see how the moment would go and how it would end. Would you lie to him and say you didn't want him anymore? Would you guys break up and never see each other again? Or would you confess your love and trust for him and keep it all a secret? Whatever way that conversation would go, your mind was set on not sending him to the authorities.

You were so distracted thinking about how it would all end, preparing yourself mentally and emotionally, that you didn't even notice Charlie's hand locking itself on your neck, right beneath your jawline, and leaning in to kiss you. Despite getting caught off guard, your body accepted the kiss with an eagerness never felt before.

As the kiss evolved, eventually turning into makeout session, all the doubts you were having before left your mind, the only thing remaining being the love and trust you had for him. A wave of emotions flooded your heart, making its palpitations increase, causing you to pull him closer to your body with your arms encircling around his neck.

To say he was surprised by your reaction was an understatement. Even though the love you had for one another was unconditional, he almost expected you to turn around and go straight to the police, but he was mostly relieved that you didn't. With that, he started to slowly and reluctantly slide his hands down your back, afraid you would stop him but decided to keep going when he felt you holding him even closer. Now feeling more secure and confident, he ran his hands over your waist and to your hips, pulling your pelvis against his when arousal started to rush into his body, going straight to his core.

"Do you want me?" He asked, pausing his actions.

"Yes." You didn't even hesitate to answer his question, the passion you were feeling mixing up with the physical contact only added more fervor into your veins. Right when you were about to carry on with the now heavy makeout session, Charlie stopped you by grabbing your wrist. Looking at him with a confused look in your face, you were about to ask him what was he doing when he suddenly took a step back. When he did this, your mind began to cloud itself with insecurities and second thoughts, in fear that he had regretted his decision; it almost made you prepare yourself for a heartbreak until you saw him kneeling down to grab his mask that he dropped earlier on the floor to put it back on.

"Charlie?" Without answer, he started to walk back to you, your body still pressed against the wall. Even when you couldn't see his face due to the mask, you could feel his eyes on you, watching you like a hawk. It made you feel nervous and a little scared but you kept telling yourself he wouldn't hurt you –after all you trusted him and you wanted him to know that.

Now standing in front of you again, Charlie tilted his head lightly, noticing the way your chest rose up and down due to your heavy breathing, your lips slightly parted and your eyes locked on his –or his mask.

At first, he thought about taking off the costume and let things flow between the two of you like they usually would, but now, as he stands in front you, watching the way your body reacted to him and his actions, he couldn't help but feel a sudden urge to take control, soon overtaken by a feeling of power, something he would mostly feel whenever he wore the ghostface costume for his kills. All of it only turned him on more.

You weren't far behind. If someone walked in on that moment and saw ghostface –or Charlie– in your living room cornering you against the wall, they would immediately think you were being attacked and would call the police –but that wasn't the case as the energy around the room shifted once again as your body heat increased and your heartbeat sped up as Charlie kept staring at you under that mask, causing you to feel just as aroused as he was.

Coming even closer until your bodies were touching, he grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him all over again, his hands then sliding down to your buttcheeks to bring your pelvis towards his to create some sort of friction. Noticing this, you circled your arms around his torso and buried your face in his neck, moving your hips against his clothed erection, while his hands held your ass helping your movements.

Not a single word other than each other's heavy breathing was exchanged as the two of you were humping your hips towards one another, at least not until one of his hands left your butt and you felt his fingertips going over the seam of your pajama pants, teasing you at first to arouse you even more and then going under your panties and to your pussy, using his middle and ring fingers to give you slow and light circles to your stimulated clit.

"C-Charlie..." You panted against his neck. The hand that was still holding your cheek, was brought to your chin, lifting your face from his neck in order to make you look at him, his head slightly tilted in a provoking way.

"What is it? Hmm? Does it feel good?" He asked, amusement oozing out of his voice as he kept touching your pussy.

"Y-Yes, yes, it feels s-so good." You stuttered, as you let your head fall on his shoulder.

"Yes, it does and you wanna know why? Because you're taking it like a good little slut, aren't you?" As he spoke, the words only got stuck in your throat as you felt your orgasm approaching, the only possible answers being the nods of your head and the shifting of your hips as he changed the speed of his fingers, going even faster to help you reach your peak.

"Shhh, I know, I know, there you go." He praised, his voice soft in your ear as the most earth shattering orgasm hit you, making your body tremble in his arms, the sounds of your erratic breathing only getting louder with each after shock, causing your shaking form to look like it just got a short circuit.

Charlie then removed his fingers from your underwear, wiping them on his costume without care and took a step back, giving you a minute to cool off before trying anything else. He was about to ask if you were okay but refrained himself from saying it when you suddenly brought your hands to his ankles, in an attempt to remove his costume, lifting it up and taking it off his body along with his shirt, leaving him with only his mask and jeans. As you were about to unbuckle his belt, Charlie suddenly held your hands, stopping your actions. You glanced up at him perplexed, questioning why would he stop you and wondering if he didn't want you to return the favor when all of a sudden you felt the weight of his palms on your shoulders, gently but firmly pressing on them to push you down on your knees.

"What? Isn't this what you want, hmm?" You could tell he asked it in a rhetoric way, using a taunting and condescending tone and smirking under his mask, whilst stroking your cheek and looking down at you, almost as if telling you you knew what to do. So, with little hesitation and excitement filling your body, you brought your hands to his belt loops, unbuckling them and then unbuttoning his pants, giving little kisses and licks on his firm abs and down his v-line, his hips going forward, towards your mouth as you tugged down his jeans along with his boxer briefs.

"Look at you, pretty little thing getting excited over my cock. You're such a fucking whore, aren't you, baby?" Charlie's words did nothing but arouse you even more, making you feel even more turned on to the point your own wetness was seeping through your panties.

Bringing his pants and boxers down to the middle of his thighs, you took a few seconds to admire him in all his glory, starting with his face –covered by the mask– and going down his naked torso, ending with his fully erected dick, standing long, hard and with a certain girth before grabbing his cock in your hand, kissing his underside and then wrapping your lips around his reddish tip, lightly sucking and swirling your tongue around it while using your hand to stroke him slowly and teasingly to excite him even more. You kept doing this for a while before Charlie got tired of your teasing and put a hand on the back of your upper neck and brought your head forward, taking off your hand so you could bob your head easily.

"Fuck, you're doing so good, it's like you were made to suck dick, weren't you? Maybe that's why you always look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, right? What would everyone say if they saw you right now on your knees in front of the so known ghostface, sucking him off like the dirty fucking slut you are, hmm? You'd love that, wouldn't you, baby?"

Your boyfriend's choice of words only made you move your head even faster, trying to make him reach his orgasm with his hand still at the back of your neck controlling your movements. All you could hear were his groans along with his irregular breathing as he rutted his hips against your mouth, feeling you squeeze your lips around him and running your tongue on the underside as he came and let the milky white substance fill the inside of your cheeks, watching you swallow it all.

As soon as he finished, Charlie grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet, your knees sore from being on the floor for too long, and, without saying a single word, bended your over the arm of your couch and pulled your pajama pants down, looking at the wetness of your pussy.

"God, you're so fucking wet, is this from sucking me off? Yeah? Do you want me to fuck you? Will you be a good girl and let me fuck you? Answer me or I'll make you fuck my shoe instead of me." He said, running his middle finger up and down your pussy, circling your clit every once in a while.

"Yes, y-yes, please fuck me, please..." You panted.

He didn't answer, simply pushing your head down and lifted your hips a little, making you arch your back, and started to rub the tip of his dick on your clitoris and then at your entrance, sliding in slowly to let you adjust to him before starting to move in a slow pace, soon speeding up the rhythm of his thrusts while paying attention to your light moans.

"Fucking hell, you're such a fucking whore, fucking a murderer in your living room when no one knows who and where he is, but you love it, don't you, darling?" The way Charlie was talking only added more fire to your veins and skin, making you try and push your hips back a little to meet his thrusts, when you felt his hands gripping your thighs and sliding up and around your hips, adding more force into his thrusts, only to bring a hand to the front of your body, towards your pussy, stroking your clit to bring you to the edge.

The house was so quiet that the sounds of skin slapping, erratic breathing, grunts and moans seemed loud on your ears but it only made the two of you more excited.

"Are you gonna cum? You want me to fill you up and stuff your pretty little pussy with my cum? Is that what you want? Cum for me then, c'mon, love, you can do it, cum." Charlie panted, his voice slightly baffled by the mask that he was still wearing.

"C-Cumming, cumming –fuck– I'm cumming..." You stuttered as you felt your legs starting to shake, feeling an orgasm coming to hit you body as you shivered, it being as strong and intense as an earthquake, feeling the spurts of cum painting the walls of your pussy, as Charlie came inside you.

After taking a few minutes to gather your breaths, Charlie pulled out of you and used his shirt to clean you up and pull up your pants after taking off his mask and buttoning his jeans. The two of you were staring at each other's eyes in silence before he decided to speak.

"I'm sorry. I really am." Those were his only words before looking at the floor, not being able to look you in the eye.

"It's okay, I love you and I still trust you with my life, and even when I shouldn't I won't report you."

"Thank you, I love you so much." Nothing else was said afterwards as you locked yourselves in a passionate kiss.

-----------------------

A/N: Jesus fucking christ this took me DAYS but tbh I'm just happy that it's already done😁 well I just hope that you guys enjoy the reading🤭