#i passed by and up to the break room right before shit went down apparently

[ambersky0319]

also untelated but still work related

today was

interesting

[wish-i-were-heather]

A FOOL FOR YOU ⤵ GRAYSON HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 2187 words, no use of y/n (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5)

STORY: drunk grayson accidentally pins you against the wall. he's A mess.

WARNINGS: none really, just grayson being a bad drunk flirt

A/N: THIS IS A REPOST OF MY OWN FIC!!! I'm posting it again because my account got deleted, but I still want to keep all my fics on my blog. Thanks to everyone for helping me get this all back.

Grayson Davenport Hawthorne didn’t drink.

He would never willingly put himself into a position where he wasn’t in the right state of mind. It could result in complete humiliation. One sip too many and he was at risk of turning into a stumbling, slurring mess that blurted whatever was on his mind. At least that’s how Jameson was when he was drunk, and Grayson did not want to find out if he was any different. Making a fool of himself was not something he was exactly fond of.

That was his brother’s job.

So, whenever the four brothers went out, he never drank. Nash would always insist on being the driver, but in the end he would have just a little too much and Grayson would take them home. He never minded; it was easier to deal with someone else’s lack of sobriety rather than his own.

Apparently, Xander had been trying to get ahold of Grayson for twenty minutes now. That’s what he told you when he called you.

“He’s not answering my texts,” Xander complained.

“Have you tried getting up and going to him?” You offered.

“Ew, no, that’s too far. The house is too big.”

You laughed. “But you expect him to walk over to you?”

“Or you walk over to him,” he said nonchalantly. “I don't mind. 

With an amused sigh, you stood up and began the not-so-long journey to Grayson’s wing. “Fine, fine, I’m going. What do I get for helping?”

“Hmm,” Xander mused. “A smile.”

“A smile, how generous.”

“From the one and only Xander Hawthorne, I know. Now tell Gray to get his ass over here.” 

~~

As you made your way up the stairs, you passed a hallway, down which you briefly glanced. You did a double take when you realized Xander was casually sprawled across a lounge sofa at the end of it, staring at something on his phone screen. You raised your eyebrow at him; he’d been closer to Grayson than you. 

He glanced up and noticed you making a face at him, and smiled. 

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. 

Xander was most definitely being dramatic. It took maybe three minutes at the very most to reach where you expected Grayson to be. You noticed the door to his room was open just a bit, a sliver of light coming from inside. But not enough for you to see him.

Since it was partially open, you knocked on the exposed door frame instead. You didn’t want to just barge in, but after thirty seconds he didn’t give you the go-ahead to enter. You knocked again, and still no response. 

“Grayson?” You called.

No response. 

Finally, you just walked in. “Grayson, Xander want-” You cut yourself off when you saw him.

Grayson Hawthorne was standing in the middle of the room, facing away from you and the door. But that wasn’t the problem, no. He was standing shirtless, his hands fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants, having just put them on. 

Sweatpants?

Who was this man and what did he do to Grayson?

“Ah, shit- sorry, sorry-” you said quickly, turning away and starting to leave. This was clearly not a good time. But you heard a stumbling sound from behind you and the sound of something breaking, and you had to turn back around to make sure he was okay.

Grayson was leaning one arm against his desk, staring at the ground where a vase had fallen. 

“Oops.” 

He kept staring at it, then stepping forward and almost placing his bare foot on the broken glass before apparently deciding that was a bad idea, and stepping away from the shards. 

He stumbled forward and barely steadied himself and finally glanced back at you. His eyes were unfocused, his normally meticulously done hair wet and completely disheveled. And he was still wearing only a pair of sweatpants.

Which he hadn’t managed to tie correctly, so they hung loosely on his hips, almost too low-

You tore your gaze away from his sweats and looked back up at his face. He kept a completely straight expression as the two of you made eye contact. When he spoke, however, he sounded the complete opposite.

“Hi.”

His voice cracked like a twelve year old’s.

Before you could respond, he continued. “Where are you going?”

You looked back down at the floor in front of you as he made another attempt to step closer.  “I- uh…” you felt awkward looking at him when he was half-naked.

But then again, whatever was wrong with him was probably more important. 

Plus, he didn’t seem to care.

“Xander wanted me to get you. He said he texted you but you didn’t respond,” you explained hastily, turning around to leave. “But you’re busy, so I guess just, uh, go find him later.”

“I was swimming,” he blurted. You froze and looked back again, staring at him, confused. What the hell had happened to him?

“Yeah, I- I can tell. Your hair’s wet.”

Grayson ran a hand through his hair as if just realizing that. “Oh, it is.”

You look at a tentative step forward. “Grayson, are you alright?”

“Mhm, yeah, I’m alright, I’m fine.” The words were muttered mindlessly, meaninglessly.

Grayson stepped closer to you again, staring down at you. And that’s when you caught it- the faint smell of alcohol on his breath. That might’ve explained his strange behavior, but the fact that he was drinking in the first place only raised more questions. 

“I- Grayson, are you drunk?”

“What?” He explained, his hand dramatically going up to his chest- his bare chest. “No, no, I don’t- I don’t get drunk. That’s what Jamie does, not me. I’m not drunk.”

There was a brief pause.

And then he hiccuped. 

“Maybe a little.”

You scoffed, a little. Yeah right. He was a mess. You wanted to ask him what had happened. why he’d been drinking, for how long- had he been swimming drunk? But you knew that he was too out of it to give you a proper answer. So instead you decided to help him, to spare at least what was left of his dignity. 

Xander would have to wait.

“Here, Grayson,” you began. “You need to lie down.”

“No I don’t, I can stand up perfectly good,” he insisted. But his balance was as poor as his grammar and he once again stumbled forward, this time reaching out to you to prevent his fall.

Grayson’s hands grabbed onto your shoulders and he was now a lot closer to you than you’d intended for him to be. He was leaning forward, but because of his height his face was just above your eye level. 

You tried to grab his wrists and back up, failing to fight the heat rising in your face. “Gray, you really need-”

As you stepped back, he followed, and suddenly your back hit the wall. Grayson was still standing awkwardly over you, using you to hold himself up, when his hands slipped off your shoulders. Onto the wall behind you.

Grayson Hawthorne was leaning against the wall with both hands, accidentally pinning you between them.

But he didn’t seem to notice.

He stared at you, tilting his head curiously. “Hi,” he said again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Or move, for that matter. 

Grayson stared down at you and you really had no choice but to look back up at him. His arms kept you essentially trapped against the wall, but you doubted he realized what he was doing. He was drunk. But the fact that he was blissfully unaware didn’t make your face any less red.

His gray eyes were surprisingly gentle as he looked at you. His hair was still messy, having settled in the position it landed in after he ran his fingers through it. When he spoke, his voice was slow. 

“I- I think-” he was interrupted by a hiccup. “That you…  you have a very nice face.”

That’s not the direction you thought he was going. “Thank you, but you should really-”

“Can I have it?”

You stared incredulously at him. “What?”

“I want it.”

“You can’t have my face, Grayson.”

He frowned. “Oh.”

Before you could respond, he promptly reached his arms around your neck, clingling loosely to you like a koala, and leaned down closer. His weight almost brought you down with him. “You need to let go,” you told him gently.

“But I like it here,” he whined. “It’s cozy.”

“You’re making a fool of yourself. You couldn’t help but chuckle, though you were still struggling to hold him up.

“But I’m a fool for you.”

You choked on your own spit and had to cough for a moment before responding.

“That was surprisingly poetic. Now get off me.”

With just a gentle push, Grayson stumbled back. But you had to grab his arm again to keep him from accidentally stepping on the broken vase that was still on the ground. 

Your mind was spinning; so much was happening all at one: Grayson Hawthorne was shirtless and drunk, stumbling all over the place, and you’d just managed to escape him pinning you against the wall. Intentional or not, it had your heart pounding.

Not necessarily in a bad way?

“Okay, okay,” you told him, still having to hold him up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

But Grayson protested. “No, no bed. I don’t wanna sleep.”

“You don’t have to sleep, but please, at least sit down.”

“Why?” He looked genuinely confused, and as annoying as he was, it was adorable.

“Because you’re a big clumsy mess right now, and you’re either going to hurt yourself or me.”

Grayson’s expression softened and he leaned down so that he was at your level. He reached his hand out and cupped your face. “I would never hurt you,” he whispered, sounding offended that you would even mention it. “Never.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his sincerity, even if he was drunk. “I know, Grayson, but you’re not exactly yourself right now.” You forced yourself to bring his hand back down to his side. 

He didn’t really have any choice after that because you began to drag him over to his bed, and his legs were too wobbly to resist. You managed to get him to sit down, and he let himself collapse backwards. You had to help move his legs all the way onto the bed.

As you did, Grayson looked up at you with a lopsided grin. “You’re nice,” he said bluntly. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Grayson,” you told him honestly. “Just… try to relax. Maybe put on a shirt?”

He looked down, as if just now realizing that his top half had been exposed the entire conversation. “Nah, it’s too hot.”

“Yeah, but you don’t see me walking around without a shirt,” you countered.

Grayson shrugged, his eyelids drooping. “You can take it off if you have to.”

You rolled your eyes, your cheeks growing impossibly warmer. As unlike himself as it was, you found drunk Grayson Hawthorne to be pretty endearing. But he would absolutely despise you if you told him that in the morning, so you decided to let him be. 

Thankfully, there was no more arguing. Now that he was laying down, Grayson was already half asleep, still smiling like an idiot. Before leaving, you gently brushed a strand of wet hair out of his face with your hand. 

~~

Xander feigned disappointment when you returned without his brother.

“You’re not Grayson.”

“No,” you chuckled. “I’m not.”

He looked at you impatiently, but you could tell whatever he needed Grayson for wasn’t that big of a deal, because he wasn’t upset. “Where is he?”

“Drunk.”

Xander completely froze as he registered your words. He stared at you with wide eyes like he was waiting for you to say you were just kidding. But you didn’t, of course, because it was the truth. “You’ve got to be faxing kidding me.”

“What?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he shook his head. “Max is rubbing off on me. But you’re trying to tell me Grayson is drunk?” 

“And now passed out in his bed,” you confirmed. “Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Xander practically jumped up. “Oh, I most definitely will! Maybe I can wake him up and get him to say something stupid, and then I can-” He cut himself off and pulled out his phone. Before you could try to save Grayson’s dignity, he was off.

You watched as Xander ran off to tease Grayson, you found yourself smiling. Even if he was drunk, there was no denying the warmth that had spread through you when he’d cupped your face and whispered those slurred but genuine words.

Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Grayson Hawthorne than met the eye, more than his grumpy, serious facade. And maybe, just maybe, you liked what you were discovering. 

But that was a problem for future you and hungover Grayson. 

For now, you let the moment play over in your mind, wondering if he really meant what he said.

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather

[lil-elle]

Him <3

group: xikers

pair: seeun x fem!reader

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, crushes

word count: 863

content: fluff 🥹🩷 (as always, yk me), a few lil swears

a/n: felt bad being so ia, so I quickly finished up this draft! Enjoy!!

Your soft sobs were suddenly caught in your throat after hearing a soft “Y/n?” being called through the door to your room. You hurriedly rubbed your sweater sleeve over your tear stained cheeks just in time for the door to crack open and Seeun to peek his head in.

“H-Hey, why’re you here?” You squeaked out, trying to sound as normal as possible. Not normal sounding enough, apparently, as the tall boy quickly rushed over to sit beside you on the bed.

“I don't think you're in a space to be asking questions…” he chuckled softly, his arm snaking around your shoulder to pull you gently against him, “...why the waterworks?” You forced out a giggle, resting a hand against your best friend's chest and looking up at his surprisingly worried expression.

“It's nothing, really…” He sighed as you dropped your head again, his hand now gently rubbing up and down your arm as a way to comfort you.

“It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it…but I'm staying right here…” His voice was so gentle, and yet it pierced so deeply into your heart that you felt the painful sting of tears in your eyes once again. His grip on your shoulder tightened as you suddenly choked back a sob.

“I-I just don't get it…” You sobbed, and he leaned forward a little to get a glimpse at your face, using his other hand to gently swipe some hair away from your forehead and behind your ear. “W-Why…”

“Why what…?” He asked, his voice laced with a genuine worry that had your heart breaking and your stomach doing somersaults simultaneously.

You responded with silence, a few seconds passing before his voice cut through, a little lower and more serious this time.

“Is this about him again?”

Him. The word you always used to refer to your crush when you were ranting to Seeun. A boy that Seeun knew all about from the way you'd fawn over him, fangirl over him, and even complain about him. Little did Seeun know that this him in question that he'd give you advice for and talk shit about sometimes…was himself.

You nodded slowly and Seeun’s grip on you tightened slightly as he clicked his tongue.

“That ass. I swear y/n, how many times does he have to make you cry like this for you to see he's not worth it?”

Your glossy, puffy, red eyes meet his and you speak up, a slight crack to your words.

“That's the problem, though…He is worth it. He's beyond worth it. He keeps reminding me why I fell for him in the first place even if he doesn't realise it…”

Your gaze was almost burning holes into his as you spoke, his deep brown eyes reflecting back at you with complicated emotions that you couldn't quite place.

“He's just…” your eyes scanned over the boy's face in front of you, his every feature showing love and care for you that made your heart race every time, “...too dense to realise my feelings for him.”

Seeun sighed, his hand rubbing up and down your arm comfortingly.

“He's stupid. The most perfect girl is right in front of him, screaming for him to notice her, and he does nothing.”

You chuckle wryly, sighing almost exhaustedly.

“...You're right…you are stupid…”

“Huh…?”

You drop your head in your hands, giggling weakly as your face heats up red.

“You're so stupid, Park Seeun…”

“W-What? Why me?” He asked confusedly. You lifted your head to look at him, a bitter-sweet smile on your face.

“You just said it yourself.”

His expression only grew more perplexed as you spoke.

“I-I said he was stupid.” He stated, thinking that you must've heard him incorrectly.

“Yup, I know. And yes…you are.”

You watched as the gears in his began to turn, his confused eyes slowly turning to those of realisation and fluster.

“O-Oh. Yeah. You're right, I am.” You couldn't help but notice the way his ears almost immediately went bright red, making your grin widen. You burst into laughter, your body leaning into his, making his other arm wrap around you and cradle you.

“I can't believe the amount of times you called yourself a dumbass without any idea…” You laughed, making him swat your arm playfully.

��Please forget everything I've ever said to you about him. Pretty please.” He leaned closer, nuzzling his forehead against your hair.

“Ha! Not a chance.” You responded, earning a chuckle from him in his deep, quiet voice right above you that reverberated through you and made your stomach twist into knots.

“When I gain super powers and learn how to erase people's memories, you'll be my first victim.”

You giggle wildly, snuggling even closer to him and earning another adoring chuckle from him. His arms tightened around you before pulling you back to sink into the mattress together, forcing another laugh from the both of you as you tangled together in a playful and shy fit of giggles. You felt like a whole weight had been lifted off your chest and you knew you'd never feel as happy as you do anywhere else bit in his arms like that.

-

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAGLIST: @chocoeon @hyunukitty @cake1box @chiiyuuvv @shortnstupid @dogyunslover

[starpirateee]

After seeing your Dan and Donna hcs I honestly wanna see a drabble with the concept of the relationship being polled and debated if you haven't already because that's just hilarious

That is absolutely hilarious, it would be my absolute pleasure!!

Donna arrived in the green room late. That wasn't entirely unusual; she came from further and she was in the habit of collecting coffee for herself and Dan on the way in. This time around, there was a telling grin on her face, that made Dan raise an eyebrow curiously. "you're looking... Awake. What is it?"

"Does it have to be anything?" She answered, taking his coffee from the cardboard holder and passing it off to him.

"Well, no..." he answered as his fingers laced around the cup, "but nobody's ever this alive at," he checked his watch, "5:40 in the morning."

"Okay, okay, you got me there. They're at it again!"

"Huh?" It took him a moment to compute what that meant, but really, Donna didn't have to elaborate on it. This was the third time someone had tried to host an online poll to decide "once and for all" whether he and Donna were really in a relationship or not. They'd been co-workers for years, and someone had once said that the most telling sign was that he looked at her like she'd hung the moon, which was near enough true as far as those things went.

Donna inspected her engagement ring while Dan chuckled to himself, twisting it one way and then the other. She didn't have to live so far away for long. As soon as the two of them could find a spare weekend, she was going to up sticks and move in with him. Frankly, she couldn't wait for that day to come, whenever that would be.

"What's the verdict so far?" Dan asked, drawing her back into the moment. "Do they think we're together or not?"

"You remember the one from the first poll who was absolutely convinced we were divorced?"

"Oh yeah?"

"They're back. We're still divorced, apparently."

Dan laughed. Younger people got divorced, sure, but he was barely into his thirties, and that barely seemed like enough time to have experienced life, let alone been married and divorced. "Before we even get married? Where's the fun in that?"

"You should see how many people have told them how wrong they are... You wouldn't expect this much detail from a university dissertation!"

That only made him laugh harder, through the sheer force of thinking about what the comment section of that poll actually looked like.

They were interrupted by a swift knock on the door, and a runner poked her head through as Dan took a lengthy sip of his coffee.

"Morning! Just so you know, you're on in fifteen!"

"Thanks, Ellen." Donna turned to her with a smile, and then before she could leave, she added, "is Dave here yet?"

"Media Dave or lighting Dave?"

"Media Dave."

"He just got here. Why?"

Donna tried to keep herself from laughing. "Could you tell him to look at the polls and come by, if he can?"

Just like Dan, Ellen didn't have to think too much about it either. Everyone at the Hatchetfield news station knew about the time-honored tradition of the internet trying to decide whether or not Dan and Donna were together. Some of them voted, and reading the comments in the break room had become something of a passion among the crew. She nodded dutifully, and the news anchors hears her laughing as she disappeared down the corridor.

"Fifteen minutes," Donna took a sip of her own coffee. "How are we supposed to go about without knowing whether they think we're married! I need to know, Dan!"

"What d'you think, Donna? Do you think the reporters for the morning news are together? Apart? What's their deal?" Dan teased, leaning back against the couch and trying not to let that shit eating grin take over.

"I dunno, Dan, but there's something going on there, right?"

"Hmmm, no I think the divorce guy is onto something..."

Dave from media came running down the corridor, and Dan and Donna heard him try to stifle a laugh as he opened the door to the green room. "Mornin'... Ellen said you wanted to know what the people thought?"

"You already know what this is about," Dan smirked, a knowing raise of the eyebrows to follow. "And I'm guessing you've already seen it?"

"Seen it, Dan? I've been following it all morning!"

"Where's it at right now?"

"38 on you guys are separated, the other 62 on some kind of relationship... I swear, last time someone did this they all got convinced you were exes?"

"They did," Donna laughed, "but it's way funnier if they can't make their minds up! You couldn't... Vote for us while we're on air, could you?"

Donna had been known to participate too. The crew knew it, but nobody else did. Normally, she picked whichever side was winning and let the results speak for themselves. When people found out the first time— when Donna had been among the masses that thought they were together— Hatchetfield's social media scene went crazy. She told Dan she wanted to mess with them, but then she'd asked him out on their first date, and the rest was history.

Dave perked a little, a smile growing on his face. "What's your stance this time?"

"I think Dan's onto something with the whole divorced thing....."

[starlight-shades]

Called Home to the Depths of the Forest Ch. 10

• summary – Simon and Johnny talk.

• rating – M

• wordcount – 1.3k

• warnings – mentions of previous character deaths, corrupt cop

• This is my first fanfic, so please let me know if there's anything I forgot to tag. Feedback is welcome and encouraged

Read on Ao3

Ch 1. Ch. 9 Ch. 11

“I didn’t think they had like actual cells anymore, I thought they’d all just be rooms,” Johnny mused. 

They sat on the floor with their backs to the wall of what appeared to be the only cell in the building. There wasn’t enough crime to warrant a second one, apparently. 

The concrete was cold beneath him.

“What did they charge you with?” Ghost asked.

“Murder. The hunters.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Is this the part where I ask ‘What are you in for?’” Johnny said, using one of the worst American accents he had ever heard.

Simon hummed, a small smile playing at his lips. “Good, old-fashioned vandalism.”

Johnny grinned. “Threw a fit to come see me. So you do like me?” 

“Oh…” He wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Johnny’s face fall. 

“Sorry, I know you want to be responsible…” he said the word like it tasted bitter.

“John…”

“It’s okay, Si…”

The tension in the air left him feeling adrift. Simon knew what the right decision was, but he had felt like shit ever since breaking things off with Johnny. If he had made the “right” decision, why did it still feel like he had cut out his own heart?

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Johnny jolted, as if startled, looking back at Simon with a bewildered look on his face.

“What? Why?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he confessed. Even as he apologized, he couldn’t look him in the eye. His gaze traced ever silver-kissed scar that criss-crossed his hands. 

“Oh, Simon,” Johnny breathed, leaning his head back against the wall. He sounded resigned. 

Minutes passed and the silence grew thicker and thicker between them. Simon felt it eating away at him. He should say something. He needed to say something. What would he say? How could he bridge the gap between them?

“Why was the strawberry crying?” Johnny asked suddenly.

“Why?”

“Because, he was in a jam.”

It wasn’t a laugh so much as it was a sharp exhale, but it was enough to break the tension.

“That was awful,” Simon groused. 

“Yeah…” He dragged his hands down his face, speaking into his hands more than to Simon. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

They were sat next to each other, about a foot or so from each other. Not enough space that he couldn’t reach out and touch him. Simon wanted to, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed anymore. 

“I…” he started. Sighing, he started again. “I know. I was too harsh. Didn’t take enough time to properly think.”

When Johnny looked at him again, there were tears in his eye despite the small smile on his lips. Simon wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to fool.

“No, Si. I was stupid. Put us at risk, like you said.”

In that moment, Simon would have given anything to go back and do it all again. He would have waited until he wasn’t angry to react, would have had an actual discussion with Johnny rather than whatever one-sided thing they had had before. Or even before Soap went out, he would have stopped him from leaving that night. They would have waited to cool off before talking it out and spending the night just them and the pups. Instead, he was left once again with the distinct feeling that the life he wanted was just out of reach. 

Only a foot away, but that foot was somehow leagues all the same.

“John…” he murmured. Simon didn’t know how to make this right. His gaze flickered down to Johnny’s hand when he set it back down on the floor. 

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed it. It was warm. The cold of the cell hadn’t leeched all the sun from Johnny, it couldn’t. Simon looked back up and was startled at the blue of his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he said, dropping his hand as fast as he could. They couldn’t bait Johnny’s wolf. Not here. 

But Johnny snapped his hand back just as quickly, bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to Simon’s palm. He held it tightly to his heart, twining their fingers together. 

“I love you, Si,” he confessed, holding up his free hand when Simon started to speak. “I don’t expect you to say it back. I don’t expect anything from you, I just needed you to know. No matter what happens, I love you, Simon Riley.”

“Johnny—“ he couldn’t finish his thought because Johnny started crying in earnest. 

“Didn’t think you’d ever call me that again,” he sniffed. 

“Oh, Johnny…”

There was no hesitation this time when Simon gathered him into his arms, holding him tight. His own cheeks were suspiciously damp as he pulled the smaller man into his lap. They held each other like it was their only lifeline. Johnny buried his face in Simon’s neck, nuzzling as close as he could. Simon gathered as much of him in his arms as he could. 

“I love you too,” he whispered into the skin he could reach. “I just… I can’t do it again. The drinking and the fighting. I need to be able to count on you.”

Johnny pulled back to look him in the eye. “I’ll show you,” he promised, “you can count on me.”

Simon studied his face. If it were just them, he wouldn’t have a problem believing him, but he had Duncan and Ailsa to think about as well. It wouldn’t just be him getting hurt if Johnny couldn’t keep his promise. 

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by the entrance of D.C. Collins. 

The look on his face was sour to say the least. He glared daggers at them as he took a comically large key ring to unlock the door to the cell. 

“It looks like you’re both free to go,” he spat. 

They rose to stand, locking eyes before looking back at Collins who couldn’t snarl another word at them before they were joined by an exhausted-looking middle-aged woman. 

Kate Laswell had her sandy hair tied back in a loose ponytail, streaks of grey shot through. Simon was somehow surprised to see that the lines on her face had gotten deeper in the years since they had seen each other. Even so, she was still the unbending force of nature he remembered. 

“All charges have been dropped, boys. Let’s go,” she declared.

“She’s a Yank!” Johnny laughed as they followed her out. 

“And she’s the reason you’re free, so have some manners,” she scolded, but Simon could see the glint of humor in her eyes.

They passed through the police station with no further incident. He could feel Collins’ glare on his back, but the other officers didn’t seem to bothered to see them go. 

As soon as they were in the parking lot, she turned to look at Simon.

“Come here, let me take a look at my boy” she said, reaching out to take his face in her hands.

“Kate, you’re only a few years older than me,” he protested rather half-heartedly, allowing her to cup his cheeks in her palms.

“You’re still my boy. Jessie sends her love. She was upset you had children and didn’t tell her. Speaking of which, they are so perfect, Simon.”

The unwavering professional from inside the police station was gone, leaving a much softer woman that he had only seen glimpses of, most frequently when she was around her wife. 

“You look good,” she murmured, finally releasing him. “Having a pack suits you.”

“I’ve been doing good,” he reassured her. 

She hummed, turning to look at Johnny who had been staring between them in bewilderment. 

“John tells me good things about you, Soap.”

“Aye, ma’am, I try my best.” Johnny held himself stiffly, he stood like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with his body. 

“At ease,” she chuckled. Pulling a set of car keys out of her pocket, she nodded to Simon. “I’ll see you back at your place? We can debrief there.” 

He nodded. 

They watched as Kate drove off. 

Turning to look at him, Simon slid his hand into Johnny’s. 

“Let’s go home.”

[trashboatprince]

i dont know if it counts as monsters but i have a soft spot for zombies if you can do anything with that

Hmmm, I consider zombies a type of monster in their own right! Not sure if I can do a romance between a human and a zombie, but I'm more than happy to write about the romance between two humans in a zombie apocalypse! :D

Warning: zombies, injuries (nothing serious)

On with the fic!

--

"Everything alright over there, angel?" Crowley asked, having heard something crash and then a long, too long, silent pause before hearing a soft 'fuck'.

"I'm... peachy, dear boy." Aziraphale spoke and Crowley approached from where he had been searching through the shelves of the abandoned shop for food.

He found Aziraphale on the ground, a number of cans scattered around him, and a large puddle was on the ground. Water dripped from the a hole in the ceiling, clearly the cause of the puddle from the rain outside. "You need help?"

"I'm sure I've got... oof!" Aziraphale winced as he attempted to get up, sitting back down with a hiss as he rubbed at his back. "Landed right on my back, not... not fun."

"Here, I've got-" Crowley started, before hearing banging from somewhere on the other side of the shop.

They both tensed up and listened quietly. The store was silent outside of the rain, and the faint sounds of moaning and screeching.

"It shouldn't have been that loud..." Aziraphale whispered as Crowley helped him to his feet.

"Well, this whole street's as quiet as... well... somethin' that's quiet."

"Like a grave..."

"Morbid, angel." Crowley tisked and dusted the former bookseller off. "We barricaded the doors here, there's no way they can get in. As long as we stay outta sight, they won't bother with us."

"I know, I know." Aziraphale sighed, wincing again as he bent to pick up his fallen pack, slipping the book that had fallen out into it.

Crowley frowned and worked to grab a few of the cans, left behind because of the panic of the past few weeks. Zombies, who would've thought? Many had fled, gone off to the continent, but too many were left behind.

Like himself. Like Aziraphale.

They had only just met before all of this shit went down, had been on a few dates, and had been in the middle of a lovely meal at the Ritz before quarantine was placed on the whole of the UK.

It was like something from 28 Days Later, and was shockingly still kept secluded to the island. Anyone who escaped was placed in immediate quarantine and Crowley found out that they were not to be released until a cure was found. He didn't know if a cure had been found, they lost internet connection a while back.

Aziraphale had stuck with Crowley through this whole thing, and Crowley appreciated it, loved it, in fact. As scary as being stuck on an island full of terrified and crazed survivors along with infected, fleshing eating people, it was nice that the situation allowed him and Aziraphale to bond and... well... become a couple. "Think we'll be safe in here until they pass?" Aziraphale frowned, moving towards the back of the store, where they were as far from the blocked-off front doors as possible.

"Completely." Crowley said with confidence, though inside he was still on high alert, hand at the ready on his tire iron. A gun would be nice, but it was too loud, and he didn't know how to fire one. The tire iron was shockingly useful and a hell of a head breaker.

Aziraphale was armed with a flipping swore, apparently he was classically trained or something, and was excellent with it. Crowley never voiced it, but there was something so attractive about seeing his fussy, prissy boyfriend slice a zombie's head clean off.

He followed Aziraphale to the back of the store, where they found the employee break room, left abandoned. It would be perfect to camp here through the storm and for the night.

"At least the power still works here." Crowley commented. "We've even got a microwave, we can have a warm meal! We'll make it a date night!"

Aziraphale laughed as he sat himself down carefully in a chair at a small table. "Heat up some canned soup, enjoy it with a dusty pack of crackers, and top it off with a lovely cup of cocktail fruit?"

Crowley smiled and set some of the food he had grabbed on the counter. "A perfect meal for date night! And you can continue to read to me, we gotta finish off that story, you left it on a cliffhanger."

"Start up that soup and I'll get right on it." Aziraphale said, pulling the book out.

It wasn't the Ritz, it wasn't dancing at one of the nicest dance halls to fit Aziraphale's aesthetic, it wasn't driving around the countryside, but Crowley knew it was still just as wonderful, zombies be damned.

[fangedup]

The first taste

The bitter mixture of chocolate and marijuana assaults your tastebuds, melting over your tongue in such a way that makes your face twist in disgust. It's an odd combination. Overpowering, overwhelming, not sweet enough to your liking, but the boys promised it would take your mind off of things. Things you couldn't necessarily disclose to them, no matter how much they pried. The extent of what you told them had to do with your training, but as far as your... hunger went, you kept that shit locked up tight. You're still figuring it out these days, the tugs at your stomach occuring more frequently, the way your mouth dries up and your muscles tense at random. Like they're anticipating something.

Ten minutes go by since you've eaten that first edible, and nothing.

Another ten minutes, still nothing. You'd begun wondering whether or not you should try another one, but the boys warned you against it.

An hour passes. Your head is light, feels as though it's floating inches above your shoulders. Every time it moves, the room moves with it. Your body tingles, and you watch in sudden fascination as your fingers idly pick at a loose thread sticking out of the knee of your pants. It feels surreal against your fingertips, there and not there, and it probably takes up a good five minutes before something rather large slides onto your thighs.

Andre, to be more exact. One of your closest friends since childhood, bulky and imposing, has taken up the majority of your lap.

"I always knew you had a thing for me," comes the low grumble of your voice, sounding strange and foreign to even yourself, though you don't fail to show off that sly grin. He feels warm against you, warmer still when you slide a hand up his abdomen, fingers creeping beneath the shirt to map out the contours of his abdomen. You happen to know, very well, where each tattoo is, what it is, and when he got it. Why he got it. Drunk, stoned, bad break-up, you know the story behind every single one. Even touched them before, but never like this.

He only grins in response, hooking fingers into the neckline of his shirt and tugging it off to toss it aside unceremoniously.

"Yeah? Just like I knew you wanted to touch me," is his equally cocky response, and he leans in to brush his lips against yours, teeth snagging the lower to tug. "All you had to do was ask."

It continues like this for another minute or so, the curious kisses, curious touches along one another, until he sits back a little.

"I cut my tongue on a soda can," he declares with a psuedo-pout that nearly puts you in hysterics. "Kiss it better?" His mouth opens then, tongue hanging out and, at first, your eyes are drawn to the little metal ball nestled in the center of his tongue. Then, to the cut poised to the right of it. It's stopped bleeding by now, mostly, but you can still see the little irritated line. You wonder if you could make it bleed more.

Instinctively, you lean in and lick a clean line up his tongue, tip of the muscle prodding at the small wound as if to entice it to open up. You don't miss how your dick twitches and, apparently, neither does he, because he's already got a handful of it.

The taste of blood is faint, but present enough that something in you stirs.

You want more.

Your head tucks itself into the crook of his neck and shoulder, mouth latching onto the junction to bite down. It starts off a small bite, tongue dragging over the teeth marks as if to soothe the irritation. But it isn't quite deep enough. So you open wide, sink your teeth down further and further until skin finally gives way, and red bubbles up to the surface of the fresh wound. And the taste of it has you burning. You swallow once, eyes rolling when the warmth of it slides down your throat.

When you pull back to observe your work, saliva stringing from skin to lips, you're struck with an unfamiliar sensation.

It's pretty. You want to cover him in these marks, watch as blood spills from every wound -- wanna bend down and swallow every drop that escapes, sink your teeth deeper in until they reach bone--

"Shit, that hurt, man, you tryna eat me?"

It pulls you from your hazy, muddled thoughts enough that you suddenly feel sober. Sober enough to shove him off of your lap.

"Fuck, I'm sorry--" ah, but the bile is rising in your throat, mouth watering with the need to vomit, and you barely even throw him a second glance before staggering your way to the bathroom; and promptly emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

[casspurrjoybell-32]

All It Took Was One Look - Chapter 32a

*Warning Adult Content*

Aiden

"Move," Brett said as I was shoved roughly into the corner of the wall. He walked passed me down the hall and my head cracked against it hard.

"Fuck," I hissed putting my palm on the soon to be bump.

His retreating chuckle vanished when he closed his door.

I took my hand away from my head to see blood and to freak out.

Rushing to the bathroom I flipped the lights on and ran to the mirror.

There was a huge gash with blood running down into my eye.

"Shit," I cursed turning the water faucet on and washed the blood from my face but the blood wouldn't stop.

"Aiden," I heard mom call me from down stairs.

Quickly I grabbed a wash towel and pressed it to the wound.

"Aiden?" she called again, I heard her footsteps coming up the stairs,

"What are you doing?" her eyes widened when she saw me and rushed in the bathroom taking the towel away.

"Oh my God, Aiden," she exclaimed and I put a fake smile on my face to ease her worry.

"It's nothing mom I just tripped," I lied but her face was full of concern.

"Oh baby."

She reached in to the cabinet and took out the first aid kit.

"Here, sit. Let me do this," she ordered tearing open a disinfectant wipe.

I jerked back at the sting.

"Aiden, you've never been so clumsy before," she fussed mainly talking to herself but I shrugged as she worked.

"Everyone has a clumsy moment, mom," I joked.

"Yes but apparently yours are dangerous."

She pulled out a roll of bandages and wrapped them around my head, covering the gash.

It was throbbing bad and hurt like a bitch.

"I guess."

I stood when she was done.

She put the kit back and turned to me.

"You called me earlier. What did you want?" I asked remembering she needed something, her eyes widened in recollection.

"Oh yes. I wanted you to come with me to the shelter."

I instantly cringed.

I don't know what it was about shelters but they made me feel guilty and awkward.

"I-I don't know," I said unsure walking down the stairs unconsciously looking out for Brent.

"Oh come on baby. I don't want to go alone," she pleaded from behind me.

"I always get so depressed when I go to this one and I thought it would be better if I could bring you along with me."

"What kind of shelter?" I asked once we were in the living room.

"It's the domestic violence and abuse shelter."

I froze... I couldn't go there.

It would just be a huge reminder of what I'm going through.

What I just went through not a few minutes ago.

"With that bandage on your head you'll fit right in," she said with a pleading look and I gave her a flat look.

"Are you kidding me, right now? That's not funny mom."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," she sighed, with her head down like a child being lectured.

Letting out a soft chuckle I couldn't say no to my dear old mom like that... then I sighed.

"Fine, I'll go," I reluctantly said and she lifted her head with a huge smile.

"Really? Yay," she squealed pulling me in a huge hug.

'Geez why is my mother so strong?'

"Alright. I've got to breathe here," I struggled to get out.

Letting go, she ran to get her purse and grabbed my hand, dragging me to the door.

"Brett. We're leaving," she yelled before throwing me into the car.

Good thing I was already dressed.

"Alright, were going to be there for an hour or so and help out. There's this woman I always talk to, she just a sweet heart. It breaks my heart when she told me her story. I just wanted to go and kill... never mind." she cleared her throat, giving me a sheepish look.

"But there are kids there that have been through so much. I can't even believe the things they have been through."

She shook her head.

"I couldn't even imagine any of those thing happening to you, Nash and Connie. I mean..." she was going on and on till I shut her out and stared out the window.

I was starting to develop a raging headache as the back of my head began to throb like mad.

My thoughts were brought back to how I got the painful bleeding gash in the first place.

My cousin Brett... I hate him so much.

He just won't stop will he? I bet he gets off on hurting me.

Making my life a living hell and I wanted to punch him in the face so hard till he saw stars but I wasn't that strong.

Ugh... Liam come back... I need you.

The car came to a stop in front of a huge white house with a sign that said 'The Sanctuary'.

My heart was heavy as we got out of the car.

Was this going to be my future soon?

I know they tell you that you need to talk someone in these situations but that is really hard to do when you're scared.

Telling someone means possibly getting into more trouble with them.

The constant fear of that person getting a hold of you somehow or worse, even killed if they were fueled with enough hate for you.

And that could be the case for me, I could die for what I am and that's not just from Brent but anyone who hates gays to the point of killing.

It wasn't an uncommon thing to hear about.

This is why they always say being homosexual makes your life a hell of a lot harder.

But there's nothing I could do about it, this is who I am.

An unexplainable fear washed over me and I suddenly started rethinking about telling Liam about Brent. It would probably only make more problems for me.

"Aiden?" Mom was standing at the door holding the door open while I stood in the middle of the parking lot staring up at the sign. I shook my head.

"Sorry, coming."

Jogging up to her she gave me a small motherly smile.

It warmed me a bit but not enough.

We walked into a large foyer and there was a lady behind a desk against the wall. Mom went over to her,

"Grace, lovely to see you again," the lady said.

"Hey, Susan." Mom greeted.

"I came to help out. I brought my son Aiden with me, this time."

She waved her hand gesturing towards me and Susan looked over at me with a warm smile.

"Hello there," she said to me and I nodded my head.

"Hi."

"He's so cute," she cooed to my mom like I couldn't hear her.

"I know. Right?" Rolling my eyes I began to wander closer to a door less entry way.

I saw people sitting or playing games in what looked to be the living room.

It had I big TV with a game console that a few kids were playing on, I think it was a Wii.

There was a woman sitting by a huge window just staring outside.

Others were reading books or sitting quietly staring into space.

I turned back to my mom as she finished up her conversation.

"Alright Susan, what do you got for me today?" Mom asked.

The woman smiled.

"There's not much to do, we already had helpers this afternoon but if you want. We did laundry today so I guess you can bring up their blankets. Also Jillian's been asking for you, she really likes your company."

Mom nodded.

"Alright we're on it."

Mom took my hand and led me to a huge closet down the hall, full of blankets.

Reaching in, she grabbed a couple and handed them to me.

"All their doors should be open right now so just hand them a blanket or place it on the bed."

Nodding I headed up a flight of stairs noticing that my mom was correct.

All the doors were really open.

Taking a breath I went to the first door, a woman was sitting at a desk writing something.

"Knock, knock," I said because I couldn't really knock with an arm full of blankets.

She snapped her head up.

"Oh," she said timidly.

I gave her a reassuring smile.

"Blanket ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you."

She stood and took the top blanket.

She wouldn't look me in the eyes as she took it, just kept her head down, put the blanket on her bed and went back to her writing.

Frowning I went to the next door and so on.

I was starting to become more and more depressed at each door I stopped by.

A couple doors back was a woman with her two children, they all shared the same bruises on their faces and arms.

I tried to keep a friendly smile on my face but it was quickly fading.

I don't know how the people who work here do this every day?

It's killing me and I've only been her for a few minutes.

The last door was closed so I hesitantly knocked holding the last blanket I had under my arm.

There was no answer.

I knocked again a little louder but still nothing.

I made the assumption that there was no one in so I slowly opened the door.

I was just planned on placing the blanket down at the end of the bed and leave but when I entered... I saw a girl about my age.

She was sitting on her bed staring at the wall ahead of her.

I froze, scared that I just did something wrong, was I not supposed to open the doors?

"Oh... I'm so sorry," I exclaimed.

She didn't move she just stared at the wall.

I glanced over too but saw nothing.

"I have your blanket."

I tried again, still nothing.

[jia-shen]

N°4: Sweet Smells

Ying wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was no longer in the stairwell; instead he rested in what he assumed to be Caelus’ studio, staring up at the white ceiling on one of those long uncomfortable seats you would find in any waiting room. 

The redhead struggled to flip himself to the side, but when he did, there he saw Caelus with nothing but worry written on his face, as well as Vinu and… and Ivris?

The man fluttered his eyes repeatedly in disbelief that Ivris really was still there. “How did I… get here?” Ying asked. 

“Apparently you were caught by Ivris before you collapsed on the stairs.” Caelus explained. 

“You fainted.” Ivris added. 

Oh god, his voice. 

The redhead didn’t remember the other’s voice being so sexy! It was low and silvery, his voice very pleasant to listen to and Ying really hoped Ivris would talk more. 

“Oh… well, guys I'm fine! Maybe I just ran too hard, hehe!” Ying playfully admitted. 

“Well, why did you run anyway?” Vinu asked. 

“Aiya, you see I remembered I uh, placed an order at this place and I… I didn't want to miss it…” 

The redhead cursed himself in his mind, there really didn’t seem to be a possibly good explanation aside from the truth, which he’d rather die than admit.

 “Yeah! I thought Ivris must still hate me and instinct kicked in for me to flee!”; how utterly childish!

“Well, you rest, okay? We can take.. maybe half an hour break and meet back here, alright?” Caelus decided. The rest agreed and the stylish man went off to call Aiden over to go for lunch with him. 

With only Ivris and Vinu left with him, the latter turned to look at Ying, as if he had something urgent to say, though his brows were scrunched with a look of uncertainty. 

“I don’t know if you know this, but… I think you’re going to be in heat soon so…” he awkwardly said. 

“Wait, what?” Ying asked, propping up his upper half with his elbows against the seat he was resting on. 

“You… have this.. really strong smell to you right now… it’s— hard to ignore” the brunette admitted, turning his head away.  

“Shit.” Ying cursed under breath. 

The problem was, Ying had never been regular; his heats often came as a surprise to him. Purely at random and sometimes they wouldn’t happen for months at all. The redhead knew he should’ve had it checked out years ago, but he wasn’t even officially registered as an omega. 

“I didn’t even realize! Don’t worry about me, okay? Just go~ I have my meds.” The redhead said before giving an assuring smile with a flick of his hand. 

Vinu raised his own hand with a nod before dismissing himself from the studio to meet up with Caelus and Aiden. Finally, Ying then turned over his attention to Ivris who— to his surprise— was still there. 

“You also-”

“No need.” Ivris interrupted. 

The redhead properly sat himself up before speaking, “but I’m okay, really. I’ll just go home.” Ying assured as he attempted to stand up, but when he did, he felt his knees almost immediately go weak. 

Ivris swiftly moved to hold the other up, placing his elbows in the underarms of the other, linking both of them together. 

“Thanks..” Ying breathily said. 

It felt like the room was beginning to spin, his vision was somewhat hazy, and his body was starting to burn up again. He wondered if this really was all from his pre-heat or if he was coming down with something. 

To his surprise, Ying began to smell something in the air, it felt as if it was enveloping him in a warm, amber-like smell. Deep and buttery, the scent was nothing like the usual kind he smelled in alphas. It was comforting even.

Ying only noticed then how close they were, their chests almost touching, and his face centimeters away from the other. He wanted to bring himself in even closer; he wanted more than this. 

“Alpha… you smell so good…” Ying spoke. His words came out airy and thin, almost a moan even. When the smaller one looked up at Ivris’ face, he noticed that while not much had changed in terms of his expression, his face was a tad pink and his eyebrow twitching once or twice. 

“You’re not well.” The graceful one answered, sliding his arms out from where they were and moving them much more comfortably at Ying’s waist. The shift in touch made the latter shiver, sparking heat inside himself in a very particular region. 

“Then help me~” Ying whined, wrapping his arms around Ivris’ neck. 

The other didn’t reply back, instead he moved his hands down to rummage in the smaller one’s sweater, looking for something intently. When he seemingly found what he was looking for, Ivris retracted his hands and put them in the space between the two men. 

Ivris looked down and saw it was what he was looking for, the heat suppressants. It was better to take them now while the symptoms were still mild than later when it would be a full blown heat. 

“Take this.” Ivris said as he pushed a pill out from its silvery and plastic container. He brought the pill up to Ying’s lips, hoping he was still enough in the right mind to take it. 

“What if I don’t~?” he purred, pushing the pill with his index finger away from his mouth and closer to Ivris’ instead. 

“It will help you.” the taller one said, trying to persuade Ying. 

“Alright, alright. Since you asked sooo nicely, I will.” 

Instead of taking the pill from Ivris’ fingers, Ying tilted his head up, opened his mouth, and wantonly stuck his tongue out. 

Ivris froze in place for a second, his eyes staring heavily at the metal that was pierced through the other man’s tongue. When Ying noticed where his eyes had been drawn to, his brows raised and mouth curved as much as it could in satisfaction. 

“You like?” He asked, his words muddled from refusing to put his tongue back in to talk. 

Ivris’ brows furrowed ever so slightly, one twitching again before without a word, he placed the pill at the center of Ying’s tongue, seated just above the metal he had. Lewdly, the man retracted his tongue, much like a snake retreating after a strike. Once his mouth had closed, his lip curled at the ends with such shamelessness. 

“happy~?” Ying cooed. 

Ivris turned his head away from the other man, refusing to answer. Instead, he abruptly walked away from Ying, leaving the studio just like everyone else had. He was utterly dumbfounded. 

“What…” The redhead mumbled under his breath. 

“Why did he just leave? He’s an alpha isn’t he? He could have done whatever he wanted to me! Unless… maybe he’s already bonded? Who wouldn’t want him! Ah… maybe he really doesn’t like me even now. Was I repulsive? But I’m an omega, I can’t be!” 

Ying shook his head, scattering those thoughts away. 

“Even if I was, it doesn’t matter! He already knows my behavior anyway!” 

Ying felt himself perk up a bit, even if overall his mood was still low and body feeling groggy. Not to mention— everyone ditched him! So much for potentially being sick! 

The redhead sighed and decided he might as well rest if that’s all there is to do as Caelus suggested. His body was too hot to move around much anyway. Ying laid back down onto the seat and slowly felt his body sinking in as his muscles relaxed. Eyes heavy, the man easily drifted off to sleep, yet his mind was active as ever.

[lynxgirlpaws]

Hey er. Avie Rant time. I. Just . sorry preemptively lol

I am . having a rather hard night. Which I feel isn't even fair to say based on the circumstances but like. Whatever. So, Im chilling right? Chit Catting with people, maybe helping someone way out of my league cum, normal me behavior for the middle of the day. Anyways, my dad comes home. He. Is apparently not in a good mood, which I will discover later. First, he basically bursts into my room and demands I keep the door open bc apparently he dislikes the smell. Also I need to clean right now. Also I need to get out of bed, I don't deserve to lay in bed since I don't really work. I. Haven't put it together yet, but sure I do it whatever - I leave the door open a crack. Whatevs. Then he inquires about the food his girlfriend gave me. Which.. Was half things that I struggle to eat, but besides the point. He presses about "was that dinner?" You know. If you're here you know his obsession with me losing weight. Anyways I tell him "you said she'd bring me a snack at some point, this is what she brought. It was two hours before you allow me to eat dinner, so I assumed it wasn't" or whatever. Good enough answer for him, whatever. Sorry for all the filler, mostly dealing with him is these little things he does to remind you everything ought be how he want it, such as reminding me that I shouldn't expect dinner (although he informed me I could make a chicken patty or smth if I got hungry which, yippeee)

Anyways, a few minutes pass and. He starts his bullshit. He demands I shower now. And I only shower in the morning from now on. See, I shower at night because I like to see myself with hair I don't hate and feel clean as I sleep. However when I told him I prefer night showers, he got pissed. Angry, about why every time he asks something I have to "buck against" him . I, stupidly, ask some shit about why he doesn't let me make decisions to make me happy. He... Goes on a yelling rant about how the way I know to do things is wrong, I don't have a job or classes so I don't deserve to lay down, goes on about how there are 'rules' aka whatever he tells you... And informed me of his unwillingness to pay for college or anything unless I show initiative (fair, although he told me there was money in his mother's account or whatever that can only be used for college) and talked about how he'll kick anyone who breaks his rules out (using his girlfriend as an example)

I... I dunno. Something kinda went fucky wucky in my head and I. Maybe cut for the first time in a few months. I just. Really? All this shit because I asked if I could shower at night instead of the morning? Anyways I. I dunno, I've been . doing less than good pretty much consistently for. A long while, but not enough to really justify complaining to y'all about it . I usually just kinda brush it off but. I dunno. It was bad...der tonight. Best part is that when I get out of the shower, he tells me to come up to the door... And open it. No like, gn or whatever no happy thanksgiving, he just tells me to open the door (because he doesn't like that my room doesn't ventilate much... Despite the open window) and leaves before I can even see his face.

I. Grow weary.

tl;dr - despite no thanksgiving dinner/gathering, my family still fucked me up today lol

[gatorbites-imagines]

vending machine mechanic

Montgomery gator x male reader

Summary: The reader was hired to fix up minor machinery like arcade and vending machines. But is asked to stay one night to fix up Monty, as he damaged himself during the day. The normal repairmen have quit because of Monty’s aggressive nature, leaving only the reader. The reader is the only one with machinery knowledge, who is not scared of any of the animatronics.

 People seemed to really like the last fnaf thing i wrote, so heres another one with my favourite security breach character.

I know absolutely nothing about robotics, so I’m avoiding any words involving robots and machinery.

Requests are open

To say you were tired was an understatement. You had worked all day yesterday, come into work early today as well, and then had your manager tell you to stay for the night too. Along with that, he hadn’t even taken you off opening shift tomorrow. You were sure the old fart was trying to kill you.

You were forced to stay late because of that stupid crocodile animatronic, or was It an alligator, you honestly didn’t care. It was a reptile, and a reptile with huge anger issues. How an animatronic had anger issues, you didn’t know, and you really didn’t care enough to find out.

Apparently, the anger issues were so bad that every single other repair-person had quit or threatened to quit if they were sent to fix that stupid animatronic again. And that left you, a minor mechanic who was only supposed to fix vending machines and those tiny map bots and floor cleaner bots.

You grumbled to yourself as you threw your toolbox under your arm and trudged towards Monty’s room. Vanessa greeted you as you passed each other, and you grunted in return. You could almost see pity in her eyes. You found solidarity in each other, knowing the other was forced to stay for longer than normal. She gave you a “good luck” or “go get em” hand motion, and you just made a face in return which she laughed at.

Finally reaching Monty’s room, you saw the glass was blacked out like it always was when he was up to something. You could hear clunks and crashes from inside, throwing being thrown and shattering against the wall. Why they kept giving him shit he could break, you didn’t understand.

With a sigh, you stepped around the side of the wall, and used your employee card to get inside. As the door shut behind you, what looked like a piece of a chair smacked the wall beside your head. You had no reaction. You’d worked retail for years, having stuff thrown at you was nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The overgrown robotic Godzilla wannabe seemed annoyed you didn’t react, like he expected you to yelp and duck, but all he got was the dead-eyed glare you sent his way as you went over to the only table not torn apart and placed your toolbox on it. “You better sit down and let me fix you up Morty, or they’ll decommission you. The boss told me you’ve lost him too many employees who can sue or some shit” you snarked, flipping open your toolbox and digging around in it for what you needed.

“What the hell did you just call me?” a voice snarled behind you, suddenly very close. You were sure if animatronics could breathe, he would be breathing down your neck.

You turned around, staring up into the glowing red, or were they orange, eyes of the reptile. “I told you to sit down, Morty” you snarled right back, with the same threatening tone he used against you. Monty seemed taken back by the venom you spat back at him, the animatronic taking a step back and looking you up and down. You looked a wreck, clothes covered in oil, and bags under your eyes so dark they looked like tattoos.

“It’s Monty” he growled in a defiant tone, but he did sit down on the half-ripped couch. “Fine, Monty. Whatever. Let me do this, so I can go home.” You grunted, looking him over to see what the damage was. You found it when you saw wires sticking out of his knee. It looked like someone had taken a hammer or something to it.

“The hell happened here” you

 grumbled, crouching down, and looking it over. You stated poking at it with a screwdriver, and before Monty could reply, you already got to work. The large animatronic watched you in great interest. Not only were you not scared, but you also didn’t even seem to care that Monty had harmed multiple workers in the past and could do it again.

“What’s your name” the animatronic suddenly said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. “Me? Why do you care, not like you’ll see me again” you huffed, poking at a wire that seemed to make Monty jolt.

Monty seemed to stare at you even harder, expecting an answer. With a tired sigh you finally gave it, telling him your name. “Its (Y/N). I’m supposed to be a mechanic for all things not animatronic, but apparently you chased away all the actual robotics dudes. And because of that, I am the one who has to stay late to fix you”.

Before Monty could reply, you had already fixed his busted knee, and got to your feet where you gave a small sway. God you were tired, you felt like you were gonna pass out. The knowledge that you had to drive home, made bile rise in your throat.

Monty, seeing how the first technician that piqued his interest sway like a baby deer, grabbed you by your shoulders and got up, turning around you shove you into the seat. You feebly struggled to get up, but he would simply shove you down again. “You can take a nap here or something. Just tell the guard or whoever that it took longer than you thought”.

Monty seemed to grumble, sounding almost embarrassed about caring for anybody, even a little bit. You wanted to argue, but even though the sofa was half shredded, it was more comfortable than your bed most days. So, with a sigh, you agreed. “Wake me up in half or hour though, alright”. You murmured, your eyes already falling shut as your head fell backwards, the tools falling from your hand onto the floor.

The animatronic stared at you as you slept, wanting to brand the image of you onto his very core. There was just something about you, something that got his interest more than anyone before. Maybe it was how you didn’t fear him. Even workers who had never met him feared him in a way, because they had heard stories. But here you were, even snarking back at him when you got the chance.

His chest area warmed, and he heard his internal fans kick up as they tried to cool him down. He sat down on a chair that had survived his rage, and got himself comfortable to watch you. He wouldn’t wake you when you asked him too, you looked like you needed the sleep. And he was already coming up with how he would see you again, ways to chase off any engineer that wasn’t you, and only acting non-aggressive when they sent you. Soon they’d learn to only send you. Behind him his tail started to wag, it was a perfect plan.

[reallyromealone]

What about an oblivious reader, that works out a lot and has a really big chest. Like his button up shirt is always so tight, and it's a wonder the buttons don't pop, they already did once.

So Bonten is obsessed with the reader, and are always trying to either lay their head on his Thigh, or have their hands on his chest, and the reader is so obviously, he thinks their just really close friends and all. He is naturally caring and is always taking care of them

I hope you don't mind

Himbos are seen and loved here.

Also bb I never mind

No one fucking knew how (name) managed to get to be such close friends with the most feared men in Japan.

They were polar opposites after all.

(Name) wasn't the brightest but he was the kindest guy ever, just happy to be apart of things and generally a good time all around.

And bonten?

Well they spoke for themselves.

(Name) was wandering into the building, tool box and all as Koko noticed him first "Ah (name)~ here already?" He said seductively but (name) didn't pick up on it, smiling widely "yeah, my cousin is watching over the shop for me" his voice holding nothing but unyielding kindness as Koko wrapped his arms around (name)s muscular one, feeling his biceps and resting a hand on the man's chest while they walked.

"Have you been working out more?" Koko said lightly squeezing the man's and (name) looked prideful as he spoke "is it noticable? My buddy recommended this gym to me!"

"Well it's doing wonders!"

"Thanks!"

Half of the Bonten men stopped to watch (name) fix the desk, the focused expression hypnotizing the men as they just stared at him...well his muscles really.

God were these men down bad for him.

"Well, that should be it! Anything else I can help with?" (Name) said stretching but apparently stretching to hard as a couple buttons popped and revealing his chest much to the mens absolute delight.

"Ah crap" (name) said with a sigh as he looked at his shirt, picking at the collar and revealing more skin. "Oh well I guess you're gonna have to take it off! Tragic really~" ran said in a sing song tone as he helped the man taken off his shirt "don't worry (name), we will take care of your shirt!"

"Ah do you have a spare?"

"I will have an assistant grab one" mochi said texting his assistant to get one but at a snails fucking pace and (name) thanked him graciously before sanzu walked passed and saw him "(name)?" He asked with a weird amount of giddiness as he opened his arms for a hug knowing damn well the shirtless man couldn't deny hugs.

He just loved em!

And sanzu loved shoving his face in between (name)s tiggle biddies.

"Ah you redyed your hair!" (Name) said holding a strand of freshly died pink hair "it looks great!"

"You wanna dye your hair?" Sanzu asked with a smirk and (name) chuckled "ah thank you but I don't think i could pull it off"

"You can pull anything off!"

Like the rest of your clothes.

"That's very sweet of you!"

Eventually they had (name) fix the most random shit around the area and even breaking stuff secretly for him to fix and now here (name) was on the couch exhausted as the men went to go get him that shirt and a drink and snacks.

He earned it.

Mikey wandered out, hungry and exhausted as he scanned the room and noticed the familiar man on the couch and decided that that man's thighs would in fact be his pillow.

Wandering over, he didn't say anything as he rested his head on (name)s thighs and snuggled into his stomach and basically passing out right there, the feeling of (name)s fingers through his hair was euphoria to say the least.

(Name) smiled softly and got comfortable, knowing he wasn't going anywhere for a while.

But that's ok.

[sukirichi]

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz 

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist ! 

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Grabbing Smoke

As much time as Sam spent with her best friends, sometimes she enjoyed a little bit of time alone.

Tucker was helping his mother bake cookies for some kind of fundraiser for the hospital, and Danny was busy visiting Pandora for fighting lessons. Apparently they were using swords today.

As fun as it sounded, Sam opted to stay behind, it had been a while since she'd been down to the park to feed the ducks. She didn't get quiet moments like that very often any more.

There was an uncharacteristic skip to her gait as she walked to the park, a canvas tote bag swinging from her arm.

Living in Amity Park, and especially hanging around with Danny, gave her an eerie sense to when something was amiss. Nothing quite like Danny's ghost sense, but she'd learned to detect a particular chill to the air, a prickling at the back of her neck. It could easily be mistaken for a chilly breeze, but Sam knew better. The crunch of gravel under Sam's boots was the only sound permeating the still air, not even the trees were rustling.

She continued her walk through the park, past the wishing fountain and through a trail where the trees grew slightly more dense.

The trail opened up to a large pond, it wasn't anything especially picturesque, the reeds were a little overgrown, the ground was muddy, but there were a few simple weather worn benches by the path that looped around the water.

Sam took a seat, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. She opened it, tipped a few into her hand and tossed them into the water.

The ducks immediately sped across the pond toward her, fighting for the peas that the turtles hadn't already gotten to.

Instead of grabbing another handful, she held the bag out to the empty seat to her left, waiting for a moment before shaking the bag impatiently.

A green hand slipped into the bag, pulling out a handful of peas before tossing them into the water.

"How'd you know I was here?" Kitty asked, now sitting visibly on the other end of the bench as Sam poured out more peas for both of them.

"I have my ways." Sam smirked. "What I want to know is why you've been following me all week."

"You knew for that long and you didn't say nothin'?" Kitty huffed. "Damn, I gotta up my game."

A duck waddled up and nibbled on her boot.

"Alright alright, ya hungry little doofus." Kitty lowered a hand full of peas and cooed as the duck happily ate from her palm. "Aww these guys aren't shy at all, do you come here a lot?"

"When I can." Sam tossed a few more peas into the water for the turtles. "So why are you following me?"

Kitty sat back and pressed her lips together, thinking.

"Look it's just... I don't remember much from when I was livin', you know? It's all sorta grey and fuzzy, I can't remember what anyone looked like, except Johnny." she tossed some peas to a smaller duck at the back of the group. "But as soon as I showed up here in town and I saw your face, I thought I felt... I dunno, somethin'. Like I'd seen you before, or maybe you just reminded me of someone, but I can't remember who, it's like grabbing smoke."

She lobbed a few peas a little harder than was necessary at the water. The turtles sucked them up greedily.

"So you've just been following me hoping you might remember something else?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Kitty sighed. "But it's not working."

Sam swung her foot idly between a pair of scuffling ducks, splitting them up before tossing out some more peas.

"Maybe I'm related to someone you knew. Where did you grow up?"

Kitty frowned down at the water.

"I... I don't know." she said, deflating somewhat. "I didn't even realise I forgot that."

Sam couldn't help but feel for her, Danny had told her that ghosts would often forget things from their past, especially once they'd been dead for longer than they'd been alive. Somehow she had never really considered how terrifying that must be.

"You know..." Sam started carefully. "I could show you some old family photos. Maybe you'll recognise someone?"

Kitty looked up, eyes shining brightly.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Why not?" Sam shrugged. "If you were here to cause trouble you would have done it by now."

"Aw, I never thought you'd wanna do something like that for me." said Kitty, smiling brightly. "You always seemed like such a bitch."

Sam laughed.

"If you'd spent a week being someone that wasn't Paulina, I would probably have seemed like less of a bitch."

"So you guys are big rivals or somethin'?" Kitty asked, grabbing some more peas and giggling as three ducks tried to eat from her hand at once.

"It's more that we have... conflicting ideologies. She thinks that appearances and reputation are the most important things in life, just like my parents." Sam lobbed some more peas into the water, they both watched them disappear as the turtles quickly snapped them up. "It's shallow and stupid, and I don't get why they have to push that shit on everyone. I don't care what people think, I just want to be whoever the hell I wanna be without having to fight for it all the time."

Kitty's face turned contemplative as she tapped her nails on the back of the bench.

"I think... I was like that." she said, slowly. "I wanted to feel fun and exciting, but my parents..."

She trailed off, frowning.

"My parents... I didn't like them. They didn't like me bein' the way I was, I can't really remember why."

Sam emptied out the last of the peas and scattered them over the ground, she scrunched up the empty packet and shoved it back into her tote bag.

"You know, if we went to school together we would probably have gotten along." said Sam as she stood up, gesturing toward the path. "Let's go check out those photos."

Instead of floating invisibly behind, Kitty walked by Sam's side as they headed back to her house. She idly waved at people as they drove past, grinning when someone stared a little too long and almost ran a red light.

"You know, it's nice bein' able to walk around in the day." Kitty said, skipping a little. "Wish I could do it more often."

"What's stopping you?"

"What do you think?" Kitty's lip pulled up in disgust. "Any time I show up your dumb friend sucks me up in his stupid thermos. Only reason I can walk around right now is because I got you as my get out of jail free card."

"Danny doesn't care if you just want to walk around." Sam scoffed. "He lets ghosts wander around town all the time, he only gets involved when you start breaking things."

"Uggghhh but just walking around is so boring." Kitty pouted. "I mean yeah it's nice and I like it but it gets old real quick."

"Then you'll have to get used to getting tossed back in the ghost zone. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"Don't you ever get sick of his goody goody attitude?" Kitty asked. "I mean you and I aren't so different right? You're all about the rebel gig, don't you ever feel like keyin' some asshole's car, or takin' a baseball bat to some mail boxes?"

"Only if they deserve it." said Sam with a smirk. "But I feel like you aren't especially picky about whose stuff you're breaking."

They approached the door to the Manson mansion, Sam hopped up the steps and stuck the key in the lock. She touched the mezuzah on the doorpost without a second thought before opening the door and standing aside to invite Kitty in.

The ghost stared up at her warily.

"I can't get past it."

"Past what?" Sam asked.

"The mezuzah, it keeps me out."

"What?" Sam frowned. "It hasn't stopped other ghosts from getting in."

"Well it stops me." Kitty insisted. "I think it's got somethin' to do with what we believed in when we were alive. I haven't got a problem with churches but when Johnny tried to ride his bike through one he couldn't get in. His mom raised him Catholic, he says he doesn't believe in any of that stuff, but I think he still does, deep down."

"So does that mean you were Jewish?" Sam asked, smiling curiously.

"I AM Jewish." Kitty crossed her arms. "Bein' a ghost hasn't changed that, it just... means that we got a few things a little wrong."

Sam thought about that for a moment, before stepping aside and gesturing toward the door again.

"Well, if you've been invited and you're not going to cause any trouble, then I don't see why you shouldn't be able to come in."

Kitty climbed the steps slowly, fingers reaching out and cautiously brushing over the mezuzah, she didn't feel anything unusual, no zap or burn or pain. She took a step through the doorway and passed the threshold without issue, no invisible force or barrier like the last time she tried to follow Sam inside.

"Well, what do you know." she said, grinning.

Sam lead her into a large, open planned kitchen and dining area, the tiles were bright white save for the specks of mud Sam's boots tracked through the room. The decor was minimalist, the atmosphere bland and sterile, she could smell some kind of citrus surface cleaner.

The back wall was all windows, leading to a patio surrounded by perfectly trimmed grass. As they approached, Sam turned, heading towards a door to their right.

The next room felt a lot more friendly, it was full of bookshelves and red tones. The lounges looked soft and inviting, a fireplace sat cold and empty against the back wall, but Kitty didn't have to try hard to imagine it roaring to life, filling the room with its warm glow.

"This is basically my Grandma's part of the house." Sam informed her, voice low. "Her bedroom is just through there, she's usually napping around this time of day so try not to make too much noise."

Kitty slipped off her jacket and laid it over the back of the lounge, already feeling at home in the cosy little room. She looked over the books as Sam fussed around some kind of large ornate chest.

"Here it is." She hefted a large photo album from the chest, carefully closing and latching it again. "Let's see if you recognise anyone in here."

Kitty sat down beside Sam as she opened up the pristine book, the outer cover was beige with the name Manson inscribed in golden cursive on the front. The first page was full of old faded photos, in greyscale or sepia tones.

"Ugh, I'm not that old." said Kitty, flicking ahead a few pages.

The pictures were colourful now, but still grainy, there was a young blonde boy in seventies style jeans leaning casually against a Chevrolet.

"Wait hold up," Kitty pointed at the boy. "Him, I feel like I've seen him before."

"That's my dad." said Sam, surprised. "His name is Jeremy, did you know him?"

Kitty hummed a little, gently tracing a finger over the picture.

"Jeremy... Jeremy, I'm not sure," she frowned. "But he definitely looks familiar."

They continued through the book, when suddenly Kitty slapped her hand down roughly on a photo of a pair of young women.

"Her! I know her! She was a mega bitch!"

"Shhh keep it down." Sam hissed.

"Sorry," Kitty pointed to the blonde girl in the photo. "That one! I don't know how I knew her, but I definitely knew her. She was a total brat."

Sam slipped the photo out of its sleeve and read the neat cursive on the back.

"This is... my Aunt Caroline, in 1985. She's my dad's sister." Sam looked up at Kitty, amused. "I can't believe you had beef with my family."

"Your family are snobs." Kitty sniffed. "Carrie was such a ditz, she thought she was sooo bitchin' because her daddy bought her a Mercedes."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Sam grimaced. "Did you guys go to school together or something?"

"Maybe..." Kitty took the photo from Sam's hand, staring intently. "I'm pretty sure I skipped school a lot, I hated it there. It was a private school, we had to wear uniforms, barf."

"I would never have guessed you were a private school kid." Sam shook her head. "But most people would say that about me so it's not like I can judge."

"You went to private school?" Kitty asked, "How'd you end up in that Casper High dump?"

"Got myself expelled." said Sam, voice thick with pride. "Elementary, middle and high school, got kicked out of all three."

"Damn, you're good."

Sam grinned, slipping the photo back in its sleeve and continuing to the next page.

Kitty pointed to a few other photos, remarking on their familiarity, but not quite able to grasp how she knew them, the memories only flickered in her periphery.

"Wait," Kitty whispered, fingers brushing over a polaroid containing three people. "This is..."

The picture looked as though it were taken at some kind of party, a man and a woman faced the camera, each with a glass of champagne raised in their hands. The woman's other hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage girl with auburn hair, pulled into a tidy braid. She stared glumly at the camera.

"That's Katherine." Sam said, pointing to the girl. "She was my dad's cousin, but she got hit by a car when she was-"

Sam paused, looking over at Kitty's wide eyes and then back to the photo.

"Noooo way." Sam pulled the photo out of the sleeve. "Is this you?"

Kitty took the photo in trembling hands.

"I... I forgot I used to look like that." she fiddled with a lock of her green, teased hair. "I remember this party, I didn't want to go but mom and dad threatened to take away all my records and cassettes if I didn't."

Sam stared at Kitty, mouth agape.

"You're Car Crash Katherine?! My dad talks about you all the time! He always told me about the shit you used to get up to, he'd tell me that any kind of 'rebellious behaviour' was a slippery slope to 'dying on the back of some delinquent's motorcycle'." Sam put a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "You were my bad influence role model."

Kitty's red eyes shone with tears, photo still in hand, she wrapped her arms around Sam.

"This is majorly wicked! My legacy lives on! Corrupting the youth from beyond the grave!" Kitty laughed. "My parents would go totally mental."

She stopped laughing, her face turning forlorn as she drew back from Sam and stared down at the picture.

"Are they still alive?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.

"Yeah..." said Sam. "They live in a retirement home in Florida. They don't come around very often."

Kitty traced a finger over their faces.

"I wonder if they miss me." she said quietly. "Or if they were glad to be rid of the family embarrassment."

Sam didn't answer, she had wondered the same thing herself, if her parents would even care if she died. They hadn't given her a lot of reason to think they would.

She rested a sympathetic hand on Kitty's arm.

"Oh, you have a friend over bubbeleh?" a croaky voice spoke from the bedroom doorway.

Sam and Kitty both turned to see Ida Manson shuffling into the room, cleaning her glasses with her sleeve.

"Sorry Grandma, we didn't mean to be too loud." Sam apologised. "This is my... um, friend, Kitty. Kitty this is my Grandma Ida-"

"Ida?!" Kitty shot to her feet, staring in shock at the old woman. "Aunt Ida?!"

Ida squinted at Kitty, before quickly setting her glasses back on her face.

"Well as I live and breath, is that you Kathy?"

"Oh my god this is getting super weird." Sam whispered.

Kitty leapt over the ottoman to wrap Ida up in a tight hug, the old woman was surprised for a moment, but held her warmly in return.

"It's me Aunt Ida! Not really living or breathing but it's me!" Kitty laughed breathlessly.

"Oh my goodness, when all the ghosts started showing up all over town I wondered if I would ever see someone I knew." She rubbed comforting circles on Kitty's back as the ghost choked on a few sobs. "It's good to see you again Kathy."

Ida pulled away and wiped a tear from Kitty's face.

"And I'm so glad you aren't stuck wearing what your parents buried you in."

Kitty couldn't help but laugh through her tears.

"Let me guess, it was that putrid blue dress, wasn't it?"

"The dress wasn't nearly as bad as what they did to your hair." Ida snickered, patting Kitty's hand. "It had little ribbons in it and everything."

"I almost forgot you." Kitty placed her palm gently against Ida's face. "You were the only one in the family who ever loved me for being me, and I almost forgot you. I'm so sorry, I should have come to find you sooner but I just-"

"Shhhh, it's okay bubbeleh." Ida grasped her hand tight. "I think being dead is a pretty good excuse for forgetting a few things."

Sam stood beside the lounge, watching the two in shock, she wasn't entirely certain whether or not to intrude. Whatever she had been expecting to discover with Kitty today, it certainly hadn't been this.

Though in hindsight, it did explain Kitty's familiarity with Sam, people always said she had taken after her Grandma.

Ida let go of Kitty and hobbled over to the photo album still sitting on the lounge.

"Oh you don't want to look at that album." she said, as she shoved it onto the coffee table. She wandered to the other side of the room and began rummaging around in a small cupboard. "You want this one."

She pulled out a book with well worn, peeling edges. Pieces of the plastic sleeves had cracked off and crumbled away. It was old, and weatherbeaten, it was obvious that Ida had looked through it many many times.

"Here we go." she sat down in the middle of the lounge, gesturing for the two girls to come sit beside her. "These are the forbidden photos."

She opened the pages, the photos inside were entirely different from the 'official' album, there were no perfectly poised, prim and proper photos of people in nice, presentable clothes. They were all candid shots, people in the middle of eating or laughing, some were stumbling around blind drunk, a few were smoking joints. There were pictures from parties and protest rallies, in backyards and drive ins.

There was a picture of Jeremy as a young boy, grinning with one of his front teeth missing and grass in his hair.

"Only in this family would losing your baby teeth make a photo 'unsavoury'." Ida grizzled as she continued through the album. "I saved so many pictures that my husband would have thrown out otherwise."

"Ugh, Uncle Peter was such a prude, he wouldn't even let me in the house if I didn't have my shoulders covered up." Kitty rolled her eyes.

"He used to be so much more relaxed when we were young." Ida sighed. "He changed when he inherited his father's business, he forgot how to have fun."

A few pages later Kitty squealed in excitement.

"Oh my god! That's Frankie! She was my best friend, we used to do everything together!"

The Kitty in the photo looked far more like the Kitty Sam knew. Her hair was teased up, and she was wearing a crop top and a miniskirt. The other girl, Frankie, had short curled hair and a leather jacket. They each had an arm around the others' shoulder and grinned wildly.

"I love this one." Ida smiled as she pulled the picture out of the sleeve. "That was the night I gave you a lift to that concert."

"Oh that show was sooo good! I got my nose pierced there! It got so infected, Mom grounded me for a month." Kitty laughed.

"Man, and I thought I was cool for skipping school to go see Circus Gothica." Sam grinned. "I'm gonna have to come home with a tattoo next time."

"I can't believe I forgot about Frankie, I can't believe I forgot about all of this." Kitty held the photo close to her chest, a few tears running down her face. "I'm so glad it's not gone for good."

She kept the photo in hand as they looked through the rest of the album. There were many pictures of Ida, all of them with other people of all walks of life.

"Oh this was when you took us to that pride parade!" Kitty smiled. "You made Frankie so happy, and you knew a lot of the drag queens there, like a LOT."

"Grandma took me to a drag show when I was 10," said Sam. "Even took me backstage to meet them all, my parents thought we went to the theatre to see Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh I have photos from that." Ida flipped through the pages, getting closer to the end of the album. "Here we are, oh Evelyn just LOVED you."

Sam looked at the picture of Evelyn, frowning slightly.

"Oh weird, she kinda looks like Mr Lancer's sister, he keeps her photo on his desk..." Sam paused as she processed what she just said. "That's not his sister is it?"

"You probably shouldn't bring it up." said Ida gently. "Teachers can get in trouble for associating with this sort of thing."

"That's so bogus!" Kitty cried. "I really thought this kinda stuff would be better in the future!"

"It is," Ida assured her. "But we're a long way from perfect."

Ida flipped back through the album, searching for more pictures of Kitty and Frankie. There were a good few of them, each one Ida pulled out and passed over for Kitty to look at and hold onto.

"Oh woah, is that Johnny?" Sam pointed to a picture of Kitty sitting on the back of a motorcycle with a blonde boy. "He looks exactly the same, just a little less pale."

"Oh, did Johnny come back as a ghost too?" Ida asked.

"Yeah! We've been together all this time, in sickness and in death." Kitty beamed. "Mom and dad blamed him for everything I did, even if he wasn't around when I did it. They said him and Frankie were 'corrupting' me."

She rolled her eyes.

"I bet they blamed him for my death too. They'd be so mad if they knew we were still together."

"Just goes to show they had no chance of keeping you two apart." Ida said. "Not even death could do that."

Kitty held the photo tight in both hands, her shoulders began to shake slightly.

"It was my fault you know." she said with a trembling little giggle. "Funny huh? My parents always blamed him for everything, but in the end it was my fault we got hit. We were havin' a fight over somethin' stupid and I distracted him-"

Ida wrapped an arm around Kitty, patting her head comfortingly as she laid it against the old woman's shoulder.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself bubbeleh." Ida whispered gently into her hair. "It was raining, the truck that hit you was running a red light, the driver was charged for both your deaths. Even if you did distract him, you weren't the only card at play that night."

She gave Kitty a light shake.

"And don't think I didn't see the way Johnny used to drive that thing, he was reckless. I have no doubt that he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been." She placed a kiss on the girl's forehead and squeezed her tight. "It's not fair to hold all of that responsibility on yourself, even if you both did everything right, that truck still would have run that red light, it still would have been raining. It was just pure rotten luck."

Sam had never heard a ghost talk about their death before, even Danny didn't like talking about his accident, and asking about it was incredibly taboo. Sam had been pushing her luck earlier just by mentioning the car crash.

It said a lot about Kitty's love for Ida that she chose to open up about it. Sam couldn't say she was surprised, her Grandma had always been like that. Never anything but an endless well of love and support, and the occasional kick in the pants if you needed it.

"Johnny's always had rotten luck." Kitty sniffed. "Follows him like a shadow."

"Literally." Sam snorted.

After a few more moments, Ida pulled herself away from Kitty, she got up and began rooting through the cupboards, muttering to herself.

"Aha, here it is."

She brought over an empty photo album, it was roughly the size of a small pocketbook, containing only one photo sleeve per page.

"I meant to fill this with photos for Sam to keep." Ida admitted as she shuffled back over to the girls. "But I don't think she'll mind donating it to a good cause."

She winked at Sam, who nodded back.

"Here," Ida pressed the little album into Kitty's hands. "Memories are a fickle thing, but photos are forever."

"I can't take these!" Kitty insisted, pushing the album back. "They're your memories too!"

"Oh my god you're both so old." Sam laughed, "Dad has a printer/scanner. I can make copies."

As Sam took the polaroids to her dad's office, Ida and Kitty pored over the rest of the album, Kitty picking out more photos to copy. She chose a few of Ida and Sam, and even one of Carrie.

"She was a total loser and I hated her but I don't hate remembering her, you know? I want to remember everything, even the bad stuff."

She took a photo of her parents, just one.

When Sam came back with the last batch of photos, Ida finished slipping them into the little album.

"There's still a few sleeves left." Sam pointed out, holding up her phone with a smile. "We've got room for a couple of family reunion pics."

The two girls squished up against Ida as Sam snapped as many shots as she could. Ones where they smiled, ones where they laughed, ones where they laid haphazardly across the lounge together.

Then Sam took a few candids of just Kitty and Ida, as they looked through the new album they'd just made together. Capturing Kitty laughing at something as Ida looked at her with a soft, loving smile.

Kitty clutched the album to her chest as she gave Ida a long, drawn out hug.

"Thank you so much." she said, her voice thick with gratitude. "It's like I can see my life in colour again."

She left the house with the assurance that she would always be welcome back, at any time, and a promise that she would always be looking out for her 'new favourite cousin'.

Sam flicked through the photos she took on her phone, she would have to make sure to have copies printed by the time Kitty returned to visit.

She knew Kitty coming over regularly was going to make things complicated, her apparent newfound protectiveness over Sam could potentially backfire in many spectacular ways, she was petty and troublesome when in the right mood.

But then again, so was Ida, and so was Sam.

At least she had better things to do now than beat up strangers' mail boxes, Danny was certainly going to be glad to hear that.

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

A Family Affair

Slasher AU CannibalFamily!EraserMicxReader

We’re going with the “strange family that lives outside of a small town” trope. After a few deliveries to the Aizawa household you get pulled in to an affair you never wanted to be a part of. 

Spooky season is upon us and I’ve already begun watching too many horror movies.  This fic will definitely be a two parter

Super Dark Content Warning!!! Literally do not read if you have any reservation and definitely no minors!

TW: cannibal themes, mentions of murder, mentions of corpse mutilation, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships

Part 2 is gonna include more of this and the smut

Growing up you were grateful for living in a small town. You didn't really relate to the coming-of-age stories told in the movies where the small town girl runs off to the big city for a whirlwind romance and a chance at some "big break." To you, small town life was more picturesque than any overcrowded city. You knew your neighbors, and watched a lot of their families grow and change throughout the years. A small town allows you to become a regular at several businesses, including the coffee shop and your favorite diner downtown. Going away to college was tough even though you didn't go far. The nearest city - a little over 40 miles away - had a great college with a program you were really interested in pursuing.

You went home every break and picked up delivery jobs at one of the local restaurants. It was winter break of your last year in college when you first delivered to the Aizawa residence. In all your years at the restaurant they never ordered delivery, one of the two men would always place an order for pick up. The thing about small town stereotypes is that small towns tend to self-impose said stereotypes. The Aizawa's were that family. The one that everyone whispered when they came to town and children would tell horror stories about during Halloween. They were the weird family that lived just past the outskirts of town.

You weren't entirely sure what either of the two men did. Everyone speculated that Mr. Aizawa was some sort of mountain-man-feral type and maybe did some mechanic work for the folks that tend to live in between towns. His husband, Mr. Yamada seemed like the stay at home trophy husband but you heard he did some sort of conspiracy podcast. They had children - reportedly, but no one has really met them - and other family members that live similarly further out into the middle of nowhere. The drive was absurdly long but they were loyal customers and the owners didn't want to turn their request down. Your boss handed you a chunk of bills to fill up your tank before heading out. That's no place you'd want to get stranded, he told you.

The paved road got worse the further you got from town. Forty-five minutes later you were pulling down the dirt road that led to the illuminated Aizawa home. A wall of cold air slammed in to you when you opened your car door and you grumbled about leaving your gloves at home. There was no doorbell, so knocked and did that awkward please-don't-let-me-freeze dance while you waited. Two unfamiliar faces opened the door, an apathetic looking teen and an adorable little girl. Must be their children. The older one called out for his dad before taking one of the bags you held and disappearing into the home. You looked down awkwardly and wave at the girl. She smiled shyly and reached out for the other bag.

"Are you sure?" You asked her, "It's a little heavy."

She nodded.

"Okay, but use two hands," You passed her the bag. "Oh jeez, you're strong. Don't tell your brother, but I think this is the heavier bag."

You smiled when she giggled and ran off.

Mr. Aizawa appeared in the door, "How much do we owe?"

He was just as terrifying up close and for a split second your mind went blank while your basic instincts were begging you go back to the car. He raised an eyebrow at you, looking irritated at your falter.

"Uh - forty-two."

He pulled counted out a chunk of bills and then you were off. You didn't even count the amount until you parked. Forty-two with a forty-dollar tip. They may be odd but apparently they're loaded. You didn't think much of it until the following week when you were heading back to their house with another delivery. You wished that they would order earlier but at least you could hope for another generous tip. You were taken aback when the little girl answered the door by herself, jumping up and down with excitement.

Was she old enough to answer the door by herself?

"Papa," She yelled. "The lady is here!"

She turned her attention back to you with a huge grin, "Shinsou got sore that you told me I'm the stronger one."

Before you could respond to her the other man, Mr. Yamada, bounced around the corner, "Eri, what have we told you about the door? Oh no, you must be freezing come stand inside while I go get your payment. Forty-two right?"

You wanted to protest, feeling uneasy in their entryway but the little girl tugged you by the delivery bags. So you stood there quietly while she ran back in forth so she could unload the delivery for you. Shinsou peered around the corner so you gave a small wave. Then it was just you and Eri once again. In the background you could hear Yamada asking his husband where the wallet went.

"I like your shirt," You smiled, trying to fill the silence.

"I wanted a Pegasus shirt but this was the only one my daddy could find."

"Well I think unicorns are pretty cool too."

You use to babysit for some of the families in town, no part of you could imagine doing that all the way out here.

The blonde rejoined you, giving you another lush payment. You heard the little girl whine about you leaving so quickly until her father appeased her by saying you'd be back.

Something about that rubbed you the wrong way; but you were back like clockwork the next week with their usual delivery. Once again you were brought inside while they went to get your payment. But on your fourth and what should have been your final delivery of the winter break you noticed something was off when you parked. Their truck was missing from its usual spot. Strange but they probably just moved it somewhere else on the property. You had become accustom Eri running to answer the door and telling you wait for her parents in the entrance of the house. You became suspicious after she had run back and forth to take the food to the kitchen.

"Eri, where are your parents? Or Shinsou?"

The little girl's response was nonchalant, "They had to go out, one of our cattle got out. But they gave me the money."

You stuffed the money into your jacket; payment was the issue here. In the back of your mind you though about how you never saw any cattle on your deliveries. A child her age shouldn’t be left alone.

"Oh, well, can I hang out with you while we wait for them to come back?"

The little girl lit up as she pulled you to the living room. There was a kid's movie playing on the TV and she had a coloring book out. Eri divide up her crayons and tore out a page for you to join her. You kept looking to the window, waiting for the truck to pull up.

Suddenly there was banging at the door, which elicited a cry from Eri. You reached into your pocket only finding the crumpled bills. Shit, your stomach dropped. You left your phone in your car. After all, this was just supposed to be a quick delivery. The noise stopped, only for a moment, before resuming.

"Eri, sweetie," You whispered to the stunned little girl. "Do your parents have a phone here?"

She shook her head.

A man’s voice tore through the door, "Let me in dammit, you have to let me in before they come back."

You held your finger to your lip, and Eri nodded, repeating the gesture. The living room light was on and you realized that if he came to the side of the house you'd be seen through the window, but turning out the light would draw attention. Maybe he was bluffing, maybe he didn't know if anyone was inside and turning off the light would signal your presence. You pointed to the kitchen, where the lights were off and the two of you tip toed to the safety of darkness.

"Eri, honey, can you go sit in the pantry for me and be really, really quiet? I'll be right out here and don't come out until I come to get you okay?"

She looked hesitant and tearful but you were surprised at her level of composure for a kid. Finally she complied. Once the pantry door was closed you began rummaging through the drawers, looking for something that could inflict the most damage. A meat tenderizer could work. The banging continued and you swore you hear wood beginning to splinter. Your grip tightened with every bang. Finally the door gave way and a man stumbled through the splintered wood. He stopped when he saw you holding the cleaver.

He was dirty, without shoes or a shirt and his skin was red from the cold.

You hoped your voice wouldn’t crack, "You need to leave-"

"Monsters, monsters," he blabbed. "They're gonna come back and we gotta go."

You decided to bluff, "Get out of here, I already called the cops."

"Good, good, good," He mumbled, “but we still gotta go. NOW."

There was one step forward from him, one step back from you.

"If you come near me, I'll make sure you don't get up," You warned. At the very least you had to keep him away from Eri. Even if that was all you could do.

There was a desperate look in his eyes; they darted from you to the keys hooked to your jeans, then back to the keys. Finally he smiled, "You have a car, man that's perfect. Listen I won't hurt you but we need to get in your damn car, now."

Sounds like something someone who wants to hurt me would say, you thought. Apparently you took too long to respond, the man lunged toward you and you tried to swing the meat tenderizer. The tool connected with his shoulder and he howled out in pain but still managed to wrestle you to the ground. The two of you struggled with each other and the man was yelling that you'd die if you didn't listen to him. You landed a weak hit to his jaw, splitting his lip. You even tried biting at him but he was persistent and struggling to get your keys. You were telling him he could have them that he just needed to let you go but he wasn't listening to you. Managing to grab his ear you had a flashback to the self-defense seminar you had to take in college, it should be easy to rip a human ear. So you pulled. Blood began to flow from the wound down his face and on to you. He got you off him before you got the whole ear by delivering a blow to your stomach. The air rushed from your body, is this what it means to get the wind knocked out of you?

There was a loud noise and fog lights flooded through the broken door. Then saw Shinsou and Aizawa pulling the man off you. You pushed yourself and back, clutching at your stomach. Your cheeks were wet. Were you crying or was that blood on your face? Probably both.

The trio wrangled the man outside where you heard more struggling, fighting, and groaning.

Eri.  You managed your way to the kitchen but realized you were covered in blood. Not wanting to traumatize the little girl any further you spoke through the door.

"Eri, can you stay there a little bit longer?"

"Can't I come out? I heard my daddies," She cried, tugging at your heartstrings.

"Not yet, okay? They're here and everything's okay, I'm gonna have them come get you okay?"

Thankfully, the door didn't open. As you shuffled toward the front door Mr. Yamada entered, wiping specks of blood off him.

You were shocked when he pulled you into a hug, "You're okay. Sho and Shinsou got everything under control. Where is Eri?"

You told him about her hiding spot and he sighed in relief and rushed to her.

The other two returned with bloodied knuckles that made your stomach churn.

"Yamada," The mountain man called, with his eyes scanning the home.

"Don't worry, Sho, I got Eri. She's fine. Our delivery girl is okay, she's got some bumps and bruises but she made the other guy look worse."

Aizawa ushered you to the couch, expecting your legs to give out at any moment.

"We need to call the police," You finally spoke.

Aizawa assured you he did. They were 45 minutes out but they'd work on getting here faster. Yamada brewed you a cup of tea, “for while we wait.” They finally calmed Eri down and Shinsou took her upstairs to get ready for bed. It felt weird for them to return to mundane evening routines so quickly after all that chaos, but maybe you were just the odd one out. Close to an hour later you were still waiting for the police to show up. Your tea was finished long ago and your nerves had calmed. You were even having trouble keeping your eyes open.

"You think they're almost here, babe" The blonde wondered, draping a throw blanket around your shoulders. "I'm sure she wants to this day to be over with."

---

It was still dark when you woke up. The blonde was fast asleep on the recliner next to you. The police must have come by now but there was no way you slept through the visit. Anxiety from earlier made it’s way back in to your chest. The clock read 4am; had they even called the police. All of the childhood rumors you heard came flooding back and you exited the house as quietly as you could, not realizing your keys were no longer with you.

When you made it outside you noticed dried blood on the ground, trailing toward what you assumed was their barn or storage shed. You were entranced. Looking back to the house, no one was awake; there was no movement, no light, just quiet. You shouldn’t follow the bloody trail, you shouldn't go near the shed; but your body moved on it's own accord and before you realized it you were at the doors. You gave a tug, expecting it to be locked, but the door swung open and inside you noticed the lock lay on the ground.

You should have turned around, got in your car, and drove away. Instead you stepped inside and found the bloody, broken body of the man who attacked you. There was a slight sway to the corpse that was hanging from a reinforced pillar. Nearly screaming your hand shot to cover your mouth.

You should've left.

You should've left.

You should've left.

Aizawa was watching you from the kitchen, cursing Hizashi for leaving the shed unlocked. His hand hovered over the secured cabinet drawer that stored a pistol. He wouldn't shoot you only scare you a bit. But you weren't running out in a panic. He didn't even hear you scream. Interesting. He went to join you, moving like any predator concealing it presence and leaving the gun safe untouched.

You should've left.

You should've left.

You finally came to your sense and whirled around only to run into your late night admirer. A terrified squeak escaped you as you jumped further into the confined space.

"Mr Aizawa! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - I'm sorry."

He didn't look angry, although you wished he did. It would be better than the unsettling smile on his face.

"That's alright, I was heading out here anyway," He closed the door behind him and flicked on a dim light that lit up the room with shadows. "Can't leave it hanging for too long."

Your throat tightened, he stood between you and the only exit. If he noticed your terror there was no indication that he cared. He turned his back to you momentarily, rummaging through the clutter on the workbench. Now was the best chance you may get and you made a dash for the door. It was a futile attempt and part of you knew it but your nerves were ablaze with adrenaline and you were running on instinct not reason. There was a foreign tightness around your throat that kept you fighting to inhale. Struggling to breathe you didn’t even register the sharp pinch of a needle piercing your deltoid.

Aizawa pressed his nose to your hair, "Behave. Even if you get out of here, your tire has a flat, pesky nails tend to find their way on to the roads out here. A real shame."

He dragged you over to a chair across from the lifeless body cuffing both your wrists to the armrests. Stupid, stupid, he was grabbing out cuffs and I ran straight into him, you scolded yourself. You went to open your mouth and beg to be let go, but you were silenced.

"Keep it down or I'll have to find a way to keep you quiet."

Your heart was beating so hard it hurt. Once a friend said it was possible to die by fright, if that was true you wouldn't last much longer. Now that you were safely out of the way, Aizawa could make quick work dismembering the carcass. He donned his usual rubber apron and pulled back his hair. With his experience he could finish the job in less than two hours. Now was as good a time as ever for you to learn.

With a sigh he began his explanation and craft:

"Cannibalism has been around as long as we've existed: sacrificially, ceremonially, culturally, especially during times of plague, war, and famine. You can find documented accounts from pretty much every part of the world. And there's no one reason. Our family keeps it simple. We eat meat, animals are meat, and humans are animals. In times of famine and other hardships, this was a reliable food source. Of course now, there's not much of a risk for severe famine to effect people like us but it's tradition. This is how it's been for our family for years. And not just those of us around these parts but our relatives everywhere. It's important to keep old trades alive."

He paused, now splattered with blood, to take note of your dry heaving.

"Please," You gasped. "I just want to go -"

With narrowed eyes he continued:

"It's important for you to listen to our family history. Typically we don't reap a harvest until three weeks after the winter solstice and 3 weeks before the summer solstice. Twice a year is enough to get us by. Zashi and I are impressed that you managed to wrangle him in. Poetic in a way, don’t ’cha think? Consuming the flesh of someone who tried to overpower you. First reap of the harvest. Nice that it's a family affair."  

The room was spinning and you were fighting the sedative as hard as you could. There was no way any of this was real, maybe you were dreaming? Maybe you'd been knocked unconscious when that man rushed you. Or better yet, maybe you were asleep at home still. It was possible that this whole delivery fiasco was just a nightmare. Your stomach churned at the speech. There was sun peaking through the cracks in the wall by the time he finished separating the ... different sections. There was no more body, just pieces. You nodded off for a few minutes before being jolted awake by the door opening and letting in the bright morning light .

"Good morning, you two night owls," Hizashi beamed. Walking to his husband handing over a tall mug of coffee. He was completely unfazed by the scene he walked in on. In fact the only frown he made was when Aizawa said he put too much sweetener in the coffee.  "Anyways, grumpy pants, I called your sister. She's on her way to pick up Eri and Shinsou for a few days. To give us some time to focus on our little muse. Speaking of, I should go get her some water. Oh, plus we need to fix our door."

---

After you refused to drink anything they tried to give you they left you alone in the shed. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip through and in your struggle you managed to topple the chair over, hitting the floor with painful slap. It was hard to ignore the buzzing of the flies swarming the space where the body once hung. You closed your eyes, your mind wandering to your family and what they would think when they realized you were missing.

Outside you heard a car pull up and were tempted to scream for someone to help you. Maybe it was the police; maybe someone realized you didn't go home last night and found out where your last delivery was. Your captors came out to greet whoever it was and you were glad you didn't yell, they sounded friendly. They were coming toward the shed but you were too defeated to react.

"Sho," Hizashi gasped, "She fell."

The response was sharp and sarcastic, "I hadn't noticed." He yanked you up with ease and the world was no longer side ways but the jolt paired with the exhaustion and drugs left the world spinning.

The woman must've been the sister they mentioned earlier. She squealed with delight, "Oh isn't she the cutest, lemme get a good look."

She resembled neither of the men and gave off cool-soccer-mom vibes. With a gentle grip on your chin she bore into your eyes.

"Please,” You begged, “I just want go home."

The sister didn't waiver, "Don't worry sweet thing, these two are gonna take such good care of you. Just relax and let them help you."

Help? You don't need help from them. You needed to get out of this hell.

"Okay," She bounced toward the exit, "Bring out my niece and nephew, we're gonna have a fun weekend. And take care of your girl, she looks like a keeper."

Finally you screamed in frustration. Brief, loud, and full of anger but it deflated just as quickly when the two men shot you a menacing look. How could all three of them show no display of empathy? You were again convinced this was an alternate reality when both children peaked their heads in to wave goodbye before they peeled away from the home, leaving you alone with Hizashi and Aizawa.

---

There was a hatch toward the back of the room where the two disappeared until they came back with a third body. They were dragging a woman up like a ragdoll and acidic bile burned your throat. If you had to guess you would say she was late middle age. It felt like they were setting a stage, Hizashi pulled you closer to where they stood while Aizawa managed to tie the woman down to the stained table.

"Why are you doing this," you cried. But they ignored you.

"Did you know there are people who pay for certain oddities and they’re willing to spend big bucks to get what they want? We keep whatever makes sense to eat and sell the rest. Ideally nothing goes to waste.”

The next hour and forty-seven minutes were excruciating. There were several “items” – as they referred to her body parts – that they removed while she was still alive; but finally Aizawa made the perfect incision along her thigh and a pomegranate wave gushed out. There was no way she would suffer much longer with this amount of blood loss.

"Please just let her die," You begged the universe. "Please let it end."

For the first time since starting they stepped back from the body, leaving it on the table to come over to you. Aizawa knelt before you and his bloody hand brushed hair from your face; his thumb rested on your lip and you couldn't even physically respond. Hizashi was behind him, rubbing his partner's shoulders.

"You're going to kill me?”  

Both men finally softened, coming down their endorphin high. There was something so satisfying about your question. Arousing, even. They made it clear that your life was up to them, which meant they had you where they needed you.

"Am I having a blonde moment? I don't recall saying we'd kill her."

Aizawa threw an incredulous look his way before addressing you, "We aren't going to kill you. We wouldn't've saved you from that terrible animal if that were the plan. We don't kill just anyone. We wanted to introduce you to our lifestyle and now’s the best chance. Eri’s wanted to keep you since day one, but if you can't behave that'll be an issue. Can you prove to us that you’re going to behave or do we have to get you down into the cellar?”

There was no other choice than to nod. Picking up a piece of the dissected woman Hizashi muttered something about starting dinner before telling his husband that you really need to get more rest. Aizawa agreed, and since it seemed like you were having trouble getting rest he decided to give you another little dose of medicine.

[yoooespinosa]

could you please write a draco x reader fic, where the reader is hopelessly in love with draco, and she's not afraid to show it. but draco doesn't feel the same. and draco being draco, he rejects the reader with no remorse. then when the reader finally comes to the realization that she deserves better, she started seeing new people (not necessarily dating, but more like talking), then that's when draco feels a bit jealous now that the reader isn't all over him anymore. the rest is up to you, love! just something really angsty, you could end it in any way you'd like.

also, sidenote. you're an amazing writer and i love you!!

a/n: Thank you for your request! ily <3

To say you had a crush on Draco Malfoy, was an understatement.

You couldn't help it, you couldn't just stop the feelings you developed every time he came around.

When he walked into the room it was butterflies breaking out of their cage, palms growing sweaty and your heart racing so fast you were scared you'd be able to see its indentions.

It was scary at first, to have such feelings at only thirteen years old. So you did your best to ignore them. You did your best to stay out of his way.

That only worked for so long.

When you are friends with Draco and the people that surround him, it becomes very hard to stay out of his path.

So it was only inevitable that your crush on him would become so much more. Especially as the years went on.

He hadn't made it much easier. Sometimes you felt as if, maybe, he returned your feelings. How could you think otherwise? With the way he walked with you to class, carried your books at times and spent time with you. Just you. Alone.

How could you not fall in love with him.

With all that simmering in you, you finally let it out. You made your affections obvious, not afraid to show Draco how you felt for him. You had thought it was welcomed. You thought that the feelings would be returned.

It seemed as though he could only tolerate you for so long. Yes, that was the right word for it, the only thing he had for you was toleration.

Your shoes sounded on the stone under you, on your way to the Slytherin common room. You had just got out of detention with professor Snape. You suppose it was well deserved, you had seen Draco almost put the wrong ingredient in his potion, so you being you had wandered to his table and helped him, much to Snapes dismay.

Whispering the password, you made your way through the dim passage. Chattering of people from all years and faint laughter was heard all around.

You spotted your friends right away, seated by the green flamed fireplace, as usual.

"She just can't take a hint." You heard Draco grumble, you paused your steps, you didn't mean to eavesdrop but it seemed as if your feet had a mind of its own.

"Wait," Blaise closes the book he had in his hold. "who are we talking about again?"

Pansy sighs, seeming they had been on the topic for some time. "We're talking about y/n."

Your brows furrow. Going back to the first thing you heard Draco say, she just can't take a hint, what was that supposed to mean. What hint?

"Why can't you just tell her how you feel?" Theo adds, his voice is laced with annoyance, maybe this isn't the first time they've talked about this.

"I thought how I felt would be obvious enough, without having to say anything." He huffs.

"Well," Theo sighs. "apparently not."

You were becoming anxious. What were they talking about and what exactly was Draco feeling? There was streak of hope in you, maybe he'd confess right here that he felt the same.

"What do you suggest I say then, oh-wise-one?" Draco asks teasingly.

"Easy, just say exactly what you tell us." He clears his throat dramatically, adopting a mock version of his voice, "Y/n, you have to be one of the most annoying girls, I have ever had the dissatisfaction of meeting. Please, oh please take the hint and leave me alone because these attempts at getting at me are getting more pathetic each time." He finishes with a clumsy curtsy.

The other Slytherins try to stifle their laughs.

You hadn't even noticed the gasp that escaped your throat until four heads turned to your direction.

"Y/n, I didn't kn-" You cut of Theo's words and apologetic stare.

"Is that true?" You ask Draco, your voice low, laced with hurt. Your nose was stinging and your bottom lip hung heavy, but you refused to cry in front of them. You wouldn't give them another weakness to laugh about.

Draco managed to keep his face blank, no emotions shining through. He shrugged, "Pretty much summed it up."

You almost flinched. He didn't even care about the hurt those words brought you.

You left without a look back. Leaving behind your friends call of your name. They weren't the ones you wanted an apology from. They had known how much you felt for him and didn't even bother telling you that it was definitely not mutual. They even laughed, like it was a joke, like your heart was a comedic topic.

The cold air hit your face, freezing against the tear stain tracks. You sat on a lone stone bench in the court yard, letting those tears make a home on your cheeks.

It wasn't obvious--his dislike to you. If it was, you would have gave up long ago. But a part of you felt that there was hope and you had chased after that.

Why couldn't he have just told you when you first let your affections known, it seemed that he had encouraged it back then, with lingering touches and soft smiles.

Looking back now, you notice that those advantages had slowly disappeared. You had been too caught up in his silky hair, those gray eyes filled with mirth and mischief, his angular face with high bones that no one could compare to, that you hadn't notice everything was unrequited.

A sick part of you even felt honored to have your heart broken in the hold of his beautiful hands, the part that saw him do no wrong.

Maybe that was the first problem, you put him on a pedestal, so high up you weren't able to see anything negative of him. You weren't able to see his cruel reality of his feelings towards you.

And he didn't even seem sorry. He didn't even look bothered by the damage of his words.

You were so nice and considerate to him. You would support him at every quidditch game, cheer the loudest even when he lost. You bought him presents for every one of his birthdays and even Christmas, each one sentimental and thoughtful. You had comforted him when he got those letters, that he despised, from his father. You had voiced encouragements when he showed a little tell sign of his insecurities. You had been there for him.

And he treats you like this, like you can be so easily dismissed. You didn't deserve that, you didn't deserve to be called pathetic for having normal feelings and then being laughed at for it.

The longer you sat on that cold bench, the angrier you got. A bitter feeling growing in your stomach, melting away those knots.

You wasted all this time and effort on some guy who didn't even deserve it, some guy who didn't appreciate you. It wasn't fair.

"Hey, you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through your revelations.

You looked up and met green eyes framed with circular glasses.

"Yeah. I was just thinking." You mumbled, the bitter taste was stuck on your tongue, you wanted rid of it.

"Mind if I sit and think with you?" Harry asked, he was nervously scratching the back of his neck, smiling warmly at you.

You offered him a smile, welcoming his genuineness. "Go ahead."

He sat there with you for hours. Surrounded by the sound of wind. It was nice and comfortable. The bitter feeling leaving you completely. You were content now, even if you could still feel the ache in your arms from holding onto Draco for so long.

Weeks had passed. Weeks of no signs of you. The first week Draco hadn't been worried, a little curious, but that was all. The longer it went on though, he became a little more than curious. Not because he cared, cause he didn't, just that if something happened to you, it would be his fault. His rejection was the reason you ran off like a fool to who knows where.

Which is the only reason he went looking for you. He already got a lot of shit from the others, he didn't need more problems stacking up.

He checked all of your favorite places. Starting with that tree down by the black lake that you enjoyed to lean on and watch the sun go down, the sunset wasn't near so he should've known you would not have been there.

He then went to the gardens, there was a bench there that was next to a small pond. It was filled with odd creatures and was home to your favorite flowers, lotus's. You weren't there either.

Lastly, he went to a certain abandoned hall. You had to be there. You went there to be alone with your thoughts, you had taken him with you there a few times. There was a big window there with a thick ledge, streams of sunlight beamed through and tiny rainbows would reflect on the opposite wall due to the cracks on said window.

He heard you before he saw you. A soft laugh reverberating through the empty hall, a laugh he had always found annoying. Hearing it now though, just made him want to get closer to you.

So he did, walking with light footsteps. He froze, you were not alone. Sitting there in the space he once accompanied, was Harry fucking Potter. What kind of sick joke was this?

Why were you sitting with him? And does that mean you just laughed at something he said?

Your laugh sounded through again, once piercing now melodic. It was a bitter feeling, Potter shouldn't have the honor of dragging that sound out of you, he shouldn't even witness it.

Draco left the hall before either of you saw him, he needed to get himself in check.

More weeks passed. Weeks of you hanging out with Potter. You were doing things with him that you had done with Draco.

It was on purpose, you had to be doing it on purpose. You were simply trying to make him jealous and it was annoyingly working.

But how could you be doing that when you didn't even look back to see a reaction.

Draco didn't know what to think. He didn't even know what to feel, or more like let himself feel. Something had changed in the weeks you were away from him.

A revelation of sorts. He missed you. Missed what you would do for him. He regretted what he said and what he never had the chance to say. Because maybe deep down those feelings had been returned, but he was just too stubborn to show.

And now he's seeing you realizing that you deserve more than blurred lines and assumptions. And he's realizing maybe Potter is that more that you deserve.

Draco doesn't like that one bit, he can't even stomach the thought. So he promises to himself that he will do everything in his power to win you back. Even if that means saying that he was sorry and admitting that he was in the wrong, something he's never had to do before.

But if that makes you his again and gets you away from Potter, then its worth it.

Part 2