#i'm not done yet no!!! and i DOUBT i'm going to be done in. squints. 114 words. 1114... maybe? but uh. yeah

[leatherbookmark]

♪ bad, bad news ♪

[specsthesecond]

Witch Troubles #3

It's a fairly common practice among witches to form pacts with demons.

It's not necessary but it's an age old practice meant to strengthen ones connection to magic. The witch gains a stronger connection to magic and in exchange the demon gains easier access to the mortal realm.

You've debated this decision for awhile and you finally think you're ready to forge your own pact. Worst case scenario is the demon refuses your offer, which would be embarrassing but not the end of the world.

You shut the door of your room, close the black out curtains and light a few candles. Squinting at the diagram of the summoning circle in your grimoir you try to replicate it perfectly on the old wooden floorboards in white chalk. When it's done you dust off your hands and place the candles in the right places around the circle along with a good amount of enchanted salt around the circumference for your protection. You stand up and take a breath before reciting the ancient words in your book while channeling all your energy into the circle.

The flames burn higher, so hot you have to shrink back a little. It takes all your effort and concentration to keep the chant going without misspeaking or burning the house down. A giant fire now billows in the centre of the circle, something large rises from the middle. You finish the spell and the flames gradually flicker away to reveal exactly the entity you were trying to summon. The little candles around the circle are the only source of light now, barely illuminating your guest. Smoke smoulders off its skin as it rises to full height and stares right at you with it's flaming eyes.

The demon, male it seems, stands in the middle of the summoning circle as tall as your book shelf and just about as wide. True to the drawings and diagrams in your texts he stands on two thick furry goat-like legs. The soft looking tuft at the end of his long thin tail swishes against the old floorboards as they creak under his weight. The rest of his body is charcoal black but otherwise fairly human save for the large goat-like skull that is his head. Beautiful horns, much too majestic for a demon, sprout from the white bone and curl into a thick loop on either side of his skull.

In short; he's the definition of tall, dark and handsome.

Two flaming pits behind the eye holes in the skull serve as eyes, they burn red and hot like the flames of hell as he glares down at you. You assume it's a glare, it's hard to tell.

You clap your grimoir shut, unable to look away from the demon yet. He seems the same, quietly observing you.

"Good evening, I'm sure you know why I've summoned you."

You say as calmly as possible. The demon looks you up and down and hums lowly, sceptical.

He grunts and crosses his arms over his chest. You have to use all your self control not to look down at the incredibly distracting package he's carrying between his legs as it bobs with the movement. Obviously you were prepared for him to be naked, demons don't wear clothes but actually having to practice that self-control is another thing entirely.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when the demon speaks, low and gravely like you expected.

"Witches used to dance for us around fires, bathe in the blood of sacrifices, throw orgies. This is all I get for my pact proposal?"

That's not what you expected. You were expecting some doubt sure but he sounds... offended? He's complaining?

"I don't need to do any of that to show you my worth. You can already sense my magic capabilities, I can show you- ."

He growls again. When he speaks his jaw bone doesn't move, the voice sounds like it reverberates around the skull on its way out.

"Its about devotion, witch. You show me your devotion and I'll give mine in return. No one cares for presentation anymore."

Who needs presentation? Sure, devotion is important in a pact but he's being ridiculous. You look around the room for a moment before saying flatly,

"My apologies but I will not be sacrificing anything or throwing any orgies and I cannot dance."

The demon scoffs and adjusts his crossed arms, thick biceps flexing as he does.

"All witches dance. Your ancestors where very good at it."

You scoff, telling him about your magic capabilities definitely isn't going to work. Why'd you have to get a difficult demon? Why couldn't you get a normal power-hungry one?

"Are you truly that compelled by naked dancing women?"

You attempt to needle him in hopes of avoiding what you know is inevitable. He doesn't respond, just stands there expectantly.

Some demons may agree to pacts based only on the power of the witch but others don't care for power and value the devotion of the act much more. You were very much hoping for the former but you're going to have to deal with what you got.

After a few moments of staring at eachother you finally crack and bend down to make quick work of your shoes and socks. You dropped your skirt around your ankles, take a deep breath and slide your panties down your legs. You see the demon shift his weight in your peripheral but you don't look at him as you unbutton your blouse and unclip your bra. You leave your black pointy hat on your head, assuming that's part of the appeal.

You only look back at him when you're completely naked, standing Infront of him and crossing your arms over your tits, mirroring his own stance.

He seems amused at that, You can see the little flames in his skull move up and down in a way that indicates he's soaking in your nude body.

"Unfortunately, dancing naked around a fire was not passed down to me like the magic was."

"A pity."

You scowl and the demon huffs smoke through the holes in his skull, chuckling.

"You're a witch, magic exists in your very veins. Use it. Caress your body. Sway your hips. Feel the power in your body and worship it as you would a god."

He says it like it's incredibly obvious and you actually feel inclined to listen to him. You close your eyes and try to "feel the power" whatever that means. You uncross your arms and place them on your thighs, slowly moving them up your waist and back down again.

Your skin feels especially sensitive being completely bare in front of such a powerful being, who is also naked. Just the light touch of your hand makes your skin prickle as you move your fingers slowly across yourself.

You start to arch and sway, hands moving up your thighs, across your stomach, along your neck. You free yourself, offering your body to this demon. The demon growls lowly and says in a deeper tone than before,

"The point of the pact is the connection. You summoned me, This is your pact to forge so show me your devotion."

His fiery eyes follow your every move, every sway of your hips and bounce of your tits.

You carefully run your hands from your waist up to your tits, briefly feeling the soft fat before moving up your shoulders. You stretch your arms high, now putting your tits on full display for your demon guest, the attention and cool air makes your nipples harden.

You turn around, your back facing the demon and he huffs irritably at being denied the sight of your perfect tits. His grievances are smothered when you bend down and run your hands up the back of your legs all the way to your ass, gripping the fat just enough to make it jiggle for him.

You can feel the room getting hotter, you can see his cock getting harder and you can feel the wetness In-between your legs as you dance.

You give one last tantalising hip sway before slowly dropping to your knees in front of him, on the edge of the salt circle. You look up at him while sliding your hands up your thighs, from here you have a perfect view of his half hard cock, looking so thick and heavy the sight has you nearly panting like a dog.

You rest your hands behind you, now presenting your entire body to him, tits perked and pussy drooling, devilishly tempting.

"Does that satisfy."

You say gazing up at him sultry gaze flicking down to his cock, you swear you saw it twitch.

"You know exactly what would satisfy me."

His voice is deeper than before, more gutteral and it makes you squirm. You might have been embarrassed about being so open about his effect on you if it wasn't for his obvious arousal for you. You're honestly just glad this is going well so far.

You lean forward, shuffle closer to the salt barrier and stick your tongue out, mouth open and waiting, silently begging for him.

The demon's hand goes to hold his cock immediately and he steps towards the barrier holding his cock out, but before he can place the tip on your hot tongue, you pull back slightly with a sick grin on your face.

The demon tries to grab your face but you retreat further, past the salt circle and therefore out of reach. You look up at his collosal frame with a smug smirk as he growls in irritation and the candle flames flicker violently.

"Don't forget, this is a mutual pact, demon. You don't call the shots... I want to be on top."

"What makes you thin-“

"I'm on top or you can go back home."

He grumbles something unintelligible, shaking his head in disbelief. One hand goes back to his cock idly stroking the thick member as he nods his head, accepting the terms.

You stand and steel yourself before wiping away a portion of the salt line with your foot, breaking the circle. You reach out for his hand and he accepts it with the hand not stroking his dick, stepping out of the circle and into your bedroom. His hands are immediately on your skin, thick fingers running along your waist and down to your hip. His skin is so warm, like the blood running through his veins is boiling hot giving the surface skin a pleasant warmth.

He stares down at you in suspense waiting for your go ahead.

You bring your hands up his chest and around his broad shoulders, and pull him down to your height only to push him down your body until his skull face is right Infront of your pussy. You let him get a good sniff of your smell before pushing him down to the ground with your foot, standing above him looking very tryumphant.

He doesn't have much time to marvel at your figure above him because before he knows it you're sitting on his dick, pussy pressing right against his cock, he bucks on instinct, the wet warmth of your pussy against the heat of his cock makes him let out a gutteral moan.

You slowly rock your hips back and forth the length of his cock, an impressive length but one you could manage. Neither of you can stand the foreplay any longer, his hands grip your waist at the same time you finally slide his cock into your waiting cunt.

You both groan at the feeling as you pop the mushroom head into your cunt and you slide your pussy down to the hilt, feeling every vein of his hot cock against your walls. You're so slick and needy the fat cock slides in with surprisingly little resistance. That makes him chuckle, which you cut off with a deliberate thrust of your hips.

Your screams are muffled and gargled but the sound of your wet pussy slapping and squelching around his cock as you cum echos throughout the room. He growls and snarls into your mouth when he gets close, tilting his head back in absolute bliss.

You plant your feet on either side of his waist, moving all the way up back to the tip and then plunging back down again taking him as deep as he'll go. You bounce and hump on this demons fat cock, tits bouncing in tandem, pretty face in the throws of pleasure. It's a sight to see and he loves every minute of it, clutching your hips but letting you control the pace.

The fur covering his legs is soft and warm against your ass as you ride your new pact mate. Your hands rest on his strong chest as you lose yourself even more in the intense pleasure. Panting and groaning, as you approach your high, your thrusts get more frantic as if you're trying to get him even deeper into your cunt. Your eyes are locked onto the way his pretty cock disappears Into to your cunt, the fur at the hilt becoming wet with your slick.

"Ah~ cum inside, cum inside, cum inside me!"

Your frantic pleas are heard when he wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, his other hand firmly on your ass pushing into you as deep as possible. You finally cum around the throbbing cock clenching your walls deliciously, pressed into his chest. He cums seconds after you, shooting abnormally hot cum deep inside you. Your body stills as you cum down, his strong arms move you body against him in shallow thrusts as he bucks up into you, riding out his high.

You limply lie on his massive chest catching your breath as you come down, ignoring the drool you left on his pec. You realise he's eerily quiet and look up only to find he's staring at your face in a manner you think is expecant? Only then do you actually realise that his dick hasn't gone down at all. You can't help but laugh, pussy involuntarily clenching making the demon clutch your hips tighter.

"Is this all for me or is it just a demon thing?"

He huffs out camp fire smelling smoke from his skull and leans up into a seated position. The change in position makes his cock adjust and you moan softly at the feeling while grasping his large biceps.

"You've got jokes."

He looks down at you, you try to read his expression but it's really hard when his hands are massaging your hips so nicely and his cock is touching new spots inside you making your head all fuzzy. He smoothly lifts your thighs and flips you both over so that you're laying on your back and he's hovering above you.

It's such a glorious sight. This massive sexy otherworldly creature staring down at you with such lust. You can't stop yourself from pulling him in closer by the back of his neck and mumbling,

"Do demons kiss?"

The demon huffs again and opens his jaw showing his razor sharp teeth, from the darkness behind the skull comes three appendages, long and wet. Those are his tongues, and you moan a little when you realise that. He leans closer and the prehensile tongues worm their way to your mouth where you greet them, mouth ready and open. All three appendages slip into your mouth to explore and rub against your tongue, it's so messy and gross it makes you clench around his cock.

He grunts and thrusts into you, thrusting his tongues deeper into your mouth making you gag. You stick your head in his open maw, pulling him in closer by his thick horns. You take the tongues with vigor and suck on them like you would a cock. He seems to like this quite a bit as he grabs both your legs and pulls your knees up to your ears, bending you in half and presenting your dripping pussy to him. He starts thrusting his cock much deeper in your pussy than before while thrusting his tongues down your throat simultaneously.

The pleasure is so intense as he gradually speeds up, working up to a brutal pace. He fucks you into the floor, so deep, so good. It's so animalistic it makes you go feral. He tongue fucks your throat with fever, his dangerous maw wide open. Knowing that he could tear your flesh easily if he just closed his jaws around your head turns you on an unthinkable amount as you take his tongues deeper down your already full throat.

You want him deeper in your throat even as you choke and gag. You want him deeper in your pussy even as he pounds you raw and hard, reaching so deep he kisses your cervix. Your brain is mush and your thighs burn, you scratch and claw his back for some kind of grounding as you quickly reach your peak again.

He wraps his arms under your thighs and around your back to lift you up and squeeze you against his hot body. He pounds you even harder now with gravity on his side, forcing you down on his cock as he thrusts up in time.

Suddenly your body gets hot, he gets hot. His hold is like a hot vice and you struggle against it on instinct but he just holds you tighter. You almost scream when you feel a red hot flash in every artery and vein in your body. The heat is gone just as quickly as it came and you sigh in relief before looking up at him in shock when you suddenly realise what he just did.

His tongues leaves your mouth suddenly as he cums hard, groaning loudly as he fucks his seed deeper into your already soaked cunt. With your mouth free you groan like an snimal, tongue out, tears streaking down your face, spit running down your neck. You soak up the feeling of being folded in half and filled to the fucking brim by this demonic beast.

Your moans mix in the hot air between you. His cum is so thick and hot inside you, filling you up once again. You're so full you can't contain it all as it pours out of you and onto the floor. He gives a few slow, deep thrusts, milking his cock with your tight pussy as you lay limply in his hold.

You sit on the floor for a few minutes holding each other close and catching your breath. He nuzzles his head into your sweaty neck and moves your body into a more relaxed position so that he's hugging around your waist and your legs rest around his torso. You feel each other for a moment, his cock still plugging up your messy cunt. Hes quiet, like he's thinking about something. You're not sure you can even speak but if you could you don't really know what you would say.

He leans back to look at your face, you realise you probably look an absolute mess, tear streaked face with spit all over your mouth and chin. He looks into your eyes like he's looking for something specific and you look back into his two small flames. He slightly nods and then holds you close to his chest once more, enveloping you with his body.

He accepted the pact proposal.

You let out a breathless laugh and lean up to place wet kisses all over his skull head.

He growls low and irritable like a cat.

"That's not necessary."

He grumbles like he's annoyed but doesn't move away from you as you give a few more kisses along his jaw. His tail swishes idly behind him.

"Well neither was fucking me. Twice."

You tease him while reaching for your discarded hat and plopping it back on your head. You shakily stand up on wobbly legs, he holds his hands out to your hips to stabilise you. Cum drips out of your cunt and his gaze is drawn to where it oozes down your thighs.

"Not that I'm complaining."

You balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders and clear your throat, trying to seem a little put together as he stares up at you. You very casually lift your leg to rest it on his shoulder, presenting your puffy, dripping cunt to him.

"Are you the fuck and leave type or do you stay for the cleanup? "

The demon chuckles and opens his maw again, wet tongues slipping out and reaching for you, licking up your cum covered thighs and up to the source of the mess.

You're both going to make very good use of this pact.

[leclercsbunny]

maybe if you loved me ♡ c. sainz

part one ♡ masterlist

f1chai amid the silly season, carlos sainz and long time girlfriend y/n y/l/n have confirmed their break up in separate instagram posts claiming the split to be amicable and a mutual decision. although the reason for their breakup was never mentioned, it was alleged that the couple had issues involving a nameless third party in two separate ocassions.

more than the heavy weight of your luggage, there was an unsettling feeling of dread and restlessness slowly easing it's way into your chest. shoulders sagging, you passed the bag to the driver; mentally preparing yourself to face him. you felt shaky, emotional and the makings of a headache were making itself known— perhaps due to dehydration or the sweltering heat in mallorca that you've usually loved.

not in this very day though. today, it stung your skin. made your eyes squint, increasingly sensitive, what with the waterworks you've unleashed the night prior.

"uh.. i'm leaving." your voice was timid, while carlos shifted on his feet, stiff as a board. a day old stubble and his underbags were prominent. you both looked worse for wear, yet you couldn't find within yourself some comfort with that.

"i'm sorry, y/n..." he repeated the same phrase, as if a mantra now; but you refused to acknowledge his apologies, as you did the night before. if he was truly sorry, he wouldn't have wronged you. not once, not even twice. "i'm really sorry. i love you, i promise you that. i really do—"

"please carlos... i'm done. we're done. no amount of apologies could ever make up for what you did." you wipe your tears with trembling hands. you'd wanted to scream at his lying and cheating face, ask him why you weren't enough; why was he insisting that he loves you when he clearly, can't hold onto it?

you spent half a decade with this man. you love him beyond reason, without a doubt. and it was against every single will in your body, but your heart was aching for him.

yet you... had to leave some respect for yourself. you were going to walk out of his life with your dignity intact.

it was not easy to strip away every reminder of carlos in your life— you grew together, experienced and enjoyed the different things life had to offer.

there were certain quirks you learnt from him.

things you'd borrow off of eachother which had slowly transformed to this surprisingly tasteful blend of your styles.

it was not easy to unlearn those habits, and contain the urge to wear something of his favorite.

but it was more than difficult to face the one and only person in both of your lives that mattered the most.

the last thing you'd expected when you'd opened the door was reyes, clutching onto a tearful matteo. without thinking, you've opened your arms to the boy and he'd jumped into your arms unbashedly, whining out a wet cry.

you'd pursed your lips, looking towards the elder woman who's motherly gaze made your resolve weaken. you could also faintly see the tears in her eyes, and you could only muster a small smile.

you assumed his father had explained why you weren't around any longer; it had been six weeks since you've broken things off with carlos.

you rubbed matteo's back in hopes of comforting the boy, he'd been evidently upset, "he keeps saying he misses you." reyes explains softly.

your eyes closed briefly, attempting to stop the tears, "i missed you too, sweet boy." you whisper words of comfort to him, trying to ease his crying. his sobs eventually calmed down, but his hold on you never faltered.

"will you still be my mama?" came the weak and small voice. it made your chest tighten, and you tamper down a sob.

"only if you want me to be, matteo." you whisper back, pressing a kiss on his temple.

f1chai carlos sainz launches his new relationship with a steamy liplocking in public with mystery woman

[jaysswlvrr]

Whatever you want...

pairing☆ jungwon x reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

summary☆ you and jungwon makes a bet on who wins the game... if he loses you get to do whatever you want to do to jungwon... I think we both know what happened ;)

warnings☆ jerking of, touching, kissing, hickeys, pet names (baby, hun, princess) size kink (if you squint), unprotected at the end

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You laid next to jungwon, focusing on only the screen in front of you, only in a bra and joggers, about 5 minutes ago you made a bet with. " If he loses the game of Fortnite with his friends you could do whatever you want to him"

whatever you want...

So you laid there, staring at the pretty boy in front of you as he focused only on the game. You looked at the screen, seeing that jungwon was in the lead, you found a way to get him distracted. Slowly rubbing his thighs as he also had joggers on. Your hand went up, slipping it under his black, lose tank top, slowly tracing your fingers on his abs.

"babe wait a sec" he whispered, you whispered back an "ok" only carrying on what you were doing. Without doubt, his score started getting lower and you could hear heeseung on call cheering.

"what happend jungwon, you ok" he laughed

Jungwon gave you a look whilst you just smirked. You pouted your lips and widened you eyes mothing a 'sorry'. And before you knew it, the match had ended, heeseung hung up after teasing jungwon and you sat up slowly.

"Soooo jungwon" you spoke slowly.

You got off the bed, going to the drawer next to him and slowly pulled out handcuffs. You climbed on his lap, chuckling at his worried face.

"What happened wonnie I though I could do whatever I wanted"

You moved the sweaty strands of hair stuck on his forehead and took his hands at once, locking each of them in the handcuffs. Taking of your joggers to show your shorts that you wore under and then taking off jungwon's joggers, palming him, making him let out a helpless cry.

"When I start, you will do whatever I say right?" you said pulling the rest of his clothing of and slowly started stroking him.

"Y-yeah, whatever you want " you smirked up at him getting of him to position your mouth in front of his length, giving him kitten licks.

You started stroking him up and down with your small hands barely getting around the whole thing, enjoying everything whilst on the other hand he was helplessly moaning, brows furrowed the slightest bit, sweaty forehead and pouty lips.

You started going faster, and faster, thumb on his tip making his whimper, he was quickly reaching his release. But then you stopped just before anything could happen, hearing him cursing himself.

"What was that?, just wanna see your abs one more time" you pouted slowly lifting up his black tank top. You stared at the toned abs, he doesn't go to the gym but still has rock hard abs?

Woah

You stuck you tongue out, leaving long strand of saliva on his chest looking at his dreamy eyes the whole time.

"P-please touch me, I just wanna feel g-good." he whimpered out.

Oh he's now asking?

What a man whore, I thought it was whatever you wanted not him. Well ok we'll see.

You sat up once again, grabbing his length and quickly stroking him. His moaning came back, louder each time.

You kept your speed bending over to lick his base, then quickly putting his length in your mouth , keeping the same speed that you had with your hands. Bobbing your head as quick as you can, your realised jungwon kept moving, then slowly he started moving more and more, aggressively thrusting into your mouth, beads of tears rolling down as he length hit the back of your throat.

He was pleading for god knows what, begging for whatever, you couldn't hear him though. You hold his hips down as he release his seed, swallowing every bit.

"T-thank you baby" he spoke.

"Oh I'm not done yet"

You start stroking him as aggressively as possible him pleading you to stop, but still thrusting in your hands.

That makes sense.

He was moaning so loud now but still saying because it was "too much".

Oh this was going to be a long night...

[corrodedcorpses]

Boys on Film. Part iv

Pairing: PS!Steve x PS!Eddie x Virgin!reader

Summary: It's been a year since you last saw Eddie and Steve. The last place you expected to see them again for the first time was at a club while you were out with your new boyfriend. The night does not go how you imagined it at all.

Warnings: Smut (18+ MDNI), public sex (ish), fingering, angst, cheating (sorry)

Word count: 6.8K

a/n: I hope this kind of makes up for the ending of the last chapter but also I'm sorry in advance. (also as always a massive thank yous to my babies @andvys @wroteclassicaly @usedtobecooler @bimbobaggins69 for all of your help I love you all so much)

Taglist is closed but if you want an update on when I post the next chapter you can follow my fic account @corrodedcorpsesfics and turn on notifications🖤

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4.5

Steve and Eddie stare at your closed door that had just been slammed in their face moments ago. It had all gone so wrong, so fast. Neither of them had meant for it to go that way or to fight like that with you. All of their (and your own) long harboured emotions coming out during the fight, all of the love turning into hate in order to protect your hearts from - what you all assumed - would no doubt be rejection. 

Eddie is the first to break eye contact with your door. Scoffing and walking toward his van as Steve leans his head on the door, closing his eyes trying to will you to open it again. He’s almost sure he can hear tiny sobs coming from the other side and it feels like his heart is breaking all over again. 

He can hear Eddie behind him, pacing and grumbling out “shit”, “fuck” and mumbling “that was so stupid” over and over again. Steve is frozen in place, he knows as soon as he breaks away from your door that it’s all over, that he’ll have to face the reality of what just happened. He doesn’t know if he can do that yet. 

A loud smack, that was obviously Eddie’s palm hitting his car, finally jolts Steve out of his self pity. He finally turns to him, watching as Eddie continues to pace and mumble expletives under his breath, his ringed fingers running through his hair with so much force Steve thinks he’s about to rip it all out. 

“Eddie,” he tries, too quietly as the other man doesn’t stop. 

He glances at your door one more time before sighing and walking up to Eddie. 

“Eddie,” he says more firmly, standing next to where he continues to pace, “come on man-”

“Don't you ‘come on man’ me,” Eddie interrupts, whipping around to finally look at Steve,  “what the fuck was that, Harrington.” 

Steve flinches at the use of his last name, something Eddie only uses to tease or hurt him. 

“What the fuck was what, Munson?” Steve throws his own surname back at him with just as much venom, Eddie squinting his eyes into a glare. 

“All that,” Eddie explains, wildly gesturing to your house, “bullshit you pulled in there. ‘At least you wouldn’t have been a virgin in your twenties’,” he mocks what Steve had said to you. 

“The bullshit I pulled?” Steve almost shouts back, “What about you, huh?” He asks, a finger poking into Eddie’s chest to reiterate his point. “You didn’t break that shit to her gently at all! No wonder she went straight into ‘defence mode’.”

 Eddie just rolls his eyes at him, even though he knows Steve's right. 

The action only angers Steve more. “I wasn’t even in that stupid argument until you dragged me in with your bullshit about hanging out with King Steve.” 

Eddie visibly cringes at the memory of using Steve’s old title, one he knew Steve loathed and has done years of work to be anything but. But, Eddie couldn’t let Steve ‘win’ the argument. If he did he would have to admit that all of this was his fault. 

“Whatever,” Eddie scoffs, “the argument only turned nasty as soon as you put your 2 cents in! The shit you said was just—” Eddie pauses, remembering how Steve had teased him for not ‘making a move’ on you sooner, saying everyone thought you were Eddie’s ‘property’ during high school, outing him for scaring away anyone that dared to get close to you because he knew that weren’t good enough for you, “mean.”

Eddie whispers the last word. The only word he could come up with to express how he felt, how that whole argument transported him right back to his teenage years, something he truly thought he had gotten over from the help of you and Steve. Something he obviously was far from getting over. 

Steve’s demeanour changes, he can see the hurt in Eddie’s eyes, the sliver of vulnerability that he’s been hiding behind his rage. He understands the weight that one word holds.

“I didn’t intend for it to be mean, I just, I don’t know, it just–-” he’s taken aback, stuttering through some sort of an explanation, but there isn’t one. He was mean. 

“It’s like you wanted to hurt her,” Eddie continues, but he doesn’t mean just you, “hurt me.” He whispers so softly, he’s sure Steve wouldn’t even hear him. But Steve does.

“What? Why would I want to hurt someone I love!” Steve says too quickly in response, eyes widening when he realises what he just said, what he just confessed to Eddie. But when he looks at Eddie he only sees hurt in his eyes. 

Eddie still doesn’t think Steve heard him say ‘hurt me’, so he takes Steve’s confession as a confession of love for you, not you and him. 

Eddie just laughs with no humour, shaking his head. “I was fucking right, I fucking knew you hadn’t changed – you’re such an asshole, man.” 

The cogs in Eddie’s head turn, thinking back to how Steve had said all those things against him, no doubt finally seeing his opportunity to put a wedge between you both, so Steve could finally have you all to himself.

Steve just stares at him in shock as whatever fragments of his heart that were left break even further. He didn’t think Eddie loved him back but there was some part of him that had hoped, that had at least thought Eddie would be nice about it, gentle with his heart even if he didn’t want to keep it.  

He didn’t think Eddie would laugh in his face and call him an asshole. 

“Wow,” Steve says to himself in disbelief, “okay.” He feels the tears well up in his eyes as his chest physically aches from all of the heartbreak tonight. He doesn’t want Eddie to see him break down, he'd no doubt laugh at his misery. 

He starts to walk away from Eddie, it’s the only thing he can think to do. It’s only a couple of miles to his house, the air isn’t too cold and it’s not too late — he can easily just walk home, he thinks. 

“Steve?” Eddie questions as the other boy starts to hurry away from him, “Steve!” He tries again, an air of worry in his voice as he calls out, “Seriously? You’re just gonna walk away from me too huh?” Eddie yells. 

“Whatever man,” Steve yells back, already at the end of your driveway, stopping only when his shoes hit the road to look back at Eddie, “you basically just rejected me so, I don’t need this shit anymore.” Steve spits, mentally cursing the way his voice wobbles as he says it. He continues down the road, needing to get as much distance between him and Eddie before he can finally break down. 

“What?” Eddie says too quietly, he realises when Steve doesn’t respond, “rejected you?” he shouts this time. But still Steve doesn’t stop. 

“Steve! Would you — shit,” Eddie curses. He’s so confused about what Steve meant, he’s so confused about this whole evening but he needs to know. The tiny sliver of his heart that is holding onto hope needs to know what Steve meant. 

Eddie runs around to the drivers side and launches himself into his van. Cursing when the engine turns over way too many times before it finally roars to life. He swings out of the driveway like a madman, thanking the universe that you live on a quiet street. 

He catches up with Steve quickly, slowing the van down until he’s driving right beside him. He’s happy he never listened to you and Steve about needing to roll his windows up. 

“Steve, would you just stop,” Eddie pleads. 

“No,” is all Steve replies.  

“Steve,” Eddie pleads exasperatedly, “what did you mean?”

But Steve doesn’t answer and he doesn't stop walking. He hopes if he ignores Eddie long enough that he will just leave him alone.

And he thinks his plan worked when Eddie suddenly drives forwards down the road. But, those hopes are shattered when Eddie parks a little bit ahead of Steve and hops out. 

Steve finally stops walking as he sees Eddie running towards him. He should just turn around and walk away, circle back around at the other end of your street, it’s a longer way to walk but at least he wouldn’t have to see Eddie. But he doesn’t, his feet won’t let him move. He sees Eddie rushing towards him and his whole body aches for Eddie to just hold him as he breaks down and melts into his arms.  

When Eddie finally gets to Steve he’s quick to invade his space, cupping his face tenderly in both of his hands. Eddie searches Steve’s eyes, he can see the unshed tears threatening to spill, the hurt and the tiny bit of hope Steve also holds. It’s enough for Eddie to ask again, even if it could mean more heartache. 

“Steve,” he whispers so tenderly, it makes Steve’s knees almost buckle, makes it even harder to not just fall at Eddie’s feet and beg him to love him back, “what did you mean?”

Steve swallows, hard. He looks into Eddie’s big, brown, pleading eyes. He knows he’s about to get his heart smashed, completely obliterated when he explains himself, but he can’t stop his mouth from moving. God, he would do anything Eddie asked while he cradled his face so delicately and looked at him like that. 

“I basically just told you I wanted you,” he whispers, eye’s never leaving Eddie’s “a-and you just told me to, to get fucked.” He closes his eyes trying to will his tears to stay at bay, the last sentence coming out all wobbly as he tries to stop his bottom lip from trembling. 

“Steve…” Eddie says in a way that has Steve opening his eyes again. He’s met with confusion and yearning swimming in Eddie’s beautiful brown orbs. “You want me?” Eddie asks in disbelief, “I - I thought you were talking about her!” It comes out like a question, like a plea. 

“I was,” Steve says, and he can see Eddie’s eyes start to fall, feel his hands on his cheeks loosen, Steve is quick to grab Eddie’s wrists, keeping his hands on his cheeks before quickly continuing, “I was talking about both of you, idiot.” He says the last word fondly, with a hint of a smile dancing on his still trembling lips.

Eddie can’t help but return a small smile of his own. Steve wants him too. He leans forward to capture Steve’s lips with his own. It’s the only thing he can think to do in the moment, the only thing his body will let him do. Steve returns the kiss immediately. It’s soft, so soft that it sears their lips, all of the passion and pent up feelings and anger from the last hour coming out in the way their lips and tongue dance together so slowly. 

Eddie finally pulls back after they’ve run out of air, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “I like you too,” he whispers, just in case it wasn’t obvious, revelling in the way it makes Steve smile, “I like you both too.”

Steve pulls back to look at Eddie properly, he can see the mix of happiness and regret all over Eddie’s face. 

“Oh.” Steve says. It’s all he can say, he sees the whole argument differently now, sees how stupid they both had been. He realises why Eddie said and did what he did and regrets the things he said to him. Knowing how much more they would have hurt now. 

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Eddie replies. 

“We're idiots.” Steve sighs. 

“Yep.” Eddie agrees. 

“Should we… go back inside?” Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head knowingly, “give her some time, trust me.” 

He thinks back to all the times you showed up at his trailer door, sheepishly asking if you could spend the day or the night or the weekend when you were upset. Always claiming to need space from your family after you fought. Eddie never realising what you needed wasn’t space, what you needed was him. 

But you never told him that. 

So, they do give you time. They give you a day to cool off, to sit with your thoughts before they call, but are only met with silence in return. They try again a day later — and again another day after that. They try to go over to your house a week later but you’re either not there or are pretending not to be. 

They try again and again and again until trying every day turns into every two days, which turns into trying every week, which turns into trying every now and then over the next couple of months. The last time they tried was months later when they had had a particularly rough day and just needed you. 

All of this was met with silence. 

You weren’t sure what you expected when you kicked them out, but you hadn’t expected them to just leave. You had expected them to at least come back later that night or the next day. 

Not call you late the next night like that would make up for anything and you didn’t expect it to take them a full week of calling before coming over to try and see you. 

All of this just seemed to cement the idea in your head that they didn’t care about you as much as you'd been stupid enough to believe they did. 

You didn’t realise how upset and borderline distraught this had also made them. You didn’t realise how upset they were after every failed attempt. How they had both sat on the kitchen floor in their new apartment months later and cried, surrounded by half unpacked boxes after that final time they tried, and failed, to call. Because none of this felt right without you.  

And they didn’t realise how you’d done the exact same thing on the floor in your kitchen that night, cursing yourself for not just picking up the damn phone this time.  

******* 

You hold the two dresses up against your body, one at a time. Trying to decide between the black — tight, revealing and super uncomfortable or the dusty pink — a stark contrast, more modest, cute and comfortable. 

You’d spent the last hour getting ready for your date with your boyfriend of about 6 months, Bradley. He was… nice… and fun… and, well, a good distraction. It was nice to feel needed. But, you know deep down that it ultimately won’t go anywhere.  

There’s just something… missing. A spark? Passion? Familiarity? The fact that he’s not Eddie or Steve?

You groan at yourself for even having that thought, dropping the dresses back on your bed as your eyes land on the picture on your dresser next to your mirror. It’s a cute photo of you, Eddie and Steve, faces squished together and giant smiles plastered on your faces. A photo you still can’t bring yourself to get rid of. 

You sigh and flip it over as you seem to before every date, the picture somehow making you feel guilty. As if the two people in the photo hadn’t completely broken your heart. But you know you’ll just put it back to its original position as soon as you get home again. 

You shake yourself out of your thoughts, before you make the mistake of going down that black hole of missing them once again. You decide to just go for the revealing, uncomfortable dress — knowing Bradley would probably like it more, praise you for showing off the curves you mostly hid from him. 

You’ll hopefully be too drunk to feel the discomfort anyway. 

*****

The club is loud and packed when you arrive with Bradley, the bass and the stench of spilled sugary drinks overwhelming. You clutch the strap of the purse that’s across your chest nervously, there’s a split second where you want to turn around, hightail it out of there and cuddle up at home by yourself instead. You from a year ago would’ve, but you’re not that same person anymore. 

“Drinks?” He yells at you over the music. He’s at least courteous enough to keep a tight arm around your waist, hugging you in close to shield you slightly from the rowdy party goers who already had one too many to drink. 

“Please,” you yell back before you both make your way to the bar. Winding through the growing crowd of rowdy people, his hand heavy on your skin, feeling out of place. 

You rest your forearms against the bar, wincing at the sticky feeling underneath. You watch as the bartenders flit around, making the various overpriced, overly sweet drinks for the other patrons who arrived long before you. 

Your eyes wander as you wait, taking in the neon signs behind the bar, the shelves of alcohol with countless cheap labels, smiling as you see two girls overly excited to see each other, the guys next to you obviously getting rejected by the girls standing in front of them, the couple that can't seem to keep their hands off each other at the very end of the bar –- wait. 

Wait.

You stare at the couple for longer than you should. Your brain taking a second to catch up with your eyes. You can only see the back of the guy as you take in his dark clothes, the chain bracelet on his wrist, the tattoos littered along his pale skin, the bats adorning his forearm, the long mop of curly brown hair- No. No no no no no. 

Eddie?

Your head starts to spin, and not just from the overwhelming atmosphere of the club. Why is he here? Why now? Why is he with a girl? You curse yourself for even thinking that last part and for the pang of jealousy in your chest. You’re here with your boyfriend, you can’t be getting jealous of the guy who broke your heart being here with some other girl. 

Even if he was your best friend for all of highschool, the only person who got you through that hell hole, one of the only people you’ve ever truly trusted, truly loved, who you definitely still love more than your own boyfriend as much as you try to pretend you don't, whose back is doing more things for you than your boyfriend has the whole time you’ve been dating, who kisses so much better than him, who looks really good right now kissing… Steve?!   

It’s only then that Eddie turns slightly, giving you a glimpse of the ‘mystery girl’. You feel like you’re gonna be sick. What are they doing? Here? Together? God they look so good. 

All thoughts fail you as you’re mesmerised watching them. The way their bodies press against each other, how Eddie has both hands lazily in Steve's back pockets as Steve's hands fist the front of Eddie’s shirt. Your cunt aches at the way their lips move together as though they’ve done this a thousand times. 

They probably have done this a thousand times, you realise. They way they are standing, so relaxed with each other, like there's no hurry to the makeout session, like they have all night.  

You're confused and hurt as you watch them. You can’t help but wonder if they’re together, they make a hot couple afterall. But you can’t help the awful feelings that that realisation arises. All of your fears from a year ago come flooding back, you were right. They never wanted you.  

Before you can fully spiral you see Bradley’s hand wave in front of your face, it’s then that you realise he’s been talking to you and you see a stressed bartender give you a forced yet polite smile, as they wait for you to tell them what you want. 

“Hello? y/n?” He asks, concerned. 

“Huh?” You reply, dumb, unable to take your eyes off of them — it’s all your brain can come up with as a response, too absorbed in the scene taking place just feet from you.

“What would you like?” He asks, like he’s already asked you multiple times. You rip your eyes away from them, focusing on Bradley’s face that’s still soft and full of admiration, as if you hadn’t been actively ignoring him. As if time hadn’t just stood still, as you watched on in what could only be described as devastation.

“Oh-- ah-- just my usual,” you say finally, glancing back at Eddie and Steve. Watching as Steve’s hand curls into Eddie's hair, it’s longer now, you realise. I wonder if it would still be as soft or if - you shake that image out of your head. “Maybe some shots? Patreon or tequila, you like both right?” You add quickly.

Bradley seems surprised but compiles, ordering one of his own. You take the small glass in your hand, bringing it up to your lips, the strong smell already paralysing, before downing it as fast as you can. You make the mistake of glancing at Eddie and Steve again as you do, finding yourself making eye contact with Steve, realising they’re both looking at you now. You almost choke on the drink in your mouth, wincing at how the liquid burns more than usual as it slides down your throat. 

You grab your drink and Bradley's hand, quickly leading him to the dancefloor. Needing to get as much space between you and the boys as possible. 

Eddie and Steve watch you take the other guy's hand with dark eyes. You spare a glance back seeing Steve’s angry eyes as Eddie whispers something in his ear. 

Angry? What does he have to be angry about? 

You weave in and out of the crowd as they stumble and bump into you, the alcohol making them stagger on their feet and spill their drinks haphazardly on the floor. The further you get lost into the sea of people the more you try to shake Steve and Eddie out of your head, determined to still have a good time despite the anxiety that has wrapped its way around your chest. 

Once you’re almost in the centre of the dancefloor, safely concealed by the thrawl of dancers, you turn to your boyfriend. You pull him in close, rocking your hips to the sound of the music and giving him a forced smile. 

You dance with him for a while, getting lost in the music as you feel the alcohol seep through your body. Although it does nothing to settle the ugly feeling deep in your stomach. As much as you try you can’t help but spare little glances around the club, not being able to stop yourself from aching for just one more glance at them. 

You finally see them, startled by the fact that they’re only a couple of people away from you. Steve is the only one actually dancing but Eddie is happily swaying with him, more than content with and touching Steve and placing gentle kisses all over his neck. Your chest tightens further at the need to tease Eddie about finally dancing, the realisation that you can’t joke with him like that anymore and the jealousy that he would come out to the dancefloor with Steve, even though he never would for you. 

As these ugly emotions swirl around your stomach you realise they’re both watching you, stealing glances the same way you are, but a lot less subtly. Your blood boils at the looks they're giving you, they seem hurt and angry and almost… sad? They have no right to. 

You turn your attention back to Bradley, you make out and grind against him, every now and then looking at them both and winking when you see them clench their jaws. 

You’re confused as you continue your show. What do they have to be angry about? Why do they even care that you’re dancing with someone that isnt them? There was a time when they could’ve had you, a time when you would’ve done anything for them but they were the ones who threw you away. They have no right to be angry now. 

Bradley leans down to whisper in your ear, you’re hopeful that he’s going to say something hot, a compliment or something, instead he lets you know he’s going to get more drinks, leaving you alone in the crowd before you can say anything else. You try to not look anxious about being alone in such a dense crowd of strangers, knowing Bradley is going to take a long time with how packed it is. 

You find some comfort knowing that Steve and Eddie are close by, although you’re not sure why. You decide to continue dancing, doing the most to look as hot and unbothered as possible, but when you spare another glance at Steve and Eddie you’re surprised to find they’ve also gone. It’s weird how their absence has made you feel more alone than Bradley’s. 

You start to leave, deciding to head outside for some fresh air before going to find Bradley where he’s no doubt still waiting at the bar. That is, until you feel hands lightly on your waist. You start to panic, until you hear the stranger whisper in your ear. 

“Hey there, little one.”

Eddie. 

Your body shudders at hearing his voice again. You have to fight every nerve in your body to not melt back into him, turn around and wrap your arms around him and cry into his chest. But you don’t, you're frozen in place instead. 

“We liked that little show you put on for us, sweetheart,” he continues as you feel his hands massage small circles in your hips as he presses himself closer to you, you can feel the outline of his semi against your ass and it takes everything in you not to moan at the feeling. 

He starts to rock you both to the music before pressing gentle kisses along your neck. So feather light you’re not sure if you’re actually imagining them, just some mean trick your mind is playing on you. You start to melt back against him, your body betraying you as it’s automatically drawn into the safety of Eddie’s chest and arms. 

You let yourself get caught up in the feeling before reality comes crashing down. You have a boyfriend, he has a boyfriend, you can’t be doing this. You snap out of the weird trance you’ve been in, pulling away from Eddie and finally turning to face him, fully preparing yourself to tell him off before you see the look on his face. 

It causes your breath to hitch as you see the pure lust written all over his face, his blown and glassy pupils staring into your soul and the possessiveness buried deep inside them that makes your thighs clench. 

You go to take a step back, needing space between you both but your back collides with another chest instead. Another set of lips brushing your ear as they whisper lowly to you.  

“Don't be like that, honey.” 

Steve. 

Your head swims at the proximity of both of them. The familiar smells and feel of them crumbling whatever stubborn exterior you were trying to portray. 

You feel Steve's hands run along the sides of your waist and down your thighs before tracing light patterns back up again, your dress pulling up at the sides as he does. He pushes against you as Eddie had, although he is a lot more worked up from your little show than Eddie was — a testament to how he always was more of the jealous type. 

“Can you feel what your little show did to us baby?” He asks like you’ve wounded them. Eddie pushing against you at the same time. “You’re so fucking naughty, getting us all worked up like that.”

“Anything to say for yourself, miss?” Eddie asks when you don’t respond right away. How could you? Your head feels like it's about to spin off your shoulders, your cunt feels like it’s about to start dripping down your thighs, they’ve thoroughly wrecked you with no more than some gentle touches, barely any grinding and a couple of words whispered seductively in your ears. 

You only manage a small moan in response, one that you’re thankful only they can hear over the loud music. 

They both chuckle at your response, knowing they have you right where they want you. Loving how fucking easy you are for them. 

Steve’s fingers continue to dance along your thighs as Eddie’s hand comes to rest on your waist again, both of them pressing into you and swaying you to the music, causing their hardening cocks to grind against you.  

Steve's fingers slide to the front of your dress, tracing up the inside of your thighs as you let out a little whimper. Steve smirks against your skin as he starts to kiss up your throat as Eddie had just before. Your eyes start to flutter shut as Steve’s fingers inch higher, so close to where you desperately need him. 

“That feel nice, pretty girl?” Steve asks, although he already knows the answer, “want me to keep going?” 

Eddie keeps his eyes trained on your blissed out face, sucking on his bottom lip as he anxiously waits for your answer. 

You nod your head slowly, words failing you as you melt back into Steve. 

“Ah, ah,” Eddie tuts, “you know the rules princess, use your words.” 

“P-please.” You barely breathe out, and Eddie’s sure he would’ve missed it if his eyes weren't glued to your lips. 

He nods at Steve, who groans as his fingers finally make contact with your dripping cunt, feeling the slick that’s soaked through your panties. 

Eddie holds your waist tighter, half keeping you upright as your legs start to shake, half shielding you from any onlookers as he continues to sway his hips, making it look like you three were just dancing.

Steve dips his fingers into your underwear, moaning in your ear as he gathers your slick on his thick fingers before rubbing your clit.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he teases, “this is all for us huh?”

You can only nod and whine in response, too far gone to be embarrassed by how close they were getting you already. No one except for Steve and Eddie have been able to get you this close this fast. 

You feel the coil in your stomach tighten further as Steve's thick digits breach your aching cunt, finding a steady pace immediately, his palm dragging deliciously over your slick clit. Eddie’s grip on your waist becomes so tight you’re sure he’s gonna leave bruises that you’re going to have to try and explain to Bradley later, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re happy that he’s at least holding you somewhat upright as your knees start to get weak. 

Eddie presses further into you still to keep you upright, so far that Steve can feel Eddie’s hard cock pulsing against his hand even through his jeans. Making Steve’s cock ache for some sort of release as he starts to rock gently into your ass. Craving some relief. 

You feel the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching as you teeter on the edge. Only able to get out small sputters of “I’m, I’m—” before you’re burying your face in the crook of Eddie’s neck as your orgasm comes crashing into you. 

Your ears ring and your vision goes white as you ride out your orgasm around Steve’s fingers, rutting against his hand while clinging to Eddie. 

When you finally start to come down from your high you’re barely aware of the music still blaring around you, focusing only on Steve’s hands rubbing soothing circles in your thighs, Eddie’s hand in your hair and their praises gently flowing through your ears. 

Suddenly, reality hits you like a truck. Completely cracking the walls of whatever weird dream you’ve been trapped in with Eddie and Steve. Suddenly everything seems too much, their touch is suffocating and grating against your skin, the music of the club is blaring too loud, rocking your skull and their sweet whispers might as well be screams in your ear. 

You need to get away. 

You finally look at Eddie, his eyes meeting yours. He knows that look. 

“y/n-,” he tries as you start to squirm out of their grip. 

“Let me go”, you suddenly hiss at him, finally breaking free and rushing through the crowd and out the door. You hear them yell after you, but you keep going, their voices being drowned out by the music the further you get away from them. 

By the time you finally make it outside you feel as if you can hardly breathe. Your chest is so tight and you struggle to take shallow breaths, you can feel the unshed tears prick your eyes as you try and will them to keep at bay. Although you’re not sure why, you’re almost certain your makeup must be a mess now, most of it left on Eddie’s collar, you doubt a couple of tears would really make much of a difference. 

You shakily reach into the clutch still thankfully secured across your chest, fishing out a smoke. You put one between your lips as you try, but fail to find your lighter. You sigh in frustration, of course you’ve lost your lighter. 

“Here, let me.” You hear someone whisper, before you see the flicker of a lighter in front of your lips. You don’t have to look up from your clutch to know that it’s Eddie. Your eyes meet his timid ones as you lean forward, using the flame to light the end of your cigarette. 

“Thanks,” you mumble before looking beside Eddie, realising Steve also followed you out here. 

You all stand in awkward silence, Eddie busying himself by lighting his own cigarette. 

“I– ah,” Steve finally breaks the silence. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he needs you to hear, but the words won't form, instead he opts for, “didn’t know you smoked.” 

You snort half a laugh, shaking your head. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say but it definitely wasn't that. Sorry would have been a good start… but at least you’re talking, you guess. 

“There’s a lot you both don’t know about me anymore,” you reply, deadpan. You see them both visibly flinch at the implication of your words. It's been over a year since they last saw you, you've had a whole year's worth of experiences without them, would they even recognise the person you'd become? 

You bring your smoke back up to your lips, thankful for the distraction it provides and for how it's almost calming most of your nerves. 

It doesn't, however, distract you enough to not feel their hungry eyes on you. You're surprised your dress doesn't have holes burnt into the fabric with how hot and heavy their gazes are. You adjust your dress with your free hand trying to pull the fabric down, cursing yourself now for wearing the revealing dress. 

You don’t want them to see you squirm, you need to keep up this teasing, nonchalant act you were trying to portray, you couldn't let them know how much seeing them again was hurting you. 

“See something you like?” You slur seductively at them, not shying away from their eyes. Even as your palms sweat and your heart rattles in your chest. 

They both chuckle and shake their heads, not in disagreement but at the absurdity of your question. Of course they did. You looked stunning, confident. In a dress you usually would be too shy to wear. It was nice to see you like this, but it was also weird. 

Not weird in a bad way, it just hurt. It hurt them to see that you finally seemed to be growing into yourself and hopefully finally seeing how beautiful you were. Except it was without them. 

“You seem… different,” Eddie finally managed. He couldn't think of a better way to put it. Not better, not worse, just different. But that's what heartbreak will do to a person. 

“I am different.” You say back, no hidden meaning behind it, like it’s that simple. 

They were different. You were different. You’d just grown away from each other. You’d all changed and grown in the year that had passed, in the year that you had all ached for each other. Now here you were, and it felt like you were talking to strangers. 

You had a picture of them on your dresser that you saw everyday, and yet it felt like those two men were different from the ones that stood in front of you now. 

It makes your whole body ache. 

You want to fill the silence, distract yourself from the heavy feeling. You want to mess with them, annoy them, make them even more jealous and angry and hurt than they’ve already seemed to have been tonight. 

“Trust me,” you say finally, “I’ve had lots of experience since you last saw me.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively, trying to joke around with them as if it’s no big deal. 

You see their jaws clench. Eddie fights the urge to scoff at you, to roll his eyes, to scream in your face. Steve is a little better at hiding his distaste at what you’re insinuating. Both knowing they have no right to feel as hurt and betrayed as they do right now. 

You’re not theirs. 

“Well, they must be some lucky guys then.” Eddie tries to speak sincerely. It comes out like venom. 

“Hmm,” you hum, revelling in their reactions. Trying to think of what else you can say to rile them up like this. “And girls,” you say with a wink. 

Lies, it’s all lies. 

You had drunkenly kissed one girl out the back of a club after too many drinks. She was nice and soft and tasted like vodka and raspberries. But that was it… just a kiss. 

The furthest you’d gotten with your current boyfriend was some grinding and heavy touches. Always stopping before it got too far. He was always respectful of that, something you appreciated. 

They look at you stunned. You could see their brains working a mile a minute. You could tell they were imagining something much more lewd than reality. Victory. 

Desperate for this conversation to be over before they pried and realised you were talking all of your experiences up to be something much more, you stomp out your cigarette. Giving them a small smile that said ‘are we done here?’ as you started to walk away. 

Before you can get too far you feel a hand desperately grasp your arm. You know it’s Steve before you even turn around. 

You see his mouth open as he struggles to find the right words to say but you don’t want to hear it. You can’t. 

“Don’t,” you interrupt, before he can even say a single word. His mouth closes as his hand reluctantly lets go of your arm, brushing the skin of your forearm as he drops his hand. You curse your body for the goosebumps that appear along the trail of his fingertips. 

You’re about to turn around again when you decide to ask them just one thing. Something that’s been weighing heavy on you since you first saw them at the bar. 

“So, um,” you start tentatively, rubbing your hand over the arm that Steve had just touched, unsure if you’re trying to warm yourself up or wipe away the memory of his fingertips, “how long have you been dating?” 

They share a look before Eddie slowly mumbles, “a little over a year.” 

A little over a year. 

The same amount of time since your fight. The guilty looks on their faces let you know it was very shortly after they broke your heart. So while you were alone, completely breaking and having to put yourself back together again all by yourself, they were just having the time of their lives? Starting a new and exciting relationship? Typical. 

“Of course you have been,” you scoff. Turning abruptly and stalking away from them as fast as your stupidly uncomfortable heels would let you. 

“Y/n wait! It’s not like tha–“ Steve calls after you, desperately trying to catch you before you run off once again. Like he’s worried this time you’ll be gone for good.

“Just leave me alone!” You practically yell. You feel bad for raising your voice and how it makes them flinch but finally, they let you go. 

*****

Taglist: @pxrxcxa @eddiemunsonfuxks @translatemunson @bandofoxxking @munsonsbaby @corrodedhawkins @chainsawmunson @divinelyruled @parkermunson @bimbobaggins69 @eddiemunsonspantschain @hammity-hammer

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[theysaidhush]

Pick Me

➝ YouCan'tSeeItButIt'sThere!OT8 x 9thMember!Reader, 00's line x Reader ➝ You and the 00's try to discuss who's the most 'pick me' in the group. ➝ crack?, suggestive ➝ wc. 1k

It started off like a joke, really. You were just joking around, enjoying the company, when the topic of 'pick me' came around. To be honest, you weren't one to make fun of others. After all, you do not know what's happening in someone's life. Maybe they are just craving attention - which they obviously are, and they don't know how to voice it. So you just smiled and nodded whenever your opinion was needed.

Jisung was probably the most passionate one in this discussion, shaking his arms and rising his voice whenever someone pointed out that he was the most likely to be a pick me - in your group of friend, that is. But it was a real blast to make fun of him and tease him for his small quirks and habits.

"Hey! Why aren't you defending your bestie!" he turned towards you, eyebrows furrowed and fists tighten in a deadly grip around Hyunjin forearms. Was he trying to fight the taller boy? Maybe, and you weren't going to help him, or else the both of you would end up on your ass if Hyunjin calls Chan.

"Who? Me? Nah, I don't have any bestie, sorry."

The look of pure betrayal on the boy's face was one that you saw on a daily basis. In fact, Jisung was probably one of the only person who could compete against Hyunjin for the title 'who's-the-most-dramatic'. So you just laughed behind your sleeve and watched your self-proclaimed ex-bestie getting his ass beaten by Hyunjin - serves him right, no bestie would want his friend to get whooped.

"See? Starting a fight and then yapping and calling for help, he definitely is the 'pick me' of our group!"

"I'm a babygirl, that's different!"

"Said who?"

Felix's voice was trembling just as much as the accusatory finger pointed at his soul-twin. The accusation did not feel like one coming from his mouth, yet Jisung gasped - you feared he was going to choke on his saliva.

"How dare you!"

How dare he, in fact, when he was second on the podium of 'pick me'. If the way he looks at you meant something, he definitely knew that, and he was hoping that his involvement in this conversation would fade and disappear just like Jisung's ego when he yelped like a ten years old girl as Hyunjin kicked his ankles - so much for going to the gym with 3Racha.

Felix's bright smile was enough to wipe your memory. Did he just threw his friend to the wolf? Who, Felix? No, look at that smile of his, he could never. But, then, you started to doubt it. Would he have done the same if you were in Jisung's situation? Would he have pointed at you with his small finger and pursued lips? You squinted your eyes, looking at his. He just looked back at you, smiling even more brightly. No, Felix can't do that, you're just being dramatic.

As if sensing your - humoristic - internal debate, he puffed his cheeks and made grabby hands towards you, inviting you into his warm embrace.

"Look at him! Look at! That Gremlin is trying to steal my girl while I'm being killed by this atrocious human being!"

"Oi, she was my girl first?"

Well, you had nothing to say, Felix was kinda right. You ignored your Quokka's plead and crawled your way into the Australian's arms and sighed as you snuggled in his chest. His warmth could save you in the coldest night, he lived up to his nickname. His hug was so soft that you did not notice his roaming hands slowly making their way toward your chest.

"Put on a show, we'll put ours."

"I wanna join, it's unfair!"

"Don't mind him, he's just trying to save his ass. Moron."

Oh, the opportunity was too great to pass upon. You were going to kill two birds with one stone. So you clumsily got up on your feet - almost stepping on Felix's hard on while doing so, and everyone turned towards you. Well, Jisung tried, being in a headlock quite prevent him from doing so. And then it was your turn to point an accusatory finger at someone in the room. Hyunjin.

"I'm gonna tell Chan you said that!"

Oh dear. You might have overestimated your capacities. You really thought that being on your feet while Hyunjin was on the floor would do you good. You really thought that you could be faster than someone like him, someone whose reflexes were otherworldly. And you could have succeeded! If it weren't for Seungmin. Kim fucking SeungMin. That traitor. Let alone the fact that Hyunjin's quick hand caught your ankle, making you fall miserably on the ground as he climbed over your body and sat on the back of your thighs, his hand muffling your pleas. But what happened? Seungmin wasn't even in the room!

While you were having a chat with the twin sunshine and your favorite Picasso in a bedroom, the other members were just minding their own business in other parts of the apartment. So you did not expected Seungmin, of all people, to stand in the doorframe - Chan send him to tell you to quiet. What is he? A little brother who has to do his older brother's chores? Spoiler alert: yes, he is. But thankfully, what he found in yours and Felix's shared bedroom was really entertaining - Jisung in a headlock was always entertaining. So he just watched chaos unfold. He heard Hyunjin say ass and moron, watched you get on your feet, ready to snitch on him in order to save your little, poor and hopeless boyfriend, only to watch your face fall when he smirked at you and shut the door on your face.

Seungmin might have heard a muffled scream coming from behind the door. He might have heard Felix praying for your soul and Jisung get his ass whooped a second time. He might have heard something crash and then the bed creak. But he only smirked and headed towards the kitchen. Any other day he wouldn't have missed on the opportunity of watching Hyunjin get scolded by Chan, or watch you being ruined because of your 'bad behavior'. But he was still salty because of what happened a few minutes ago. Seriously, who sends him, a grown ass man, to tell dumb dumber dumbest and dumberest to shut up?

[0oolookitsme]

So Despicable

Type - A One-Shot (yet again!)

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 2.1k

Warnings - Uses of degrading slurs such as slut and whore. Do not read if that's not your cup of tea!

A/n - Legit posting this an hour late and I'm sorry! I just finished proofreading and am right away posting this. Not exactly my best, but it's good! Hoping you'll think the same hahah <3

Kinks - Sir Kink, Degradation Kink, Choking and Begging (if you squint)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Please rb to share!

As she turned the lock of her house, Y/n felt like her knees would simply give out if it took one more second to get the door to open. On the final twist of the key, she pushed the door open and immediately swung her purse on top of the shoe rack.

Bending to undo her heels, she left them thrown there and walked further inside the house. She was confused when she didn't find Harry downstairs but nevertheless poured herself a glass of water.

If he weren't down here, then he must be up in their bedroom or his office. Dreadfully, she climbed up the stairs, her shoulders droopy and her back aching after the long day. "Harry?" She called out, hoping that he would hear her and come out. Alas, he didn't.

She looked around in all the rooms before going inside the bedroom, dropping her body onto the mattress right away. After lying in silence for no more than a few seconds, she got up and fished her phone out of her purse �� pressing on Harry's contact before putting the phone on speaker and stripping her clothes.

"'ello?" He answered, his voice serious in a way that made her doubt if he didn't know it was her on the other end of the call.

"Where are you, H?" She questioned him right away, picking the phone back up when the only clothings on her body were her under garments. "Searched the whole house, didn't find you."

It was silent for a moment, and Y/n felt that something was off. "I'm in the gym, didn't hear you come in," he said in that same tone and it was starting to make her skin crawl.

"Oh, I didn't check the gym. When are you going to be done?" She asked, fidgeting with her fingers as her mind raced a million miles per second to come up with all the things that she could've done or said wrong.

Yet, she came up empty. Harry wasn't the one to go to gym after noon, it happened rarely – mostly if he had been out and about during the morning time. So, it was clear that he was avoiding her.

"Dunno, should be done in half an hour," he said and she could tell he was doing push ups or something else by the sound of his strained voice and heavy breathing.

"Okay, I'm going in the shower," Y/n told him before he agreed and cut the call.

Taken aback, she shut out the situation before jumping into the shower and letting the warm water wash away all the stress off her muscles. After rinsing her hair rid of the shampoo, she came out of the shower, water still dripping from the ends of her hair.

When she turned around, her hand immediately went to her chest on a sharp intake of breath. "Fucking hell, Harry," she exhaled deeply, heat creeping up the back of her neck once she realised how ridiculous it was of her to get scared by the sight of him seated on their bed.

She just hadn't expected him to be there, that's all. "I'm sure there's still water left, I didn't shower for too long," she told him while walking towards their closet.

"Drop the towel and come here," Harry said, his voice deep and low. She couldn't help but ask him to repeat himself, caught off guard. "I won't repeat again, Y/n. Drop the towel, and come here," he said again, this time weighing down on each word as he spoke.

His arms were crossed across his chest, the veins more prominent because of his recent workout session. One of his legs dangled off the bed while the other one was folded. Nothing but a white undervest covered his upper half, a short pair of shorts clinging to his thighs.

Hesitant but because of her trust in him, Y/n dropped her towel and walked to him. Uncertainty and anticipation caused her hands to start fidgeting again. Slowly but surely, she reached right where he was sitting on the bed, her hands seemingly frozen on her sides as she stood upright, unable to move any further.

"Lay across my lap," Harry said, unfolding his leg and laying it straight on the bed to make the spot comfortable for her.

Y/n did so, all of the silence and holding-back of Harry was causing her brain to spiral. But one thing she knew was that whatever was coming, it wasn't going to be very holy.

She felt Harry's cold hand grab her ass before he started massaging it. That's when she knew she had surely done something wrong, because he was punishing her.

His palm met her ass cheek with a sharp blow, causing her to jerk forward. "Count for me," he told her, kneading her other cheek before hitting it with the same blow.

"2," Y/n counted, her voice shaking with thrill.

Harry watched her bum jiggle at the impact, the skin already begining to grow red. He stopped kneading the skin by the fifth blow when he couldn't hear pain in her voice. Now, he was just spanking – one side before the other. He was going at a fast pace, his hits unrelentlessly hard as he finally began hearing despair in her voice.

He kept going, not giving the skin much time before slapping it again.

"P-please, Harry–" Y/n stuttered, stopping when he gave a especially hard hit on her ass.

"What do you say? Have you forgotten your manners?" Harry said, his voice sterner than ever and Y/n was beginning to feel like he was being unnecessarily mean to her.

"Sir – It's Sir." She blabbered, answering him as if he would give her a reward. Yet, she was met with another hard spank. "W-what-ever have I done wrong, Sir?" She asked desperately, still lost on the cause for this side of him boiling up to the surface.

"A pathetic mess already? Can see your cunt glistening," he mocked her, swiping one of his fingers through her folds. "What have you not done wrong today? Cut my calls, answered back in short answers as if I were wasting your time, didn't even tell me if you were going to be back for the night or not," he answered her, massaging her bum.

"Didn't even apologize to me," he said, his eyes fallen into angry slits as he slapped her ass harshly.

He pushed her off of his lap and watched her roll over, unable to balance herself and get up. "Can't do anything right, can you?" Harry said as he pulled her up by her shoulders and sat her on her bottom.

She moved around, her bum hurting too much for her to sit on it. "Hurts," she whimpered, the corners of her eyes moist and wet hair sticking to the skin on her back, neck and forehead.

"Of course it does. Wouldn't have done it if it pleased you."

Both of them knew it pleased her. And if they didn't, then her juicy cunt would have surely given her away. She sat on her calves in front of him, her hands in her lap as she looked anywhere but in his eyes.

"Still, you aren't apologizing." Harry pointed out, causing her to flush. But before she could say anything, Harry pushed at her chest so she would fall on her back on the soft mattress.

Her legs immediately fell open in order for her to get comfortable, and just as she took notice, Harry's hand had already met her pussy in a harsh slap.

"Instead, you're pathetically dripping out of your hole," Harry sneered, slapping her puffy pussy again. A wet noise came from the impact and when he brought his hand back up, the string of her arousal connected them.

"So despicable you are."

Y/n jerked each time Harry hit her cunt, her thighs aching to close and protect her core yet she knew better than to do that. She counted each hit and once she counted the tenth slap, Harry dragged a finger across her dripping hole and covered her clit with her own arousal.

"I've been punishing you over here, and you've done nothing but drip out of that needy hole and blabber out the shit I've asked you to." Harry said as if he were disgusted. "Can't think of anything else with that dumb little brain of yours, can you?" He tsk'd at her, shaking his head.

He pinched her clit, laughing hoarsely when she instinctively closed her thighs shut. "Hook your hands under your knees," Harry instructed her and once she had done that, he was glad to have full access to her pussy.

He pinched her clit again, this time not releasing the hissing hold. With his other hand, he filled her hole with two of his fingers right away – sliding them in and out with great ease due to her wetness.

"Such a poor little thing you are, getting off on being a pretty whore – on me being mean to you," Harry crooned.

When she started to moan, he took her panties that she had taken off of herself before going into the shower, and stuffed them into her mouth. Pathetically enough, she hadn't stopped moaning even with the cloth in her mouth. The noise came out muffled, which Harry seemed to enjoy.

He then created an unrelenting pace, his back crouching in order to give all his strength in fucking her. He was still pinching her swollen clit, a grin plastered on his mouth as he heard the wet noises her pussy was making.

Her clit had grown red in colour due to his harsh pinch that didn't seem to know how to release its hold. "Fuck – fuck , sir. Sir I'm coming, I'm coming I'm so close –" Y/n stuttered as her body shook violently, her face scrunched up in pain and pure ecstasy.

Her body burned and her pussy pulsed as Harry continued fucking her with his fingers mercilessly. "What do you say?" Harry cooed at her, impossibly increasing his pace. "What do you say, my darling slut?"

Her eyes glazed over at the slur, tears springing in her eyes as she felt the knot begin to lower in her tummy.

"Can I please– please cum, Sir?" She said with great strain in a voice, like she was holding back.

"Why are you holding back? Not going to comply with your sir, hm?" Harry asked her his voice shaking due to his violent movement. "Guess I'll just deny you the permission, then."

Harry got off on dominating her. After all, she dominated all of the people around her, especially the ones in her office. She always had a hunger to control people, so the fact that he got to control what she would do or not do, dominate and manhandle her, and be mean to her like she was to most of her employees who deserved to be fired, he felt absolutely euphoric.

"Can I please cum," she cried out, her body shaking vigorously. "May I – may I please cum, Sir?" She cried again, repeating her request until it turned into beg for him to let her cum.

"Please, Sir!" She yelled, knowing that she wouldn't be able to hold back. "Please – please, let me come Sir," she kept on begging.

"Ah okay okay, don't need to be so annoying about it," Harry rolled his eyes, watching in amazement as she became a shouting mess.

He felt as her walls clenched around his fingers, and pinched her clit a bit harder. He heard her let out a final cry before she finally gushed all over his hand.

He maintained his pace as her cum spurted around due to his force. She arched off of the bed and pushed into his hand while heaving gibberish. "Fuck – fuck," she stammered, when he stopped and put his mouth on her – lapping at her as if he hadn't quenched his thirst all day.

"P-please, sir – sensitive," she whimpered, now trying to pull away from his mouth but unable to do so because of the position he had put her in. Her legs ached, but his palms laid flat on the back of her thighs as he sucked at her clit.

Harry finally detached his mouth from her and rose up, wiping his mouth with the back of his clean hand. He put the hand that was covered in her juices in front of her mouth, and ordered her to suck.

When she licked his hand clean, he wrapped it around her neck in a choking manner and weighed on it when he leaned down to get closer to her.

"See? You can be good, too." He grinned, pecking her cheek as she turned her face away from him to hide her rosy cheeks.

"God, I love you no matter what you be – my pathetic slut or my pleasing little darling," he chuckled, nipping at her jaw.

[strang3lov3]

Dark But Just A Game

You and Roman play tag. (5k)

Tags - noncon, one shot, smut, dark!Roman, maybe even slasher!roman??? unprotected piv, creampie, fingering, finger sucking, come eating, oral sex (f!receiving) violence, manhandling, inappropriate use of a box cutter - no gore though, i promise. i'm too squeamish to actually injure characters and deal with describing that. lack of aftercare, typical Roman sexism, Roman taunting, gaslighting, intimidating, lying, bullying. Takes place on Halloween. If you need more detailed warnings, message me. Fic help - MY BABY @endlessthxxghts!! thanks for having it in you to edit this A/N - I had fun with this creep!!! I plan to do more dark!roman in the future where he’s your creepazoid landlord stalker guy. Probably not as extreme as this fuck. This is my early Halloween treat for all of you 🎃 hope everyone has a safe and fun holiday!

If you’re interested in the music I listened to while writing this

“Can I leave now?”

Roman looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head as he sighs. “No, and quit asking me. You’re not leaving until I’m done.”

Fucker. 

You’d never noticed before just how uncomfortable the couch in Roman’s office is, but after laying on it for the last three hours, you’re painfully aware. The material is scratchy, it’s uninviting. More for show than comfort, no doubt. Roman’s at his desk typing, scrolling, doing god knows what on his computer. What does he even do, actually? You’ve worked with Roman for a long time now and you hear him talk a lot about work, but as far as doing work - actually working, he does fuck all. “You never do anything, never, and now you’re…?”

“Watching porn, nuisance. Very important. Now fuck off.” 

You don’t doubt that he really is watching porn, honestly. This is the third time you’ve asked Roman what he’s doing and you have yet to receive a legitimate answer. He’s got you stuck here in his office as he works - or whatever it is he’s doing - until he’s done. The rest of the building emptied out hours ago but Roman kept you late, insisting that he’d need you for something. Yet so far, he hasn’t needed you for anything. But you can’t leave, though. Per Roman’s instructions, you are not allowed to leave the building by yourself. 

He couldn’t give two fucks usually, but knowing that you park in the garage, where it’s less secure than the rest of the building, Roman likes to walk you out when you’re all alone. There’s been incidents in that garage before. Nothing severe enough to actually do something about it or - more likely - nobody at Waystar really cares to. Nobody except for Roman, who insists on making sure you’re never alone in that garage. He doesn’t know why that is exactly. Maybe he’s got a soft spot for you. 

Your phone died a half hour ago, and you left your charger in your car. Roman’s minimalistic analog clock reads eleven-something; you can’t exactly tell the time with the way the silver hands lay on the white background, the glare of the lights, and how the numbers aren’t even labeled. “Do you even like that clock?”

“What clock?” You point to it. It takes Roman a second to peel his eyes from his monitor, and then he squints at it. “Huh. That clock. Never noticed it before.” And his attention is back on his screen. Roman looks handsome even under the harsh, bluish light from his computer, the rest of the room pretty dark. He had you turn off the overhead lighting an hour ago. It was giving him a headache. 

“I’m ready to go, Roman.”

Roman huffs. “Jesus Christ. I. Know. God, you’re like a fruit fly. Always buzzing in my fucking ear. What, am I keeping you from something? Costume party? Fucking - I don’t know. Passing out candy?” 

“No, but–” 

“But what?” 

“I’m tired.” 

It’s the truth, you are tired. And you did have plans, too. It’s Halloween, and you love to watch the same three slasher movies by yourself every year with a bowl of shitty microwave popcorn and some fun-sized candies. You’ve got a variety bag of candy in your car you picked up earlier in preparation, actually. But as the hours passed being stuck in Roman’s office, you gave up on that plan. You’d really just like to go home and sleep.

“Then take a nap,” Roman says. “I’m not even making you work. You’re getting paid to sit there and bitch to me. I can make you shred papers or something, though. Is that what you want?” 

“I shredded your papers yesterday.” 

“Then I’ll make you shred the blank ones. Scroll through Instagram and shut up.” 

You roll your eyes. What a fucking asshole. Roman goes back to his screen, and you take some time to watch him. He just…stares. At nothing. The screen doesn’t change, it’s just that same blue-white light reflected on his face. Roman’s eyes are glazed over, his brow is pinched together. He just seems not totally there right now. He’s probably rereading the same email over and over again, but you do that too. Focus too hard on trying to be productive that you end up moving in the opposite direction.

Fuck this. Roman will keep you here until sunrise at this rate, so you pack up your purse. “I’m going to my car,” you say, walking across the room. 

Roman glares at you. “Don’t,” he says, pointing in your direction. “It’s Halloween and there’s nutjobs out there. Do you know what could happen to a girl like you in a parking garage all by yourself?”

You scoff, “Fuck off. You’re ridiculous, Roman.” 

Roman bites down on his smile to hide his amusement. You’re his first assistant to take none of his shit, who bites him back. What Roman lacks in size and personality, he makes up for in power and status, and he uses that advantage to bully anyone lower than himself. Never works on you, though. Roman wonders how he could change that. Everyone’s got a breaking point.

“I’m leaving.”

“No. If you leave without me, so help me god I will - I don’t know. I’ll hunt you down. I am asking you to give me just like, five minutes. Can you wait five minutes?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Five minutes, my ass.” You take your hand off the door handle and lean against the frame. “What’s this about hunting me down?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. I’ll hunt you down.” Roman rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Sounds fun. Like tag,” you smirk. You adjust your bag on your shoulder and saunter towards Roman at his desk, then tap his shoulder. “You’re it.” 

Roman says your name in a threatening tone. “Do you think I’m kidding? I’m not fucking with you. Go sit down.”

You tap Roman again, then open the door. You dangle one foot out of the frame, giggling as you threaten to run. “I’m going to my car.” 

Roman sighs and leans back in his rolling chair, folding his arms behind his head. “Always a game to you, huh?”

“Not always. But right now, yeah. Play with me, Roman. For like, five minutes.”

“What do I get if I win?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh. “I have some Halloween candy in my car. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, really? Anything at all?” Roman watches you nod, a mischievous smile on your face. Whatever you’re thinking, he’s thinking worse. “Hmm. Enticing. Yeah, alright. I’ll fucking play game, fucking show you. I’ll even give you a headstart, hm? I’m feeling generous.”

“Really? How long?”

“Don’t know yet, so you better run fast. But–” Roman pauses, mulling an idea over in his head. “You can’t use the elevator.” 

“What do you mean, ‘can’t use the elevator’?”

“Sound it out,” he mocks. “What do you think it means?” Fucking asshole. You roll your eyes as you play with the door a little, swinging it open and closed little by little. “Those are my terms.” Roman folds his arms across his chest.

“Are you gonna use the elevator?”

Roman makes a face and shakes his head. “Of course not. We’re gonna play fair and square. You run, I run. But faster, obviously. So you better get the fuck out, sweetheart.” 

“Okay. You’re on,” you smile. “Peace out, then.” 

And that’s it. Roman watches you leave. He cranes his neck a little to watch the direction you turn, and like a good girl who follows his rules, you go for the staircase. 

Roman never had such complicated feelings about a woman before you came along, which says a lot given the fact he’s never had a normal relationship with a woman either. He’s perturbed by your fierceness, your independence and confidence in the face of everything you put up with at Waystar and from Roman himself. A dirty joke in the car, a pinch on your ass cheek in the elevator. It does nothing to get under your skin or make you squirm. Your happiness, that stupid smile you wear. Your laughter and your sense of humor. He wants to break down all of those parts of you, just to see if he can debase you to his level. So tonight, he’ll humor you and play the game, if that’s what it takes. Just for shits and giggles. What other opportunity does he have to do this, anyway? If you get away, win the game of tag, so be it. But if you don’t, you’re his to do with what he wants. He’ll get you in his arms and he’ll…he’ll…

Roman closes out the windows on his Mac, then shuts the computer down entirely. He smiles a little at the small Snoopy figurine you put on his desk one day after he mentioned liking the character. You told him it made sense, that you could see it. Him liking Snoopy’s character, that is. Roman opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a boxcutter, turning the tool over in his hand. There’s not even a good reason for him to have it. But he’s not gonna do anything, of course. Obviously he’d never do anything real. He’ll just…freak you out a little. It’s Halloween night, after all. If there was any time for a spook and all that. 

Roman holds the boxcutter tightly in his hand as he stands up. He leaves his jacket on the back of the chair, his phone on his desk. He shuts off the lights and follows after you, taking sure steps as he walks that first hall. He turns down the same staircase that you did and peers over the ledge where he can see that you’re running your way down. The door behind him shuts loudly and startles you, an excited giggle escaping your lips. He wishes he felt excitement like that too.

Roman guesses you’re about seven levels below the top floor where you started when you enter the closest door to yourself. He repeats the floor number to himself through whispers, pacing his way down the steps. Bits of his hair are falling out of place, tickling his eyes and the bridge of his nose. 

Roman barges through the same door you entered and scans the dark room for your body. It takes him a second for his eyes to adjust, but he thinks he sees it - your shoe poking out from behind a desk as you crouch. He tiptoes closer to you, peering over more desks and boxes of paper to see if he can spot you, or if his mind is playing a trick on him. He curses when the floor creaks under one of his steps. “God - fuck,” he hisses. 

You hear him in front of you. There’s quite a distance between you and him yet, but you’re a sitting duck just waiting here. In the trash bin under the desk you’re hiding behind you spot a plastic water bottle still a quarter full. Quietly, gingerly, you pull it out and toss it in the corner of the room so that Roman’s attention turns to where it clattered.

You crawl around the cubicle, then rise to your feet to move quicker. Roman inspects the water bottle, then the desk where he thought he saw you. His footsteps are getting louder, so you sprint as quietly as you can into one of the nearby cubicles, your back against the wall as you hold your breath.  

With wide eyes, you watch Roman walk right past yourself in the cubicle. You feel giddy at the thought of winning this game, so giddy you have to cover your own mouth to stifle a laugh of excitement. You poke your head out of the cubicle a little and watch Roman turn to the left, then make a mad dash for the exit and sprint back down the stairs. 

Roman had thought about going back to the staircase so that you’d have to meet him there, but he decided against it - the game doesn’t last as long that way. He lets you run down the steps so that you tire yourself out a bit and he walks the other direction until he’s standing in front of the elevator he promised he wouldn’t get on. Roman presses the button with the arrow pointing down and smirks to himself, flicking the switch of the boxcutter, poking the blade in and out, in and out. The elevator dings and the doors open, Roman takes it down to garage level. 

He waits. Flicks the blade up and down, up and down. 

-

That blue P for parking sign has never looked so beautiful. You catch your breath for a second at the bottom of the stairs, then look up to see if you can see Roman. He’s not there, but you don’t believe he didn’t hear you leave that one floor you played cat and mouse on. Maybe he went down a different staircase, he does know the building better than you do. After catching your breath, you cautiously open the door to the garage. Roman perks up when he hears the horn of your car beeping repeatedly as you unlock it, fidgeting with the button on your keys. “Fuckin’ obnoxious,” he mutters to himself, waiting for you to walk far enough away before pressing the ‘door open’ button on the elevator so that you don’t hear the sound. 

Relief watches over you as you make it through the parking garage, all cold and damp and smelling of concrete and oil, and no sign of Roman. You look around - It’s eerie in here, a liminal with its fluorescent lighting, but not quite bright enough to light up the dark atmosphere. Each floor is completely empty, save for your car. You smile as you reach your vehicle and open the back door, your heart pounding, exhilarated that you outran Roman as you toss your belongings onto the seat.  

You feel it before you hear it. Warmth against your back, a bulge against your ass. A hand over your mouth, fingers and thumb harshly digging into the hollows of your cheeks. Your eyes widen as you squeal in fear and excitement. 

Roman has you held tightly against his chest - he wins the game. But he realizes that he didn’t actually think this far. Didn’t think about what he’d do once he had you in his arms. If he’d catch and release, or if he has more in mind than that. As Roman contemplates, you start to squirm and panic - this has gone on too long. You don’t even know that the person holding you is Roman, so you thrash against him. It only serves to excite the man, to hold you tighter so that he’s hurting you. 

“Hey, shhhh...shut up. Shut the fuck up. Stop - fuck - fucking squirming. It's me, okay? Relax. It’s just Roman.” The identification doesn’t calm you much. Something about him feels off. “Tag, remember? I got you. You’re it.”

Roman waves to you in the window opposite to your position, wiggling his fingers as he wears a bizarre smile, the shadows on his face making him look all dark and severe. There's something in his hand, too. Metallic and sharp-looking.You don’t register what it is until he presses it against your side and you can make out the object. A boxcutter. Roman threatens to push it further and you gasp, though with his hand over your mouth you don’t breath in much air. “I told you l’d fucking show you, didn’t I? Hey - didn’t I?”

Roman tugs your blouse up your torso, grazing the tip of the blade up and down your ribcage. You watch it happen in the window, tears springing up in your eyes. This doesn’t feel like a game, and if it is, you want no part of it. This feels...this feels scary. Roman’s taking it too far, and it feels real. A few tears roll down your cheeks, down the back of Roman's hand. You don’t wanna play this game anymore.

“Tears, huh? That didn't take long. Should check Guinness. See if you broke a record or something.” Roman lightly draws the blade over your skin, writing his name in sloppy cursive letters. R-O-M-A-N. He could press hard against your skin and his signature would be carved into you permanently. “I know, I know,” he whispers. “Are you regretting this?”

You nod. Roman's palm is becoming damp with your warm breath, your tears collecting between his hand and your skin. You try to pull him away from you so you can speak, but he holds on tighter.

“I asked you before if you knew what could happen to a girl like you in a parking lot like this. Wanna guess now?”

Only now does Roman remove his hand from your mouth, but he holds it just as tightly over your chest. You shake your head, “No,” you answer, voice wobbling. Good, Roman thinks. You want to scream, tell him that this isn’t funny. You’re scared and you want to be done with whatever this game has turned into. But you don't have enough of a voice to say anything but no. A quiet, pleading, shaky, and useless no.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Roman begins. “Some bad, bad man will snatch you up, just like this.” He gestures to you with the boxcutter. He smiles, “He’ll drag you somewhere nice and quiet, where nobody can hear you scream. Like this.” He points to the rest of the garage. “He’ll bend you over-” Roman keeps the blade at your side and forces you down, down so that your chest is pressed into the backseat of your car. He puts a knee on your back, trapped like an animal underneath him as he presses his weight into you. Roman bends over and pushes some hair out of your face, twirling it around his slender fingers. You struggle to breathe, both with his weight on your chest and your hyperventilating. He continues, “And he’ll have his way with you. Fuck any hole he wants, shit - maybe he’ll even make a new one. Like I’m gonna do with you, right?”

It’s here where you realize the game is over, ended long ago, and question if it was even ever a game to Roman. Your gut churns in anxiety, you feel like you’re gonna puke. Is Roman gonna fuck any hole of yours he wants, or is he gonna make a new one? But being paralyzed in fear, and all you can do is hope that this’ll all be over soon, or maybe it’s just a dream. You’ll wake up in bed all sweaty and sticky and out of breath, but you’ll shower away the thought of this. 

“You could end up on the news tonight,” Roman taunts. “It’s a scary, scary fuckin’ world out there. You have no idea what some sickos are capable of.”

Roman considers what he wants to do to you. He could leave you here and you’d be sufficiently frightened for Halloween, be your real life slasher movie. But you’re so scared, so pliant, so devoid of all confidence and bite and spirit. Roman wants to continue to exploit that, beat it down.

He tugs down your pants until they’re around your knees, then slides the blade of the boxcutter beneath the waistband of your panties. You cry harder, panicking and choking on your sobs. “Shhh,” Roman shushes you, cutting the fabric of your underwear before ripping it off of you completely. “Deep breaths, sweetheart, don’t cry. It could be worse, you know? It’s not the real thing. It’s just a game. That’s all it is. We’re just playing a game. I am just trying to show you what’s out there.” 

You thrash again. “Hey,” Roman snaps and smacks your ass hard enough to leave a print. He stands behind you, no hands on your body and impressed that you stay like that. Roman spreads your legs, exposing your cunt to himself. He slides the blade of the boxcutter back down and drags the tool up and down your folds, patiently waiting for you to become wet. “You don’t fight back much,” Roman murmurs. “Why is that? You’re just like, f- oh. Answered my own question. Fight, flight, or freeze. You’re a freezer.”

“I’m scared, Roman,” you whimper. “You’re really scaring me.”

Roman scoffs. “Oh, you’re scared? Imagine how scared I am, knowing some sick fuck could do this to you. Legitimately,” he adds. “It breaks my heart, honestly. You’re lucky I know what’s best for you, sweetheart.” 

Roman puts the boxcutter into his pocket and touches you himself instead, first spitting on his fingertips before cupping your mound. He hums in sick satisfaction at feeling the pool of arousal at your core. “Do you know how fucking soaked you are? A worse man wouldn’t get your pussy wet like this. He’d fuck you dry. Think about how good you have it with me.”  

Roman toys with your pussy, making lewd noises as he rubs it, taps it, cups it. You’re only getting wetter, but you won’t make a sound, instead biting on a seatbelt, tears falling from your eyes squeezed shut. You’re not so subtle, though. Roman notices the subtle rocking of your hips, whether you realize you’re doing it or not. “You’re allowed to moan,” Roman murmurs as he strokes your folds. “I’d really like to hear you.”

He gives you a moment to find your voice. He’d even take a breathy sigh, if not a cry of pleasure. 

Nothing. 

“I said,” Roman begins, brutally pushing just two fingers into your slick entrance, letting you feel how his bony knuckles stretch your pussy. It hurts, oh, Roman knows how it hurts you. “I want to hear you. You know how much I hate repeating myself.”

You let out a soft whimper in response, the noise landing somewhere between pleasure and fear. 

“Good girl,” Roman praises, pulling his fingers out of you almost all of the way to admire the way you’ve soaked him, digits all coated in your creamy ribbons of slick. He pushes them back in and curls them repeatedly, brushing against that sensitive place inside you, the added pressure of being on your stomach intensifying it all. In the deepest part of you, you can’t help but to want more, another finger or maybe even his cock. And that makes you cry harder, and fills you with a unique sense of disgust you’ve never felt before. 

Roman curls his fingers rhythmically in your pussy, twisting and spreading them, getting your cunt ready for him to fuck. He didn’t plan on doing you this courtesy, but again - Roman’s got that soft spot for you. That, and the slick, wet noises you make for him, the way your body looks all laid out on your backseat, goosebumps on your bare skin as you push yourself against his hand Roman’s not entirely ready to give this view up yet.

After a time, it’s over. Roman pulls his fingers from you and you whimper, choking on your quiet sobs. Roman wedges one arm beneath your stomach and pulls you up, then shoves your purse under you so that you’re propped up for him nicely. You summon the courage to look over your shoulder at what he’s doing. 

“You’re in good hands,” he promises, meeting your gaze. His eyes are dead but wild like an animal, a little bit of sweat sparkling on his forehead, hair all out of place. Roman snaps and points, “Eyes forward. Now.” 

He unbuckles his belt and takes his cock and balls out of his pants and underwear so that they’re resting over the waistband. Roman rubs his thumb over the sticky tip before squeezing the base of his cock, then pumps himself a little, working his cock to full length. He spreads your cheeks wide, slick hole puckering as you wait to be filled once more. “You’re a mess.” Roman slides his thumb up and down your gash. He gathers your arousal and pulls you up by the neck with one hand, then shoves his thumb into your mouth with the other. “Taste it,” he says. “You fucking want this.” 

You barely have time to register the flavor of your own arousal before Roman’s pushing you back down again and lining up with your entrance. He gives you no warning before pushing inside you unceremoniously. 

“Roman,” you cry, reaching for the seat belt to pull yourself away from him. Roman lets you pull yourself far enough so that his cock pulls out of you almost all of the way, then pulls you back down on it. 

“You can’t run from it,” he coos, beginning a steady pace. “You have to take it. No use fighting.” He draws in and out of you slowly as he holds your hips and rubs circles into your skin. Still crying, Roman soothes you, “Shh,” he hushes, shoving his thumb back into your mouth. “You’re fine. I’m being gentle for you. A bad man wouldn’t fuck you slow like this, would he?”

To Roman’s credit, he is being gentle with you. His thumb feels unfamiliar in your mouth at first, but quickly becomes a comfort to you as you suck it, use it to pacify yourself. You stare at a fallen piece of candy on the floor and focus on the details of the wrapper, see what you can’t read to block out the feeling of Roman inside of you. I’m not here. This isn’t happening.  

“Yeah, not so bad, is it?” Roman pants, hips rocking against yours as he fucks you in two. “You could have it worse. So, so much worse.”

Roman pumps in and out of you at a steadier pace now, so deeply and so intentional so that you feel all of him. His hand on your hip, squeezing you, the weight of his body as he slams into you in a non-rhythm, no fluidity at all.  You’re drooling, slobbering on Roman’s thumb as he fucks you and all you can do is take it, every punishing thrust he delivers onto you. 

For Roman, it’s becoming too much. He can’t keep himself together and release is inevitable. Roman knows time is moving slowly for you but if it weren’t, he’d be a little embarrassed at how quickly he’s falling apart. Figuring there's no point in staving it off any longer, Roman lets himself feel everything he wants to feel. He’s grunting, moaning, growling as he loses himself in your cunt. “Oh fuck, I’m - fuck, fuck you, fucking…bitch. Fuck.” 

Roman’s stomach and balls tense as he quickly approaches his release, groaning loudly as he spills into you, coming so hard he feels dizzy. He pulls out of you to pump his cock through his orgasm, painting those last few ropes of his spend onto your twitching pussy. Roman leans against the driver’s side door of your car as you catch your breath on the backseat, still staring at that piece of candy. It’s over. It’s done. 

When you prop yourself up on your elbows, Roman shoves you back down. “Nope, you stay there. I’m not done with you yet,” he says. “Gonna make you come for me.” 

Another sob escapes your throat and you cry hard. “Please,” you beg. “I’ve had enough, Roman. I just wanna–”

“Go home,” Roman mocks your voice. “I know, I know, I fucking know. But I’m a gentleman, aren’t I? Would you prefer I leave you high and dry? Come on. Use your head.” 

Roman drops to his knees, joints cracking as he gets into position. He spreads your lips and presses a kiss to your center, all swollen and covered in his come. He licks you from clit to asshole, then rounds the tight muscle with his tongue before dragging it back down. He moves his lips and tongue in tandem to bring you pleasure, working you steadily until you’re letting out those little whimpers of ecstasy. 

Roman moves his face as he devours you, his scruff scratching your inner thighs while he licks all of his spend out of your hole. The sweet and heady taste of you and him together is addicting, the warm scent of your most private, sensitive place. Roman will smell you in his facial hair later and get himself off to the thought of this but for now, he focuses on making you come all over his tongue. 

You buck your hips into his face as he eats you, Roman smirks at this. He moves lower so that he’s sucking your clit, causing your legs to shake at the sides of his head as he eats you like the first meal he’s had in days. He holds you firmly in his grip, nails digging into your flesh like he could rip it off your bones while his tongue swirls over your clit. You reach behind yourself out of desperation, searching for a part of him to hold onto when you come. Roman takes your hand in his, giving you a place to land. 

You’re seeing stars. Climax is inevitable, and there’s no point in fighting it off. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. You stop swallowing your own moans and let yourself make noise freely, allowing the pleasure to build. It’ll be over soon. 

You sob when you come, all that emotion breaking like a dam. Roman uses his tongue to fuck you through it, push you to the point of discomfort and overstimulation. Roman turns you over in the backseat and pulls you up, up to examine you. Face and eyes all puffy and swollen, soaked with tears. Body shaking uncontrollably. Roman pouts as he wipes your eyes, you poor, blubbering mess. 

He helps you into the driver’s seat of your car, buckles you in and tightens the seat belt. Roman leans over you to reach into that bag of Halloween candy and grabs a pink lemonade flavored Starburst. Roman smiles, “My favorite,” he mumbles, unwrapping the candy and shoving it into his mouth. “Alright. Drive safe. Watch out for Michael Myers, I don’t know. See ya Monday.” Roman shuts your door and pats it twice, waving behind himself as he walks away.

TYSM for reading! If you enjoyed please reblog with kind thoughts or send me an ask or comment ♡

I know that usually I tag my Roman readers, but given how triggering this fic could be to some, I'm not doing that. I'll see you all next time with stepdaddy!roman ♡

[yanderes-galore]

Could I request prompts 7+4 from the obsession prompts list by asirensrage for Stu Mqcher please and thank you? Also hope you have fun writing!

-🧀

Sure! @okchijt helped me out with the plot for this ^^ They are a huge help! It's been awhile since I've seen Scream... so I'm sorry if plot points seem rushed.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Stu Macher Prompts 7 + 4

"You really think they're going to keep me from you?"

"If they touch you, I'll kill them. It's that simple."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Murder, Blood, Manipulation, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Sadism, Slightly spicy if you squint, Forced relationship.

Something doesn't feel right. You cared for Stu, cared for him enough to come to his party. At first, you were indeed having fun being around him.

You try your hardest to just enjoy the party Stu threw for the school closure. After all... maybe you needed a break. The murders in town were stressing everyone out.

Stu stuck around you for the most part. He was, as always, clingy and touchy with you. Yet he kept slipping away at odd times, leaving you alone before coming back

Something felt off whenever he left. Whenever he left your side someone else left the party. It just felt... strange.

You just about have enough with your anxiety when you learn of the principal's death like all the rest...

The murderer is here... you need to leave.

You shakily leave your spot, hoping your friend Stu leaves on his own. Your anxiety doesn't settle as you wander down the hallways of Stu's home. Someone has to call the authorities... someone-

You scream loudly when something wet grabs your mouth and drags you into a room. The door is shut and blocked by a figure in a black cloak and white mask. You stare like a cornered sheep as the killer stands in front of you.

Was... was that blood around your mouth!?

"P-Please don't kill me!" You cry, tears streaming down your face. "I'll do anything! Please...!" The stress eats away at you as you cower in the room. No escape... you're dead!

But all you hear is laughing.

It's not mocking... it's like what you'd hear after some joke. It's genuine. Genuine enough to make you doubt yourself for a moment....

But you definitely taste real blood around your mouth.

You pause, time seeming to slow as the figure in front of you removes their mask. Your breathing stops when you realize it's... someone you know. It's Stu...

You hope it's all a joke.

"Hey there~" His tone is oddly happy when he's greeting you, like he isn't dressed in a costume covered in blood. "Sorry for you finding out like this and getting the surprise ruined... but you were going to leave before the big event!"

"Big... event?" You whisper, fear still evident in your tone.

"Well, yeah? I didn't have time to get dressed properly so the reveal didn't go as planned...." Stu sighs, speaking to you calmly as if this was some sort of play rather than reality.

"Do you think this is funny!?" You whisper, Stu only giving them a smile. "They're really dead, aren't they? This isn't some prank?"

Stu just laughs again.

"S-Stu..." You try to plead, "C-Can't you let me go? I promise I know nothing... I don't know what's going on! Please... let me live... you should run, the cops could get you, yeah?"

Stu merely gives you a playful look, not caring what you say. He merely laughs again, finding the situation funny before coming closer.

"You really think they're going to keep me from you?" Stu whispers with a few giggles. He corners you expertly until you're pressed against a wall. It's like he's done it countless times before.

Your situation seeps in more... you feel yourself begin to come undone due to the fear.

Stu notices you break when he corners you, the entire situation amusing him. He smiles and pulls your chin up to look at him. You're just so cute when scared.

"What I mean is there's no need to beg..." Stu elaborates. "I don't plan on killing you... I may play rough, baby, but I won't end your life, okay?"

The fear renders you frozen as Stu grins. He carefully strokes your head, the blood on his gloves hands smearing into your scalp. He chuckles when you flinch away.

"Billy's probably having fun with Sidney... why can't I have some fun with you?" Stu whispers in your ear. "No one else can have you... none of your friends... none of the cops... no one...."

Stu moves your face to gaze at him, blood staining your skin.

"If they touch you, I'll kill them. It's that simple." Stu states with a grin.

At this point... you feel yourself break. All of this was planned from the start and Billy was in on it. Perhaps one way or another Stu was going to trap you.

There's nothing you can do now...

You only try to not make any noise as Stu holds you with a lovesick smile on his face.

[hwaslayer]

project: make you love me (jyh) | eight.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.2k

—chapter content/warnings: scary movie night with friends!!, flashback scene with seonghwa 😅, snuggles, holding hands, yunho is the sweetest and super gentle with oc 🥺, a kiss on the cheek hehe, the next two updates will also be very crucial for these lovebirds!! 🖤

"What else should we buy in this aisle?" Chaery slowly pushes the cart down the chip aisle.

"Dude? We already have so much chips." Seungmin points at the popcorn boxes, nachos and other chips already sitting in the cart. "We haven't even gone to the desserts yet."

"Kim Seungmin, we are hosting a scary movie night. Back to back scary movies." She pauses to glare at him. "Of course people are going to look for food. We need to over-compensate than under-compensate." She continues to lecture him.

"She's kinda right." Soobin shrugs. "Gotta be good hosts." He shows the big pack of sour worms in his hand. "Sour worms?"

"Yes, but for decoration!" She grabs the bag and tosses it into the cart.

"Decoration?"

"Yeah, I'm going to put it into a fancy jar and organize it all cutely." Chaery giggles, making you shake your head as you trail behind with Soobin. 

"Can we please just eat these normally?" Seungmin continues to bicker with Chaery as they finally lead the way out of the aisle and onto the baked goods/dessert section. Soobin tucks his hands in his pockets, looking down at you with a smirk. You furrow a brow, confused as to what he's smiling like that for.

"What? Weirdo." He laughs and shakes his head.

"Oh, nothing." You playfully hit him on the bicep. "Ouch!"

"You can't just look at me then say that."

"Nah. It's nothing serious. But, Yunho is still coming right?"

"Yes." You squint your eyes at him.

"Goodluck making sure Chaery stays quiet."

"Oh hush, she'll be fine."

"Mhm." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Just friends, remember?"

"Hm." Soobin hums. "We'll see about that tonight."

"Choi Soobin, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Scary movies are the best environment for PDA."

"Or, scary movies are just a good environment for friends in general."

"Mm, no." Soobin shuts you down, making you scoff. "But, we can say that if it makes you feel better."

"It does." You continue to squint at him. "You guys are such instigators."

"Sorry." He smirks. "Just know I think it's adorable." You make a face and roll your eyes. "On a more serious note, have you heard from Seonghwa?" You shake your head.

"Not really. Not after I told him we should end things." You shrug. "He can be mad all he wants, but I'm done with it. He doesn't realize he's wrong."

"Good." Soobin scratches at his temple. "What if he ends up running back to you, though?"

"No, I highly doubt that." You say lowly. "Why?"

"Just wondering. I, um, was just reminded of when Seonghwa never wanted to join in on movie nights or our kick-its. I know it's a small thing but it meant a lot to you. It's nice knowing Yunho is making the effort, even as your friend."

"Mm, yeah." You look at your feet as you continue to walk alongside of him.

♣︎ FLASHBACK

"Hwa." You gently nudge him while lifting your head from his chest to look at him directly in the eye.

"Hm?" He hums, eyes still glued onto his tv screen in front of him. The both of you lay in his bed, his apartment awfully quiet after San and Mingi left for a late night fast food run. Seonghwa's fingers gently trace circles on the edge of your shoulder, his expression flat as he continues to watch the show that's on.

"We're having a movie night at the apartment in a few days. You should come." He lets out a small, pathetic chuckle before shaking his head.

"I don't know."

"Why not? You never come even though it's just my roommates and a few of our friends."

"Exactly. I don't know your friends like that, so why would I go?" You furrow your brows and lift your head from his chest.

"So wouldn't you take that as an opportunity to get to know them?"

"What makes you think your friends are interested in getting to know me? I know they don't like me." Seonghwa has a small smirk forming at the corner of his lips.

"Because they're my friends at the end of the day. They'll still try because they know it matters to me. Just like me asking you to do the same with them."

"It's just weird. I don't wanna be around people who don't like me. On top of that, I know they're your friends, but I'm sure they truly care less." He sighs. "Sorry, I just don't see myself doing it."

"Not even for me?"

"Why do you have to form it that way? You're trapping me into the situation." You roll your eyes, throwing your leg over him to start getting dressed again. "Where are you going?"

"Home."

"I'm being honest, Y/N. I don't see the point of this." He sighs and tries to grab at your wrist. "You don't have to act like that. If it really makes you feel better, I'll do the next one. Okay?" He says just to give you what you wanna hear, though he doesn't mean it and he'll find another way to get out of it.

"Nevermind. Just forget it."

♣︎ END

"My point is.. people always realize after they lose something good. I just don't wanna see you get hurt by Seonghwa again, is all." Soobin chimes in again.

"Thanks." You give him a small smile. But, it immediately fades when you both hear Seungmin and Chaery bickering over the types of dessert they should buy, and whether or not Chaery should arrange a small charcuterie board last minute. Soobin cuts in and tells Chaery not to, while grabbing a pack of freshly baked cookies for dessert. He takes the cart from them and heads towards the self-checkout, making you laugh at how frustrated he's gotten in the past few minutes. When you and your roommates finally get home, you all get washed up and clean the apartment to start setting up the food at the table.

You're excited to see Yunho tonight, especially since you both haven't seen each other over the weeks due to tremendous amounts of tests, papers and projects. But, he still checked on you through random texts and calls, keeping it short for the sake of deadlines and letting you get rest. But, you missed Yunho, his company. You missed the random walks. You missed the McDonald's runs. You missed seeing him in the library— which, you haven't really gone to just because you've been spending more nights studying with your roommates comfortably in your apartment.

You remember asking him if he was still down to come tonight, reassuring him that he wasn't obligated and that you'd completely understand if he had other things to do. To be honest, you were ready for it. You were ready for Yunho to tell you he indeed did have other [better] things to work on.

'Nope. I'm gonna be there.' 

Is what he surprisingly comes back with when you tell him. When you heard his response on the other line, you felt your palms get a little sweaty, nerves starting to get to the best of you. How could you keep him entertained? Did he feel pressured? Did he even want to go? What was he going to think of you with your friends?

He is going because he is genuinely interested in going, right?

You couldn't help but overthink.

"Hey, what're you thinking about?" Chaery looks at you before unloading the chips into a big bowl.

"I hope Yunho didn't feel pressured or obligated to come."

"Are you kidding?! Absolutely not!" She sets the empty bag aside. "If he didn't want to come, I am certain Yunho respects you enough to be honest about it. But, I genuinely think he wants to come and just hang out with you." Chaery brushes your hair back. "Don't think that way, babe. If I were him, I'd love to spend time with you, too." You chuckle and roll your eyes.

"Please. We are just friends."

"For now." She winks with a playful pinch to the arm. "Promise he will enjoy himself."

"Thank you." You poke out your bottom lip. "So, how can I make myself useful?" She laughs.

"You are always useful. But, a bit of help with organizing the snacks would be great! People are gonna be here soon." You chuckle and help her set up the rest of the snacks, spreading the decorations across the table shortly afterwards. 

Just as she had mentioned, your friends started arriving quickly— all falling into your apartment one by one. You start to worry a bit when Yunho hasn't arrived, anxiously fiddling with your fingers and checking your phone. You head into the bathroom to relieve yourself and take a moment to calm down.

If he didn't want to be here, he would just say so.

You let out a breath and swing the door open, eyes landing on the front door ahead.

"There you are! She's finally done doing her business—" Your eyes widen when you see Yunho standing next to Seungmin, furrowing your brows at your roommate for having no filter most of the time.

"Seungmin." You say with clenched teeth, making him laugh.

"Kidding! Jeez." He gently taps Yunho on the arm with the back of his hand. "Anyway, I'm gonna help Chaery with the rest of this stuff in the kitchen. Feel free to grab whatever you need and get comfortable." Seungmin jogs over to the kitchen, leaving you and Yunho alone.

"I honestly thought you were gonna back out last minute." Yunho raises a brow before laughing a bit.

"Is that what you think of me?" You shake your head. "I told you I wanted to come."

"I'm glad you didn't change your mind." You smile up at him. "Hungry?"

"A bit?" You laugh and show him to the food, letting him greet your friends and roommates on the way. Yunho helps himself to a slice of pizza, while you take two— getting a bowl of chips and popcorn to share before you plop onto the couch and set your things down on the coffee table. Everyone is pretty much situated at this point, all sprawled throughout your living room while waiting for the first movie to play.

"Okay! Is everyone ready?!" Chaery asks, making sure everyone has their food before beginning.

"Let's go! Play it!" Hyunjin responds excitedly from the floor. And with that, the first movie begins: The Devil Inside.

Of course, with any scary movie, things can start off slow. It gives the illusion that it may not be as bad as you think— when indeed, it eventually does get to that point. Yunho sits next to you on the couch, hugging close to the arm rest to give you space in case you needed it. But, he feels your leg brush against his and he feels himself loosen up. He doesn't feel so tense when you set your plate back onto the coffee table and give him a few gentle taps on the thigh, asking him if he needs anything with that pretty smile of yours. He almost gets lost in the way your eyes twinkle when you look at him, the way your smile feels so genuine.

You are warm.

You are safe.

"I'm okay." Yunho responds to your question with a low whisper. You give him a small nod before proceeding to eat your food while watching the movie.

As the movie progresses, there are a few moments when you've already had to sit back and cover your eyes, the scenes too intense for your liking. Yunho actually hates these movies, truly. He can't stand them because he hates the visuals, the sounds. He doesn't really know where he lies about all this stuff, he truthfully wouldn't know how to explain it. But, he just doesn't like it. It's unsettling, and it's not his cup of tea. Of course, probably stating the obvious for most people.

The point here is that even if you had told him about the movie choice beforehand, he'd still show up. Because he genuinely wants to be here with you. He'll take any time he gets outside of school purposes.

"Oh shit!" You jump from the loud sound, instantly covering your face and digging it against Yunho's shoulder. He laughs at you, before wrapping his arm around your waist— pulling you closer to his body. 

"It's okay, it's over." He chuckles, looking at you while you continue to hide behind your hands.

"Don't lie to me!"

"I would never. I promise." 

"Ugh." You whine. "I'm sorry, I'm gonna hide from time to time."

"It's fine, I don't mind." 

"Really?" You look up at him as you find your body comfortably resting against his, Yunho's arm still wrapped around you to keep you there. He simply nods with a small smile, subtly biting onto his bottom lip when he feels you adjust in your position and scoot even closer. Yunho is trying his best not to be stiff, awkward; but in all honesty, he likes having you close and he just wants you comfortable. 

"Really." He whispers as the intensity in the movie climbs again. You smile at him before returning your attention to the tv, Yunho's hand gently resting on your thigh. 

"Dude." Seungmin whispers over to Chaery and subtly nods in your direction. "Cute."

"Stop." She harshly whispers back with a playful tap to the chest. "Leave them!"

"Says you." Seungmin bites back sarcastically before earning another hit on the bicep. 

You continue to let Yunho hold you, hand gently resting against your thigh as you keep close to him. He draws tiny circles on the surface of your leggings, making you silently giggle to yourself from the ticklish feeling due to his gentle touch. At some point, your hand lingers near his, but you're too afraid to make the first move [if any]. So, you don't. You can barely focus on the movie because you're too busy deciding if you should just say fuck it or not.

The movie says otherwise, though. Especially when a loud jump scare happens yet again.

"Oh my god, can they stop doing that!" You jump, hands coming up to cover your face.

"Y/N, watch the movie." Yunho teases, trying to pry your hands away from your face.

"Only if they promise to stop the bullshit." You joke.

"Okay, I'll call them and discuss." Yunho successfully pries your hands off after that statement, eyes peering into yours to check if you're okay. He doesn't necessarily let go of your right hand, letting you lace your fingers with his. 

"You're funny." You giggle. 

"At least you're laughing, though." He smiles. "Promise the rest of the movie won't be that bad. I got you, okay?"

"Okay." You nod, sinking back into your position against Yunho, hands still laced together. 

"Comfortable?" You smile at him.

"Mhm. If you are."

"Don't worry about me. As long as you don't feel threatened by the movie." You let out a small laugh.

As the movie continues, your position shifts in a way where you're almost laying onto Yunho, while he continues to have an arm wrapped around you and his hand locked with yours. Being with Yunho makes you feel comfortable, and the movies seem less threatening with him here. You can handle scary movies for the most part, but having him feels like a warm blanket on a cold, snowy day; having Yunho feels like the one sunshine ray poking through the clouds.

Yunho is safe.

The rest of the movie goes on, with Yunho being there to soften the blows of the remaining jumpscares. Before the next movie, you run to grab a few more snacks, with Yunho still welcoming you in his arms just like before. When the second movie gets rolling, things continue in the same manner with him. No one is really batting an eye, but everyone is also aware that you and Yunho have gotten closer lately. They try to mind their own business, except they all can agree on one thing: You deserve better than Park Seonghwa. You have been happier without him.

That's all that matters.

During the second movie, Yunho continues his subtle acts of affection— little pinches on your thigh, squeezing your hand, caressing the surface of your hand with his thumb as his way to console you, teasing you whenever you hide;

Nothing more, nothing less.

And it brings you so, so many butterflies. Yet, you're still not really sure of what you feel for Yunho. Maybe you're scared, maybe you're overthinking? Maybe Seonghwa was partially to blame since you're afraid of getting hurt. But, what you do know is that you hate when the movie marathon comes to an end because this means your friends go home, Yunho goes home. 

Everyone does their role in helping you and your roommates clean up, even though you've reassured them that they didn't need to. With that, the house is clean under half an hour, friends bidding their farewells shortly after. Yunho sticks around to make sure nothing else is needed, giving you leverage to join him outside once your roommates thank him for his help.

"What a night." Yunho laughs at your statement just as he slips back into his shoes, throwing his hood over his head. 

"Exhausting?"

"A bit." You giggle. "I can walk you to your apartment—" Yunho shakes his head.

"No, then who is gonna walk you back?" He smirks. "We'll go back and forth." You snort.

"Fine." You cross your arms and look up at him. "Did you have fun, though?"

"I did have fun watching you cover your eyes and accidentally hit me from time to time." You laugh.

"Hey!"

"Kidding. I did." He chuckles and gently taps you on the tip of your nose. "I'll be okay on the walk over."

"Okay." You smile. "Thank you for coming, and for being my shield?" You say in a questioning tone and Yunho smiles.

"Of course." You walk closer and open your arms for a hug, immediately wrapping them around his waist when he pulls you in. You hold your position against him for a bit, taking in his scent while he continues to hold you. 

Yunho is warm.

Yunho is safe.

When you finally pull back and look up at him, you hesitate with your next move. But, with the way Yunho continues keep his gaze on you, you almost feel like he's expecting your next move. Maybe he'd like it? You can't exactly help yourself, either. He was so sweet and gentle with you earlier, and he didn't have to come tonight. He didn't have to, especially not knowing anybody besides your roommates. Yet, he did. And he was there by your side the entire time.

You can't exactly help yourself.

So, you toss the overthinking out the window, tippy-toe and give Yunho a chaste kiss to the cheek. He smiles a bit, ears instantly hot and red.

"Seriously, thank you."

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N. I like your company." He digs his hands into his pockets. "Get some rest."

"Okay. I will. Goodnight, Yunho."

"Goodnight." He bites onto his bottom lip before turning on his heel for the lonely walk back to his apartment. It's a little past midnight and Yunho really does feel the loneliness the farther he gets from your apartment. When he steps into his own, he kicks his shoes off and gets ready for bed. As soon as he slips into his covers and his head hits the pillow, he can't help but think of you.

You.

Tonight, Yunho doesn't think sleep will find him. But he's okay with it for once. Because it's you— you're the reason why sleep won't find him. You're the reason why he's been happier.

You.

And he hopes you feel the same way, too.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintific @primoppang @betray-the-light

[toniyx]

More Vox headcanons, because I'm absolutely suffering.

Vox x Reader Migraines Headcanons (Fluff)

So, I'm pretty sure I've already seen someone do this. But now I'm going to put my own take out there, being that I have a migraine right now.

This goes under the assumption that you and him are in a (relatively) stable relationship. Nothing crazy, but you aren't absurdly toxic and fighting all the time.

- It starts when, one day, you two are alone in his big office thing. Vox isn't aware of your migraines at this point; either you haven't told him to spare his feelings, or they just haven't come up yet. Regardless...

- You enter his room, bringing him his morning coffee. Now, his big evil lair is normally pleasantly dim to you, but now, it feels like every single LED is blinking at you for attention, or, more accurately, screaming in your face.

- You approach Vox with the intent to speak with him, but every step is really heavy, and you feel dizzy. Vox hears you enter, but turns back to look at you only when you've come closer.

- The moment he looks at you, you wince. His screen is so painfully bright, and it doesn't help when he starts talking.

- The two of you talk, and you're happy, despite the pain. Vox notices that something's up, but he doesn't comment until you hand him his mug and start clutching your head, trying to cover your eyes or look away subtly. He shuts up for a moment, squinting.

- "What's the matter, dear?" he asks - he sounds more confused than he does concerned, or perhaps a little upset. Has he done something wrong? Why aren't you looking at him? You've never done this before, and for some reason, it looks to him like you're in actual, physical pain from looking at him. That's gonna hurt his ego.

- But little does he know, that's the truth. You turn back a little and begin explaining it to him, looking rather guilty for not having explained it already.

- Vox is just a little offended that you thought he'd be upset if you told him, but figures that goes against his point, and doesn't tell you.

- Now, Vox is very work-oriented, not to mention very busy—he's going to have to get back to work soon enough, there's no doubt about that. But that doesn't mean he doesn't care.

- He turns you away, thanking you dismissively for bringing him his coffee.

- Later on though, in secret, he spares a little while to shower the internet for information on these—he'd never dealt with them personally, even while alive, and he didn't care enough about anyone else to have bothered looking them up before. But now, at last, he had a reason to look into them.

- He calls up a few doctors, pulls a few strings, and threatens a couple of employees to get to work, producing whatever they possibly can to help with your problem

- He surprises you with it all later in the day, once he gets off work. He brings you just about every possible remedy he's been able to find—medicine, earmuffs, caffeine, ice packs, even a blindfold!

- You're surprised by all of this effort—Vox doesn't seem like the type, does he? If you bring it up to him, he just plays it off coyly, telling you how he couldn't possibly just let his darling suffer like that. On the outside, he sounds like a smug bastard. On the inside, though, there's some truth to what he's saying.

- Eventually, the two of you end up hanging out. Vox would even go through the trouble of dimming his screen for you; in fact, he'd even shut it off entirely, just for you. He can still see you just fine due to the cameras inbuilt into his monitor; it's much preferable to having your pretty face look away from him in pain.

- You sleep peacefully that night next to Vox. He even massages your temples without asking. Vox isn't normally so smooth, but he finds success in it just thus once.

[cherryjuicegf]

He sees her last. After the blood and the gloom and the despair that plagued his sight, after the death and the wails and the pleas that teared at his chest, he sees her last.

Chaos, he thinks, has never looked more serene.

In another place, at another time, it would be beautiful.

Now Yennefer meets his eyes from across the hall and a sudden jolt shakes her whole and she runs, gods, she runs to him with such helplessness and relief that he knows he will welcome the most bruising hug, if it means it will keep her afloat. There is a weeping beauty in sadness, but not for her eyes. Never for her eyes.

As she buries her head in his shoulder, he feels her heart digging a hole in his chest. He holds her tight.

"Thank the gods," she whispers, as though to herself, "thank the gods you're alive."

In another place, at another time, he would make a joke, perhaps about the feeling not being mutual, just to steal a smile and a banter from her lips.

But he has no heart for that now. Not even for that.

He only has a chain clenched tight around his heart and gutting his voice in shame every time he opens his mouth to speak. "Yennefer, I–"

At once, she looks at him. "No words." As though she knows what he would say, as though she knows all he hasn't done, and mourns him anyway. She shakes her head, eyes huge and dark and pleading. "You can't stay here, it's dangerous. You have to go. You have to find Geralt."

"Yennefer, Yen– I know." His fingers dig into her arms and he can't bear to loosen his hold, he can't bear to let her go. Not yet. He smiles, soft. Leans to search for her eyes, for just a moment of peace in their turbulent current. "I just wanted to see my darling witch."

Yennefer stares at him for a moment, shoulders tense. Then, she huffs a laugh. Her expression softens, almost crumbles.

He feels her hands shaking where she holds him and the corners of her lips tremble as though with all the unspoken screams of the sea trapped into a single shell, wailing and weeping and waiting to be heard. He only wishes he had time to put her heart to his ear.

Her voice is quivering as she speaks. "I don't know where Ciri is," she says and it sounds like the complaint of a mother and a child crushed into one, like the world's cruelest crime, the earth's deepest regret, choked in swallowed tears. "I don't know where she is, I don't–"

She doesn't let her face break, as if she knows that when the bottle cracks, there will be no end or beginning, as if she knows he will only have to stay there, and hold her through it. And he cannot stay here between death's teeth.

She can't afford this too.

But he knows terror when he sees it in her eyes, for it is not frequent, and floods them with a different kind of darkness. It breaks his heart.

She looks at him for a moment deeply, in thought. Then she lets out a sharp breath. Quiet, exhausted. "Gods, Jaskier. I'm losing everything all over again. And then," she nods at him from tip to toe and laughs again, as though she finds it absurd, "here you are. Here you always are."

Maybe it sounds painful, because she winces.

Maybe she cannot bear looking at him, maybe in hope it will hurt less if she loses him. But Jaskier doesn't abandon her eyes, only stays there, because their violet melts just like then, just like that other time she was all bereft and scared and he got to see it, and knew. Yet again, a familiar kind of despair.

But, gods. What else could one make out of shared pain, except for love?

A tear flows down her cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before it shatters. He holds her face. "Hey. You are not in this fight alone." He swallows, voice thick, hand firm as though to caress the love on her skin and right into her. "Not anymore."

Oh, she has been alone for so long. So long that her first instinct is to disbelieve him, doubt him, squint. But it is only for a moment.

Because his thumb is still stroking her cheek clean of stray tears and her brows can only twitch in desperate acceptance as she slowly covers his hand with hers and leans into his touch, closes her eyes. Presses on, as though to memorize the shape of his palm when it's missing, as though asking of him to remember her shape.

Jaskier can't hear her, but feels her own voice in his head as he prays they don't become no more than a memory.

"We'll meet again." She looks at him again and now her voice is steadier.

It makes him smile. He will miss this. Offering a hand for her to lean into every now and then. Watching as she rises again, indelible.

A chuckle, as the curtain threatens to rise. "Eh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Besides," he speaks softer now, like a lullaby, like a confession, "I could never be done with the likes of you, Yennefer of Vengerberg."

A promise.

And Yennefer smiles, through the tears, and shakes her head. How strange, how comforting. To fight so hard for a purpose, and to know the purpose is willing, at last, to fight back for you.

With a deep sigh, she raises her head. And there she is again. Solid, seething, like a burning hill. "Don't leave Geralt alone."

"You know I won't." Then, pleading. "Be strong."

He knows she will be. It's mostly to remind himself.

Slowly, their hands drop away, and he hopes the warmth of her touch lingers on his hand for a while.

"Be brave," she replies, but she knows too. "I won't be there to save you this time." Jaskier huffs, mostly to hold back tears. "Well, then," she continues, and her voice is suddenly strained in a half-laugh, half-sob, an attempt perhaps, to seal the promise back. "Goodbye. Good luck–"

Only, she can't.

Her voice dies in her throat, and she presses her lips together, in refusal, in grief. Her eyes are wet again.

Jaskier lets out a silent gasp and shakes his head, pulling her close one last time, tighter than before. This is too much. He can't ask for too much. So he only lets her steal some breaths from his chest before he lets her go, and places a kiss on her head.

He feels her holding her breath, or his, as she pulls back and silently looks at him one last time.

And then, like a cord snapping in two, she turns around and walks outside the room. She doesn't look back.

And Jaskier watches numb. Her form disappears behind the walls and he stands wrecked, a sob threatening to rip his throat apart.

Broken, trembling, he smiles at her remaining memory, and decides to seal her promise himself. "Good riddance."

His voice echoes back to him in the empty hall.

[glitchxinthematrix]

IRREDEEMABLE

Part 4

Love, a concept so complicated to even grasp and yet, every single soul in the universe end up craving it. I have had my share of the cravings, but, news flash, it all resulted in me being left alone stranded. So the concept is now hid safe inside a box. buried deep down somewhere inside, and at times like these I hear the faint screaming it does from the suffocation, all for some acknowledgement. And now, Geto, Love? The one minute he stared longer? Gojo's words kept replaying in my head on my way to find Suguru.

I wouldnt run my thoughts any deeper into this, i mean why should i? what did he do about this? how long has this been going on, and ,oh fuck , thats a pillar and my head is gonna raamm into-, wait no its soft, wait its a hand, a familiar one, shit-

I slowly raised my head to see geto by the vending machine with one can of his favourite drink and the other hand as a barrier to my head and the wall. and yet he doesnt frickin spare me a look, why te hell is his head stooped so low.

Walls are everywhere these days huh?,the audacity to joke around right now without even meeting my eye.

"So youre not even gonna look at me?" I blurt out, unexpectedly helpless in my delivery.

As I see him lift his head up very reluctantly and struggle, i find myself doubting everything gojo previously said, miutes ago.

"Whats up y/n". THE NERVE.

"Didnt take you to be a fuckboi Suguru Senpai, following your best friend's steps is it?"

With a confounded expression I saw him squint his eyes and , well that should be a question then.

"You never called, Geto".

His eyes bulged a bit like he wasnt expecting me to care about the things that we did yesterday. I saw him mumble something under his breath while maintaining the good old strained eyebrows.

"What, you dont care about how i feel now that you slept w me?"

I see his expression waver into immediate shock that desperately needed to set some things straight.

"Y/n..you don't know what you're talking about.. please".

No amount of strained expression from him is helping this mixed signal facade that's happening to me. He takes a deep breathe noticing my baffled expression.

"I do. i do care, more than I've done for anyone else. its just.. by the time you were asleep in my...in my arms, gojo had texted. Soo..it worked. Everything worked out. As intended. Or it didnt, and he came to his senses maybe,finally,else, it doesnt make sense. it makes zero sense. i mean why the fuck would someone not know how to treat you? to treat you shouldnt come as a chore or a result of some challenge, its as natural as breathing air, and idk what was with him all this while, but im sure he realises now, so give him a chance, he'll treat you better I'm sure."

"Is that what you want?"

"What..why..why would it matter, what I think" he visibly gulps, confused.

"It matters to me geto, if you care about me, to know that you like me, I don't know geto you messed with my head, I can't get you out of it...i broke up with gojo."

"What..wait. what?" His face couldn't contain the emotions that rollercoastered through his mind.

"Just say it geto, fucking say it. Do you or do you not like me. Shit, why am I even doing this? " I steer away on my heel as an attempt to hide the tears that are about ruin my mascara, until I feel an immediate grab on my wrist, the same soft hands.

"y/nnn, y/nn....how do i tell you this...you have no idea. not a thing. the way i have craved for you, to be with you, the way i have literally felt my blood boil seeing the way my bestfreind treated you. you have no ideaaa. please dont torment me any more than this, shit im sorry, i know, its not your fault. hell you had no idea how i felt. its just. all you had to do was exist ynnn. the way you aree, the way you smile, hold the hemm of gojos shirt when he failed to pay you the attention you more than deserve, the way you gently hit shoko on her shoulders when you laugh, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, the way and fuck the way, the way i saw you yesterday, every inch of you, its etched in my memory, by choice. Fuck, I need some water"

I couldn't contain the happiness that bloomed inside me and I had to do something crazy because he looked just too cute.

" for now i can help you moisten your lips I think", I stand on my toes to reach his open mouth, so confused and wary and place the timid but hungry kiss on it, but within seconds he makes sense of things and grabs me by my waist only to land a kiss that lasted longer than the hourly bell that rang twice or thrice after that.

"Aaargh, this...you're tempting me to do something irredeemable again" he breathes with a glistening red lips messy with the stray tints of my lipstick.

"Let's redeem through it this time then."

The smirk on his lips right then looked more promising than ever.

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

Rayllum Month 2024! (4/13)

white flowers and love letters, you say i’m yours forever

July 7th - Flowers

~

Rayla hated mornings. Callum couldn't get enough of them- she was convinced he must be on something, but it wasn't her place to say; hell knew she'd done weirder shit. And conversely, Callum hated late night while Rayla loved them. But at least she had a reason- she was a Moonshadow elf, after all. Moon's at night. The math wasn't difficult.

He slumped onto his bedroll when they made camp that night in a meadow, a clear view of the stars above. And if Rayla had chosen it specifically for that, in memory of their last time and hoping for a repeat, well… at least Callum had the good nature to not say anything if it bothered him. He was probably too exhausted to care.

She pushed his hair back. “Go get some rest, Sleepy Mage.”

He groaned, pushing himself up and rubbing at his eyes. “No, I'm fine. I'll help with dinner, and-”

Rayla rolled her eyes, lifting the bag off Luna and holding it out of Callum's reach. “Your eyebags could carry a gallon of milk. Go to bed- you're exhausted. I've got it.” She smiled, letting her hand fall within his reach. “Really.”

Callum took it, sending a rush of warmth through her perpetually cold body, the smile he gave her worth a billion gold coins. No- more. Priceless. “Thanks, Ray.”

She smiled back, squeezing and lingering. “It's not a problem.”

With Callum passed out instantly, Rayla ate a handful of beige bittersquash as she set out her own bedroll. Once she had it laid out as flat as she could get it on the uneven ground, she plucked Stella from her shoulder, the cuddlemonkey looking at her sleepily.

“Shh, I know, baby,” she soothed when she chittered, scratching her under the chin. “Will you do a very quick job for mama?”

Stella nodded eagerly, big purple eyes focusing.

Grinning, Rayla set her down near Callum with a pat on her head. “I'm going to go use the bathroom. Will you keep an eye on our things and Callum for me?”

The cuddlemonkey saluted her, adorably tapping Callum’s shoulder.

Rayla kissed her forehead. “Thanks, baby. I'll be right back. So fast you won't even notice I'm gone.”

She picked her way off through the woods until finding a dark, secluded enough spot to do her business. Stopping the fuss with the buckles of her pants on her walk back–honestly, she’d had them for over a year now, and the damn things never got any easier to clasp–she stopped short.

Nothing looked familiar. Sure, it was dark, but Rayla had always been good at memorizing environments and had keen night vision even for a Moonshadow elf. Shit, was she lost? Wonderful; that was just the icing on the cake.

Rayla flicked open a single blade, letting it hang at her side. She doubted there was anything nearby, but better safe than sorry.

She slowly spun around, getting her bearings and trying to figure out which way was east, the way she’d come from. Moss grew on the north side of trees, so if she could just find some freaking moss, she’d be set.

She squinted at a faint glow in the darkness, picking up the pace as she made her way over, curiosity getting the better of her. She was already lost; what was another detour?

A cluster of flowers bloomed at the base of a tree, glowing silver and shaped like lilies. A little like lunablooms, Rayla couldn’t help thinking, a shuddering wave of nostalgia washing over her.

Rayla inhaled the flowers’ scent, smiling at the smell of, oddly enough, fresh-baked cookies and Stella–unhygienic as the little monkey was, she thought with a snort–and- Callum. Why on earth did a flower smell like her ex-boyfriend? Why did it smell like home?

Greedily, she leaned back in to smell it again, but lurched back when instead of everything she’d longed for those two years away, it smelled of sulfur. Of evil. Rayla coughed, shaking her head. Where had that come from? Yet when she sniffed them again experimentally, certain she’d gone well and truly crazy, she was proven correct by how it had gone back to smelling like home.

She was clearly crazy, Rayla decided. She’d already been having auditory hallucinations, and with the added stress of her parents in her pocket, the fate of the world on her and Callum’s shoulders, everything that might happen once they reached the Starscraper, what he’d asked her to do… She really deserved more credit for keeping herself out of an insane asylum.

She pulled up a flower, gently gripping it by the stem in her free hand, and continued on her way. No reason to kill all of them. Let a little beauty spread around, right? But, come to think of it, it was odd that none of the little blossoms were anywhere to be seen other than that one patch.

But what did Rayla know? She was no Earthblood elf, no botanist. And she had bigger things to worry about than flowers.

And yet, she couldn’t make herself let go of the blossom in her hand.

By the time Rayla found her way back to camp, tired and agitated from stumbling over tree roots and through thorn bushes, it’d been at least twenty minutes since she’d planned on returning. Stella had fallen asleep curled up with Callum, out like a light.

Rayla smiled softly at the monkey, brushing a kiss against her forehead. She glanced down at the flower in her hand, and before she could think better of it, tucked it behind Callum’s ear. Adorable.

Read more on AO3!

[rainintheevening]

🍁🍁Comfy-vember 🍁🍁

Day 11: Verbal affirmation, Couch cuddles

Grant Ward & Leo Fitz, Agents of SHIELD, Saving Grant Ward AU, Episode 1×6: FZZT coda

-------

He was reading in the lounge when Fitz wandered in, halting by the coffee table, but without really standing still. Grant felt the eyes on the top of his head, and looked up slowly, just as Fitz turned away, hands fidgeting in that way they did when he was thinking too much. But he didn't walk away.

"What's up?"

Fitz jumped slightly, spinning back to face him as if he'd only just noticed Grant there. "Ah, nothing, nothing, I just–"

"Having trouble falling asleep?"

"Well–" A shrug, a shake of his head. The kind of nervous twitches that set off every protective brotherly instinct in Grant. "No, I just–"

Grant tilted his head. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Wha-? No, I'm not–"

"Did she kiss you?" He'd heard them talking in the bunks, not the words, but the warmth.

Fitz spluttered a moment, left hand flying up to touch his cheek, before he collected himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Ah, no! No, she did not."

On the cheek then. Grant couldn't help smiling, as he nodded. "Mmhm." Sheesh, these kids were cute. "But you'd deserve it."

That stopped Fitz, held him blinking for a moment, suddenly frowning. "I don't–"

"You did great today." Grant shut Shatterpoint on his thumb and leaned forward, trying to catch Fitz's eye again. "You were amazing in there, helping Jemma. You saved her life."

Fitz look back at the floor, rubbed a hand over his curly hair. "Well. I didn't... jump out of a plane or anything."

"But you were going to." Grant smiled softly into those doubtful blue eyes. "You're very brave, Fitz. Leo the lion," he added, with a grin. "Bravest of them all."

Fitz stared at him, blinked, then turned away abruptly, but not fast enough for Grant to miss the way his face seemed to cumple.

Shit. He dropped the book on the couch in his haste, standing to reach for Fitz's shoulder, but hesitated when a tremor ran across them.

"Fitz? I'm sorry, did I-?"

He didn't finish, because Fitz spun to throw his arms around Grant's middle, and bury his face against his shirt.

Grant froze, blinked twice, alarm bells ringing wildly in his mind, but when Fitz made a move to pull away, everything fell quiet, and he dropped his hands to the kid's back, held him close.

A sigh, before Fitz relaxed, curls tickling Grant's chin as he turned his head to speak clearly. "Thanks."

For what, the hug? The compliment? Well, at least Grant didn't seem to have done irreparable damaged their friendship. He smiled, rubbed a hand up and down Fitz's spine. "Sure, kid."

Grant waited till the tremors had left Fitz's body, before he spoke again.

"You should go sleep."

"You're not my dad." But there was a laugh in his voice. Grant let him go, and Fitz stood away to rub the back of a hand over his eyes. "And I'm not tired yet."

"Right." Grant nodded, hiding his grin as Fitz stifled a yawn. "Okay then." He sat back on the couch, picked up his book.

Fitz promptly flopped down next to him. "Do you wanna watch something?"

Grant gave him a sideways look, and held up Shatterpoint. "Not really."

"Are you reading Star Wars? I didn't know they had books."

"Hundreds of them actually." Grant eyed Fitz, the way he leaned toward Grant, the way he squinted as if his eyes were wanting to close. Finally he sighed. "Hey, sometimes when Coulson's up late I read to him."

"Oh. Um, sure. Go ahead."

He was a little surprised at Fitz's instant agreement, but shrugged. "Should I tell you what's already happened, or-?"

"No, no." Fitz waved a hand. "Go ahead."

So Grant plunged into a scene of Jedi Mace Windu trying to befriend some children on a war-torn planet, while he tried to ignore the way Fitz inched closer, until he was cuddled right into Grant's side, yawning every other sentence.

Grant paused at the end of a chapter to sip some water, and it hit him suddenly what was so familiar about this. It was like Rose, curling against him as she fell asleep, or way back when they were kids, and both she and Thomas had sat with him while he read bedtime stories. Because Thomas said he did better voices than Mother.

It was like getting the wind knocked out of him, the wave of fear and panic thundering through his chest. What if-? What if he hurt Fitz? What if he broke Fitz's trust, just like he had Thomas's? What if he and Fitz ended up hating each other like he'd hated Tommy, and Tommy still hated him? Oh, hell–

"Why'd you stop?" The Scottish burr made the mumbled words almost unrecognizable, and Fitz's breath was warm on his bare arm.

Grant breathed out, forced himself to relax. "End of the chapter." He slipped his bookmark in, shut the pages quietly. "And you should go. Even you can't deny you're half asleep."

"You need to sleep too. You can't protect us if you don't rest."

What? He stared over at Fitz who was stretching a little, rubbing knuckles in his eyes.

"Yeah," he said at last. "Okay. Let's go then."

But Grant lay awake in his bunk longer than he liked, listening to the air filtration system humming, and trying to ignore how the walls felt like they were closing in around him. He shut his eyes, imagined himself running down the beach at Crecent City, Tramp bounding next to him. He did not let himself think about Fitz, about how warm and solid he'd felt against Grant's shoulder, about how neatly he fit into Grant's arms, just like a little brother should.

That night he dreamed of falling.

[rykno-j]

Phonecall (j/jk)

Summary: Like the title suggests, G/ojo makes a call for help. From who? N/anami. OR G/ojo calling N/anami to bring shit over for his cold

Ship: n/anag/o? it's up to interpretation

Notes: Tried to write a snz > plot fic for once. N/anami calls G/ojo "G/ojo-s/an" in the anime/manga so I'll probably retain that. I'm kinda proud of this one, ahh- (like the angst parts only) Oh right there's some angsty parts but it's pretty mild.. I think.. like there's more fluffy & snz parts..

Actually wrote this whole thing in 1 sitting. Imagine that.

2.7k words.

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"..Hh-hH'!! hAH'ZZDcHh!! hA'DzcHH!!"

Fuck. Those were the roughest he's had for today.

Gojo stares burry at his ceiling. The fan in the middle has 3 blades. If Gojo didn't know better, he'd say there were 5 instead.

His head hurt, everything hurt. He was sure he was sweating, but everything felt so cold.

..Must be a side effect from the fever, then.

Gojo sighed. It's been awhile since.. since-

"..hiH'tcHH!! haH'zZdchH!!"

-Since he had fallen sick. The last time.. the last time he had fallen sick..

It was only bearable because someone had been there.

Of course.

Gojo turns over to his table, the action taking up most of his energy. With what little he had left, Gojo reaches clumsily for his phone. It almost slips out of his trembling fingers as he flips it open.

The brightness from the screen stung his eyes, causing him to turn to the side to muffle a fit of photic sneezes into the back of his palm.

At least.. at least those didn't ruin this throat as much as-

"..heH'EshH'iww!! ..snff-!"

-As those did.

All the sweating he was doing now was probably due to his fever breaking, but Gojo wasn't so sure.

His brain loved to overheat, and while he would gladly heal any damage done to it with his reversed cursed technique, he was pretty sure this damned cold did not count as an injury.

How unfortunate.

He ate the last of his fever medicine 5 hours ago.

How unfortunate.

Although he was never one to back down from a challenge, even Gojo knew he would never make it further than the front door, if he could even manage to stumble out of his room.

"..hih'tchh!! hAH'DzcHh!! ..hH'!! ..haah.. ..snff-!! hh.."

Great. It's stuck. His body must straight up hate him.

In all honesty, Gojo figures that he deserves it. Who was it again? That said his body would give in if he didn't get enough sleep?

Right.. it was Nanami..

Nanami..

Nanamin!

Squinting at his phone screen, Gojo selects the 'contacts' option on his phone. He slowly scrolls down to the 'N' section, eyes gazing over a few painful contact names that he had yet to delete.

Even after all this time, he still couldn't just let go.

His finger hovers over the call button of Nanami's contact. Would he pick up? It's his off day after all. He knows how much Nanami treasures those.

Small breathers from the hectic world of Jujutsu. In fact, 'hectic' was putting it lightly.

Well, it's not like he was ringing Nanami up for anything stupid, like he normally does. Though, with that being said, this would count as something utterly stupid.

Nevermind that.

-----

Stepping out of the bakery, Nanami feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Stopping in his tracks, he pulls it out, scowling at the name that appeared.

What did that annoyance (affectionate) want this time?

He lets a few more rings pass before picking it up, expecting to hear Gojo's obnoxious voice seep through the phone, no doubt to ask him out on another infuriating shopping trip.

Instead, he was met with silence.

Sensing that something was wrong, Nanami made his way to a more secluded area. Was there trouble?

"Gojo-san? Are you there?"

Nanami listens to the other side of the line carefully. But all he hears is soft, even breathing.

"..Gojo-san."

The breathing slowly turns into the sound of ruffling cloth, before a small string of inaudible mumbles could be heard.

"Nanamiin..?"

Nanami felt a pulse in his head. Seriously. Did he just wake up or something?

"..You called me?"

"I did..? Oh.. right I.. I dihH-..G'xxt!! ..did, didn't I? ..ahh, wait.. let me remembHh'!! ..h'NgxXt!! hh-G'nt!! ..aggnh, Nanamin I'm s' srry, haah-"

Instead of replying, Nanami's eyebrows furrowed. That voice was definitely Gojo's, but just what was he blabbing on about?

And those sudden, breathy sounds, punctuated by.. a weird, heavy noise. What were those?

"Are you okay?"

"Mm, no. Not really. Actually.. Nanaminn, can you come over?"

"No."

"..P-G'nXt!! ..Please?"

"I'm not falling for your tricks again."

"N-No tricks.. Nanamiin, pleease.."

Nanami sighs, wondering why he even decided to go back as a teacher in the first place. Why didn't he just delete Gojo's contact all those years ago?

"Fine."

"Yaay, Nanamin!!"

Nanami sighs again (he does this a lot when he's dealing with Gojo), finger reaching over to end the call when-

"Naanaminn, can you also bring some fever medicine overr? I.. ran out."

Fever medicine?

He opens his mouth to ask about that, but was only met with the monotonous beep of an ended line.

-----

The phone slips out of his fingers, dropping onto the floor with a thud that thankfully sounded like the item didn't crack into pieces.

All he had to do now was wait.. huh.

Gojo felt his eyelids slide shut. He tried to force them open to no avail. Seriously.. when was the last time he felt this bad?

..It was probably way back then, when he had gotten stabbed through his neck down to his knees, left bleeding out on the ground.

His eyes slowly slid shut, plunging him into darkness.

Darkness..

...

..Satoru-

..Satoru-!

Gojo suddenly jolts awake, the sudden movement sending him curled into himself with a fit of coughing, the scene that woke him up from his nightmare still dancing behind his eyelids.

..10 years.. or was it 11? 12? How long has it been since that day? How long has it been since he was last shook awake from a similar nightmare, tears streaming down his eyes, unstoppable?

Seriously.. this fever might just prove to be more of a nuisance than he originally gave credit to.

Lost in his thoughts, Gojo barely managed to register the sound of his front door opening. Even in his tired state, his body unconsciously prepared to fight, a thin layer of Infinity forming around himself.

"Gojo-san?"

With a weary smile, Gojo dropped his defenses. He recognised that voice anywhere.

"You left your front door unlocked." Nanami sounded pissed off. No matter, the most important part was that he came. He came..

"Ahh.. did I?"

"I'm serious. What if someone had broken in?"

Gojo felt himself relax as the shadow of Nanami's form stretched pass his doorway. "Nobody would do such a thing.. I'm sure. To non.. s-sorcerers, I'm a nobody. And n-nobody else knows I live hhH'!! ..here. Except you."

"That's not an excuse."

"Lighten upp, Nanamiin, I'm fiiine. Anywayy, I'm so glad you camee- I was convinced you would've ignored me for goood."

"..."

Based on the scene in front of his eyes, Nanami could easily conclude that Gojo was, indeed, not fine. Not in the slightest.

But even he knew it was futile to argue with the other, even in the.. state he was currently in.

"..Hh-G'nX'cthh!! ..hiH'gnXshh'!!"

"Bless you." Nanami sighed. So those sounds over the phone were sneezes, then.

Gojo removed the fingers pinching his nose, waving them dismissively.

"I'm fhH'!! ..fine, don't worhH'!! ..worr'hH-!! ..hiH'gx-ShHe'w!!"

Nanami found himself wincing at the effort it seemed to take Gojo to keep those quiet.

Seriously, of all the people he knew, including those he used to know, Gojo was never one to stifle.. unlike-

"Na-na-min! Did you bring what I asked for?"

"..Mm. Fever medicine, right?"

"Ahh- thank youu!! How much do I owe y-you?"

"Consider this a gift."

"How kind!"

Nanami stares, unbelieving, frozen by the doorway. Despite his distance away from the bed, he could clearly see how badly Gojo was faring. The disheveled hair, reddish hue surrounding his cheeks and nose, the fact he was lying down instead of bouncing around the room.

Why? Why was he always trying so hard to seem fine? Even after all this time, why?

Finally making his way inside, Nanami drops the plastic bag into Gojo's open palm.

"..Oh..You bought the solid kind."

"Huh?"

Gojo slowly removes the box, shaking it in the air. "..Solid.. pills."

"Yes." Was the fever messing with Gojo's brain? What was he asking?

Nanami watches as a pout forms on the other's face. It would have been quite comical, if not given the current circumstances.

"Nanamiin, I can't swallow pills that are this big, remember? Liquid.. do you have liquid ones?"

Ah.. right. Nanami remembers having this conversation with someone before, about how Gojo couldn't take solid medicine to save his life. He remembers the conversation, from ages ago. The conversation with.. with-

"I'll get water for you." Nanami turns to leave, shaking the image of that Someone out of his mind.

"Ah- Nanamin! Wait!"

Nanami found himself freezing at the sudden desperation in Gojo's voice. The tone of a scared child. When was the last time he heard that sound come from the other..?

"What is it?" His own tone softened, a subconscious reaction.

"..Don't go, please."

Once again, Nanami finds himself speechless. A few seconds pass, before Gojo cleared his throat, eyes looking everywhere except where the other was standing. Embarrassment?

"..Sorry.. I- that- that came out by itself, haha-"

Nanami sighs. Through all the years they had known each other, Gojo had always been an easy read due to his expressiveness. Although.. there were some people could read him better than others.

Nanami was one of these people. Possibly one of the few that were left, at that. It was to be expected, especially since the two of them were all each other had years ago.

Turning back to face the bed, Nanami shrugs off his coat, gently pressing it into the mattress next to Gojo's head.

"Mm.?" Gojo looked up at him, confused.

"..Look after this for me, I'll be right back."

"Ah, of course."

Turning to leave the room once again, Nanami was met with no sounds of displeasure this time.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Gojo's fingers wrap tightly around his coat, watched as Gojo brought the article into his chest, face buried into its collar.

Nanami felt his eyes soften at the sight. Even after all these years, Gojo never really grew up.

He was still the senior that greeted Nanami with that stupid smile on the first day of school, the friend who had comforted him when he was crying his eyes out, the friend who needed the comfort when it was his turn to cry his eyes out, and now the colleague who loved his students more than words could describe.

All of that put into the shivering body on the lonely bed.

"..heh'shHEiw!! hiH'gSsH'iww!! hH'!! ..snff- hH'dZzchH!!"

The corridor was quiet, Nanami could hear every little sound coming from the bedroom. Gojo must've thought he was in the kitchen by now, judging by how he was no longer stifling.

..How considerate.

"hiH'dzZch'iww!! ..H'tchh! aH'ngsHE'iw!!"

Nanami decides that he would grab a box of tissues from the living room. He doubts that Gojo even had any in his room.

Honestly.. his level of self care was off the charts at times. There was only so much his technique could heal. Cuts, bruises, fractures. Not colds, not fevers, not broken hearts.

That's what Nanami was there for.

It was decided then. He would stay over until Gojo was back on his feet. Nodding to himself, Nanami reaches for a cup, filling it with water.

He should probably leave for a grocery run after Gojo goes to sleep. He wonders if the other had even eaten a bite after this had started.

Probably not.

"..h'gShHE'iww!! hAH'dZzcHH!! snff- g'tchh! 'tchh! 'zztch! h'gtch!!"

As Nanami approached the room, the fits of sneezes progressively got clearer and clearer. The last couple sounded itchy, he noted.

Like Gojo's photic fits.

He remembers the first time he witnessed one, remembers the tears that gathered at the edge of Gojo's eyes under the sun.

He remembers that period of time years ago where Gojo would always misplace his sunglasses.

Before that, it never used to be a problem, since a Someone would always be there to make sure he didn't lose them, to make sure they were always covering his sensitive eyes.

After that Someone was erased from their lives, Nanami took over. He was the one that gave Gojo the idea of wearing a blindfold instead.

..Perhaps 'erased' was a little too strong of an expression. 'Slipped' would have been a better word.

He slipped from both their lives, both of them did.

"Gojo-san.?"

Nanami peeks into the room, the sight in front of him tugging at his heart.

Gojo had curled even his legs up to his chest, the long coat tangled between his limbs. There was a small, damp patch on the collar of the clothing right below where Gojo's nose was.

Nanami found himself not caring too much about that fact. He was just glad. Glad that he was able to provide the other with some comfort.

People often forgot that Gojo was human too. Despite how he was extremely immature and smiling all the time, Nanami didn't know of another who went through as much pain as he did.

Sometimes, it was almost like Gojo himself too, forgot that he had limits.

"Ahh- Nanamin.. welcome back!"

You don't have to force yourself to sound so cheery all the time.

"I'm sorry I made such a fuss just now, you did nothing wrong."

You don't have to apologise for anything.

"I owe you one."

No. Nanami presses the cup gently to Gojo's lips. You don't owe me anything. It was my pleasure.

When Gojo struggled to get the pills down, Nanami stayed by his side, rubbing comforting circles into his back.

He didn't know what else to do, what else to say.

Nanami stares into Gojo's dull blue eyes, the colour muted due to his fever. He remembers the last time Gojo's eyes wore a similar shade. He remembers not knowing what to do then as well, except to stay by Gojo's side.

"I'm really glad you came, Nanamin."

Maybe this was all Gojo needed after all, someone to support him. Maybe this was enough.

"Thank youu-"

Nanami hummed in reply, setting the cup down as Gojo dissolved into another small coughing fit.

"You're welcome."

"Juice would have been better t-thouhH'!! ..hih'G'Nxt!! 'NgxXt!! ..snff-"

Instead of biting back with a quick "the only thing you have in your kitchen is coffee and sugar cubes", Nanami pulled a tissue out of the box, pressing it to Gojo's nose softly.

"N-anamin?! I.. I can..hH'!! ..do that myself-"

"I'll let go if you promise to stop stifling."

"Hah? What do you mhH'!! hIH'KsShh'iw!! ..snff- heH'DzZtchH!! ..fuck. I'm so sorry-"

Nanami gently wiped the edge of Gojo's nose before pulling the tissue away, replacing it with a fresh one.

"W-Wait.. NahH'!! ..Nanamin-! Be carfhH-!"

Turning as far away from Nanami as he could in their current position, Gojo clasps a shaky hand over the one on his nose, his breath hitching desperately.

"..N'GsHH'iww!! hIH'tCHH-w!! hH'!! ..haaH.. nngh-..heK'sHh!! t'chh!! dzZtchH!!"

Pulling away once more, Nanami pulled a few more tissues from the box, this time handing them straight to Gojo.

"..Always thinking ahead, hm? How'd you know to get these from outside?"

"Your sneezes always get rather messy." Nanami wants to say, but he remains silent.

"..I'm sorry you had to see that, anyway."

"Don't worry about it."

"Mmh.. I'm a little tired."

"You should get some rest then."

"Yeah.. join me?"

Not expecting that response, Nanami stares blankly at Gojo for several seconds, before his eyes travel down to his wrists, where Gojo had already latched his fingers around.

Not like he had the option to deny the request..

..That's not it, Nanami thinks as he shifts to lift the covers. Even if he had the option to say No, he still would have picked Yes.

Finally setting down next to the other, Gojo shifts his grip from Nanami's wrists to around his waist, pressing his damp nose into the crook of Nanami's neck, lips on his collarbone.

"Na-na-min."

"Hm?"

"Thank you. For coming, and for staying."

"..."

"Will you still be here when I wake up?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"..Promise?"

"Yes."

The grocery shopping could wait.

--end--

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finishing notes: idk if the whole "gojo used to be with geto, and he still misses him" implication spoiled the nanago vibe of this fic

if it did, ahjhaesd IM SO SORRY

but i really, really REALLY, couldn't stop thinking about gojo and nanami using each other to heal from whatever tragedy befell upon them in the hidden inventory/premature death arc, and how they healed each other until eventually getting together.

that's all i have for now, thanks for reading!

Now I get to back to my week of examinations! Totally didn't spend hours writing this instead of studying for Economics! <3 <3

--5 days to Shibuya--