#i’ll never forget that that actually just annoyed me again

[starscelly]

remember when i did that poll about people’s preference for writing and reading ship names for tags/posts and some people wanted me dead for it . what was that

[anpanman95]

now that I got he appreciation post out of the way I’ll yap about what I loved the most about this whole scene because was a fucking masterpiece.

1. He looks fucked out and I’m going insane. His heavy breathing was blasting through my headphones and, although that is something that usually annoys me during these scenes, it was done carefully and tastefully. It felt natural and real, not overplayed, not overkilled, but raw and perfectly genuine.

2. Anyone else devastated by the absolute adorableness of this moment? Just me? This was such a cute short thing that casts light into their relationship. They’re both actually very carefree people, always have been, even if Jack had a hard time coming back to his true self. This moment felt so intimate and relaxed. From trying to make the other submit, playfully and sensually, they both pause here and quickly take a breather to gauge each other and decide how is this going to happen before Jack takes the lead again. These are truly Jack and Joke.

3. Wall slamming. It’s one of the cliches I absolutely devour. Ever since episode 1 I knew they would be the kind to do this. I knew their NC would be like this. They want each other too much, they’re gonna take and take and take.

4. No awkward stripping. Just desperate. The moment characters strip have always felt so unnatural for me. This was done hastily and they stumble and it doesn’t look pretty because it shouldn’t. They have wanted each other for too long for them to wait another second in getting themselves naked. Joke is so desperate he struggles with taking Jack’s shirt off and he doesn’t care nor slows down. It adds on the realness of it all.

5. More wall slamming. Dear god I’m unwell. No further words.

6. He was stupid hot for this. They are possessed. As they should be. There’s tenderness and roughness at the same time in their movements and touches, casting light on the fact they love each other but are desperately hungry for each other’s body. They never let you forget that, not once.

7. Did you hear my screams? I was not expecting that. What I’ve seen happen many times on BL NC scenes, is that there is a high contrast done in between the couple when it comes to portraying desire. Usually it’s only one of them that is more vocal or physical about it, while the other takes it and follows. Yin and War have mentioned they don’t want their characters to stick to one dynamic, and it shows a lot in this whole scene. They both are perfectly capable of taking the lead, they both want to take the lead, they both want to submit. They are equals. And that’s always gonna be that way.

The power play, the switching, the rolling in the sheets, the CONSENT, the loving looks, the gentle touches, the rough touches, the pauses, the desperation, the desire.

they did it all. not one single thing missing.

they deserve nothing less than a standing ovation.

yinwar, you did it again

[isak-dot-gov]

Compact and efficient

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Short!reader

Word count: 1044

Based on this request.

My masterlist :)

...............................................

Living with Paige Bueckers had its perks—she was kind, funny, and always up for an adventure. There was never a dull moment when she was around, whether it was spontaneous road trips, surprise date nights, or even something as simple as cozy movie marathons on the couch. But one of the unexpected challenges of dating someone much taller than you was...reaching things.

You would think that after all this time, you’d have gotten used to it. You’d have figured out some clever system or bought a stool specifically for this kind of thing. But no, there you were again, standing on your tiptoes in the kitchen, straining to grab a mug from the top shelf. Your fingers brushed against the handle, but it remained just out of reach.

You huffed in frustration, glaring at the cupboard as if it were the one responsible for your vertically challenged situation. Why did everything have to be placed so high up? And why did Paige insist on putting things away in the hardest-to-reach places? You weren’t sure if it was intentional or if her long limbs just made her oblivious to your struggle, but either way, it was maddening.

Just as you were about to give up and make do with a different mug—the purple one that you didn’t really like, but could actually reach—you heard a familiar laugh behind you.

“Need some help, short stuff?” Paige’s voice was filled with amusement as she leaned against the doorway with that signature smirk on her face.

You turned around and shot her a playful glare, crossing your arms in mock annoyance. “You know, not everyone can be a giant like you.”

Paige walked over, her tall frame effortlessly filling the small kitchen. She didn’t even have to stretch as she reached up, grabbing the mug from the shelf with one hand and handing it to you with a mockingly exaggerated bow. “Your mug, milady,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. This was a regular occurrence between you two—Paige teasing you about your height, and you pretending to be annoyed, even though you secretly loved the attention. There was something endearing about the way she always came to your rescue, even if she never let you forget it afterward.

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking the mug from her. “One of these days, I’ll figure out how to do this on my own.”

“Sure you will,” she said with a wink, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into her side. Her warmth was comforting, and you couldn’t help but relax against her. “But until then, I’ll be here to rescue you from all those high shelves.”

You leaned into her, enjoying the closeness, the way her arm felt like a protective shield around you. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Paige said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Her lips lingered there for a moment, and you felt a shiver of warmth spread through you. “Teasing you is one of my favourite things.”

You groaned, but the smile on your face betrayed you. “I should’ve known what I was getting into when I started dating a basketball player.”

“Hey, you knew what you signed up for,” Paige said with a laugh. “It’s not my fault you’re so tiny.”

“Tiny?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow as you turned to look up at her. “I prefer ‘compact and efficient.’”

“Uh-huh, whatever you say.” She chuckled, giving you a playful squeeze before letting you go. Her hands lingered on your hips for a moment longer than necessary, making your heart skip a beat. “Anyway, what do you need the mug for? Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea,” you said, turning back to the counter. You tried to focus on preparing the tea, but Paige’s presence behind you was impossible to ignore. Even when she wasn’t trying, she had a way of commanding the space around her. “Want to join me?”

Paige smiled, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms as she watched you. “Sure, why not? I’ll even reach for the sugar for you, if you ask nicely.”

You threw a kitchen towel at her, and she dodged it effortlessly, her laughter filling the small kitchen. Despite her teasing, you knew that Paige loved taking care of you in her own way. Whether it was reaching things on the top shelf, holding your hand in a crowded place, or just being there when you needed her, she always had your back.

As you poured the hot water into the mugs, you glanced over at her, feeling a surge of affection for the woman who had become such a huge part of your life—literally and figuratively. It wasn’t just her height that made her presence so big. It was the way she filled every room with her energy, the way she made you feel safe, loved, and never alone.

“Thanks, P,” you said after a moment, your tone softer now.

She tilted her head, her teasing expression melting into something more tender. “For what?”

“For always being there when I need you,” you said, glancing up at her with a small smile. “Even if you make fun of me for it.”

Paige’s grin softened into a warm smile as she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a hug. She rested her chin on top of your head, and for a moment, the world outside the kitchen seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

“Always, babe,” she whispered, her voice low and comforting. “I’ve got you.”

You closed your eyes, sinking into the embrace. In moments like these, it didn’t matter that she teased you about your height or that you sometimes struggled to reach things. What mattered was that she was there—always, without fail, making sure you were okay, making sure you knew you were loved.

As you stood there in her arms, you realised that while being shorter than your girlfriend might have its challenges, it also came with a whole lot of love, laughter, and—yes—teasing. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

........................................................

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in the Bottle - Chapter 9

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Elain Bashing, Rhys is trying to be a supportive big brother, This is officially the penultimate chapter of this story, but the series will eventually go on!

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“When was I supposed to tell you?” Eira asked Feyre calmly. “You said you were busy with more important things. You were busy with running this court.”

She didn’t give her sister the fault for that, but…

“I would have…” Feyre protested but then cut herself off. “No, I wouldn’t have,” she sighed. “That’s on me. I gave you no opportunity to come to me, no reason why you should ever trust me again…” Feyre said softly, trailing off, staring at Eira with wide blue eyes. “I am sorry.”

“For what? Saying what you were thinking?” Eira asked her sister, her eyebrows furrowing. “You are allowed to do that, Feyre. Even if I don’t like to hear it.”

Even when she didn’t want to hear it…even then.

“Talking to you like this,” Feyre pointed out, reaching out for her hand.  “When I told you that I had more important things to do when you were only trying to be nice to me…or when I put my nose into what happened between Azriel and you.”

Eira swallowed at that. 

“Don’t be,” Eira assured her sister, forcing a smile on her face.  “It was time for me to…to realise that he’s completely uninterested and that any hope of him changing his mind is a fever dream.” Azriel wasn’t interested and he never would be. It would be better for everybody if Eira just accepted that. 

She would get over him. Find somebody else…maybe somebody that she wouldn’t annoy… maybe some long-suffering male… who was willing to take pity on her.  “You don’t need to worry about it anymore, Feyre. I won’t try and talk to him again,” she promised her sister. 

Feyre had enough other things to worry about. Eira’s feelings weren’t going to inconvenience anyone any more. 

“No!” Feyre exclaimed and she stared at her sister. 

What? 

This was what Feyre had wanted, wasn’t it?

“No?” she repeated questioningly, a hand still gently running over Nyx's back that was happily cuddling with her, playing with her fingers. 

“What Feyre means is that…you have every right to…handle your relationships as you see fit,” Nesta hurried to add. 

Her relationships?

“There is no relationship. There never will be a relationship. I’ll get over myself,” Eira promised. Eventually. “You don’t need to worry about it. I won’t annoy him any longer or inconvenience you.”

You’ve never annoyed Master, the shadows hissed at her, suddenly appearing and wrapping themselves around her hand. 

“It’s very sweet of you to say that, but we both know it is a lie,“ she said quietly, blinking back the tears that threatened to run over her face. It was so sweet. So sweet of them to do that…but it was useless. 

Don’t worry, I’ll find somebody else,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. Somebody that…somebody that maybe wanted her…somebody that she wouldn’t annoy…somebody that… “Is everything alright with Elain’s wedding planning?“ she asked, changing the topic. Eira hoped everything was alright with that, otherwise poor Elain would be so stressed once again and…

“Eira, forget that fucking wedding for a moment,” Nesta snapped and she flinched, worriedly looking at Nyx that didn’t seem to care one way or another about Nesta’s cursing. What was wrong with the wedding? Had something gone amiss? Was it her fault? Was it something that Eira had done?! “Look at me,” her older sister said with a sigh. She did. Eira’s eyes met Nesta’s, silver and grey, so similar. “I am sorry,” Nesta told her earnestly. 

“Why are you apologising?” Eira asked. What was…

“Because I threw everything I could think of at your head when I…during those weeks and you still came to visit me every week. You wouldn’t have needed to do that but you still did,” Nesta said quietly. 

“You’re my sister. Of course, I came to visit you,” Eira said fiercely. Of course, she had come to visit Nesta. She would have…otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to live with herself. ”You don’t need to apologise,” Eira assured her. It was fine. Nesta had…had a really bad time and…

“Yes, I do,” Nesta snapped. “You should be angry with me!”

Furious…Angry…But then Eira had never really been angry quickly. She had never…And even when she had gotten angry, it had never held for very long…even her anger at Elain had gone away in a few hours. 

It sparked and then it went out again.

“You should be furious with me! For belittling you, for telling you that all the dresses you make are ugly, for behaving like I did!”

She repeated the words, and something deep inside Eira curled together once she heard them again, even when Nesta was sorry about all she had said. 

It was fine. Nesta could… her dresses weren’t as perfect as some that one could buy maybe…maybe Nesta was right. Maybe she should keep to hemming them and shortening sleeves and alterations and stop making things from scratch…maybe she should…“You are entitled to your own opinion,” she said softly. 

“Not when I use it to hurt you on purpose!” Nesta yowled. “You never told me you made me a wedding dress,” she said, her voice dropping, sounding weak. 

How did she…

For just a moment it felt like Eira’s heart was stopping. Then she swallowed, and she looked down at Nyx, still cuddled up to her, as she answered.  “You wouldn’t have wanted to wear it, so what did it matter? It’s ugly.”

Not good enough. Not pretty enough. Worthless.

“It’s beautiful,” Nesta responded, her voice splintering. 

Eira just closed her eyes. 

She couldn’t stand it. She could deal with the harsh words but she could not deal with the outright lying. She could not… “You don’t need to tell me that to spare my feelings, Nesta. I understand,” Eira said weakly. She did understand it. 

It was alright. It was…

“I am not lying to you!” Nesta snapped.” “Be angry at us. Scream at us. Throw us out, Eira. But don’t just…accept it. Don’t just turn the other cheek. Don’t just…”

What good could that possibly do?

“So I am angry and then what, Nesta?” Eira finally asked, for the first time feeling so utterly tired. “Is screaming at you supposed to make me feel better or you?” she asked, for the life of her not understanding what Nesta wanted from her. “I love you, but I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I think it may be better if you all take a break,” a voice came from the doorway and she looked up to see Rhysand there. 

Gods, couldn’t she at least be spared that? 

At least…

“I am not…” Nesta started, but Rhys cut her off quietly. 

“Nesta. Please.” She had never heard the two of them talk to each other like that. 

Never. 

But now they did. And to Eira’s shock, her older sister listened. 

“Fine,” she agreed with a sigh, as Feyre scooped up Nyx, who gave her a toothy smile as she waved at him. 

Both Feyre and Nesta left the room, leaving her alone with Rhys. 

“If this is about my ill-hidden puppy crush on your spymaster, you don’t need to worry about that,” she told him, trying to make her voice seem frosty and probably failing horribly. “I promise I’ll do whatever you want so that he’s not uncomfortable.”

Maybe then she would get out of needing to have a conversation about it with Rhys…maybe then he wouldn’t start making fun of her or laughing at it…

God, it must be utterly ridiculous to a man who was over 500 years old. She probably was just…

The last thing she had expected was for him to watch her with his dark violet eyes and then say three words: “I am sorry.”

Why was everybody insisting on apologising to her today?

And why was Rhys of all people apologising to her? Was it because of him looking into her mind? Seeing her deepest darkest secrets? Stripping her mind naked for him to see and gawk at? 

Was it that?

“About taking a peek into my mind? Weren’t you trying to keep my pain at bay?” she asked, crossing her arms, ignoring the pain that appeared again in her ribs. 

“I was,” Rhys agreed. “But I should have known better. I was arrogant and not careful enough. You have a right to privacy, Eira, and I violated that. And then I violated it further when I told everybody what you felt when they were talking to you.”

Oh great. It just got worse and worse. 

“It’s fine,” she said, waving him off meekly. She didn’t have the strength to argue with him right now. 

“It’s not,” Rhys disagreed with a sigh. “And that’s not the only thing that I am sorry about either. I am sorry about the role I played in making you feel like you have no place here in Velaris,” he continued and her head snapped up to him. 

How…of course. He had seen everything. 

 “Like you are worthless…that you don’t matter,” Rhys continued softly. “I should have never talked to you like that, and I should have realised that we have taken you for granted a very long time ago,” Rhys said. “Even now you are wondering why Feyre and Nesta even bother to apologise to you. Eira, it wasn’t right how we treated you. When I finally got to pull myself from your mind, I threw up, because I was so utterly disgusted with what members of our family said to you. And I am counting myself onto that list as well.”

She didn’t even know what to say to that. 

She didn’t…

It was everything she had ever wished anybody would tell her…Everything right there offered to her on a silver platter. 

She could feel the tears burn into her eyes because she was…”What do you want?” Eira finally choked out. “What do you want, Rhysand? You wouldn’t say that if you didn’t want something. So what is it?”

What did he want that…

But she hadn’t expected him to reach out, one warm broad hand settling on her shoulder. 

“Oh, little one,” he breathed. “I don’t…I don’t want anything from you. This isn’t me manipulating you into giving up even more of yourself. The only thing I want is for you to be happy. I want you to know that we love you. I want you to know that none of us took for granted what you did…that you took this knife for Nyx. You were willing to give your own life for my son, Eira.” 

She had. 

“I am sorry for the role I played. I am not expecting you to forgive me now, but I would…hope that you may let me earn your forgiveness. May let all of us work for it.”

She had no idea what to think of that, didn’t know what to say about any of that, as the tears ran over her cheeks and he handed her a handkerchief from nowhere, his magic easily answering his call. 

“Think about it?” he requested softly. “If you don’t think you can ever forgive us…we’ll figure out somewhere else for you to stay…you won't ever need to worry about money or anything else…but if you were willing to give us a second chance…I know that Feyre and Nesta would be so happy to have you here.”

She didn’t want to go anywhere else. She was too connected to her family for that, she loved them too much that she thought that she could be happy anywhere further away from them. Maybe a smarter person would have taken Rhys’ offer with both hands, would have made herself a nice little life somewhere near the Summer Court maybe…but…

So finally she just nodded. 

She would give them a chance to fix things. She could try. 

And if it didn’t work out…maybe she would find herself somewhere else then. 

“There is…something else, I need to show you, if that’s alright, though,” Rhys continued quietly. “And it’s not..going to be…nice,” he warned her. “Elain had a vision.”

A vision? A bad one? “When?” Eira asked tonelessly. Were they in danger? 

“Close to two years ago,” Rhys answered gently. “Soon after you were made…and since then Elain has…manipulated circumstances so that it wouldn’t come to fruition. She didn’t tell anybody about it.”

This didn’t sound well. This didn’t sound like her sister either. 

“Is she alright?” Eira demanded and Rhys nodded. 

“She’s fine,” he promised her, his voice even. “I think it’s better if you see it if you’ll let me show you.” 

She nodded her agreement, swallowing…steeling herself for death and destruction and then getting…neither. 

Actually, that vision was…the softest, sweetest thing she had ever seen. 

It was…It was everything she had ever wanted. 

A little girl with her caramel brown hair…dark eyes…hazel and green…and wings. She had wings? Illyrian wings?

Eira watched herself with the little girl…watched them pull the carrots out of the ground…watched the little girl grin at her, gap-toothed and beautiful…everything she had ever wanted. 

And then…then she saw these violently scarred hands that had only ever touched her with so much gentleness…scoop up the little girl, her daughter…her mud-sprinkled dress decorated with little floral embroidery and settled her on his hip in a move that looked like he had done it hundreds and thousands of time. 

It was…

Azriel. 

What? How…why…the wings. It was his child? Her child? His child? Their child?!

He lifted up the basket that they kept their harvest in and then helped up her…the touch gentle and…intimate in a way that spoke of their…that…

One hand was pressed against the swell of her belly…another child slumbering inside her. 

A baby. 

Her babies. 

Their babies. 

No, this…this…

Her blood rushed in her ears, her breathing rapid as her vision cleared and Rhys looked at her quietly…nearly pitying. 

“The mating bond snapped for Azriel during dinner a few days ago,” he told her, his voice quiet. 

No. No. No. 

“This isn’t funny.” She wasn’t even sure how she forced these words out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure how she did that…How she…

“It’s not a joke,” Rhys assured her quietly. “It’s the truth, Eira. Elain saw that and decided to stop it from happening.

No. 

Not Elain. Not her twin sister. Not…

Azriel. Azriel?

At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

But you do need to realise, Eira, that that is never going to go anywhere. 

Azriel is completely disinterested. And it would be better for you if you finally realised that.

I want you to be happy. And thirsting after a male that will never return your affections you won’t do that. He’s not going to change his mind, Eira.

You should just stop your pathetic attempts to flirt with him. All you manage is to make him uncomfortable. 

There are plenty of fish in the sea… You’ll find somebody else one day.

It’s still never going to go anywhere!

He’s completely disinterested.

Her breathing came in sharp gasps. Blood rushed in her ears. 

Elain had said all of that. Elain. 

Elain, who had known that Eira had fallen in love. Who had seen this vision…who had seen her…her children. Her babies. 

Azriel’s children. These perfect babies? 

And Elain had tried to make sure that they never would exist?!

Her babies…

The first sob that broke out of her chest, the first fat tears that spilt over her face as she buried her face in her hands…as she cried. 

“I know. I know, little one,” Rhys whispered quietly. 

“Why did she do this?” Eira forced out, forcing a deep lungful of air into her constricting lungs. Why would she do this? Why had she…Why had Elain seen this and then…then behaved like this…why had she…Why…

“Shhhhh,” Rhys shushed her softly, gently brushing a hand over her hair, smoothing it over “It’s alright. It’s alright.” 

It wasn’t alright. None of this was alright.

And she couldn’t stop the tears or the sob that shook her…even as she didn’t know how long it took until Nesta crawled into bed with her, hauling her against her body and holding her tightly. Even as Feyre curled up next to her, holding her hand…until it was the three of them, just as it had been in that cottage…lacking one sister. 

[rechorites]

ao3

The first promise Hermione ever makes to Draco is an innocuous one.

He’s been annoying her all morning: drumming his fingers against his desk; fussing at the tea trolley about being out of cauldron cakes; tapping his quill against parchment in a way that is both highly irritating and also bad for the quill, by the way. They’ve only been working at the Ministry together for three months, still both considered fresh new employees, not yet worthy of any serious projects.

It’s—Well, Hermione’s bored too. If she’s honest.

“Malfoy, I swear, if you just stop making noise for ten minutes, I’ll take you up to the cafe and get you a bloody cauldron cake.”

He shuts up after that, so quiet it’s almost eerie. Hermione finishes reading the report she’s working on (23 mistakes! She’s not sure how any of these so-called ‘managers’ got hired in the first place, truth be told) and puts down her quill.

She tries to forget about Malfoy’s presence, as she always does.

It’s very hard when he’s suddenly looming over her.

“Can I help you, Malfoy?” she asks, not looking up at him. He’s very tall, she’s noticed lately.

“I believe I was promised a cauldron cake.”

Hermione huffs. She was rather hoping he’d forgotten.

“Fine. But we’ve got only got 15 minutes before the meeting with Transportation, so you’d better not dawdle.”

“I don’t dawdle, Granger.” He gives her a smirk.

She gives him a look that she hopes comes off as scathing, and not at all charmed.

They are, in fact, late to the meeting with Transportation.

---

“Granger, if you send this one owl for me, please…”

The please is tacked on as an afterthought, the sound of it from Malfoy’s mouth unfamiliar in the extreme.

“If I send this owl for you, Malfoy, everyone’s going to get in touch with me about this bloody… shindig.”

“Exactly, Granger.”

She frowns at him. Malfoy had been much less irritating lately, in general, and sometimes she found they actually got along.

“What do I get in return, then?” she asks reluctantly, halfway ready to just send the owl to stop his wheedling.

Malfoy smiles devilishly at her. “What would you like, Granger?”

There are quite a few inappropriate responses she can think of to that question, the way he’s been brushing his hand on her shoulder when he walks past her desk the past few weeks, the figure he cuts in his well-tailored robes. She blushes, and his smile seems to get wider.

“You’ll take Percy’s reports for the next… three weeks,” she says, scrambling for something politic.

“My pleasure.” Not enough of an ask, then.

“…and you can answer every stupid request that gets sent to me for the next week.”

He gives her a confused look. “Do you get many of those?”

She laughs. “Are you serious? Malfoy, I get about five a day. Don’t you?”

“Not a one.” He swings his feet up to the desk, looking at her amused. “You’re not scary enough, Granger. That’s why. I promise that after this week, you’ll never get another stupid request again.”

Hermione purses her lips in disbelief. That’s a big promise.

“I’ll hold you to it, Malfoy.”

---

“For fuck’s sake, Boot, if you come and bother Granger again I’m going to turn you into a Blast-Ended Skrewt and shove you down the lift shaft.”

Hermione smiles behind her cup of tea. Malfoy’s threats had become much more amusing throughout the week, escalating as the array of people who thought she knew everything about everything—which, to be fair, she often did—sent owls, were disappointed, sent more owls, and finally came to visit her when Malfoy’s hastily (and rudely) penned notes weren’t enough.

She’s grown to quite like him, actually.

“Cauldron cake, Malfoy?” she asks, pulling one out of the drawer that she’d brought down earlier from the cafe. The tea trolley on their floor always runs out by nine, and Malfoy was fastidiously on time, never a minute early.

He plucks it out of her hands and sits down heavily on his chair. It squeaks alarmingly.

“Bloody hell, Granger. What is wrong with these people? These—” He narrows his eyes. “These men.”

Hermione sighs. “You tell me, Malfoy. Ever since I started here they’ve sent owls.” She frowns. “I try to be helpful, I mean, it’s good that they’re asking about the Muggle world. But Terry’s dad’s a Muggle, so I’m not sure how he doesn’t know what a helicopter is.”

Malfoy looks at her suspiciously. “Are you—Do you seriously not know?”

“Know what?”

“Granger—” He gives her an odd look, disbelief clouding his handsome features. “They fancy you.”

Hermione snorts, running her quill under a particularly poorly worded statement. “You’re having a laugh, Malfoy.”

“I’m having a—” Malfoy’s eyebrows raised high in vexation. “I’m very much not laughing, actually. All these poor bloody wizards fancy you and you don’t even know it. Salazar, we’ll have to put a note on the door.”

“A note? Saying what? All those wizards trying to woo me, please form an orderly line?” She scoffs. “You’re off your trolley, Malfoy.”

“So you’d be interested, then? If one of them asked you out?” he presses.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Malfoy.” She stops writing. “I mean, I’d probably consider it. No one’s asked me out since Ron, not properly.”

He stares at her again, looking dumbfounded, his blond hair falling perfectly—as usual—and those bloody unfairly long eyelashes wide. He’s got nice lips. Not that she’s been looking.

“Go out with me.” He says it so quickly she almost misses it, her quill scratching to a stop and leaving a big blotch on the page.

“Shit.” She reaches for her wand, wanting to get rid of the mark before it settles through the page. Her brain processes the ink faster than his question, the words only beginning to penetrate once her wand is in her hand.

“Good grief, Granger, it’s not that serious. If you want to say no, just say no, you don’t need to hex me.”

“Hex—Go out—What?” She blinks at him, the page clean once again. Did he seriously just ask—

“Go out with me. Tonight, even.”

Hermione gapes at him rather unattractively for several seconds before shutting her mouth with a click. _“_Malfoy, if this is some kind of joke…”

“It’s not a joke. And even if it was, those tossers will stop owling you if they think you’re dating me, and I did promise, so…” He looks remarkably earnest, all of a sudden, as though he really hopes she might go out with him. Hermione feels something strange happen in her stomach, like she’s swallowed too much butterbeer all at once.

“I—Alright, then.” He grins, this wide, self-satisfied smile that makes Hermione feel—Well. She feels a bit giddy, actually. Lightheaded. She can’t help but smile back, a nervous little thing that feels out of place on her face.

Maybe someone’s poisoned their cauldron cakes.

---

“Hermione! Long time, no see!” calls out Cormac McLaggen from across the Quidditch stand.

Shit. Fuck. Hermione looks around desperately for someone to talk to that might save her from this interaction, but Draco, Ginny and Harry are all playing in the interdepartmental match, and Ron’s off canoodling with Lavender in some dark corner.

She sighs. “Hi, Cormac. How are you?” The players are gathering on the field below, Draco’s blond head talking animatedly to Ginny, presumably in their usual snark. He glances up in her direction, quick, and then looks back. She can’t see from here, but if she had to guess, she’d say he was glowering at Cormac.

They’ve been dating for two months, now. It’s going quite well, she thinks. The thought of it makes cheeks hurt from the want of a smile. They haven’t told anyone officially, yet, and certainly Cormac McLaggen is not going to be the first to know.

He sits down next to her, too close for comfort. She scowls down at his leg.

“You look lovely, Hermione, really nice.” He turns down to the pitch. “Supporting anyone in particular today? Last I heard you’d broken up with Weasley.” Hermione rolls her eyes to the sky.

True to Malfoy’s word, the influx of stupid questions, inquiries, and bother from the wizards of the Ministry had stopped rather abruptly after that week. There were several… rumours (truths, in fact, but that was their business and no one else’s,) circulating about her and Draco that stopped most of them, and the others were quickly dealt with by an Incineration Charm.

She let Draco burn them. He seemed to enjoy it.

“I—I’m here with Ginny, and Harry, and Draco. Why are you here?”

“I’ve just joined the League Headquarters. Would have played, of course, but they said it wouldn’t be fair for the other departments. You know, having a former professional on the team.” Godric, he was such a twat.

Below, they release the balls, the Snitch hovering up into the sky, the players all kicking off to scattered applause. Draco starts circling immediately, eyes scanning. He looks at her every few seconds, and each time he does it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Ginny’s a professional, and they let her play."

“Right. Well, next match, then.”

“Right,” she says doubtfully. Hermione lets the awkwardness linger for a minute, hopeful that it might spur Cormac to piss off. She’s never particularly liked Quidditch, but it’s certainly more enjoyable when you have someone to watch. Draco looks good in his Quidditch robes, truth be told.

He stayed over for the first time last night, and well—She’d rather like a repeat performance.

Cormac clears his throat, and Hermione feels her face twitch in irritation. Suddenly Draco is hovering several feet away, back to them like he’s looking for the Snitch, definitely within earshot.

“Listen, Hermione. If you’re not seeing anyone—”

“I am,” she says abruptly. “Seeing someone.” Draco’s broom tilts up in the air, floating. She can practically see his grin through his perfect hair. She can’t help but smile.

“Oh? Who is it?”

Hermione bites her lip. She should tell her friends first, surely.

But she’s also certain Cormac will absolutely go away right now if she tells him.

“Draco, actually.”

The look on Cormac’s face is so, so worth it.

---

Her left leg is tangled in Draco’s sheets (green, predictably, which she’s teased him about several times already and has no intention of stopping) and his arm is slung across her waist, warm and comforting. She can feel sleep dragging at the corners of her mind.

“Hermione,” he murmurs, low enough that it wouldn’t have woken her.

“Mm?” she replies, eyes still closed.

“Promise me something?” he asks quietly. She tilts her head up so she can look at him through one eye, his hair all mussed and out-of-place, mouth pink.

“You’ll tell me, won’t you? When you get sick of me?” Hermione lets out a huff of air and moves closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Draco.” She opens her eyes fully now, brushing her eyelash against his cheek, a butterfly kiss. “I won’t get sick of you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[castiwls]

my number one .ᐟ

Paring; art x reader

Synopsis; You'd always been your own worst enemy. Your anxiety liked to jump out at the worst times yet your ever-doting boyfriend was determined to be there every. single. time.

Even if that meant missing his match.

Requested; anon

Notes; tysm for the request <3 i kinda based this on my own anxiety and the methods I've been taught over the years

Masterlist

“I don’t wanna be annoying.”

“You're not being annoying.”

No matter how many times he says it, you never believe it. How could you not be annoying, especially when you’ve woken him up at 3 a.m. for what must be the third time this week?

Art sighed, pulling you closer to his chest. His hands rubbed over your back in soothing circles as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Just follow my breathing, okay?” It was a saying so common that it seemed to fall from his lips without a thought. It was almost like a lifeline of sorts knowing that no matter what you’d always have the steady beat of his heart only a phone call away whenever your own decided to forget how to beat on time and needed reminding.

It was equally a blessing and a curse. A blessing to have someone like Art who would drop everything to come at your beacon call but a curse that you needed him in that way. 

Even now when he should be preparing for another tournament - against which school you can’t remember but then again your only thought right now is being able to focus enough to breathe - he’s here with you tucked around a corner from your class as you try to calm your breathing.

The moment he’d gotten your text.

Please come

Need you

He’d left the court without a second thought and made it to the building in record time. “You’re okay.” He soothed running a thumb over your cheek as he held your gaze. “You’re okay just breathe. In and out.” 

He hated seeing you like this. No matter how many times it happened he’d never shake that feeling of nausea that would swim in his stomach whenever your breath seemed to catch and your eyes grew distant. It made him want to just wrap you in his arms and protect you from anything and everything that left you feeling even slightly anxious.

You were his entire world and it hurt him to know you were your own worst enemy. 

“C’mon.” His hand intertwined with yours as he grabbed your bag. You both walked quietly back to his dorm your heart rate slowly going back to normal as you both walked. 

“Don’t you have practice?” You frowned as he placed your bag on his bed turning to watch as you shut the door. “It’s fine.” He smiled trying to reassure you as he opened his arms. “I can practice later you’re more important right now okay.” He sighed pulling you against his chest.

The practice could wait right now all he cared about was you. 

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

Not now, please god not now.

Art had already been so busy the last few days that you’d purposefully tried to leave him alone. He needed to train and you didn’t want to get in the way and worry him more then he already was. 

He’d only left his dorm an hour ago to get ready for the match and you’d been fine. Better then fine actually you’d had a great morning and for a moment you’d thought that maybe you’d go three full days without your anxiety rearing its ugly head.

And then it proved you wrong.

“Art I’m fine.” You could hear his concern down the phone as you sat on his bed, mentally counting your breaths to try and keep some semblance of calm. “You sure? I can come back for a-”

“No. No stay there and just relax okay? I’ll come find you before it starts.” You could almost picture the concern in his eyes as he sighed before relenting. If you said you were fine you were fine, pushing you would only make it worse.

“Okay but call me if you need okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled slightly tracing shapes over his covers as you ended the call. The room was starting to feel too small as you sat, the air almost stuffy. Nothing had even happened and yet you could already feel the anxiety building.

The pit in your stomach swirled as your hands grew clammy no matter how many times you wiped them on your jeans.

You were fine.

You had to be fine. 

Taking a breath you stood pacing the small space as you tried to halt the attack. Breathe in for 10 out for 10.

In for 10 out for 10.

“Fuck.” Your voice shook slightly as tears began to prick at your eyes, your chest heaving as you tried to pull in a breath that wasn’t there. 

Your eyes darted around the room as you looked for anything to help but came up empty. You couldn’t call him. You knew the minute you did he’d drop everything and you didn’t want that.

No matter how bad this was - and it was bad by your standards - his match was more important.

Wiping the tears you sat back down closing your eyes as you tried to talk yourself through it.

You were fine.

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

The breath he’d been holding since you’d spoken on the phone a few hours ago seemed to finally release as he spotted you in the crowd. His eyes lit up and a bright smile pulled at his lips as he made his way through the crowd towards where you stood, your own eyes lighting up when you noticed him.

“Hey.” He grinned pulling you in for a chaste kiss. “You came.”

“Of course I did.” You laughed but it was strained. Your smile slightly too tight as you fixed the cap over his curls. “You ready?” You asked pulling back ever so slightly. 

“You're shaking.” 

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are I can see your hands.” Art sighed his smile pulling into a frown as he took your hand in his. “Your freezing as well.” 

Your face was still pulled into a tight smile but he saw right through it. The slight draw in your brow and the redness around your eyes gave you away almost immediately. Before you could say anything else he was pulling you through the crowd and behind the bleachers.

You swallowed back the tears which burned at your eyes. It had taken the whole two hours since the phone call for you to calm down even an inch and even now you still felt sluggish in your own body. 

“Art m’fine.” Your voice shook as you closed your eyes. 

“No your not.” He shook his head pushing a strand of hair from your face. “Why didn’t you call me?” You always called! It was bad enough knowing you’d walked from the dorms to the court like this but knowing you’d very possibly been like this since he’d last called you?

His own heart was racing at the thought.

“I didn’t wanna distract you.” His hand was now rubbing over your shoulder as you wiped at your eyes. “I know how much this means to you-”

“The match doesn’t matter.” He shook his head gently, tilting your chin up. Part of you already felt better just being near him, his presence a comfort in itself.

“Nothing matters more than you.” He smiled his eyes filled with warmth as his thumb flicked away a tear. “I’m not playing until I know you're okay. I can’t play knowing you're feeling like this.”

He pulled you closer rubbing a hand over your back. The match would never be more important than you - hell tennis would always come second to you. The fact the thought even crossed your mind was enough to have him debating putting the racket down and pulling you back to his dorm.

“Promise me you're still gonna play.” You whispered tucking your face into the crook of his neck as you breathed in the gentle scent of his aftershave for a moment. Your lungs seemed to work again as you pressed closer, sinking into his body.

“We’re not talking about tennis.” He murmured balancing his chin on your head. “You're all that matters.”

He meant his words, every single one of them. Sure he would play in the tournament but only once he knew you were okay, until then it was the last thing on his mind.

Tennis could never hold a torch to his love for you.

[byechristopher]

fuck'em all, but us.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST.

Author's note: Hello, little angels. I have been gone for months, but I've been wanting to write something for a while now. Excuse me for the hiatus. However, I still can not promise that I'll be consistent from now on – but i love you still. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: HELLA LONG. This is almost 3.000 words, sweet Jesus. As usual, if you know me, I like writing about dark, angsty shit. Nothing too bad, but you know, mention of fights, blood, smoking, etc.

I caught Chris staring at me again, that same cold, unreadable expression on his face. He had a cigarette between his fingers, as usual. His eyes were like ice, and whenever they landed on me, I felt a chill run down my spine. He never says anything — just watches, arms crossed, jaw clenched, as if I’ve done something to offend him without even knowing it. I don’t understand what I did to make him look at me that way, like he’s barely holding back some hidden resentment. And yet, every time I catch him watching, I can’t help but wonder what he’s really thinking.

I’ve seen him with a few other people. He’s not exactly warm with them either, but there’s something different when he talks to them, a sort of casual ease. With me, it’s like he’s built up walls — high, thick ones, and I’m just standing outside, banging on the gates. And every now and then, I think I catch a glimpse of something behind them, something vulnerable and unexpected, but it’s gone before I can be sure.

Chris was my older brother's closest friend, and he has been ever since they were little kids. No one ever got as close to him as my brother did. Whereas when it came to me, he was rather cold; I never understood why.

My thoughts were roughly interrupted by my brother's hand, which took a strand of my hair and pulled on it to annoy me.

"Ow, you fucking asshole!"

"Hey, wake the fuck up. I said me and Chris are leaving." I rolled my eyes and looked at Chris one more time, seeing that he still had that same look on his face.

Deciding to ignore it one more time, "yeah, bye. God." I said and grabbed the remote to switch on the TV.

I didn’t want to watch anything in particular; I’d just rather avoid looking at my brother’s best friend once again.

"Where the hell are you?"

A notification popped up and before I read the sender's name, I already knew it was Fred. My ex.

Of course, I ignored it, but deep down, I knew he was losing it. Ever since we broke up, he’s been acting stranger and stranger — showing up at places he knows I’ll be, sending messages that alternate between apologies and accusations. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants me back or wants to make me regret ever knowing him. I kept telling myself he’d get over it eventually, that he just needed time. But lately, his behavior had me on edge, and I began wondering if he’d ever really let go.

I’d never go back to him; that’s something I’m certain of. He crossed too many lines, left too many scars I can’t forget. But now, it’s like he’s everywhere—lurking just out of sight, always one step behind me. I feel his presence even when he’s not there, a constant, heavy reminder that he’s still watching, still obsessing.

I’ve started checking over my shoulder more often, catching myself dreading the sound of my phone vibrating with yet another message from him. I tell myself it’s just paranoia, that he’s all talk and no real threat. But some small part of me can’t shake the fear that this time, he might actually be out of control.

And I was right to be cautious. Because he finally crossed the line I’d been hoping he’d stay behind. When I got home, my stomach twisted as I saw it; my car, with its tires slashed and a deep scratch running along the side. It was unmistakably his work; I’d ignored his messages, blocked his number, and now he was trying to force my attention.

My hands shook as I took in the damage, a mix of anger and dread flooding through me. How could he stoop this low? He knew that car was everything to me, the one thing I’d saved for and bought on my own. The memories of late nights spent driving to clear my head, the freedom it gave me — he’d tainted all of it in a single, desperate act. I wanted to scream, to call him and let him know just how furious I was. But I knew that’s exactly what he wanted.

He wanted a reaction, wanted me to feel trapped and afraid, wanted to pull me back into his twisted little game. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I took a deep breath, locked my jaw, and stared at my car.

"What.. the fuck is that?" My brother's voice echoed in my ears and I turned around to see that he was with Chris.

"Fred. Fucking Fred." I screamed, not able to contain my anger.

"That bastard.. I will fucking kill him." He said and got closer to the car to see the damage, "calm down" was what Chris said to him.

Chris looked shocked and angry, he walked towards me, "this motherfucker lives nearby?"

"Yeah… just a few blocks away." I sat down on the ground, pulling my legs to my chest and hugging them tightly. I looked up at Chris, my voice trembling, "that was my fucking car..." a tear slipped down my cheek, and in that moment, I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Chris clenched his jaw, and I felt a rush of warmth as his hand reached down to cup my cheek. His touch was soft, gentle, and completely disarming. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had held me like that, with such tenderness. He looked down at me with a promising expression, his eyes filled with determination. “I’ll see what I can do about your car. I might have a friend who can fix it.”

His thumb brushed softly against my skin, and I felt a flutter in my stomach, a strange mix of comfort and something deeper. The way he touched me sent a shiver down my spine, pulling me out of my anger for just a moment. In such a chaotic moment, I couldn’t help but think it was nice seeing him like this for once. I stayed silent and leaned into his hand, seeking that warmth, desperate for a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.

I was rather quiet the following days – I didn't want to go out of the house much. Not because this asshole scared me with what he did, but because that car meant a lot to me. Me and my brother lived by ourselves, and that car was the only thing I could call my own. Fred would pay and I'd make sure of that.

I was alone in my room getting ready for work, trying to drown out the chaos of the previous days when I heard the front door slam shut. My heart raced with curiosity and unease. Just as I was about to head downstairs, my brother’s voice boomed through the house, cutting through the silence, “what the hell happened to you?”

I sprang to my feet, instinctively rushing toward the sound of the voices. As I reached the living room, I froze at the sight before me. Chris was leaning against the wall, blood dripping from a cut on his eyebrow and cheek, and staining his shirt. My brother stood in front of him, fists clenched, a mixture of concern and fury etched across his face.

“Chris, what the actual fuck!” my brother exclaimed, his voice a mix of anger and worry. Chris turned his gaze toward me, and in that moment, everything else faded. Despite the blood and bruises, there was a softness in his eyes that held me captive, a silent plea that made my heart race.

“I’m fine,” Chris replied, though his voice was strained. He shifted slightly, not even a single emotion of fear, or pain, nothing. If anything, he had a pleased expression on his face, I could almost make out a smile. My brother continued to glare at him, demanding answers, but Chris seemed unwilling to give them to him.

“What happened?” I asked, stepping closer, my heart pounding. Chris’s gaze flickered back to my brother, and for a brief moment, I felt a wave of unease wash over me. I could sense that whatever had happened involved more than just a simple altercation, and the tension in the air was thick with unspoken words.

"Nothing happened. I just shouldn't have gone to Mike's. There was another fight and I got involved." My brother seemed to know what he was talking about, because his whole body language changed, softened.

"I told you, asshole. You should never go to Mike's. This bar is a shithole." He went off to the kitchen, probably going to grab something to clean the blood.

I walked closer to Chris, my sweaty fingers digging into my leather bag. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers trembling as I brushed against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin contrasted by the coolness of the blood that trickled down from the cut above his eyebrow.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, my heart racing. “Does it hurt a lot?” My fingertips lingered on his skin, tracing the line of the wound as if I could somehow erase the pain with my touch. His eyes locked onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them — vulnerability, frustration, and a glimmer of something deeper that sent shivers down my spine.

He winced slightly at my touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into my hand, a subtle gesture that felt almost intimate in the tense air between us.

“Not much.” he said, his voice low and rough, but it was the way he looked at me that stole my breath. There was a rawness in his gaze, as if he was baring a part of himself that he’d kept hidden, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, my thumb brushing lightly over his jawline, searching his eyes for reassurance. The moment felt suspended in time, a fragile bubble where nothing else mattered but the two of us. His expression softened, and I could see the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain.

“I will be,” he replied, his gaze steady and unwavering, filled with a mixture of gratitude and something that felt like longing. It was as if, in that brief exchange, we shared an unspoken promise — a connection that transcended the chaos around us. My heart raced, and for the first time since the chaos began, I felt a sense of calm in the storm.

Having to go to work and leave him like this pained me, but I had to go, "I have to go to work.." I explained.

"Mhm. D'you want me to take you to work?" He said and I sighed.

"No. Of course not. Stay here, with my brother. I'll see you.. later." I nodded my head and said goodbye one last time before leaving.

The night air was cool against my skin as I walked home from work, each step feeling heavier than the last. The streetlights cast a faint glow on the pavement, illuminating the shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly in the darkness. My thoughts were consumed by what had happened — I couldn’t shake the image of him standing there, bloodied yet resilient, leaning into my touch.

My heart raced at the memory, but alongside it was a gnawing concern. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into? It was like him to end up in trouble, but I'd never actually see him like this.

As I approached my apartment, a sudden impulse gripped me. I didn’t want to go home and drown in my thoughts; I wanted to see Chris again. I needed to know he was okay, to check on him in a way that felt more personal than just a casual conversation. With each step toward his place, a mix of anxiety and anticipation bubbled within me.

I turned the corner, the familiar path leading me to his apartment building. The windows were dimly lit, casting a warm glow that made me feel a little lighter despite the weight of everything else. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was overstepping or if he’d even want to see me after everything that had happened. But the thought of him alone, nursing his wounds and possibly replaying the day in his mind, pushed me forward.

I climbed the stairs, my heart pounding louder with each step. When I reached his door, I raised my hand and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the silence of the hallway. What if he wasn’t ready to see me? But as I waited, I couldn’t help but hope that he’d open the door, that he’d let me in — not just to his apartment, but to whatever was going on in his life.

"What.. are you doing here?" He furrowed his eyebrows, a little band-aid covering the wound on his eyebrow now, a cigarette between his lips.

"Sorry, Chris.. I couldn't.. stop thinking about you. I mean.. what happened to you.. today." I was nervous, I couldn't quite understand why.

He cleared his throat and stepped aside to let me in, and of course, I wasted no time. I sat down on his couch and he sat down beside me. So many years of knowing him, and I've never actually been inside his house, so I took a quick look around, trying to take in everything I could.

"I'm fine. I told you." He insisted and sipped from his beer that was on the coffee table, his cigarette nearly done now.

"Your cheek is swollen, you didn't even bother putting some ice on it. Geez." I huffed and got up to go to the kitchen, opening the freezer and wrapping some ice cubes in a towel.

I walked back to him and sat closer to him, cupping his cheek and gently pressing the ice on his other cheek. Only then did I realise how close we were, I could feel his breath fanning over my lips, his dark blue eyes staring into mine.

"My fiend. Zack. He will help you with the car." He whispered and I whispered back, "thank you.. so much."

The sight of him so vulnerable, the blood still seeping from the cut and the way he tried to mask the pain, made something deep within me stir. I forgot about everything else — the fight, the worry, the uncertainty of where we stood. All I could focus on was him and the way he looked at me, those fierce eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and something more that made my pulse quicken.

I could see the way he held back a flinch, how he tried to remain stoic despite the pain. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, a flush of desire that surprised me. I wanted to kiss him, to close the distance between us and erase the hurt with something softer, something intimate.

As I leaned closer, his gaze flickered to mine, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Chris,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as I hesitated just inches from his face. I could sense that he was just as caught up in the moment as I was, his eyes darkening with something that mirrored my own feelings.

Then, before I could overthink it, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both afraid of what this moment meant. But as I felt him respond, his hand gently cupping my neck, deepening the kiss, I knew I had crossed a line that I never wanted to return from.

The kiss was hungry, needy. I needed to catch my breath. As we pulled away for a breath, my heart raced, and I felt a rush of conflicting emotions, “this is so wrong..” I whispered, my forehead resting against his.

“I know,” Chris replied, his voice thick with desire. He searched my eyes, a mix of guilt and longing swirling between us, "I cant stop now.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” I breathed, feeling the warmth of his body so close. Yet I leaned in again, capturing his lips with mine once more.

He pulled back slightly, looking conflicted, “what if your brother finds out?”

“I don’t.. care right now,” I admitted, my hands threading through his hair as I kissed him again, the heat of the moment overwhelming any reservations I had, “I just want to be here with you.”

“I shouldn’t want this,” he murmured against my lips, his breath mingling with mine, “but I do.”

“Me too,” I confessed, pulling him closer, lost in the moment, “I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered, his eyes darkening with intensity, “don't think about anything else.”

With that, we dove back into the kiss, the world outside fading as we lost ourselves in each other.

As I left Chris's apartment that night, a rush of exhilaration filled me, and I realised that the unexpected had happened; my ex hadn’t reached out at all since the incident with the car. And for the first time in weeks, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

A few days later, while I was passing by my brother's room, I heard him talking on the phone. Curiosity piqued, I paused outside the door, trying to listen in.

“I can’t believe you did that, man,” my brother said, his tone a mix of disbelief and admiration, “how did you even find his place?”

“This bitch peed his pants when he saw me.” Chris replied, his voice low but amused, “it wasn't that hard, just had to ask around.”

Something shifted inside of me, realizing that Chris had taken matters into his own hands.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that, I was planning on destroying his car instead", my brother said.

“But I wanted to,” Chris replied firmly, and I could hear him chuckle at what my brother said next.

I stepped back, my heart racing. So, it was Chris who had put an end to my ex’s harassment. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. I knew then that my feelings for Chris were deeper than I had allowed myself to acknowledge, and knowing he had my back made me feel safer than ever.

I found myself running back to his apartment again, right then and there, running up the stairs of his building as if someone was chasing me. I knocked on the door, loud enough for him to open it quickly, worry written in his eyes.

"What–"

And this time I didn't let him finish. With tears in my eyes, I pressed my lips against his and lost myself in his arms.

⠀

⠀

⠀

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Nine: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, nude vids/pics, rape mentioned (somnophilia), gen. sexual content, Panic/Anxiety Attack, forced nudity [Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin/Ghost having thoughts?? Unselfish ones?? Luke can’t stop roasting/sassing you [diary entries from Ani] [texting/letters/notes]extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: August 10th

I think enough time has passed. I think you’re ready to see Ghost again.

I thought it would take longer for you to recover, but as always, the little fawn in you is curious as ever. Quick to forget fear and ready for the newest challenge.

You’ve responded so well to everything. I’m very proud of you.

I’ve been keeping up with my visits, still cleaning, still watching, still following and protecting.

Now that you know of Ghost, I’ve started completing my tasks. I don’t have to leave anything halfway finished, the dishes are done everyday along with the vacuuming and dusting. I even mop twice a week.

And change the cat litter, which might I add, is disgusting. (Worth it though because I love that little menace.)

I thought for sure you’d run and tell me that you didn’t think the alarms I installed weren’t working, but you didn’t, you just repeatedly tested them yourself. It was very loud, very annoying and I know you could hear the woman down the hall banging her pots and pans together to fight back with her own noise. You didn’t care though, you just wanted to make sure the alarms worked.

They do work, I wouldn’t have installed fake ones, that would be stupid. I’m all for keeping you safe so… what’s one more safety measure?

I just know that they can also be very easily disarmed. Even through the inch and a half thick wooden door to your apartment. A piece of sheet metal (credit card sized) and my handy dandy super strength magnet works like a charm.

You’re such an odd bird. You haven’t told anyone, I don’t think it’s really even crossed your mind too much either. You’ve begun to pretend the cameras aren’t even there. You just go about your normal day to day life and occasionally squint and stare at random objects.

You never actually go check them out though. Is it all for show? I think it might be.

I think you like being watched. I bet it makes you feel safe doesn’t it? Knowing I’m always there for you?

——————————————————————————

You know what the best part of all this is?

Ghost will let me love you in the way that is natural and normal to me. I just hope that you’ll be willing to accept that we are one in the same.

Ghost can comfortably do all the things that I’ve been afraid to. I didn’t want to scare you, but it really was difficult not to leave you things. I’m so glad that you brought that up in your list of questions because it gave me the opportunity to act on it without you flipping out.

Do you like them? I love leaving things for you. Especially little notes.

Ghost has been kind enough to stay out of your way when I’m around, but I can resist making you squirm occasionally. Remember when I left you a note, KNOWING I’d be coming home with you later that day?

Oh babe. It was so oddly intoxicating to see the way you reacted when I got back home and pulled up the footage. You snatched up that slip of paper didn’t read it and didn’t toss it in the trash, didn’t put it in your pocket.

You shoved it in your mouth so I wouldn’t see it. Freak.

I saw it all chewed up and gross in the bathroom trash. You didn’t read it. I know you didn’t. So I’ll have to get alittle more creative.

Don’t ignore me.

DATE

August 13th

For the third morning in a row you woke up to a text from your own cellphone number.

‘Sleep well deer?’

Idiot. Can’t even spell. So finally on this third day, you sent a text back and corrected him.

‘Dear*’

Immediately a response buzzed through.

‘No.’

No? What does he mean no?

‘Little doe. My deer. 🦌’

Oh great, so stalkers use emojis and he’s given you a nickname. How cute.

You laid back in your bed and tossed your phone aside, hands covering your face as you rubbed the sleep away.

The longer this went on, the more insane you felt. This wasn’t normal, of course it’s not normal. So why are you allowing it?

You could ask yourself that a million times and you’d never find an answer.

You could throw away every flower he brought you and they’d still keep coming. You could burn every piece of paper in the city and chew every pen until it’s broken beyond repair and he would still find a way to write you a note.

You could swallow every word he writes, throw it up, flush it, whatever. It’s just going to pop back up. Gross and soggy with an amendment attached and in your panty drawer.

You thought maybe it was an important one. So you read it. Quickly discovered it was semi-important, Ghost just wanted to remind you that he loved you and he was proud of you for continuing to drink your tea even though you knew it was drugged. Once you’re out of it, he’s going to set the pills out next to your birth control. So he ‘doesn’t have to fool with measurements anymore’.

The addendum to the note was tucked inside the original:

‘Good girls swallow.’

You could ignore the trinkets, the jewelry or the pretty stones and shells. But he would just move them to a different spot and force you to eventually set it in your jewelry box along with all the others.

He’s not been bold enough to come around with Anakin in your home. The nights that Anakin sleeps over, there are no gifts, no cleaning done. No disturbances.

But Anakin doesn’t deter him completely.

He’s left you one note at Anakin’s apartment, the first time you’d slept away from your own home in ages. Ghost had the audacity to slip a note into the pocket of your shorts while you slept in the same bed as Anakin in his apartment.

It didn’t say anything, no words, just a heart in red ink. Like he just wanted to remind you that he was there and you were his whether you wanted to be or not. Anakin or no Anakin, Ghost didn’t care.

It’s been horrible lying… omitting the truth to Anakin. Sometimes you feel like blurting it out, but something always stops you. Morbid curiosity maybe. Or maybe you just like the thrill of it, that little shiver of adrenaline you get every time he makes himself known.

It would all stop if you told Anakin. Neither would quit until he’d hunted the other man down and gotten rid of him.

They’d kill each other.

——————————————————————————

Anakin worked tonight, so you had plans to meet up with Luke (sans his pet leech) for a late evening dinner. As much as you loved Han and appreciated everything he did for Luke, how happy he made him, you really just wanted some time alone with your best friend.

So you were thrilled to receive a text around 1:00pm from Luke:

‘Don’t be late. I’m dying to catch up babe.’

You quickly opened the message but before you finished typing, a voice message popped up in your notifications, sent from your number.

You abandoned the chat with Luke and opted to open the voice message instead.

‘I’m coming home.’ then a long pause, ‘have fun with Lukey.’

That scratchy filtered voice; you’d yet to hear it over the phone and this being the first time… it sent you right back to the very first time you watched Scream. That icy chill that snuck up the back of your neck, the tightening of your chest… you felt it now, just not because of fear.

You felt it because you were excited.

——————————————————————————

“Okay, seriously what do you keep looking at?” Luke prodded, snatching your phone and sliding it into his jacket pocket.

“Nothing it’s just-“

“My phone is on ‘do no disturb’, because I have missed my buddy, my pal, my best friend.” He paused, his pointer finger jabbing the table between your plate and his.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I haven’t even unlocked it! It’s just sitting there.”

“True, but the obnoxious tapping to check whatever it is you’re hoping for is getting annoying.” Honesty, brutal or not, was Luke’s love language.

“Fine. I’m sorry, I’ll put it in my pocket.” You agreed, holding your hand out palm up.

“No ma’am. This is mine until the check comes.” His answer was definitive, no room for argument there. “What’s so important anyway? I know Anakin is at work.”

“It’s just work stuff.” You huffed.

“Oh? What’s so pressing at the diner?” He scoffed, “got a big shipment of ketchup coming in? Are you ‘on call’?”

“Luke.” You rolled your eyes at his jab. “No and yes. I am ‘on call’ actually. Sara’s son has been sick.’

Not a total lie, he has been sick. Poor guy. But her husband was home with him and he was being well looked after.

“Okay? That’s your problem how?”

“God you’re so negative sometimes.” You sighed. “Her babysitter hates vomit. If he throws up Sara will have to go home.”

“Ew.” He scrunched up his nose. “I’m eating.”

“Okay? That’s my problem how?” You said mockingly.

“Really? Like for real that’s why you keep checking your phone?”

“Yes really.” Giving him a look that screamed duh’. “Her baby sitter is the 14 year old girl that lives next door to her. Do you really suggest leaving a 14 year old in charge of a vomiting 2 year old? When that 14 year old is disgusted by puke? That’s a recipe for disaster.”

It would be a disaster, her sitter is 14. She just happens to be on vacation with her mother right now. Hence the temporary stay at home husband.

“Okay, first of all, 14? Isn’t that alittle young?”

“No? I started babysitting when I was 12.” You shrugged.

“Fine.” Luke sighed. “Here.”

He slid your phone back to you and propped his chin up on his fist. Watching you check it one last time before turning on the sound and putting it in your back pocket.

——————————————————————————

‘I’m walking home now!’

You shot off the text to Anakin after saying your goodbye to Luke at the restaurant. You’d refused his offer to walk you home, you didn’t want him anywhere near your apartment building knowing that Ghost would be there.

Six minutes later he replied:

‘Good girl.🥰 let me know when you get there safe.’

‘Will do💕’

And you did, the moment you stood outside your apartment door.

‘Made it! See you tomorrow💕’

You waited in the hall to receive his response. You didn’t know what would be waiting for you on the other side of this door, and you didn’t want to chance it.

‘Perfect. Sweet dreams doll!’

Your hand poised at the door knob, you inserted your key to discover your door was already unlocked. You very slowly opened the door, but saw no one in your kitchen or living room.

But your bedroom door was closed, boogie hadn’t meowed as loudly as possible and sprinted to you, demanding to be fed. He did say that they were good friends. So they both must be in your room.

Would it be wise to lock your door? The few precious seconds leaving it unlocked would save if you needed to run… no, no. Just lock it. Doorknob. Deadbolt. Chain.

‘Just stay calm’

You kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag to the floor, walking quietly across the carpeted living room to pause in front of your bedroom. A soft yellow glow shone beneath the door, your lamp must be on. You could hear your tv playing something, not quite sure what it was, but it had the all too familiar cadence of a horror flick.

The audacity of this man astounded you.

When you pushed open the door, he was laying in your bed, shoes off, legs crossed at the ankles, propped against the headboard, arms behind his head. He looked like he belonged there. As big a contrast as it was… your soft, pink, feminine room and him. All black, the mask. He just looked so comfortable.

Your cat, the little traitor, was curled up on his chest. It was kind of sweet. How could such an inherently terrifying scenario seem so normal?

Ever so casually he tilted his head toward you, his right hand raising from its relaxed position to lazily give you gloved finger waggle for a wave.

“Have fun?” The filtered voice drifted over to you.

“Yes.” You answered quietly, glued to the spot.

“Are you just going to stand there?” He laughed. “I would come pick you up, but it’s illegal to move a sleeping cat.” He gestured to boogie who had still not moved from her human pillow.

You couldn’t help but laugh, eyebrows raised in an expression of awe filled shock. This was too weird. Too normal. Too scarily alluring.

Yet you found yourself at the edge of the bed, not really knowing how you got there to begin with.

“Sat you some pajamas out.” He said dismissively, the mask fixed onto the tv screen. “Figured you’d wanna change.”

“Huh.” You snorted, seeing that he had.

You expected to see one of your lacy lingerie sets. But he’d chosen something much more modest that you would’ve ever imagined. Loose, thin, stretchy fabric pajama pants, the matching cropped tank top, and fuzzy socks.

“Um. Thanks?” You said awkwardly, picking them up and turning on your heels to change in the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He chuckled.

“To the bathroom?” You scoffed, looking over your shoulder at him.

“You can change in here.” He wasn’t offering. He was telling you.

“No way.” You shook your head. “No I’m not-“

“C’mon little doe.” The filtered voice left little room for change in tone, but you could tell from his body language that it was a challenge.

“Ghost. No! I have Anakin I don’t-.”

He laughed. “I don’t care.”

“Well I do.”

“Mmm… not enough. You’re letting me be here. You didn’t tell him. You didn’t mention me to anyone at all actually.” He pointed out.

“Well that’s not-“

“Hush.” He snapped, making you stall. “I’ve seen that pretty little body of yours plenty of times. What’s one more?”

“But-“ your face was so red hot that you could feel the heat spreading down your neck.

“What? I’m not gonna get up.” He said plainly. “I’m comfy right here where I can watch you.”

“I don’t… this isn’t right.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me.” He scoffed. “Nothing about this is ‘right’. But you’re letting it happen, yeah?” He said and got just a nod from you in response.

“That’s it.” He moved his arm to point two fingers at you, “get on with it sweetheart. I wanna see my girl.”

“I’m not your-“

“You were mine first.” He snapped.

“Well, that’s not very fair.” Your voice shaking. “I didn’t even know you were��. I didn’t know about you!”

“That might be true.” He growled, “but it’s your fault for being so ignorant.”

“I-I don’t…” you felt like you were on the verge of a tantrum. This man was outrageous, coming into your home uninvited, being a fucking perv, acting like he owns the place, and now he’s calling you ignorant?

“Do you realize how stupid it is for you to argue with me about the morality of all this?” He asked, going back to his former relaxed state.

“You. Are allowing me to be here. You had all day to call the cops if you wanted to. But you didn’t.” That smug little bastard laughed. “I’ve been here for over two hours. You knew I’d be here when you got back.”

“That’s not-“

“I’m not finished.” He held up a finger and silenced you. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine and you will continue to be mine.”

“I don’t care that you are pretending to be appalled by the situation you are in.” His voice was even and unyielding, he was so confident in his statements.

“You know why I don’t care?” He asked, tilting his head toward you condescension oozing from every pore.

“Why?” You squeaked.

“Because I know, without a doubt, that if I were to stick my hand down your pretty pink panties; you’d be wet right now.”

How did he know what color your underwear is? Better question: why is that the first thing you thought of when there were much more pressing matters at hand?

“That’s not true.” Your voice sounded hollow.

“It’s not?” He laughed. “Show me then.”

“What?” You whispered, eyes bugging out of your head.

“Do it. Prove to me that you’re not soaked.” He snickered.

“That’s not fair you can’t just-“

“You’re not running are you? You haven’t said no, you haven’t come over here and smacked me.” He interrupted.

You stood there with your jaw dropped, you needed a dustpan and broom to sweep up your shattered facade of denial. How could you dispute that?

“Fine!” You shouted. “Fine. I’ll just change in here.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.” He growled. “You’re awfully bold for a spoiled brat.”

“I am not a-“

“When will you stop disagreeing with me?” He laughed. “You know it’s true. I’ve spoiled you so much that you’ve rotted to your core. You weren’t always a brat, but you are now. You like being spoiled don’t you? Being taken care of, being treated like a princess?”

“Your little boyfriend does the same thing doesn’t he?” He snickered. “Spoiled. Brat.”

“You’re just a little girl who needs a man to hold her hand.”

“You’re being mean.” You whispered, your voice breaking.

“The truth is hard to hear isn’t it little doe?” He said, his voice going back to its nonchalant, flat tone.

You couldn’t argue. He’d been right about everything and it’s difficult to argue with someone who throws fact after fact at you like he’s doing. So you took a deep breath and closed your bedroom door.

“Atta girl.” He nodded. “Show me.”

So you did, you turned around and began undressing, you could feel his eyes on you, soaking up the display you were crafting for him.

“Turn around.” His voice alittle quieter, the voice box crackling.

Slowly you complied, swallowing your fear and embarrassment. You kept your eyes closed, it made you feel the slightest bit better, I’m the way a kid would think ‘I can’t see you so you can’t see me’.

“Gorgeous.” He breathed out.

Behind your eyelids you swear you noticed a change in lighting, briefly, but enough to take note of. Your eyes snapped open and saw him holding up his phone.

He’d taken a picture of you.

“Ghost, no! Delete that right now!” You squealed, quickly getting dressed in your fresh pajamas.

“Cool it.” He waved you off. “Just gonna add it to my special folder just for you. See?” He turned his screen toward you and you inched forward.

He wasn’t lying. He scrolled through over one hundred images and videos, some of you in public, some nude, some of you sleeping. All in a folder titled ‘little doe’.

“These are for me.” He said simply. “They’re not going anywhere so don’t worry about that.”

“But these…” he turned the screen back to himself and tapped twice, scrolled and then tapped again before flipping it around.

The images in front of you made you nauseous.

You, spread legs and wet cunt, up close.

You with your hand being held up by Ghost, your fingers buried deeply between your folds.

A short video of your pussy being lovingly stroking by a leather glove. Another of one long digit pumping into you slowly.

A picture of your lips wrapped around his cock.

“S-so you did… you did touch me?” You recoiled.

“No.” He said flatly, before you could protest he laughed.

“You loved it.” He snickered. “Never let you cum. I wanted you to be needy for me.”

“Until… until I saw you.” You whispered.

“Mhm, that’s right.” He nodded. “Took care of your poor swollen pussy properly that time.” He cooed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“You’re sick.” You breathed out. “That’s disgusting… you-“

“Call the cops.” He said gesturing to your phone laying on the bed.

“What?”

“You heard me. Call ‘em.” He snorted. “If I’m so sick and disgusting and you’re soooo horrified by my actions; call the cops. I’ll wait right here.”

“Are you gonna send those to Anakin?” Your voice wobbled as you ignored his challenge. You both knew you wouldn’t call.

“Not if you’re good.”

“Are you gonna hurt him?” You asked quietly.

“Now why would I do a thing like that?” He scoffed. “I want you all to myself, but I want you to choose me. I’m not gonna go all Dexter on your boyfriend.”

“You promise?” You sniffled. “Swear it?”

“Pinky swear.” He said confidently, holding out his hand with his little finger raised.

For some reason you took it. You believed him. He hadn’t gotten up and forced you to do anything, he stayed right there the whole time. He had yet to share those pictures with Anakin. A million other twisted reasons you’d started to accept that this was becoming a new normal. A thousand other things that pushed you to believe him.

He’d only bruised your self image with his cold, hard truths about you. That’s not a crime. That’s a reality check.

“Good choice little doe!” You could practically hear the beaming smile on his face behind the plastic mask.

“Now come up here.” He patted the spot next to him. “I don’t like seeing you upset, I’m sorry.”

He was apologizing? He was apologizing.

“You’re sorry?” You repeated in shock.

“Of course I’m sorry. You’re on the verge of tears and I’ve caused it.” He said, holding out his hand palm up for you to take.

“I’m not a monster.”

You hesitated before accepting his hand and climbing into bed beside him. You sat a safe distance from him at first but he lolled his head to the side in what you assumed was a dramatic eye roll and tugged you to his side in a one armed swoop.

The action had you frozen. This was it. He was gonna hurt you. You’d been naive and stupid and he was going to violate you, this time while you were conscious, you’d remember it this time.

“Relax.” He soothed, tucking you comfortably against his side, his bicep behind your head as a pillow and his gloved hand on your side in a way that was almost comforting. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You whispered, what the fuck is happening?

“No, it’s not okay. I could’ve been more gentle with my words.” His opposite hand rubbing his knuckles across your cheek lovingly.

You were quiet for a moment, debating on the course of action you should take. You were in fact very much allowing this to occur. Would it be so horrible to try and enjoy it? He was warm. He smelled nice and familiar, the cologne… you must have a subtle memory of it from all the times he’d been here while you slept. He was comfortable. He was surprisingly kind.

What’s the worst that could happen?

“Before you get comfy.” He spoke quietly, the voice box crackling from his low voice, “you didn’t take your pill.”

“Oh yeah you’re right.” You moved to get up, pink cheeked because once again he proved that you were in fact helpless without him.

“Don’t get up, I have it right here.” He chuckled, reaching over to the nightstand and handing you the pill packet and a thermos. “Tea.”

“Huh.” You stared at him. Gods this was so fucking weird. “Well… wow okay.” You huffed out a laugh and took your medicine with a sip of your tea.

“Tastes different.” You said, handing the packet back to him.

“Mhm. Yeah I poisoned it.” He said nonchalantly, making you almost choked on your second sip.

“You what?” You shrieked, waking up the cat who bolted from his lap.

“Aw look what you did,” he groaned gesturing to the empty space with a few stray cat hairs.

“You- are you serious?” You started to almost hyperventilate. “Should I make myself throw up?”

Why are you asked the man who poisoned you that? Like he’d tell you.

“No, that would be a waste of good tea.” He snorted. “I put cinnamon in it you idiot.”

“What?”

“Cinnamon.” He repeated. “It’s just cinnamon. It was a joke.”

“That’s not fucking funny!” You shouted, smacking his shoulder.

“Ive already told you once.” His hand shot out and grabbed your jaw firmly. “Do not. Raise. Your voice. At me.” He growled.

“I believe you meant to say ‘ha-ha, ghost that was funny. you got me!’” He snickered and released your jaw, soothing you with his hand now gently raking through your hair.

You were stunned. Absolutely shook by his quick turnaround, this should be terrifying. This man can be so gentle one moment and the next he’s speaking to you like he’s ordering you to lay down at the guillotine. It wasn’t terrifying in the right way. Not the type of fear you should be feeling at his unpredictable actions.

You weren’t scared of him at all. But yourself? Yes. Who is this girl? Why is she… why do you like this? It’s scary because you’re not scared. It’s horrifying because you want more. It’s terrifying because you’re morbidly curious about what he’d do if you acted out again.

You shook your head and picked your jaw off the floor, deciding the best course of action was to just tuck yourself back under his arm and watch whatever movie he had paused when you entered the room.

Might as well. You’ve already come this far.

Date

August 14th

When you woke up the next morning Ghost was gone. Your home was devoid of any trace of him, no note, no gift, no messages. Nothing.

He had hardly moved while you sat with him, the only consistent movement was the gentle twist and twirl of one long lock of your hair around his finger. It was repetitive and soothing, just like the calming rise and fall of his chest.

How could he be so calm? So off guard?

You could’ve turned on him at any moment. Ripped off his mask and saw who he was, grabbed your lamp and wacked him with it. Punched him in the nuts and ran.

But, to be fair, he could’ve done the same to you. Yet you stayed there, albeit anxious and on high alert for majority of the time spent with him. Despite the fact that you knew he carried a weapon, even though you were well aware of what he’d been doing to you all this time, even after he’d manhandled your face when you smarted off to him.

It must be a twisted form of mutual trust.

Or you might just be delusional.

Either way, it was wrong and you knew that. You intentionally got naked in front of another man, while he laid on the bed your boyfriend so sweetly makes love to you in. You fell asleep in the arms of this man. Not just *any* other man, the one who has been stalking you relentlessly for months.

You’ve cheated on Anakin. If he knew, it would crush him. It would break apart his big, soft, velveteen heart. Your betrayal would rip a hole right through the middle and slice up the fabric so badly it couldn’t be sewn back up without ending up smaller, weaker, and deformed.

What could you do? Was there anything to do? Telling him to his face… the thought of it soured your stomach so badly you thought you might form an ulcer.

Telling Ghost to fuck off and leave you alone wasn’t an option either. No matter what you did, the precautions you put in place; he would find you. Not only would he find you, but he wouldn’t allow Anakin the privilege of breathing anymore.

You couldn’t tell Luke. He’d lecture you until your ears bled while he dragged you to the nearest police station. Then Luke would be in danger, Anakin would know, and Ghost would still be your problem. And if Luke didn’t believe you, he’d ship you off to the long term care loony bin.

Your sister? Of course you couldn’t tell her either. She has her own family. Ghost already knows where she lives, he’s told you so.

He knows everything about you. Your family tree, your friends list, your schedule, your medical information, banking account, he has complete access to your home, your phone…

You are a canary in a cage and he is a cat pawing at you through the metal bars.

It’s only a matter of time before one of those claws nicks you. A feather or two might come loose, open up a weak spot on your frail body. The next swipe might draw blood, maybe it won’t. Or maybe he’ll be lucky enough to bat you to the bottom of the cage.

It’s hard enough to escape when there’s someone always watching. When there’s a lock on the door. But to attempt to flee with broken wings? You couldn’t hobble your way to safety anyway. Bird cages don’t have doors at the bottom, they’re halfway up. They don’t have horizontal bars. You can’t climb.

You are stuck.

It’s up to you if you want to be trapped there intact, or if you’d rather wallow at the bottom in pain.

——————————————————————————

Maybe you should just break up with Anakin.

Ghost said he wouldn’t hurt him, but how long will that last? How long until he gets tired of waiting? Should you ask Ghost again? Just to make sure? Make him sign a fucking contract?

Maybe it would be best if-

“Sweetheart?” Anakin whispered softly, waving his hand in front of your face. “What’s going on? I’ve been standing here for almost a minute.”

Anakin was here.

“What?” You whispered back, suddenly overwhelmingly aware of your surroundings.

The diner. You were at The Bluebird. You were working. A glance to the clock told you that you’d been here for over two hours, a quick scan of the tables and the counter proved that you hadn’t neglected any customers. Your notepad and pen were in your hand, there was money in the tip jar.

Anakin was here.

“Hey, c’mere.” His voice soft and concerned.

He gently took the pad and pen from your hands, put an arm around your shoulder and held your hand as he led you through the kitchen. Not an uncommon occurrence, Anakin was well known to everyone at the Bluebird due to his frequent visits to see you. He often walked with you out through the kitchen to sit on the curb with you while you took a break and he smoked a cigarette.

“Vigo, I’m taking her out back.” He said quietly, speaking to the dishwasher.

“I was about to call you man.” He spoke back in a hushed voice. “She’s been actin’ like that since she got here.”

“Yeah? Well next time don’t wait to call.” Anakin grumbled, scowling at your coworker.

The heat of the afternoon sun soothed over your skin, making you painfully aware of the cold sweat lacing the back of your neck. You blinked and it felt like it was the first time you’d closed your eyes in hours. Your mouth was dry, your teeth felt cold and your brain might’ve been better described as soup.

Anakin sat down on the curb and pulled you down with him. Placing you sideways between his legs, your arms immediately threw themselves around his neck and you curled up into him.

“Jesus baby.” He whispered, the wind getting knocked out of him at your aggressive tackle.

“An-” You started to sob before you even finished his name.

“W-what’s wrong?” You could feel his heart beat quicken beneath you, hear it pounding in his chest. He was feeling real, true panic.

“Hey, hey talk to me. Breathe.” He tried to soothe you by petting your hair, rocking you gently, kissing your forehead… anything, anything he could think of and nothing was working.

You were sobbing so loudly that Anakin was glad there wasn’t a back parking lot. If someone wanted to see where this horrible wailing was coming from they’d have to walk all the way around back, thankfully most people didn’t care enough to do such a thing.

Unfortunately though, your coworkers did care.

The back door creaked open and you could hardly hear the conversation over your own tears.

“Anakin!” Vigo whisper shouted. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t do this!” His voice angrily gritting through his teeth. “What happened today?”

“Nothin’ man! I dunno!” Vigo squeaked raising up his hands in surrender. “She just clocked in like that, no cryin’ though. She’s hardly said a word.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me!” Anakin grunted, “I’m her emergency contact for a reason you idiot.”

“Hey? Don’t get mad at me!” Vigo scoffed. “I figured she was in a funk because of you, why would I call if I thought it was boyfriend troubles?”

“Jesus- did you even ask her?”

“What?”

“Oh my fuckin’-“ Anakin took a breath to regulate himself, one arm firmly holding you while the other was wildly gesturing as he spoke. “Did you ask her what was wrong?”

“No?”

“Are you stupid? God just fuck- go back inside before you end up crying on the ground too.” He snapped at him, huffing as the back door shut behind a quickly retreating Vigo.

“Sorry baby, I’m sorry,” He whispered, petting your head and squeezing you tightly. “I’m sorry, that probably didn’t help did it?”

“N-not really.” You hiccuped out a laugh.

“She speaks.” He gasped, “want me to yell at him some more? I’ll do it just say the word-“

“Anakin-“ you snorted, wiping your eyes and nose on his shirt. “Aw shit sorry.”

“You think I’m worried about alittle snot?” He scoffed, “Sweetheart, I’d lick it out of your nose like a cow if you’d let me. C’mere I’ll prove it.”

He stuck out his tongue and flicked it at you, chasing your face as you squirmed away from him. Despite to horrible ache in your lungs and the scratchy feeling in your throat, Anakin had a way of making everything better. Even if it was accomplished by making a fool of himself.

You laughed in spite of trying to catch your breath, fighting those awkward stalled inhales with a the goofy little giggle only he could force out of you. He relented finally when you gave up struggling, opting for a kiss on the tip of your nose rather than his tongue up your nostril.

“Wanna talk to me now?” He asked quietly, his playful attitude tucked away and replaced with seriousness.

“I don’t know Ani.” You sighed, feeling horribly conflicted. “I just want to go home.”

“Then I’ll take you home.” He said, not leaving room for argument. “But I’m not letting you get up until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Please? Please I don’t wanna talk about it.” Your eyes already filling back up with tears.

“It’s nothing really! It’s okay.” You pleaded with him, “I’m just… I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff and it’s all overwhelming.”

“That’s not okay, don’t say it’s okay. You just wailed like a banshee.” He said sternly. “Talk, let me help.”

“I just feel like I’m losing my mind.” You scoffed, “Im going nuts. I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it without you thinking I’m insane.”

“Princess.” He said, his voice cracking with pain. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“W-what if hypothetically…” you whispered. “It’s only hypothetical okay?”

“Okay. Imaginary scenario, let’s hear it.” He nodded solemnly.

“Hypothetically, if I was having… nightmares of someone being in my house. What would you say.” You whispered.

“Hypothetical nightmares?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. “Well… I’d suggest that maybe you… go to therapy? See if you can find the root of the problem.”

Therapy? To find the root of the problem? That would work if you didn’t already know where to find the problem: in your apartment at any given moment. Hell, he was probably there right now.

“Are you having these dreams because of that night at the bar?” He asked softly, tucking loose hairs behind your ear. “You know we didn’t see anyone put anything in your drink. No one left at the same time as you but your friends.”

“Now like I said before, just because we didn’t see it on camera… it doesn’t mean that no one slipped something in your drink. Stuff like that unfortunately happens all the time.” He sighed.

“I know.” You nodded, your eyes wet and sad, you knew you weren’t drugged there. You were drugged in the security of your own home. “I know, I think maybe I was just alittle more tipsy than I thought I don’t-“

“Hey, no… it’s okay.” He soothed you. “I believe you.”

“But there was no one who followed you home from the bar. I can say that with 100% certainty okay?” He said sternly.

“Ani but-“

“Look at me.” He said sharply, his voice turning soft again immediately after. “No one followed you home. I watched that video a hundred times over from every angle possible. No one else left the bar until about 17 minutes after you and your friends left.”

“Now don’t get upset baby okay? Listen I know, I know that it scared you shitless.” He said in a pained way, his face not quite matching his tone of voice like he was having a hard time trying to decide how to respond.

“Which is perfectly valid. It’s totally okay to be terrified if you saw something like that.” He soothed you, squeezing your upper arms. “I’m not saying it didn’t happen, I would never say that. If you say that you saw something, I believe you.”

“But, just because you saw it… doesn’t mean that it was truly there. Those kind of drugs can really fuck with your head baby.” He said gently.

“I know.” You sniffled, wiping your eyes and hiding against his chest again.

Gods… this man. He really was one of a kind, not just any man or person in general for that matter, would respond so well to such a strange temporary delusion. Your past boyfriends would’ve run for the hills. But not Anakin. It was clear he wasn’t deterred easily, he was your personal emotional support pet leech.

It was strange, feeling so comfortable like this with someone you hadn’t known for very long. After this conversation you thought maybe it would be okay to tell Anakin the truth about it all. He’d handle it perfectly well wouldn’t he?

But, you can’t risk putting him in harms way. You wouldn’t know if Anakin would be safe without first speaking to Ghost. If Anakin was your pet leech… Ghost was the the neighborhood street dog who’d decided your porch was the safest place to sleep. Who would be heartless enough to kick the poor thing out without a proper meal first?

That’s the problem with strays. Give them a scrap and they’ll love you for life.

Diary Entry: August 14th

Jesus baby I’m sorry. I thought things went well last night, I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I really didn’t. I guess you weren’t ready to see Ghost after all.

That’s my fault, I apologize. I should have known better.

It’s just… you seemed kind of excited for it you know? I thought we had a good time. Was the stripping down in front of me what freaked you out so much? Or seeing the pictures? I shouldn’t have done that. I really shouldn’t have, that was too far, too fast.

I see now that I made a mistake and I plan to rectify it as soon as possible. I’m going to give you a choice, one that I really don’t want to give you. But I will for the sake of your sanity.

I’ve been selfish for too long.

I’ve not truly considered your feelings on the situation, I’ve taken your response at face value and never attempted to dig farther than that. It won’t happen again I can assure you of that. Ghost will still be Ghost, but perhaps just a bit more considerate of your opinions and boundaries.

You must understand though, it’s hard to deal with this for me too. I know it’s not fair to compare our separate sides of the situation like this, but it’s true. It’s painful to watch you get so upset over something I’ve done, knowing I can’t really resolve the issue. I don’t know how to help, or fix this.

I’ve dug myself into a hole. A Pit if you will.

How could you ever forgive me now? After all this time that I have been so stupidly self-centered… I imagine it would be unlikely that you could find it in your immensely kind soul to forgive and forget my transgressions.

Maybe not though? I do see you as a godly entity, my own personal deity. If I leave enough at the altar, bow at your feet for long enough, serve you unconditionally… maybe then you would see that I have discovered the error of my ways. You could see that I am truthful in my pursuit of repentance.

Date

August 15th

Anakin drove to the opposite side of the city to purchase your apology gifts from Ghost. He knew well enough that Luke never had a set schedule, Han was always at the gym and you were at book club. There was limited space in time and even smaller proximity of location for him to safely collect the supplies he needed.

If someone saw him buying a dozen red roses and told you about it without his knowledge… well there goes Ghost. It’d be real hard to explain that away.

So he went to the florist, chose the most beautiful bouquet he could find and tucked it away in a large brown bag with tissue paper over the top so he wouldn’t accidentally bruise the petals.

He strolled down the side walk to another small mom and pop store, just to browse through stationary and cards. Ghost needs to be alittle more classy in his opinion. Maybe if his notes are on nice paper and written in plain black ink… that could ease the discomfort of it. It’s probably not super welcoming to find a ripped scrap of paper with red ink scrawled on it now that he’s come to think of it.

It was amusing to him before, but after your display of emotion, he’s feeling guilty. Very, very guilty. There was no reason to go the extra mile on stupid little things like that.

So, pretty grey paper and matching envelopes join the bouquet.

Now he just has to find something else. It can’t be chocolate or something generic. It has to be something meaningful. Something thoughtful to solidify the sentiment behind his offer for you. Something that will push you to make the right decision.

——————————————————————————

Anakin walked into your apartment, and went straight to your bedroom, it was time for Ghost to set up his apology present.

The big red bouquet was carefully placed in the center of your bed along with the pretty stationary propped against it. Your name carefully and neatly written in **black ink** on the envelope.

Your other gift, had turned into two. A small black box accompanying a short and squat black gift bag with grey tissue paper.

He was proud of his staged display, so proud that he couldn’t wait for you to see it. He was itching for you to get home, he needed to know what you’d choose. He was dying to see your pretty face light up with joy at his thoughtfulness.

So against his better judgement, he snapped a picture of himself standing at your bedside. The photo taken from a high angle to capture just the corner of your red rose bouquet, with himself taking up majority of the frame. His mask tilted to the side and his free hand held up a gloved peace sign.

He’d wait to send it.

He wanted to see your face when the message came through.

Anakin was prepared to be patient, but he didn’t have to be patient for long. He got the notification that there was movement out front of the building, he pulled up the live feed from the stairwell camera on his laptop and excitedly jolted up out of his seat before sitting back down quickly to scoot his seat back up to the table.

He rubbed his hands together and practically combusted from the inside when he confirmed it was you. His fingers moved quickly to send the text message and just as he thought you would, you paused and pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a bit of panic and maybe a bit of excitement. But mostly, Anakin was saddened to see fear. You were scared, but so brave as he watched you sprint up the steps. He shook his head and let out a deep breath, pulling up the split screen of all the cameras in your home.

You burst through the front door and slammed it shut, tossing your bag aside. Anakin turned up the volume just a bit and immediately realized that was a mistake because you yelled directly underneath the kitchen camera. The audio crackled as you shouted out for Ghost, Anakin realized then that you must think he’s still inside your home.

‘Just missed me.’ He texted quickly, watching you check your phone quickly and let out a sigh of relief as you muttered under your breath.

He thought you might text back, but why would you when you knew he was watching at that very moment?

“Hey!” You said, spinning in place, your eyes darting around to scan the room. “Where did you go? I didn’t see you!”

You rushed over to the living room window and down to the alley below, then up the fire escape, your gaze traveling over to the next building’s roof.

‘You won’t see me unless I want you to.’ He texted back.

“Jesus.” You muttered, rubbing your wrist anxiously. “I guess you want me to go to my room huh?”

‘Yes please.’

“Fine.” You sighed, kicking off your shoes as you walked over to the bedroom door, flinging it open quickly just incase he was still hiding out.

Your eyes drew to the center of your bed, the roses, the bag and box, the envelope. If the situation weren’t so strange you might consider this a romantic gesture. But it’s not, it’s not romantic and you shouldn’t want to open the gifts and sniff the pretty, sweet smelling flowers. You should want to call the police and have them haul the shit off for evidence.

“What’s all this for?” You asked alittle quieter than before, holding up your phone to read the text as it came through almost instantly as you knew that it would.

‘Letter.’

“Letter? That’s all?” You scoffed, “you did all this for a letter?”

‘It’s important.’ The response came quickly, followed by a second in rapid succession. ‘Gifts first.’

“Okay… alright. Gifts first.” You sighed, pulling your hand back from where it was inches away from the grey envelope.

The small box seemed like a good first thing to open, easy enough to snap shut if you didn’t like what you saw inside. Tentatively shifting the lid back and forth you wiggled it free and lifted the small square of padding to reveal a very nice, very ornate, obviously hand crafted hair-pin with a silver rod for the pin.

You gingerly lifted it from the box and held it in your hand to examine it, walking over to the window to open the curtains and see it more clearly. Smooth, black ceramic, gorgeously curved and curled silver fittings. But the most intriguing, the most breathtaking part of it, was the delicate lines and the daintily carved cameo in the center of the ceramic oval.

A woman standing under a willow, with a fawn at her feet.

You wanted to hate it, but how could you hate something so beautiful? How could you pretend to be unappreciative of something that clearly took time and effort to find, it wasn’t just vintage, it was antique. The fact that he’d searched for and seized the jewelry was a feat in itself.

You gingerly laid it back in its box, almost too afraid to hold it. Afraid of its fragility, afraid of what it stood for, how it made you feel. The tiny claws of emotion ripping at your throat stole your voice, you could only hope that Ghost couldn’t see your face from where you were standing or he would clearly see what he’d stirred up inside you.

You picked up the small bag and lifted the tissue paper gently, hoping it wasn’t another emotionally draining surprise.

It wasn’t draining, but it sure as hell was a surprise.

“What’s this?” You snorted, turning the bag over and dumping out a few cat toys.

You waited, checking your phone periodically but got no response. You knew he was still watching, so why wasn’t he answering? Sighing you shook your head and opted to take a look at the toys.

A felt kicker toy shaped as a bloody knife. A couple of fluffy spiders, eyeballs with bells inside, and a little vampire bat that was almost too cute to be a cat toy.

“Thanks.” You said quietly.

It was infuriating how well he knew you, he knew how to crawl into your brain and make you want more. How could you not when he did things like this? Thoughtful, well planned gifts, including your pet too. He knew that your cat was your baby and he’d taken the time to befriend her, cared about her enough to buy her things.

It made it all the more irritating that his choice of toys was just alittle funny. But you’d die before you admit that seeing the knife made you crack a grin.

Finally you decided it was time to open the envelope, as soon as you did, you understood why he’d asked you to open the gifts first.

LETTER

Little Doe,

I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. The hurt I saw, the words heard… I felt it in my soul when I watched you crumble.

My purpose is to love you, my job is to keep you safe, my goal is to make you happy. I’m only doing one of those things, it’s selfish of me to love you the way that I do. I know that.

What I’ve done is wrong, I’m aware. I can’t justify or explain it to you. Just know that the long and short of it is love, it’s not a normal love, but it’s mine and I’m giving it all to you.

There’s no way you’d understand the lengths I’d go to, the things I would do for you. You’d never comprehend how deeply I adore you. That’s okay. It’s hard for me to understand myself too.

The hairpin, it’s the goddess of the hunt and her fawn. I thought considering it all, it would be more than suitable for our situation.

You’re a saint, a deity, someone worth the labors of worship.

Goddesses aren’t meant to be touched, held, loved corporally. They’re meant to be imagined, a comforting presence that you feel all around you, bowed to in hopes of receiving grace. I’ve tried to go beyond the altar to reach you and for that I’m truly sorry.

Please, please take my offerings.

I love you, I need you, but I don’t deserve you. No one deserves attention from the heavens, especially not me. But if you are listening, if you’re willing, I’ll try my best to be the perfect follower.

So I’ll ask for a boon from my goddess:

Grant me passage on the road to repentance, or take my hand to walk through the valley.

You sat on your bed in silence for a long while, your cat coming to join you and accept the gifts left for her excitedly. It brought you a moment of peace to watch her waller around and smack the eyeballs across the floor.

So the overwhelming weight of the thin grey sheet of paper in your hand felt even heavier when she scampered off with her brand new bag toy hanging from her mouth like a fresh kill. She’d left you alone and undistracted again. Just you, your thoughts, and the suffocating silence surrounding you, the creeping tingle on your neck that told you he was still watching the cameras.

He was waiting.

So you sighed and crawled off the bed with your bouquet in tow, cutting the stems into the kitchen trash can and filling a glass vase with water to display them on the counter.

The grey paper followed you from room to room, seat to seat, from one hand to the other as you read it over and over. You could recite it by memory, it was burned into your retinas, you could still feel the indents of his pen on the paper long after you’d sat it aside, the smell of the paper dye singed your nostrils and didn’t leave even after your shower.

You thought you could clean yourself, wash your hands of the problem both literally and metaphorically.

No amount of scrubbing could rinse your brain well enough to wash away the thousands of jumbled words swirling around. You’d been trying to formulate one, just one, coherent sentence for a response. But each time you made progress, you changed your mind on the decision, you scrapped the idea, sent it to the shredder and recycled it into a slightly different, just as illegible mess.

He’s giving you an out. Take it.

Who cares if he still watches you? He won’t interfere. He won’t show up for visits, he won’t leave you gifts or notes.

He’d left you with an offering. A little piece of himself in exchange for your so called ‘divine intervention’. He was asking for the hand of god to stir the pot and serve it too. At least, that’s how he saw it.

For you it was just an awkward toss up of a bunch of jumbled pros and cons.

On one hand he was offering you freedom. Opening the bird cage and giving you the option to escape but clipping your wings, ensuring you can’t go too far.

He’d still watch, just not make an appearance… keep himself hidden like before.

This would also solidify Anakin’s safety, which you valued highly. You’d be free to have your beautiful blossoming relationship, without the worry and stress from the Ghost that haunts your apartment.

On the other hand he gave you the choice to join him in some capacity. To walk through the valley with him; would he walk two steps behind? Two in front? Or side-by-side?

It’d give you the opportunity to explore this stranger you’ve discovered living inside your mind and body. That weird itch that only Ghost can scratch, the thought of him alone just doesn’t do it for you anymore.

You’d have the chance to see who is under that mask and that was more intriguing than anything. You felt like the more you spoke to him, the more you watched him in person… maybe you’d be able to narrow it down to a few people. That might be worth the risks that come with allowing him to continue visiting.

So, you swallowed your fear and closed your eyes. A few silent moments later you spoke aloud, assuming Ghost was still listening.

“I’ll walk with you.” You said slowly, tasting the words as they left your lips. “On two conditions.”

‘What are they, deer?’ His response came instantaneously.

“You leave my friends and family alone. You swear on your life they’re safe and that includes Anakin. I mean it, I’m not fucking around about it okay?” You said confidently. “I already feel guilty enough, don’t make it worse for me.”

‘Guilty?’

“Yes guilty! I have a boyfriend, who I really, really like.” You said, feeling exhausted from the complexity of your choice. “This isn’t fair to him!”

“But it’s… it’s not fair to me either!” You said frustratedly as you blew out a long breath of air through pursed lips. “I deserve to know who you are! You’ve been watching me for god knows how long and I haven’t even heard your real voice.”

“And… and it’s not fair for you either.” You admitted quietly.

‘Why?’

“You’ve been… mostly harmless. Kind.” You confessed, considering saying more, much more. “You’ve been helpful. Despite everything you’ve done, you obviously care about me. I can’t ignore that especially now.”

‘Mostly harmless??’

‘Why ‘especially’ now?’

“You’re joking right?” You snorted in disbelief, shaking your head and trying to stifle a laugh of indignation. “You… well I mean it feels wrong to call it what it is. But- you.. you know what you did!” You crossed your arms frustratedly.

‘Ah… the extracurriculars.’

“Sure if that’s what you want to call it.” An expression of, strangely enough, amusement, crossed over your features. “What it is… well you know what it is.” You sighed.

“But for some reason… I don’t want to call it that.” You said quietly.

‘Hm. I’ll remember that.’

“I’m sure you will.” You huffed in spite of yourself, because if you were honest you’d be telling him you liked it. Your body liked it, your brain liked it, asleep or not, he’d affected you in ways you were unsure you could get with anyone else. Including your sweet and precious boyfriend, he’s too tender and loving.

“Second condition: you promise me that you’ll eventually tell me who you are.” You said firmly. “I deserve to know.”

‘I accept.’

“Okay then.” You sighed with relief and a bit of resignation. “You still have to warn me if you’re gonna be coming to visit though!”

‘Yes ma’am.’

“Ew. Add that to the list. Never call me ma’am again.” You snorted and it rolled into a full laugh when you finally looked up and caught your own gaze in your bedroom mirror. You were sitting in your room alone, speaking aloud, having a fully fleshed, seemingly one-sided conversation.

If anyone were to walk in on this scene playing out, they’d think you’ve lost your mind.

Maybe you already have.

Part Ten

The pendant that inspired the hairpin! I forgot to add it in sorryyyyyy

Tag-List:

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THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[yellowharrington]

all i really want (is you) -- carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader, the bear fx

word count: 3k

warnings: smut! 18+, minors pls dni. afab!reader with pullable hair, no use of y/n. light daddy kink and dom/sub undertones. spanking, exhibitionism, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected piv + creampie, reader and carmy both drink alcohol. please let me know if i missed anything :)

a/n: this is depraved. thanks @wtfsteveharrington for reigniting my need to write about carmy lmao. title is from "all i really want is you" by the marias. please leave comments or reblogs if you liked it <3

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: carmy secretly books a lake-front hotel room in chicago for your anniversary.

Carmy would be the first to admit he’s not very good at being romantic.

He forgets, lets things slip through the cracks, time and time again. He makes up for it, and you understand of course, but he’s working on it.

When your anniversary is approaching, he knows he has to make a plan. Busy with the restaurant, the menu, the money - all of it was overwhelming, but your not-so-subtle reminder of the date gave him the idea.

“So…” you had joined him in your shared kitchen, hand brushing through his curls as he slaved over a pan sauce he’d been perfecting.

“Yes?” He wasn’t annoyed - never annoyed, by you - but in the thralls of cooking, nonetheless.

“It’s our anniversary next weekend and I was thinking we’d try out that new restaurant you were talking about. You know… the one that’s suuuuuper hard to get a reservation at?” You smiled coyly as he held out the spoon with the hot liquid on it, wordlessly asking you for a taste-test. 

“Sounds good,” he had remarked, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and returning to the task at hand. “I’ll make a call.”

“Thank you, Carm,” you let your hands roam his clothed back as you feel the sauce between your lips and on your tongue. “That’s delicious.”

He hummed in response, as your hands drifted down to his sides and played at the hem of his t-shirt. “After our anniversary dinner I have a little… present for you.”

Before he could respond, you had slipped away to the bedroom, only flashing him a smirk before closing the door.

The weekend of your anniversary had approached quickly, and Carmy had actually managed to get everything in place. The reservation for dinner was set, his gift burning a hole in his pocket, and thoughts of what your gift to him may entail swirling around in his head. 

You walked out of your shared bedroom, adorning a black dress that hugged your body perfectly. Jewelry to match - done up just right, effortlessly perfect for the occasion. His hand came up to his mouth as he took you in, thanking whatever God above that brought you to him.

“Too much?” You asked, toying with your hair in the mirror and correcting the edge of your lipstick. 

“No,” Carmy answered, coming up behind you in the mirror and admiring your form. “Perfect.”

You felt yourself blush as he took your hand and held it to his lips, kissing your knuckles and pulling you into him. “Ready?” 

~

Dinner came and passed, shared glasses of wine between the two of you as you reminisced about past times together. Carmy had always been shy, but easy to talk to, especially when he had some time to open up. You gave him space to do that - he’d never felt more comfortable with anybody before, somebody he trusted with everything. You listened, told him what he needed to hear when he needed to hear it, and kept him in check all while supporting him from the sidelines and meshing perfectly into his insane life. He was eternally grateful for finding you.

He slides a small box across the table at dinner, and when you open it up, you gasp at what’s inside. A dainty necklace, a glossy “C” hanging on the end of it, where it would sit against your chest. 

You let his deft fingers close the tiny clasp behind your neck, the pendant hanging perfectly, glimmering in the amber candlelight of the restaurant. “You’re gonna make me cry,” you laugh through a watery smile, Carmy’s hand crossing the table to slide into yours. Warm skin against warm skin, you smile at his small display of affection, tilting your glass towards him as he clinked it with yours. 

You notice something might be up when you get back into his car, and he doesn’t take the turn off back to your shared apartment. Instead, he veers off into another lane, holding onto your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze for encouragement. 

You’re down by the water now, making a confused expression at your surroundings. City lights around you, the bustling of other people on dates or nights out, as Carmy pulls into the parking lot of a hotel. 

“What are we doing here?” You look at the people stepping into the hotel lobby, some dressed in clothing that was probably more than your rent. He wordlessly turns off his car and exits through the driver’s side, saying something to the valet before grabbing a bag out of the back seat and rounding back to your side. He opens the door for you and takes your hand, before leading you through the doors and into the grand front lobby.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling above as he took your hand and lead you to the front desk, a confused scowl still across your features. The person at the front desk waved you two over, typing something into the computer. “Good evening. Checking in?”

Carmy nods, handing over his ID and credit card before smiling down at you.

“We’re checking in?”

“Happy Anniversary.”

You have to make sure your mouth isn’t hanging open, as Carmy’s coy smile plays along his lips. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” you whisper to him, feeling heat spread across your cheeks as you take in your surroundings. Your hand slips into his as you press your cheek to his jacketed shoulder. “Let me show you to your room.”

An elevator ride to the top floor has you antsy, as the attendant opens the door for you to your room. She reveals a lake-front room, with views of the harbour, twinkling lights in the distance reflecting onto the massive floor-to-ceiling window. “Is it to your liking, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto?”

A blush runs up your cheeks as the insinuation. Carmy didn’t correct her, just slipped her a tip and assured her the room was perfect. The door clicked politely behind you as you stepped into the room and kicked off your shoes. You turned around to meet Carmy’s eyes as his expression softened, your hands coming up to cup his face.

“I can’t believe you did this.” You’re breathless, still taking in this grand gesture he’d somehow planned completely behind your back.

“You deserve it,” he said simply, tongue darting between his lips as a strong hand came to overlap yours. 

~

The sun had gone down now, navy sky further illuminating the lights below. Rain slacked against the window, simultaneously hard and soft, the glow of the bedside lamps casting shadows on the walls as you got yourself settled. Carmy had abandoned his jacket and tie, leaving him in a crisp white button-up shirt and black slacks. He was laid back on the bed, one hand behind his head, taking some time to relax.

You dipped into the bathroom, smoothing out your hair and checking your makeup in the mirror. You undid the back of your dress and let it slip down your body into a pool on the tile, revealing the gift you’d picked out for Carmy. A black lace set - cupping your breasts perfectly. Lace panties to match, connected to stockings that came high up on your thighs. 

You stepped out, stocking-clad feet soft against the carpet. Carmy immediately notices, eyes blown wide as he sits up to take you in. 

“Thought you might want your gift now,” you sauntered towards him and met him at the end of the bed, his thighs spread for you to fit between them. His hands immediately came up to touch - to confirm you were real, mostly - because his brain was telling him you weren’t.

You looked down at him, cupping his chin with your hand and the other coming down to his shoulder. Pushing down on him gently, his back hit the mattress, wild eyes not moving off of you for even a second. 

You move to straddle his lap, fingers coming down to start unfurling the buttons on his shirt, revealing the soft skin of his chest. Carmy’s rough, calloused fingertips pressed into the plush skin of your hips, eyes wanting to flutter closed but being too entranced by the sight before him to look away. 

His fiery eyes fell to the swell of your breasts, hands coming up to press and squeeze at the skin there, thumbs ghosting over your hard nipples. You felt your back arch, pressing against his palms, wanting more, as much of him as you could get. 

Carmy’s hands slid down your body to find your clothed core, eliciting a small moan from your lips. You rutted into his hand slightly, feeling his skilful fingers start to work at you over the lace.

You weren’t expecting to give him the upper hand, but it was hard not to submit to his touch - wholly his, looking down at him but still feeling as though he had all the power.

He was sitting up now, pushing your panties to the side and feeling the slick between your folds, maintaining eye contact with you through it all. “Carm,” you panted, strained, embarrassed to be coming apart for him already.

As if he knew, he pulled away, wordlessly bringing his fingers up to your lips. You wrapped your mouth around them, letting your tongue dart between the digits as he wet them with your spit.

“Pretty girl,” he muttered, only loud enough for you to hear, earnest eyes looking up at you, fuzzy around the edges with lust. “My pretty slut, aren’t you?”

“Just for you,” you replied, a smirk on the corner of your lip as he swiftly grabbed your hips and flipped you to have your back on the soft hotel comforter.

He stood before you, giving you a chance to unbutton the rest of his shirt and undo his dress pants, his hand now cradling your chin. You pushed his slacks to the floor, rubbing his thick cock over the fabric of his black boxers. His hand came down to pet your hair, taking a fistful of it at the nape and pulling it back to reveal your shiny lips and eager eyes to him. The pendant he purchased for you glinted in the light.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

His firm hand on the back of your neck was enough to make your cunt weep, even without his touch. “Please, I need your cock. Please.”

“Good girl. Sit up, all fours.”

You quickly found yourself on your knees on the soft bed, as he let his cock free. He pumped it a few times, angling your mouth with his grip to allow it to drop open. He pressed forward, slipping in between your wet lips and eliciting a carnal groan from his throat. You let yourself submit to his face-fucking, using your mouth to get himself off, leaking tip pressing against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, throat constricting, which only emboldened him to continue. Spit escaped the corners of your lips as you took him in, swallowing him down, all while looking up and batting your long lashes at him. 

“Taking it so good,” he remarked, with a particularly long thrust into your throat. Leaning forward, his broad hand found a fistful of your ass, squeezing it before planting a firm spank. A yelp escaped your lips, as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the force of him in your throat.  

He pulled you off, cock bobbing between his legs before he smeared the spit that had collected all over your plush lips. “So fucking good for me, baby.”

You smiled triumphantly as he leaned down to kiss you sloppily, mixing your spit with his and taking the time to undo your bra and throw it to the ground. 

You didn’t even mind when he pushed you back onto the bed, pulling the stockings and panties off to meet your bra on the floor, surely ripping them. His hands pushed your thighs apart, wet pussy on full display as he dove right in, not giving you even a second to catch your breath.

“Fu-uck,” your voice was hoarse and jagged, his warm tongue feeling like it was everywhere. You squirmed beneath his strong squeeze, forcing your back off the mattress as he licked a broad stripe up your centre and flashed his eyes up at you.

Your eyes were trained on his movements, knowing better than to close them. Your hand came down to his sandy curls, feeling your breath quicken as he suckled on your clit, moving his jaw in such a way that was sending an electrifying pulse up your spine.

He moved one hand from your thigh to circle your entrance with his middle finger, enjoying the way you shuddered at the feeling. “Please,” you begged, watching as he detached his tongue from your clit to simply play with your hole. “Please, I need you inside of me.”

His lips pursed as he waited for you to understand why he wasn’t proceeding. A knowing glance, a sob from you as he teased you. “Are you talking to me? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Please, daddy. Please fuck me with your fingers.”

“That’s better.” He plunged into you, thick finger curling inside as you let out a choked sob, your cunt pulsing around him as he moved in and out. His lips attached to your clit once again, sucking and grinding his tongue into you, other hand coming up along your stomach to grab your tit and pinch your nipple.

You rasped his name, throat raw from his previous fucking, letting it pour out of your lips over and over. He lapped at you - feeling every quiver from your pussy and shake of your legs as he continued at a bruising pace, not letting up no matter how much you squirmed beneath him. Still pushing you into the mattress, his own cock rutting against the sheets and growing harder every second that his mouth is on you.

A white-hot feeling spread across the back of your thighs, back arched as you tugged on his hair and met his gaze. He rode out your high with you, letting you gush around his fingers and feeling waves of pleasure rise and fall as your breath steadied. Your chest heaving, sticky with sweat, mascara smeared at the edges as you laid back, feeling Carmy’s fingers pull out and his mouth detach from you.

He found himself between your thighs once more, rock-hard cock sliding between your slick folds to tease your overly sensitive clit. He kissed you, a hunger within him, arms coming up under you to hold you as close as possible. Bare skin against bare skin, his mouth sucking in your bottom lip and biting down slightly, eliciting a smile from you and a depraved moan from your lips.

You reached down between your two bodies and slipped his cock into your ready pussy, swallowing him inside of you and hearing his gasp against your lips at the friction. A shameless grunt as his hips drove into you relentlessly, his curls falling into your face as your head tipped back, letting his mouth attach to the side of your throat and suck a bruise into the soft skin beneath your ear. Your hands found the strong muscles of his back, digging them into his skin and finding your legs wrapping around his middle.

An assaulting pace, languidly in and out of you as you met his eyes, pure lust and fire behind them. You could see the idea flash across his eyes.

He pulled out of you gingerly, as you winced at the loss of contact. He pulled you up with him, towards the windows of the hotel room.

He lightly pushed you against the cold glass, earning a sinful moan from your lips as he took your hands hostage behind your back. The rain still pelted down outside, a symphony against your hard and fast breath.

“Why don’t you show all those people how you like to get fucked, huh? Show them what a slut you are?”

A devilish smile on your lips was met with your cheek against the glass, a broad palm on the opposite side of your face, as his cock slid back into your pussy with ease. Your ass was pushed out for him to land a firm slap on it once again, picking up his pace. His hand came around to push your legs apart, playing with your clit and drawing you close once again, as he released your hands to leave prints on the glass.

“Fill me up, please daddy,” you moaned, letting your head fall slack. “I want you to cum so fucking deep inside of me, fuck,” — another spank, paired with jagged thrusts as Carmy got closer to finishing — “fuck me like you own me, baby.”

“I do own you,” he growled, forehead pressed against your shoulder blades as he felt your pussy clench around him. “Cum baby, cum with all those people fucking watching you.” 

“You own me Carmen, I’m yours.” you chanted, turning around to meet his eyes. You watched his eyes glaze over and jaw hang open as his thrusts slowed, making a mess of your pussy as he came deep inside of you.

Your second orgasm followed soon after, cock twitching inside of you as you clenched around him. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder as you stepped away from the glass, legs unstable as a furious warmth came up over your cheeks.

After getting cleaned up together in the bathroom, he flicked off the light as you turned towards the window. His body pressed up against yours, arm secured around your waist as he peppered kisses along your neck and shoulders, musing about how beautiful you are.

“Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered, another kiss to the outer shell of your ear that made a shiver go up your spine. “I love you more than anything.”

You curled into him and listened to the relaxing rain, his steadying breath and strong arm lulling you safely to sleep.

[cutmyheadoffplease]

«Justice of those pure of heart»

ADA x reader hcs because why not?

WARNINGS! : Dazai being Dazai, mentions of alcohol and war in Yosano's part

FEAT! : Atsushi; Dazai; Kunikida; Yosano x gn!reader

➜ Atsushi Nakajima ᗢ

ᗢ He asks Yosano for advice; it doesn’t matter. Presents? Yosano has to say they fit the occasion. A nice day in a park? Yosano makes Atsushi check the weather forecast. She saved dates.

ᗢ Atsushi would buy plushies as gifts. He started doing it after he saw how much joy they brought to Kyoka and they became his go-to gifts for everyone.

ᗢ Atsushi’s ability lets him turn into a tiger, tigers are felines, felines sleep for about 16 hours a day. Therefore, Atsushi too sleeps for 16 hours (and has a tiny kitty plushie he got from Kyoka <3)

ᗢ Atsushi once scratched you. It was an accident. It didn’t even hurt. But this chazuke loving boy cried for half an hour because he ‘hurt’ you.

ᗢ You once took him to the Zoo. He started rambling about chameleons. He just loves them. His love for them can be explained in two ways: 1. He wants to blend into the background like them, so that he can forget what he’s been through, so he can be like everyone. 2. They're just cool.

➜ Osamu Dazai 𓍯

𓍯 Jokes that he would love to commit suicide with you, but I feel like he’d stop you say you’re uncomfortable… maybe brings you some flowers, to Yosano’s recommendation, he bought with the money he “borrowed” from Kunikida as an apology.

𓍯 Has a small crab plushie Atsushi and Kyoka gave him and used it to pinch your cheeks or places it on your head when he’s bored.

𓍯 Do NOT fall asleep near him, unless you want to be turn into a bandage mummy, because personal space is not a concep in Dazai’s vocabulary… at all….

𓍯 You cannot look at this man and tell me he wouldn’t blow in your ear to annoy you, Kunkida and/or Chuuya.

𓍯 Dazai may have on this goofy and careless personality, but the one time he was actually sad and brought to tears was when he told you about Oda. poor Oda

➜Doppo Kunikida ✎

✎ Kunikida had a hamster as a kid. He started liking math because he would count the amount of seeds it ate every day.

✎ Kunikida on the note of his math teacher past, he gave Kenji math homework once, but had to explain it with cows.

✎ Kunikida gets mad if you aren’t organized, he’ll tidy up of course, but not without commenting and giving you sour looks.

✎ Once asked Yosano for advice on what to wear to a date and ended up with a wardrobe full of clothes. He’ll never do it again.

✎ Kunikida is almost blind without his glasses, he once tried to hug you without them and ended up hugging a door.

➜ Akiko Yosano 𓌏

𓌏 Watches M*A*S*H* every chance she gets as a way to cope with her childhood. Please watch it with her. It’s an amazing show. The show screams Yosano. (I feel like her favorite would be Colonel Potter. He’s 100% the guy she would have wanted to work under. she cried during the last episode, not wanting the show she resonated so much with to end.)

𓌏 Yosano sleeps with her socks on and has an unholy big collection of them, most of them have Japanese sweets on them or random stuff she bought with Kyoka or Naomi.

𓌏 Drunkenly confessed what happened during the war once. She spat out everything. The pain drowned in liquor, everything now just a foggy memory of abuse and injustice. She took the hair pin off that day.

𓌏 Yosano took you shopping, Kyoka tags along, of course you had to pay for everything. And if you didn’t I’ll pay for Yosano and Kyoka happily . Before you know it it’s already late, the bag is full of random stuff, like scented candles and even more socks.

𓌏 Yosano reads romance. A lot of it. She became the ADA’s romance counselor. So you better be good at preparing dates or she’ll pout a little.

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆Yay~ Thank you for getting till the very end~ A part two will come with the other ADA members.ᐟ𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆

[devildom-moss]

Signs of Affection (kiss)

Part 2 of this request (Lucifer, Leviathan, Diavolo, Barbatos, and Simeon)

(Mammon x gn!MC) (Satan x gn!MC) (Asmodeus x gn!MC) (Belphegor x gn!MC) (Solomon x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +4,100 (we aren't going to talk about the size difference between these shorts okay?)

Mammon

“Geez, that sucked. Two hours of silent studyin’ for an F? I got a different F for that guy: a big ‘fuck you,’” Mammon grumbled to himself with his hands folded behind his head as he walked out of his mandatory extra lessons – or rather, they could have been classified as lessons if he had actually learned anything. Instead, Mammon spent the first 5 minutes trying to read one paragraph four times and the next 3 minutes trying to read the following paragraph before he became acutely aware that the supervising professor for today was watching him. He was clearly disappointed and judgmental of Mammon’s ongoing failure to turn the page. For the rest of his lesson, Mammon alternated between daydreaming about you – twisting your image in his head into a variety of different scenarios from innocent dates to the most depraved acts – and counting how many times he could spot the first letter of your name on the page. At least with the latter, it looked like he was reading.

“Mammon! How was delinquent rehab?” you teased him from your spot on the bench outside of the class.

Mammon shrieked and jumped. “W-what the fuck are ya doin’ here?!”

“MAMMON!” The supervisor poked his head out of the door. “Stop yelling in the hall and go home before I decide to keep you for another hour.”

“Sorry, that was my fault, Professor Amy. I startled him.” You stood up and bowed slightly, hoping the astronomy – and somehow, simultaneously, art – professor would go easy on Mammon if you took the heat.

“Oh, it’s you.” You were right to hope; Amy’s tone instantly softened. “If you’re on your way home, please take this loudmouth with you.”

“Who ya callin’ a loudmouth, man?” Mammon growled. You cupped your hand over his mouth; better late than never.

“Yes, I’ll be on my way now. I was just waiting for Mammon to finish his lessons.”

“Does being an idiot pay off after all?” Amy mused aloud – mostly to annoy the muzzled Mammon. “Very well. Be safe on your way home.”

“Alright, thank you, sir.” You smiled at him and began to drag Mammon down the hall. You only uncovered his mouth once the professor had gone back inside, and you were safely out of earshot.

“’Thank you, sir,’” Mammon mocked you. “Fuck was all that? You ain’t fuckin’ that teacher now are ya?”

“No, you pervert. It’s called being polite. You’d probably get in less trouble if you tried it with a few of your professors.”

“What’cha doin’ bein’ all polite to him for, anyway? Guy’s not even a good teacher, and he clearly has a human kink. Just stay away from him.”

“I almost never talk to him outside of our classes.” You rolled your eyes at Mammon. His jealousy had been excessive recently. As a slight punishment, you decided to tease him. “And why do you know so much about human kinks that you can recognize it in someone else?”

“Shuddup. It ain’t like that!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t have a human kink or nothing,” Mammon yelled. His cheeks burned, and he blurted out, “it’s only you.”

“Sorry, what was that?” you teased, biting back your smile.

“I didn’t say shit. Forget it.” Mammon crossed his arms as he picked up his speed just enough to walk ahead of you, hoping to avoid showing you the blush that stained his face.

“Okay, Mammon.” You dropped it, allowing him a bit of his dignity.

You both walked in silence for a minute until, finally, Mammon slowed down and started to walk beside you again. His blush had calmed. He glanced to the side briefly, trying not to draw your attention, but you noticed and smiled at him. Why do ya always look so cute ‘n happy when you’re walkin’ home with me, huh? What gives? Mammon wondered. If something as simple as walking home could make you smile like that, you were going to start charming demons left and right, and Mammon had no intention of sharing any more of you than he had to. That’s why he was so annoyed by you being nice to that professor. Just thinking about the way that demon’s face softened around you was pissing him off.

Suddenly, Mammon remembered what you had said, and his cheeks reignited in a faint blush. Nervous and masking his shyness with aggression, Mammon asked, “Hey, were ya serious about that back there – about just waitin’ for me to get out?”

“Yeah, of course I was.”

“For real? Ya waited two whole hours?”

“For my favorite hole? Yeah.” You smirked.

“Shuddup!” Mammon’s face burned. “Now who’s bein’ a perv?!”

“At least we’re even.” You smiled sweetly, as if you hadn’t just said something so vulgar – on a public street, no less.

Mammon stopped in his tracks, confidence surging in him. You stopped and looked back, confused. He grinned. “Ya must really love the Great Mammon, huh?”

“Sure do,” you readily agreed.

“I knew it!” Mammon pronounced – as if the occasional doubt had never wandered into his head. While he still had the courage to act, Mammon grabbed the sides of your face and quickly placed a kiss on your cheek. He whispered in your ear, “Thanks for bein’ so sweet to me, MC.”

Before you could register what had just happened, Mammon took off running towards the House of Lamentation. He pulled out his phone, skillfully dodging random obstacles and other demons as he appeared to start typing something. Seconds later, your D.D.D. buzzed.

Mammon: First one home gets a real kiss from the loser. Deal?

You laughed and stared down the street, watching as Mammon increased the distance between you. There was no way you were going to catch up to him.

MC: Deal. 💛

Satan

Satan was utterly thrilled when he found out the library had finally received the book that he requested two months ago. He insisted upon checking it out immediately after class, and since you had studying to do anyway, you went along with him.

With his new book acquired, Satan joined you at the small table you had settled into and began to read. However, his attention’s lifespan was uncharacteristically short despite his initial excitement. Satan’s eyes wandered away from the page, drifting up to you. Each time he tried to refocus on the book, his gaze punished him for a failure to indulge himself by lingering on you.

Few things enticed Satan more than you – especially when you got that serious look on your face. He had tried to keep reading too many times to keep track of, and now he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from you again. So, he just sat there, watching you read over your notes, recopying the most relevant points on a fresh sheet of paper. You were being so diligent.

One of the awful things about demons is that the alarm bells that go off in your head when you think someone is watching you are stronger and scarier when that someone is a powerful demon – and the fear your innate human senses created under the predatory gaze of a demon like Satan, whose sin was a destructive and devastating wrath, was intense. It sent a shiver up your spine, and when you looked up to find Satan’s eyes locked on your face, you jumped in your seat slightly. He didn’t need to look so hungry.

“Please stop staring, Satan.” You looked away, trying to turn your attention back to your studies.

“You don't want me to stare at you?” Satan got out of his seat across the table and took the spot right next to you. He propped his chin up in his hand and stared at you up close, eyeing you up and down with a smug grin on his face. “I want to. What's the problem?"

“It’s a bit distracting to have your eyes on me.” That was at least mostly true. There was no need to mention he was also turning you on in public. “I’d rather you not just stare at me.”

“Is that all?” Satan laughed. “You don’t want me to just stare? Very well.”

Satan leaned in, slowly shutting his eyes, and kissed your cheek. His warm lips lingered on your skin and his hot breath tickled. You could feel another chill run up your spine when his eyes fluttered back open. Even when he pulled back, his mouth hovered just over your cheek.

Another set of eyes landed on you. From a few aisles away, another library regular was stunned in their spot, mortified to have witnessed the Avatar of Wrath kissing a human in the library – not that they hadn’t seen worse. They gave you an awkward wave before turning and walking in the opposite direction, abandoning the book they had been searching for.

“Satan,” you chided him.

“What?” Satan hummed, inching closer to your ear, and whispered, “Do you still want more?”

“Someone saw.” You felt a bit guilty about it, too. Their embarrassment matched yours; in fact, it may have been even worse. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I wanted to. And who cares if someone saw? What are they going to do about a kiss on the cheek? It’s fine.” Satan placed another kiss on your cheek before returning to whisper seductively in your ear, “Besides, we’ve done worse. Don’t act so shy and innocent now. Do you need a reminder of all the things we’ve done – or perhaps you’d prefer a physical demonstration?”

What did you do to deserve this? You were just trying to study.

Asmodeus

“You weren’t waiting too long for moi, were you?” Asmo rushed to the table that you had grabbed when you arrived. He had a grin on his lips, but that charming smile was a cover for the guilt and anxiety he felt about being fifteen minutes late for your date. He couldn’t figure out which pair of socks to wear to complement his boots and skirt – and in the end, he just ended up pulling on a pair of lace stockings. Usually, Asmo didn’t care if he was a little late, but the idea of leaving you all alone in a demon-infested night café didn’t sit well with him.

“I would have happily waited much longer – especially when you show up, looking this cute.” You smiled at him sweetly, and every inch of Asmo’s body burned.

“Ooh, you little charmer.” Asmo giggled. “Did you order yet?”

“Of course not; I wanted to wait for you.”

“Such an obedient human,” Asmo teased, leaning over the table and resting his chin on his hand. He stared at you affectionately.

“I’ve never been called that in my life.” You laughed, and that only made Asmo happier to have said it.

“Want me to go up and order? Just tell me what you want – other than me, of course.” Asmo got to his feet and waited patiently for you to relay your order. With a smile and a wink, Asmo booped your nose. “Excellent. Now make sure to enjoy the view.”

Before you could question him, Asmo spun around and walked toward the register. Each step was a deliberate effort to draw your attention to his legs and ass. Oh. That view. Asmo was a hopeless flirt, but he was awfully sweet, too. Besides, you couldn’t deny that it was a good view.

Unfortunately, as Asmo returned from placing the order, he was faced with the irritating realization that he was not the only view in the café. He caught a handful of demons leering at you – and one of them appeared to be approaching. Not on Asmo’s expensive, crystal watch. He hurried back to the table just in time to cut off the tall demon, placing his delicate hand over your shoulder possessively. With a haunting smile, Asmo stared them down. He announced – more to the other demon than to you, “I’m back, hun. Did you miss me?”

A shiver ran up the demon’s spine, and their eyes went wide. They weren’t about to square up with Asmodeus over a human – not after all the rumors they had heard about bloodlust being stronger in lust demons than those ruled by wrath. The demon awkwardly tried to escape by blurting out, “enjoy your date.”

The demon scurried away quickly, and you looked up at Asmo just in time for his menacing aura to dissipate. “That was weird, right?”

“Some people just can’t act right around cuties.” Asmo dismissed your worry with a lighthearted laugh.

“So, you get that a lot?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t mean me.” Asmo leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You’re so cute it’s drawing attention.”

“I’m not as cute as you, though.” You smiled. “Now, sit down with me.”

“Actually, I was hoping we could snap a few pictures first. Do you mind?”

“Sure, I guess.” You shrugged and started to stand, but Asmo used his hand that was still resting on your shoulder to push you back down into your seat.

“No need to get up,” Asmo cooed. He took a step back and leaned over your chair so he could get right next to your face and drape his arms over you. “This position is perfect.”

Asmo snapped a few pictures. With each one, he seemed to get closer until his cheek was pressed to yours affectionately. He asked you to make a half heart with your hand and completed it with his own. Then, catching you off guard, Asmo kissed your cheek tenderly, waiting a few seconds before finally snapping a picture. He immediately pulled his phone back and stood up to discreetly examine the photo. The shit-eating grin on his face spoke for itself. He was all too pleased with it.

“What was that?” You scoffed. You probably should have anticipated that level of physical affection from Asmo, but sometimes, he still surprised you.

“Hmm? Isn’t it obvious?” Asmo looked down at you, innocently tilting his head. “I had to mark my territory.”

“What?” Your eyes widened. Sure, Asmo was always teasing you and flirting, but you hadn’t quite expected that answer. Asmo giggled and bent over, getting indecently close to your neck.

“I had to mark you,” he repeated in a low, seductive tone. “Would you rather I leave a hickey on your neck right now instead? I’d be happy to.”

“Just be a good boy and sit down.” You sighed. It wasn’t that embarrassing, but all you could do was imagine Lucifer’s voice scolding you for indulging Asmo too much in public.

“Ooh, I do want to be your good boy. Okay.” Asmo grinned, biting back the urge to call you one of a myriad of unacceptable titles, and returned to his seat across from you. He pulled his phone out and started messing with it. “See, I’m behaving.”

You laughed. Something told you that he was not, in fact, behaving. It only took a few minutes of mindless chatting while he continued tapping away at his phone – a habit you were so accustomed to that it usually didn’t strike you as rude – for your suspicion to be confirmed.

Your D.D.D. buzzed with an alert from Asmo’s Devilgram. He posted the picture of him kissing your cheek with a pink heart emoji covering your face – for the sake of your privacy. That was decent of him. You smiled softly, certain that Asmo was watching you. It already had over 6k likes by the time you scrolled down to read the caption: Ugh. My date is so cute that they’re attracting all sorts of attention. No one else deserves to see that cute face tonight but moi~ What do you think, everyone, should I mark them for myself?  

Asmo was spared a playful lecture when his name was called at the counter. You got up to help him carry the drinks and food back to your table. The barista seemed to be staring at you, but when Asmo put his finger up to his lips, they got flustered and looked away, returning to their work. Covering your face in the picture served another purpose: Asmo was hiding the gloss mark he left on your cheek. You didn’t need to know about it yet.

Belphegor

Belphie was lucky that you had chosen to sit in the back of the lecture hall where he could comfortably lean up against your shoulder and fall asleep without immediate repercussions. At least he was polite enough to nap on the shoulder for your non-dominant hand so you could continue to take notes as you listened to the lecture. Occasionally, you glanced down at his sleeping face; he looked so sweet, peaceful, and adorable.

The clock ticked down the few remaining minutes of the lecture, which was your cue to begin the wake-up process. Although Belphegor seldom cared what his brothers or the professor thought about him using you as a pillow during class, you found that it was easier to just wake him up before the complaints came rolling in. You set your pen down, pet Belphie gently, and whispered his name so that only he would hear you. A soft moan left him, and he nuzzled into your arm before leisurely opening his eyes with a content smile.

“Good morning, MC.” Belphie whispered into your ear.

Reluctantly, Belphegor forced himself upright and away from the warmth of your body just in time for the lecture to be dismissed. The professor and other students gathered their things and collectively made their way towards the doors. You, however, waited on Belphegor to shake off his nap and get to his feet.

“C’mon, MC. Catch up,” Mammon shouted from the front of the class.

“Give us a second,” you replied at a lower volume.

“Man, you two are so slow. I ain’t waitin’ around forever.” Mammon groaned and made his way slowly towards the door.

“He would know slow,” Belphie muttered just loud enough for you to hear as he stood up.

“Belphie,” you chided him, but your tone went ignored.

“Hey, can I borrow your notes later? Maybe we could review together.” There was a soft, sweet neediness in Belphie’s voice.

“Didn’t you catch the lecture in your sleep like you usually do?” Sometimes Belphie’s ability to remember things that happened around him while he was asleep creeped you out. He was like an unassuming monitoring device if he wanted to be.

“Indulge me.” Belphie knocked his shoulder against yours playfully.

“I always do, don’t I?” You sighed. That was the unfortunate effect he had on you: you always found yourself spoiling him, even when he didn’t deserve it – or rather, especially when he didn’t.

You were just about to walk into the hall when Belphie grabbed your hand and pulled you back into the classroom before the others spotted you. He played with your hand, caressing you with his thumbs. His cheeks were stained light pink as his eyes flitted from your hand to your face.

“What’s the matter, Bel?”

Belphie closed the distance between you, springing forward to kiss your cheek. The sudden movement surprised you, but it wasn’t especially shocking; Belphegor had always been physically affectionate. He inched closer, causing his hot breath to ghost over your skin. His lips curved into a precious grin as he whispered in your ear: “Thank you for always spoiling me.”

The honey-sweet tone of Belphie’s voice was undercut by a sharp yell from the corner of the room. “I saw that.”

It was Solomon. He stopped shoving his books into his bag to glare at the back of Belphegor’s head. Unfortunately for Solomon, Belphie wasn’t bothered; he simply rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Cool shit, bro.” Belphie replied in a condescending tone and lifted his arm up in the air to flip Solomon off. You watched Solomon’s jaw drop slightly as he physically recoiled. Sometimes Solomon forgot how rude Belphegor could be. It was hard not to laugh, but you really shouldn’t encourage his bad behavior by laughing. “Come on, MC. Let’s go.”

Belphie grabbed your arm and dragged you into the hall. He was attached, and he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. In fact, he planned to stay glued to your side until his desire for your attention was fully satisfied.

Solomon

The warmth of Solomon’s hands as he caressed your cheek was nothing compared to the warmth of his praise and your own pride swelling in your chest. Solomon hummed, “You did such a good job.”

You had successfully used a heating spell on the first try, evidenced by the warmth in Solomon’s previously cold hands. It had been a while since you got a spell that Solomon taught you perfect right away – let alone one that required you to manipulate another person’s body (and you could worry about the ethical dilemma involved with that later). Neither of you had expected you to raise his body temperature at such an ideal rate and stop at the perfect temperature. Of course, Solomon trusted you not to hurt him, but he was impressed by your control. He wanted to test you further.

“Excellent. Let’s try something similar.” Solomon began to search his shelves for the right ingredients. He continued to talk as he scanned, “I want to see if you can cool down an external object with the same level of control. If you can do it, I’ll reward you.”

“Bring it on,” you accepted. Solomon offered you plenty of praise when you did well, but he so rarely gave you an actual reward for your work. It was exciting to imagine what you could earn. Maybe he would teach you a cool, secret spell or give you a magical item. But more motivating than a reward was the idea of making Solomon proud.

“That’s my apprentice – so eager,” he mused, grabbing a bottle of glowing red liquid.

“Oh, but no home cooking as a reward,” you added, sparing your future self from potential suffering.

Solomon whipped his head around with a pout before returning to his search. He found a beaker and brought everything to his desk. By then, the pout had reshaped itself into a smirk. “I didn’t have cooking in mind when I offered you a reward, so it looks like we have a deal.”

Solomon poured plain water and the glowing red liquid into the beaker. They failed to mix. You asked, “What do I have to do?”

It was simple – or at least that was what Solomon said. All you had to do was cool the contents of the container between 32 to 36 degrees below the freezing point of water. If the red substance dipped under 36 degrees below the freezing point of water, it would become unstable. If you failed, the ice and glass would break open. Solomon didn’t tell you anything about the red substance or what “unstable” meant for it. All you knew was that you had a four-degree margin of error.

“And you’re sure it’s safe?”

“I wouldn’t put my favorite apprentice in danger for a game, would I?”

With that reassurance, you focused your magic into the beaker. As the water slowly solidified, the red liquid became concentrated at the center until it was encased in ice. You just had to keep lowering it until something felt right. You stopped and nodded. Solomon inspected the beaker.

“A beautiful job,” Solomon praised you.

“Really? What did I do though?”

“I’ll tell you once the ice melts,” Solomon waved off your curiosity. “For now, it’s time for your reward. Close your eyes.”

You did as he instructed and listened to him moving about the room. His presence got closer until you could feel his warmth. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, causing your eyes to shoot open and your face to burn. Solomon chuckled at your response.

“I could feel your cheeks getting warm. Did I embarrass you?”

“No. I was just surprised.”

“Really?” Solomon leaned in and kissed your cheek again. “I don’t know. Your face burns under my lips.”

“You’re a terrible teacher,” you retorted. That wasn’t what you were expecting, of course he flustered you.

“Oh? That can’t possibly be true. My adorable apprentice seems to be doing quite well,” Solomon laughed, all too pleased with his successful attempt to tease you. “You learn so quickly. Should we try something even harder? Think you can handle it?”

There was a seductive tint to his words, and you narrowed your eyes at Solomon. “Same shady reward system? Pass.”

“Nope,” Solomon leaned close, trying to entice you. How were you just now noticing how sweet he smelled? Was he wearing perfume or cologne today? You didn’t have time to linger on the thought. Solomon dropped his voice, and through a wicked smirk, he added, “even shadier. If you succeed, I’ll do whatever you ask for a full day.”

“And if I fail?” you asked cautiously.

“I get to punish you.”

(gift version - Beelzebub, Thirteen, Raphael, Mephistopheles)

A/N: These ones got really flirty. . . oh well. Uhm, leave me nice comments or something. I don't know. I feel like I'm forgetting to say something. . .

[hanjist]

sister’s best friend.

content - brother!hyunjin. sister!yeji. fem best friend!reader. pure filthy smut.

warnings - threesome. wxw action. dom!hyunjin. dom!yeji. sub!reader. yeji makes fun of reader and embarrasses her in the first half. pervert!hyunjin. degrading. voyeurism. cumplay kinda. humiliation. spit play. ‘pretty girl’ ‘baby’ ‘cum dumpster’ used. multiple orgasms.

word count - 1983.

a/n - sorry i couldn’t help myself. idfw actual familial incest, so hyun n yeji are step siblings but hyunjin n yeji don’t interact with each other, just you coz you’re the main star obvi. ok so seems like when i write about yeji all of a sudden i get good at writing. not proof read.

“you two should make out.”

hyunjin blurts as he peeks behind the wall of yeji’s bedroom. he quickly hides away as yeji throws one of her stuffed animals at him.

“go away, you perv!”

you giggle away your embarrassment, trying to distract yeji from the fact you’re turning red.

“sorry y/n, my stupid and annoying step-brother. always getting in my business!”

as hyunjin gives another peek into yeji’s room, she spots him and flips him off. he rolls his eyes before walking away into his own room, slamming the door.

“just forget he said that. he’s just being a creep, per usual.”

you take several glances at hyunjin’s door across the hall from your spot on the bed as yeji speaks. she notices your eyes trailing from her to his door. how you’re starting to bite on your lip, to the point it might even bleed.

“y/n! don’t fucking tell me you’re into the idea!”

“w-what?! no! never! wha- how could you ever say that about me?!”

you cross your arms at her, cheeks turning an obvious shade of red. yeji laughs at you, her body slamming on to the pillows behind her.

“you are sick! are you into that shit? being a fucking pervert?”

yeji can’t stop laughing at you. it’s gone to a point where she’s become pale out of the amount of times she’s gasping for air from her laughter.

you turn your head from her, then your body as you sulk.

“stop making fun of me!”

“im sorry, im sorry! i’ll stop laughing…”

she wipes her tears as she takes a final sigh. her body relaxes between the pillows.

“oh man, you’re so disgusting.”

“enough!”

“okay, i’m sorry!”

there’s a silence between you two before you decide to speak up again.

“…it’s not a bad idea though.”

yeji covers her mouth in an attempt to stop herself from even the slightest giggle. then she bites her tongue before she speaks.

“it isn’t.”

she takes another breath.

“we should make hyunjin watch too. get his perverted ass to enjoy the show.”

“woah- what?!”

yeji gives a devious smirk at you as she gets up to lean against her hallway door.

“hyunjin! can you check on something for us?”

he opens his door immediately to the request.

“sure, what’s up?”

had he not heard what you guys were talking about before? there’s no way he didn’t hear, yeji was practically screaming everything out loud. was he playing dumb?

he leans against the door frame. yeji sits herself back onto her bed, right next to you. the space being limited between you.

“how’s my form?”

she grabs at your chin to turn your head away from hyunjin and face her. she pulls you closer to her face. the proximity of your lips, almost touching. your eyes quickly glance at hyunjin from the side, you see him licking his own lips. then it hits you.

you feel yeji’s lips on yours. her gloss smothering all over the bottom of your lip. her tongue darting into your mouth. the pressure of her fingers against your chin. you close your eyes at the feeling. the way yeji’s doing all of the work for you makes you feel relaxed, practically submitting to her.

“fuck… yeah, just like that.”

you can hear hyunjin from the side, groaning as he watches the both of you. you slide your hands on yeji’s waist, pulling her body closer to yours. she ends up crawling on your lap, eliminating the distance between you both.

yeji darts her tongue further into your mouth, making you moan. hyunjin’s own moan follows after he watches that certain action. yeji’s mouth detaches from yours, a line of saliva connecting the both of you. she gives hyunjin a look from the side.

“so? how was it?”

“fucking shit, ten outta ten. let me in on this.”

he approaches you, shoving yeji to the side. hyunjin wastes no time and quickly connects his lips onto yours. his plump lips fitting perfectly on yours, the wetness of the mix of all three of your salivas creating squelching noises as his mouth devours you. he softly bites on your bottom lip, leaving you into a whining mess. his fingers trail from your cheeks, to your jaw, down your neck, and finally toys at the straps of your flimsy tank top. he loops the straps on his fingers and pulls your top up, taking it off of you in one swift motion. your lips disconnect for a brief moment, then he’s back onto you like a magnet.

everything is happening so fast, it’s becoming blurry to you.

it was like the next time you opened your eyes, you were on all fours.

because you were.

your back arches as you’re hit with reality, more like pleased into reality. yeji grazes a bright pink dildo against your folds, while hyunjin lays back against the headboard of yeji’s bed, using his thumb to caress your lip as he takes his cock out of his pants with his freehand. his tip brushes your bottom lip before he uses his hand to pull your chin down, leaving your mouth wide open to take in at least the rest of his tip.

“can you take more baby?”

you nod as you wrap your mouth around him. he moves the few strands of hair in front of your face behind your ear, then slowly pushing down on your head against his shaft. you let out a gasp as yeji syncs up the dildo with hyunjin’s movements, pushing it in your cunt as your mouth goes down on his dick.

“hyunjin, the toy slides so easily in her. fuck…”

yeji licks her lips at the site of your cunt engulfing the toy whole. a particularly loud moan comes out of your mouth and vibrates against hyunjin’s dick. it sends him into a shock, moaning at the feeling.

it doesnt take long before hyunjin cums. as he releases inside your mouth, he pulls it out with a certain pop sound as your lips detach from his tip. as you swallow his load, his last bits of his cum finish by spurting onto your cheeks and chin. just like paint on a canvas. hyunjin grabs your cheeks harshly, pulling your head to turn and look back at yeji, who admires the splotches of hyunjin’s seed on your face. the distance between you shrinks as she’s now face to face with you. she sticks her tongue out, then presses it against your cheek, licking a long stripe to collect hyunjin’s seed in her mouth. then she attaches her lips back onto yours, a mixture of saliva and semen entering your mouth.

“don’t you think we taste so good, y/n?”

you eagerly nod, gulping down the mix of the siblings bodily secretions.

“wow, you’re disgusting.”

yeji tsks at you. the tone in her voice making you feel flustered, but also so turned on.

“who do you want more? me or hyunjin?”

you’re brain goes blank. you try to speak but no words come out of your mouth.

“the poor baby can’t speak, hm? that’s enough of an answer for us. looks like you’ll get us both, is that what you want?”

“y-yes! b-both! please!”

you whine at the both of them, your head turning to look at one then the other.

“shit… okay baby. lay on your back for us.”

hyunjin’s voice mellow but demanding. you react immediately, getting on your back against yeji’s bed. you watch as hyunjin pulls the restraining material of his pants all the way down to his ankles, while yeji unbuttons her skirt and pulls her panties down only to toss it elsewhere in her room.

the two quickly get into their positions on your body, yeji hovering above your face and hyunjin lined up at your core. the heat of their bodies at your most sacred parts only makes you want them more. hyunjin slowly sinks into your cunt, the tip only making it in before you whine in pleasure. then being cut by yeji slamming down onto your face, mouth directly at her own sopping core and clit to your nose. hyunjin keeps pushing himself in further, while the moans he gets out of you travel to yeji, making her whine at the feeling of your mouths vibrations. her fingers latch onto her headboard, grip tightening for maintaining her balance as she starts to ride your face. on the other hand, hyunjin bottoms out in your cunt, balls deep. the clench your cunt makes around his cock is already enough of a sign that he should start moving. the rhythm of hyunjin’s thrusts in your pussy make you rock up and down, your mouth messily sucking on yeji’s cunt. every time hyunjin thrusts, your nose keeps bumping harder onto yeji’s clit, the pressure building up.

the sensations building up in your stomach felt like it was too much to handle. your toes start to curl. hyunjin notices, making him plow harder into your core. it’s like you’re suffering when the rough speed intensifies. you moan endlessly into yeji’s cunt, making her squirt all over your face. you end up creaming around hyunjin’s dick after yeji’s release.

“creaming all over my cock, hm? take my seed, like a cum dumpster.”

hyunjin gives one last thrust before you feel his warm seed filling you up. as he pulls out, he watches the mixture of your cum drip down your folds.

“shit… look at her mess.”

hyunjin whimpers at the sight of his doings. yeji trembles as she gets off your face. she crawls over to hyunjin’s spot.

“move!”

she pushes him away from his spot on her bed, taking his place. she slowly straddles you, her legs in between yours. you already know what she’s about it to do.

yeji starts rubbing her wet pussy all over your creamed cunt. you follow her rhythm, rolling your hips against her. the mixtures of all three of your essences mix between your bodies. as your clit rubs against hers, you feel another coil in your stomach. it doesn’t take you long to release again, more cum dripping out of your cunt. it doesn’t stop yeji though, rubbing her folds against yours, spreading your cum all over your cunt.

“you love being messy, hm pretty girl?”

you nod your head aggressively, in a way that could mess up your brain more than it already is.

hyunjin watches, a death grip around his own cock, thrusting into his hand as he watches you grind against his dirty step-sister.

“get off, it’s my turn again.”

hyunjin gives yeji her payback, pushing her away from your cunt just as he sees she’s about to release all over you.

“hey! i was so close!”

hyunjin rolls his eyes at yeji’s remark. he grabs you by your ankles, dragging your body to turn towards the end of the bed, legs dangling off the edge. he falls onto his knees, right in front of your cunt. he starts kissing your inner thighs softly. it felt so calming. almost too peaceful.

he’s brisk to reach back onto your messy pussy, leaving light kisses on it. everywhere from your folds, to your hole, and your clit. reserving the most aggressive kisses to your clit, sucking the soul out of it.

he prods his tongue inside your hole, collecting the essence and cream dripping onto the sheets.

yeji on your side has began to suck on your tits. her tongue swirling all over your areola, sucking on your nipples, and leaving dark hickeys all over your chest.

it doesn’t take long for the both of their lips on your body to make you release for the nth time.

you feel weak.

messy.

dirty.

still aroused.

yeji leaves a peck on your lips before she gets up from her bed.

“let’s do this again next time you come over.”

[munson-blurbs]

Inspired by this TikTok. Thank you to @lesservillain for the idea and to @emsgoodthinkin for brainstorming with me!

Summary: Eddie jumpscares you one too many times, and so you decide to freak him out at work. But who will be more shocked: him, or you?

Warnings: fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, idiots in love, brief description of (fake) gore, joke about throwing up (doesn't actually happen), kissing as a joke (please only kiss w/ consent irl)

WC: 1.3k

It was just a joke. 

A joke that had started when Eddie had barged into your house—the man wouldn’t knock if his life depended on it—and proudly announced, “I got the job!”

The job in question was a haunted house performer at Hawkins’ annual Fall Festival. You’d both been going since you were kids, and his favorite part had always been the haunted house. 

He’d gotten word about his new job in early September. By mid-October, you’re fully sick and tired of his antics. 

“Boo!” he’d yelled as he jumped out from behind the Wheeler’s couch, making you leap out of your seat. 

“Raaahhh!” he’d growled in your ear while you were in the midst of a conversation with Robin, and once your heartbeat returned to normal, you flipped him off. 

His enthusiastic “Gotcha!” during your history quiz was the final straw. You’d yelped, actually shrieked in the middle of class, clapping a hand over your mouth as Mrs. Click glared at you. 

“I’m gonna get you back for that,” you’d hissed once you’d turned in your exam, growing more irritated when he’d just shook his head. 

“You can’t scare me,” he retorted with a smirk, leaning up against a locker. “You’ve never been able to freak me out, and you never will. Don’t even try, little girl.”

Challenge accepted. 

You spend the rest of the week wracking your brain for ideas. What is Eddie Munson afraid of? What will shock him?

The obvious answer is hiding a prized possession and making him think it was stolen or lost. You grin to yourself as you picture him frantically searching for Sweetheart; maybe you could leave a ransom note of sorts. 

But that plan has too many moving pieces, so you scrap it. You’re about to give up entirely when Robin inadvertently gives you an idea. 

“You guys coming to Steve’s party tomorrow?” she asks in between bites of her turkey sandwich. 

“I’m down,” you eagerly agree, itching to have a night out with friends. 

When Robin turns to Eddie, he shakes his head. “Gotta work,” he reminds her, wiggling his fingers to emphasize the spooky nature of his job. 

Robin rolls her eyes. “Fine, okay. Stop by after. I promise we won’t make you play spin the bottle again.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, cheeks redden, and he gets up from the lunch table without another word. 

Bingo. 

The plan is set: on Friday, before Steve’s party, you’ll pay Eddie a visit at the Fall Festival. It’ll be a visit he’ll never forget, you’re sure of that. 

Robin stands with you outside the haunted house, picking at a funnel cake with powdered sugar-coated fingers. “I’ll wait out here,” she promises, “but when you’re done, I wanna hear everything. Especially the look on his face.”

“You got it.” You shoot her a thumb’s up as you jog up to the bored-looking attendant taking tickets. 

You’re in. 

The first room just sets the tone. Eerie organ music pulses through an ancient sound system, and a fog machine creates a steam that prevents you from seeing the floor. Cobwebs hang in the corners of the ceiling, though you’re suspicious that they’re not intentional decorations. 

Eddie’s not in the next room, either; just a woman wearing a blood-spattered wedding dress, wielding a knife and clutching a plastic severed head. She’s screaming something about, “teaching him not to cheat with a bridesmaid,” and looks vaguely annoyed that you’re not quaking with terror. 

You go through three more rooms, getting increasingly irritating with the lack of Eddie in each one. He’s working tonight, so he has to be here—

Loud, stomping footsteps follow you into the dungeon-themed section of the house, and your heart skips a beat as you lay eyes on him. A distorted mask covers his face, but his unruly curls give him away despite the mad scientist costume he’s donning. He holds up a knife and creeps closer, a low growl emanating from his throat. You run until you no longer can, and he easily traps you, the cold metal gate pressing into your back. 

If you’re going to do it, now’s your chance. 

In one swift motion, you turn him so he’s backed up into the gate. A soft, confused “wha—?” leaves his lips as you lift his mask and lean in before you lose your nerve. Your lips press against his; hands on his cheeks as he accepts the way you melt into him.

Why isn’t he pulling away? Why isn’t he laughing and appreciating your prank? Why does it seem like he wants this…like he’s BEEN wanting this?

Fuck. Fuck. 

This isn’t what you were expecting. He’s kissing you back, surprised but hungry, and you’re the one who ends up breaking away. 

Before he can begin to question what’s happening, you dash out of the room. No. No, no, no. Your head spins as you attempt to process the emotions pulsing through your veins. 

It was supposed to be a way of getting him back for his unwavering desire to scare you. Show him what it’s like to be the one on the other side of the joke. Because that’s all it was; a joke. 

So why do you want to kiss him again?

Fresh air hits you like a slap in the face, and once you find Robin, you cling to her like a lifeline. 

“We have to go,” you mumble, dragging her to the exit and refusing to make eye contact. 

“Whoa, what happened?” When you refuse to answer, she sighs but doesn’t relent. “C’mon, did he, like, throw up or something?”

You shake your head. “I think he liked it.”

“Of course he did,” she says with a laugh, “the guy’s in love with you.” She nudges your hip with her own. “Toldja he would lose his shit.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Robs…when I said that I wanted him to ‘freak out,’ what did you think I meant?”

Robin crinkles her nose. “Um, that the Dingus-ette—that’s you—and her doting Dingus were finally going to admit that they have big, stupid crushes on each other?” Her expression falters when you stop in your tracks. “What did you mean?”

“I wanted,” you start, swallowing hard like a gob of peanut butter is stuck to the roof of your mouth, “I wanted to get him back for scaring me. I wanted to freak him out.”

“Mission accomplished.”

She’s no longer looking at you when she speaks, and you follow her gaze to where Eddie’s shuffling over to you. You want to beg her to stay, but she just squeezes your hand in a silent good luck. 

“Hi.” Eddie’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. “Can we talk?”

You can only nod in response. His mask is atop his mess of curls, and you can see the longing in his eyes. How have you never noticed it before? How did you not notice the need within yourself?

“Actually, I’m lying. I don’t want to talk.” With that, his arms pull you into him, torsos pressed together, and he’s kissing you. It’s like a missing link in a chain you hadn’t realized was broken, and you allow your hands to drape over his shoulders. You can feel him trembling slightly as he deepens the kiss. 

“You okay?” you murmur against his lips. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he answers, ducking his head behind his curtain of hair. “Guess ‘m just a little freaked out that this is really happening.”

A smile twitches at the corners of your mouth, and you lace your fingers with his. 

“Good.”

--

[iambilliejeanok]

Hello! Let me just say that i adore the way your write!! It’s so amazing🥰 Can i request something (however you want to write it really) where the character wakes reader up to ask them if reader loves them?

That was a terrible explanation i’m so sorry lol

I’d love if it could be with Kakashi, Jiraiya and Madara 🥰🫶 (or any characters you want)

Thank you so much!🥹🫶🏾💗😘

No warnings, Purely fluff, a small itty tiny bit angst, but just a small little bit I promise.

🌸Kakashi🌸

Kakashi doesn’t often stay asleep throughout the night, having you beside him in the nighttime drastically reduces the amount of nightmares he has, but unfortunately, he still has those nights where he wakes up sweating, too shook to actually fall asleep again. This time around though, he has you to watch over, so he’s not shaken up for too long, holding your body close to his as he watches you sleep peacefully, the warmth of your weight against him and your steady breathing quickly relaxing him. All this and maybe a book in his hands is a great opportunity for him to spend some time alone. When you begin stirring in your sleep he freezes, trying his best to not wake you up, but even while you’re sleeping, you shift up the bed to hug him, nuzzling your face against his neck, inhaling his addictive scent. At this point he has completely forgotten about the nightmare that woke him up, genuinely grateful for your presence in his life.

He realizes that even though he’s lost too many dearly loved ones, today, in this moment, he has you and in this moment, even though you are asleep against him, you still manage to comfort him, drawing his attention to this very moment. His heart begins to beat faster, Kakashi biting his lip as he tries to push away th intrusive thoughts of maybe losing you too. He can’t help himself, panic motivating his next action, slowly nodding your arm with his hand, his heart beating faster when you don’t wake up. He can’t fight the paranoia sometimes, now attempting to sit upright to try and disturb hour sleep, hoping you’d wake up. “Baby”, he calls, “Hey…Y/n, baby…wake up please”, he softly calls, finally able to release the breath he held in waiting for you to respond. Tonight is a difficult night for him, but he seemed to forget that you’re here, and that you will always be here, you’ll never leave his side. “Mmhmm?”, you sleepily respond, drifting in between reality and your dreams, hearing someone call your name. “Baby, wake up please”, he calls again, hope filling his heart when he sees your eyes finally open. “Y/n. Baby…are you awake? I’m sorry, wake up please”, he says, waiting for you to get up. “Hey babe, what’s up?”, you ask confused, trying to shake away the sleep. “Hey, is everything okay?’, you ask, rubbing your eyes while giving him a few pecks against his neck and cheek. He already feels silly for worrying so much. “Uhm”, he says, clearing thought, worried that you’d be annoyed for being woken up unnecessarily. “I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep, I’ll make it up to you i promise”, he hurriedly says and you can hear him swallow, finally noticing the dampness of his shirt, quickly sobering up at the realization that he could’ve had another nightmare.

“Kashi, its okay”, you say lovingly, cupping his cheek in the palm for your warm hand. “It’s always okay, are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?’, you worriedly ask, sitting up on your knees to straddle his lap. Feeling a little guilty for even thinking if asking you this, he looks down in shame, and you can feel his face drop in your palm. Gently lifting his head up you place the softest kiss he’s ever share with you yet on his lips, and you feel something wet against your thumb. “Oh sweetheart, what’s the matter?”, you ask after noticing the tear that fell down his cheek. “I was just scared”, he admits, failing to drop his head low again since you held his face firm in the palms of your hands. “What is it love? Another nightmare?”, and Kakashi slowly nods. You gasp, your hand reaching the back of his head to pull him into you, holding him close, wrapping you arms around him. surrounded by your scent, he feels so safe, is voice shaky as he asks the next question. “You still love me?, a small chuckle leaving his lips to mask his feelings. But you knew him like the back of your hand, holding him tighter. “I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and I’ll continue to love you no matter what”, you say, separating yourself from him to palm his cheeks again, “Kakashi, you’re the love of my life, you don’t ever have to doubt that okay?”. Placing another soft kiss against his lips, you feel him squeeze you tighter. “I promise I’ll never leave you, ever”. Kakashi wonders why he entertained any of those intrusive thoughts to begin with, of course you love him. “I love you so much”, he says, his words muffled against your neck, but you hear his word loud and clearly, the two of you embracing one another until you feel Kakashi doze off in your arms. The cutest big baby.

🌸Jiraiya🌸

Jiraiya constantly wonders how on earth a man like him was gifted with such a kind hearted, loving partner. A pervert who didn’t even think it capable of loving one person, but here he is, holding on to the love of his life, your hand loosely wrapped around a few of his fingers, Jiraiya smiling at just how precious you arm. Needing to use the bathroom, he ever so carefully creeps out of bed, but no, its not to cheat this time, no not with you, he left that life behind, its just to use the bathroom, the intense urge to be back in bed beside you exciting him so much it kind of scared him. After using the toilet, he stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. A strong sense of shame washed over him, thoughts of unworthiness saddening him once again. How exactly is he supposed to deal with all this love? A love so graceful he wondered if he truly deserved it.

How can she love you, you womanizing son of a b—, “No, she does love me…”, he spoke aloud, refusing to let any negative thoughts occupy his head any further. “And I’m not a womanizer.”, he added, looking down in shame, trying to convince himself he was right. No matter how hard he tried to fight himself, he just couldn’t stop. No one ever bothered loving him, i mean how could they when he was always onto the next, but maybe change is true. Man can change, he reminded himself, his eyes shut to try and center himself. But the more he tried to block it out the more doubtful he became. Was someone pranking him? All those of years of playing with peoples hearts had to have finally come to bite him in the butt right?

He couldn’t hold back any longer, he needed answers. Why?, Why does he deserve a chance at love, especially with someone like you. He desperately needed to know, turning off the bathroom light to make his way to your shared bed. Uncertainty eating him from the inside out, he decided to gently wake you up, his large frame spooning you from the front, placing gentle kisses on your face as he called your name. “Princess, wake up, wake up”. He is so nervous, the sound of his rapidly beating heart loud in in his, so loud he can no longer handle it, he just needs you to tell him. “Y/n, cmon, wake up”, which you finally do, not sure if you just heard Jiraiya whining in your ear or if you were dreaming…the latter making more sense, until you hear him open his mouth again. “So…you’re awake now?”, he impatiently asks, still gently nudging your arm. “Yes baba, I’m awake, are you okay?”, you yawn, stretching out a little before you scoot closer to him, happy to feel his warmth surround you once again. “Baby, I’m okay yes. Uh…are you?”, “Mmhmm?”, is all you say, burying your head in his chest to find some sleep agin, and just when you fly yourself drifting off again, he finally asks, “Do you really love me?”, his voice so low he wonders if you actually heard him, but you certainly did, smiling to yourself before wrapping a arm around him, placing small kisses against his neck. “Nothing matters to me more than you Jiraiya, I love you so much baba!”, your words soft and genuine, Jiraiya’s denial subsiding, gently squeezing you and placing kisses on your forehead. “Will you always love me?”, he asks, a small chuckle leaving your mouth over how whiny he came across, so out of character. “I don’t ever want to stop, loving you everyday makes me so happy” and with that Jiraiya could go on another day confident that he is loved.

🌸Madara🌸

Honestly, Madara just wants attention, he’s such an attention seeker that he’s willing to disturb your sleep if he’s bored enough, or sometimes just because its fun. I mean, he knows you love him, if anything he’d be confused if you didn’t, after all, he genuinely believes he’s the whole package and that you’re truly lucky to have him, but even so, there might be a teeny tiny bit of doubt in his heart sometimes. He will wake you up anyway, just because he can, its something you do too when you want cuddles, so he wants to have his turn tonight.

“Hey sweetheart”, he softly calls, rubbing your back as you lay on top of him. “Princess, its time to wake up”, he says, placing his hands on your underarms to effortlessly lift you up, your upper body dangling above him while he gently shakes you like a baby, which does the trick, your body jerking as you wake up from the feeling of falling, your arms flaying everywhere when you opened your eyes and realized you were not laying on anything. “Relax babe!”, Madara chuckles, gently lowering you to lay on top of him again. You immediately sit up on your elbows, your arms on each side of him as your stare him down, easily finding his blood red irises in the darkness of your room. “Babyyy that’s not funny!”, you whine, your husband still laughing at you, his pupils still spinning, recording the entire thing. “Heey”, you softly yell, biting your lips to try and hold yourself back from laughing, but his laugh was so contagious you just couldn’t, annoyed that you couldn’t be serious about this. “Babbbyyy!”, you giggle, lightly slapping his chest, his large hand cupping your cheek, as he slightly lifts himself up to plant a kiss against your lips. “I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to startle you like that”, his voice calm and deep, so soothing you felt like you could forgive him, leaning forward for another soft kiss, your lips simply pressing against his before parting. You could kiss him like that forever. “Why are you awake? And why did you wake me up?”, you question, your eyes almost closing as his hand now moved to the back of your head, massaging your scalp as you spoke. “I just wanted to know something”, he says, delaying the reason, making you impatiently whine, “Uh uh, i wont tell you why I woke you up if you whine like that”, he teases, “okay then goodnight”, you respond, laying down on his chest. “Okay okay wait”, he huffs, annoyed that you won.

“I, just wanted to ask if you love me?”, he asks, manipulating his voice to sound all innocent and cute, making you roll your eyes as you giggle. “I should be asking you that since you woke me up like that baby, but how can i not love my attention seeking little baby’, you tease, planting small kisses on is lips, making him smile. “Hey I’m not an attention seeker”, he says, lightly smacking you butt, a giggle escaping you lips. “Says the guy who woke me up to ask if i love him, even though I told you I love you a million times before we went to bed”, you yawn, snuggling into him once again, Madara lifting the blankets up to cover you. “Whatever princess, I love you okay?’, he says, wrapping his arms around you, smiling at your response and you quickly dosed off. “I love you so much”

@aiyaaayei 💗🫧

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [23] - Curiosity

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Relatives tend to pry.

Word Count: 2400

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of period, mentions of pregnancy. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“Charm, I have a question.”

You applied your lipstick, completely focused on your reflection in the mirror. “Hm?”

“Why do we keep having dinners with people we hate?”

You scoffed a laugh, then put the cap back on the lipstick before turning to Bucky.

“I wouldn’t say I hate my aunt,” you said. “I hate her son, not her. She’s just…”

“What?”

“Annoying.”

“I’ll rephrase my question, why do we keep having dinners with annoying people?”

You leaned back to the vanity. “Because we have complicated families, Bucky. I know it’s news for you.”

His phone vibrated and he read the text before typing in his reply.

“I have this thing—”

“Don’t even fucking try it!” you cut him off. “We’re married dickhead, you’re going to suffer with me. It’s on the prenup.”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky finished his sentence as if you didn’t interrupt him. “I have this thing tomorrow so I’ll have no time for lunch after the therapist—did you seriously put I’d suffer with you on the prenup?”

“Figuratively.”

He shot you a grin. “We’re the best married couple I know.”

You tried to hide your smile by pursing your lips together and turned around, then leaned in to check yourself in the mirror again, pretending to fix your lipstick. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky eyeing you up and down, his intense gaze sending a shiver down your spine and you arched a brow.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’d better not say it,” you warned him and he chuckled.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Just a little.”

“It’s just that…”

“Bucky.”

“You look beautiful.”

“Something tells me beautiful wasn’t the word in your mind.”

“Sweetheart,” he said. “You’re basically bent over in front of a mirror in that dress, there are so many things in my mind.”

You straightened your back to shoot him a look and he held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“You asked.”

“Can you perhaps be less horny when we’re about to have dinner with my family?”

“I’ll try.”

“Much appreciated,” you deadpanned as you walked past him, with him following you behind out of the apartment. You pressed the button on the elevator, then took a deep breath.

“We’re not shooting or threatening anyone tonight,” you said and Bucky tilted his head.

“Are you telling me or yourself that?”

You clicked your tongue. “Both.”

                                            *

You had never really liked spending time with your aunt even before your father started pitting you and Ian against each other for the heir position. At least she was never really around when you were growing up, even after Ian moved in with you, but she liked dropping by in the town from time to time.

And commenting on literally anything about you, from your relationships to how you looked.

Your aunt wasn’t even the only reason why this dinner was probably going to be tense as hell. Bucky was still furious at your father for the shit he pulled back at that dinner with the other families, so now you had to make sure no one started any fights while adamantly ignoring whatever your aunt would say to you.

Lovely.

“You must tell me all about the wedding!” your aunt said. “Starting with before it, actually. How did this—” she motioned between you and Bucky. “happen?”

Bucky gave her a charming smile.

“Well I suppose I managed to convince her,” he said. “Or after a while she got bored of rejecting me?”

“Reject you?” your aunt asked with a laugh. “Oh I can’t be the only one who remembers how she used to follow you around like a puppy, Y/N you were so adorable with that little schoolgirl crush!”

You stared at her for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“Yeah, then I grew up and grew out of it.”

“Obviously not, sweetheart,” your father said, making Ian bite down a smirk and you gritted your teeth, the memory of Bucky turning you down that night flashing before your eyes.

What was it, he had called you?

Daddy’s spoiled whiny princess.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Bucky said with a boyish grin and you reached out to grab your glass to take a sip of your wine.

Despite everything, despite you and Bucky getting along well nowadays, you still couldn’t shake off the resentment of that night. The anger, how pathetic he made you feel, it was still there even after years, but you frowned slightly, trying to focus.

“I suppose I should have seen this coming, there was this one time,” your aunt said with a laugh. “Back when you were in high school, I found your diary, do you remember?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I remember you reading it, yeah.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe!” your aunt said. “What with you sneaking out of the house at night, I was almost positive you had a bad influence boyfriend. That’s what your mother would have wanted, God rest her soul, for someone to keep an eye on you.”

Your father heaved a sigh, taking a sip of his wine at the mention of your mother and you raised your brows.

“Anyways, I didn’t have anything to worry about—”

“Auntie,” you said warningly and she waved a hand in the air.

“Oh it was years ago Y/N, get over it—pages and pages about you,” she told him as the pins and needles of embarrassment sunk into your cheeks while a cocky smile curled Bucky’s lips.

“Seriously?”

“I swear,” your aunt said and Ian hummed.

“I remember that fight.”

“Yeah that’s what happens when someone invades someone’s privacy,” you said, forcing yourself not to look at Bucky who looked very pleased with himself for some reason. Your aunt let out a small laugh.

“We’re family,” she said. “These things happen.”

“Did you read Ian’s diary as well?”

“I didn’t keep a diary.”

“And it was years ago,” your father said. “Let’s not have the same fight again, hm? Because the last I remember, you threw multiple vases at the wall during that fight sweetheart.”

You bit at your tongue and cleared your throat.

“How was Monaco?” you tried to change the subject and your aunt shrugged her shoulders.

“That’s a long story,” she said. “But there’s no place like home, that’s all I’ll tell you.”

“Another break up?” you asked her and she narrowed her eyes, but unsurprisingly, the men around the table missed the curt glare you two threw at each other.

“Can’t I be back because I miss you all?” your aunt asked after a beat. “I would’ve been here for the wedding as well if you two hadn’t rushed it.”

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” your father said and she nodded.

“Honestly, with how rushed it was I told your father perhaps it was because there was something to rush about. There isn’t though, is there? I mean you’re drinking.”

You forced yourself to smile, then shook your head. “No.”

Bucky frowned, looking between you two before a look of realization dawned on his face.

“Ah no,” he said. “That’s not why. To be fair, rushing was kind of my fault. I’ve been in love with her forever, so I didn’t want to wait any longer. Thankfully she agreed.”

“And when can we expect that?” your aunt asked with a smile and Bucky choked on his wine before clearing his throat.

“Hm?”

“Not for a very long time,” you said and your father nodded with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“I’m too young to be a grandfather, Nora.”

“Oh nonsense,” she told him. “You know what this business is like, and they’re in love! Obviously they want babies if they rushed the wedding. Have you two talked about how many yet?”

“I’m sorry, how many?” you repeated and she nodded.

“It’s good to be clear about the future, no? And Y/N once said she wanted two so Bucky, how many?”

Bucky blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat again.

“Uh…babies?”

“No, guns,” your aunt said with a laugh. “Of course babies!”

Bucky shot you a look as if begging you for help and you sat up straighter.

“That’s not in our plans right now.”

“But in the future?” your aunt insisted. “I mean surely you must have a number in mind.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, stealing a look at you. “Like um, like four maybe?”

You gawked at him. “I’m sorry, did you just say four?”

Bucky nodded his head.

“Yeah because you know, big family would be nice.”

“You—you do realize that for someone to have four kids, they’d have to spend three years as pregnant in total?” you asked him. “It’s basic math.”

“You want two, he wants four, three seems to be the perfect number,” your aunt joked and your father ran a hand over his face.

“They’ve just gotten married,” he reminded her. “It’s too early to talk about all that. More wine?”

You knew you and Bucky’s marriage was a sham and that you’d get a divorce as soon as you took over, but what you didn’t know was why exactly imagining Bucky having babies with someone else in his second marriage bothered you this much. The mere image was enough to churn your stomach, anger shooting through your system for some reason and you pursed your lips together, then held out your wine glass as well.

“Yes please.”

                                             *

Alright, this was getting ridiculous.

Even you knew that you were throwing a fit out of nowhere, but that did nothing to calm you down. Ever since last night, your head was full of the image of Bucky having the picture-perfect family after your divorce, so you had been in a particularly cranky mood since then. You had barely said two words to him when you came home, going straight to bed and when you woke up, you were still sulking.

Bucky had asked you what was going on multiple times, you had no idea how to explain the fact that you didn’t want him to have perfect babies and be perfectly happy with a perfect woman in a perfect marriage without sounding selfish.

Which, in all honesty was incredibly selfish.

So when the psychiatrist sat down in front of you two, it took her a couple of seconds of complete silence to motion between you two.

“I’m sensing a bit of tension?”

“You and me both,” Bucky said. “I have zero idea why. Charm?”

You narrowed your eyes, then crossed your arms.

“He has a housewife kink.”

“Whoa!” Bucky exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “What?!”

“I’m guessing you haven’t talked about kinks before then?”

“Well, it was news to me.”

“It’s also news to me!” Bucky told you. “Charm, what the fuck?”

“Sex is a huge part of—”

“Sex is fine,” Bucky told Dr. Raynor before turning to you. “What’s going on?”

“If you want someone who’s gonna—who’s gonna—” you couldn’t help but stammer. “Like, stay in a cottage and bake pies, it's fine if she wants to, everyone has their own goals but I'm not that person and—”

“What are you even talking about?!”

“Alright, let’s take a breather,” Dr. Raynor said. “How would you describe your sex life, Bucky?”

“I would not.”

“Y/N.”

“It has nothing to do with sex, it has everything to do with the fact that he wants four babies.”

“What does it even matter?” Bucky asked you and you let out a scoff.

“It just does,” you told him. “First you pushed me out of the picture with Anna, and now I find out—”

“Jesus Christ, we talked about this!”

“Who’s Anna?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you told Dr. Raynor with a forced smile. “His new employee that he decided to hire even if I was told I would be involved in every single business decision and if you ask Bucky, it’s totally coincidental. Even if she’s hot as fuck.”

“Are you on your period or something?” Bucky asked you and your jaw dropped, fury shooting through you.

“Excuse you?”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s the only explanation I can think of for this nonsense.”

“Don’t ever ask me if I’m on my period again or I—”

“Let’s calm down,” Dr. Raynor said. “May I ask what brought this on?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Bucky deadpanned, glaring at you and you took a deep breath.

“We had a deal before we got married,” you told her. “About me being involved in the business decisions.”

“It’s not even a big business decision for God’s sake,” Bucky said. “I told you before, it’s a trial period with Anna, that’s all.”

“And this…housewife kink?” Dr. Raynor said and Bucky rolled his eyes again.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” he said. “What does it matter, Charm? Hm? Considering the deal?”

You gritted your teeth and stole a look at Dr. Raynor before scoffing.

“I just don’t want to be pushed out of the picture when you find the person whom you want to have four babies with, alright?”

“Do you think you’ll get a divorce?” Dr. Raynor asked and you shifted your weight.

“Well, that’s always a possibility.”

Dr. Raynor frowned and Bucky gritted his teeth, an annoyed grin curling his lips before he clicked his tongue.

“No one is pushing you out of the picture, Charm.”

“I think we should talk about this insecurity though,” Dr. Raynor said and you let out a small laugh.

“I’m not insecure,” you said, your voice going a pitch higher. “I’m just saying like…I don’t want four babies.”

“And is this a deal breaker for you, Bucky?”

“I honestly don’t give a fuck,” Bucky said. “I was just speaking hypothetically, and before you ask again, she was the one who came up with that whole housewife kink thing—you have an actual kink for medieval knights, I’m not saying anything about that.”

“I don’t have a kink for medieval knights!”

“Do you mind if I give you both homework?” Dr. Raynor cut off your bickering. “How many times a week do you have sex?”

You and Bucky stared at each other before turning to her.

“Uh—” Bucky cleared his throat. “Charm?”

“Couple times?” you said like a question and Dr. Raynor hummed.

“I want you both to keep an intimacy journal.”

Bucky gawked at her. “Sorry, what?”

“An intimacy journal,” she said. “I want you both to write down how sex affects your communication and dynamic, how it feels before, during and after, and before the week is over, you will try one fantasy you’re both comfortable with, and write about how it made you feel.”

Bucky threw his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose and you nodded slowly, shifting your weight on the couch.

“Sex journal,” you muttered. “Wonderful.”

Chapter 24

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k words

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking

summary: growing closer to steve during the trip was pretty much inevitable, but it still surprises you how easily it happens

CHAPTER THIRTEEN | ❝𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆❞

Summer 2017

“Does that make sense?”

“I’ll be honest, not really, no.” 

It was dark in the small motel room and you both were facing each other. Your eyes had long adjusted to the dark, so you were able to vaguely make out Eddie’s face and the small smile pulling at his lips. 

“Okay, let me try to phrase it this way. You know that feeling you get when your heart drops?” He asked.

You nodded then. “Mhm, yeah.”

“That’s pretty much what it’s been like.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “So, you’re saying that this entire road trip has felt that way for you?”

“Yeah.”

“But, that’s the worst feeling ever.”

“No, sometimes it’s good. Like, when you're on a rollercoaster.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” You said, eyes falling shut just for a second before you opened them again and let out a laugh when you thought about something. “Y’know, when I asked how you've been feeling lately, I initially expected just a simple good or bad.”

“That would've been a boring answer,” He answered. You weren’t looking at him anymore, instead you were lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling, but you could still hear the smile in his voice. “So, how have you been feeling lately?”

“Good,” You answered. “And I’m okay with my answer being a boring one because I’m too tired to think of a better way to say it.”

You heard Eddie laugh. “Understandable.” 

You turned on your side again and faced him. He was still smiling and you smiled back. He’d been happy a lot lately, which was nice to see.

“Glad to know you’re doing good, though.”

You gave him a quick nod. “You too.”

This was the first time that you couldn’t block out the thought; the realization that you still liked him.

It didn’t surprise you at all. Instead, it annoyed you. Because there was still no way that you could admit it to him and it all still felt so hopeless. Only a month had passed since his breakup with Chrissy, and although he seemed better about it now, the thought of confessing anything to him felt like the dumbest idea ever.  

You pushed the realization away, trying to forget about it completely because you didn’t want it to ruin what was left of the road trip for you. Especially since there were only a handful of days left of it. 

“You falling asleep?” Eddie asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“A little bit, yeah,” You said softly, letting your eyes slip shut. It actually wasn’t that much of a lie. “Which is weird because I’m usually never the first one to fall asleep.”

“First time for everything.”

“Yeah,” You said, voice still quiet as you turned away from him again. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

Sunday quickly became your favorite day of the trip. It was the only day that ended up feeling like an actual vacation.  

You and Steve decided to order in breakfast because neither of you could really bother getting out of the room, or even out of bed— especially you. Your body was still aching after experiencing the most intense hike that you’d probably ever been on, even though it had been deemed as “beginner-friendly.” 

You managed to get out of bed when the food showed up and Steve decided to set it up on the table outside on the balcony— everything about the room was too nice and too big, even the balcony. 

You expected to spend the majority of the day with Steve’s parents, and you were mentally preparing yourself for that inevitability as you ate breakfast. But then his dad was calling and Steve was pulling his phone out of his pocket and proceeding to talk to him inside for the next few minutes. 

“I just got us out of going on an all day boat ride with my parents and aunt and uncle,” He told you when he returned, walking over to you and pocketing his phone back in the basketball shorts he was wearing. 

“How did you do it?” You had asked as you took another bite of fruit from the bowl that he ordered. 

He sat back down across from you. “I said that you get seasick easily.”

“Solid excuse.”

“We do have to meet them for dinner, though,” He said and you nodded at his words because you were completely okay with doing that. 

You two spent the rest of the morning in your room, on the balcony specifically, and then you were suggesting that you go to the beach because the weather was too good not to and the view of it from the balcony also made it look really nice. Hours were spent out there in the sand and in the prettiest blue water until the heat became too unbearable and you found yourselves back in the room until the sun went down. 

Even the dinner with his parents got canceled because, after the boat ride, they were too exhausted to do anything else; apparently, there had been a lot of snorkeling involved. So, you and Steve had dinner alone and then ended up at one of the bars on the resort that was having a karaoke night. There was something about watching drunk people on vacation doing karaoke that was very amusing to both of you. 

You were the one that tipsily suggested that you two play rock, paper, scissors, and whoever lost had to go up and do a song, and Steve was laughing as he agreed. You lost on the tiebreaker third round but ultimately refused to follow through with the punishment because you weren’t near drunk enough to go and sing something and not throw up from embarrassment. 

“You still owe me a song,” Steve reminded you now as you two sat by the pool. “Or did you forget about last night?”

You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking at you. You instead took a sip from the drink in your hand— the lemonade that he had actually gotten for you barely ten minutes ago. The weather was hotter than yesterday, but the umbrellas covering your and Steve’s long lounge chairs made it actually feel okay, and the drink was helping too. And then there was the added fact that today was your last full day here that made you want to stay out by the pool for as long as you possibly could. 

Steve had been the one to suggest the pool day idea when you two woke up and you immediately agreed. And then, barely two hours later, alternating between actually being in the pool and wasting away next to it in two lounge chairs was where you found yourselves after having breakfast with his parents and one of his aunts and older cousin. You two had purposefully acted extremely smitten at breakfast— chairs pushed close together, hands held, an arm draped around your shoulders at one point, and yours circling his torso at another— so no one asked to join you; surprisingly, not even his mom. It seemed like the idea of you and Steve being a perfectly happy and serious couple was fully sold, and you felt relieved. 

You set the drink in your hand down and then finally looked at Steve. “I didn’t forget about last night. But, that song is never gonna happen. I don’t stand by the things done or said by my past drunk self.”

“You weren’t even drunk then.”

“Tipsy still counts.”

He laughed a bit, slightly adjusting the sunglasses he was wearing, a fancy-looking pair of black Ray-Bans. “That’s the shittiest excuse.”

You knew that it was but you still stood by it. “I have no idea why I suggested the karaoke thing. You can have anything else for winning rock, paper, scissors.”

Steve nodded and things were quiet just for a moment before he was asking, “What are you reading?”

You looked down at the book in your towel-covered lap. It was a short novel, barely two hundred pages, and you were only a few chapters in. “It’s something for one of my classes.”

“Read to me.”

For a second, you simply looked at him with an amused smile on your face. And then you were saying, “Seriously?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, there’s really nothing else to do. And you said I could get anything else I wanted.”

You gasped dramatically. “Holy shit, is this the moment where I finally turn you into a person who doesn’t hate books?”

Steve gave you a playful smile. “It is. This is your one shot.”

You let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes and then met his gaze. You fought the urge to reach over the few feet that separated the two of you and steal his sunglasses for no other reason than you wanting to see his stupid brown eyes. 

You and he had grown closer over the last couple of days, which shouldn’t have surprised you because, with the set of circumstances that you two were in, it was kind of inevitable. But still, you were pretty surprised about how much more you two felt like actual friends. It was a friendship that you had a feeling you’d really miss once all of this was done and over. 

Pushing your thoughts away from that for the time being, you gave him a brief catch-up on everything that had happened in the book so far and then you picked up where you left off, reading out loud for him. It felt a bit awkward at first, you couldn’t remember the last time you read a book to someone or even just read out loud, but then you were falling into a sort of rhythm and you felt perfectly fine. 

Eventually, you two moved back into the pool— it was too hot not to. Steve got all of the way in and you simply sat on the edge with your legs in so that you didn’t get the book wet. Everyone else in the pool probably thought you two looked insane, you reading out loud to him, but it was hard to really care or even feel all that weird about it. 

Steve moved closer to you, crossing his arms and resting them on your thighs. You told yourself that the sudden jolt you felt was from his cold and wet arms abruptly touching your dry skin, nothing else. This wasn’t that far off from any other time you two had touched— holding hands or keeping one another close with arms draped around each other. However, there was something about this moment that felt the tiniest bit different from the others because this moment wasn’t for show.

Or maybe it was. Actually, you quickly figured that it definitely was because his parents could technically pop up at any minute, so it would be good to just keep looking completely infatuated with each other. Right? Yeah, of course. 

Steve turned his head and rested it on his folded arms. 

“Are you still listening?” You asked, stopping in the middle of the sentence you’d been reading. His damp hair was dripping onto you but you didn’t even mind it all that much. 

“Of course.” 

You stole his sunglasses then, putting them on for a second before pushing them up and letting them sit on the top of your head. 

A part of you wished that you could just stay stuck here in this moment— in this entire weekend, actually. Where things weren’t complicated and you were basically living a life that was much easier than your actual one. Where your thoughts and feelings toward the Eddie situation were tossed to the side for the time being, and where you didn’t have to preemptively stress over the questions you knew that everyone would have when you eventually told them that you and Steve were “broken up;” you were still in the middle of working out a story that you hoped would make enough sense to them. 

You knew that going back to reality would suck and it was nice to push your mind away from it all, even just for a short amount of time. You were good at that— avoiding certain thoughts and problems. If you weren’t overthinking, you were probably avoiding.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“Stop, there’s no way that you actually think that’s gonna happen,” You said as you shook your head. It was that head shake that made you realize that the half-empty glass of champagne you had sitting next to you at this table was doing its job. 

There was an amused smile on Steve’s face as he simply said, “Why not?”

“He can’t die. He’s the son. It would make no sense for him to die,” You said with another head shake and another reminder that you were the tiniest bit tipsy. Talking about a book with Steve in the middle of a wedding reception wasn’t exactly where you expected the night to go— especially since it was him who brought it up in the first place— but you liked it just the same. 

“Yeah, exactly,” He told you. “That’s exactly why it would happen. Right as he and the dad finally get their relationship to a good place, boom, he dies.”

You refused to believe that Steve could possibly be right; even if his words did kind of, sort of, maybe make sense.  

“You’re insan–” You weren’t even able to finish your words before he was abruptly kissing you.

It was entirely unexpected and also entirely unlike the moment barely two days ago when he gave you the quickest peck that quite literally felt like nothing. This one reminded you a lot more of your date with him— that first and only date barely a month ago where he kissed you and for the briefest second it actually felt right. 

In this moment, Steve had one hand on your cheek and he was moving in quickly, but his lips were still softly finding yours; it seemed entirely contradictory but somehow he managed to do it so smoothly. 

Your heart did a weird thing— a sudden drop that surprisingly didn’t feel all that scary and made you think about that conversation in that motel room with Eddie, a moment that felt like forever ago. And then all you could think was why the hell were you thinking about that moment in this one? 

This was more than just a simple peck, but still, you had no time to really process it before Steve was pulling away, lips finding your cheek instead and then lingering by your ear. To say that you were completely sobered up would be an understatement. 

“Sorry for the no warning. My mom was walking past and looking our way, and I wanna sell this as much as we can before we end things.”

“Mhm, got it, no problem,” You said softly, and then before he could potentially question your sudden shyness and whatever else was happening with you right then, you continued. “You wanna dance? That’ll probably really sell it, and this is a good song for it too.”

You didn’t recognize the song playing, but it was slow; a soft guitar melody that you two could easily move together to. 

Steve pulled away from your ear then, meeting your eyes and nodding. “Sure, yeah, that’s a good idea.”

You finished what was left of the champagne in your glass and then set it down on the table before standing up. Steve led the way and you followed him onto what was probably the most lively dance floor you’d ever seen at a wedding. The number of people who danced and genuinely looked like they were having a good time when more upbeat songs were being played during the first hour and a half was actually surprising to you. And even at this moment, there were so many couples paired up on the floor and swaying to the soft song. 

Your hands came up to rest on Steve’s shoulders and then linked at the nape of his neck, and his circled your waist and settled at the small of your back. You could feel the warmth of his touch through the silky fabric of the dress you were wearing; or maybe that was in your head. Either way, with how close you and him were right then, everything was weirdly starting to feel a bit too real and serious, so you quickly decided to bring up the first thing that you could think of. 

“Your mom does hate me, by the way. You were right about that.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “She said that to you?”

“Not outwardly, but I could read between the lines,” You responded. “I forgot to tell you, but it happened when she asked me to go to the gift shop with her before the hike on Saturday. She mentioned that you and I look happy together, and it seems like I make you happier than Nancy did, which is good. But, she also implied that I’m only “good” for you for now and definitely not forever because I’m not a certain kind of girl from a certain kind of family. I’m guessing certain means rich.”

“I’m sorry,” He said and he sounded so genuine about it that you weren’t sure if he was apologizing for his mom’s words or for something else entirely. 

You shook your head anyway. “No, it’s okay. It’s good, honestly, because it means that this is working. She believes that we’re— well, more specifically, you— are happy and in love and in a great relationship. So once you tell her that we broke up because I cheated or whatever, she’ll believe that you’re actually heartbroken about it. This is definitely gonna work for you.” 

“This should’ve worked for you too. I still don’t get why it hasn’t,” Steve said, shifting the conversation to what you really didn’t want to talk about, but, of course, he didn’t know that. “I can tell that Eddie likes you. It just doesn’t make sense why he hasn’t admitted it to you yet.” 

“It’s okay. It’s fine,” You said and shrugged like it was truly no big deal, even though it was and you’d been trying for the past week to convince yourself that it wasn’t. “Doesn’t matter, honestly.”

Steve gave you a look that was too hard to decipher. “I feel bad, though. This whole thing was for you.”

You didn’t say anything in response to that and instead focused on the music playing; the current song started to fade out and it transitioned into another one that sounded similar. 

You knew that this was when you should’ve been honest with him. You should’ve finally told him about the conversation you had with Eddie; the rejection that you’d been trying hard to avoid thinking about because you just wanted to move on from it. 

“Maybe I can say something to him,” Steve started before you could potentially admit any part of the truth. “Tell him that I can tell that he likes you, and then maybe it’ll all finally click into place for him and–”

You were shaking your head and interrupting him mid-sentence. “No, stop, there’s no way you’re doing that.” The thought of that happening made your heart drop and that one was not in a good way. “Seriously, Steve, it’s okay that this whole fake dating thing didn’t work for me.”

You could tell from the look on his face that he was going to try and debate your words, maybe even try to convince you that his idea was a good one, so you pulled away from him and quickly walked off before he could say anything. A part of you wanted to leave this banquet hall that the reception was in and head back to your and Steve’s room. Simply wallow for the rest of the night and continue to forget and push away everything that you didn’t want to think about. It was a walk that you knew would take less than five minutes, even with the slightly uncomfortable shoes you were wearing. 

Instead, though, you sat back down at the table that you and Steve had been occupying throughout the night because that felt a thousand times less dramatic. 

Steve joined you after a second, once again sitting down in the chair across from you. “Hey, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll stop bringing it up.” 

You shook your head, more so at yourself than at him. “I’m sorry too. For walking away from you back there; that was shitty. It’s just…” You trailed off, still unable to say the words, the truth. Ultimately, you shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever. It’s okay.”

The only thing you wanted to do right then was end that part of the conversation entirely— no more talking about you and what worked and what didn’t work and whatever else. 

Before Steve could say anything, you were leaning in and kissing him. It lingered longer than just a simple peck, but it was still quick; it was basically a repeat of what he did to you barely ten minutes ago. When you pulled back, you could tell that he was surprised by the abruptness of it.

“That was just in case your parents were watching us,” You said as you let one of your hands find his, trying to look like that “happy couple” again. “Don’t want them to think that we’re mad at each other or something for leaving the dance floor abruptly.”

He nodded, throwing on the sweetest and most charming Steve Harrington smile that you’d probably ever seen. “Good thinking.”

“Thank you,” You responded with the quickest nod. “Now can we please just drink more champagne and have fun on our last night here? No talk of anything else.” 

He gave you a real smile then. “Yes, cheers to that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

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