#just look at that chest and the chain and the open sweater as my friend would say JAYSUS!!!

[make-a-little-mischief]

After I'vewatchedthisvideoamilliontimes later, I finally caught how gorgeous and sexy Jer touching his chest is 😍💕

Oy and vey and so many heart palpitations

[dwaekkicidal]

The Library

˚ʚPerv!Emo!Han Jisung x Cutesy!Fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Second part of 'The Incidents' Series; based off of this ask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 2.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: told from his pov, jisung is a huge perv/creep, accidental stimulation (m receiving), (semi)public masturbation (m)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: Italics are Han's thoughts! also the picture is just a reference for the outfit i had in mind :)

The Incidents Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Han wasn’t sure what came over him that first time. He genuinely didn't know when he grew the balls to do such a thing in a public place with his crush not even a foot away— even touching him at one point during it. But as the weeks went on he found himself doing it more and more, to the point where the shame was almost nonexistent from how normal it became for him.

Another thing that became normal was hanging out with the girl outside of class. They even exchanged numbers after the first week. For “studying” purposes. Or whatever lie he told her as an excuse to get her phone number. Part of him was excited, it’s a chance to get to know her better! But the other part of him was dreading the closeness that would ensue. God forbid if she ever found out about what I did..

With that thought lingering around his mind he opens the giant library doors, slipping inside quietly and nodding at the clerk as he walks past. The glasses on his head falter with the nod, but he fixes them in place before fiddling with his chain. He walks to his usual spot in complete silence, not even sparing the packed desks a glance as he focuses on the music in his airpods. Unfortunately for him, this is how he misses a set of eyes that landed him from the moment he walked in.

He also misses the way she interrupts herself from talking to her friends to stare at him wide-eyed, not used to seeing him in anything but an oversized sweater. She looks him up and down in awe, from the glasses that sit on top of his beanie to his black turtleneck that’s decorated with a silver Cuban chain necklace. Then to his long sleeves that are rolled up to his elbows, showing off his watch and shiny rings. “Oh. My. Gosh.” She excuses herself from her friends and gathers her things, running after him.

The boy in question finally makes it to his secluded spot with no extra social interaction and he sets up his study supplies around the table, making sure to put his bag in the empty chair beside him. He looks around, smiling to himself at the lack of people around and the giant window beside him that shows off the cloudy weather. It might be cringe, but fuck do I love this weather. He double-checks his bag for his umbrella and pulls out his laptop. It boots up quickly and he types in the pincode just in time to see a blob of white in the corner of his eye.

“Hannie!!!" He hears it through his music. He turns his head to see you moving towards him with a big smile. Speak of the devil..

He can’t stop his eyes from darting down to her chest, even if he wanted to, and he watches it shake as she prances up to him happily. The girl hugs his arm and looks him up and down again, “You look so good!!” Her right hand detaches from his arm to trace the pattern of his necklace, “I’ve never seen you in anything but a big sweater.. You should dress like this more often!” He flushes at the compliment, looking around nervously because he knows that she never wanders around alone. “T-Thank you.. My friend is having a birthday party later but I wanted to study a little bit before I went..”

Her shiny lips pucker as she continues to shamelessly check him out. He immediately notices that instead of her usual red-pink tint, it's now a light red gloss. “Ooo, that sounds like fun! Can I sit with you? I promise I won’t get in the way!” He watches the pout form on her lips and his gaze shifts up, taking in the full pleading expression and puppy eyes. Their eyes meet and his dick twitches. God damn you. He nods reluctantly, taking one last look around to make sure nobody is near before sitting.

He expects her to take the seat across from him but is shocked as he watches her carefully hang his bag on the back of his chair and take the seat directly beside him. She sets her pink bunny bag on the table and crosses her legs, tilting her head to nosily look at his screen. She smiles and bites her lip to hold back a chuckle at his wallpaper, all black with some depressed emo-lord anime character in the corner. He normally would have flinched at the pure audacity and lack of privacy, but his eyes were too focused on something else.

Who the fuck casually wears thigh highs like those.. and why is her dress so fucking short again?!? He gulps, watching as she stretches and as the dress lifts farther up her thighs. He finds himself in yet another situation where if she opened her thighs even the slightest, he would get a glimpse of her panties. And by whatever god is out there, she actually does. Her legs separate for a moment and she stretches them out too before crossing them again.

His jaw drops slightly and he starts to drool, almost forgetting where he’s at completely. Baby-pink, partially sheer, and lace. I’m going to fucking die.. He discreetly adjusts himself in his pants but is all too nervous this time to do anything more. I know damn well one of her goons is around here somewhere..

He instead revels in the newfound discovery. It only lasts a short while longer due to her speaking up again. She brings up their upcoming project, one that was announced just a few days prior, and confidently asks him to be her partner for it. His eyes widened slightly, I literally just convinced that professor to let me do it alone.. He opens his mouth to respond but is cut off.

“Yo- Who’s this freak?”

Han flinches at the sound of a new voice, a deeper, nasally one that he recognizes all too well. Fucking knew it. He glances over to see one of the shithead frat boys that glues himself to her side in hopes that she’ll fuck him. He stares down at Han with a frown, looking him up and down before turning to the girl.

“That’s not nice, Juwon. This is Hannie! He’s my friend.” Han watches as she turns to the other man. He can’t see her expression but from the annoyed eye roll from him, he can only assume it wasn’t anything good. He hears a faint “Don’t be an ass.” before she turns her back to him and looks at Han with an apologetic smile.

He returns the smile and turns his attention back to his laptop, finally getting some work done as the two of them chat beside him. Han picks up on some words here and there, something about a party next week that his frat is throwing. He faintly picks up on a “plus one” agreement but ultimately pushes it to the back of his head.

He doesn’t get much farther on the document. Instead of focusing on it as he should have, his brain only goes back to those pretty pink panties he got a glimpse of. Eventually, he gives up completely on the work and puts on a youtube video to pretend to watch as he zones out. The two beside him talk for some more time before she shoos him away, teasingly complaining with a “Look! You made me distract Hannie!” and “We were in the middle of something, shoo shoo!”

From the corner of his eye, he watches the boy stare at him angrily for a moment before finally leaving. Once he’s out of sight she turns to Han again, apologizing to him sweetly with those shiny eyes looking up at him. He laughs it off and closes the video, reopening the document to work on his assignment again.

She quietly watches as he finally manages to fill out all the questions, scrolling through her phone while she waits. When he sighs, stretches, and starts to digitally turn in the assignment, she finally places her phone on the table.

He suddenly feels a hand on his thigh. She taps it at first but when he turns to meet her gaze, she rests it flatly across his thigh. “Hannie? About the project, we should meet up at my house tomorrow to work on it.” She smiles and looks up at him. The mere thought of stepping foot into her bedroom has his eye twitching. “Y-Yeah, sure..” Wait. I didn’t even agree to do it with you yet?? 

She pulls his laptop towards her body, leaning in slightly as she creates a new powerpoint document and adds herself to it as a collaborator. While she does so, he lets his gaze fall to her chest. Her cardigan had fallen off her shoulders, giving him the perfect view of her collarbone and upper chest. As she leaned into the screen more, it even gave him a small glimpse of her bra-ridden boobs as her dress fell forward. And they fucking match with the panties?? He subconsciously leans forward, trying to get a look at her nipples-

“There we go!” He jumps and backs away, watching her lean backward and turn to look up at him, “I added myself so we can start the blueprint before you come over.” Oh, I’ll ‘come’ all right. He clears his throat and nods, taking back his laptop so he can pack it away into his bag. He feels her eyes on him but ignores it as best as he can until he runs out of items to pack away.

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, her perfume now flooding his senses as she leans into him more. He sees her lips move, but his eyes can’t choose which thing to focus on and it leads to him completely ignoring what she said. “H-Huh?” In the distraction of her pretty looks and her delicious smell, he almost missed the way her hand returned to his thigh. He did not, however, miss the way her hand slid up his thigh when she leaned in more.

“I asked if you were okay. You look sick again.” She goes on to describe something about how it looks like he has a cold. He would have cared, and he should have! He was going to until she turns her head away to greet a passing friend, causing her hand accidentally slide against his bulge. It's that point that makes him completely lose his sense of morality.

He freezes in place, body all sweaty as he tries to process what is going on. He knows he should have said something, and he honestly tried to! But the only thing that came out of his mouth was a shaky breath almost followed by a moan until he bit his lip harshly. The warmth of her hand seeps through his pants and he can’t help but soak in it. He turns his head to the window, pretending to watch the passing cars as he leans back to lets her hand rest better against his dick.

He only turns back towards her when he hears goodbyes get exchanged. “Oh, Hannie.. You see what I mean?? Now your face is all red!” She leans forward even more and accidentally pushes down more on his dick, making his breath hitch as he closes his eyes tightly. “Y-Yeah but you…. Your h-hand..” He nods his head down at his crotch, not trusting himself to hold back the moan that he feels crawling out of his throat. It was silent after that, but he could tell the exact moment she realized what happened when she gasped.

She remove her hand and her normally sweet, calm voice becomes panicked, “Oh! C-Crap.. I’m so sorry Hannie! I thought that was still your leg..” He clears his throat and adjusts his sitting position with a red face. Eventually not being able to find any comfort, he just stands up and snatches his bag before moving away. “I-I gotta go! I’ll.. text you..?” He says it in a questioning tone but gives her no time to respond as he beelines it for the bathroom, keeping his head down and covering his crotch with his bag the whole way.

He throws the door open and slams it shut, making sure the stalls are empty before locking the main door. The bag with his laptop is almost thrown onto the sink and forgotten about as he unbuttons his pants, pulling down the fabric alongside his boxers. His dick twitches the second it meets the cold bathroom air and he stares down at it in awe. His tip is an angry red and his whole length twitches repeatedly as he recalls the feeling of her hand against it, albeit clothed.

He wraps his hand around himself to relieve some of the pain, squeezing it even more as he starts to jerk off. He’s so riled up from everything that took place in the span of a singular hour so it doesn't take long to build up his orgasm. His mind starts to wander as it usually does: starting with fantasizing about her pretty, glossy lips wrapped around his dick. But this time it quickly changes to the image of her hand wrapped around him. He wonders how soft her hands would be and if they could even fit around his entire width.

Then he’s overwhelmingly reminded of the other events. Her thigh-highs, her bra… her underwear. He moans a little too loudly at the memory that's now engraved in his mind. The sight of the skin there, covered in sheer, baby-pink lace. Fuck. If only she opened her legs a little more. Maybe I could’ve seen her pretty pussy.. He imagines it. Now knowing what the skin down there looks like leaves little to no room for imagination. He can easily guess what her folds would look like, ugh. and that pretty clit..

He throws his head back, legs shaking and stomach squeezing tightly as his hand speeds up. The sound of wet squelching fills the room as he paints ropes, some of it getting onto his hand, but most of it landing on the two-toned floor tiles. He lets out desperate whines towards the ceiling as he continues to cum even more than usual. When he’s finally finished painting the floor he lets shaky breathes leave his lips. His eyes trace the messy pattern on the floor as the sounds of his breathing echo around the bathroom.

He manages to clean himself up and goes to grab napkins to wipe the floor before he realizes that he still has a birthday party to go to. He glances at his watch for a moment and groans when he realizes that he’s going to be late now.

This girl is going to be the death of me.

Taglist: (purple=can't be tagged)

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08 @grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

@easypeezylemonsquezy @iiriam @soaplickerrr @kimahreummm @seungfl0wer @4l17h4 @moonlightshostage

[cmdrfupa]

i. Not Today

Toji x Reader

Working alone was always the rule. No one to slow you down when you had to run and no one for him to save when shit hit the fan. That's until the best in the game were needed together.

Former Mercenary/Hitman Toji Fushiguro only wants to make enough to disappear in the next year as the job is no longer worth the risk. You’ve found a way to just enjoy the thrill of the con as a professional grifter and former mafia fixer. Now forced to find out just how deep the world of art dealings goes as your next mark is far more twisted than you realized.

an: I wish I could tell you that I'll stop thinking about Toji but we know that’ll never happen. I've been revisiting games and media lately where the lead is some former army man with little to lose and I saw our dark-haired dilf immediately. Something felt right about it and here we are! A JJK AU where some of our faves will make an appearance.

CW for the series: adult themes, use of alcohol and drugs, sexual undertones, violence, full blown mature themes. Will be updated as necessary.

Dividers from the lovely @/saradika-graphics

Shiu made the mistake of scheduling Toji’s meeting at the same time as yours. He says your meeting was the mistake but let's be real. 

The only thing you wanted to do was avoid the smug bastard in the hallway. Which worked til now.

“Kong. I know I owe you, but this can't be what you're cashing in on.” the up and down you gave Toji made him grin.

“Ouch, princess. What if I'm the man you've been waiting for?”

“Then I’ll off myself and try again in my next reincarnation. Kong.” you looked back over to your already stressed friend of over a decade.

“Sorry kid. I need the best and both of you are my best. It won’t hurt to play nice.”  Shiu opened a fresh pack of cigarettes, effortlessly shaking one out and putting it in his mouth. 

Toji grabbed the lighter, igniting the flame for Shiu. “If you’re worried about your safety, you’re safe with me, doll face. It’s only for one night.” 

Bewildered was an understatement as Shiu shook his head, “A month.” 

“No can do, Shi. A month is fucking nuts.” 

You smiled, sitting on Shiu’s desk as Toji paced to the window. “Worried I won’t be able to protect you, Prince Charming? You're safe with me.” 

If the daggers in his eyes had their way, you would’ve felt them pierce your chest. “You’re cute but don’t push me.”

“Is someone getting angys?”

“Angys? Are you a child?”

“No, but I can beat your ass like a grown man.”

Grabbing the largest book on his desk, Shiu slammed it down with little effort. “Fucks sake, shut up. The both of you.” 

You swiftly jumped off his desk, shifting your attention back to the cigarette hanging from his lips, Toji came and stood beside you. It began to feel like a disciplinary meeting with the headmaster. 

“Look. It's a month-long job minimum. Per diem with an 800,000 payout at the end. They need a charmer and a fucking beast to retrieve some goods and get intel so you two need to work as a couple to get this done. Either you both take it, or it's off the table and you won't have shit to do for the next 3 months.”

“800 split?” you questioned.

“No. Per person.” 

800,000 would give you a more than comfy cushion to sit on for maybe a month. Then you'd get tired of the cushion and beg Shiu for something to keep you busy. There was never an end to the thrill of scamming the ultra-rich and occasionally watching the life drain from a few. 

“I will not be your babysitter during this. You're a grown-ass woman and I refuse to have a brat slow me down. Understood?”

He was so pretty in the off-white cable-knit sweater that swallowed him but that mouth was going to have you punching his throat in a matter of minutes. 

“I'm willing to do the job as long as your chained puppy can treat me like an adult. I can handle myself.” 

“Already the first steps towards being a loving couple. You're gonna be fine, kids.” Shiu stepped between you two, smiling as if he were a proud parent. He squeezed your shoulders. “Everything you need will be sent over in 2 hours. I have the twins working on your background stories and covers. You leave at the end of the week.”

Strength. Resilience. Mindfulness. Breathe.

“Why don't we get matching shirts so they know that you're mine? Sound good, sweetie?" The vibrato in the pet name gave your resolve a run for its money. Fortunately, the smug look on his face once you looked at him dried you back up. 

“Yeah! I think ‘I’m with dumbass’ would look cute in bubble letters on a baby tee, no?” 

The flight was more than perfect. Business class with every accommodation known to man thanks to Shiu knowing you would never do anything less. You settled into the second half of your flight preparing to get a little rest before landing. 

“Toji? Can you wake me when they come around with dining options?” you lowered the partition to find Toji intently reading a home improvement magazine.

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll order so I can wake you when it's here.”

“I don't know what they'll be serving. Just wake me—”

“There's an International and Japanese cuisine menu. Either beef filet steak with a red wine sauce and a side autumn plate or pasta gratin with chum salmon & black truffles with roasted pumpkin.” finally looking up from the magazine, his deadpan gaze met your face. “The Japanese cuisine has Wagyu curry with eggplant and mitsuba and sansho peppers or grilled black cod, a crab omelet with grilled shiitake and taro. What sounds good.” 

Taken aback, you bat your lashes trying to digest this robotic answer to your request.

“Did you not hear me?” 

“I did. You just.. Did you study the menu or something.” you rolled the partition down completely, studying the expressionless man. 

“It rolled across the screen earlier and I took a mental note of it. So, can you tell me so I can tell the cute attendant when I call for her to come back? She's a busy woman.” 

A sigh so deep you felt your nervous system reboot as you rolled your eyes. 

“Tell your girlfriend I’d like the grilled black cod meal please.”

“Will do. I'll try to get you an extra omelet for being such a supportive wife as I date around. Thank you, sweetheart.” Toji winked and rolled up the partition with a grin like a Cheshire cat spread across his mug. “Sweet dreams.” 

“You’ve gotta hurry up, doll face. The race starts in 30 minutes and the driver is pulling up any minute now. Let's go” Toji yelled through the hall as he made his way to your room in the villa. His loafers lightly clacked along the polished granite floors as he walked into your room. “You don't need a whole canister of paint for makeup. Just put some blush on and let's get moving.” 

“Can’t rush perfection, Fushiguro. And I'm just putting on my earrings. Relax.” you popped your head from the bathroom and raised your brows. “Wow. You clean up nicely. I thought you could only wear those tight-ass Uniqlo t-shirts.” 

A crisp, light blue button-down that could only do so much to hide his muscular build, and a pair of deep indigo chino pants to round off the fit. “Funny. Now can you please come on? We’re on a time crunch and I don't want to be around those old rotting money bags for longer than necessary.” 

Rolling your eyes as you went back to looking in the mirror one more time, you walked out to the bedroom. “Alright. Let's go.” 

Toji didn't have to say anything when his eyes did the talking for him. “You gotta wear shit like this more often. I'll be more open to actually listening to your words if you do.” 

You grimaced as you walked past him to the front door. “Please stop talking.” You smiled as you walked out, the driver holding the car door open as you gave him a warm thank you before sliding in.

Toji got in behind you, getting strapped in as you did. When given the clear, the driver pulled off. 

 “Doll face.”

“What, Toji.”

“Being married to you is fun. Best open relationship ever.”

Toji winked before going through his phone, going over the files one more time.

  “God. If you exist, please turn this shit over right now,” you whined as the car whirled down the road.

The sun hangs high over Monza’s glittering skyline, casting a golden sheen over the harbor and its rows of yachts. The thunderous roar of F1 engines echoed through the streets, as sleek cars zip past. The race is in full swing, but the real spectacle isn't on the track—it's in the VIP section.

The third row to the left of the podium sat your target: KK. 

Notorious organized crime affiliation who tends to dabble in high-stakes art deals, illicit trades, and other illegal acts. 

He smiled like a kid in a candy store watching how everyone tried to please his every desire. Two men stood behind him as he continued to conversate with the crowd around him.  

You both weaved through the crowd with practiced grace. Toji exchanges pleasantries with a collector while you check your reflection in the mirrored windows of the luxury suite, your gaze never drifting far from KK.

Feigning boredom, you let out a resounding sigh, twirling around to face Toji. “Formula One. I’ll never understand the appeal. It’s all so... mechanical.”

Expressed loud enough for nearby guests to hear, you elicited a few amused looks.

“You said the same thing about abstract art and now New York and half of Japan want your opinion on it.”

Toji’s laugh is light, effortless like he's done this a thousand times. 

Your banter catches the ear of Hashime, one of KK’s bodyguards, who’s leaning against a railing with an air of casual authority. 

His interest now piqued, he glances between the two. Toji catches Hashime’s eye and offers a polite nod. He returns the nod and steps toward you both.

The pale blue-haired minion seized you up “You’re into art, huh? Never understood it myself. What’s the secret to knowing if something’s worth millions or not?” 

“Everyone’s chasing an enigma. If you can give them a story full of mystery and wonder, more will want it. If you can do that, then you can sell a painting to a blind man.” 

Joining smoothly, Toji wrapped his arm around your waist smiling. “Rare pieces, hard-to-find items, things worth killing for. They have a way of getting it all.”  

“I've heard Mr. KK over there has some of the best pieces to never be seen by the public. What I would give to just catch a glimpse.” Your voice lowered.

“He doesn't just let anyone see the collection.”

Leaning in slightly, you dropped your tone, whispering more intimately. “Of course not. Someone with his... connections... would appreciate only the most discerning eyes.”

Hashime's eyes narrow, his guard raised. You felt the energy shift, but remained calm, letting Toji take the lead from this point. 

“Stay here.” Hashime stepped away, walking towards KK.

Apprehension settled into your gut as you watched KKs dark eyes find you and Toji. Refusing to falter, you smiled and placed your hand on Toji’s abs. “You think this’ll work?”

“Of course it will. We just have to sell him on the most dangerous art deal of his life. He can't say no to what we have.”

A brief moment of calculation crosses his face, and then he stands, straightening his jacket. KK approaches you, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes forming on his lips before he reaches out to take your hand. You obliged as he kissed your knuckles before shaking Toji’s hand. 

  “I tend to know everyone who breathes air in the art world yet neither of you look familiar.” KK smiled, placing his hands back in his pockets. 

  “If everyone knew us, I’d say we were doing awful at our job.”

KK looked over at Hashime and gave an almost girlish laugh as he raised his champagne.

“Hard to find. Good. After the race, let's talk.” He nodded, giving Hashime the go to give you his business card. Mozying back to his seat, you looked down at his card:

  Retrieval Services

Kenjaku

IT/JP/US

[gh0stlyfixation]

I would love a Klaus request for Klaus x fem! Where a witch puts a curse on y/n so that blood can not heal you and you get hurt used as a pawn between the vampires and witches. But Davina is a good friend to y/n so she lifts the curse and Klaus heals you before its too late <3

His Peace

I hope this is what you wanted. It’s short and sweet🤍 I know you said fem but it turns out GN without me realizing it.

Paring: Klaus Mikaelson x GN!reader

Warnings: none? Grammar errors probably

A human living in New Orleans was a bad idea. You moved here under the impression of a safe new environment but then you met Davina, your best friend. She did her best to keep you away from life after explaining the supernatural world but Klaus found out about you, you were his bait.

You didn’t fight much, you stayed quiet most of the time in the room Klaus trapped you in. It was filled with old books that didn’t excite you but it was all you had. You didn’t understand the point of your entrapment as he treated you well, you were just leverage.

“I hope your stay is well,” Klaus said as he opened the door.

You look up at him, “would be better if I had some comfy clothes instead of 3-day-old jeans.” You say with distaste, not bothered by Klaus's presence.

Klaus couldn’t understand you. He walks back out confused by you. You weren’t afraid of him like most people were. Klaus comes back with a pair of sweats and a sweater, “why aren’t you afraid?” He asks.

You look at him, “I’ve seen far darker things than this Niklaus. You’ve treated me better than most men I’ve met in my life.” You tell him then looking at the clothes, “thank you.” You say softly.

“Care to explain further?” He requested.

“Care to let me go home?” You questioned him.

That was four years ago, now Klaus was the love of your life.

Klaus cherished you, you were his saving grace. Since you came into his life, his attitude changed for the better. He stopped the plotting and scheming of witches, wanting nothing more than to have a safe life with you.

But that didn’t mean Klaus didn’t have any more enemies. Unknowingly, witches put a curse on you, not able to heal with the blood of a vampire, then you go missing one day, waking up chained in a cell in the cemetery of New Orleans. “What do you want?” You ask weakly. Unable to move, or breathe. You were slowly dying.

It seems the witches weren’t done with Klaus, using you as a pawn. It sends him into a frenzy, demanding everyone to look for you, Elijah and Davina find you but it’s nearing the end for you. Blood drains from you, you're too weak. Elijah forces the blood in your throat but to no avail, you don’t heal, “why isn’t this working!” Elijah yells.

“It seems they've been cursed, only the act of a black object can loft the curse.” A witch taunts Elijah. Davina looks up, tears pooling in her eyes, and she’s angry.

She kills the witch on the spot. “Take em to my home,” Davina yells. Klaus meets Elijah there, and soon after Davina is there searching her room for her black object, the only one she keeps. She finds it, a small silver dagger.

Klaus holds your limp body, your heart slows by the minute. Davina rips off your necklace and places the dagger over it. She whispers the spell, even Klaus and Elijah can’t hear.

Klaus began to cry, lose tears fall from his face landing onto your face. “It’s done,” Davina says. In an instant, Klaus shoves his bleeding wrist in your mouth. The blood trickled down your throat. Klaus is sobbing.

Davina watching in shock, the love Klaus holds for you is true, she’s always hated him for what he has done, never supporting this relationship but now, she holds nothing but respect for him, watching as he cries for you to come back. She shared a glance with Elijah, he thinks the same.

Slowly, the color returns to your face, and you began coughing violently. Klaus holds you against his chest, patting your back lightly like he would a child. Davina lets out a breath of air, relieved to see you breathing.

Klaus tightly holds onto you, as if you would walk away from him, he never wanted to let you go. “Nik?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

“You're alright love, I’m here, your okay.” He says rocking you back and forth. You cry into his chest holding onto him tightly.

Klaus makes a decision right there that you two are leaving this town, your life is far too precious to be in a place like this. He can’t afford to lose the love of his life. His future, you are his peace.

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Wolfwood x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Yes, this is a repost. Yes, I didn't write this my brain. [ SYNOPSIS ] idk you fuck your best friend's brother. I truly didn't think that hard about any of this. [ WORD COUNT ] like 1k [ CONTENT ] Porn without a stitch of plot, you're besties with your roommate, vaginal sex, "just the tip", he hits it from the back (ayyy), dubcon (drunk sex), alcohol, overstimulation, pet names (girlie, baby), barely edited, and nothing about this is serious like in the least.

You alwaaaaaaaaays thought your best friend’s older brother was cute in a fucked up kind of way. He was tall, legs toned and long, and broad shouldered. His clothes were always disheveled in some way: pants that were too short and revealed his ankles, shirts with several buttons undone that showed off his chest. His black hair was always in a state of perfect disarray. He wore dark sunglasses all the time and chain smoked.

But the biggest appeal was that he was a seminarian. A priest-in-training. You assumed those types were stuffy, good boys that went to bed sober every night.

Nicholas, however, was anything but that. You wouldn’t say he was an alcoholic, but he felt no guilt when it came to imbibing. Anytime he stopped by he brought a bottle of dark rum and made you play drinking games. When your friend would go to bed, you would jokingly confess to a multitude of sins of varying severity.

And you alwaaaaaaaaays wanted something more to happen, but getting caught by your friend deterred you. She already thought her brother was a bit of a loser and she would have judged you endlessly for having poor taste.

She loved him of course; she simply didn’t hold him in high regard. His existence was too contradictory, the juxtaposition too much to reconcile. He was a lout of the first degree, but also was relatively pious and devoted to his studies.

Your friend wanted more for you (not her weird, religious brother). And as long as she was around you could fight off your desires with zero issues.

That’s why you were set up for failure the night he stopped by without warning. Your friend wasn’t home and your fantasy started to feel more tangible. Everything was falling into place; this was the perfect opportunity to indulge in your crush.

You scurried around in search of something slutty yet comfortable to wear which ended up being a pair of booty shorts, a cropped sweatshirt, and absolutely nothing underneath. You knew if you stretched your arms over your head he’d get a tantalizing view of your breasts.

You opened the door and told him that his sister wasn’t home, batting your lashes. He smirked and asked if you were doing anything, his voice like honey, endlessly beguiling. You invited him in.

“You tryna have some fun?” he asked with an impish grin. He held up a bottle of Bacardi.

“Hell yeah. Let me grab some shot glasses.”

You strutted to the kitchen with a little spring in your step. You looked over your shoulder to make sure your guest was following. His eyes were firmly pointed at your ass, noticing how the cheeks poked out from the bottom of your shorts. The swing in your hips successfully hypnotized him, pulling him deeper into your clutches. You were going to make this night count.

He took a seat at the table and watched as you grabbed two glasses from the highest shelf. He smirked as your sweater rode up, revealing the plush underside of your tits. You pretended not to notice.

“Shall we?” you asked, handing him a shot glass.

The two of you took shot after shot, rarely speaking to one another. You didn’t need words. A smoldering glance, a flirty wink, said it all.

“You got a drinkin’ problem, girlie,” Nicholas finally said, pointing at the nearly empty bottle of rum.

“You drank just as much!” you laughed, elbowing him.

“I’m shouldering the weight of God’s words. What’s your excuse?”

“I’m trying to get the courage to fuck a priest-in-training obviously.”

He cocked an eyebrow and genuinely seemed surprised by your bold initiative.

“Nah. My sister’ll kill me… And you too probably.”

“She will never know,” you purred, grabbing a hold of his hands and leading him to your bedroom.

You undressed immediately, tossing your clothes at him. You got on the bed on your hands and knees, and arched your back. You gave him the perfect view of your glistening cunt. You heard Nicholas fiddling with his belt and dropping it on the floor. He positioned himself behind you, rubbing the tip of his cock along your dripping folds.

“I’m only puttin’ the tip in, alright?” he said, flicking his lighter. You immediately smelt the acrid smoke of his cigarette. “I don’t need you fallin’ in love with me.”

He guided his cock into your cunt, stopping halfway, and began to massage your clit with his free hand. The pads of his fingers were soft and warm. 

“I want all of it,” you whined pathetically.

You craned your neck back and pouted at him. His cheeks were pink, jaw clenched. He was a man in trouble, a man weighing his options. He took a drag off his cigarette and put it out in the cup of water sitting on your nightstand.

“Alright. You want my cock that bad, huh?” he asked, playing with your aching clit.

“Yes!”

He sank his cock inside you and he let out the most heavenly moan. It was thick, stretching out your cunt in a euphoric way. His thrusts were fast and deep, with an air of desperation to them. He kept his fingers firmly placed on your clit, furiously rubbing it. It was almost too heavy a burden to bear. You felt like you were going to collapse under the weight of your ardor.

“To—too much,” you choked out.

“Nah. Lemme show what too much really is, baby.”

He pinched your clit between his fingers and you yelped. It was already so sensitive, the pressure he was applying was dizzying. You struggled to hold yourself up and buried your face into your pillow. He was right. This was too much. But you loved it.

Nicholas chuckled and slammed his cock into you. His thrusts were relentless. Each one was punctuated with one of your dreamy moans. You were seeing stars, ascending into the arms of God, or something… you didn’t fucking know. Your brain was leaking out of your ears. And it didn’t matter; it served no purpose. All you needed was his cock throbbing in your slick cunt.

[peaches-creek]

Synopsis: panic attack comfort from konig❤️

You feel your face get hot, a pool of nausea and discomfort rests in your gut. An all too familiar feeling, the precipice of anxiety looms over your head. For something that would seem small to others, is gargantuan to you. You were supposed to go see your friends tonight. You had everything in order. You packed your bag accordingly, with all of the little things that you may or may not need. You were wearing that one perfume that you love and makes you feel a bit more confident. You were even wearing your boyfriend’s sweater, the big fluffy one that makes you feel warm, but not too warm. You did everything. Breathing exercises - check. Name 5 things - check. Meditation - check. If you did everything, why did you still feel so stuck, and small.

You were stuck in this horrible chain of thoughts. Thinking, “what if I say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing” and “what if the see me for how I see myself.” Sometimes it felt like no matter how hard you try it will never get better, that you will never get better. To struggle with this specific disorder is like living with a 300-year old ball and chain wrapped around your ankle, following you around and never feeling any lighter.

You are sitting on your bathroom floor, knees to your chest, stuck in a place that you never like to be in. Without realizing, a person enters the space and crouches before you, as best as he can.

“Why are you on the floor mein maus?” He says. It doesn’t entirely shock you at first. The sight of him makes you melt, though all of your worry didn’t go away, the lessened. The ball and chain got lighter.

As you look into his eyes you see nothing but love, and worry. The look of worry makes you feel even more guilty. In that moment you feel a lot of emotions and thoughts. The thoughts being 1. You are not going to be able to make it out, 2. You have disappointed everyone, and 3. You have disappointed Konig, the person who just spent a half an hour getting ready to accompany you to see your friends. This makes your eyes sting as you bow your head, and begin to cry.

“I can’t-“ you choke out “I can’t go.” You feel so ashamed. You can’t even look at him. You feel him large, warm, and calloused hands rest on your knees.

“Okay, then we will not go, it’s alright.” He moves one of his hands to your jaw, beckoning you gently to look at his face. When your eyes meet you don’t see disappointment. You don’t see regret. You don’t see anger. You see love, adoration, and worry.

“But how will I even tell them we planned this a week ago,” you pause to gather your strength to talk, ”they will be so disappointed in me and they wont want to see me again.”

“That is not true,”he says, “they love you. Tell them it has something to do with me if it makes you feel better, tell them I am ill.”he offers.

“Okay.” You squeak out. However, this quick conversation did calm some of your nerves and gave you a solution, it did not solve and soothe this ache in your chest and shake in your bones. You begin to breathe hard, not fast but hard. The tears that wear once few, turned into many. Everything became too much. He takes notice to this.

Without any words he gathers you in his arms, placing you across his lap with your head in his neck. He begins to shush you, rubbing your back firmly, but gently.

“Breathe my dear,” he mutters, “breathe for me.”

He continues to whisper soft little sweet nothings and praises. The words alone soothe your anxiety like balm to an aching wound. The feeling of his warm body pressed against yours makes you tired, too tired to do anything but close your eyes.

“I’m tired now.” You say.

Without any words, he maneuvers you into his arms, carrying you bridal style into your shared bedroom. He plops you gently onto the edge of the bed. He then shuffles to the other side of the room, opening your dresser and pulling out a fresh pair of pajama pants and his big warm hoodie, one that he knows makes you feel safe. He delicately directs your body out of your old clothes and into the new ones. Finishing it off with a warm hug.

“I will be back.” He says as he finally tucks you under your covers. Without waiting for your answer he quietly moves out of the room. He returns a few minutes later and puts a glass of water beside you on your bedside table.

“I spoke to them, they said we can reschedule for the same time next week. We will try again.” He mumbled as he pressed a chaste kiss to your soft lips.he then walks to his side of the bed, climbs in right behind you and smushes you against his broad chest.

You don’t feel cured, you feel relieved. With him in your corner, things like this feel manageable

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part 11

Next part of the enemies to lovers fic, enjoy!

Tav POV

Content Warning: Parental Death

She came to in Shadowhearts lap. Her body twitched and she inhaled as if she had been holding her breath. 

Tav jolted up, seeing Shadowhearts startled face. “Good evening to you, too.” Tav felt the gentle grip on her shoulder and the cool moss of the Underdark, “How are you feeling?” 

Tav wasn’t sure. She couldn’t find a single word, a single sensation. She felt empty. “I don’t know.” 

“I wasn’t sure if I should stick around, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Tav heard Karlach’s sheepish voice. It struck a nerve, allowing the memory to return. Her emotions remained steadied and Tav furrowed her brow, detecting Shadwoheart’s spell. 

Ah. 

Without the fuss and intensity of anger and grief, Tav was able to wipe the fog and see more clearly. She felt ashamed of herself, knowing she was blinded by pain that wasn’t even Gale’s doing nor Karlach’s. Tav gritted her teeth and groaned. He’d want another apology. 

“No, I’m sorry. I.. it’s my own fault.” Tav brought her knees to her chest and rested her cheek on them. “I didn’t tell you what it was. You weren’t to know.” A heavy sigh shook her and Shadowheart rubbed her back in small circles. It made her feel like a child again and she shut her eyes, a quiet, fat tear falling from them. 

“You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to,” Shadowheart cooed.

Karlach piped in, trying to lift the cloak of somberness: “Or, do.”

Tav opened her eyes and saw Gale by the fire. This time, his body was turned to fully face her. As if he’d been watching, waiting for her to wake. Her eyes trailed up his legs and flicked for a moment where they shouldn’t’ve. A blush spread across her cheeks and rose her eyes. They were met with his. 

In them, before he was able to register that she was awake she saw pain. Shame. And… 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat staring at him. His eyes were like black corridors, and he did not look away. It felt as if she’d been shocked, as if he’d cast chain lightning - a spell far too advanced for either in their current state. 

That was maddening, too, on top of it all. To have been ripped of ability and forced to start anew all because they were on the receiving end of a very unpleasant insertion in the ocular region. 

She started when Shadowheart tapped her lightly to remind her where she was. “Oh gods..” Tav gasped and she watched Gale look away. His face was flushed. She watched as he pulled off his sweater, revealing a very loose, white linen shirt beneath. The orb was more visible, the shirt lower - more open. It made Tav’s breath slow and she felt a rush of blood. “Sorry, you startled me. Um..” she turned her face back to the two and felt her cheeks burn. “It was my father’s. A keepsake. I don’t really talk about him so I wouldn’t expect-“

“Oh hells if I had known!” Karlach exclaimed, distraught. 

“It’s okay!” Tav insisted and stood, brushing herself off. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. And, you were doing a far more noble thing. If it weren’t for you, who knows what might have happened. You did what you thought was best and the ring wouldn’t have brought my father back.” She fingered the amulet on her neck, pushing back the tears that threatened to come. “It’s just a thing.” She murmured the last words, a lesson instilled in her early. The value was in people and beautiful moments with them. Things would always come and go; time with friends was never guaranteed. “I’m sorry. But you’re not the only one I owe an apology to I’m afraid…” Tav shut her eyes and rolled her shoulders back, tilting her neck side to side. She took a deep breath and walked towards the fire. 

*** 

“Come to yell at me some more?” Gale’s words stung and he was hard at work, preparing another meal for the otherwise unhelpful companions. Although Gale did always shoo them away, insisting it was easier to do it himself. Tav was a terrible cook, even with a full kitchen. It was something she admired about him, although she hadn’t told him so. The way Gale made food was like to an artist taking brush to canvas. Even with pitiful rations. “Or to blame me for things outside of my control?” Although his voice was cool there was a playful edge to it and a flutter swept through her. 

Tav knew she had earned his callousness, especially after how she’d treated him. She held so little regard for his condition, how that must have felt to be cast aside while that thing fed on him from the inside out. She shuddered, consumed by the guilt - so blinded by her own ego to see. 

He was knelt over the fire, bringing the stew to a boil and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. Despite the Underdark being a touch cooler than the surface, Gale seemed to be warm. He hadn’t taken off his purple over shirt in their travels thus far so to see him in a more revealing shirt was… a little thrilling. Tav tried to avert her eyes from the way his shirt cut down his chest, exposing the tendrils of the orb and more she cleared her throat, meeting his gaze warily and felt her mouth water.  

“Ah, you’re here for an apology. Twice in less than a ten-day! I don’t know if I should be flattered, concerned, or a little frightened.” Gale’s lips hooked into a crooked grin and he brushed his bottom lip with his thumb, eyeing her curiously. It was as if the world stilled again. This desperate, inexplicable pull she felt towards him would be her undoing. Despite the agitation, the distaste, there was something more potent that stirred between the two. 

“Perhaps all three,” Tav said, biting her lip. “I am.. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” 

“Oh, well,” Gale rose and walked towards her. He towered over her for a moment, the two locked on one another, “I didn’t take it entirely to heart.” The air between them seemed to spark. Tav was unable to look away and as if by divine force took a step closer. “Apology accepted,” Gale said and leaned in a way Tav thought he was about to kiss her but he brought his fingers to her cheek, brushing something away. “Just a bit of dirt. Sorry,” he mumbled and broke the moment, turning from her. 

“It’s a nice night,” Tav said, looking to make amends beyond a simple apology. She sat beside him as he worked. Their knees brushed against each other and she felt her stomach churn and warmth rush through her. 

 “Oh, it’s quite beautiful.” He sighed, a soft smile on his lips, “Nothing like a frequent brushes with danger to make one appreciate the majesty of the celestial canvas.” Gale seemed to press his leg against hers although neither moved. “She preferred it when we were alone, curled up before a crackling hearth with some ancient, esoteric tome between us, ink glinting in the firelight… ” he trailed off and Tav coughed up a laugh. 

“I’m sorry, who? Mystra?” Tav scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

“Gods no! I’m talking about Tara, my Tressyum.” 

“Oh, right,” Tav smirked as the memory unfurled before her, “It was always Tara this, Tara that.” 

“Well, if you knew her perhaps you’d understand why. She’s brilliant. Formidable personality - reminds me of you, really.” Although Gale’s tone was mocking, Tav could sense it was in jest. It felt more playful, more alive. Tav edged closer to him, her arm brushing against his. It felt like the fire of the nine hells coursed through her. 

“Was Tara.. all you had for company? You must have been lonely…” It was a feeling Tav was intimately familiar with herself. After her father passed she was left to make her way through the world alone, with not even a Tressyum for company.  

“After I was afflicted with the orb, I locked myself in my tower for an entire year. I was inconsolable, wallowing in my self-inflicted tragedy. Sometimes it was lonely. But I imposed it upon myself, after all.” Gale gazed at her, his pupils wide in the dim purple light. He looked down at her lips and then away, “I set up enough wards to keep an army at bay, never mind the few colleagues who sought to inquire about my welfare. Tara did her best to keep my spirits up of course, but there’s only so much one tressyum can make up for one’s entire social circle. And she was often gone, seeking items to treat my condition. You’re the first people I’ve spent a significant amount of  time with in a year or more. I realize I may have left behind the greater part of my wit and sensitivity in my tower.” Gale sighed and Tav felt herself ache for him, to comfort him. 

She placed a hand on his upper arm and felt his body tense beneath her touch. It made her want more.  “No one came to visit?”

Gale took a moment to answer before speaking in a murmur, his face so close to hers. She could smell the wine on his breath. It was a little intoxicating and made her dizzy. “No... unfortunately not.” Gale said, standing - as she sat on the log, looking up at him in the firelight she felt her breath quicken. “I won’t continue to pain you with my ineloquent tongue and poor company.” 

“If it’s alright with you, I’d.. I’d like to stay. To watch.” Gale’s eyes flashed for a moment and he shrugged before coming his hand through his hair. 

“Suit yourself. Care to help instead of just watch?” He shot her another crooked grin and it made her feel weak. 

“I… don’t actually know how.” She blushed, ashamed at herself and laughed. 

Gale blanched, “You can’t be serious?” He waited a moment before chuckling, his voice raising a bit teasingly. “Oh, you are serious. Well, hopefully you can gain something by watching my poor excuse for meal preparation with what I have here. The one thing this merry band seems to hate -“ Gale rummaged through his bag, pulling out a few miscellaneous glass bottles. “Spices. Any time I’ve added them I’ve heard nothing but complaints. I say we add some tonight... maybe you have a more subtle touch.” 

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Home Sweet Home AU: Radio Silence

Thatcher becomes obsessed with a case he was assigned, one relating to the disappearances of two local teens. He has no other choice but to dig deeper.

TWs: Body horror, character death implied, blood/gore/injury

Notes: around 14'500 words long! The third volume for Home Sweet Home is here!!! The horrors!!! Anyway hope you enjoy :)

September 21st, 1992. 12:25 PM

“Hello. No one is available to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone.”

BEEP.

“Hello, uh…this is Arthur Heathcliff, and I’m calling to…report a missing person.” A man’s voice spoke through the speaker; a somewhat gravely yet not too deep voice. “My son, uh, Mark. He hasn’t shown up in a week, and…I would like an investigation to be done to…try and…find him. Please answer as soon as possible…me and my wife are just...worried. We just want him to come home. Thank you.”

BEEP.

Thatcher knocked on the front door of the two story home, waiting a second before he spoke loudly, “Mandela County Police Department.” Thatcher was a thin, and tall man, wearing a dark blue police uniform over his body. He had a scruffy, unkempt beard and tired eyes, the dark circles around them contrasting with his pale beige skin. He looked at the door in front of him before he placed his hands on his hips, waiting for an answer at the door as he looked around the yard. The house he looked up at was a pale grey color, with two windows on the top story and a garage to his left. He sighed, brushing away his bleached blond hair before he heard the sound of the door opening in front of him. He let out a forced, soft smile before speaking. “You must be Leah Heathcliff?”

“That’s correct.” In front of Thatcher was a shorter woman with curly brown hair draped over her shoulders. She wore a beige and white striped sweater over a white shirt, along with a long, black skirt. Her green eyes looked up at Thatcher, her brows furrowed and her expression giving away her concern. She rubbed her necklace, which had a blue sapphire hanging from a silver chain. The silence continued before she swallowed hard. “You’re here…to search, aren’t you?”

“We’re just trying to help find your son, ma’am.” Thatcher stated. “A friend of mine is on her way; she’ll help find anything that can clue us in on where he went. Once we’re done we’ll get out of your hair. May I come in?”

“…I’ll go get my husband.” Leah stated. “You can wait in the living room.”

Leah led Thatcher into the home, closing the door behind them before walking into the living room. “Arthur?” She called. “…The police are here.”

Thatcher walked around, sighing deeply as he looked down, thinking to himself before he heard another person enter the room. “About time.” Thatcher heard Arthur speak quietly to Leah. “They were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

Thatcher looked up to see Arthur himself, seeing that he was wearing a black dress shirt with a gold cross necklace resting on his chest. His short, dark brown hair swept to the side, and his brows seemed lower, making his resting expression seem more upset than he actually was, though Thatcher couldn’t tell if it was natural considering the circumstances. He held out his hand towards Thatcher for him to shake. “Arthur. I’m the one who called.”

“Lieutenant Thatcher Davis.” Thatcher shook Arthurs hand before quickly letting go. “Okay, I’m…gonna have to ask some questions about Mark, if you don’t mind.”

Arthur sighed before gesturing towards the couch. “Go ahead.” Thatcher sat down on the couch, watching as Arthur sat on an arm chair to the side of it and Leah sitting next to Thatcher.

“Has Mark ever…snuck out of the house at any point?” Thatcher asked.

“Maybe once or twice…” Arthur recalled. “But he always came back a day or so later. Often went to his friend’s house.”

“And who was his friend?”

“Cesar.” Leah answered as she fidgeted with her hands. “Cesar Torres.”

“He…also went missing recently.” Arthur stated.

Thatcher let out a soft sigh as he scratched his head. “Alright, any…other friends he could have gone to?”

“No.” Leah stated. “…Cesar was…his only friend.”

“I see.” Thatcher stated.

“He’s been…acting strange for over a month.” Arthur stated. “I think the kid got into drugs or something—”

“Arthur!” Leah stated with a tone of surprise, sadness, and horror. “Mark wasn’t an addict, and you know it.”

“Leah…we don’t know; I’m just saying it’s possible.” Arthur responded.

“Don’t listen to him, please,” Leah’s voice almost sounded like she was begging as she turned towards Thatcher. “He was a good young man…he wouldn’t get into that.”

“We won’t blame his behavior on anything unless we get proof for it.” Thatcher assured. “Have you been in contact with Cesar’s parents?”

“I’ve…tried calling Maria, his mother, but…no answer.” Leah stated.

“Mhm.” Thatcher let out a deep sigh as he tried to think. “We’ll have to try and get in contact with the Torres family in that case,” He whispered. “When was the last time you saw your son?”

“At home. He fell asleep on the couch, and…I didn’t want to wake him up.” Leah stated. “He’s…been unable to sleep for so long so…I figured…he needed it.” Leah hunched over, sniffling slightly. “I-I should’ve asked him what was wrong.” She squeaked as her eyes began to water. “Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I just…listened.”

“Leah, we couldn’t have predicted this.” Arthur attempted to assure her as he sat up in his chair. “We don’t know what was going through his head…”

“But we could have.” Leah responded. “But we never asked.”

Thatcher looked at the ground, bouncing its leg softly as it attempted to gather its thoughts, all before it heard a knock at the door behind it. Arthur glanced at the door then back at his wife, brows furrowed further before he stood up to greet the person at the door.

“Y-You’ll…find him…won’t you?”

Thatcher looked back towards Leah, seeing the look of desperation in her watering eyes, the stare making a pit form in its gut. It wished it could guarantee that Mark would return safe and sound, though the thought of lying to a woman who’s gone through enough pain to last a life time wasn’t something it wanted to do. “We’ll…try our best, Mrs. Heathcliff.” It stated softly. “Trust me.”

“Thatcher, I brought everything we need.”

Thatcher turned around after hearing a familiar voice, standing up from his seat. “Alright…then I guess we’ll start the search, Weaver.” Thatcher sighed as he looked at Ruth from across the room.

Ruth was a muscular, tall woman wearing the same uniform her coworker wore, without the black tie around her neck and with her sleeves rolled up. She had almond colored skin, and her dark brown, curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail aside from the bangs covering the right side of her forehead. She had facial hair on her chin, and her arms also had hair on their forearms. She looked at Thatcher, her round eyes still showing energy despite the matter at hand, even as she approached Thatcher holding a few plastic, sealable bags labeled “EVIDENCE” along with plastic gloves. She also had a camera in her hands, which she handed to Thatcher as soon as he was in front of her.

“How much are you going to take?” Arthur questioned as he stared at Thatcher.

“Only what can potentially link to the case.” Thatcher stated. “We won’t take anything we don’t need to. Was there a particular room Mark stayed in most of the time?”

“…His bedroom; upstairs, last door in the hallway.” Leah stated softly.

Leah stood beside Arthur before he hugged her, staring at Thatcher as it turned back towards Ruth. “Could you stay with them as I search the room?” Thatcher asked Ruth quietly.

“Of course.” She responded. “I’ll…try and help them through this the best I can.”

“Thank you.”

Thatcher turned towards the stairway, walking up them as Ruth approached the Heathcliffs, standing up straight as she tried her best to conceal her uncertainty. “Could you two take a seat?” She asked.

“We don’t have much else to say.” Arthur stated.

“I’m not going to ask about the case,” Ruth responded. “We can get to that later on.”

Ruth gestured towards the seats before they all sat down on the couch, Ruth sitting to the side with Leah in between her and Arthur. Leah glanced down at Ruth’s leg noticing something; it was a prosthetic. Below her right knee was a blade prosthetic, with her dress pants leg rolled up above it. Ruth caught her gaze, looking down at her leg before a soft smile appeared on her face. “Oh…Don’t worry about it,” Ruth let out a soft, lighthearted chuckle. “Just…accidents happen, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Leah said quietly. “…I guess they do.”

Ruth’s smile faded when she saw that Leah’s worried expression didn’t disappear, all while Arthur wrapped his arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. Ruth looked at them with a somber look in her eyes as she considered her next words, all while Thatcher made it to the upstairs hallway. He looked down the corridor, walking down it, his shoes clacking against the floorboards until he stopped outside of Mark’s room, taking in a breath before opening the door.

“Can…you tell me about yourselves?” Ruth asked. “What do you do for work?”

“I work at the library downtown…” Leah answered. “…Arthur’s a priest.”

“Really? Where, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“St. Gabriel’s Church.” Arthur stated.

“I see.” Ruth said, trying not to remember what she heard on the broadcasts regarding religious practices. “I’ve worked at the Police department for…years now. Me and Thatcher recently got promoted, actually.”

“Oh…congrats!” A soft smile formed on Leah’s face. “I’m…happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Ruth returned the smile. “Now…how is your job at the library?”

The first thing Thatcher noticed when he looked into the room was the state of disarray it was in. Snack wrappers and dirty clothes littered the floor, and the bed was unmade and messy. A few drawers in the dresser resting next to the wall were cracked open, jammed by lazily shoved in socks and clothes. Thatcher stepped over the garbage the best he could as his eyes grazed around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary aside from the mess.

He looked towards the dresser, seeing something resting on top of it that grabbed his attention; an analog television. He stared at it as he approached it, looking down to see its cord dangling off of the side of the dresser, unplugged. Two objects rested on top of the television, being a camcorder and tape recorder, both of which he gently picked up and placed in two separate evidence bags. He turned around, looking towards the bed until he noticed something wrong with the posters on the wall behind it. One of them seemed crooked and lazily put on, and Thatcher squinted when he saw black markings just barely peeking out from behind it.

“I just…wish I had more time to…you know…spend time with my own children.” Leah continued as Ruth listened carefully. “It’s hard to make money nowadays and…I guess I was too focused on that rather than focusing on the things that matter…”

“We’re…better than we were a few years ago,” Arthur said. “Luckily we were able to avoid selling our belongings just to put food on the table.”

Ruth looked at the ground with a worried look on her face. “I get it, trust me.” She said quietly. “With multiple businesses closing down, it seems like getting a job is becoming harder to do.”

“Definitely.” Arthur sighed. “All I can do is thank God himself for the place we’re in. A safe home, food on the table, two healthy kids; I mean…it’s a miracle.”

Ruth nodded as Leah began to speak. “They’re…so important to me.” She stated, seemingly trying her best not to cry. “I just wish I realized it sooner.”

Thatcher carefully removed the poster from the wall, lowering it before staring at what was behind it with furrowed brows and a look of confusion. It was scribbled drawings on the wall itself, seemingly drawn with a black marker of some kind. It seemed to depict what looked like nerves and veins; organs and eyes. In the middle of the drawing was what seemed like a clock with scribbled wings protruding from it. Thatcher backed away from the drawing, all before he grabbed his camera and pointed it towards the wall, taking a picture with a white flash and a click. He looked at the picture as it developed before he looked back at the drawing, confused as to what it meant or why it was there. As he stared at the strange, organic drawing, something from the hallway stared, watching him as he moved around the bedroom and continued his search, unnoticed by the lieutenant.

“You moved here…how long ago?” Ruth asked.

“Oh…around…16 years ago, if I remember correctly.” Arthur sighed. “Mark was just a year old at that point…moved down here from Yonder.”

“Mandela seemed like a more…quaint place to live at the time.” Leah stated. “Smaller, more…homey, I guess.”

“Yonder’s just…a buncha people who have a lot of money.” Arthur said. “Big houses…but not a lot of character.”

“I get it.” Ruth responded. “I used to live in Werksha myself…” She paused as she considered her next words. “I’ve been considering moving back because…I just…don’t know if this is the right place to raise my daughter.”

“You’re a mother?” Leah asked.

“Yeah; I have a little girl at home.” Ruth smiled. “She started kindergarten earlier this month actually.”

“What’s her name?”

“Amelia.”

Thatcher pushed open the slotted closet doors, looking into the messy storage space to see if anything out of the ordinary was there. He saw more of the same; trash and unfolded clothes on shelves. He sighed, preparing to close the doors before his eyes spotted something underneath a shirt. The corner of what appeared to be a yellow notebook was peeking out from underneath the article of clothing, and when Thatcher pulled it out, he saw “REASSURANCES” written on the cover. He looked at it before opening it, flipping through the pages quickly. It seemed to be a personal journal of some sort, with diary entries taking up most of the pages, with small doodles on each one. He closed it, deciding to look through it later as he grabbed another evidence bag.

Ruth continued to listen to the Heathcliffs until she heard footsteps coming down the stairs, turning to see Thatcher entering the room with a few bags in hand. “I found a notebook, Camcorder, and tape recorder so far,” Thatcher said as Ruth approached it. “I’m going back to search for anything else.”

“Alright.” Ruth stated as she was handed the bags.

Thatcher sighed as he looked over to the Heathcliff’s sitting on the couch in anticipation. “Are you aware of the analog TV in Mark’s bedroom?” Thatcher asked.

“Yes, we are.” Leah answered. “It’s unplugged though.”

“No, no, no you…you need to throw it out, unplugging isn’t enough.” Thatcher stated. “You know how many kids have been going missing lately?”

“…Yes.” Leah said softly.

“Yeah…I’d get rid of it as soon as possible, alright?” Thatcher said before turning back towards the stairway to continue his search. He walked up the stairs, passing by a cracked open door to his left, unknowing of the eye peeking at him from behind it. He walked into Mark’s room once again, sighing deeply before he began to rummage through the dresser’s drawers.

Ruth sighed, gently placing the bags on a table before she turned towards the Heathcliffs, who were still sitting on the couch. The look of pure worry and sadness in Leah’s eyes especially made her gut churn, though she wasn’t sure of how to lighten the mood without it feeling mean-spirited. She leaned against a chair, holding herself up with her arms as she thought to herself, hearing the sound of Thatcher’s footsteps overhead.

After finding nothing but more clothes, Thatcher shut the last dresser drawer, moving back towards the bed before lowering himself to his knees, leaning over to look underneath it; nothing, once again. Thatcher thought to himself as he stood up, walking over to the nightstand as he hoped that the little things he found in there would help find the missing teen. He pulled open the drawer, seeing loose papers covering the junk in there, also seeing a sketchbook resting on top. He pulled it out, looking at it for a moment before placing it on the bed next to him. He went back to rustling through the drawer before he paused. He saw something angular and made of metal, with it being a dark grey color. It seemed purposefully buried underneath everything else, and when Thatcher moved everything out of the way he froze, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the object in full.

“Ruth?” Ruth’s radio went off, Thatcher’s voice surprising her slightly before she held it up to her mouth.

“Did you find anything?”

“Come upstairs.”

“…Is something wrong?” Ruth glanced over towards the Heathcliffs, seeing them staring at her with a tinge of confusion and fear in their eyes.

“No, just…I need you to come up and…see something.”

Ruth lowered her radio, pinning it to her chest before quickly walking up the stairs. She stormed down the hallway, seeing Thatcher with his back facing her, seemingly holding something. “What’s going on, you alright?”

“…Ruth, did either of the parents mention owning a firearm?”

“…No?”

Thatcher turned around, revealing what he was holding; a semi-automatic pistol. Ruth stared at it with confusion and concern before looking up at Thatcher’s darkened expression. “Desert Eagle. Mark one.” He stated in a low, quiet voice. “50 caliber.”

“Oh…God, how did someone Mark’s age find a firearm of that power?” Ruth questioned softly.

“I don’t know.” Thatcher responded, carefully placing the firearm in a bag. “I suppose we’ll have to ask around…see if anyone in the family owns one.”

“Does it appear used?”

“Thankfully…no.” Thatcher stated. “Safety’s on…though…it was loaded.”

“Oh God.” Ruth felt a pit form in her gut, lightly holding a hand over her mouth as she thought.

“We’ll have to find out if it’s registered or not and who it was sold by.” Thatcher said. “Maybe then we’ll get an idea of how…Mark…got it.” Thatcher’s voice lowered before he suddenly went silent, looking towards the hallway with an intense, yet troubled gaze. Ruth turned to see what he was looking at before seeing someone standing in the doorway, staring at them.

A young girl, no older than six.

She had long, brown hair, and wore an oversized, faded shirt over her body, along with pajama pants printed with characters from a cartoon. She was holding a blue stuffed bunny in her arms, holding it close to her chest. She stared up at the officers standing in her brother’s room, her expression blank as she remained still, as if not moving meant that she was invisible to them.

Thatcher looked towards Ruth, seeing that she was staring at the child with a look of somberness in her eyes. “…Why don’t I go downstairs and…talk to the parents.” Thatcher stated quietly.

“…Alright.” Ruth responded very quietly as Thatcher quietly left the room, looking down to see the girl staring at him with a distrustful look as he passed by. Ruth carefully approached the child, crouching down before clearing her throat.

“Hey!” She said in a soft voice. “My name’s Ruth, I’m here to help you out. What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t answer right away, instead looking at the ground and hugging the toy in her arms tighter. Ruth looked at the toy, seeing its button eyes and red bowtie before letting out a smile. “What’s his name?” She pointed at the bunny.

The girl looked down at the toy before looking back up at Ruth’s face. “…Mr. Bon.” The girl stated quietly.

Ruth smiled. “That’s a wonderful name.”

“…Where’s Mark?” The girl asked quietly, with her voice seeming more like a squeak.

Ruth’s smile faded as she glanced away, thinking of an answer. “…That’s what we’re trying to find out.” Ruth responded. “We’re here to help, both me and my friend you just saw. It and I are looking for him.”

“…I want my mom.”

Ruth nodded, standing up and holding out a hand towards the girl. “She’s just downstairs; I can take you to her.” She said softly.

“…Okay.” The girl lightly held Ruth’s hand as they walked down the hallway, all while Thatcher paced back and forth downstairs.

“I-I have a pistol in my office, but it’s locked away.” Arthur stated, staring at Thatcher with a dark expression.

“Does anyone in your family own a Desert Eagle?” Thatcher asked.

“No, not that I know of.” Arthur responded. “I mean…his grandfather’s a hunter but…he didn’t own any guns aside from a hunting rifle or two.”

Leah looked over towards the stairway, seeing Ruth walking down into the living room, lightly holding the girl’s hand as they entered the room.

“Sarah!” Leah said, holding out her arms as Sarah ran to her, embracing her the second she was close to her. Thatcher looked at Leah and Sarah before looking back at Arthur.

“…Throw out that TV.”

“What?”

“The TV in Mark’s room is a hazard,” Thatcher stated with a stern tone in his voice. “Especially with a small child in this house.”

“…I don’t think it’s a problem—”

“Yes it is.” Thatcher responded. “There’s a very serious threat going around; children around your daughter’s age are at risk, almost more so than adults.”

“Look, I get it…fear tactics.” Arthur stated.

“…What?”

“You want us to be scared cause of ‘alternates’.” Arthur’s voice seemed accusatory, as if he had something against Thatcher specifically. “My kid will be just fine, and once Mark comes back, I’m sure things will go back to normal around here.”

“…You don’t believe in alternates?” Thatcher questioned out of disbelief.

“Not the way you want me too.” Arthur stated. “I pray every night for protection, and it hasn’t failed yet, and if alternates are as dangerous as the government says they are, then don’t you think something would have happened by now?”

“Mark.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Mark is still missing.” Thatcher reminded, trying his hardest to keep his words professional. “I believe you can call that something happening, don’t you think?”

“His disappearance has nothing to do with alternates.” Arthur claimed. “He’s just…unwell. He needs help…not more paranoia to add to his already poor mental state.”

“Would telling you that the possession of analog technology is a crime change your mind?” Thatcher stated, barely cloaking his pure annoyance.

“…What, you’ll arrest me for having a TV?”

Thatcher’s brows furrowed, staring at Arthur’s face with an intense glare.

“God reigns, Davis.” Arthur said. “And even if alternates really did exist…they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Thatcher paused, maintaining eye contact with the priest. “…I wish I had your ignorance.”

Arthur’s glare turned into an almost appalled expression as Ruth approached them, tapping Thatcher on the shoulder. “It’s time to head out.” Ruth said quietly as Thatcher turned around.

“…Alright.” Thatcher sighed. He glared back at Arthur, him staring back with a tinge of revulsion in his gaze. Thatcher passed by Leah and Sarah, the latter of which looking up at him as he walked by. Ruth followed, though hesitated, stopping in the middle of the room, even as Thatcher made his way to the front door. She looked back, seeing Leah and Sarah’s eyes staring at her, all before she sighed and dug out a notepad from her pocket.

“Mrs. Heathcliff?”

“Yes?” Leah watched as Ruth quickly wrote down something.

“From one mother to another.” Ruth handed her a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “If you need anything or…just want to talk…call me, alright?”

Leah stared at the phone number for a second before looking back up at Ruth’s friendly face.

“…Th…thank you, officer.”

“You can skip the formalities,” Ruth smiled. “Just call me Ruth if you want to.”

“…Thank you, Ruth.”

Ruth stood up, taking one look at Arthur’s sour expression and shooting him a glare, all before turning back and leaving, shutting the front door behind her. Silence fell, Leah holding Sarah close as Sarah hugged both her mother and her toy, staring at the door with a blank expression. Maybe Mark just went on a walk into the woods again and got lost; she remembered he liked to do that during the night. She just hoped he’d find his way back soon.

September 22nd, 3:47 PM

Thatcher sat at his desk, staring at the closed orange folder in front of him, his tired eyes grazing over it as he tried to shake off his ever present exhaustion. He glanced over to his left, seeing a couple VHS tapes stacked neatly next to a small television, which was resting on a small table to the side of the desk. There was also a notebook, along with the tape recorder he had recovered the previous day resting on his desk. He thought of how lucky he was that they were in good condition, considering the time crunch and the fact that he’d rather not bother Dave again to fix them in such a short time frame. He rubbed his eyes, planting his elbows on the desk as he sighed, opening the orange folder to see what he was dealing with.

“MARK HEATHCLIFF

AGE: 17

SEX: MALE

ETHNICITY: CAUCASIAN

EYES: GREEN

HAIR: BROWN”

Thatcher read over Mark’s file, eyes glancing over the paragraphs of information known about him. Words typed out on the page about his diagnoses, his academic history, and even previous incidents and injuries he might’ve had. It was all very detailed, yet as Thatcher grazed over the page, he saw nothing much of use that related to the case aside from what he had already heard the previous day. He sighed, shutting the file before sliding it to the side, instead choosing to focus on the tape recorder, staring at it before gently grasping one of the cassettes, one labeled “Insomnia” and placing it into the player, it clicking shut before he pressed play.

It was silence for a few moments, with only the sound of faint, shaky breathing being heard underneath the static. Thatcher waited for something to happen, wondering if it was a blank cassette before he finally heard a voice; Mark’s voice.

“…Ninety years without slumbering,” Mark tiredly sung, his voice raspy as if he hadn’t used it in a while. “Tick, tock, tick, tock. His…l…life seconds numbering, tick, tock, tick, tock. Then the clock…stopped…never to go again, when the old…man…died.”

Silence fell once again for a little while.

“Fuck…Just…let me fucking sleep.” Mark’s voice sounded muffled, as if he was holding his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know how long I can count sheep before I go insane.”

Thatcher sat back in his seat as he once again listened to the gap of silence, staring intently at the tape recorder before Mark spoke once again.

“…I don’t know what to do.” Mark stated. “…I feel…uncomfortable in my own skin. I don’t…I don…feel…safe.”

Silence once again; longer than the last gap.

“I haven’t slept in a couple days now.” Mark mumbled. “Every time I try, I…have those…fucking nightmares. I don’t…kn…know if I…really do want to sleep…all because of them.”

Another pause.

“…Then th…st…stopped…never to go again when…the old…man…God fucking help me.”

The cassette stopped, leaving Thatcher with a sense of confusion before he ejected it and placed it on the desk, all before grasping the next one, a cassette labeled nothing at all, and placing it inside of the recorder, hesitating before pressing play.

Silence, though he could hear something that sounded somewhat far away; muffled, harsh breathing. It sounded as if someone was hitting something repeatedly, or someone hitting their own head.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up,” Was heard over and over, Mark’s voice sounding distressed, like he was sobbing. Thatcher listened intently as Mark continued. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT THE FUCK UP, JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!” Mark took in a shaky breath, sobbing more before shouting, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEA—”

The tape stopped abruptly, with Thatcher staring at it with furrowed brows and his hands folded in front of him, his fingers clasping his own hands before he ejected the cassette. Thatcher sat still for a moment as it processed what it heard, all before its eyes fixated on the next piece of evidence; the notebook. A part of it dreaded reading through its pages for a reason it didn’t know as it picked it up, looking at its cover first and reading what was written on it.

“Reassurances

God bless all!”

Thatcher flipped open the notebook, and saw just that; reassurances. It appeared to be small prayers, with a new one on each page. However, around halfway through the notebook, he paused, seeing a drawing on one of the pages, with it being completely blank aside from it. It was a messily drawn picture of two eyes in the middle of the lined page, their gaze looking oddly crazed. Thatcher flipped the page, and found that the next entry wasn’t a prayer or reassurance of any kind, rather being a journal entry.

“9/02/1992

He’s been ignoring me again.

He’s been doing this for over a month now, acting like whatever I’m saying doesn’t matter. I’m tired of him turning a blind eye to what I’m seeing. He has to hear the breathing too, right? Why would he just brush be aside like this? I am his friend right? Sooner or later, he’s going to have to open his eyes to this. Else it’ll bite him later.”

Thatcher looked towards the bottom of the page, seeing a drawing of what appeared to be a House, with more writing below it, reading: “I keep going back and I don’t even know why. It calls me by name, Cesar.”

Thatcher stared at the picture of the House, his eyes fixated on it before he shook his head and flipped the page, seeing yet another journal entry, this time dated “9/05/1992��.

“I heard my parents talking downstairs today. Dad is suggesting that I’m not ‘faithful enough’. Says how I need to pray more and maybe I’ll feel better. My mom said I just need more time with my therapist, as if he’s helping me any. They think I’m crazy, don’t they. I was already put on multiple different anti-anxiety and depression meds, and they don’t work. They don’t know what I’m actually going through. And I don’t know if I want to tell them.

If this is how they act when they’re clueless, I dread to know what they’d say if they knew.”

The drawing on the page was of a pill bottle. The label was mostly gibberish, with the only recognizable word being “lies” written in bold letters.

Thatcher felt the pit in his gut only growing heavier with every page, flipping it before reaching a journal entry without a drawing. It appeared to be from a few days after the last, seemingly sloppily written, like Mark had just woken up when he wrote it:

“09/8/1992

I had a dream tonight.

I was at the House, yelling at Cesar for a reason I can’t remember. He was so angry at me. I felt a deep hatred towards him, more than I’ve ever felt towards anything. I don’t even remember what was being said, or what had caused us both to be so mad. I remember looking past him and seeing It looking at me.

I feel sick recalling the sound and feeling of his neck cracking under my hands. The rest is fuzzy, and all I remember was that I threw him to the ground in less than a second. His horror filled eyes still haunt me. I remember looking down at his body propped up against the clock, and then I woke up.

I don’t know what this means. I’m not a killer. I wouldn’t do that. Would I?”

A short sentence below it, written in neater handwriting read: “Thinking about it now. I don’t recall who the body actually belonged to.”

Thatcher flipped the page, looking down at the noticeably worse handwriting in the next entry before he read it.

“09/10/1992

I’ve lost another one.

I’ve never seen him that furious. He acted as if I was the worst person he ever met. The nightmares haven’t ended, the halls still calling my name. I can taste iron, though I don’t think its my own blood. My right eye feels like it had been pulled out of socket and shoved back in. Everything feels so alien now, even though nothing has changed. I hate these rooms, the scent of blood still stinging my nose. I feel homesick laying in my own bed.”

The drawings on the bottom of the page were scribbled and hastily done, depicting spirals and what appeared to be some kind of grandfather clock. Thatcher stared at the clock before focusing on the last drawing, one depicting a young man sitting up in bed, staring at something with wide eyes. A simple statement was written below it, reading: “He looked at me like I was not me.”

Thatcher paused, processing the previous entry before he reached for the next page, his hands feeling strangely cold as he flipped the page, being greeted to what was only an empty page. He turned the page, seeing yet another empty page, then another, and another. He sped through the pages, all before reaching one last entry. Thatcher flipped the page only to see black scribbled letters covering the entire page. Dried splotches of red stained the paper, seeping into the pages after it. The writing only said one thing, repeated over and over like a skipping record:

“THE BELLS TOLL FOR ME.”

The chaos of the repeated text continued with every single page until he reached the final one, being nearly completely blank aside from a drawing of a clock, and one last message: “I’m running out of time.” Thatcher shook his head, shutting the notebook shut before thinking hard. He sighed, holding his hands over his mouth with his elbows on the desk. He couldn’t help but begin to connect the dots; the date of the entry was the same date as Cesar Torres’s disappearance. Mark was clearly falling off the deep end at that point, and appeared to have been increasingly angry with Cesar, so what if…he…

 “…Jesus.” He muttered under his breath. “…N…No, that…it can’t be right, that doesn’t make any sense—”

Before Thatcher could make anything of what he just read, a knock rang on his office door, Thatcher yelling “come in” before someone walked into the room. It was Ruth, having a look of concern plastered on her face.

“What is it?” Thatcher asked as he rubbed his eyes again.

“Leah Heathcliff’s here for her questioning.” Ruth answered.

“…Ah.” Thatcher coughed, standing up, taking a glance at the VHS tapes before deciding he’d look at them later. He grabbed the notebook and the orange folder, all before approaching Ruth, looking at her face, his brow twitching slightly. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Ruth said. “Though I suppose you should get going.”

“Okay…alright.” Thatcher brushed past Ruth, leaving her in the doorway as she sighed, looking at the ground before turning towards Thatcher’s desk. It was a complete mess, with documents strewn across it and other pieces of evidence placed on it. She couldn’t help but notice that the chair Thatcher had been using was still the same worn, on the verge of breaking office chair he refused to replace. Ruth sighed, closing the door to the office as she silently reminded herself to talk to Thatcher about keeping a clean workspace.

September 24th, 1992. 7:24 AM

“It was dark out. I couldn’t really see that well in front of me as I stumbled through the woods. I could barely stand up straight, as if my legs were trying to work against me. I was breathing hard, my breath clouding the air in front of me as I continued to walk. I didn’t know my destination, or at least I don’t remember it, but I knew I needed to get there.

Then I saw a house. One that looked familiar. I stopped for a second, staring at a window on one of the outer walls before I began to approach it. I stood in front of the window, placing my hands on the window frame, but when I looked down at them, I saw they weren’t mine. They were a pale grey, with two elongated fingers with broken, long fingernails at the end of them like claws. I looked inside, through the glass before I saw something. It was a bedroom, and on the bed was a sleeping man.

It was me. Sleeping on the bed without a clue. I opened the window, slowly crawling through until I was looming over myself, staring down at my own unconscious body. I was smiling, but it almost hurt to do so. I continued to stare at myself barely moving, still asleep even as I grew closer, saliva dripping from my mouth onto the sheets.

Then I woke up.

The window was locked when I checked it. Though I saw mist on the outside of it, as if someone was breathing on it. Something tells me I was very lucky last night. I’m not telling Ruth about this one. She already worries about me enough. I know now that I’m going to be checking every window before I sleep. I don’t want to know what would’ve happened if I forgot.”

Thatcher closed the notebook before sighing, leaning over towards the nightstand beside his bed before throwing it into one of the drawers. He sighed, grasping the bed sheets under him as he stared at the beige carpet below him. He looked forward from where he sat, seeing the window leading outside, the sun beginning to rise, allowing him to see the small patch of trees outside of his house. It felt a pit forming in its gut as it looked, all before shaking its head and standing up, deciding it needed to get dressed and start its day.

Thatcher stood by his kitchen counter, leaning against it with a cup of coffee in one hand, with his other crossed over his chest. He wore a lazily put on, faded graphic T-shirt, which was a couple sizes too big for him. With his less than professional appearance came worn out jeans, a pair of sneakers, and an overall haggard expression on his face, only complimented by his equally unkempt hair. He stared blankly into his living room, seeing that it too was a mess, with the coffee table being covered in documents and papers, and having no room to actually use it to put coffee cups on. He sighed, placing his cup on the counter before looking towards a landline phone on the wall, walking towards it, dialing a few numbers, and holding the phone up to his head as he waited for a response.

A few moments passed as Thatcher waited, leaning against the wall as he sighed, pushing his free hand into his jean pocket before he finally heard a voice on the line.

“This is Dave from MandelaTECH, how may I help you?”

“Dave, hey, it’s…it’s me.” Thatcher sighed, his voice especially gravely from just waking up.

“Thatcher! How’s it going? We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“It’s…yeah, it’s alright, I guess.” Thatcher stated. “How are you? You feeling better?”

“Ah, I’m…managing.” Dave said with a lighthearted chuckle. “Definitely better than I was. No longer…using that rickety old wooden cane that they gave me. Got a new one; one that’s…less hard on me.”

“That’s…good.” Thatcher said. “Good to hear it.”

“…You alright?” Dave asked. “You sound like you’ve…been through it.”

“I’m fine, alright? Just…” Thatcher paused for a second. “You…hear anything last night?”

“…No?”

“Any…weird…feelings, or did you see anything odd or out of place?”

“No. Can I ask why you’re asking me this?”

“Just wondering.” Thatcher lied. “Just…things have been weird, alright? Was wanting to check in and make sure you’re doing alright anyway.”

“I appreciate that, but…you do know you have to take care of yourself too, right?”

Thatcher paused, looking at the ground for a few seconds. “…You kept your windows and doors locked, right?”

“Yes.” Dave answered. “Thatcher…you…sure you’re alright?”

No.

“Yeah.” Thatcher reassured. “Just a weird…dream I guess. Whatever, I’ll probably talk to you later. I have a couple tapes I need restored for the police department anyway.”

“Alrighty, just…remember to actually take a break.” Dave stated. “It’s your day off, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Supposed to be.”

“Well, call me if you need anything, I’ll be happy to help out.”

“Thanks. See you later. Bye.” Thatcher hung up the phone, placing it back on its hook before sighing deeply, looking up and shutting his eyes for a second. He looked up at the ceiling, hearing nothing more than the sound of cars outside, the faint ticking of the circular clock on the wall, and his own thoughts running through his head. He shook his head, walking towards the couch and grabbing a jacket that was draped across it before pulling it over his arms and walking towards the front door, deciding to go walk around town. Maybe it would get his mind off of things.

Thatcher walked down the sidewalk as the sun rose in the sky, smoke billowing out of the cigarette in his hand. He glanced towards the road, seeing some cars pass by, though not very many people were out on the streets at that point. As he walked further into town however, there were more people seen, though the groups of people he remembered seeing gathering around certain hang out spots a few years back were now more scarce, with people no longer staying in one spot for a while. Did Thatcher blame them? No. It understood why people spoke in hushed tones and stuck together, only doing what they needed to get done before going back into the safety of their home. If Thatcher could, he’d do the same. There’s a comfort in locked doors and covered windows when the outside is full of things that stalk the meek.

Downtown had a haze of uncertainty to it; emptier than usual. The recent broadcast was doing its job, Thatcher supposed, judging by the dumpsters full of old, broken TVs, closed businesses, and people refusing to make eye contact with each other. It felt odd, though Thatcher couldn’t remember the last time Mandela felt more comfortable than not. He wasn’t even sure if it ever had that feeling of hominess. Mandela’s color had been draining for a long time, and he wasn’t sure if he ever noticed it. Seeing how the town was slowly becoming less welcome to its residents made a pit form in his gut. So much for “getting his mind off things.”

Thatcher passed by a few local businesses and stores, some urban homes, and more empty parking lots as he walked, feeling his joints getting sore as he went further. His cigarette was close to snuffed out, Thatcher pausing before flicking it to the ground, stomping it with his foot and pressing it into the concrete. He sighed, looking around before his eyes spotted something on the other side of the road; the park. A large patch of grass with a few trees, gazebos, and a small playground for children to play. To his surprise, there were people there, being parents keeping a close eye on their kids as they went down the slides and sat on the swings. However, he stopped when he spotted someone sitting at one of the benches, looking over her own kid. Ruth.

Thatcher glanced down the road despite knowing no one was coming before jogging across the road, slowing down when he reached the other side before stepping onto the grass, walking through the metal archway leading into the park. It approached the playground, seeing Ruth was fiddling with her prosthetic, presumably because something was loose or out of place in it. Thatcher sighed, silently walking towards the bench and sitting next to her. She glanced up, double-taking before looking at Thatcher, letting out a breath.

“Hey, I…didn’t expect you to be here.” She said as she sat up.

“I didn’t either.” Thatcher stated. “Just figured I’d say hi.”

“Well…hi.” Ruth smiled, crossing her leg and looking at her prosthetic. “…It got loose when I was running around with Amelia. Almost fell off.”

“Hmm.” Thatcher looked around, his tired eyes observing the children playing and the parents joining in with them. It was sweet, though he still couldn’t shake the pressure he felt in his chest.

“…Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Thatcher answered as if it was second nature to him. “Just…things have been on my mind lately, that’s all.”

“Do you want…to talk about it?” Ruth asked.

“It’s nothing, just…thinking about what Leah said.”

“Thatcher…”

“It just doesn’t make any sense, why would a normal kid like Mark just…break all of a sudden?” Thatcher continued.

“Mommy!”

Ruth looked up to see one of the children on the playground approaching her, walking towards her before grasping the sleeve of Ruth’s jacket; Amelia. “What is it honey?” Ruth asked. Amelia simply pointed towards a bag that was resting next to Ruth, and despite nothing being said, Ruth understood, grabbing something from it. It was a small bag of what appeared to be some kind of snack, which Ruth gave to Amelia before she began to run back to the rest of the kids.

“Be careful, don’t go too far.” Ruth warned before softly sighing.

“Do you think what Arthur said has something to do with it?” Thatcher asked as Ruth looked back towards him. “Maybe he said something that caused Mark to run off—”

“Thatcher.” Ruth interrupted. “I’m sorry, but…you’re not really using your day off wisely.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re stressing yourself out about the case all the time.” Ruth said as she strapped her prosthetic on properly. “I understand, it’s something…I really wish didn’t happen, but you have to understand that worrying about it all day everyday isn’t going to help.”

“Ruth, I just need a lead.” Thatcher said. “What if we find something tomorrow at the Torres house? We could possibly solve what happened to Mark…and Cesar.”

“We’ll have to wait and see—” Ruth flinched when she started to hear crying, turning to see Amelia on the ground with a scraped knee. She quickly stood up, leaving Thatcher behind as she went to go tend to her. Thatcher watched with mild concern as Ruth looked at the minor scratches as he sat in silence, sighing as he tried to think. He had to stress about a case he was working on, otherwise nothing would get done. He had to be close to figuring out something, right? He was snapped out of his thoughts when Ruth approached him again, this time holding her daughters hand. “We’re going home, Thatcher. If you want to talk later, I’ll be there, just call.”

“…I see.” Thatcher watched as they walked away, once again leaving him alone as he wondered. Maybe Ruth had a point; maybe he should go home and try and relax for once.

11 PM

Thatcher had been staring at the files on his desk for the past hour without anything new coming to mind. A few cigarette butts were already in the ashtray as he extinguished the one in his hand in it, all while he stared at the papers with a blank look in his eyes. He scribbled something onto a blank piece of paper, the graphite of the pencil scratching against it until an image came together. Thatcher paused, looking at the drawing, one that depicted the face of a humanoid…thing, one with an elongated “snout” and a far too wide smile. He sighed, placing his pencil on the desk before grabbing the paper and standing up, turning towards the wall and pinning it to a corkboard, allowing it to join the countless photos, journal entries, notes, and drawings that already littered it, making the corkboard itself barely visible from under it.

Thatcher stared at the board, crossing his arms as his dull eyes grazed over everything on it, his brain working overtime to compute it all. Mark Heathcliff, Cesar Torres, Dave Lee, Ruth Weaver; all people who had experienced oddities in the past few months alone, with even Thatcher itself not being exempt. The pale, inhuman face of the alternate he drew had been one he saw not too long ago, and one that he couldn’t shake off. It looked so vaguely familiar, though morphed and deformed to the point that it was barely on the precipice of recognition. Thatcher hated that some parts of its face were features he shared, albeit heavily distorted. Animalistic, and not even trying to act human. Was it even an alternate at all?

Thatcher blinked, rubbing his eyes when the wave of exhaustion he had been pushing back finally hit him. He looked back towards his messy desk and the corkboard, all before turning back and shutting the light off, closing the door shut behind him as he headed towards his bedroom. He stepped into the room, shutting and locking his bedroom door as he stared at the window on the opposite wall. He stared at it, feeling a strange discomfort before he checked it was locked and shut the curtains. He got into bed, sighing deeply as he lazily pulled the covers over him, staring into the dark as he laid on his side, all before closing his eyes and attempting to get some sleep.

??:?? AM

Thatcher was awoken by the sound of a distant window breaking. His eyes flicked open, staring forward to see that the window in his room was still concealed by the curtain, and still intact judging by the lack of wind coming from it. Thatcher wanted to grab his gun and investigate the noise, though despite how much he tried, his arms remained still. He couldn’t even speak or move anything aside from his eyes, which darted around the small part of the room he could see from his limited view. His breathing quickened slightly, realizing he was paralyzed.

Thatcher could hear something bumping around in the hallway outside of his bedroom, pushing aside furniture and stepping towards the door. Thatcher couldn’t do anything, hearing the footsteps grow silent as he tried not to hyperventilate. He attempted to move, only being able to slightly shift in place, still unable to move anything a meaningful amount. He stared forward, blinking when he heard knocks ring out from his bedroom door behind him. He heard the knocks pause, then come back, even harder that time, all before they ceased. Thatcher heard the door creak, opening despite him locking the door before he slept. He still couldn’t move aside from shaking slightly, hearing something behind him, creeping towards his bed. He couldn’t see it, or hear anything coming from it until he felt warm air hit the nape of his neck. His chest heaved, feeling a deathly cold hand be placed on his shoulder before he could finally move.

Thatcher shot up out of bed, swinging around to see what it was, only to find nothing at all. The door was shut, and nothing else was in the room with him. His breath was heavy as he glanced towards his pillow, reaching under it to grab a pistol before he walked towards his door, throwing it open before pointing the gun into the hallway. He flicked on the light, seeing that it was completely intact, with nothing out of place. He paused, hesitating before lowering his gun, looking at the ground and placing one of his clammy hands on his head. Something about his house felt claustrophobic all of a sudden; was it always that cold?

2:27 AM

Ruth was awoken by the sound of a knock at the front door. She slowly sat up, looking around her room before she heard the knocks ring out yet again, sighing as she turned on her bedside lamp and reached towards her prosthetic. Thatcher knocked on the door for a third time, his body covered by a quickly thrown on, somewhat oversized grey trench coat. He remained silent, preparing to knock again until the door swung open to reveal a tired, somewhat annoyed Ruth Weaver, who was still in her pajamas, being a black tank top and sweatpants.

“Ruth.” Thatcher said quietly.

“…It’s two in the morning.” Ruth stated, blinking sleepily. “What are you doing here?”

“I just…I wanted to talk.”

“About what? What is so important that it can’t wait until morning?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” Thatcher said. “I won’t be long.”

Ruth paused, staring at him before shaking her head slightly. “Be quiet; Amelia’s in bed and she has school tomorrow.”

Following Ruth into the house, Thatcher closed the door behind him, walking into the dimly lit living room before sitting on the couch, with Ruth sitting in a chair across from him. Thatcher remained silent for a moment, staring at nothing in particular before Ruth spoke up.

“Organizing files or something?” Ruth asked. “Or are you just staying up late worrying about the case again?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m…it’s fine.” Thatcher stated, despite not fully believing the statement. “I wasn’t wanting to talk…about just the case with you anyway.”

“Do tell.” Ruth glared at Thatcher, wishing she could go back to bed, but refusing to due to the feeling of worry for her friend.

“Everything happening lately…it feels…connected.” Thatcher said. “Ever since the report at the…Murray household, it seems like everything’s been…off.”

“Really?” Ruth asked. “How do you think it’s all connected?”

Thatcher stayed silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “That alternate. You know the one that attacked Dave a little while back?”

“Yeah, I heard about it, though…I don’t really see what you’re getting at.”

Thatcher paused before speaking again. “I think it’s the same one from the Murray house.”

“…How can you be sure?” Ruth asked.

“I can’t.” Thatcher responded. “But the way it…stared into me. The look in its eyes…it was the same.”

“I don’t know…maybe.” Ruth spoke with a tinge of uncertainty. “But didn’t you say it looked…different?”

“It did.” Thatcher stated. “But that’s what’s getting me; it’s wrong. More so than it was.”

“Thatcher, are you sure?” Ruth asked. “It could be a different one entirely. I mean…why would it do something like that to itself?”

“I don’t think it did.”

Thatcher and Ruth became silent, Thatcher hunched over with his hands clasped together and his elbows resting on his knees, all while one of his legs bounced up and down. He took in a deep breath before speaking again. “Ruth?”

“Yes?”

“I came here to apologize.” Thatcher looked up to see Ruth looking at him with a fraction of confusion. “That’s what this is really about.”

“For what?”

“For…everything.” Thatcher looked down again, his hair draping over his face. “For…what happened back at that fucking house.”

Ruth sat up from her relaxed position as her brows furrowed slightly.

“If I…if…if I kept an eye on you…if I kept you safe…” Thatcher’s voice shook slightly. “You’d still have both legs.”

Ruth felt her heart sink slightly at that statement, thinking hard as Thatcher continued.

“I didn’t…protect you, I didn’t look after you like a fucking friend should.” Thatcher said. “You got attacked cause I was a fucking idiot and didn’t pay attention—”

“Thatcher—”

“No, listen, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you; for the one fucking person in my life that is there for me—”

“Thatcher.” Ruth said, standing up and approaching the couch before sitting next to her friend. “If you truly weren’t there for me…I’d be dead.”

Thatcher looked up at her face, seeing that she still had a friendly look in her eyes.

“You couldn’t have predicted any of that; I mean…I barely saw it coming myself.” Ruth continued. “If you didn’t come running in to scare it off, or help me get to the hospital…I would’ve lost more than a leg.”

 “…I’m sorry.” Thatcher said under his breath, his throat tight. “I’m just…sorry I can’t…be the man this town needs me to be. E-Every time I go into that fucking station, I see more and more missing persons reports, more bodies found, more altercations, more shit that is only getting worse. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t fucking show it cause if I do?” Thatcher paused, trying to hold back its tears. “…I’ll be painted as nothing but a fucking coward…and that’s not what this town needs right now. It needs someone it can count on…and…I’m not that person.”

Ruth remained silent, thinking hard before she wrapped her arm around Thatcher, lightly side-hugging him. Thatcher appeared surprised at the gesture, though after a few moments, he hunched over, covered his face with his hands, and cried.

September 25th, 1992. 5:45 PM

Thatcher had a pit in his gut the entire day.

He wasn’t sure exactly what was causing it as he gathered what he needed to bring to the Torres Residence, though it was beginning to become nauseating. The lack of sleep could’ve also had something to do with it, or maybe even the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything that morning, though he couldn’t be sure. He looked up to see Ruth gearing up, putting her belt on and pinning her radio to her chest. Thatcher sighed, standing up straight before approaching her, lightly pressing a hand on her shoulder.

“Try and stay in sight this time, alright?” Thatcher asked quietly.

“I will. Besides, we have the radio. If necessary I’ll call you from it.”

“…Yeah…yeah, alright.” Thatcher exhaled. “You ready?”

“I guess so.”

“Then we should head out.” Thatcher stated. “Doesn’t seem like anyone else is going to head over there so…suppose we’re going to be the ones to do it.”

“Figures.” Ruth said with a slight chuckle. “Last time we had to do this, the officers pussied out.”

“Let’s get going,” Thatcher grabbed a jacket. “It’s almost sundown, and I’d like to get this done before it’s late.”

It was a completely silent drive to the House, with neither Ruth nor Thatcher speaking a single word. Thatcher felt a sense of unease when he turned down Wisteria Avenue, and when he glanced over at Ruth to see her having a troubled look on her face, Thatcher figured he wasn’t the only one. It clasped the steering wheel, staring forward as he drove by the houses in the neighborhood, seeing that only a few of them had lights on, as if most of them were no longer lived in. Thatcher decided to try and ignore the eerie feeling it had, as when it parked on the side of the road in front of the Torres Home, it realized it was time to get to work.

Thatcher exited the police car, looking towards the House, noticing how dark it appeared to be inside of it. He glanced back at Ruth, checking to make sure she was standing close before he stepped onto the concrete driveway, approaching the front door before reaching towards it and knocking against the dark wood.

“Police Department, open up.” Thatcher called, hoping for an answer but not receiving anything more than silence. He slammed his fist against the door again, harder and louder before calling again; “Police, open the door!”

No response.

Thatcher sighed, preparing to kick open the door before it cracked open slightly, despite Thatcher not touching it. He glanced towards Ruth before pushing open the door further, expecting to see someone, but seeing nothing standing there. Thatcher shook off the strange wave of unease he felt when he stepped inside, convincing himself that it was just the wind that opened the door as he ushered Ruth inside.

Thatcher was greeted with the faint ticking of a clock when he entered the living room, glancing towards the opposite wall to see a tall, red-wood grandfather clock towering over everything else in the room. He looked up at its face, seeing that it was still in perfect working condition considering its hands twitched with every second, without fail. As Thatcher walked into the living room, shining his flashlight along the walls, Ruth looked to her left, seeing a small off-shoot of the living room. A piano was resting next to the wall, with note sheets placed on it. Ruth approached it, seeing the bookshelves beside it and a mirror above it. Ruth looked at her reflection before examining the frame of the mirror itself, brows furrowing when she noticed something around it; water damage.

“Ruth?” Thatcher called from the living room, turning around to look at her.

“I’m here, don’t worry.” Ruth sighed, stepping away from the piano to join the lieutenant, all while a deep red liquid leaked from behind the mirror.

“I don’t really see anything in here, at least nothing abnormal.” Thatcher stated as he looked around the living room.

As Thatcher walked around, Ruth looked towards the clock, staring up at its clock face. Thatcher walked towards a small table resting against the wall, picking up a picture frame that was resting on it before examining the photo. It appeared to be a photo of Maria Torres, along with her son, Cesar. Thatcher sighed, feeling a deep somber feeling looking at the happy faces of the two, knowing, or rather not knowing, the fate of the young man in that very photo.

“Weaver, have you found—” Thatcher paused when he noticed Ruth was still looking at the clock, he slightly shaking flashlight pointed up at its face. “…Ruth?”

“Yes?” Ruth shook her head, turning around towards Thatcher.

“You alright?”

“Yeah…I’m fine.” Ruth answered, though the strange disturbed look on her face made Thatcher believe otherwise.

The two soon passed through the archway leading into the kitchen, pointing their lights into it. There was a square dining table near the corner, with only three chairs accompanying it. The kitchen seemed tidy, with countertops looking as if they were cleaned just the night before. There were some decorations on the walls and some porcelain dishware in an antique shelving unit.

Ruth looked towards a door to the left of the entrance to the kitchen, opening it and looking inside, seeing that it lead to the cluttered garage. She turned to the left, though something felt off, despite nothing being there. She walked back into the main Home, looking into the living room and seeing the piano room. It looked as if it would’ve cut into the garage judging by its location, but when Ruth peeked into the garage again, there was nothing but a straight wall, with no room for the piano room to feasibly fit. She wasn’t sure if it was an optical illusion or simply her mind playing tricks on her, but it made her headache worse just thinking about it.

Thatcher looked to his right, seeing a door on the opposite wall of the kitchen, one that would lead into the living room judging by its placement. He walked towards it, reaching for the doorknob before gagging and backing away, covering his mouth and nose. Ruth looked back towards him, seeing that he was staring at the door with a look of disgust on his face. “Something wrong, Davis?”

“Something behind this door smells…rancid.” Thatcher explained, hesitantly removing the hand covering his face to try and open the door. The doorknob didn’t budge when he attempted to turn it. “…It’s locked.”

“You think it’s a storage closet or something?”

“It’s the only thing that would fit there…hoping it’s just…mildew or something.” Thatcher stated. “Though we’re gonna have to get this open before we leave. Maybe there’s a key around here.”

Thatcher and Ruth passed by the sliding glass doors to the side of the kitchen, staring down the back hallway, seeing that it had three doors; one on the left, one on the right, and one straight forward. The hallway itself bent oddly, with one of the walls feeling like it was placed there abruptly, with its wallpaper being a slightly different shade than the rest. Thatcher and Ruth walked down the oddly built hallway, with Thatcher opening the door straight in front of them, seeing that it led into the bathroom.

He shined his light across the bathrooms walls, soon stopping when he looked into the mirror. Water damage stained the walls around the medicine cabinet, with hundreds of small holes in the wallpaper seemingly oozing a substance Thatcher was unsure of. He stared into the mirror, looking himself in the eye before he attempted to open the medicine cabinet, being unable to for a second until he tore it open. Strands of some sort of red, vine-like substance was torn apart, finally allowing the cabinet to be opened, only to reveal nothing much of use. ADHD medication, bandages, and some miscellaneous items were all that was in there, though as Thatcher stared and pointed his light at the strange “veins” that had held the doors shut, he decided he was done looking in the bathroom.

He closed the cabinet door, turning back towards the hallway without seeing the second pair of eyes looking at him from the mirror. Ruth backed up as Thatcher exited the room, looking at him with a blank look on her face. “Find anything?”

“…I don’t…no.” Thatcher stated, closing the door and covering up the faint sound of tapping he heard from inside there. “I think we should call for reinforcements.”

“Why?”

“Something about this place, man…” Thatcher looked around with a worried look in his eyes. “…Did you find anything?”

“I looked in the bedroom,” Ruth gestured towards the bedroom to the right of the bathroom. “And there wasn’t much of anything in there. Looks like it belonged to Cesar.”

“Then the other one must belong to his mother.” Thatcher sighed. “I’ll look in there real quick, then we’ll…head out.”

“…So soon?”

“We can get a second look later.” Thatcher stated. “For now, let’s just…get this wrapped up.”

Ruth watched as Thatcher approached the other bedroom on the other end of the hallway, sighing deeply before she began to follow him, only pausing after only one step. She could hear something, coming from Cesar’s bedroom. It was faint, and muffled, but as she turned around she could hear it clearer; screams. She glanced back at Thatcher, seeing that he had already entered the other room before she grabbed her pistol and took it out of its holster, holding it by her side as she entered Cesar’s bedroom.

The screams sounded pained, and as she looked around, she saw an opening in the wall, one that she didn’t remember being there when she was last in the room. She swallowed hard, pointing her gun towards the opening, seeing that it led into a short hallway. On the other end of it was an old, wooden door, one that didn’t match the white painted doors that were in every other room in the house. A figure watched from the closet as Ruth stepped towards the door, entering the short hall as she heard the screams become louder. Her heart felt like it was beating heavier than normal, and her hands felt clammy and cold, unsure of what was causing it aside from a deep feeling of dread. “Hello?” She called. “Whoever’s there, please answer!”

No response, though the screams seemed to wane, becoming more like pained, muffled whimpers and groans. Ruth hesitantly put her flashlight onto her belt, reaching for the doorknob and turning it, seeing that it wouldn’t budge. “Damn it.” She swore under her breath before she called once again to the voice she swore she heard behind the door. “Look, we’re gonna get you out of here, okay? Just hang on—” Ruth turned to yell for Thatcher’s help, only stopping when she looked back towards the bedroom. The screams had stopped, and when she pulled out her flashlight to point it into the bedroom, she felt her heart sink. Her widened, horror-filled eyes stared forward, her face pale as if she just saw a ghost, and her body was as stiff as a statue, absentmindedly dropping her gun to the wooden floor.

There was a blank wall where the entrance to the hallway was.

Thatcher stared at the only half-made bed of Maria Torres before walking around the room. He sighed, realizing there was nothing of use in that room either, though with the lack of any useful evidence came the realization that it was time to leave. “Ruth, There’s nothing he—” He turned around, seeing that Ruth was nowhere to be seen, as if she had simply vanished. “Ruth?” Thatcher felt his heart pounding against his ribcage.

No.

No.

No.

No not again.

Please God not again.

“Ruth?” Thatcher was unsuccessful in cloaking the panic in his voice as he quickly left the room, looking around and seeing no sign of life. He searched through the other bedroom, seeing and hearing nothing more than his own footsteps and heavy heartbeat before he opened the bathroom door, looking inside to see no sign of his friend. “RUTH?” He grasped onto his radio, holding it up to his face before turning it on and speaking into it. “Ruth where the hell are you?” There was no response; complete radio silence. “Ruth, do you copy?!”

The sound of music from the living room replaced his panic with dread, with Thatcher slowly turning down the hallway towards the kitchen as he listened to the song. The light to the living room was on, with the light spilling into the kitchen from the archway connecting the two rooms. It was from the piano, being an old classical piece Thatcher felt was familiar, but not enough to name it. He swallowed hard, pulling out his gun from its holster before pointing it ahead of him.

The music became louder with each step the lieutenant took, its hands shaking slightly as it inched ever so closer to the archway, soon standing right beside it and pressing its back against the wall. It peeked around the wall, looking into the living room, just barely able to make out a figure sitting in front of the piano from where he stood. Thatcher sucked up his fear as he took a step into the living room, hearing the clock behind him as he quietly approached the piano room, soon being able to see who was playing the piano.

He saw the back of what appeared to be a young man, one wearing a stained, stitched together black suit and a white dress shirt under it. His spine stuck out from underneath the suit, as if the clothes were melded to it. His black, greasy, messy hair was swept to the side, neatly combed despite how dirty the hair itself was. Thatcher watched as he continued to play, seemingly unaware that Thatcher was even there. It stopped, its gun trained on the figure before it spoke. “Hands where I can see them.”

The figure paused, sitting completely still before looking up at the mirror above the piano itself, with Thatcher finally able to see his face through the reflection. It looked like Cesar, though it barely kept the façade together. Its left eye was replaced by dull-colored veins and arteries, coming out of the eye socket and fusing to the rest of his face and head. Its one remaining eye was wide open, along with its smile. It looked towards Thatcher from the reflection before speaking.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a performance, Lieutenant?”

The figure turned in his seat, placing his folded hands on his lap as he stared at Thatcher with a single, unblinking eye and a soulless smile.

“…Who are you?” Thatcher couldn’t help but notice his voice shook as he spoke, despite him wanting to retain a sense of stoicism.

“…I don’t think that’s important right now.” The figure stated. “Just refer to me as your Host for the night. Besides, I don’t even know if I could tell you my name even if I wanted to.”

Thatcher remained silent as the alternate went on. “Now tell me…who are you? Why are you and your friend here at all?” When Thatcher didn’t respond to the question, the alternate laughed. “Oh who am I kidding…I know your name, Mr. Davis. You two aren’t very quiet…I can at least gather what you call each other.”

“Where’s Ruth.” Thatcher questioned, his tone dark and his expression darker.

“Fodder, dear.” The alternate responded as if it was a stupid question, standing up and causing Thatcher to follow its head with his gun. “Now…why don’t I help you get settled in? I can make dinner, if you’d like.”

“Stay right there.” Thatcher ordered. “…Don’t move.”

“Oh…I suppose I can chat for a little while longer.” The alternate sat back down, staring up at Thatcher’s face, its own expression not changing even slightly. “Though please…I’d like this to be quick.”

“Where…is…Ruth.” Thatcher repeated, his voice more intense than before.

“…You two came at such a perfect time.” The alternate ignored the question asked. “She just wanted some visitors; she’s going to need the company before she sleeps.”

“…She? Who the hell is She?”

The figure chuckled before looking around. “Look around you, Davis. She’s the walls, the floors, the ceiling…she’s made a Home for you, one that welcomes all…even you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re so tense…I figured the concept of a place that’ll accept all company would be…relaxing.” The alternate stated. “I imagine a place that won’t judge you based on your faults would sound inviting for a man like you.”

Thatcher remained in a confused, horrified silence before the alternate stood up. “You know…you remind me of a story I heard once…one of a man named Icarus.”

Thatcher didn’t respond, wordless as the alternate continued. "Ever hear the tale of Icarus? The one who flew too close to the sun...whose hubris became his downfall? Burned, and fell all the way down.”

The figure chuckled, though it sounded more like a wheeze, before continuing. “It's funny. You feel like you can save everyone, don't you? If you just fly a little bit farther, you can keep everyone in this town safe? You've saved Dave. Ruth that one instance. However, you failed to save some. Ones that haunt your conscious despite never meeting them. Is that not why you’re here? To try and save those you failed to protect?”

            The figure stared into Thatcher’s face, leaning in closer before he muttered, “Believing you can save everyone will cause you to fall, and I have to ask you, Mr. Davis. Is your case one of flying too close to the sun? Or not flying far enough?"

Thatcher glanced behind him, seeing the front door and living room before staring the alternate in the eye. Thatcher stared into the pure black pupil of the alternate’s bloodshot eye in silence, before slowly and shakily pointing his gun at the figures leg and pulling the trigger.

The alternate didn’t scream, but fell to the ground on its injured knee, looking down at the steadily bleeding wound as Thatcher ran into the main living room. He reached for the front door, attempting to pull it open only to see that it was jammed shut. He backed away, looking back at the alternate to see it stumbling back to its feet, its joints clicking and cracking with every movement. Thatcher turned towards the couch sitting in front of the large window, seeing a small table resting beside it. He scrambled towards it, grasping it by its legs and throwing it as hard as he could into the window.

The glass shattered as the table careened through it, with the alternate beginning to scream behind Thatcher as he began to vault over it. “NO, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE…WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?!” Thatcher placed his hand on the windowsill, hopping outside as fast as he could, trying to ignore the burning feeling he assumed was from cutting his fingers open with the shards of glass leftover. However, he found he couldn’t move his hand as soon as he was outside, letting out a pained yell as he looked back to see what it was caught on. Two of his fingers were fused with the windowsill itself.

Melted skin and veins attached the fingertips and the entirety of his ring and pinkie finger on his right hand to the House, being immobile despite how many times Thatcher attempted to separate himself from it. He turned his head around, seeing the alternate staring  back at him, for once without the smile on its face. Thatcher saw no choice; he had to force himself off of the windowsill, so he took in a deep breath, jerked his hand away once with no success. He tried to free himself by ripping his arm away from the window, feeling his shoulder tear and his fingers dislocate with every tug. He tried to pull his hand away once, then twice, then three times—

CRACK.

Thatcher screamed, not daring to look at his hand as he scrambled towards the police car on the side of the road; away from that damned house. He swung open the driver’s side door with his left hand, holding his right, rapidly bleeding hand close to his chest as he hopped into the car and started it after fumbling with the key for a second. He placed his clammy, trembling left hand onto the steering wheel, all before hesitantly holding up his right to see it.

The fingers that were stuck on the windowsill were missing.

He couldn’t calm his breathing as much as he tried, instead focusing on not vomiting as he drove away, using only his left hand to do so as he could barely feel anything in his right hand other than agonizing pain. He couldn’t even think properly, his mind going too fast to pick out anything from the mess. He muttered under his breath as he escaped, only worrying about one thing.

“I’ll come back…I’ll get help, Ruth, I will…I will…” He gasped. “I’ll get help…just…sit tight…I’ll be there.” He paused to take in another pained gasp.

“I’ll be there.”

October 6th, 1992. 12:00 PM.

Thatcher’s finger prosthetics itched.

He had been scratching the skin around it the entire day, with the skin in that area becoming red from it. He almost wished he could simply not wear them, but the new scars and the fact that he was missing fingers in general made him keep them on. As he sat, hunched over outside of the church auditorium, he stared blankly at the floor. He was wearing a black suit and tie, his hair being barely considered neat. The sound of the clock ticking on the wall made him sick, though it was better than the sound of people talking in hushed and somber tones around him. If anything, the distracting ticking helped him, if only a little, forget that he was there for a reason. A funeral.

No body was found yet the bastards decided to pronounce Ruth dead. Thatcher had told them Ruth wasn’t confirmed to have passed whatsoever, and could still be out there, yet they didn’t listen. Maybe the cost of a funeral was cheaper than the cost of sending more officers to the scene to get potentially killed. No matter the reason, Thatcher felt a deep hatred in his heart, past all the pain and sadness. How could they? They acted as if she wasn’t a person, only another fucking statistic. Though what was the worst part?

Thatcher could’ve prevented it.

How stupid was he to bring Ruth into danger again? Did he truly believe he would be as lucky as he was last time? Ruth was gone because Thatcher ran away. He was a coward; the very thing he feared becoming the most.

The bells tolled. Service was starting.

Thatcher sighed deeply, standing up before walking into the auditorium, not once looking up as he joined his fellow officers in the pews. He couldn’t bear to look at the casket in front of him, nor the photo of Ruth put up next to it as he sat on the cold wooden bench alone. He stared at his feet, absentmindedly scratching his knuckles with his dirty nails. He could barely think, his mind blank and his expression dead. He could barely even process what was being said by both the priest and whoever was giving the eulogy, simply staring forward before he finally looked at the casket. He knew it was empty, and somehow that made everything feel worse.

He looked to the right, noticing members of Ruth’s family sitting on the opposite side of the church. Parents sobbing, uncles and aunts mourning in silence, however the sight of little Amelia Weaver, sitting with her family, being embraced by her grandfather in an attempt to comfort her, made Thatcher’s heart heavier than a ton of bricks. She was so young, yet she was losing her only parent. Thatcher silently apologized to her, mentally telling her how sorry he was that he failed to protect her mother. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything out loud, with his throat tight and his chest tense. He turned back towards the casket, blankly staring at it as he wondered what would’ve been different if they never went to that House. Maybe she’d still be around. Maybe Thatcher wouldn’t have been a filthy coward.

Someone was walking down the aisle as Thatcher looked back down towards the ground, the person clad in a police uniform staring at Thatcher as he thought to himself. Thatcher listened to the words the priest was saying, though as the seconds ticked by his words became nothing but muffled speech in Thatcher’s mind. Thatcher heard the clock ticking again, this time giving him a headache that worsened with every tick. He kept scratching at his hand, not even noticing the thin, red lines his nails left behind. The figure in the aisle slowly walked towards Thatcher, soon standing directly behind him. Thatcher felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, looking up at the casket before he felt a hand be placed on his shoulder.

He flinched, turning around to see no one in the pew behind him. The sound of the clock was quiet again, barely audible. He stared down at his now bleeding hand, seeing the scratches he dug in his own skin that were bleeding ever so slightly. He let out a shaky breath as he covered his face, wanting nothing more than the service to be over.

Thatcher stayed behind even when the service was over and done with, staring blankly at the casket as if he was incapable of leaving. Even Ruth’s family had left a little while before, but Thatcher simply couldn’t make himself follow them out the door. He sighed deeply, standing up and grabbing a metal folding chair he saw leaning against the wall before placing it in front of the casket, sitting down on top of it in silence before he spoke.

“…I don’t think you can hear me, but…I guess this is for more my peace of mind.” Thatcher muttered, his voice raspier than usual. “…I’m sorry. I can’t even convey how sorry I am.” He let out a brief, forced scoff. “God…I’m fucking pathetic. You’re probably looking down at me…laughing at how God damn stupid I am.”

Thatcher paused, forcing out his words after a few moments of silence. “I failed you. I failed you twice…and…now…you’re gone.” He stifled a sob. “…All because I was scared. You’re dead because I was too fucking scared to protect you. What kind of fucking cop am I? I can’t even protect the people that actually fucking matter.” Thatcher looked up at Ruth’s picture, her smile feeling sunny, though it didn’t help the cloud of guilt over Thatcher’s head.

“If you’re still out there…” Thatcher muttered under his breath. “…I’ll find you. I don’t want forgiveness, I just…I…I-I just…want you here.” He grasped his hair as he hunched over, trying to hold in sobs as tears ran down his face. “I just need you here…”

“Mr. Davis?”

The sound of a deep voice behind it caused Thatcher to turn around, its eyes red from crying. It was Dave, standing in the aisle, staring back at Thatcher with a look of worry in his eyes. He was wearing tinted glasses, along with a black suit, though it was missing a tie. He limped over to Thatcher, supporting himself with the metal cane under his right hand as he approached the lieutenant.

“What.” Thatcher growled, not in the mood to talk.

“I just…wanted to…offer my condolences.” Dave stated quietly. “…I know how close you were to her. She…she was a good woman.”

“…She was.”

Dave looked away for a second, seemingly to think. “…Y’know, I’m…always available to talk.” He said. “I mean…it’s the least I can do.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t do that.” Dave said. “I know you’re not…and you know what? That’s okay. You need time to…mourn. I don’t think you should be so hard on yoursel—”

“Leave me alone.”

Dave became silent, staring at Thatcher as it looked away, once again staring at the casket with a dead look in its eyes. Dave sighed quietly before speaking again.

“If you need anything…just ask.”

With that, Dave began to walk away, leaving Thatcher by himself once again. It clasped its hands together hard enough to hurt, feeling like he had run out of tears to cry. He shook his head, standing up as he stared down at the casket in front of him. He placed a hand on the wood, standing in silence before whispering, “I’ll find you, alright? I promise.”

Thatcher hesitantly left the casket behind, putting his hands in his jacket pockets before walking down the aisle, finally leaving the church through the front door. His guilt couldn’t be described in words, and the emotions he felt clouding his mind were too much to handle, but one thing rang out from his mind, more than everything else; anger, both towards himself and the police station for deeming Ruth a lost cause. He was going to find Ruth, dead or alive. He made a promise, after all.

Until we meet again, Ruth.

[ransprang]

[Ko-Fi Request]

Hi there! I've really been looking for a JJBA (parts 1 to 6) matchup and I really hope you would be able to find the most fitting character for me :)

So, to introduce myself I'm pretty tall, muscular and fit I have long fushia dyed hair, pretty pale skin and brown doe eyes(I also look tired all the time) My sense of style is pretty one of a kind,I really like skirts and turtleneck sweaters . I usually wear a lot of jewelry and chains in my outfit and I have a HUGE love for hats, all types of hats.

I may come off as cold and tense at first glance but I'm a big sweetheart which tend to make people confused I'm very shy and hardly open up, that's why I would need an understanding and kind match I'm also not talkative but a great listener, I love hearing about any types of stories.

I love animals and nature as well as art and painting which is my favorite hobby but I'm also extremely adventurous, and love traveling and discovering new places. Also have a big interest for the unknown, mysteries and out of the common stuff as well as a soft spot for gory stuff sometimes I'm not easy to scare at all, only people can freak me out

When it comes to my S/O, gender doesn't matter as I am pansexual, all I have to say on appearance is that I prefer longer hair.

I really would like a Jojo characters who has the same thrill for adventure but who is also extraordinary sweet and protective Loyalty is highly preferred as I am deadly jealous when it comes to love

thank you anon for your ko-fi request <3 if anyone wants a match up like this here is our link!

Your match up is……OKUYASU!!!

How you meet: It was raining heavily as you walked back to your house, when a man crouching over a cardboard box in the midst of the storm without an umbrella caught your eye. Not being the person to just approach a stranger on the street, you ignored it and kept walking on…until you heard the softest little meows. You froze, looking around until you realized it was coming from that box. Okuyasu noticed you looking at him and waved you over. He started talking about the abandoned little kittens and how he wanted to get them to a safe place. You had no choice but to offer your umbrella and walk him home with the kittens. Immediately he started gushing about how pretty you are and tried to impress you. You weren’t too impressed but it got you both talking and by the end of your walk, you were both friends.

Okuyasu doesn’t mind if you’re quiet at the start of the relationship. He is a really chatty fella and will tell you a ton of stories. He’d be the type of guy to text you updates about what he’s eating and send you random selfies.

Once you open up he’ll be a bit shaken by how much of a sweetheart you are, but he’ll love you even more for it. He’d think he’s a lucky guy and both of you would be a super sweet couple making others be jealous of y’all (especially Josuke).

You won’t be scared of people as long as you are with Okuyasu. He is a scary looking fella himself and he’d stare down people who look at you funny. Or he’d try to distract you from looking at scary looking people.

If you tell him you like gore he’ll beat people up and then look over at you “HAHAHA DO YOU LIKE THAT BABE. AREN’T I SO COOL.”

He may borrow some of your jewelry and chains because it looks really cool on you, complimenting his massive gold dollar chain on his chest.

He’d be down to explore untouched parts of Morioh and just roam around aimlessly. Once you both save up money he’d take you to other parts of Japan and try cool things like jet skiing or hiking.

When Okuyasu realizes that you have a preference for long haired men, he spends all night the day before meeting you, trying to straighten his hair to make it longer. He ends up with the jagged pieces of hair behind his neck being half an inch longer.

He makes a point to highlight it to you during your date. Okuyasu loves you so much that he would wear a different hat everyday, and he may even learn to sew to make you some cute crocheted ones. This manly man will only be soft for you.

You being tall, muscular and fit, blend in perfectly with the Jojo universe. You have no problem when Okuyasu, who is similarly tall, muscular and fit, takes off running somewhere randomly.

your gore,

admins sar, sav & san

[randomwriting-misc]

Endangered | Chapter Ten

Paul Lahote x OFC

Endangered Masterlist

Summary: Vampires and wolves are not the only supernatural creatures to walk the earth, and they are certainly not the only ones in Forks, Washington when Charlotte Annabeth Swan, "Anna", moves in with her uncle after the unfortunate demise of her parents.

Some may misidentify her as a witch, but that’s fine, she would rather them think that anyway. But the Volturi know the truth, and they are closing in on her.

A/N: We are getting spicy here friends. 18+ warning for the end on this chapter

Warnings include: penetration, fingering, oral (fem receiving), cursing, Paul being a simp

MINORS DNI!!!!!

Charlie made me cry one more time that morning, by ordering pancakes from the diner and bringing them home for me, continuing the tradition I was sure would be forgotten since Bella’s birthday. It was just us at the table, but that was okay, it was always just the two of us nowadays.  

It's now almost 11:30, and I’m in front of my mirror, staring intently over the clothes I had on. I didn’t want to wear my usual jeans and t-shirt, but the corduroy skirt I was wearing hugged my curves in a way I hadn’t exposed in a while. I was more inclined to be bundled up lately, still not acclimating well to the cold. I had tights on, and after debating for a few more minutes, I figure that if I really get cold, Paul’s 108-degree body heat could help. Sliding an oversized beige sweater over my head, I tucked it into the skirt. Satisfied, I adjust Paul’s bracelet, so it wasn’t under the sleeve, I liked being able to see it.

I added a gold pendant on a long chain that belonged to my mother. It was a sun stamped into gold, and the protection magic in it was actually hers. I am pulling on wool boot socks when I hear Paul knocking on the front door.  

I rush to open it, but as I open my bedroom door, Bella walks out into the hallway at the same time, stopping me in my tracks.  

“Hi,” I say as she looks me over quizzically. She nods, about to walk past me to the bathroom when she stops.  

“Where are you going?” She asks, surprising me. I couldn’t remember the last time I heard her actual voice.  

“Oh, uhm... I’m going to my birthday party.”  

She flinches at the mention of birthdays, and I move to head downstairs, not wanting to cause Charlie more strife tonight by reminding her of the last time she saw the Cullens. As I reach the top step, she calls my name.  

“Anna? Happy birthday,” there’s a tinge of regret in her tone, and I force myself to smile and say thank you.  

Charlie has beaten to the door where Paul stands in jeans and a Henley shirt. They are engaged in what seems to be a meaningful conversation, Charlie’s hand on Paul’s shoulder. Charlie is speaking lowly so I can’t hear, and Paul’s face is void of any telling emotion. I clear my throat to announce my presence.  

“Ready?” I ask. They both turn to face me, and I can feel the relief Paul feels from my interruption, followed by another emotion I can’t discern as he looks me over.

“Yeah,” Charlie says, “I hope you have a good time Anna, be safe, be responsible, no peer pressure and all that.”  

“Got it, Uncle Charlie. No intravenous drugs, just the tame stuff,” I say, walking over to Paul in the doorway, putting an arm around him.  

“Haha, very funny,” he says dryly, “Happy Birthday kid, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Nodding, I grab my bag that was already by the door. I’m not sure how Paul got Charlie to agree to stay overnight with everyone, but I’m sure Emily had something to do with it. I say goodbye as we walk to Paul’s truck.  

“You look gorgeous as always,” he says helping me up into the passenger seat, that same discernible feeling thrumming through my chest.  

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

“Happy Birthday!” A chorus of voices greets me as I enter Emily’s house, making me shriek back in shock, then laugh. Sam and Jared are in front, with Emily and Kim by their sides, and scattered around the room are some of my friends from school, Mike, Eric, Angela, and Jessica. With Bella isolating herself so much, we had all banded together, bonding over our concern and feelings of abandonment from the other Swan. In her absence, Mike had even turned some of his flirty attention on me, I’m shocked Paul invited him.  

Emily’s house has a gorgeous open concept, with large French doors leading to the backyard, where everything is decorated. Smiling faces crowd me one by one as they take turns giving me hugs. On the table, Emily has laid out an array of food, I can smell something on the grill in the backyard.

I thank everyone and they shortly break off into smaller groups, Sam and Jared go back outside, and to my surprise, Eric and Mike follow. I turn to Paul, wrapping my arms around his neck in a hug.  

“Thank you,” I whisper, “You were right, I would have been sad without celebrating today.”

“Of course, love,” he says lifting me off the ground for a moment. When he puts me down, he tells me he’s going to check in with Emily and Kim, making sure there wasn’t anything else they needed help with, and instructing me to go see my friends, and to not lift a finger.  

Jessica and Angela are giggling on the couch, and they pull me between them when I approach them.

“Anna, you have been gatekeeping,” Angela says.  

“Yeah,” Jessica chimeds in, “At first, I was kinda pissed when you kept blowing us off, but now? If I was surrounded by multiple tall, darks, and handsomes, I wouldn’t be hanging out with us either.”  

I throw my head back in a laugh, “It’s not like that. I love you guys. I just don’t get to see Paul all the time with his schedule.”

“Mhm, sure, do any of them have single friends or brothers?” Jessica asks.

“Not that I know of, but if I meet anyone who fits that description, I’ll let you know,” I wink, sending them into another fit of giggles.  

Paul steps out of the kitchen talking along with Emily and Kim, when his eyes land on mine, he winks, and I know he heard our conversation. Rolling my eyes, I lean back as Emily and Kim join us as he walks outside.  

“Like I said, "Jessica whispers, “I get it. I don’t know what is about you Swan girls seducing the hottest people in town, but I would like some of it.” A small surge of jealously runs through me, but I laugh it off. Excusing myself, I go out to see the boys surrounding the grill.  

“Are you all supervising?” I joke, pushing Jared away to stand next to Sam. Jared playfully shoves me back before letting me into the semi-circle the boys had made.  

“Well, who else is going to make sure Sam doesn’t burn anything?” Jared says sarcastically.  

“Are you doubting his mad skills?” I say, feigning shock. Paul's arms wrap around my shoulders from behind me, kissing my head.

“We would never,” Paul says, a smile evident in his voice. Eric and Mike agree, and I’m happy to see everyone is getting along. Soon, the food is ready, and everyone comes outside as Jared starts a bonfire.  

It’s a perfect afternoon, full of laughter and joy, something I was worried I would lack today. In the middle of Eric recounting a story about how Mike tried and failed, to surf a storm surge on La Push Beach, Paul nudges my shoulder, getting my attention.  

“Come with me,” he whispers. Helping me up, I follow him to the front of the house.  

“Where are we going?” I ask.  

“One of your birthday presents just got here,” Paul says like that would explain everything. Before I could ask what he could mean, Jacob steps out from behind a car, and I freeze. I had missed him so much in the last few months but wasn’t willing to let him continue to act like that towards me.

Looking at Paul skeptically, he nods, and I break out in a smile.  

“Hey Anna,” he says timidly, “Happy Birthday.” I run to hug him, catching him off guard and he grabs onto me, the breath knocked out of him.  

“Hi Jake,” I mumble.  

“I owe you an apology,” he says sincerely, and I pull back from him.  

“Yeah, you do, but later? I’m just happy to have you here as long as you can play nice.” I poke the center of his chest.  

“Scout’s honor,” he says holding up his hand. I smile and grab his hand leading him back to the fire to introduce him to the new faces. Paul follows beside me, and I open a connection to him briefly.  

This means the world to me, thank you so much.

Anything to see you smile, he replies.

Jacob is just in time for Emily to bring out the cake, and I hope that this will show him that there isn’t anything nefarious going on in our group. The rumor that Sam started a gang was absolutely ludicrous.

The “Happy Birthday” song is loud and terribly off-key, but somehow it just makes it better. I laugh so hard I almost can’t blow out my candles, as cheers erupt around me at the table. Paul kisses me on the cheek and leads me away from everyone as Emily passes out pieces to everyone.

“I wanted to give you your present,” he says softly, holding out a small, wrapped box.

Curious, I open it, trying to not rip the paper, which makes him chuckle.

Opening the box, my breath hitches, revealing a necklace. There’s a dainty gold chain, a singular pearl in the middle.

“I wanted to give you a little piece of home to keep with you,” he says showing me the name of the company, located where I grew up.

For the third time that day, a few tears fall down my face.

“Thank you,” I whisper, “This is more than I could ever ask for.” He silences me with a kiss, taking the necklace out of the box. I turn around and lift my hair up so he can secure the clasp, before turning around. My hands find the sides of his face and I pull him in for another kiss, his soft lips against mine, he holds me close. His lips part slightly, deepening it as I run a hand through his hair.

“I love you,” he breathes, breaking the kiss, peppering small pecks across my cheeks and nose. Suddenly, the discernable feeling from before clicks, love. I knew on some level we loved each other, but to hear him say it made my heart soar.

“I love you too,” I admit, giggling as his lips ghost over a ticklish spot on my neck. Picking me up, my legs lock around his waist as he kisses me feverishly, hands steadying my hips. The feeling of love pulsing between us.

I whisper his name as little breathy moans escape me, his lips making their way down my neck.  

“Would you like to stay the night with me? At my place?” he asks, switching to kiss the other side of my neck, I lean my head back in a gasp.

“What about-?”

“He’s gone for the weekend, it’ll be okay.” He reassures.

I nod and he lowers me back to the ground as rowdy noises from the living room are heard.

“Let’s go back before the start wondering where you are.”  

Flustered, we walk back to the group. I sit on the couch, and Paul walks over to help Emily. I pout at the distance, but Jacob sits down next to me.

“Hey Jake,” I smile.

“Hey, how ya holdin’ up?” He puts an arm on the back of the couch behind me, and I lean my head on him, turning to face him. His skin is warm to the touch. I wonder how long it’ll be before Jake is put through the change.

“Surprisingly well, it would have been a lot worse without them,” I say, looking over at my friends. Sam is messing with the frosting, getting some on Emily’s nose as she tries to chase him off, Paul is talking to Eric and Jared, laughing about something I can’t hear. Jessica, Angela, and Mike are talking to Kim, with smiles on their faces.

“You really like being around them?” He asks skeptically.

“Yeah, I love it. They are really amazing Jake,” I say, crossing my arms and lowering my voice, “I don’t know why you seem to hate them so much.”

“They just act like they are in control like the Reservation is theirs and only theirs,” He says, “But hey, whatever makes you happy.” He throws his hand up in defeat. I can tell he’s still not happy about it all, but it’s better than having him hold animosity towards me.

“Paul makes me happy,” I say confidently.

“Well, let me know if he fucks up, I’ll defend your honor before saying anything snarky.”

Laughing, I push him away, and he falls back dramatically.

“Sure, I’ll keep it in mind Jake.”

He laughs, and my heart warms to have Jacob back in my life, even if it might be a tentative process.

As the sun sets, things wind down and people start to leave, saying goodbye to everyone on their way out. I try to help Emily and Sam clean up, but she shoos me away.

“No, we got it. Go, I’m sure Paul wants some time alone with you,” she says with a grin.

“Are you sure?” I ask again.

“Positive.”

“Thank you so much for everything today, Em,” I hug her, “it really means a lot. I love you all.”

“We love you too sweet girl, I’m happy we got to help make today special for you,” she squeezes me again.

Paul is leaning against the doorframe, silently waiting as I say goodbye and thank you to Sam. Paul has already gathered the presents, I haven’t opened yet in his truck from everyone at the party, and even Charlie.

The couple waves us off as Paul pulls out of the driveway.

------------------------------- 18+ -----------------------------

The air is thick with tension on the drive over, and the radio playing lightly is the only sound. Paul’s hand is on my thigh, the other on the steering wheel. My thoughts are chaotic, ranging from innocent to lustful. There had always been an unspoken intimacy with Paul, one of us was always touching the other without thinking about it too much.

It’s not like either of us were particularly virginal, but it felt like first kisses, first dates, first anything held more weight with him. I didn’t want anything to be rushed, and we both had been so busy, that sex was something that I was comfortable waiting for until we were both fully present, with no distractions or worries to call us away.

It was at the forefront of my mind now though, every touch of his thumb grazing my thigh felt like electricity through my body. There was a knot in my lower stomach, and warmth between my thighs. I was focused on breathing, trying to not make it so obvious how much he was affecting me.

Paul’s emotions seem to match mine, but there’s a distinct feeling of anxiety that worries me. Pulling up to his house, he gets out and opens my door, just like always, but I stop him before he steps back, pulling him close. My breath stutters as my knees settle on either side of his waist. Something flashes in his eyes before he closes them, taking a deep breath.

“Hey,” I whisper, “Everything okay?”

He nods, forehead leaning against mine.

“What are you thinking about so hard,” I question quietly. It takes a minute, but he finally admits his concerns.

“I love you,” he starts, hands sliding up my thigh, over my skirt, “I want… this, but I don’t want to hurt you.” His eyes won’t meet mine with his confession out in the open.

I tilt his head up, making direct eye contact, “You won’t break me,” I say.

“You don’t know that.” His brow furrows, but I hold him steady, caressing his cheeks.

“I do Paul, I trust you implicitly, with every part of me.” Lowering my hand, I guide his to my waist.

“Anna,” he whispers.

“Paul,” I whisper back, moving closer to him, the fabric of my skirt bunching up my thighs.

“You don’t understand how much I want you,” he admits.

“Then show me.”

One arm wraps around my waist, lifting me out of the truck like I weigh nothing, as the other slams the door shut. He carries me into the house, and I’m too focused on him to really notice my surroundings as he pushes my back against a wall.  

“Promise me you will tell me to stop if I hurt you.” He pleads with me.  

I hold his face in my hands, “I promise, but you won’t.”

I roll my hips into him slightly, and he groans at the friction, his head rolling back, giving me access to kiss down his neck. At his moans, I slightly nip at his shoulder as he emits a growl.  

“Anna,” he says breathily.  

“Yes?” I say, continuing to kiss his neck, hands slipping underneath his shirt.  

“You’re killing me,” he moans.

“Tell me to stop.”

“Never.”  

I lift his shirt, and he raises his arms, letting me take it off all the way. He catches my lips in a passionate kiss, holding me gently as he moves from the wall to what I assume is his bedroom. I kick off my shoes as he lays me down on a bed. I rest on my forearms, looking up at him.

“God, you’re hot,” I sigh, making him smirk. Kneeling by the edge of the bed, his hands slide underneath my skirt, he pulls off my tights agonizingly slowly, kissing the exposed skin from my thighs down my legs. I swear I can hear my heartbeat.

“And you,” he says, pulling my shirt up, kissing my stomach, “are absolutely perfect.” I lean up to take off my top, and once it’s over my head, he kisses me again, this time more passionate and needy. I wrap my arms around his neck and part my lips, inviting him deeper. I moan into him as his fingertips run up my sides, giving me chills, as he unhooks my bra and I let it fall off my shoulders.

I trace down his chest with my hands, his hardened abs underneath them, down to his waistband. Unbuttoning his shorts, I feel him straining against his boxers as he takes a sharp breath when my hand slips underneath the elastic, wrapping around him.

“Fuck, Anna,” he rasps.

I smile, his reactions forming a tightness in my core. He takes a step back off the bed, letting his pants and boxers fall, and looks at me with hungry eyes. Pulling off my skirt, I can’t help but stare. It really was unfair how attractive he was, and my heart leaps when my eyes trail down to his hips, his impressive length hard against him.

“Oh, fuck me,” I mutter, head falling back on the bed, “You’re unreal.”

He lets out a small laugh and comes back to the bed leaving sweet kisses on my ribs and chest.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m so sure,” I say, running a hand through his hair.

He grasps my hip tightly, and in response, a gasp rips through me, and he looks up in concern.

“It’s okay,” I say, “I’m not that fragile.”

Nodding, he kisses down the valley between my breasts, thumbs ghosting over my nipples, hardening them as his hands trail down, making me arch my back in a moan.

“Rude,” I whisper as he continues down, nipping at my hips. Spreading my legs slightly apart, I inhale as his finger glides in between my folds, eliciting a moan from both of us.

“You’re so wet me for, baby,” he whispers as one finger enters me slowly, all my words are lost as his tongue laps at my clit, sending a shock through my spine. I bucked my hips against him, and he moans, his voice deep, sending vibrations to my core. He steadies my hips with his other arm, pushing them into the bed.

“Oh, fuck Paul,” I moan, and I feel him smile as his tongue moves in circles, and I continue to struggle to move for more connection. My hands run through his hair, and I’m pleased with myself when he moans when I tug at it.

Pressure builds, and I feel myself tightening around his fingers, holding onto his hair, he’s relentless as the pressure breaks, waves of pleasure rocking through me. I’m breathless as he kisses back up my body.

“I love you,” he says, biting my neck gently. I finally catch my breath, hands running down his back.

“I love you too.”

He kisses me gently, and I can still taste myself on his tongue. I can feel the tip of his cock, rubbing up and down the length of my entrance, and moan.

“Please,” I beg, and a growl slips from him. He nods and moves to retrieve a condom from the bedside table, I take it from him, and he stands upon his knees. I slowly pull the condom over his length, purposefully taking my time as he stares down at me, biting his lip. Then, he lightly pushes me back on the bed.

Slowly, he pushes in, stretching me out with every inch, I arch to pull him closer, bottoming him out in me with a gasp.

“God, Anna,” he groans, “this is unfair.” He holds still for a moment, breathing deeply before moving out and back in one time.

“It should be impossible for you to feel this good,” he says, an arm reaching underneath my back to pull me close to him, skin to skin.

“I think that’s all you baby,” I say, my thighs already trembling around him.

With slow movements, he finds a rhythm, whispering encouragements into my ear as he picks up speed.

“You feel so good.”

“Such a good girl for me.”

“My pretty baby.”

His words strike a chord with me, not only arousing me, but warming my heart, and once again he pushes me to the edge. I can feel how he feels even more now, bliss running through my body and his.

I’m a moaning mess when his hand slips between us, his thumb brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, unraveling me.

“Paul,” I cry, “I’m – I-” I stutter.

“Fuck baby, me too.” He says, keeping the pressure on my clit, gasping when I tighten around him rolling my hips one last time.

He collapses against me, breathing hard. Gasping as he slowly pulls out of me and laid next to me.

I lay my head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

He kisses my head, hands lazily running up and down my back.

“Are you okay?” He tentatively asks.

“I’m amazing,” I say pushing his hair back, “You’re amazing.”

He smiles, relieved.

“Have I told you I love you?” He asks and smiles.

“Maybe, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

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

Taglist: @abaker74 @sunsetevergreen

[heresathreebee]

Eddie Munson | Stranger Things 4 || Prompt A/B/O // Floor Sex

Pre-Season 4; 1.7k words (short fic IMO); NO BETA/ SELF- EDITED, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Swearing, Play Fighting, Eddie and Reader Are Both Perverts, Shameless Flirting, Pet Names, Carrying, Tickling, Ruined Clothes, Biting, Pinned Down, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it PLEASE), Choking (mild), Pulling Out, First Kiss

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You and Eddie were just play-wrestling. It was an honored pastime that you had been engaging in since you were both in diapers. It got a little rocky when you both hit puberty– you got bigger than him first and lorded it over him right up until his growth spurt hit and the roles were reversed. But somewhere along the lines, you two called a truce and found a happy medium where it’s just good, wholesome fun. 

Yeah... wholesome...

Very wholesome, how he throws off his jacket and flexes the lean muscles of his arms. While he’s slipping out of the chain for his wallet and tying his bandana to keep his hair out of his eyes, you throw your oversized sweater aside and reveal a brand-new, fairly fitted top with a low neckline underneath it. Fuck, you're grown up now…

“No biting this time,” Eddie warns you, fully aware that you will absolutely bite him out of spite, probably moreso than if you hadn’t been told not to. 

“You better have showered today, Munson, I’m not looking to be suffocated by your stench.”

“Oh please, you love my stench,” he jokes. 

You throw an orange from the bowl on the kitchen counter and hit him square in the groin. Eddie immediately drops his wallet and groans, piercing you to the spot with a mean glare. Once his shoes were flying, you bent your knees and waited to see his next move as the fight began. 

“Watch your ass, princess, you’re dealing with a champ,” Eddie said as he circled you, slowly switching places in the open floor between the ‘living room’ and the kitchen area. 

You rolled your eyes-- which turned out to be a mistake. Eddie rushed you and swallowed you in his arms. You squealed in surprise but recovered quick enough to try dropping to your knees.. and instead getting your head caught as he tries to keep a hold of you so you must bite his belly to free yourself. You catch a mouthful of cotton shirt and have no time to react as Eddie sits down on your shoulders, forcing a startled laugh out of you.  

“Get your fat ass off of me, Eddie!”  

You pushed up on his thighs and managed to free yourself, landing Eddie flat on his butt and tackling him onto his back. Instantly, you spread your legs as wide and as stiffly as you could to stop him from flipping your positions and gaining the upper hand. You both cackled madly as you held on for dear life. 

“What the hell are you doing?,” Eddie laughed when he figured out how you were muscling him into submission. Instead of answering, you buried your face into his chest and fought off his attempts to tickle you. It's no use because your legs fold as soon as he smacks your ass, and then he flips you over so he's on top. 

“Fucker,” you growl playfully as he traps your arms. 

“Fuck who?,” he teases you with a tantilizing thrust of his hips. “Don’t think I didn’t notice this– ” Eddie’s calloused hands smacked your bare thigh so hard it stings. “-never seen this little number before. Looks good on you, sugar.”

“Easy tiger,” you caution even as your cheeks heat up (your skirt was also new and incredibly revealing), “I’m starting to think you’re flirting with me.” 

You wriggle an arm free when he’s not looking and grapple his head. Immediately, you yelp when you feel his teeth sink into your breast. You secretly loved when Eddie was rough with you, it was hard to get it out of him simply because he was just that good at knowing how much was too much for you. 

Eddie tries to free himself from your hold by climbing to his hands and knees, but as soon as your legs are free, you swing them up, under, and over– one leg hooking over his shoulder and the other under his right arm. 

You simultaneously pull his arm up to your face and close your thighs around him, effectively trapping him in a headlock. The way he looks up at you makes you squeeze your thighs tighter involuntarily. Eddie flexes his trapped arm and you use both hands to hold him still. He's fucking strong, but you have the advantage. 

"You can tap out," you sing mischievously. 

"And miss this pretty view?," he replies, "never." 

Damn those long dancer’s legs of his. He can't break out of your hold, but he can sit up and drag you into his lap somehow, even when you squeeze him again. He tsks at you like you are a disobedient pet and not a best friend he has a lot of sexual tension with. 

“I’m gonna count to three,” he warns you. 

Suddenly you feel the creeping touch of his other hand on your lower back, but your own are preoccupied with disabling one arm (and fuck, the way the muscles ripple as he flexes to keep you that way…)

“One.” 

Eddie smirks and you feel his breath caress your stomach where your shirt is riding up. 

“Two.” 

His fingers creep lower on your back, grazing the elastic band of your underwear and lower, edging towards your core where you need him the most. 

"Three–" 

Without further warning, Eddie stands– actually stands up to his full height– bearing all of your weight as he goes. You scream, having been so distracted by his fingers you forgot to hold your position and start slip away, limbs flailing helplessly. Luckily, Eddie anticipated your reaction, and he catches you upside down, with one arm around your waist. It's embarrassing both how loud you were and how turned on you currently are. 

And now you're on full display for him to see the wetness seeping through your panties. 

"Eddie!" You cry as he smacks your clothed sex and lets you dangle dangerously over the hardwood floor. "Please! Put me down!" 

"Ah, is princess scared?," Eddie teases. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I won't drop you." 

And in a flash, the image of the world around you blurs until you are unexpectedly face to face with the prettiest fucking metalhead you've ever seen. 

He must have flipped you over, I mean obviously, right? Now his hands were planted under your thighs and yours were fisted into his shirt, no doubt stretching it. You gulped air as you tried to calm down and marveled at his strength (ignoring the smug expression on his face). 

"Hi," you pant. 

"Hi," he chuckles back and starts to let you down on your feet. "Round two?" 

"But who won– HEY" You yelp as you feel your ripped underwear sliding down your legs to your ankles. When did they break?! 

You turned your back on him to try and catch the scraps-- yet another mistake.

Eddie wraps his arm around your throat and brings you to your knees, then he's hovering over your back as he presses your face into the floor. Now that you are bare below, you can feel the rough denim of Eddie's black jeans against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. There's not much movement allowed in this position which has your heart suddenly pounding. 

And with practiced ease, Eddie opens his button and fly (he went commando today) and rubs the flushed head of his cock against your wet folds. When he finally breaches your walls, a needy groan rips through your chest and you bury your face into the carpeted floor of the living room you are splayed halfway across. Eddie moans too, his chest warm and rumbling against your back as he bottoms out. 

“Love playing with you like this, princess,” Eddie growls in your ear. “Nothing makes me feel so good…” 

"Eddie, move. Don't you wanna win?" 

You are already circling your hips to gain some friction and loving the way his arm tightens around your throat. You can breathe fine, but stars start to dance in your vision as the blood flow to your brain is yielding to the pressure. Eddie’s hips barely lift off of your butt yet he drives into you deep as you both find the rhythm. 

Just as your toes start to curl, Eddie grunts again into your ear. “You just gonna take it, princess? Just gonna let me win, huh?” 

You answered him by shaking your head enough to loosen his hold and biting his hairy forearm so hard that he thrusts get a lot rougher with you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, “fight back.” 

Groaning, your teeth dig harder into his flesh until you think you taste copper. The next thing you know, Eddie rips his arm free and uses it to press your head down. Not one to be outdone, you struggle, lifting yourself on your knees to try and buck him off. Eddie uses both hands to hold your hips, drag you back, and spear you on his cock to keep you from crawling away. 

"Oh fuck Eddie!" You shriek as he hits something deep inside you. And ever the observant, Eddie takes it upon himself to hit it over and over and over and over. 

He's pulled you backwards into his lap and your arms give out under you so fast you almost slam your forehead into the floor. The intensity of his thrusts are starting to overwhelm you and you squirm, both trying to get away from it and get closer as your orgasm builds to a peak. 

Just as your pussy starts spasming, Eddie pulls out and flips you over onto your back again and jerks his hand over cock until he finishes, ruining another one of your nicest shirts. He loves watching you come– even at the expense of feeling it. Mercifully he doesn't leave you completely hanging and rubs gentle circles on your clit to ease you down from your high. 

Sweat covers every inch of your body making your shirt stick to your skin and reveal your bra underneath. Eddie admires how exhausted you are– and it's all because of him. You crack open your eyes and give him a lazy smile so sweet he has no choice but to return it. 

"I win, right," you chuckle. "I came first, so I won." 

"Nope, I win," Eddie says and flicks your nose. "I made you come." 

You roll your eyes playfully. "Oh? I'm starting to think this game doesn't have real rules anymore. Care to fill me in again?"

"Oh, I'd love to give you another demonstration if you're up for it," Eddie says. 

And then he's kissing you, for the first time, and you can't pretend anymore that you are just friends now.

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Thank you for reading! I have other Eddie fics on the way if you're looking for more! You can find out when as the Masterlist is updated ;)

[kpopmakesmeweep]

badboy!yeonjun x innocent!reader 

word count: 21k

angst, fluff, smut

when your teacher asked you to tutor in the beginning of the school year, you were hesitant even then. 

you knew that it meant your lunch period and one study hall for the day were gonna be completely booked, helping younger kids grasp the basic idea that the mitochondria was the powerhouse of the cell.

but then you met one young girl desperate to pass her first test in october and knew your teacher had gotten you, sending a small, defeated smile her way as you gave her the okay to put your name on the list. 

you didn’t expect to come back from winter break with the news that the next student you’d be tutoring wasn’t a sweet 7th grade girl but none other than choi yeonjun. 

the overwhelmingly attractive but horribly intimidating boy who was a year older than you and had, quite possibly, one of the worst reputations the school has ever seen.

if he wasn’t getting suspended for fighting or smoking on school grounds, you’d attempt to block out the mindless gossip about him and all the college girls he’d frequently fraternize with. 

he was in your lunch period when you were a sophomore and he was a junior and you couldn’t help but be fascinated by how handsome he was. how he carried himself and how everyone else seemed to be fascinated by him too.

he was always wearing some variation of black, like his closet was just an empty void of black leather, dark cotton and chains. if he didn’t have on a beanie or hat, his then blue hair was a mess of waves that always made you look a few seconds too long.

you’ll never forget the day that he caught you, your nose in a textbook as you studied for a midterm before a loud shout of his name caught your attention. 

you looked up and watched one of his friends playfully punch him in the arm, something about him hooking up with the older girl he had his eye on first and yeonjun only smirking at him devilishly. 

he didn’t look apologetic or regretful in the slightest, more so like he’d do again just because he could and just because he knew the girl would be eager to have another go with him. 

your breath caught in your throat when his deep brown eyes met yours, his head cocked as he held your gaze with all the confidence and smugness you could never have. 

it took his lips quirking into a cocky smile for you to snap out of it, cheeks warming and stomach churning at getting caught before you dropped your gaze right back down to your book.

it was a quick and thorough reminder that this is where you feel comfortable and this is where you belong - with your nose in a book and your mind on your studies. 

you’ve always intended to just get through high school with good grades and minimal distractions, a small (almost non-existent) friend group that left you able to make straight a’s and work a small, part-time job.

you’d done a pretty good job of that thus far, no bad boys covered in all black and sliver chains to show you that, maybe, getting out of your comfort zone isn’t such a bad thing after all.  

you met yeonjun during your 7th period study hall a week later than intended, him not showing up to either of the periods your teacher informed you both last week. 

you weren’t surprised in the slightest but also wouldn’t dare tattle on him, simply dodging the questions from your teacher or giving her a polite smile and cryptic answer. 

but you couldn’t even stop the way your eyes widened when the library door opened and he was making his way toward you, black beanie placed on his head along with a dark shirt tight across his chest paired with gray sweatpants that made you bite down on your lip.

his hair was pink now, long with a slight wave to it that looked all too soft and inviting to touch; the color probably shouldn’t work on anyone but, of course, it works on him. 

devastatingly attractive in a way that doesn’t seem fair nor human. 

he hasn’t said a word to you, he wasn’t even within six feet of you yet, but you were already scared shitless. you already didn’t trust yourself to be around him and not make a bumbling fool of yourself. 

a pretty smirk crossed his face when he stood in front of you, looking down at you with a playful look in his eye that was far too mocking and sinister. 

“hey. y/n, right?”

you never would’ve pictured this man saying (or even knowing) your name, nor him looking at you so willingly and intensely, but you have to quickly snap yourself out of it. 

this was as professional a relationship could be between two students and you really had to get it together. 

“hi, yes... that’s me,” you say softly. 

so softly that you’re not even sure he can hear it but you can, unfortunately, hear the tremor in your own voice and it’s nothing but absolute embarrassment. 

he happens to like it though, if the way his eyes light up and his smirk widens tells you anything. 

“i’m yeonjun.”

“i know.”

you say the statement far too quickly and it causes your face to warm, your mouth hanging open as the amusement continues to build behind his eyes; you can see with your own that the boy is too handsome for his own good but something tells you he’s probably far too charming as well. 

“i mean... we were supposed to meet last week,” you attempt to clarify.

it seems like a good save, something to make, both, your embarrassment lessen slightly and for him to know you’re aware that he missed the two sessions last week. 

but it doesn’t seem to work, the boy sitting down across from you with all the confidence and smoothness in the world. he leans in closer and you hold your breath, horribly lonely and touch-starved heart fluttering in your chest. 

“i know, sorry about that,” he says, a genuineness in his voice that you can’t help but question. “i was busy with some things.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, not even wanting to think about what kind of things keeps a man like him busy.

your teeth sinks into your bottom lip nervously and you can just feel his eyes burning into you, moving across your pink face and down to your soft white sweater; it makes you look every bit as innocent as he’s presumed you to be and he can’t say it doesn’t make him smile. 

“and yet, the teacher didn’t say anything to me about missing.”

you meet his eyes at his questioning tone, so scrutinizing and intense that you feel very grateful about your decision not to blow up his spot; you don’t even wanna know what he looks like when he’s angry. 

or maybe you do, some darker and suppressed part of yourself thinks. 

“that’s because i didn’t tell her,” you say quietly, a lump forming in your throat that you’re trying desperately to push down. “i didn’t wanna....” 

you almost say tattle and you think your face wold turn an unnatural shade of red if that silly word left your mouth in front of him.

so you meekly and sweetly decide on, “i didn’t wanna get you in trouble,” a smile gracing his face that almost makes you feel like you’d done a good job or something. 

and how ridiculous does that sound? you did a good job for the older, delinquent boy - you don’t know what’s gotten into you. 

maybe his smile and his eyes and just the way he’s looking at you is making you feel as if you’re actually something to look at - you’ve never really been observed the way he’s observing you. 

a deep, melodic chuckle leaving his mouth causes you to swallow nervously, watching him with a blank expression because you’re not sure if he’s laughing at you or with you.

your heart stutters when he leans back to stretch, his arm squeezing at the back of his neck; it takes everything in you not to watch his arm flex.

“how’d i know you were a good girl, hm?”

your eyes widen at his words, stomach swooping in a way that’s only ever happened when you watch couples on tv or read about a romance in books. 

because it’s not only his words, it’s the way he carries himself. the way he’s looking at you and speaking to you, the way you never thought anyone would - let alone him. 

he must mistake your utter...shock and fascination for confusion, eyes wide and cheeks flushed and he suddenly wants to place his hand on your cheek. 

see if it’s as warm and soft as it appears to be in this very moment.

“you were in my lunch last year, no?” he hums, looking directly at you with zero ounce of fear and ever bit of confidence. “always with a textbook or writing something.”

he doesn’t remember all the girls that gawk at him but he remembered you immediately. 

caught your gaze early last year and saw something flicker in your eyes, a soft and innocent fascination he wasn’t used to seeing but immediately made him wanna ruin you - he wanted to ruin you and he didn’t even know you. 

he just knew that he’d watch you sometimes, discreetly and quickly, but enough to get his fix.

when he entered the cafeteria and made sure you were sitting there with your your face buried in a book. 

when you’d get up to buy lunch or a bottle of water, pull down your skirt or adjust your hair in a way that made him wanna touch you in a similar fashion.

when you’d leave five minutes early (in what he fantasized was so you wouldn’t be late) and send him one last glance. feel your soft, hesitant gaze on his face and meet it carelessly at the very last second.

just enough to watch you get shy and see the blush so similar to now cross your cheeks. 

he didn’t know your name and he, truthfully, never intended on learning it. because as much as he wanted to truly ruin you, he knew that’s all it was - a dark, twisted fantasy that someone like him shouldn’t act on. 

but then when he walked in and saw you here, the tutor he was dreading to meet in such a familiar position, he knew immediately that you were her. 

the cute girl from his lunch he wasn’t sure was an angel he wanted to protect or someone he wanted to fuck the shit out of. 

you weren’t sure what to think right now, not wanting to get your hopes up or think too much into his question - you were in my lunch last year, no?

think that you were special and he remembers you for reasons far too fantastical so you only nod, figuring he could be taking a guess; there’s only three lunch periods after all. 

“yeah. your hair was blue.”

a smirk crosses his face, chest warming at the fact you remembered him (even though the cocky, confident part inside of him knew you would). 

“yes it was,” he confirms, smiling down at you in a way that makes your heart jump and pound even more. ”i was hoping you’d remember. because i knew i recognized you from somewhere.”

you don’t know how you’re gonna do this. you can barely look at him, how are you supposed to talk to him and teach him twice a week and actually-

“i do wanna ask you something else though.”

your eyebrows pull together at the slight change in his voice, cocking your head to the side as you look at him.

he’s leaning in a little closer now, tiny pink strands hanging from his beanie as his brown eyes bore into yours. there’s still some amusement twinged in his eyes but it all looks very deceptive, unnerving a part of you that your stupid little heart is ignoring. 

he doesn’t allow you to ask him what before he starts talking again. 

“how about we keep these sessions the way they’ve been?” 

your eyebrow raises as confusion continues to plague you; your sessions haven’t even started? 

you haven’t even taught him anything, what could he possibly- but it’s the moment he opens his mouth to speak again, you realize that’s exactly the point. 

“you tell the teacher i’m coming to these and i’ll tell her what a good job you’re doing. how much i’m learning from you and shit.”

a smirk crosses his face when he peers into your eyes, catching the nervous, unsure look in them that only makes his smirk widen - you really are too cute. 

you, on the other hand, don’t know how you feel about his suggestion; you just know how you feel about lying. 

it doesn’t sit well with you and you don’t wanna get in trouble. 

the teacher has a class during this period so it’s not like she’d come down and check but it still makes you incredibly queasy. 

and if he needed tutoring in the first place, he obviously needs help. he’s a senior and needs to keep his grades up so he can graduate. it’d be your fault if he didn’t pass and you’d hate to be the reason he gets-

movement in front of you causes your thoughts to immediately stop, body freezing as you watch him lift his arm and bring his hand to your head. 

he moves a strand of hair from your face before smoothing out the slight crease in your forehead, biting down on his lip when he feels your skin is just as soft and smooth as he suspected. 

“what are you thinking so hard about?”

the deep, low tone of his voice and inquisitive look on his face is dangerous, almost as dangerous as the frantic beating of your heart and the way it’s about to pound out of your chest. 

it’s like he has electric sparks shooting from his hand, making you feel extremely exposed and vulnerable even though his touch is quite gentle and innocent.

“i.... it’s just....” you stutter out, taking a deep breath because you know you need to get it together fast. “you’ve been having trouble, right? that’s... why you needed tutoring in the first place.”

his eyebrow quirks up at your comment and for a split second, you think you’ve offended him. 

“i don’t want you to fail, yeonjun.”

he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on your words, realize that no one has so openly and sweetly said that to him before. or even cared enough to tell him that they don’t want him to fail.

he knows the teachers and counselors get him help because it’s their job. 

he knows his parents bitch and complain about it because they don’t want him repeating high school or wasting their money. 

he knows anyone who says anything to him about it is just doing it to make themselves look like a good person or friend. 

but you just so openly and sweetly said it, a deep concern in your eyes that he knows he can’t dwell on or his similar feelings are gonna arise from last year’s lunch.

where he’s about to throw caution to the wind and do anything and everything he wants to someone as innocent and sweet as you; but he can’t do that and he knows it, he knows that’s why these session can’t happen - on top of the fact that it’s not only you. 

he smokes during lunch and into this period. 

and there’s just no fucking way he’s spending that time suppressing his predatory attraction to you while learning about shit he doesn’t understand and being high as a kite. 

“you don’t gotta worry about me, angel,” he hums lowly, the name falling so naturally and smoothly from his mouth, he doesn’t even realize. “just do that for me, yeah? then you’ll have 7th free.”

you don’t hear much after he calls you angel, just that he’s asking you to do something for him and you’re blindly and dumbly nodding because he just called you that.

and it’s not until he smiles and thanks you deeply, looking over your face once more before saying that he’ll see you around that you realize you’re alone. 

sitting there as you watch yeonjun walk out the door without a glance back and come to terms with the fact you just agreed to lie to your teacher for him.

for almost a month, you were able to keep it up.

it was terrifying and debilitating and it almost sent you into a full blown identity crisis, but you’d somehow managed to do it.

that was until this afternoon, when your teacher cut through the cafeteria during lunch with a cup of coffee in hand and suspicion in the pit of her stomach. 

she saw you sitting there alone, your own books sprawled out around you as you wrote down notes before her short call of your name had your head snapping up. 

her eyes watching you quizzically made your own widen, stomach sinking and heart starting to pound as he she made her way over to you. 

“hi, y/n. where’s yeonjun today? it’s wednesday.”

the period only began ten minutes ago so it wouldn’t be weird for you to say that he wasn’t here yet. that he got held up after class and would be on his way shortly.

but you were just nervous and so bad at lying that you blurted out that he left to go to the bathroom, her eyes roaming the table in what you could only assume was for his books. 

“he took his backpack with him,” you tell her quietly, smiling softly in an effort to hide your guilt and distress. she only hums softly before nodding her head, taking your word for it because why wouldn’t she?

you’re good and studious and wouldn’t ever lie to a teacher.

but then when she comes down to the library next week during 7th period with her class, catching you at the table by yourself, you do it again. 

look her in the face and panic, make a scene of collecting your books as you tell her you forgot you guys were meeting in the cafeteria today - placing the blame on yourself.

you spent the rest of the period in the bathroom, collecting your thoughts and attempting to calm yourself down because you can’t keep lying. 

you haven’t even talked to yeonjun since the first time you met in the library, only seeing him in passing in the hallway or after school. 

he’ll send you a nod paired with his signature smirk and you’ll send him a small smile back, dipping your head before your cheeks flush at the mere sight of his eyes. 

you wish you hadn’t agree to this. 

you wish he didn’t effect you so much and you wish you could tell him you either need to actually help him or tell the teacher he doesn’t want to, because you’re losing your mind. 

you’re anxious and upset and not feeling good about yourself, barely able to look your teacher in the face these days. 

it’s on a friday before lunch, the bell ringing ready to dismiss you from her class, that it all comes crashing down.

she asked you to stay behind for a moment, everything about her face calm and neutral as you made your way over to her desk. 

you were anything but calm as you stood before her, that familiar feeling of dread and guilt rushing in your stomach as you smiled softly at her and asked if everything was okay. 

“yes, i just wanted to say what a great job you’re doing with yeonjun.”

you don’t even know what your face looks like but you know it’s probably the face of someone incredibly guilty, being praised for something you haven’t been doing and taking credit for it even though you know it’s wrong.

the feeling in your stomach confirms all of those feelings, tight and fluttery and buzzing with upset.

“o-oh?” 

“yeah,” she smiles tightly, looking over your face before speaking again. “we just took our third test and he did great. in the low 90s.”

a part of you desperately hopes that to be true, that maybe he started applying himself and somehow started to grasp the material all on his own. you smile at the thought that that’s the case, nodding your head as you, against your better judgment, keep up the facade. 

“i’m happy for him. he’s been working very hard. w-we studied at our last session for it, actually, and he really seemed to be understanding it.”

the contemplative look she gave you should’ve been the first sign that she knew you were full of shit, a quiet hum leaving her mouth. she holds your gaze until the moment you drop it, looking down at your white sneakers until she calls your name softly. 

“y/n... why have you been lying to me?” 

your lips press together as tears prick your eyes, all of the guilt and shame rushing through you at once. 

“he failed his test and i know you guys haven’t been meeting.”

she knows that because you can’t lie. she knows that because yeonjun still doesn’t know anything and all of the students she’s recommended to you have passed with flying colors. 

she knows because when you look up at her, your lip is trembling and it looks like you’re about to burst into tears.

“i... i’m so sorry.”

but even then, even after this moment right here, you’re still not gonna tell on yeonjun. because you don’t want him getting in trouble and you’re not gonna try to excuse your own behavior by admitting you agreed to it. 

you’re just as at fault as the older boy and you’re not gonna pretend you’re not. 

“why have you been lying? you could’ve just told me if you didn’t feel comfortable tutoring him or it wasn’t working out.”

because she knows yeonjun’s reputation. she knows he’s a year older and that you’re one of the shyer students in her class. she was hesitant at first to even put you two together but thought you’d be able to get through to him. 

and because you don’t know what to say, how to make up an excuse that puts neither of you at fault, you don’t say anything. just continue to apologize with teary eyes and a shaky voice before she eventually lets out a sigh. 

“take the next few days to figure it out. try to work on it with him or come to me and be honest that it’s not gonna work. but you didn’t have to lie to me, y/n. i’m a little disappointed in you.”

those words hit you harder than you care to admit, more tears building as you nod your head and quickly leave the room.

you knew from the beginning that it was wrong.

you never felt good about it and you knew it was bad but you still took part in it. she has every right to be disappointed in you and it feels like everything you worked so hard for has been ruined. 

now you look like a liar who can’t be trusted. 

now any time you tell her about another fellow student you’re working with, like the 7th grader you got through to or the 9th grader you helped get an a on their test, she’s gonna wonder if you really did that.

if you really helped them or if you’re just lying about that, too. telling them the answers to their homework or lazily explaining the concepts to them like you don’t work hard with each and every one of them. 

you’re surprised to see yeonjun when you make it to lunch a few moments later, your stomach still in knots and left over tears in your eyes. 

you don’t even realize you’re standing in front of his table until you hear one of his friend’s deep voices, a brash “who are you?” not even filling you with fear. 

you’re only looking at yeonjun pathetically, wide teary eyes and pouty lips in an effort to hold back more tears.

yeonjun’s dressed in his usual attire but you can’t even focus on that, his pink hair flawless against his black shirt and chain hanging around his neck as he adjusts it carelessly. 

soobin’s words catch his attention before your appearance does, looking at the front of the table and taking in the sight of wide, teary eyes and pouty lips; it pulls at something in his chest more than he cares to admit.

“yeonjun, can i talk to you for a second?” 

your voice is wobbly and timid and everything about it so incredibly embarrassing, the tears in your eyes obvious to all the young men around the table. 

you probably look like some girl he slept with and then left on read, begging him for another chance because your heart can’t take not being with him. because you got attached and now it feels like you need him. 

but, really, you just need him to let you tutor him. 

you can’t disappoint the teacher anymore and you had a job to do with him; you should’ve never told him that lying would be okay. 

“who’s this?” his friend asks with a smirk, his hair a bright shade of purple that looks striking next to yeonjun’s. 

“no one,” yeonjun’s quick to snap, looking at you before quickly getting up and guiding you out of the cafeteria by the small of your back. 

he walks down a secluded hallway and out to the garden of the school, looking at the tears in your eyes and feeling himself frown. 

“what happened?”

“i... she found out we haven’t been meeting,” you mumble, feeling silly and childish for crying in front of him about something like this; but you can’t help how you feel, you can’t help feeling sad and guilty about all of this. 

your heart drops when he actually smirks at you, looking over your face with a gaze that’s just as soft as it is amused.

you’re almost positive he’s about to laugh at you, call you a loser for crying over something as juvenile as getting caught in a silly lie and hurt your feelings even more. 

but then you’re quickly stiffening when his hand reaches up, gently brushing at your tears and marveling in just how soft your skin is. 

“that’s why you’re crying?” 

you’re embarrassed to say the least, any words you’d use to justify your reaction caught in your throat - and the smirk on his face isn’t helping either.

“you’re too pretty to cry over stupid shit like that, y/n.”

“it’s not stupid,” you respond, voice shaky and demeanor meek but still able to talk back. 

because it’s not stupid to you. wanting to be nice and studious and a good person isn’t stupid. not wanting to be a liar or someone who goes back on their word isn’t stupid. 

“she trusted me to help you and i lied to her.”

“we lied to her,” he says, voice and eyes teasing as he bends down to be on your level. you think he’s trying to make you feel better, a soft playfulness on his face that does anything but.

because you aren’t like him. 

you aren’t cool and feared and you can’t not care about how you effect other people. 

“why didn’t you just tell her it was my idea?” he asks suddenly, his eyes roaming your face in such a gentle but curious way. “she probably already knows that.”

“i... i didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

he rises to his full height as a small smile crosses his face, your soft voice and sweet words again effecting him far too much. he shouldn’t feel this way toward you and he shouldn’t want to be tutored now.

he shouldn’t be reaching out to touch the smooth skin of your cheek, a few stray tears making his lips fall into the smallest of frowns as you hear his voice the softest it’s ever been. 

“i wouldn’t get in trouble, angel.”

and there’s that word again. making your wet eyes widen and stomach to flutter, wondering how and why that simple word sounds so nice leaving his mouth. 

maybe because you’ve never been called that before. 

could only imagine being called that by someone, let alone him, in such a way. or maybe it’s because it is him, the boy you watched for months on end, forever fascinated by the way he carried himself. 

or maybe it’s because-

“but even if i did, how’s that your problem? why would you care?”

it’s a fair question you suppose but it doesn’t stop you from licking at your lips nervously, an all too familiar (and embarrassing) blush warming your cheeks. 

“i mean... it’s not,” you mutter shyly, not sure if you’re more intimidated by him calling you out or the look on his face. 

but even with those feelings, you’re still able to meet his gaze. 

take in the deep, dark intensity staring back at you in his brown eyes. they’re softer than one would expect, almost soft enough to make you forget what you were wanting to say. 

“but it’s just as much my fault as it is yours. so it didn’t seem fair.”

he smirks so he doesn’t say anything too brash, looking over the blush on your cheeks. his hand itches to move your hair behind your ear, a move he’d always do because he knew it was charming. 

knew it’d get him laid and get a girl’s heart fluttering.

but now he wants to do it just to touch you, feel your hair and skin and watch the blush on your cheeks deepen; but before he can do anything, he’s surprised to hear you speak anything.

“but it’s also not fair to keep lying,” you say softly, a broken little smile crossing your face as you look at him. “i actually really hated the lying... so if you don’t wanna do the sessions, i’m gonna tell her it’s not gonna work for us. but if you change your mind, i’m still free during those periods.”

at that moment, he had every intention of telling you no. 

he didn’t wanna give up his free time and energy to learn about things he’s absolutely sure he’s never gonna need to know after this. 

he didn’t wanna sit through the sessions high or not get high at all, the only way he’s able to cope with the last period of the school day knowing that he could roll a joint in his car with soobin. 

he didn’t wanna resist his obvious attraction and borderline fascination with you, act on it in a way he knows you’re not ready for and in a way he shouldn’t.

but when he walked in the library on monday, the time he told you he’d get back to you, you looked up and smiled at him. it was such a small, quick smile but everything about it called to him.

the twinge in your eyes and the way your hair fell, how even though your smile was small, it lit up your face and made you the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his life.

at that moment, you were positive he was about to tell you no.

that thanks but no thanks, he’s absolutely not gonna spend his free period being tutored by a younger student who only stutters and blushes in his presence. 

but when he sat down in front of you, a smirk on his face and eyebrow quirked, you couldn’t even hold back your look of surprise. 

a deep chuckle left his mouth when he caught your expression, the sound one of the best noises you’ve ever heard.  

“what? did you think i wasn’t coming back, angel?”

it took you a month to see yeonjun was just as confident and just as much trouble as you’d expected. 

he was far too charming and attractive and funny, a sarcasm and wit in him that made you muffle your giggles like a middle school girl. 

you weren’t used to talking playfully with the people you tutored, always so focused on getting the work done and making sure you were doing a good job explaining the material for them.

but yeonjun always made sure to delay it, attempt to get to know you before you could even discuss his homework or review sheet; and even though it hasn’t been easy, he’s been persistent in breaking down that wall you put up.

“did the flashcards help or do you think you’re more of a-”

“why don’t you ever go out?”

you suppress the urge to let out a sigh as you turn to look at him, his expressive eyes looking over your face.

you’ve gotten used to the feel of his gaze on you, almost like it was burning into your skin and leaving you exposed to the bone, but it didn’t help when you made eye contact.

looked into his eyes and saw him looking back at you so confidently and so easily, you couldn’t help but feel flustered.

“what do you mean?”

you know exactly what he means but it’s the only thing you could think to say.  

you know more than anyone how much time you spend alone in your room, watching tv series and reading books and reorganizing until you don’t even recognize your own space.

but it’s not that you’re bothered by it, that’s what you like going. not going out isn’t something you find bad or upsetting.

“i mean i see people from your grade at our parties a lot,” he hums lowly, his eyes leaving yours only to look at the soft, pastel pink material of your sweater.

“but you’re never there,” he continues, looking at you and cocking his head to the side questioningly. “why’s that?”

“well, i’m not...invited, i guess,” you mumble out, ignoring the way your cheeks warm even more. “i like sticking to myself. and staying home.”

the words and your tone bring a pout to his face, your eyebrow raising at the sight. why is looking at you like that?

“well now you have an invite,” he says, a teasing smile crossing his face. “come to my friend’s party tonight. soobin, do you know him? he has the purple hair?”

his voice is far too sweet and soft compared to the look in his eye, teasing and flirty and reminding you of just how dangerous he is. how he’s capable of having so many different sides, he nearly gives you whiplash. 

he’s the bad boy everyone thinks of him to be, skipping class and getting high and ditching tutoring lessons by smiling too kindly at a mousy little tutor. 

he’s the play boy you see come out when he looks at you a second too long, bringing a blush to your cheeks and stirring something very unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. 

but then he has a softer side you see sometimes, like when he decided to do these lessons in the first place because you cried to him and made yourself look even more pathetic. 

“i’m happy you decided to do these,” you say to him quietly. 

it was only your second session but you wanted him to know you were supportive of his decision. that, even if your word meant nothing (because, really, who are you to him?), you were proud of him.

it’s not easy for a senior to give up a period or two to learn about things they don’t understand; you probably wouldn’t wanna do it either, if school and learning didn’t come naturally to you. 

but for whatever reason, he agreed to do it.

“oh?” he hums, the trademark smirk on his face causing your cheeks to warm.

“yeah,” you smile softly, nodding your head before looking down at your clasped fingers. “i just... wanted you to know that. i understand why you didn’t want to but i think it’ll be good for-”

“why do you think i didn’t want to?” 

you look at him and for a split second you’re scared that you offended him. you suppose you don’t really know him well enough to make an assumption about him but you just assumed he-

“or, you know what, no,” he says, shaking his head as he pushes his chair closer to yours. 

he leans over the desk the same way he did during your first meeting last month, bringing your faces closer until you can smell cologne and the faint stench of cigarettes. 

“i wanna hear why you think i changed my mind?”

you quirk an eyebrow as you look at him, staring blankly until you realize he just plans on doing the same. 

“well... i guess it’s because you wanted to do good, right?” you ask meekly, unsure why he changed his mind but knowing that you were happy he did. “and maybe you didn’t wanna disappoint the teacher.”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth that has butterflies erupting in your stomach, watching as he shakes his head and meets your gaze again. 

“is that no it?” you ask bravely, your wide eyes and confused look causing his own stomach to do flips. “what’s so funny?”

but he’s quick to push it down, reach over to ruffle your hair in a way that makes your eyebrows pull together. 

“nothing, angel,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming yours. you see the exact moment there’s s witch behind them, a flirty and darker front he puts up melting into a soft, vulnerable look.

“but thank you for telling me that. because i’m happy i’m doing them, too.”

he has yet to tell you the reason all these weeks later, probably because you wouldn’t dare ask again, but whatever it was, must’ve greatly inspired him.

because over these weeks, he’s really been putting in the work. writing notes and listening to you and asking questions when he’s not making you blush or inviting you out just for you to decline. 

“so...?” he asks, a charismatic smile stretching across his face as he looks at you awaitingly. “what do you say? you wanna come?”

“no, thank you,” you smile politely, feeling bad for downright denying it but the offer feeling far too similiar to cliche movies you’ve watched. where the popular boy invites the nerd to a party and everyone laughs at her, questions why the hell she’s here and pulls some stupid, immature prank on her.

but this isn’t a movie and you don’t think you even have the capacity to show your face there, nor would anyone care that much to target you. 

dismissing him is easier than really considering you hanging out with him outside of this library. seeing him in a different setting and allowing him to see a different side of you.

not you looking at him pleadingly, your eyes moving to the paper in front of him as you ask him to do the next question.

“i’ll do it if you come tomorrow night,” he says, a sigh leaving your mouth as you look at him in frustration.

“yeonjun...”

because if there’s another thing you’ve learned about yeonjun, it’s that he knows you have trouble saying no to him. it could because he sees the naivety in you, seeing something good in him at times and thinking you’ll really be able to help him.

but maybe he hopes you can help him, too. be a person he can lean on and know 100% is gonna be there for him. 

“c’mon, y/n, don’t you wanna have a little fun?”

“i don’t think i’d find it fun,” you mutter honestly, a pout forming on your lips that has him swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wants to kiss you in this moment.

just brush his lips gently against yours, hear the little sounds and see your reactions that he knows will be the best thing he’s ever had. hold your waist and feel your skin against his that while it’s juvenile to him would be so much to you. 

“you don’t know until you try, y/n,” he mutters lowly, looking up at him and seeing his gaze is, as usual, unrelenting. “have you ever been to a party before?”

of course you’ve been to parties before; birthday parties, graduation parties, wedding parties - but you’ve never been to a high school house party. 

and are you about to tell him that? absolutely not. 

“of course i have,” you mumble, a smirk on his lips because he can tell by the way you avert eye contact that you’re lying. “but it’s just... especially with kids from school who i don’t know? i don’t think it’d be fun, yeonjun.”

“but i’d be there?” he whines, something very uncharacteristic of someone who is known to be a bad boy. “isn’t that fun enough?”

you let out a groan as you frown again, tapping the notebook in front of you lightly as you meet his close gaze. 

“your test is next week, yeonjun. can you please focus on that right now?” 

it’s not until the next session that he thinks to use that to his advantage, supposing he can stand one more party without your presence as he smiles over at you. 

“let’s make a deal, angel.”

you know when he calls you that that you’re not about to talk about school or his test, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“if i get 100 on my test next week, you come to one of soobin’s party.”

you have to suppress a groan at the way he’s not letting up on this damn party, biting down on your lip as you do your best to give him a serious look.

“you should get the 100 because you want to, not because you’re trying to-”

his finger on your lips is the next thing you’re only able to focus on.

not the pounding of your heart or increasing anxiety at the thought of a party or  the fact that there’s more people in the library than usual today. 

you’re only aware of him touching you, a quiet “sh,” leaving his mouth that has your stomach fluttering far more than you care to admit. 

he meets your wide-eyed gaze and smirks at the look on your face. his finger presses down on your bottom lip gently, dragging it slowly and watching as it pops back up. 

there’s an almost pained look in his eyes that you can’t make out, his eyes never moving from your lips before meeting your gaze again. 

“i want a lot of things, y/n,” he says, his voice deep and gruff and making your heart pound even more as he looks to your mouth again. 

you feel your lower stomach swoop at the way he bites down on his bottom lip, his other hand ghosting over to rest of your knee. 

your uniform skirt comes just above your knees, becoming higher when you sit and perfectly exposing your tight covered legs. his large hand rests on your knee like it completely belongs there, like he’s gonna dare anyone to tell him it doesn’t belong there and to take his hands off you.  

“things i probably shouldn’t tell you yet so your pretty little face doesn’t become beat red,” he mumbles in your ear, his warm breath fanning onto your skin and making a shaky, embarrassing sigh leave your mouth.  

but just him realizing that makes your cheeks flush. everything about his closeness and his words and the way he’s just saying these things to you right in the middle of the library. 

the way his hand is slipping inside of your knee, fingers resting on the inside of your thigh that has some dirty, repressed part of you desperate to spread your legs just a little bit more for him.

feel more of his skin on you and heighten the feeling building in your lower half. 

“but i can assure you, none of them are an on my test. but if that means getting you to spend time with me outside of this fucking hellhole, i’m gonna do it.”

just as fast as his hand was on your thigh, it’s gone and cupping your face. holding on to your jaw as he makes you look at him and has a look of softness and amusement but also darkness and arousal. 

it probably has every bit to do with the fact you let out a tiny squeal when he did so, your eyes widening and legs now spreading apart ever so slightly. 

“do you understand now?” 

you should have the power here being his tutor but you don’t. you’re the cat and he’s the mouse, you’re the prey and he’s the predator and you’re not about to do anything to stop it. 

“ye-yes yeonjun,” you say, a groan almost leaving his mouth at you how compliant you are already. 

and it’s that reaction right there that has him skipping the party on friday and spending his weekend doing something he never thought he’d do his senior year - making flashcards and studying his ass off. 

you remember being incredibly proud when, two weeks later, yeonjun came to your session with his graded test paper in hand. 

he looked happy and accomplished and ready to take on the world, a warm feeling blooming in your chest at the look on his face.

“how’d you do?” you smiled up at him, your eyes soft and expression excited.

when he flipped the test over to reveal his 100% test, your first instinct was to raise your hand for a high five. it’s what you always did with the younger kids, praising them and sharing their excitement over a test that they worked incredibly hard on.

so when you did the same thing to him, quickly realizing he’s not one of your 7th grade students but an absurdly attractive man, your cheeks flushed and you stuttered out a “sorry.”

but he only chuckled lightly and high-fived you immediately, lacing your fingers from across the table before you could pull away. the action caught you off guard more than your nerdy high-five, eyes looking down to your conjoined hands before you gave him an incredulous look.

“what are you doing?” you squeak out, fearing that your hand’s about to get clammy and your heart may explode.

“don’t tell me you don’t remember our deal?”

you realized before you even entered soobin’s house that you made a grave mistake. 

music was pounding through the open windows of the house and a few people were littered across the lawn. a drunken couple sloppily making out while another one fought about someone dancing with a stranger all before ten p.m.

you truly intended on never coming, telling yeonjun you seriously could not go through with this and had to flake out on your deal. 

but he’d been so proud of his test. not just because it meant you were coming but because it showed him he was actually capable - or at least, that was the story he told you.

and whether you were silly and naive to believe him was on you since now, you’re walking into a party looking like someone’s holding a weapon to your back. 

“so i’ll see you tonight, right?” 

you were still hesitant even during 7th period this afternoon, looking at yeonjun with a pained expression. 

“yeonjun... i really don’t know if i can do it.”

“why not? i’m gonna be there, just for you.”

you swallow down a bold, sassy remark that he’s gonna be there anyway, probably to remind your fluttering heart not to think too much into his comment. 

but is him being there enough to make you go? or is that scaring you more? seeing him outside of school, around his friends, in an environment where he can be even more bold and daring. 

after all, being in the school library didn’t stop him from creeping his hand up your inner thigh.

“i don’t just wanna follow you around all night and bother you like a lost puppy,” you whine quietly, knowing this was part of the deal but seeing just how impossible it is. 

“how could you think you’d bother me?” he asks, his head cocked to the side just as the bell ringing interrupts you. 

you let out a sigh as you stand to gather your books. you can feel his watchful eyes on you, attempting to ignore it as you silently get ready to go to next period. 

he mistakes you walking away from the table to throw out a stray sheet of paper as you leaving, quickly rising from his feet and pulling you back into him. your body collides with his before he presses you against the table, the library nearly empty as the loud chatter of students can be heard from the hallways. 

“were you gonna leave without answering me?”

his voice is deep and has a certain dominating darkness behind it, your eyes raising to his just in time to see him cock an eyebrow up. 

“i... i was gonna throw this out,” you answer dumbly, raising the crumpled up paper behind your back. 

he hums thoughtfully before taking it from your hand, crumbling it up and tossing it in the nearest garbage can. he misses but makes no attempt to pick it up, keeping you pinned between him and the table with no qualms about it. 

“you missed,” you point out obviously. 

a smirk crosses his lips as he lets out a hum, bringing his hand up to smooth out a piece of your hair. 

“i’m gonna ask again,” he mumbles lowly in your ear, his large body and deep voice quickly making your breaths quicken. 

“how could you think you’d bother me when i spent my entire weekend studying for that test?” he asks, his hands snaking down your body before gently resting onto your hips. 

him pulling you closer causes another shaky sigh to leave you, your low, warning mumble of his name only making him smirk. he shouldn’t like this so much, how you sound so sweet and flustered and are allowing him have you like this. 

“that was all for you, angel. not for me or the teacher or my parents or anyone else. just you. because i wanna hang out with you.”

you swallow the nervous lump in your throat as you raise your eyes to meet his, the playfulness that was in them turning the slightest bit dark. something in them making you lick over your lips as you try to calm your racing heart.

“you won’t even know when i’m there. how am i gonna find you?”

it’s the worst excuse you could have ever thought of but you’re not surprised since yeonjun was pressed against your body and breathing down your neck the way he was. 

he chuckled lowly like he also knew it was the worst excuse you could’ve thought of, taking your phone from the table. he slides it open and looks to you, his eyebrow raised when you just continue to stare at him blankly. 

then you remember, like every other teenager in the world, you have a lock on your phone.

“0319.”

he smirks at how easily you give it up, tapping a few buttons on the screen before handing it back to you.

“i put my number in there. text me when you’re there, 

so even with a pit in your stomach and anxiety coursing through your veins, you go to his new contact name and type out “i’m here.”

you’re faintly aware of the fighting couple’s voices growing louder, his deep groans mixed with her higher pitched whines causing you to look over. 

“i saw you touch her waist!” the girl yelps, her hands on her hips with a very obvious look of distaste. “so obviously you didn’t mind! maybe you should dance with her the rest of the night!”

“maybe i will, since you’re so god damn annoying,” he yells back, your lips falling into a frown. 

the girl meets your gaze and it’s then you recognize her as a girl in your grade. she’s from the popular group but is one of the nicer ones, always smiling politely at other students and listening to teachers during their lessons. 

she almost looks embarrassed to be caught in this scenario, a broken smile crossing her face before her boyfriend notices your gaze; you don’t recognize him, so you think he must be in yeonjun’s grade. 

“what the fuck are you looking at?”

your cheeks flush as you immediately snap your head away, quickly becoming scared and uncomfortable. you can hear her chastising him but just want to be away as soon as possible, the prospect of this drunk man cursing at you somehow worse than a house full of strangers.

yeonjun hasn’t answered your text but you still take a deep breath as you walk toward the front door, immediately hit with the scent of alcohol, b.o. and weed. there’s loud music blaring from the speakers and making the house vibrate, bodies littered throughout the house as they all talk loudly and dance.

your eyes scan the room for his pink hair, stomach sinking when you see no sign of him. 

is he even here yet? he told you he was coming at nine but could he be running late? or did he forget entirely, ignore your text as a joke and now you have to-

“hey. how do i know you?” 

the first thing you see is purple hair and you’re immediately thrown back into the crowded cafeteria all those months ago. when you so boldly went up to yeonjun with tears in your eyes and he was quick to pull you away. 

you remember the boy in front of you asking who you were, the same curiosity in his eyes now as you stand in his house looking extremely uncomfortable and out of place. 

“i... my name’s y/n,” you begin quietly, the boy barely able to hear you over the music and loud chatter. “i had to talk to yeonjun during lunch once so i went up to your table and-”

“well shit, so you’re her.”

there’s a smirk on his face and gleam in his eye, like he knows something you don’t. you cock your head to the side in confusion, watching as his smirk widens and he nods his head approvingly. 

“his tutor, right? he told me about you.”

“oh... yeah,” you say quietly, because yeah, that would make sense - his friends probably wonder where he goes during his free period now; there’s a few beats of awkward silence before he speaks up again.

“so what are you doing here?”

your cheeks flush and you wish you could blame the stuffiness of his house, looking to him as you stutter out that yeonjun invited you. 

“did he now,” he hums, his eyes roaming your face and stopping on your cheeks. he doesn’t know what exactly yeonjun wants from a girl like you but he has to be honest in saying he sees the appeal. 

“follow me then, sweetheart. you want a drink?”

you shake your head before following behind him, making eye contact with one too many intimidating boys and girls before landing on your feet. everyone’s in pretty heeled boots and crop tops, dancing and singing and grinding like they don’t have any cares in the world. 

like they’re not terrified and dreading being here, even with the knowledge that the attractive boy they may or may not have developed a crush on is lingering  around.

“oh, yeonjunnie,” you hear soonbin whine sarcastically, your eyes shooting up just in time to see his familiar black attire. his pink hair is poking out of his black beanie, the chain around his neck hanging low as he turns to look at his friend. 

“i found someone for you,” the boy says before yeonjun can respond, bringing you around to the front. 

you’re in the middle of both boys who tower over you and you’re not sure if you’ve ever felt more threatened; especially because when yeonjun looks at you, you’d think he didn’t know your name. 

because he doesn’t give you a hi or a smile or even a flicker of recognition in his gaze.

he looks at you and simply says, “well, shit, i didn’t think you’d actually come,” with such a handsomely conniving smirk, you’re not sure what to think in that moment. 

because it seems as if all your silly, irrational fears are coming true in this moment. very much like the movies you’ve seen and scenarios you’ve pictured where you’re humiliated at a party or by the popular boy. 

but his smile and his words seemed so genuine. he’s seemed so genuine getting to know you these past few months, how could he have faked it so well? 

the way your face drops and cheeks warm cause his heart to break a little, still all too aware of the questioning eyes and lingering looks thrown your way. 

“didn’t you invite her?” soobin questions, looking between you and him and noting how embarrassed you look.

“i did,” is all yeonjun responds. no rhyme or reason or answer as to why he did. just that he did. so it could very well be a joke. 

“well then, welcome, y/n,” soobin responds, reaching his hand out to you. “i’m soobin, in case we weren’t formally introduced.”

you give him a tight smile, yeonjun’s piercing gaze on yours as you take soobin’s large hand in yours. 

“nice to meet you.”

your voice is soft and shaky and brings more heat to your cheeks, wanting to die when soobin rips up one of his friends for you to sit on the couch.

“i don’t mind standing,” you insist, shaking your head and offering a small smile to the other boy.

“no, no, pretty girls shouldn’t stand,” soobin says with a smirk, catching the way yeonjun’s eyes roll and jaw clenches; it all goes unnoticed to you, though, too busy sitting down and looking at your hands nervously folded into one another.

“so y/n,” soobin says, sitting down across from you and leaning forward the same way yeonjun does during his tutoring sessions. “what’s it like to tutor this idiot?”

his words are laced with affection, as are his actions as he ruffles yeonjun’s beanie playfully, but they still make you frown. still make you wanna defend him in front of others and ensure that he’s not an idiot. 

“he’s great actually,” you say softly, lips pulled up in a soft smile. “very smart and learns fast. definitely not an idiot.”

you look to the boy to see him staring blankly at you, heart sinking in your chest; you’re becoming increasingly uncomfortable in this environment and a big part of it as to do with his attitude. 

you weren’t expecting him to be overly excited, kiss your feet upon seeing you arrive or proclaim an irrational excitement. but it kind of seems as if, right now, he could care less that you’re here.

“ahh, that’s cool then,” soobin smiles. “you’re a year younger than us, right?” 

you can only hum a small “mhm,” yeonjun’s gaze burning into your face causing you to look at him. 

it’s the same soft, wide-eyed look you give him during your sessions but right now, it’s making him feel far too unsettled. like people seeing him with you are gonna show them a different side to him he has yet to acknowledge. 

“why’d you decide to come?” he asks, not being able to stop the words; he already knows the answer, he basically begged you too. 

and because you’ve been nothing but sweet and soft to him, he’s not surprised when you don’t throw it in his face that he’s the one who enforced this. that he studied for nights to pass that test so you’d feel inclined to come. 

“i thought it’d be fun,” you say sweetly, i thought we’d be able to have fun outside of school like you claimed to have wanted. “i don’t really come to parties a lot.”

“i can’t imagine why, you seem really sweet and funny,” soobin says, a flirty smile on his face that makes a blush creep up on your cheeks; he’s so bold and confident, you don’t know both of them do it. “you should come to more.”

seeing that shade of pink on your cheeks from someone else angers yeonjun more than he cares to admit, throwing his friend a dirty look before growling at him to shut up. 

“why? she’s sweet, isn’t she? maybe i need to be tutored too,” soobin says, throwing a smile your way as he plops down in the spot next to you. “what periods are you free? maybe we can go out for lunch and have a session.”

“i... i’m not allowed to leave for lunch.”

that’s a school rule - only seniors are allowed to leave for lunch. but with the way soobin laughs and yeonjun hold back a smirk, the other people littered around also letting out soft chuckles, it appears that’s something not many people follow. 

“you can with me,” soobin assures, patting your knee softly as he sends another charming smile your way. “i’ll make sure you don’t get in trouble.”

you smile in an effort to downplay your embarrassment and discomfort, an annoyed sigh leaving yeonjun as he rises from his seat. he looks even more big and broad surrounded by these people for some reason, in his element where he fits in like a glove.

it’s even more evident that you don’t fit in here - at least in the library, that’s a place you belong. the quiet, the smell of books, the solidarity, a keen sense of-

“i’m getting another drink.”

yeonjun’s words are short and deep as he quickly gets up, hauling ass to the kitchen before anyone can even respond to him. his friend must see the look on your face too, a small pout on your lips that has the boy frowning next to you.

“don’t worry about him, he’s grouchy tonight,” soonbin says reassuringly, wrapping his arm around you affectionately. “some girl stood him up.”

the first thing you feel is a blow to your chest, an unfamiliar pain right in the center as you register soobin’s words; he begged you to come tonight but was waiting for another girl.

probably one of the many college girls, who are prettier and funnier and more charismatic than you.

so, really, you can’t be surprised. you were silly to think he liked you in the way you thought, in the way you’ve come to discover you like him because he makes you smile and laugh and feel warm inside.

but even so, you’re hurt.

you’re hurt and embarrassed and feel humiliated even though no one knows the real reason you came here and stepped way out of your comfort zone. thank god for that, you think, because it’d be even more horrible if people knew you came for yeonjun, all while he was waiting for someone else.

“oh,” you manage to squeak out, a soft look on your face despite the pain and embarrassment inside of you. “that’s too bad.”

“yeah,” soobin says, looking at you with sympathetic eyes you know you can’t trust. “he’ll be good, though.”

you bet he will, you think, because that’s just who choi yeonjun is. he doesn’t care who he strings along or makes believe is special - he’s gonna do what he wants when he wants it with no regard for how it effects other.

even a sweet little meek tutor he was able to get under his thumb the first day he met her.

when yeonjun returns, he can tell immediately that something is wrong with you. your hands are clasped together and you’re biting the inside of your cheek, fiddling nervously as you listen in on the conversation around you.

you meet his gaze and he’s quick to look away, one because he got caught and two because he doesn’t know if he can handle the look in your eye right now.

you’re always almost about to make him crack, break down into being someone worthy of you, and he doesn’t wanna do that tonight. doesn’t wanna show everyone here that, if he wants to, he can be a worthy person.

you’re a second away from breaking before soobin asks if you wanna dance, a tight smile on your face as you shake your head.

“i... i’m actually gonna go outside for a sec,” you say, knowing full well you’re gonna book it to your car and never return. “it’s hot in here. i need some air.”

“there’s plenty of air in here, angel,” soobin remarks, your eyes widening at the term.

it sounds different coming from his mouth, not as deep and melodic and it doesn’t let off a bunch of butterflies in your stomach. you’re too busy giggling softly as you shake your head that you don’t hear the deep, low noise of distaste leave yeonjun’s mouth.

you only see him grab soobin’s arm when he tries to get up to follow you, a lowly growled “let her go,” that makes your eyebrows pull together; you don’t know if he’s trying to hurt your feelings on purpose but he’s certainly doing it a lot tonight.

it feels like you can finally take a deep breath when you get outside, no one around except the chilly air and starry sky. it makes you feel a bit better, sinking down on the stairs and humming contently when your hands meet the cold concrete.

you passed by the dancing people and laughing, smiley couples inside and felt silly for coming here. silly for thinking yeonjun wanted you in his life without him getting something out of it.

what would he want from you anyway? what could you possibly give him when he’s already had so much better?

tears prick your eyes and you bury your face in your hands, taking deep calming breaths so the harsh winter air doesn’t feel like it’s burning you.

you avoided boys and feelings like this for so long and with good reason; you’re too sensitive and naive and always try to see the good in people.

you’ll put your feelings aside in order to spare someone else - you saw it in the beginning, pushing down your qualms about lying to the teacher to further appease a boy you found cute.

and when you put it like that, it sounds really fucking stupid. it sounds like, maybe, you’re just-

“didn’t i tell you you’re too pretty to cry over stupid things?”

your first instinct is to turn around when you hear his voice, his tall, dark figure looming behind you. 

you should probably smile shyly or say that you’re not crying but you can only stay silent, turning back around to avoid his intense gaze and your own humiliation. 

the same way he should probably go inside and carry on with his night the way he usually would. drinking and flirting and dancing before he probably brought someone home or into the bathroom. 

when he moves behind you, that’s what you think he’s about to do. 

but then he’s walking around your sitting frame and bending down to you, looking up at you from his crouched position. his hand reaches out to touch your face, forcing it up so you can only stare at him with teary eyes and flushed cheeks.

there’s a frown on his face as he runs his thumb across your cold cheek, his gentle touch a shocking contrast to his harsher appearance. 

“what happened?”

what happened? you think, not used to feeling so snarky and hurt. what happened was that he got your hopes up, was nice to you and invited you and kept making you feel special, just for them to come crashing down.

but then the more you think about it, the silence between you getting longer and longer, the guiltier you feel - because your feelings aren’t his fault.

you taking his looks and kindness and lingering touches for something deeper was a mistake. you know the kind of boy he is and have still been foolish enough to fall for him.

“nothing,” you grumble, a wet, humorless laugh leaving you as you shake your head. “i’m just being silly.”

but you can’t look up from your feet, your eyes roaming the cracks in the concrete, and that’s how he knows you’re lying; that, and because he knows he was being a fucking dick. 

but seeing you in this environment was weird for him. seeing people look at you and look at him, specifically soobin who got it out of him that he might like you, was unfamiliar for him.

the same way this was unfamiliar for you - which is why he wants you to talk to him. 

“what happened, y/n?” he asks, voice a tad bit harsher and deeper as he cranes his neck down. he hears your harsh, nervous intake of breath and resists the urge to reach out and touch you. 

you need to answer him before he can touch you. 

but you never do. not after ten seconds and not after a minute, prompting him to let out a sigh and pop his neck to the side. your face pulls into a grimace at the crack that sounds through the air. 

his cold hand touching your face causes you to jump, your eyes meeting and a lump forming in your throat; his eyes fool you too much and that’s exactly the problem here.

“talk to me, angel, c’mon.”

your eyes start to burn when a harsh wind passes, tears stinging your eyes and coldness rushing over your face. why does he have to keep calling you that? why does his voice have to sound so sincere and why does he have to look at you the way he is right now?

like he cares so much and hopes those tears aren’t because you’re sad.

“there’s nothing to talk about, yeonjun,” you blurt out, anger and humiliation seep into your tone before you can stop it. you let out a sigh as you try to get it together, taking a few calming breaths before shaking your head. 

“just go back inside, okay? i’m going home. t-thank you for inviting me but i-”

“i don’t want you to go.”

he blurts the words so loud and fast, it even sounds a little awkward to your ears. but he sounds and looks almost desperate, your eyebrows pulling together and heart sinking as you take a deep breath.

because you know you can’t stop the next words from tumbling out of your mouth.

“well, it doesn’t seem like you want me here.”

your words are soft and quiet but they still physically pain his chest, his eyes roaming your face as he brings them to your cold cheeks. he wipes under your eye when wetness forms, the cold biting wind rushing around you both. 

“i want you,” he reassures quietly, his voice just as low and gravely as he speaks hushly to you; he thinks it’s the most honest and true thing he’s ever said to someone. “i want you more than you know.”

“then why are you acting like that?” you question sweetly, the pout on your lips nearly making him groan and cover them with his. “you were being... mean. i felt like... you didn’t want me here at all. or didn’t want people to know you invited me.”

your words break his heart but he also knows they’re true, his fingers caressing your face gently. he notices then how freezing and red it is, looking you over and rising from his feet.

you look disappointed that he’s gonna leave, your face falling and eyebrows furrowing before he reaches his hand down to you. 

“let’s talk in my car,” he clarifies, nodding his head toward his vehicle. “it’s freezing out here.”

you bite down on your lip, contemplating it for a few seconds before another harsh gust of wind passes. you let out a sigh as you take his hand, grateful to enter his car the moment you sit down. 

he turns it on and the engine roars to life, his fingers reaching out to turn on your heated seat. 

the next few moments only consist of the car’s engine warming up as you wait for the heat to kick on, you and yeonjun stealing glances back and forth at each other; you both miss the others gaze by a few seconds and if anyone were to be watching, it’d be obvious you both were nervous right now. 

dancing along the line you’re both nervous to cross for entirely different reasons - you because you somehow don’t think he reciprocates those feelings and him because he knows you deserve more. 

but in this moment, he decides he has to be selfish. watching you with a flush in your cheeks and your lip drawn into your mouth.

“i like you, y/n. that’s why i wanted you here,” his voice says, breaking the silence in a way that almost seems more terrifying. “but that’s also why i didn’t... want people knowing.”

your eyebrows pull together and immediately your mind goes to him being embarrassed. embarrassed that you’re younger and quiet and that no one really knows who the hell you are.

he’s infamous and cool and a senior, obviously he should be with someone similiar. like a popular girl in his grade or a college girl or maybe even a the girl who stood him up.

“not because of you, angel, but because of...”

“you?” you interrupt, a snark in your tone neither of you except; but you’ve heard this line one too many times, not expecting to ever ever hear it real life, let alone toward you. 

“it’s not you, it’s me?” you ask, a gentle, faux smile on your face as you shake your head at him. “is that what you’re about to say?”

he clenches his jaw so he doesn’t smirk, resisting the urge to laugh as he looks you over carefully. it’s obvious your smile’s fake because it doesn’t meet your eyes, the teary glint in them every bit sad as they are frustrated. 

but of course, you’re too sweet to treat him as he deserves. 

his hand reaches out to grab your chin, his thumb and pointer finger on either side as he forces your gaze to his. his smirk comes through when he hears your sharp intake of breath, tongue peeking out to lick at his lips. 

“if you let me talk, angel, you’d know what i was about to say,” he hums quietly, his breath fanning into your face at his closeness. it smells of mint and beer, it should probably be gross but surprisingly isn’t.

his words successfully stir you into silence, partially from fear and partially because the look in his eye has caused you to grow warm all over; and once he sees that, he begins to speak again.

“i didn’t want people knowing because i didn’t want anyone fucking with you, y/n. because if they did, i’d have to ruin them and then everyone would see it.”

“see what?” you ask quietly, the air between you thick and buzzing as you hold his gaze. 

hold it so adamantly and intensely, you’re barely able to register him leaning closer. inch by inch by inch, until his lips are pressed against yours and you’re kissing choi yeonjun in the front seat of his car. 

you’re stiff and awkward and don’t really know what to do but it’s fine because he laces his fingers in your hair and pulls you closer. parts your lips with his tongue which causes you to kiss him back with a slow, unsure pace.

but it only causes him to smile, retracting his tongue and keeping it sweet before he pulls back and rests his head on your forehead. 

“why i decided to spend my free period during senior year getting fucking tutored, angel,” he chuckles lowly, his hand running through your hair gently. 

the soft look in his eye causes you to swallow nervously, words caught in your throat as you stare at him wide-eyed.

“i... i thought you... you said it was...” you let out a shaky breath as you try to get your thoughts together, completely unable to remember your conversation from weeks ago. when he cryptically asked you your thoughts about just why he agreed to stop lying to the teacher and do the sessions; 

so instead, your cheeks warm and you’re hit with the reminder that you just had your first kiss with him. and that you were probably absolutely terrible at it. 

“that was my first kiss. i... i’m sorry if it was bad.”

a small smile crosses yeonjun’s face as he shakes his head at you, thumb dragging down your cheek gently to feel the warm, smooth skin of your cheek. 

“it was perfect, angel, you’re perfect.” he mumbles, your eyes widening and heart stuttering as a ball forms in your throat. “so perfect that i thought you stood me up and weren’t coming. so let’s go on date. a real date, this time.”

in the beginning of the school year, you would’ve never imagined your study sessions with yeonjun would be turning into dinner dates; but as you sit in your room and get ready, your heart pounding and palms sweaty, that’s exactly what’s happened. 

it’s the fourth date you guys are going on and you can officially say that you really, really have feelings for yeonjun. you’re still shy and nervous around him but it’s only because he’s more comfortable with you too.

he takes your hand with ease and laces your fingers together that he was meant to do that.

he’ll shamelessly peck a kiss to your lips and deepen it at any given time, your cheeks burning and embarrassed voice telling him to stop when he did it in the middle of the bowling alley last week. 

he’ll watch you and smile at you and just touch you with the softest of intentions, you almost can’t believe this is the bad boy everyone claims is so mean and heartless. 

you say almost because you still don’t do it in school. it’s still a somewhat... secret fondness you have for one another. he’ll play with your fingers under the table during sessions and wink at you in the hallway but that’s about it. 

he’d probably never kiss you in the hallway or cafeteria but you also wouldn’t want that. it would draw way too much attention and probably leave your face with a permanent, embarrassing flush. 

“are you going out?” you hear your mom ask, her head peeking in before a smile brightens her face. “aw, you look beautiful, y/n. yeonjun must be coming soon.”

the topic of dating had been undeniably embarrassing with your parents, mostly because they couldn’t believe you were showing an interest. but they welcomed yeonjun with open arms, insisting to meet him at the front door to ensure he was a nice boy.

and oh had he really showed you just how charming he could be. 

“mom,” you whine in embarrassment, her laugh echoing in your room as he throws her arms up defensively. 

“you guys be careful. it’s supposed to rain soon.”

you nod your head as you finish getting ready, smoothing over your hair once more before your phone vibrates against your desk. he texted you that he was on his way with a smiley face and heart, sending one back before looking at yourself in the mirror. 

you don’t know what the hell he sees you or why he likes you but you know if you dwell on it, you’ll talk yourself out of everything. convince yourself that this is all a joke and he’s gonna turn around and say he pities you. 

even though, when you brought this up to him, he was quick to calm those worries. 

��c-can i ask you something, yeonjun?”

you were walking home from the movies with your hands intertwined.

the cold, harsh winter had blossomed into spring, the night air growing less frigid; there was a still a bit of a chill but it was nothing a jacket and yeonjun’s warm body couldn’t fix.

“of course, angel,” he mumbles lowly, a small smile on his face as you stop in your tracks. he’s quick to follow, eyebrow raising and body turning so he can look down at you. 

he cocks his head to the side when you don’t speak for a few seconds, his lips falling into a pout as his hand tightens in yours.

“you okay?” he asks quietly, thumb tracing small circles into your skin. 

you lick over your lips nervously, feeling silly for the need to ask this question but it’s one you can’t help. it wracks your mind over and over again and it feels like you’re about to-

“why do you like me?” you blurt out, unaware you even said the words until you notice yeonjun’s face morph into one of surprise. 

his mouth opens and closes for a moment, brows pulled together as he tries to make sense of your words.

“i mean, what’s not to like?” he asks softly, taking you by the hips and pulling you closer to him. 

you’re in the middle of the sidewalk but there’s no one around, the sky dark and streets desolate as you both meet each others gazes - yours full of doubt and his full of confusion. 

“i... i don’t know,” you mumble sheepishly, looking down at your intertwined hands. “i just... it doesn’t really make sense.”

“why? because i’m older? because you’re smart and i’m not?” he teases, your panicked eyes immediately meeting his.

“no! more like the exact opposite,” you clarify as you shake your head. “because you’re popular and attractive and charming and i’m just.... not.”

his eyes roam your face and his heart sinks when he sees the doubt and nerves continue to grow. how you really feel this way about yourself and are pondering the idea that someone like him would want someone like you, when really, it should be the opposite. 

“y/n, i’m lucky that you’re settling for me,” the pink-haired boy laughs out, squeezing your hips reassuringly. “you’re good and sweet and so fucking beautiful. i wanted you the second i saw you, you know, but knew i shouldn’t.”

your eyes widen at his words, shock behind them that has a laugh bubbling from his chest. 

“in lunch. i noticed you the first day and thought you were an angel,” he says, the nickname he always calls you particularly getting the butterflies going tonight. 

“i could tell that you were good. you just have this.. aura, y/n, and i knew that i would taint it. i knew you deserved someone way better. because i’m not good like you.”

"yes you are,” you respond immediately, a frown appearing on your face as you shake your head. “you pretend not to be, but you are, yeonjun. i can see it.”

“you can see it because i wanna be good around you, baby. i wanna be someone good for you.”

tears prick your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, overwhelmed and unsure of how to respond to that. he smiles softly as he takes in your face, leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead. 

he inhales your sweet, vanilla smell while you take in his cologne and faint scent of cigarettes, swallowing down the lump and praying you don’t burst into tears on the spot. 

“don’t doubt yourself, angel,” yeonjun mumbles against your head, puling you closer until your flush against his warm, broad body. “i’m the one who got lucky here.” 

even though it meant wasting away in the fucking library. 

“the library isn’t that bad, yeonjun,” you whine ten minutes later in his car, heat blasting and music low as he drives to the restaurant. one hand’s on the steering wheel while the other’s laced with yours, your body turned in his black leather seat to look over and chastise him. 

he confessed to you that your sessions were the first time he’d ever stepped foot in that library; he hadn’t even been positive that school had a library until he walked through the door that day. 

“it smells like dust and the librarian’s a bitch.”

“she is not!” you squeal, smacking his arm lightly as you throw him a chastising look. “she’s just a little... misunderstood. people don’t respect her space.”

even you can admit sometimes she does go a little overboard; you saw her once lecture a younger student for a half hour because they mistakenly put a book on the wrong shelf. 

“you’re too nice, baby. maybe even a little biased, since you’re the only one she seems to tolerate.”

“probably because i’m there every day,” you tease lightly, your eyes widening playfully before a loud crack of thunder causes you to jump in your seat.

your mom hadn’t been kidding when she said there was gonna be a storm tonight. you’d ran to yeonjun’s car shielding the top of your head, rain pelting down and wind howling as your mom’s “be careful!” got drowned out.

and right now, it only seemed to be getting worse. 

“you scared of thunder?” 

you hear the smirk in yeonjun’s voice and resist the urge to stick your tongue out, not about to admit that, yes, you’re nearly an adult but still terrified of rain and thunder. 

“no, of-of course not,” you grumble, snatching your hand away from his. “it just surprised me.”

yeonjun looks over at you and sees the nervousness all your face, not commenting as he silently snatches your hand back. he intertwines your fingers as he raises your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against it while he drives through the rain.

it’s getting considerably heavier by every second, his foot pressing off the gas every time he drives past a puddle. 

“i used to be scared of the rain, you know.” 

you look over at him and see him looking peacefully at the road, pink strands of hair hanging in his face. 

“oh, yeah? when you were like five?”

“twelve,” he corrects with a smile, doing his best to distract you from the chaos outside. “i used to wake up crying, sometimes. i know that’s hard to believe now. because i’m so cool and what not.”

“oh please,” you giggle out, the sweet sound filling the car also distracting him from the pounding of rain and crackling of thunder; he���s outgrown his fear of storms but even he can admit this one is a little bit scary right now. 

“what, you don’t think? i’ll have you know-”

the skidding of his tires mixed with your frightened screams is the next thing he hears, a strangled “yeonjun!” in the background as he attempts to take control of his car.

there’s the boom of thunder and lightning and loud blares of horns before everything goes still, his body acting on auto pilot as he safely pulls off on the side of the highway.

his first concern isn’t damage to his car or the heightening storm outside - it’s you in his passenger seat, eyes closed tight and tears on your face. 

“are you okay?” yeonjun’s voice frantically asks, barely able to feel the sensation of his his warm hands on your face. your heart’s pounding and your hands are shaking and for a moment, you thought you were about to die. 

your eyes pop open to meet his and the concern in them only makes your eyes water more, bottom lip trembling as you nod your head. 

but even though you’re nodding he sees you’re not. he sees you trying to catch your breath and your eyes looking back and forth nervously outside.

“hey, hey, angel. it’s okay. i’m here,” he hums lowly, his thumbs running over your face soothingly. “i’m here and you’re okay.”

you attempt to catch and slow your breaths as your eyes never leave his, his only leaving you to quickly assess you for injuries.

“i know that was scary. i’m sorry. i should’ve been more careful.”

“it wasn’t your fault,” you squeak out, swallowing the knot in your throat as you shake your head. your eyes roam his and you pout when there’s guilt and sorrow in his eyes, your own hand snaking down to hold his hand. 

“are you okay?”

his eyes soften as he cups your face and brings you to closer to him, a quiet “yes, baby,” leaving his mouth before he places his lips on your forehead.

you breathe in his scent and he breathes in yours, not allowing himself to pull away until he feels you relax under him.

“i’m gonna drive us to my house, okay?” he says, his eyes back on you looking cautious. “we can order food. i just don’t want us driving in this if it’s gonna get worse.”

you nod your head before reaching down to grasp one of his hands tightly, his small smile meeting you before he carefully pulls back onto the highway. 

the storm gets substantially worse as he makes his way to his house, hand grasping yours tightly as he drives slow and steady. 

he’s flooded with relief when he finally pulls in his driveway, running around the passenger side door to help you out. his hand doesn’t leave the small of your back until you’re in his room, a big space with white walls and black furniture that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest.

contrary to most teenage boy’s rooms, his smells really good. like a mix of his cologne, laundry detergent and a distinct smell you’ve just deemed as his natural scent.

it’s comforting and makes you feel at ease, licking over your lips nervously as you realize this is the first time you’ve been in a boy’s room.

“you want anything to drink?”

“i...i’m good,” you say, sitting on his bed as you look around.

there’s no decor on the walls except for a large flat screen tv across from his bed and above his dresser, a pile of clothes off to the side. 

“sorry, i didn’t expect to have anyone over so it’s a little messy.”

you look over at him sitting beside you, a sheepish smile on his face. you think it’s the first time he’s ever sounded somewhat... nervous and out of his comfort zone. 

maybe because he knows you’ve never been in this situation before. 

“it’s okay, i like your room,” you smile, spreading your fingers out across his soft, dark comforter. “it’s very fitting.”

“oh yeah?” he smirks, inching closer to you and making your heart speed up. “and why’s that?”

there’s that dark playfulness you’re so used to seeing swarming behind his eyes, just as teasing as it is intense that makes you hold back a squeak. he quirks his eyebrow as he moves closer, pink tongue peeking out to roll over his lips.

you can’t help when your eyes fall to them, missing the feel of them on yours. 

you two haven’t gone past making out, a clash of tongues and teeth that have you quietly moaning into his mouth. but when your body acts on its own accord, pushing yourself closer to him or grasping at the bottom of his shirt, he always stops you.

“what are you doin’ baby?”

you were in his car after a tutoring session, the parking lot of the school completely deserted. your cheeks flush and you immediately draw your hands back, lowering your head slightly as embarrassment took over. 

“i...i thought that was...don’t you wanna...”

because clothes come off, that’s how it starts - you know that much.

and you can feel how much he wants to go further, the hardness under you that scared you at first now the thing begging you to go further.

you feel wanted and desired and even though you’re scared, you want to go further.

“we don’t have to do anything, baby. this is fine,” he says softly, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. 

“but i want to,” you mumble, not even sure if he can hear your words because of how quiet you are. 

you know he must though because he draws his fingers under your chin to lift your face, eyes heavy of fondness and arousal making your stomach flutter more. 

your first instinct is to assume he doesn’t want you - why else would he stop you? but you can see in his eyes that he does...right? because it really does look like that.

what other reason would he have to stop you though? maybe he just doesn’t-

“whatever you’re thinking is probably wrong,” yeonjun mutters, tightening his hold on you and bringing you closer to him. “i don’t wanna go further with you while we’re in the car, angel. you deserve more than that.”

“hm?” you hear him hum, ripping you from your memories. 

you look from his lips to his eyes watching you with lust, the beginnings of your nonsense words cut off when he kisses you. 

your heart flutters and stomach swoops immediately, kissing back with an embarrassing amount of fervor. he smirks against your lips as he pulls you on his lap, your arms circling around his shoulders.

his tongue traces your bottom lip before you feel it in your mouth, daringly meeting his back in a way you’d never done before. it causes him to bring his hands to your hips, squeezing and massaging them with his large hands. 

“look at you,” he mutters almost condescendingly, falling back onto his bed and causing you to squeal. you’re holding yourself above him and his eyebrow is quirked, red lips puffy and pink hair messy causing your heart to flutter mercilessly.

“if i didn’t know any better, baby, i’d think you’re real eager tonight.”

you bite down on your lip as you adjust yourself on him, your hips straddling his and brushing over him. your building heat is right under him and it takes everything in you not to moan at just the thought, his hands strong and firm.

and just as you’re about to answer, tell him that, yes, even though you’re not familiar with.... any of this, you’re eager and ready, your stomach growls and ruins the moment.

it causes a smile to light up his face, a deep chuckle leaving him before he flips you over. he’s hovering above you now, no parts of your bodies touching except for his hand a few inches away from your head. 

“or you’re hunger, my mistake, angel,” he says with a smirk, pressing a peck to your nose sweetly. “what do you want?”

you spend the next hour laying in his bed waiting for the pizza, the storm just as wild outside as it was when you were in the car. you bit down on a squeal threatening to leave your mouth every time there was a terrifying boom, your body shimming closer to yeonjun’s.

he smiled against your head and welcomed your body closer, bringing your head to his chest.

“you’re cute,” you hear him mumble, the swooping in your stomach causing you to feel warm.

you look up at him and smile shyly, tucking your head closer into his chest. you have to hide your growing smile when you feel his lips brush your head, deep content hums leaving his chest.

the doorbell ringing rips you two apart, his mumbled “i’ll be right back,’ causing you to sit up. you brush your fingers through your hair as you sit up, looking around his dark room and feeling something brewing in your stomach.

you feel every bit as nervous as you do excited and eager in his room with him right now. 

it’s still scary because you’re new to this. because you’ve never done anything like this before and you know you don’t know what you’re doing. 

but a part of you wants to kiss him on his bed. go further than he’s allowed you to because if he only didn’t want to be with you in the car, this should solve that problem, right?

you’ve never felt as desired and warm as you have with him these past months. no one’s ever looked at you the way he does or have made you feel the way he does. 

you’re usually too scared or uneasy to talk to people or form a connection; but from the moment you met him, you were able to do that. a part of you just felt inclined to help him, be a person that he knows would be there for him even if it meant in the form of helping him study or motivate him.

you never would’ve expected for him to reciprocate your feelings. nor would you have expected to be in this current situation, want and need bubbling in your stomach at the thought of yeonjun doing-

“pizza’s here,” yeonjun says, popping his head through the door holding a box of pizza. 

you smile upon seeing it, your stomach growling at the smell; if he hears it, he doesn’t say anything. just walks over and places the box on his bed, offering you a slice that you take immediately.

“thank you,” you squeak, bringing the food to your mouth.

he watches you for a few seconds, suddenly all too aware of him looking at you. you raise an eyebrow as you chew, a shy look coming over your face that causes him to smile. 

“what?”

“nothing,” he says, shaking his head as he takes out his own slice. “my mom called me and said they can’t come home tonight because of the storm.”

you take the time to chew your food as you take in his words, the fluttering in your stomach a mix of nerves and excitement. 

“oh.”

“yeah...” he hums, his eyes roaming your face; he doesn’t want his next suggestion to make you uncomfortable but he also thinks it would be best. for both of you. 

“and i don’t know if i should drive you home, angel. it’s supposed to get really bad. do you... wanna stay over?”

there’s a lump in your throat for all the reasons there shouldn’t be. 

not because this is your first time sleeping over a boy’s house or the fact that his parents aren’t home. or because you’re gonna have to call your mom and say you’re sleeping over a friend’s house.

or even because you don’t know what to expect tonight.

it’s only there because you know, in a new form of acting on your deeper desires and not suppressing yourself to just being some innocent girl, you wanna get railed.

“i... i guess i can do that,” you say, some nervousness still behind your voice because when it comes down to it, you’re unfamiliar with this situation. 

“well yeah, but do you want to, baby?” he asks with a small smirk, his hand reaching up to toy with your hair. 

his long fingers run through the strands before tucking them behind your ear, his hand slinking down to rest on your neck.

“if you don’t feel comfortable, i’ll take you home later,” he says, thumb running across your skin slowly. breath catches in your throat when he leans closer to you, his lingering scent and broadness causing you to bite down on your lip.

“i just thought it’d be nice to lay with you tonight. or wake up with you.”

“or let us go further since we’re not in the car.” 

you don’t know who’s more shocked by your words but you know you’re definitely more embarrassed, a rampant blush crossing your cheeks as you attempt to hide in his shoulder.

he’s quick to pull you away with a small “tsk,” the smirk on his lips quickly widening despite the soft look in his eyes. 

you bite back the noise threatening to leave your mouth when he wraps his hand around you hair, the slightest of stings ripping through your scalp when he pulls you forward.

“go further?” he asks lowly, his eyes peering down at you only making you feel more warm and flustered. 

words are caught in your mouth and you can’t find it in you to say anything. not only because you’re too embarrassed but you don’t even know what to say.

you know you want more than kissing and that there’s always a building pressure between your legs when he pulls you on his lap. 

you know on more than one occasion, you’ve wanted his hands that’d rest on your hips to go just a little further down. slip in the waistband of your pants and meet the wetness and heat through your underwear.

you’ve wanted to see his pink hair between your legs as you experience getting eaten out of the first time, holding back moans in the crease of your elbow as his tongue explores every inch of you. 

you know you want to look up at him with tears in your eyes and a heaving chest, ask if you can please suck him off because you’ve also never done that before. 

he can see the arousal and lust clouding your eyes the more the silence elapses, his cock quickly hardening as he takes in the sight of you on his bed ready for him to take you. 

it’s just a matter of how and when he’s gonna. how and when you tell him like the good girl he knows you are. 

“how much further are you thinking, angel?” his deep voice finally asks, successfully breaking the silence and building the thick tension. 

you let out a breathy exhale when he pushes you on your back, the knot in your stomach tightening as he looks down at your body. 

“what do you want me to do, huh?” he asks, the smirk and feeling in his chest growing when he sees you start to breathe heavily on his bed. your legs are nearly shaking from the build up in pressure, your tongue licking over your dry lips. 

“i... yeonjun...”

he bites back the groan threatening to leave his mouth at you moaning his name, holding himself above your body as he hand spays out against your stomach. 

“why are you moaning my name baby? i haven’t even done anything.”

“but... but i want you to. so bad.”

your voice is whiny and pathetic but it’s all it takes for him to snap, his hand moving from your stomach to between your legs. 

he can feel the heat and pulse of your pussy and has to suppress his own groan again, completely getting off on the feeling that you, the innocent little tutor he’s been wanting to ruin since he saw you last year, is laid out on his bed and dripping just for him. 

“please, yeonjun,” you whine again, completely out of your mind with lust when you feel his hand on you. 

he bites down on his lip before he starts gently running his hand over you, barely putting any pressure on you. he’s just relishing in the how only that makes you spread your legs immediately, hips bucking up closer to his hand. 

he pulls his hand away and pins your hips to the bed, his face hovering above yours before you can even whine again. 

“be patient, angel. or this isn’t gonna work,” he growls lowly, his thumbs running over your pants gently. 

“i- i’m sorry,” you gasp out, tears pricking your eyes because this feeling is so new and foreign and overwhelming. “i just... i’m so...”

“you’re so what?”

“i want you,” you say immediately, thinking back to your conversation with him outside of soobin’s house. when the words you’re telling him now are the same ones he told you. “i want you more than you know.”

a scoff leaves his mouth when you say that, remembering those words leaving his own mouth that night.

but the difference here is, he thinks, is that you really didn’t know that.

you didn’t know how just sitting there and smiling at him and talking to him so sweetly was making him want you. your soft smiles and vanilla scent and the wide-eyed look you’d always innocently give him.

but he’s aware of how much you want him, in this moment. he can feel it, smell it, see it. he knows just how much you want him because he wants you the same way. 

your pants and underwear are off in one shot, a gasp leaving your mouth when you realize you’re completely bare in front of him. 

he’s quick to look at your face to see if you’re okay, that teary wide-eyed look and teeth sinking in your lip greeting him; another whiney and mumbled “touch me,” leaves your mouth before he can ask.

a smile lights up his face that makes your heart jump even through this all, a teasing look in his eye even through the arousal and painful hardness in his pants.

“say please, angel.”

“please touch me, yeonjun. please.”

his fingers are on your clit right after the words leave you, your mouth hanging open and legs spreading when you’re immediately filed with a sense of some relief. 

“you’re so wet for me, angel. how long have you wanted this, huh?”

you babble out something you can’t even hear through your pounding ears but it must be something good and polite enough because you feel a finger enter you a few seconds later.

he hisses at the tightness around his finger and has to remember to be gentle with you, fingering you slowly and sweetly as he toys at your clit. 

“you’re doing so good, baby. so good for me.”

you cry out a moan that has his fingers moving quicker, curling them just right before you scream out his name; you’ve never ever felt anything like this before.

“yeonjun, oh, my god.”

“i know, baby, it’s okay,” he says, allowing his fingers to work over you and in you for a few seconds before he forces himself to remove them. your head shoots up and the sight almost makes him smile, a frustrated look in your teary eyes that has him cocking his head.

“why did you-”

the fingers just inside you are below your chin, the slickness of his fingers on your skin making you widen your eyes. is that... is he about to make you...

you hold back another moan when you watch him raise his fingers to his own mouth, his eyes rolling back when he tastes you. you don’t know if you’re a little grossed out or even more turned on but you think it must be the latter if the way your legs start to shake again and your lower stomach tightens. 

“you taste so fucking sweet, angel. can i eat your pussy?”

he could tell how scared you were when you first got here, not seeing a hint of that fear now but still needing to check before he pulls you on his face and has his way with you.

“y-yes, please, yeonjun, oh my-”

you can’t even get the words out before his hands are taking off your shirt, removing the straps of your bra and pushing them down until your boobs pop out. 

perky nipples spring into the air and he can’t stop the groan that leaves him, circling his tongue around each of them before he tells you to unhook it. your eyes meet his for just a few seconds before you reach out to take it off, quickly throwing it on the floor before you, without thinking, cover yourself. 

his eyes flash and he immediately snaps out of his trance, placing his hands on your arms but not attempting to move them. 

“what are you doing, angel?”

and it’s at this moment, something as silly as him seeing your chest completely naked, that you’re feeling insecure. 

you know he’s been with girls before this, college girls who definitely have bigger boobs than you and know what they’re doing. girls who are prettier and sexier and don’t blush or whine at the slightest hint of his touch of them. 

“i... i know you’ve been with prettier girls before. an-and i don’t think they’re that nice.”

“angel, i don’t know if i’ve gotten this across enough but you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever met,” he says, the sweetest words to ever leave his mouth not even making him blink.

because he needs you to know in this moment that you are. he can’t stand the insecure, fearful look in your eye that he’s not gonna find you desirable because you’re comparing yourself to other people. 

“that’s a lie,” you weakly mumble out, tears stinging your eyes because this is so stupid. now you’re ruining the moment and he’s not gonna wanna do this with you. you’re proving just how inexperienced and unfamiliar you are with-

“i don’t lie.”

your eyebrow raises and he can’t help but smirk, the realization that your whole relationship started off lying to your teacher making him let out a deep chuckle. 

“i mean i don’t lie to you, angel, i would never lie to you,” he says, reaching down to press a long kiss on your lips. it’s the most intimate kiss you’ve ever had with him, mouths parting on one another like you’re trying to get all your worries and reassurances out on one another.

him that you’re just as desirable as he knows you are and you that you really don’t know what you’re doing but you wanna do this with him. 

“you’re beautiful, baby, and if anyone’s not worthy of the other, it’s me.”

his words make your eyebrows pull together, the look in his eye one you’ve never seen before. probably the most vulnerable and honest you’ve seen him look at you. 

“but i’m gonna do my best to be, angel, so please... don’t think that,” he says, pulling your arms away from your chest. 

he feels relief flood through him when you allow him to do say, his head dipping again to place small pecks on your chest before taking another nipple in his mouth. 

he moans around you at the same time you do, throwing your head back against his pillow. your fingers lace through the back of his pink hair and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing, moaning out his name when his tongue carefully and slowly licks around the other neglected one. 

“you also have the sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted,” he mumbles around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it one more time before grabbing your hips and throwing himself on his back. 

“so sit on my face, angel. now.”

you have no time to feel hesitant or insecure because, one, he pulls you up before you can do anything else and two, you’re far too eager to feel this for the first time. 

his tongue latching onto your clit causes you to moan out his name, trying your best to not buck your hips against his face. but his tongue feels like it’s everywhere, flicking at it your clit and up inside you and quickly making your legs shake around him. 

your hazy eyes look down and you see his own looking up at you, a hot arousal in them as you cover the rest of his face with your body. pink strands stick to his forehead and you bite down on your lip so you don’t scream, your eyes rolling back when he eats you out like a man starved.

he’s moaning against you and pulling you closer to his face, your hips bucking into his mouth as you whine out his name over and over. 

you’re so out of it and dazed with arousal and need that you don’t even think twice when an idea pops into your head. 

you buck your hips a tad harder than usual that he disconnects his mouth from you, about to ask if he hurt you somehow before you flip over on his face. your body leans over his stomach until your mouth is by the tight groin of his sweatpants, clumsily slipping down his boxers until his cock springs free.

it’s hard and red and looks completely neglected, screaming to be relieved by you.

so even though you have no idea what you’re doing, only guided by works of fiction and things you hear in the hallway, you wrap your mouth around the head of his cock.

you hear him growl at your name but only continue to suck him off, your tongue circling around him as your mouth moves up and down. you smile when he moans against your pussy just so moan around his a few seconds later, like he knew you were smiling against him at hearing that noise leave him.

he didn’t think he could get any harder than he already was but you continue to impress him and prove him wrong, his mouth working quicker on you to aid in his growing arousal. 

a loud moan of your name leaves his mouth when you deep throat him, a growled “fuck,” against your wetness that makes you whine against him. 

“i wanna fuck your mouth so badly,” he growls against you, wrapping his tongue around your clit just as you let out a strangled “please.” but he only shakes his head and continues his vigorous assault, sticking two fingers inside you that causes your scream to be muffled around his cock.

“you’re gonna come first, angel. i want you to come on my fucking face.”

and even though he already seemed to know it from the moment he met you, he sees that what he wants from you, he’s always gonna get. 

your lower stomach tightens before a feeling of euphoria consumes you, your legs shaking and hips bucking before an orgasm rips right through you. your head is leant against his head as you try to catch your breath, whining slightly when he pulls you off of him.

he lays you down gently on the bed before placing a kiss to your cheek. 

“you did so good, angel. how do you feel?”

“mmm.. that was the best thing i’ve ever felt.”

a deep laugh leaves him at your sleepy, dazed look, taking his shirt off so he can dab at your wet legs. you wince a little at the sensitivity and he mumbles an apology, laying on his back and opening his arms to you.

“lay with me, baby.”

a small smile crosses your face as you fall into his bare chest, sighing contently with your head resting over his chest. you can hear his heartbeat against your ear and feel his lips against your head, his fingers running over your arm slowly.

you’ve never been more comfortable and at ease than you are in this moment. even with the storm raging outside and the unknown parts of your relationship still coming, you feel happy. 

happy and safe and so stupidly content.  

“angel?”

you look up at him when you hear his voice break the silence, your chin against his chest as you meet his gaze. 

he smiles upon seeing you, his hand coming up to pat down your messy hair. 

“i like you. a lot.”

you bite down on your lip to hide your growing smile, daringly taking the first move to press a sweet peck on his lips.

“i like you, too. a lot, a lot,” you giggle out, the pink on your cheeks making his heart squeeze in his chest. “but i think you already knew that.”

“i was hoping,” he hums lowly, bringing you back into his chest. you smile against him as you inhale his scent, moving your body closer to him until you feel your leg hit a hard, fleshy piece of skin. 

your eyes widen and pulse quickens when you see he’s still hard and aching, the content look on his face completely disregarding it. 

“yeonjun...” you mumble, shamelessly staring at his dick a few inches from your leg. 

he peeks an eye open and sees you staring down at it, a sheepish smile crossing his face; he looks a tad embarrassed and you shouldn’t find it as endearing as you do. 

“sorry. it’ll go down eventually.”

eventually being when he gets up to go to the bathroom and jerks himself off. because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna go flaccid with you all naked and cuddled against him.

“you mean you’re not gonna fuck me?”

his eyes widen and cock twitches when those words leave your mouth, his hand falling to your jaw so you can look at him. his eyes roam your face when he sees the heavy desire building in your wide-eyed gaze, the perfect contrast of sweet and lustful that has him holding back a groan. 

“where did you learn to talk like this?” he hums lowly in your ear. 

you smirk against him before you bring your hand up to his mouth, his eyes searching yours. but you’re only staring back just as intensely, rubbing yourself against his leaking cock laying between you. 

“spit on it, please.”

he can’t even stop his groan from leaving him this time, painfully hard and ready to bust. you learned so fast what he likes and that’s when you’re both polite and eager.

“baby girl,” he moans, bringing his face down to place a messy, dominating kiss on yours. he pulls your mouths apart after allowing his tongue to explore your mouth, a string of spit connecting your lips. 

his eyes fall to your mouth before he’s tipping your head back, your hand clutching onto his shoulder and tightening when, suddenly, he spits in your mouth. 

your eyes widen but he smirks before you can say anything, wordlessly bringing your hand to his mouth and spitting on it as you so requested. you let out a shaky sigh, eyeing him warily before he gives you a nod.

it’s only then that you wrap your hand around his cock, watching as his eyes flutter shut and he leans his head back. 

“there u go, angel,” he hums lowly, your hand twisting over the tip before exploring down. 

he can feel your hesitance and unsureness but it only makes it that much more enjoyable for him, knowing this is the first time you’ve done this - although he does wonder how you knew to spit on it first. 

his words spur you on and you wet your hand again, twisting and turning on every ridge of his cock. his moans of your name cause wetness to gather between your legs, your eyes meeting his to see them right on you.

“please fuck me, yeonjun.”

you didn’t have to ask him twice before he pushed you on your back. he fumbled to take his sweatpants off fully, discarding them on the floor before pulling you toward the end of bed.

you look down at him with furrowed eyebrows before a loud gasp leaves you, his mouth back on your pussy before he slides two fingers in. he preps you again until you’re coming around him, his mouth hot around you while his fingers are curled and relentless.

“p-please, yeonjun. i wanna- feel you.”

“and you will, angel, i promise,” he says, pressing one last kiss to your swollen, wet clit before going up to your face. “you’ve never done this before, right?”

he knows it and you know it but he still needs to ask. needs to know he’s gonna be the first person to take you and ruin you. 

“no,” you immediately respond, shaking your head as tears well up in your eyes. 

he responds by smiling, placing one last long kiss on your mouth before cupping your face gently.

“it might hurt, okay? i’ll go as slow as you need.”

you nod your head as you relax on your back, looking down to see him positioning himself between your legs. he swirls the tip of his dick around your wet clit and opening, watching as your dripping hole tries to suck him in.

“holy fuck,” he growls out, “you’re so wet, baby. it’s gonna feel so fucking good.”

you whine unintelligible words but he knows to just soothe you. bring his hand to your waist and rub slowly as he promises to be in you soon.

the stretch at first in painful and unfamiliar, your face pulled into a grimace despite the deep groan leaving him.

“oh, angel,” he growls lowly, his dark eyes meeting yours to see your face twisted in pain. “are you okay? does it hurt?”

“y-yes, but it’s okay. just... slow,” you say quietly, nodding your head reassuringly. 

he hovers over your face as he inches himself in further and further, your breaths shaky and body tense as the pain worsens. 

“i’m sorry, baby, you’re doing so good.”

you nod your head and he kisses away the tears, a sigh of relief leaving you when he stops moving. he’s still inside you for a few seconds, allowing your tight walls to adjust around him before he starts moving.

it takes a few thrusts for the burning pain to subside, replaced by a full, warm feeling that had you moaning quietly into the air. 

“does it feel good now, baby?” you hear yeonjun ask, his thrusts speeding up as his body lays over you. “do you like my cock in you?”

“y-yes,” you mumble out, throwing your legs around his waist. 

he growls lowly as he starts fucking into you, keeping his pace steady and just hard enough to make you lose your mind; because he doesn’t wanna hurt you but you also feel so good, he can’t help but chase after his orgasm.

“tell me you’re mine.”

“i-i’m yours, yeonjun,” you whimper out, his hand coming down to your clit making you cry out again. “i’m yours. yours, yours, yours,” you repeat dumbly, having no sense of control over yourself as an immense pleasure builds inside you. 

he thrusts into you hitting a certain spot that has a scream leaving your mouth, a sadistic smirk on his face.

“that’s right, angel. you’re mine. you’ve been mine ever since i saw you last year,” he growls lowly, remembering the first time he saw you and knew you were gonna somehow effect him like this. 

“i wanted to ruin you then, baby, because i knew you’d be mine.”

“yeonjun,” you whine, thrusting your hips into him at his words. remembering all the times he caught you staring at him. all the times you’d watch him and thought about how handsome he was.

how someone like him would never want someone like you. 

but he wants you and you want him and it’s still something you can’t quite believe. you know you’re both different but it seems to be something that works, him bringing you out of your comfort zone and you making him wanna be someone better.

“i’m gonna come, angel,” he grunts out, “i’m gonna fucking come. come with me.”

you feel the knot in your stomach unravel before you’re both moaning each other’s names, chests heaving and his breathing harsh as he holds himself lazily above you. 

he drops his head into the crook of your neck, attempting to catch his breath despite the feeling of your post orgasm spazzing around him.

the pounding takes a few seconds to subside, a final moan leaving him before he pulls out of you. 

he’s quick to collapse onto his back, hanging his arm off the bed lazily as he searches for his shirt. 

he cleans you up a few moments later, watching you with a small smile before he pulls you down onto him again.

“how was that?” he mumbles quietly, his eyes closed and head resting atop yours. 

“really good,” you mumble back, your own eyes closed as you attempt to catch your breath. you still feel a little sticky but it’s not something you mind in this moment, your post orgasm daze leaving you content. 

it could be the post orgasm daze making you say the next words that leave your mouth. on such a high of emotions and endorphins and utter contentment that the warm feeling in your chest if confused.

or maybe it’s the months of getting to know the boy beside you who had such a bad reputation. who you were terrified of at first and thought was mean an scary, thought for sure he was gonna find you weird and nerdy.

but you’ve never felt more wanted or desired by another person. no one’s ever looked at you the way he’s looked at you before or made you feel the way he’s made you feel. 

“i... i think i love you, yeonjun.”

love had always scared yeonjun and especially hearing a confession like that after sex - it had always been his worst nightmare and, truthfully, an embarrassing moment.

but he’s never felt as listened to and comforted by someone else ever in his life before. someone who, from the second he met them, trusted him and thought of him to be good and smart and capable. 

he didn’t know why and he didn’t know what he did for you to think of him that way but he knows he’s never gonna take it for granted. because from the second he saw you, he really did know you were gonna be his.

“i think i might love you, too, angel.”

[fivelakesinwriting]

Hi babes, so to fuel our drew/rafe obsession, I think we can all agree drew is a boobs guy like no one can tell me different.

He just likes to lay on them when he’s sleeping or y’all are cuddling or when their watching a movie he has his arm over their shoulder with his hand on their boob 😏. pls i need a blurb on this and i feel like you could write this perfectly

-💫

Author's Notes: I see him as an ass man, honestly - but that could be because I am all ass, with ample boobs. But for you - anything, my friend. Also...I want this... Let me know what you think if you have a moment! If this was your request, I hope you love it. Thank you! xoxo

Warnings: None really. Fluff. Sexual references - sexual innuendos (just lots of touching)

Requested? Yes! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

They both felt so lazy that day. If it wasn't evident by the blankets strewn about the apartment in a trail from room to room, it was certainly made apparent in the way they lounged about. Limbs stretched across furniture, oversized clothes on as the rain dropped heavily against the windows the apartment.

"Sweetie." Drew mumbled into the top of her head, hair messy from never being brushed that day. He ran his fingertips up the back of her shirt along her warm skin and held her flush against him.

"Yeah?" She replied into the crease of his neck, fingertips running through his gold chain. He felt her eyelashes tickle his neck, so he knew she had not fallen back asleep quite yet.

"I'm getting hungry." Drew stated softly as his fingertips traced soft patterns over her back, and down her spine. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her sweatpants and gave a long exhale as she sat up to straddle his hips.

"I don't think we have a lot here, baby. Probably have to order something, it's yucky out there." She replied as she pressed her palms to his chest for leverage as she tried to look out the door of the balcony.

Drew reached his hands up under her sweater, which he immediately noticed was his, and filled his hands with her bare breasts beneath. He took notice of the shivers on her stomach, and along her neck as he softly palmed at her ample flesh, thumbs brushing over her nipples every so often.

"Whatever you like. You pick this time." Drew whispered with a soft smile up at her with a soft bounce of her breasts in his hands.

"Don't! I can't focus when you do that." She whined with a soft laugh as she pulled his hands out of her shirt by his elbows, making him smirk.

"Fine. Keep my hands to myself." Drew mumbled with a grin as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyes on any bit of her exposed skin he could get.

"Stop looking at me like that." She shivered, her eyes closed as she slowly climbed off the much larger man and stood on unsteady feet.

"Like what?" Drew laughed as he reached for her thighs with his paw-like hand to try and pull her back. He most certainly was not done cuddling and touching.

"Like you're going to take my clothes off, and I'm not gonna get to eat food. I know that look, Starkey. Sit on your hands or something." She laughed while she wrapped her hand around his thick wrist in a lame attempt to move his hands away from her.

"Don't have a look." Drew grumbled while he reluctantly pulled his hands off his girlfriend once more and watched her backside as she walked away from him, towards the kitchen to look over takeout menus.

"You do have a look, and you've been giving me that same look since our first date." She called to him over her shoulder as she reached the kitchen, standing on her toes to reach the menus that were placed on top of the refrigerator.

Before she could ask him, Drew was up off of the couch and in the kitchen standing behind her, easily reaching above her head to grab the small pile of takeout menus and handing them to her. He pressed a kiss to the top of his short girlfriend's head and gave her backside a soft pat before he turned around to check his phone that had been charging. He checked his few messages and emails while he heard his girl hum and haw as she looked through the menus. He quickly sent a handful of replies then switched his phone back off.

"I think we should just go with the usual." Drew stated softly as he took the few steps over to his girl, standing behind her. His right arm wrapped around her, his hand reaching beneath her shirt again to palm at her breast while his left hand reached for a weathered Thai food menu, covered in wine stains and spilled sauce from favoured dishes.

"Because delivery takes over 30 minutes and you have a look on your face?" She questioned as she leaned back, succumbing to his affections as he pressed a kiss to the side of her face and his thumb ghosted over her nipple once.

"This is just my face." Drew scoffed, lips pressed to her temple as he pulled her back against him.

"It's distracting."

"You're distracting." Drew mumbled as he dropped the menu back on the counter and wrapped his other arm around his girlfriend to give her a loving squeeze.

"Order me food, Starkey. I'm hungry." She laughed, her arms folded over to squeeze at his biceps as he kissed her face over and over again. He grabbed her inside her sweater once more before he pulled his hands off his girlfriend and accepted her phone, their favourite Thai food place already dialed and at the ready.

"Tell them to bring you extra rice and that sauce you like if you go wait for me in bed with your clothes off." Drew nodded, eyebrows raised, just as the nasally voice of the teen on the other end of the phone greeted him.

"I was gonna do that any way!" She whispered to him as she unzipped the sweater that had belonged to him, dropped it to the floor, and raised her shoulders in a small shrug.

"Go." Drew stated under his breath with a snap of his fingers, pointing towards the bedroom down the hall and watched as she all but skipped away from him.

Drew shook his head, running his fingertips through his hair as he waited impatiently for this kid on the other end of the phone to give him the time and total amount of their food.

"That'll be about 50 minutes for delivery , Mr. Starkey. Sorry. We're busy tonight."

No worries, kid.

Hotties:

@whcclxr @pogueslandia @maybankslut @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @starkey-babie @beauvibaby @sodasback @soph0864 @rottenstyx @plutooryectors

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[applepiewinchesters]

Knuckles (Fez x Reader)

A/N: Just letting everyone know that I have in fact posted this on my AO3 as well in case you have already come across it or suspect any theft. Thank you!

TW: Mentions of violence, blood, brief mention of DV not relating to the relationship between Fez and the reader

You’d begged Fez to stay in with you for New Year’s, you could get drunk, watch the ball drop on TV and after that have sex on the couch after Ash goes to bed.

With Fez’s line of work though, New Year’s parties, especially ones with a bunch of high schoolers, were prime money-making spots for selling drugs. People wanted to get drunk or cross faded and just forget about their normal lives for a while.

“I gotta go baby, I’ll be back before one I promise, we’ll still have our own fun ‘ight?” Fez tried to reason with you. You were sitting on the bathroom counter while he got ready, pulling on the green sweater you’d gotten him for Christmas.

He looked handsome in it, it really brought out his hair, made the ginger color of it pop.

Fez placed his hands on your knees, and you opened your legs so that he could stand between them. You looked up at him, pouting and began to mess with the chain around his neck.

“Girl don’t look at me like that,” Fez groaned, pulling you into his chest, your arms linking around him as he did. “Come with, wear that little blue dress of yours.”

The dress in question was one he bought you a few months ago, it was short, had thin straps and was a cute powder blue color. It hugged your figure in all the right places, making your ass look amazing. It shimmered in the light whenever you moved, especially when you were dancing. Fez couldn’t keep his eyes off you when you wore it.

As much as you wanted to wear it and tease him while you danced at the party, getting drunk on the couch, and watching Dick Clark’s New Year’s Eve special was calling your name too.

“C’mon baby, for me?” Fez asked as you pulled away from his chest, looking up at him. He was giving you a look he knew made you melt.

“Fine,” you pouted, “but I’m gonna complain the whole time.”

“Yeah, yeah, get your ass ready,” Fez told you, making you hop down from the bathroom counter.

In less than an hour you were ready, dress on, hair styled to frame your face and makeup done, complete with some blue sparkle on your lids that matched the dress.

You walked into the living room where Ash and Fez were waiting, watching the start of the New Year’s festivities on TV. Fez looked up, his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he eyed you, standing up.

“Fuck baby girl, you lookin’ beautiful as hell,” Fez said, hands moving to your waist as he stood in front of you.

“Thanks babe,” you told him, leaning up to kiss him.

“Can we just go?” Ash groaned, pushing past you both to the front door.

“Yeah, come on, we pickin’ up Rue too,” Fez told you, grabbing the car keys off the table and taking your hand.

You, Fez, and Ash left, stopping by to pick up an obviously high as fuck Rue. On the way to the party, she rapped along to every song that played, getting you to join in. She was a hell of a good time, but the fact she had relapsed again scared you.

You made a mental note to talk to her about it soon but decided to just let her have this night of fun, hopefully that wouldn’t be something you’d come to regret.

When you got to the party Rue sort of disappeared, Ash went to deal, and you got you and Fez a drink. Before Fez could have you all to himself, you were bombarded by Maddie, Jules, and Kat, who dragged you out to dance in the living room which served as the ‘dancefloor’.

You followed, happy to see the girls again, since you were no longer in school as you were the same age as Fez, you rarely saw the girls you made friends with when they were still practically little kids.

You saw them at a party your senior year and spooked off some fucker obviously trying to spike their drinks, it was friendship at first sight.

The familiar beat of “Don’t Stop the Music,” by Rihanna started to play and you began dancing with the girls, swaying your hips to the beat as you sipped your drink, the alcohol burning your throat just slightly in the best way possible.

You caught sight of Fez sitting on a couch across the room, lit joint between his fingers, all focus on you as you danced. His eyes followed your hips as he took a drag off the joint, blowing the smoke slowly from his lips after a moment.

There was something so hot about watching him smoke, but you really just couldn’t put your finger on it, but whatever it was made you want to jump him right there on that couch.

After a bit of dancing, you excused yourself to go sit with Fez for a bit, but not before you were practically forced into taking a couple Jager shots. It added to the warm feeling in your cheeks, and you definitely had a good buzz going on.

You refilled your drink and headed over to Fez, plopping down on his lap.

Fez smiled, a hand moving to rub your back a bit and you leaned into him, “Having a good time baby?”.

You nodded, giggling a bit as you put an arm around your boyfriend, scratching lightly at the back of his scalp, “You?” you asked.

Fez nodded, eyes drooping a bit and red from the high he was soaring on at the moment, “Liked watching you dance,” he said, voice now a bit lower than before, moving his head closer to you, lips trailing along your jaw and down your neck a bit.

His beard tickled making you laugh softly, Fez brought his head up and kissed you, lips moving lazily against yours. His hands moved up and down your sides, squeezing your ass a bit too.

You pulled away from him, leaning your forehead against his. “As much as I want you right now, I don’t think we can fuck on this couch,” you joked.

“Want everyone to know you’re mine,” Fez smirked, pecking your lips again.

Bringing up your left hand you pointed to the small F tattooed on the side of your ring finger that Ash did for you about a month or so ago as a surprise for yours and Fez’s anniversary. “Everybody already knows that baby,” you cooed, making Fez smirk again.

“They fuckin’ better,” he told you, pulling you closer again. You rested against him for a while, watching people dance and resting your feet, the heels you wore were adorable but after dancing for a bit your feet were already hurting.

It was nearing closer to midnight when Maddie, who was now joined by a rather nervous looking Cassie, grabbed you again to dance.

You obliged, giving Fez a kiss before heading back to dance with them. “Sexy Bitch” was now blasting through the house, you’d gotten a bit more drunk now and just danced however you thought best fit the beat. You had some rhythm, but that essentially went away when you were drunk.

Some guy with long hair and a red shirt suddenly pushed into the crowd of sweaty, dancing bodies, “It’s the New Year bitches!” he shouted, making everyone cheer.

You looked to see if Fez was still sitting on the couch, as you wanted to give him a New Year’s kiss, but he was standing up, pulling off his green sweater, revealing the white, long sleeve shirt he had on underneath, and began walking towards the small counter the drinks were at.

Your eyes followed his line of sight, and standing right in the direction he was walking, was Nate Jacobs.

The exact Nate Jacobs who had threatened Rue and Jules, and you knew for a fact he had given Maddie those bruises on her neck a couple months ago. He’d also called the cops on Fez, which led to him getting raided by police, thankfully nothing had been found at the time. Nate had even threatened you, telling Fez it’d be a shame if something happened to your “pretty face.”

You moved away from Maddie whom you were dancing with, but before you could try and make your way over to Fez, a hand grabbed your arm.

Looking over you saw it was Ash, “Come on, time to go girl,” he told you, pulling you in the direction of the front door.

“Ash…wait, what’s going on? What’s Fez doing?” you asked, trying to get your hand out of the kid’s grip, but he was a strong ass 12-year-old.

“Just come on, we have to go!” Ash told you, and you let him pull you away and out of the house.

You quickly followed him to the car, climbing into the passenger seat while he slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the car.

Suddenly, the thumping of the music coming from inside the house stopped, and you swear you could hear screams.

“Ash! What the fuck!?” you exclaimed, putting your hand on the door handle to get out but Ash stopped you.

“Just stay here! Fez wanted you out before things got bad,” was all Ash told you.

You suddenly saw Fez practically sprint out of the front door, green sweater in hand. Ash climbed into the backseat just as Fez got to the car, getting in the driver’s seat, and putting the car in reverse, not even stopping to put on his seatbelt.

“Fez, what the fuck is going on?” you asked, obvious concern in your voice.

When you saw the blood that painted his knuckles red your concern only deepened.

“Fez, please, what happened?” you tried again, putting your hand on your boyfriend’s arm. He gently shook you off, speeding down the residential street.

“We gotta go baby, I’ll tell you at home,” was all he said.

You trusted Fez, you really did, you trusted him with your fucking life, but he ALWAYS told you what was going on and what was going to happen and where, whatever happened in that house was not explained to you.

Your phone suddenly started buzzing and you grabbed it out of your purse, but Fez plucked it from your hands, shoving it into his pocket as he turned down a quieter street, less houses, less people.

“Fez!” you shouted, trying to get your phone back but Fez grabbed your wrist, not hard, he’d never hurt you, but just so you would stop.

You pulled your hand away and crossed your arms, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window, obviously now pissed at Fez, considering when he moved a hand to rest on your thigh you pushed it off, making him groan in frustration.

The rest of the ride home was silent, and you got out of the car as soon as it stopped, slamming your door shut behind you and practically stomping into the house.

You headed into Fez’s bedroom, which at this point was yours as well, and kicked off your heels, attempting to unzip your dress when Fez came in, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

“Go away,” you told him, your tone filled with annoyance.

“Last time I checked this is my room too baby,” Fez told you, so, like a child, you left the bedroom and went to the living room where Ash was sitting on the couch, leg bouncing nervously.

“Can you?” you asked him, turning to signal you needed help.

Ash pulled the zipper down just enough so that you could reach it and you headed to the bathroom, sighing when you found Fez there, washing the blood off his hands.

You ignored your boyfriend completely and pulled the dress off after unzipping it the rest of the way, you grabbed one of Fez’s t-shirts off the bathroom floor and pulled it over your head, tying your hair up into a ponytail after.

Fez’s hands were no longer covered in blood, but you could see some of the blood had been his as some of his knuckles were bruised and bleeding now.

“What happened?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“Taught that playboy a lesson,” was all Fez told you, grabbing the first aid kid from under the sink and pulling out some ointment and a wrap for his hands.

The realization of what happened hit you like a truck.

“Nate? You beat up Nate Jacobs?!” you shouted, “Fez, his fucking daddy will have your ass in jail before you can even blink! What were you thinking?!”.

“I was thinkin’ that little bitch needed to get put in his goddamn place!” Fez shouted back, making you jump a bit, he never yelled, at least not at you.

“You better hope that boy either dies or doesn’t remember shit if he wakes up!” you spat, making a move to leave the bathroom, but Fez grabbed your arm.

“I did it for you baby! For Rue and her friends!” he explained desperately now, “No one fucks with my family you know that.”

Squeezing your eyes shut you sighed, taking a deep breath before turning around, making Fez let go of your arm.

“I…I don’t want anything to happen to you,” you said, quieter now, too exhausted at this point to yell anymore.

“Nothin’ gonna happen to me baby, nothin’ ever has,” Fez told you, he looked sad now, and you hated seeing him sad.

“But what if something does Fez? What if you get hurt? What if you go to prison and I never see you again?” you asked, voice wobbling, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

Fez’s eyes softened completely as he took you into his arms, holding you against his chest. “I-I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry,” he told you, you began to cry, holding him tightly.

Fez was practically all you had, your dad dipped when you were four, your mom died when you were ten and your grandparents were both dead by the time you were eighteen. Fez was your family, and if anything happened to him, you and Ash would be good as dead.

“N-Not your fault,” you whimpered out, “Nate’s a bitch.”

At that, Fez chuckled, “A little bitch,” he added.

After you collected yourself, you pulled away from Fez, reaching behind you and gently grabbing his hands, bringing them around so you could look at his injuries.

“Let me help,” you told him, motioning for him to sit on the edge of the tub.

Fez did as he was told while you grabbed everything you needed. You cleaned Fez’s knuckles with a wet washcloth once more to get off some more blood that had started to dry.

After that you spread the ointment on the cuts with a q-tip before beginning to wrap them up in bandages.

Fez watched you intently, a small smile on his face, “What?” you asked, looking up at him from your kneeled position on the bathroom floor.

“Look so cute when you’re takin’ care of me,” Fez teased you, making you roll your eyes but smile none the less.

Fez’s knuckles were soon all bandaged up, and when you moved to get up, Fez stopped you, “Forgot somethin’,” he told you, making you raise an eyebrow. “Kiss it better?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes again but took his big hands in your smaller ones, kissing each bandaged knuckle carefully before dropping his hands and standing up.

“There, all better by the morning,” Fez said, getting up from the side of the tub and pulling off his white shirt, leaving him in his jeans.

“Oh, shut up,” you said, making Fez laugh.

You both got ready for bed, and made sure Ash was alright before heading to the bedroom. Fez got in bed first while you grabbed your phone from his jeans that he’d just taken off. You had a few missed calls and texts from a few of the girls, mostly Maddie.

You’d deal with it in the morning.

Crawling into bed beside Fez you laid your head on his chest, resting your arm across his stomach. Fez kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you.

“We’ll be okay baby,” he told you softly, running a hand up and down your back.

You nodded, “I know,” you told him, although something was nagging at you that that wasn’t true.

Ignoring it though you settled in to sleep, closing your eyes and praying that the New Year wasn’t going to be a complete shit show.

A/N: Decided to post another tonight that was already written up! Please let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading! :)

[milqueandsugar]

Different MCYTs reacting to you wearing their hoodie/cape/clothing! If you write a scene with any of them please use He/Him pronouns if you can't use those then They/Them!

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: None

Genre: fluff

| Ghostbur |

it was common for the two of you to go for midnight walks 

Ghostbur didn’t sleep, and you were a night owl, so it made sense most of your activities occurred after hours 

this night was no different 

okay it was a little different, the weather that was 

it had been nice all day, arguably it was rather hot 

however it seemed that the nice weather was only a facade as the wind and rain were quick to pick up a little after one am 

while the two of you were in the middle of no where

luckily Ghostbur was able to take some cover under a nearby tree, unfortunately it wasn’t big enough to shelter the both of you 

“Oh, Y/N switch places with me, you’re going to catch a cold!”

“And you’ll melt, I’ll be fine Ghostbur” 

“I’ll be okay!”

“shh! I’m not taking a no on this one, I’ll be okay! I have a great immune system thank you very much” 

despite how much you would like to pretend the cold wasn’t causing you immense amounts of discomfort, your body had betrayed you 

you could hardly keep still as your teeth chattered and shiver wracked up and down your spine 

feeling incredibly guilty Ghostbur found himself shedding himself of his sweater

Ignoring the stinging pain of the water splashing against his skin he wrapped his sweater around your shoulders

“Huh?”

“If you aren’t going to switch places with me I’d rather you be warm”

you let out a little chuckle and slip the dampening sweater over your head, it fit almost perfectly on you, a little loose in the sleeves but it was nice

Ghostbur thanked the gods that it was so dark out and you couldn’t see the blush overcoming his face, he never knew how good you looked in his clothes before, he should give you his sweater more often

“Thanks ‘Bur”

“Y-you’re welcome..!”

| Punz |

you had always been a fan of the merchants jewelry 

the golden chains and ocaasional gem stones always captured your eye 

and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit jealous 

luckily enough you were friends with the man, so surely you could jsut ask to borrow some right? 

his fit of uncontrollable laughter was enough to shatter your heart, let along the words that followed it 

“You want to what?” 

“Wear your jewelry! There’s a ball coming up and-”

“AHAHAHA! You’re kidding me right? You want my jewelry?”

“Well I’d return it of course-”

“Sure you would, Y/N, sure I’d let you borrow them” 

“h-huh? Really?”

“- with a price of course”

You’re face dropped as Punz ran one of his hands over the rings on the other, taunting you 

he had more shit then he’d ever wear! 

he doesn’t even like them! All he does is complain about the ‘hinderances ’! 

In your humiliated brooding an idea suddenly came to mind, well, more of a scheme then anything

“How about I challenge you for them?” 

“Oh?” 

It didn’t matter what the challenge was

Nor did it matter whatever silly rules Punz made before hand 

what did matter is that you absolutely crushed him, and now not only was he driving you to the ball, he also had to lend you whatever jewelry you desired 

Knocking begrudgingly on your door it didn’t take long for you to answer and when you did, oooh boy

The way the gold glittered in the moonlight, the rings decorating your fingers, slightly to big for you 

You’re glamourous suit, he could’ve sworn he had died and went to heaven 

“Ready to be my personal driver?”

his words fall flat as he opened his mouth to retort, all he could focus on was... well you 

“Punz, you okay?”

“You look so fucken hot” 

“PUNZ!” 

| Awesamdude |

With Sam’s work as the warden, he didn’t have much time for self care 

let alone house care, and the neglect showed

deciding you could no longer allow you’re friend to live in such disrepair you had taken it upon yourself to clean up after him 

he did so much for you and the rest of the server, he deserved to be taken care of as well! 

That’s how you found yourself spending your days organizing through the mans chests, files, even keeping his garden up to date

no plant went unwatered, no cobweb left up for more then a day 

and although he insisted you spend your time on your own projects it was easy to break him down 

being a warden was hard work afterall, in his defense he was exhausted when you came up with the idea! 

Eventually you’re cleaning spree lead you to his bedroom, a place you seldom enter to respect his privacy 

that being said the glimpses you caught of it were horrific. how he didn’t catch some sort of sickness was impressive, though certainly worrying 

You had just finished clearing the floor of loose trash and clothes when you began to fold what you hoped was clean laundry back into the drawers of his dresser 

soon enough however you had stumbled upon a crown, one of his older ones seeing as there were many a redstone stains and gouges in its still shiny surface 

maybe it was curiosity 

more so the boredom of the repeated tasks 

but you soon found yourself taking in you’re figure in his mirror, crown sat above you’re head 

just as you were about to do a twirl for yourself a voice caught your attention 

“It looks good on you” 

“Ahh! Sam! I’m sorry I didn’t know you’d be home so early” 

“Don’t worry about it, I took the day off, seriously though it looks good on you, you should keep it” 

“oh, are you sure?”

“Of course” 

[ageofnations]

Chamomile // drw // Pt.V

Summary: Danny often feels overshadowed by his best friends and bandmates. You, however, can’t seem to get your mind off of him.

Paring: Danny x fem!reader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warnings: SO MUCH ANGST my cruel heart loved it, cursing

A/N: all i can say is that i had a lot of fun with this one; as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. remember that asks earn you a kiss on the forehead ;)

Series Masterpost

Part V

The sound of the door clicking shut pierced you with excruciating anguish. You didn’t believe Josh would leave you in such a vulnerable state, but you were mistaken. He had left you to feel hopelessly alone in the silence of your home. The loud rain was the only thing accompanying you and your soft sniffles from silent tears, and the droplets had grown through the duration of Josh’s stay. Soft thunder rolled in the distance in the wake of the roaring precipitation.

You briefly wished you had never picked up the phone, although that probably wouldn’t have stopped him from entering your home. It wouldn’t have stopped anything from coming to light eventually. You wished you didn’t care so much. You wished you could feel happy. Happy for Danny’s potential relationship, and happy to have a reason to finally get over your feelings for him.

You felt anchored on the couch in the place where Josh had left you. Your body was heavy, and every maneuver felt like a chore. You stayed there, hugging your knees to your chest and silently sobbing. You didn’t feel like moving, and you vowed that you wouldn’t for as long as possible. Never wanting to get through this day. However, the urge to turn to look at the doorway was growing overwhelming. You wanted and needed to confirm that he was gone. That he had left you when you needed him - or anyone for that matter - the most.

You prepared yourself to see the solid white paint of the door, symbolic of how closed off you felt from everyone. You expected to see the shell of where Josh had stood moments before walking out, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart.

Instead, when you slowly lifted your head off the edge of the couch, you saw a head full of damp, wavy curls. They were much longer than Josh’s. Darker. Looser.

Danny was leaning against the door, his hands pressed on the surface behind the small of his back. He looked good, and you hated him for that. He was wearing a dark grey sweater with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. The fabric was splattered with raindrops, and that paired with the distressed black jeans he wore were the only reason you could tell that the shirt was not darker than it actually was. He integrated a pair of grey high-top Converses and a few small chain necklaces to complete his outfit. He looked beautiful, but much too casual to be going out on a date in the same day.

The sadness you had been feeling so strongly quickly turned to flaming, unbridled rage and anger. Angry that he had just been standing there, watching you cry. Angry that he would come here at all. Angry that he would come here before he went to see someone else, giving them the love and affection you had always prayed to receive.

“Where’s Josh?”

He seemed shocked that that was the first question you asked. “He opened the door when I knocked. He told me you were upset, and I told him to go home and let me take care of it. ”

You didn’t recall hearing a knock, but you also couldn’t hear much of anything for the last portion of Josh’s stay as your hearing pulsed. Maybe that’s what he had said to you before he left.

‘Let him take care of it?’ As if you were some sort of child who needed to be consoled? By him of all people? His statement only angered you more.

“Why did you come in the first place?” you spat. His face contorted into visible confusion at the venom you threw at him. He lifted himself away from where he was propped. There was noticeable caution in every slow and deliberate step he took towards you.

“I wanted to tell you that I talked to them…about how I was feeling. Just like you said I should’ve. Wanted to tell you in person.” His voice was softer than you remembered it usually being in person. You had missed that sweet and silky voice of his.

But, again, you hated that you missed it.

He hesitated, both physically and verbally, as he got closer to you. “What was Josh doing here? Did he hurt you?”

His question made you scoff to yourself and turn your head away from his moving form. “He came to tell me about your talk.” Despair started to wash over you again, the anger drowning from its harsh waves.

“Is that all?”

You didn’t respond. His question seemed loaded, as if he knew exactly what Josh had said. As if he was taunting you to see if you would crack. As if he was slightly…perturbed…that Josh had been over. Did he think he had control over when you could and couldn’t see the other guys? Did he think that you were only friends with them because you were friends with him first? He was selfish, you convinced yourself. He was insufferable. You had done nothing but be there for him whenever he needed you. Whenever he didn’t want the help because he was too stubborn to ask for it himself.

You hated him.

His mouth opened and closed, and you could see him trying to form a sentence that wouldn’t set you off. He was worried and confused, but you couldn’t see that. You couldn’t see past whatever it was that had caused you so much pain, all of it unbeknownst to him. “What all did he say?”

“Enough, Danny. He said enough,” an eye roll was paired with your answer. You laid your head against the back of the loveseat and crossed your arms across your chest. The gesture was more for comfort than anything.

He now stood beside the sofa on which you sat, behind the armrest that your back rested against. You couldn’t look at him any longer without breaking down, so you were glad he was out of your line of sight. However, he doesn’t hesitate to put his hand on your shoulder.

“Bip, what is goi-”

“Don’t fucking touch me right now,” the words shot out of you before you could rationalize them. You instinctively shrug his hand off of you. “And don’t call me that.”

You knew it would hurt him before you did it, but at this point, you could care less. You were hurt more than words could say, and he needed to know that.

He lowered his volume to a whisper. “What happened? I thought we were okay.” He slowly moved to the opposite armrest of the loveseat and sat on it. He was directly in front of you now, sitting with his hands placed neatly in his lap, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him if you tried.

He was crying. You don’t know when those tears started, but based on how wet his face was, you could tell that they had been going for what seemed to be a while.

“What did Josh tell you?”

You cursed at how pitiful he sounded. You could hear the pain and the need to make things better between you. He was shaking again, picking at his cuticles just the slightest bit.

As much as you wanted to curse at him, you couldn’t. You could also no longer keep yourself from answering his questions.

“He told me you were going on a date.” You tried to stay devoid of any of the emotions that were swirling inside of you. You wanted to stay calm. You didn’t want this to be any more painful than it already was.

You saw Danny tense. His breathing hitched, and he couldn’t look at you anymore. It only made you feel smaller.

“And what do you think about that?”

Uh oh.

He had barely whispered the question you hoped he wouldn’t ask at all, afraid of what you’d say if you kept your mouth open for too long to answer it. As much as you had tried to stay calm and collected, he had triggered something inside you. “What do I think? Do you really want my approval to go on a date with someone, Danny?”

He looks back up at you with his wide eyes. You had never rose your voice to him out of anger, and he was taken by complete surprise. He seemed to take offense to your statement and he rose to his feet defensively. “What? God, no-“

“Then what is it? I’ve felt like you’ve been stringing me along this whole time like a damn puppet. The last time I saw you, we were fucking CUDDLING, and now you want to know what I think of you going on a date?”

You were no longer laid back resting against the couch as you had been. You didn’t know when, but you had stood at some point to try to match his posture, even though he still towered above you.

“Y/N, for the love of god-“

“No, you need to listen to me,” your words sounded threatening, and you wondered why you felt the need to say all of this. It was over and done with. You should’ve cut your losses as soon as Josh told you, but you still couldn’t restrain yourself. “I feel used. I feel like you only wanted whatever affection you could squeeze out of me until someone else could come along. Why was I not good enough? I’ve been your friend for years now. We’ve gone through so much together, and when I finally think we are making progress, you tear it all away.”

He didn’t dare try to refute anything. He just let you yell in his face and lay soft blows on his chest. You were both thankful that he was letting you say your piece, but the fact that he didn’t deny any of it hurt you more than you could say.

“I have been in love with you for fucking ever. I thought you were at least starting to feel the same way. And why are you even here?! To rub it in my face that I was the stupid one for assuming-“

“Listen, it’s you!” He finally interrupted you, grabbing your wrists to keep you still, and you were glad he did. His admission took every word you had said, everything you were about to say, straight from your mouth. You both stared at one another, through one another. He was the first one to break the silence again.

“God, it’s been you this whole time, Bip.” He released his grip on your wrists and shifted his hands to clasp his fingers into yours. “I have been waiting for a while for you to tell me that you loved me, but then I realized I was dumb for not just saying it myself. I was going to do that today.”

“But Josh said-“

“Josh doesn’t know.” He shook his head at you, cutting you off. “I never told him who I was planning a date for. Just that I needed help.”

Stunned didn’t even come close to describing how you were feeling. In the past hour, you had gone from feeling content to sad. From that sadness stemmed frustration and anger. But now, you felt guilty and incredibly foolish. It was a silly crush on your best friend, and you had blown up because you thought the feelings weren’t reciprocated. You could’ve lost him, all because you already thought you did.

“You can hate me for not telling you sooner. You can hate me for not telling you before all of this happened.” He was shortening the little distance between you as he spoke, lowering his voice every time. “But, please, don’t hate me for loving you.”

And there it was. The word you had always wanted to hear, but were always too afraid to say to him first. It was ironic. When you had said it today, it was in passing, only because you feared that would be the last time you’d be able to say it. But he said it with assurance, as if he knew that would be the first time of many that he’d let it roll across his tongue.

His warm breath fanned over your lips, which were incredibly close to his. You longed to kiss him, you needed it. But you didn’t feel like you deserved to take his pretty lips into yours. You didn’t feel like you deserved his love.

“I- I’m sorry, Danny,” you stammered out. The tears were hot on your cheeks, and you felt the room spinning around you. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Shh,” he said as he brushed away some of your hair. He hated to see you like this, tears rolling down your beautiful face. But it was all so real that it made his heart leap. He took you into a tight hug. “You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”

You sobbed into his chest, and he never loosened his hold on you. You felt weak. Your legs felt like jelly, and you wondered how you were still standing upright. He held you while you repeatedly apologized, dismissing you each time. He sounded sincere, and you wanted to believe that he wasn’t upset with you, but you kept telling yourself otherwise.

“Bip, I swear it’s okay. We are going to have our first date, and it will be okay.”

Your tears were slowing, and the emotions were fading. “…even after all that?”

He nodded with his head still against the top of yours. “Even after all of that.”

His words brought relief, but you still couldn’t help but feel awful. You had just yelled at him. You had caused all of this over a simple misunderstanding. And yet, he still wanted to be there for you, with you, in that moment.

He started to sway back and forth slowly. You listened to his steady heartbeat, and tried to match your breathing to the timing of the drum under your ear.

“You know what I think will help you right now?” He pulled back only enough to see your face, petting the back of your head as he looked at you. He had a lighthearted smile across his face, and you immediately started to feel better.

“Some tea,” he stated matter-of-factly.

You couldn’t help but smile at him, always trying to please others in any way possible. Especially if he could through service.

“I don’t have any tea, I’m sorry to disappoint,” you respond through a laugh as you wipe the excess moisture off your face from the earlier tears.

He pulled his arms away from around you, much to your dismay. His smile grew to one of pride as he grabbed his keys. “Nonsense, I brought some myself.”

“You just happen to have some tea in your car?”

“I have a bunch of things in there for our date tonight. I figured it would help you sleep later,” he shrugged as he started to walk towards the door. “Give me just a second and I’ll be right back.”

Before you could argue that he didn’t need to go back in the rain or that he should let you help him, he was out of your apartment. You watched him as he carefully jogged across the slick pavement to his car. He held a hand over his head, as if that would stop him from getting rained on any more than he already was.

The reality of the situation hit you all at once, and you had to take a breath to keep yourself at bay. Everything had happened so fast, the change of direction gave you whiplash, but in the best way.

Once you saw him open the passenger side door of his car to grab a large tote bag full of stuff, you decided to go freshen up a bit. Your eyes felt swollen and puffy from crying, so you could only imagine how disheveled you looked right now. You went to your bathroom and shut your door. The reflection in your mirror didn’t look like you. Seeing the dried tear streaks from your red, irritated eyes, you could sense the helplessness that you had just felt minutes ago. You let your mind recount the yelling, the sobs, the way he held you like it might be the last time. All of the unnecessary pain and hurt from you both acting like silly teenagers, too shy to say how you truly felt.

You splash water to wash your face, focusing largely on your eyes and the salty tracks trailing your cheeks. Afterward, you mindfully applied moisturizer to your skin. It felt good to be doing something so simple to take care of yourself. Your mood lightened tremendously.

After you were done, the person in the mirror in front of you looked much more like you. Her expression matched the feelings inside of you. She looked happy. She was glowing.

Assuming you had spent enough time hiding in the bathroom, you went back out to meet Danny in the living room. But once you got there, you were met with a slight change of scenery.

During the short time you were away, he had placed fairy lights around the vicinity and lit many more tealight candles on the numerous surfaces of your home. He had laid out a variety of your favorite sweets and snacks, along with a bottle of wine, on the kitchen counter. You noticed that he had already started to brew a pot of tea. Over the back of the couch laid the fluffy blanket that you always snuggled with when you went to their place.

He had even started to play Cinderella on your tv.

You didn’t realize your mouth was wide open until you glanced over to a very smiley Danny at the corner of the room. He had his hands in his pockets, and he was nervously shifted from his toes to his heels. He blushed at your reaction.

“Dan, I’m-” You shook your head and blinked a couple of times, trying to make sure it was all real. “Josh helped you with this?”

He looked down at the ground sheepishly and looked back up at you. “He helped me plan a night out for us both, but the rain kind of ruined the itinerary, so I had to come up with something else.”

This was entirely, completely, Danny’s idea.

You let yourself stare in shocked silence for a moment longer, taking in how beautiful your living space looked, and taking in how beautiful this instance felt. In a place where everything had seemed to be falling apart just a bit ago, everything was beginning to fall right into place. Everything you had ever wanted was right there with you in the room where you stood.

“So what do you say, Y/N?” He prodded. “You want to see where this goes?”

You finally looked him straight in the eyes as a smile overtook your features.

“Absolutely.”

part 6>>>

thanks for everything you sweet angels <3 fully accepting ideas of how you guys think things are gonna go from here

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