#let's pretend this isn't two weeks late

[necnnights]

MERRY-GO-ROUND: NEON NIGHTS THE BEST is the fifth anniversary compilation album by fictional girl band NEON NIGHTS. It was released on July 12, 2024, a week after their fifth anniversary, and is the final Japanese album with guitarist QIUYUN. It contains twelve tracks: three new songs and nine re-releases of older music spanning their Korean discography as well. The album peaked at number seven on the Oricon weekly album chart.

Described by the band and critics alike as their “cutest album yet,” the three new tracks feature a brighter sound reminiscent of their first studio album. Like the vast majority of their music so far, the production was led by HWAJUNG. It is their second album to feature songwriting contributions from all five members, following their English-language debut from earlier in the year.

TRACK LIST

MERRY-GO-ROUND — Title track

Gachapon

Sneaker Cinderella

Cross - 2024 Version — The opening track of their debut album, INTENTION. Re-recorded.

We Are - 2024 Version — The lead single from the same album. Re-recorded.

Dice - 2024 Version — The lead single from their first EP, FIRST SIGHT. Re-recorded.

KICKASS - 2024 Version — A popular b-side from the same album. Re-recorded.

Deja Vu - Japanese Version — A b-side from their Korean magnum opus, NEW ISLAND OF UTOPIA. Translated into Japanese.

Jealousy - Acoustic — The second lead single from INTENTION. Acoustic arrangement.

That Won’t Save Us - Acoustic — A b-side from INTENTION. Acoustic arrangement.

I Know I Love You - Neon Nights Version — The title track of their first Korean EP, MIDNIGHT. Originally featuring FABLE’s Andrew and Mingeun.

(No More) Utopia - Symphony Version — The title track of NEW ISLAND OF UTOPIA. Re-arranged.

ERA NOTES

The elephant in the room is, of course, Qiuyun’s impending departure. They gave her a slightly different send-off with every show, and they had a lot of shows. Highlights included: part switches where Qiuyun sang a few songs (usually “Merry-Go-Round”), chose the encore songs (usually “仮面ミーハー女子”), and picked some of their stage outfits (she had Eden wearing dresses). 

No one seemed to be upset about this. In fact, it was the opposite. There were very few tears shed. Hwajung looked happy, despite being almost completely hidden behind her drum set for every show.

In their company’s usual cash-grab style, the album released with a lot of extra content. Besides the songs, each member wrote a letter expressing their thoughts on their anniversary. In the only attempt at marketing them to their widest audience, their words were translated into Japanese, Korean, and English.

The album also included a DVD of behind-the-scenes content for the re-recording of their songs, and another DVD of highlights from their careers so far.

Hwajung is still banned from her personal Instagram, but both she and Eunbyul alluded to disliking these business practices multiple times during live shows. At the same time, they both re-signed their contracts. So there’s that.

During a few shows, they took requests for songs for the first time instead of playing whatever they want. There were some deep cuts in there, especially when fans requested “Asphalt,” their second single ever. Yumi forgot half the chords, since it’s been eight years since they last performed it.

STYLING

[honeyjynxxed]

DeadTired Draft

"You're very good at pretending to be a shadow."

Tim's voice shook Danny from his quiet note taking and he looked up at his study partner with furrowed brows and confusion on his face. "I'm sorry?" It was as much a question as it was an apology which meant it was neither really.

Electric blue eyes pinned him in place, and Tim looked at Danny as if he had just said the sky was green. "If I had not been partnered with you in our ecology class I wouldn't know you exist. No one at this school knows you exist besides the staff and even then you're a name to a face to a grade. Nothing else. You're very good at pretending to be a shadow, a bodiless thing gliding along the edges of society."

Danny bit his lip slightly, mulling these words over. Tim was right of course, he never allowed himself to make waves, he stuck to the background of any place he was in, and really he was surprised that he wasn't more noticeable with how often Tim Drake-Wayne was his study partner. "I guess...I've never really like attention anyway. Why, you stalking me, Drake?" He raised a brow at the other boy, attempting to hide his confusion behind snark. He hardly ever used Tim's last name, either of them, but this seemed like an appropriate time to do so.

"Hiding something, Nightingale?" Tim snarked back but there was a bit of genuine questioning under his tone that had Danny tensing up in his sit, gripping his pencil a little too tightly in his left hand. "I can only contact you through your student email, you don't have a phone number or a phone period as far as I can tell, you have a laptop that barely works and seemingly requires a blood sacrifice to do the most basic of tasks. You live on campus but you never let me see your dorm, you never agree to meet me anywhere but the library on campus and I just-" He lets out a heavy sigh and runs his hands through his hair and suddenly Danny is a lot less tense in his seat. When Tim's eyes settle on him again there's genuine concern there and it breaks his heart. "I am worried. Daniel Nightingale doesn't exist outside of this college and it makes me think you're running from something or someone. If that isn't the cause then by all means please tell me I'm overstepping but Danny..." Tim reaches across the table that separates them and grabs at his free hand. "If you need help I'm here, ok?"

And oh...oh Danny's core positively sings in his chest at the admission. Protection was a major obsession for Danny and the way Tim talked, the way he explained his thought process, it made Danny feel warm and fuzzy inside despite the permanent chill in his body. Tim wanted to protect him and wasn't that so sweet? "I-" Danny stuttered before a sad smile was spreading across his lips and he gave the boy's hand a gentle squeeze. "I appreciate that but unless you have a way to somehow get an entire government organization disbanded and legislature revoked then I'm afraid this is out of your ballpark."

And really, Danny should've known better than to open his fat mouth. He should've known that the Fenton luck would bite him in the ass with his first real friend since Sam and Tucker. Tim may have dropped the conversation after that but by no means had he dropped the topic entirely. No instead apparently he had somehow gotten into contact with the Justice League because less than two weeks later Batman, Red Robin, Superman, and John Constantine of all people were waiting for him inside his dorm when he got back from a late night of studying.

What.

The.

Fuck.

[eph3merall]

dealer!chris x innocent!bff!reader <3

—

"yeah, s'okay mum," your voice is soft in the quiet of chris' room, lounging on his bed with your legs tucked to the side of you. a blanket lays over your legs, nodding your head softly when your mom says something back.

chris is pretending to not care. he's pretending to not listen in to your quiet voice, thumb mindlessly scrolling through his instagram. posts from his best friends, from his brothers, some posts from the chick he hooked up with a week ago. with a double tap on the post, he left her a like and commented a few heart eye emojis.

"no, 'm at a friends house," a pleasant call from your mom had you smiling—eyes crinkling at the corners and lips curling up. she's asked about school and how you've been in general, if you're up to anything. the topic of your living space came up and she questioned if you've been socializing more lately.

"no not maya's— i'm not even friends with her any– no it isn't lilah either.. mom," you're sighing as the sound of your mother's exasperated voice fills your ear. she keeps on listing off names, multiple of which you've forgotten or haven't spoken to in years.

you sit up a little, shoulders slumping gently as you flick your eyes towards chris. the back of his chair is facing you so you can't see what he's doing—but you hear the subtle click of a lighter and soon smoke is drifting up into the air.

"his name is chris. y'know. the guy i told you about? his brother nick introduced us—yes.. nick has brothers," you keep talking. chris listens. he doesn't catch every word though, having ended up zoning out for a second or getting caught up in his texts or something on his phone.

his chair creaks as he gets up from it, blunt in hand as he eyes you on his bed. you two lock eye contact before you just sigh at the sound of your mother rambling. "no, no he's a good guy. we're friends, mum, stop. yeah, no—okay, i gotta go. i'll call you soon."

you're blinking rapidly and sighing once you hang up, relaxing back against chris' headboard. he couldn't help but snort at your words, 'a good guy.' yeah, alright. he brings the blunt back up to his lips as he stalks towards you, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and reaching for a pair of shoes.

smoke filters out of his lips as he glances back to you and gives you a knowing look. "what's up w'you? lookin' all.. upset or somethin'. were y'not happy to talk to your mom or..?" his brows furrow slightly and he just blinks at you as you shrug a shoulder.

"she just kept questioning me about you. like, she kept asking me if we were dating. and like, it's annoying you know?" chris just snorts and turns his head back, sliding his shoes on and lacing them up. he was gonna head out to meet up with matt and nate, go to a party to make some money or something.

"didn't tell your mum i was a drug dealer, huh? big bad chris isn't a good influence on sweet lil—" you're shoving his shoulder playfully and shaking your head as a grunt sounds from him. settling back onto his bed, the image of him finally catches up to you as you see him in a pair of blazers and a hat fixed on top of his head.

"where are you going? thought we were gonna watch a movie or something," your brows furrow in confusion, staring up at him through your lashes. chris glanced back at you for one second before looking away quickly, letting the blunt hang out of his mouth in between his lips. fuck you for being so cute.

"yeah, i know. sorry baby, matt n' nate invited me to go to some house party," your cheeks involuntarily heat up at the pet name, even if you know he just lets it slip sometimes and it isn't anything special. rings of smoke waft up into the air as chris speaks, your nose scrunching at the smell as you frown in disappointment.

"oh," was all you managed for a second. you were kind of looking forward to finally getting to hang out with your best friend. alone. only for him to blow you off and say he's going somewhere. chris is at house parties almost every day every single week, why can't he just spare one extra day for his best friend?

at least, you hope he sees you as his best friend.

"well, can i go w'you?" the words are out of your mouth before you register what you said. horrible idea, actually. you hate parties. the loud music and sweaty bodies were always too much, and your parents always told you to stay away from people who did drugs or got wasted every day. and people at parties did that, a lot.

chris just blinks at you slowly, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. until he just nods and shrugs a shoulder, hand reaching up to grasp the blunt to take another huff.

"if y'wanna.. sure. hurry up n' put your shoes on, don't got all day kid."

—

@ferdzom @st7rnioioss @sturniolosarethebest

©eph3merall 2024

[coff33andb00ks]

vivvvv how about…

11 + 24 with lando 😊

"It's impossible to get rid of me."/"Are you awake or asleep?"

driver + number = drabble <3

maddie babe ily

warnings: disgusting perverted amount of fluff

Lando Norris is, in his own words, a little bitch.

Granted, he said those words when he was drunk and a moth flew too close to his face, but you'll never let him forget that he uttered them.

Nor will you let him forget you have video of him screaming in terror and running straight into the glass door of the balcony to get away from the moth.

It's what your friendship is based on: embarrassing moments that the other finds hilarious but no one else would understand. Like the time you spent three minutes telling a store mannequin what you were looking for, or the time Lando locked himself out of his apartment at four in the morning. He has a tendency of doing that, so much so that when it happens he shows up at your place.

Like he is now, in his joggers and slides, without his wallet or phone, smiling sheepishly at you like it isn't three a.m.

"Don't you have other friends," you grumble, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"None that'll answer the door this late," he sighs.

You sigh and step back to let him in, pretending to be unaffected by the scent of him freshly showered. "How'd it happen?"

"Took out the trash and thought I had my key in my pocket." He looks entirely too comfortable in your tiny apartment, shirtless and his hair still damp.

Nodding, you shuffle to your bedroom to collect the spare key to his place. That he'd given to you so casually, like it was a normal thing for him to hand out an extra key, when you knew it wasn't because even Fewtrell didn't have a spare key back when Lando lived in England still.

"C'mon, you know I'll need it. Besides, you're the only one I trust to have it." He dropped the key - attached to a Snoopy keychain that you remember him buying in Vegas - into your purse. "There. Now it's impossible to get rid of me."

As if you'd ever want to.

He follows you into the bedroom and you're painfully aware of your unmade bed and the clothes you'd left on the floor. Which is ridiculous, because it's Lando, he's been in your bedroom before, he's seen your dirty underwear–

Just not at three in the morning...

"Fuck," you mutter, turning your purse upside down to empty it onto the dresser. The essentials of your life spill out, lip gloss and gum and wallet and keys - but not Lando's because that one stays on its Snoopy keychain it's special - and hand sanitizer and notepad and six pens and tissues and the ticket stub from the movie he took you to see two weeks ago and a friendship bracelet and two pads. Everything but his key.

"Don't tell me you've lost it," he says.

You scoff at the idea. You may have lost your mind, your sanity, and sometimes your wallet, but you'd never lose his key. Your sleepy mind scrambles. Two weeks ago you pulled it to give to him and–

"Oh shit it's at my place," he mumbles, clapping a hand over his face.

"Lando!" you groan, sweeping everything back into your purse.

He's sorry, you're annoyed, and after bickering uselessly you tell him to just go to bed, he can get his superintendent to let him in in the morning.

It's not unusual to share a bed with him. Lando's a clingy, touchy feely person, half the time you travel with him he ends up taking you into staying in his room. Ostensibly because he likes to talk but really because he wants to cuddle.

"You awake?" he whispers in the darkness. "Or asleep?"

You don't answer, because you know he's about to say something profoundly sweet or incredibly stupid.

He presses his face into your hair and sighs, much like an exhausted dog finally settling down for a good sleep. "I do it on purpose sometimes," he whispers. "Cuz I sleep better with you than when I'm alone."

As confessions go it's probably your favorite. But you have to pretend you don't hear it. You're smiling though, and you let out a sleepy little hum. And you feel him smile.

[parfaitblogs]

perfect night 𝜗𝜚 s. reid x reader

in which your boyfriend pays not enough attention to you when you especially need it. 

spencer reid x fem!reader. fluff. 0.5k words. established relationship. reader is (semi) drunk and wearing makeup.

a/n: wrote this in 45 minutes. you can tell. i have a super crazy weird condition where i have to write fluffy drunk!r x spencer every two weeks or else ill die. apparently. here’s a draft because i feel like i need to post but also i have nothing to post..

spencer reid who looks up when his door handle rattles at the late hour of three a.m., though concern is nowhere to be found in his body because he can hear giggles and incoherent mumbling from the other side. who pretends to be engrossed in his work when you finally stumble inside, humming of the last song you remember listening to — poker face? maybe. you're not too sure, actually. your lips wet from licking them too many times, the top of them stained from reapplying your lip liner in your phone camera while drunk — you cannot properly do it in that state. 

spencer reid who doesn't even flinch when you slur out a 'hiiii' and climb into his lap at his desk, and only wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest with an acknowledging hum. who looks over your shoulder as he continues to scribe away at the paper in front of him, while you kiss all over his neck. spencer reid who turns his attention to you when your index finger pokes into his shoulder, asking 'what's wrong, honey?'. who laughs at you when you huff that he isn't paying attention to you, before explaining that he 'needs to finish this case report'.

spencer reid who compromises that by the time you finish showering and getting ready for bed, he will be done, and then he's all yours for the rest of the night. who laughs again when you very happily get off of him, and bounce towards the bathroom — you did crash into the wall right next to the door (he was concerned until you started laughing at yourself about it). who smiles when you return smelling less like alcohol and more like that body wash he oh-so loves, in his shirt which was another can of worms that had him smiling. 

who lets you climb back into his lap — now on the couch — and finally, finally pays you some proper attention. hands bunching the fabric of his shirt around your hips, staring at your still tipsy-induced grin. who traces circles on your hip bones and asks 'did you have a good night?'. who listens intently as you tell him everything that happened — or, as much as you can remember. which wasn't a lot, but he didn't seem to mind your long pauses and 'wait let me think's cutting up your explanation. 

spencer reid who waited until you confirmed you had finished telling him everything before he kissed you — an action you were sure he had wanted to do for awhile (he always waited until you had finished talking to kiss you. he refused to cut you off). who swallowed your laughter and randomised noises and huffs time and time again, until you were falling quiet and, eventually, limp. 

and spencer reid who must have taken you to bed when you fell asleep, because you woke up under blankets and to the smell of peppermint from the diffuser across the room for your head.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[halfmoonaria]

this christmas, without us

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: you and tara are forced to play the roles of a happy couple at the christmas dinner.

word count: 6.8k

author’s note: merry christmas!!

Tara didn't want to be there. Not tonight, not with you.

She'd been dreading it since the day Sam announced the Christmas dinner. The idea of sitting in a room filled with people who thought they knew the two of you, pretending like everything was the same as it had always been, made her stomach churn.

It wasn't the same. It hadn't been the same in weeks—not since she'd looked you in the eyes and told you the words she couldn't take back.

Even now, the memory of your face in that moment was enough to make her chest ache, a sharp reminder of what she'd done. You hadn't cried, hadn't yelled.

You'd just gone quiet, retreating into a silence that had spoken louder than anything you could have said. She'd expected you to pull away completely after that, but you hadn't. You stayed. For her.

Which was exactly why she shouldn't have asked you to come.

But she had.

She'd waited too long to bring it up, hoping—praying, even—that she could find a way to avoid the whole thing altogether. A last-minute excuse. Anything to save you from the act you'd have to put on, the mask of someone still in love when the truth was hanging between you like a storm cloud. But the excuses didn't come, and when Sam asked if she was bringing you, Tara panicked.

"Yes," she'd said, and that was that.

The alternative wasn't any better. Showing up alone would've only raised questions, questions she couldn't answer. Questions Sam wouldn't let go. Tara could already hear her sister's voice in her head, dripping with fake sympathy, every word a jab meant to land right where it hurt.

"Guess she finally realized she isn't good enough for you."

The worst part was that everyone would believe it. Because no one could imagine it was the other way around. No one would believe that Tara was the one who wasn't enough—not for you, not for the kind of love you gave her.

They'd all look at you, with your easy laugh and unwavering kindness, and then at her, the girl who couldn't even hold onto the one person who had ever truly cared.

But Tara wouldn't let them blame you. She couldn't. You had been everything she needed, more than she deserved. That much was true, no matter how much she wished it didn't hurt to admit it.

She thought back to the night she'd asked you, still sitting uncomfortably in her chest. It had been late—late enough for most people to be asleep, but she knew you wouldn't be. You liked the quiet of the night, the way the world slowed down and felt like it belonged only to you.

She hadn't forgotten that, even if she told herself she'd forgotten everything else.

Her fingers had hovered over your name on her phone for what felt like forever, the screen casting a faint glow in the dark of her room.

Calling you was the last thing she wanted to do, but she didn't have a choice. Texting would've been too impersonal, and not asking at all would've meant facing the group alone.

When you'd picked up, your voice had been soft, like you already knew why she was calling but were too kind to make it hard for her.

She'd stammered through her words, trying to keep the conversation going long enough to delay the inevitable. A part of her hoped you'd hang up first, that she wouldn't have to say it. But then, dragging it out only made it weirder. No one called their ex just to chat, not after ending things the way she had.

So she'd asked. It had felt rude even as the words left her mouth—asking you to do this for her, after everything. It wasn't fair.

But you'd said yes.

No hesitation, no bitterness. You didn't even sound mad. If anything, you'd sounded... calm. Maybe even relieved, though Tara didn't understand why. She'd thanked you quietly, trying not to choke on the lump in her throat as she ended the call.

If she'd dreaded the Christmas dinner before, it was nothing compared to now.

Tara sat on the edge of her bed, her room a chaotic mess of discarded outfits strewn across the floor. She'd started with something casual, but it felt too careless. Then something dressier, but that felt like trying too hard. Nothing seemed right.

Was she trying to impress you? The thought made her stomach twist, and she shook her head, trying to push it away. No, it wasn't that. Or maybe it was. Was she trying to look like she was doing fine? Like she wasn't crumbling inside every time you so much as glanced at her?

She caught herself wondering if you were supposed to match. The idea was stupid, ridiculous even—you'd never done that when you were together, so why would it matter now? And yet the thought lingered, a small, nagging question she couldn't ignore.

Tara sighed and stood, rummaging through the closet one last time before her fingers brushed something familiar. She pulled it out, the soft fabric bringing a fresh wave of guilt crashing over her.

It was one of your shirts. Dark green, fitted in a way that hugged her frame a little too tightly. You'd left it behind without a second thought, and she'd never returned it—never even offered to, though you hadn't asked for it back.

She hesitated, holding it up in front of her. It wasn't like she had many other choices; nothing else seemed to work. Maybe you wouldn't notice. Or maybe you would, and you just wouldn't say anything.

Pulling it over her head, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The shirt clung to her, accentuating her small frame. She frowned, brushing invisible creases off the fabric. It felt like a bad idea, but the clock was ticking, and she didn't have time to overthink it anymore.

With one final glance in the mirror, Tara grabbed her coat and headed out.

The drive to your apartment was supposed to be short, but Tara stretched it out, taking detours she didn't need to take. Her hands tightened on the wheel as she tried to calm the nerves twisting in her stomach. It didn't help.

She'd been the one to suggest picking you up. It made sense—if they thought you came together, no one would ask questions. And you'd agreed without hesitation, like you always did. That only made her feel worse.

You'd always been like that in the relationship, too. Agreeable. Too accommodating. Even when Tara didn't deserve it.

When she finally turned onto your street, she spotted you immediately. You were standing near the curb, hands buried deep in your coat pockets as snowflakes dusted your shoulders. Your cheeks were flushed from the cold, and you shifted on your feet, trying to keep warm.

She felt a pang of guilt. Had she taken too long?

As she pulled up, she tried to focus on the road ahead, but her eyes kept flicking back to you. You looked so... pretty. Gorgeous, even. The kind of gorgeous that made her chest ache.

But she wasn't allowed to think that anymore.

You climbed into the car, bringing a rush of cold air and the familiar scent of your perfume. It hit her all at once—clean, warm, unmistakably you.

You smiled at her, soft and unassuming, like this wasn't tearing her apart inside. "Hi."

Tara forced herself to smile back. "Hi." Her voice sounded steadier than she expected, but her hands tightened around the steering wheel.

"Did I keep you waiting?" she asked, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

You shook your head lightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It's not that cold."

Tara nodded, focusing on the road ahead. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't easy either. She glanced over at you more than she should've, her eyes darting between you and the road. It wasn't safe, but she couldn't help it.

She hadn't seen you since... that day. She didn't let herself think too much about it, but the absence had been loud, impossible to ignore. She wanted to see if you'd changed, if the time apart had shaped you into someone she wouldn't recognize.

But you hadn't, not really. Your makeup was the same, soft but striking, though it was hard to tell in the dim light. What caught her attention was your hair—curled, just like you always liked it. She couldn't forget that detail, not after how often you used to mention it.

Her chest tightened as she pulled into the driveway. The house was already lit up, warm lights spilling out through the windows. Tara shifted into park but didn't move to get out.

When you reached for the door handle, she found her voice. "Wait."

You paused, turning to look at her with an expression she couldn't quite read.

Tara swallowed hard. "You don't have to do this. I mean, you don't have to do things you don't want to." Her voice wavered, betraying the guilt clawing at her insides. "I already feel bad enough for bringing you here."

You stared at her for a moment before your lips curved into another soft smile. "It's fine, Tara. Really."

There was something in your tone—something that felt like forgiveness, or maybe understanding. Whatever it was, it made her chest ache.

You opened the door and stepped out, and for a second, Tara just sat there, staring at the space you'd left behind. Then she followed, pulling her coat tighter around her as the cold air bit at her skin.

The crunch of snow beneath your boots filled the quiet, rhythmic and steady, but it only seemed to make Tara's heart race faster. Her breaths came in small, uneven clouds of white against the cold night air, and the house—Sam and Danny's house—felt simultaneously too close and too far.

Her hand flexed at her side, fingers twitching with the urge to grab onto something, anything, to steady herself. Instead, she settled for another glance at you as you walked beside her, bundled up tightly in your coat.

When you finally reached the porch, Tara stopped just short of the door, her eyes darting nervously to your hand before you raised it to knock. The sharp sound echoed, muffled slightly by the snow-covered world around you.

The footsteps from inside were quick and loud, growing nearer. Tara swore she could hear her own pulse in her ears, each beat screaming louder as the steps approached. And then, before she could even register what was happening, your hand slipped into hers.

The touch wasn't firm; it wasn't clingy or desperate. It was light—practiced in a way that made her chest twist painfully.

Of course, she told herself, it was just an act. You were just trying to make it look believable for everyone inside, the story you both had silently agreed to sell tonight. But as her fingers curled around yours in reflex, Tara couldn't help but wonder why she wanted to hold on longer than she should have.

It doesn't mean anything. The words echoed in her mind, a mantra she tried to cling to as tightly as she clung to the warmth of your hand.

The door swung open a moment later, and Chad's bright, too-loud voice broke through the tension like a hammer.

"Hey! There they are—the lovebirds!" He stepped into the doorway, his grin wide and genuine, his voice carrying enough energy to fill the whole porch. "We were starting to think you'd bailed on us."

Tara felt her throat tighten, her lips pressing into a small smile that she hoped looked convincing.

"Never," you said smoothly, the lightness in your voice so practiced that it almost made Tara's knees buckle. How were you doing this? Acting like it didn't tear you apart as much as it tore her apart?

Chad didn't wait for more of a greeting before pulling you both into one of his signature awkward hugs, his long arms wrapping around both you and Tara in a way that left Tara stiff and unprepared. "Good to see you two," he said as he let go, stepping back and ushering you inside with a sweeping gesture.

Behind him, Mindy and Anika appeared, both smiling warmly at the sight of you.

"About time," Mindy said with a teasing grin, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her eyes flicked between you and Tara, sparkling with mischief. "We were betting on how late you'd be. I said fifteen minutes. Anika said twenty."

"It's seventeen," Anika chimed in, nudging Mindy with her elbow. "So technically, we both win."

"Technically, we're both losers for betting on their arrival time," Mindy shot back, though her voice was light and playful. She gestured for you both to come inside, her grin only widening.

As soon as you stepped over the threshold, the warmth of the house hit Tara like a wave—cozy and overwhelming all at once. She hesitated for a moment, letting you move ahead to slip off your coat. When you let go of her hand to shrug the jacket off your shoulders, the cold absence of your touch hit her harder than it should have.

The living room was just as she remembered, glowing softly with Christmas lights that lined the walls and a tree in the corner. The scent of pine hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of something warm and spicy coming from the kitchen. It was homey, inviting—and everything Tara didn't want to face tonight.

"Finally!" Sam's voice rang out from the hallway, and Tara tensed instinctively, her head snapping toward her sister. Sam's sharp eyes scanned the both of you, her expression hovering somewhere between teasing and judgmental. "What'd you do, get lost on the way here?"

Danny appeared at Sam's side, his easygoing smile balancing out her sarcasm. "Better late than never," he added with a chuckle, offering you a nod in greeting.

Tara risked a glance at you, but your expression was unreadable—calm and steady, like a mask she couldn't see past. She hated it. She hated how distant you felt even when you were standing right there, hated how you could smile and joke when she felt like she could barely breathe.

"C'mon," Chad said suddenly, breaking the moment with a clap of his hands. "Food's getting cold, and I'm starving. Let's move this along."

The others began filing into the dining room, their chatter filling the space and making it seem smaller somehow. Tara lingered in the entryway for a moment longer, trying to catch her breath and slow her racing heart.

She glanced at you one last time, her stomach twisting as she watched you follow the others inside. The way you moved—the way you held yourself—felt so painfully familiar and achingly distant all at once.

Tara exhaled shakily, forcing herself to take a step forward. The night had only just begun.

The dining table was a mix of warmth and chatter, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and silverware scraping against plates. Laughter echoed from one side to the other as stories were exchanged, and it should have felt cozy, comforting even, but Tara could barely breathe. She sat beside you, stiff as a board, pretending to listen as the others talked, though most of her attention was on you.

You looked so composed, so poised, effortlessly keeping up with every question thrown your way.

"So," Chad started, leaning forward with a grin that was far too wide. "What's next for you guys? Got any big plans?"

Tara froze, her heart lurching. She parted her lips to speak, but you were faster, the practiced ease in your voice cutting through before she could even form a word.

"Yeah," you said, smiling as if it didn't weigh you down. "We've talked about traveling a lot. We both want to see more of the world."

Your voice carried such sincerity that Tara almost believed it. Almost. The smile you directed at her was soft, genuine, the same one you'd given her a hundred times before. It sent a pang through her chest, sharp and unforgiving.

Tara swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod along like nothing was wrong. But everything about this was wrong.

"That's amazing," Anika chimed in from across the table, her tone warm and encouraging. "You two would have so much fun. Where would you go first?"

"I think Europe," you replied easily, the answer rolling off your tongue like you'd rehearsed it. "Tara's always wanted to visit Italy, so maybe we'd start there."

Tara's stomach churned. Italy had been one of her dreams for years, but now it was just another casualty of the life you two had planned together—a life she'd ripped apart.

The guilt was unbearable.

But what shattered her completely was when, as everyone nodded and hummed in agreement, you placed your hand on her thigh.

Tara's breath hitched, the weight of your touch sending a jolt through her. Her fingers twitched at her side, unsure of what to do. But then instinct took over—old habits she couldn't quite let go of. She reached for your hand, placing hers over yours like she always used to.

Her thumb brushed lightly against your skin, the motion automatic and gentle. She glanced at you, mustering the smallest smile she could manage. It wasn't like the bright, radiant smiles she used to give you, but it was something.

And you returned it, your eyes meeting hers briefly before you turned your attention back to the others.

Tara wanted to crawl out of her skin.

When the conversation shifted and someone else started talking, her gaze remained fixed on you. She watched as the mask slipped from your face, just for a second, but long enough for her to see the cracks beneath it.

She saw the way your fingers fidgeted nervously, tangling together and picking at the edges of your nails. She noticed how your plate remained mostly untouched, the food moved around but barely eaten. You barely spoke when the spotlight wasn't on you, your posture sinking into the chair as the conversation moved on without you.

And Tara knew.

She knew you didn't want to be here. She knew you didn't want to sit at this table and laugh along with everyone as though nothing had changed.

And worst of all, she knew why you were here—because she had asked.

The guilt burned hotter in her chest, clawing its way up her throat. She wanted to scream, to stand up and tell everyone what she had done. That she was the reason you were like this, the reason everything was falling apart. She wanted to tell them she'd broken up with you. That she'd hurt you in ways she didn't know how to fix.

But she didn't.

Because she was a coward.

Because she'd brought you here for selfish reasons—to avoid the questions, to keep up the facade for just a little while longer.

The conversation shifted as plates began to empty, and the atmosphere turned lighthearted, playful. Someone—probably Chad—brought up the future, and soon everyone was chiming in, laughing and teasing each other about who would hit the next major milestone first.

"So," Anika said, her tone mischievous as she leaned forward. "Who's gonna be the first to get married?"

Danny chuckled, placing his arm around Sam. "Probably us, right?" he said, glancing at her with a grin. "I mean..."

Sam rolled her eyes but didn't hide her smirk. "Don't start, Danny."

"And the first to have kids!" Mindy chimed in, winking. "Come on, you two are like parents already. It's only a matter of time."

Laughter rippled across the table as Sam shook her head, muttering something about how she wasn't even thirty yet. The conversation quickly turned to Chad, who became the next target of teasing.

"And Chad here," Mindy added, throwing an arm around his shoulders, "is definitely not in the running for any of this since he's still single."

"Hey!" Chad exclaimed, feigning offense. "I'm just waiting for the right person, okay? I'm picky."

"Oh, we know," Anika teased, and everyone laughed again.

Tara tried to keep up with the banter, forcing herself to smile and laugh along, but she couldn't relax. Not with you sitting beside her, radiating the kind of quiet composure that was both impressive and heartbreaking.

The teasing shifted again, this time focusing on marriage.

"What about you guys?" Chad suddenly asked, his gaze flicking to you and Tara.

Tara tensed, but you didn't miss a beat, smiling politely as you shrugged. "What about us?"

"Well, you guys are like... the couple," Chad said, gesturing between the two of you. "I mean, if anyone's gonna tie the knot soon, it's definitely you two."

Tara's heart dropped into her stomach, and her throat tightened painfully. She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, but you didn't react, your expression as calm and effortless as ever.

She tried to speak, but her voice caught, and it wasn't until someone said your name that she realized they were still talking.

"Right?" Mindy added. "You two are like grossly in love all the time. It's a little nauseating, honestly."

"What?" Tara blurted, her voice a little sharper than she intended. She quickly cleared her throat, forcing a weak smile as she tried to reel it back. "I mean... what?"

Her attempt at sounding casual wasn't entirely convincing, but no one seemed to notice.

"Oh, come on," Mindy said with a grin, leaning back in her chair. "You guys look at each other like the rest of us don't even exist. It's adorable but also sickening. Like, give the rest of us a chance to shine, will you?"

Chad jumped in, nodding enthusiastically. "Seriously, you two are always all over each other. I'm honestly surprised you haven't eloped already."

"Or at least gotten matching tattoos," Anika added with a laugh.

Everyone was chiming in now, talking over each other, their voices blending into a blur of comments and laughter. Tara's ears rang, and she felt like the walls were closing in on her.

Her gaze flicked to you again, and you smiled—actually smiled—like none of this was bothering you. Like you weren't sitting here pretending that everything was fine when, in reality, it was far from it.

Tara swallowed hard, forcing herself to join in the laughter even though her chest felt like it was caving in. She clenched her hands under the table, nails digging into her palms as the guilt clawed its way back up her throat.

She wanted to scream. To tell them all to stop. To tell them the truth.

But she couldn't.

Because this was her fault. And she wasn't brave enough to face the fallout of her own mistakes.

The conversations blurred together as Tara sat at the table, her mind too preoccupied to follow along. She kept her eyes on her plate, pushing the food around with her fork, too aware of you sitting beside her, your presence filling the space between them like an unspoken weight.

She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, catching the way you tilted your head as you listened to Mindy tell a story, your lips curling into a soft laugh at the punchline. It was the kind of laugh that reached your eyes, but Tara knew it was wrong. It was forced.

Nobody else seemed to notice.

That's what hurt the most.

She saw the way Chad playfully nudged you, Anika smiling at your responses like you hadn't just lost everything. Even Sam, as perceptive as she could be, remained blissfully ignorant. They all laughed, joked, teased as though nothing had changed.

But Tara knew better.

She saw the tiny details—the way your hands trembled slightly when you reached for your drink, the way you blinked a bit too much when someone mentioned something sentimental, like the future or happiness.

It was in the way you turned your head toward her just a little too late when someone directed a question at the both of you, as if you didn't quite trust yourself to look at her right away.

And it was tearing her apart.

Tara's guilt sat heavy in her chest, weighing down every breath she took. She had always prided herself on being observant, on knowing you better than anyone else. Now, that knowledge felt like a curse.

When you laughed at another one of Chad's jokes, she couldn't help but remember the way you used to laugh with her. Not like this—not forced, not hollow, but real, pure, alive. That laugh had been one of her favorite things about you.

She had stolen it from you.

Her hands tightened into fists under the table, nails digging into her palms, leaving little crescents behind. She wanted to leave. She wanted to stand up and pull you outside, away from all of this, away from the questions and the stares and the suffocating air.

But she couldn't.

Instead, she sat there, silent and still, drowning in the memories of what used to be.

Like the way you used to rest your head on her shoulder during long car rides, your hair tickling her cheek as you murmured about whatever came to mind. Or the way you used to hold her hand without thinking, your fingers curling perfectly around hers as though they were made to fit.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt that.

The Tara from back then—the Tara who loved you so deeply it scared her—felt like a stranger now.

Her eyes burned as she blinked back tears, her gaze fixed on the flickering candle in the center of the table. She had no right to cry. No right to feel this way. Not when she had been the one to let you go.

I don't love you anymore.

The words echoed in her head, haunting and sharp. She had said them so easily, hadn't she? Like they didn't mean anything. Like they weren't the end of everything you'd built together.

But they had been.

Her throat tightened as someone across the table said her name, jolting her out of her thoughts. She blinked, her eyes darting to yours as you turned to her, a question lingering on your face. She hadn't heard what they'd asked, too lost in the storm of her own regret.

You answered for her, your voice calm and steady, effortlessly filling the gap she left behind.

And that was what killed her the most.

Because she realized you didn't need her anymore. Not the way you used to.

But God, how she still needed you.

The dinner was winding down, everyone still buzzing with conversation and laughter as plates were cleared and dishes were passed toward the kitchen.

You'd joined the shuffle at first, picking up your share and helping where you could. But after a few minutes, you paused, wiping your hands on a napkin.

"It's really hot in here," you said lightly, voice even as you glanced around the room. "I think I'm gonna step out for some air."

No one thought much of it—Danny nodded absentmindedly as he carried a stack of plates, and Chad cracked a joke about the crowd being the real cause of the heat.

But Tara noticed. She noticed how your smile didn't quite reach your eyes when you spoke, how your fingers lingered on the back of one of the chairs before you finally turned to leave.

Her chest tightened as she watched you step out, closing the door behind you. She told herself it wasn't a big deal, that you were probably just overwhelmed like anyone would be.

The house was crowded, the air thick with the scent of food, candles, and too many conversations happening at once. It made sense to need a moment.

But a part of her couldn't let it go. What if you weren't just cooling off? What if you'd decided you'd had enough? Tara knew it was selfish—knew it was her fault you were even here in the first place—but the idea of you leaving, of walking away from this final thread of connection, made her stomach twist.

After a few minutes of trying and failing to distract herself by helping Sam and Mindy dry dishes, she gave in. She grabbed her coat from the back of a chair but didn't bother to put it on as she slipped outside, the cold hitting her immediately. Her breath puffed out in soft clouds as she scanned the porch.

You were there.

Leaning against the railing, your arms braced on the snow-dusted wood like the cold didn't bother you. Tara's steps were quiet as she approached, but the faint creak of the boards and the crunch of snow beneath her shoes announced her presence. You didn't turn, though. She didn't expect you to.

It wasn't until she was standing beside you that she noticed the cigarette. The faint orange glow lit up your fingers as you raised it to your lips, the smoke curling up into the night air.

She blinked, thrown off. You? Smoking?

The memory of countless conversations came rushing back. You had hated the smell of cigarettes when you first met. You'd begged her not to pick up the habit, your voice firm but your eyes soft as you reminded her how much it had bothered you growing up. You'd even tried to get Sam to quit once, though that hadn't gone anywhere.

"I didn't know you smoked," Tara said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

You didn't flinch, didn't even seem surprised. Maybe you'd heard her coming.

"Me either," you replied simply, taking a slow drag. You exhaled, the smoke mingling with the cold air as you added, "I took one from Sam's pack. Think she'll notice?"

Tara's stomach churned at the casualness of your words. She wanted to ask why. Wanted to tell you that this wasn't you, that you didn't have to do this—especially not because of her. But instead, she forced a small laugh, her breath shaky as she said, "Probably. She counts those like they're her kids."

You huffed a laugh at that, the sound dry but genuine.

Tara shoved her hands into her pockets, trying to ignore the way her fingers itched to reach for yours.

She told herself it wasn't her job to worry about you anymore. She'd forfeited that right when she'd said the things she'd said, done the things she'd done.

But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, the knot in her chest didn't go away.

The porch light cast a dim, uneven glow, its bulb faintly flickering, like it was moments away from giving out completely. Tara figured Sam had been telling Danny to change it for months now, but of course, nothing ever got done until it absolutely needed to.

But under that weak light, you looked radiant. Your features softened against the backdrop of snow, the glow highlighting the curve of your cheekbone and catching in your eyes whenever you glanced at the cigarette in your hand. The cold brought a flush to your cheeks, and a stray curl brushed against your temple, no doubt loosened from the wind or your absentminded movements.

It wasn't just how beautiful you were in that moment—it was the way you looked exactly as you had two years ago. The same girl Tara had fallen in love with. The girl she couldn't get enough of, who consumed her every thought and who made her believe in a love so fierce it terrified her.

And yet, you were also the girl she said she didn't love anymore.

She swallowed thickly, her chest aching as the memories hit her all at once. She thought about how many nights she'd spent staring at you across a table just like this, thinking about how lucky she was. How lucky she had been. And now? Now she'd forced you here, to this Christmas dinner, just because she couldn't bring herself to tell the people closest to her the truth.

The truth that she'd broken you.

You were facing away, your gaze somewhere out in the snowy darkness, but before she could stop herself, the words slipped out, quiet and unbidden.

"You look really pretty."

Your head turned toward her slowly, the cigarette still balanced loosely between your fingers. The porch light illuminated your face, and it was only then she saw the sadness in your eyes. It wasn't anger, frustration, or bitterness. It was a quiet, aching sorrow that somehow felt worse than anything else.

"Please don't say that," you said softly.

Your voice was steady, but the words cut through her like a blade. She didn't need you to explain; she knew exactly what you meant.

Why would she say that? Why would she tell you how beautiful you were when she'd been the one to shatter everything between you?

When she'd been the one to tell you she didn't love you anymore? For all she knew, you still loved her. Maybe you were still clinging to what she'd so carelessly cast aside.

Her throat tightened as she looked at you, helpless to say anything else. She wanted to take it back, to swallow the words and pretend they hadn't been spoken. But it was too late. She'd opened her mouth and let herself slip, and now the weight of her own guilt was unbearable.

Because as much as she told herself she'd ended things to spare you—to spare herself—she couldn't ignore the truth.

She still thought you were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. And she hated herself for it.

The silence between you stretched out, heavy and suffocating. Tara felt it settle deep in her chest, wrapping itself around her ribs until she could hardly breathe. She'd made a mistake—again. Speaking without thinking. Letting the guilt spill out in ways that only made things worse.

But it wasn't just the guilt. It was the shame.

She hadn't even apologized. Not properly. Not for how she ended things, not for the way she left you to pick up the pieces while she avoided facing the truth of what she'd done. She had no excuse for it—only cowardice.

She couldn't stop herself this time. The words clawed their way up her throat, and her voice came out trembling, low and unsteady.

"I just..." she started, but her breath hitched. Her vision blurred, and she blinked quickly, trying to keep herself together. "I'm really sorry. About how things ended between us."

You didn't move, your expression unreadable as you stared at the snow-covered street ahead. Tara's chest felt like it was caving in.

"I just wanted you to know that," she added, her voice even quieter now. She bit down on her lip to stop it from trembling, her hands clenched tightly at her sides to keep them from shaking.

She didn't know what else to say, how to put into words the regret that was swallowing her whole. Her heart ached with the weight of everything she couldn't undo, everything she couldn't take back.

All she could do was stand there, her breaths shallow, waiting for whatever you would say in return.

The air felt colder now, biting at Tara's skin, but she barely noticed. She was too caught up in the silence that followed her apology, every second stretching unbearably long. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and for a moment, she thought you wouldn't say anything at all.

But then you spoke, softly, almost as if the words didn't carry much weight to you anymore.

"I know."

Tara blinked, stunned by the simplicity of your response. She wasn't sure what she'd expected—anger, maybe. Hurt. Anything but this strange, calm acceptance.

You took another drag of your cigarette, exhaling smoke into the cold night air before adding, "I am too."

The words hit her harder than she thought they would. They felt surreal, bizarre even. As if this was the first time you'd been honest about how you felt since the breakup, but also the first time Tara realized that honesty wasn't going to fix anything.

Her throat tightened, and she didn't know what to say. What could she say to that? Apologies felt hollow now, and explanations were meaningless. She had already said everything she could.

All she could do was stand there, her gaze fixed on you as you leaned against the railing. The faint glow of the porch light cast soft shadows over your face, and even now, even in this moment, Tara thought you looked beautiful.

And just as beautiful as you were, the truth of it all settled painfully in Tara's chest: you were done being hers. And there wasn't anything she could do to change that.

The silence stretched between you both, thick and heavy, like neither of you knew how to move forward or retreat. Tara's throat felt tight, her apology still hanging in the air. She wanted to say more, but her courage faltered. You stood there quietly, flicking the cigarette's ash into the snow, your expression unreadable now.

Before she could find the words to say anything else, the porch door creaked open behind her.

"Come on, lovebirds," Anika's teasing voice cut through the moment, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Time for gift-giving before Chad opens all his early."

Tara stiffened, heat rising in her cheeks as Anika's words sank in. She forced herself to glance at you, but you didn't even flinch. Instead, you gave Anika the same soft, effortless smile you'd been wearing all night—the one that didn't quite reach your eyes.

"I'll be right in," you said lightly, flicking the last of the cigarette into the snow before turning back to the railing.

Anika lingered for a moment, her eyes flicking between the two of you like she was waiting for something more. But when neither of you moved, she gave a quick shrug and disappeared back inside, the sound of her laughter fading into the warmth of the house.

Tara stayed frozen in place, staring at the closed door, her heart pounding against her ribs.

"You should go," you murmured, not looking at her. "They'll start asking questions if you don't."

She hesitated, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She wanted to say something, to break through the mask you were wearing, but she couldn't find the words. And maybe that was the point—there was nothing left to say, nothing that would make this easier or less painful.

With a quiet nod, she turned and walked back to the house, each step feeling heavier than the last. As the door shut behind her, the noise of the dinner enveloped her, but her mind stayed outside, on the porch, with you.

Inside, the world felt wrong. Too loud, too warm, too suffocating. Sam called her over, Danny was laughing with Chad, and Anika was already pulling Mindy into the gift pile, but all Tara could focus on was the pit in her stomach and the way her chest ached.

Her legs moved on autopilot, carrying her back to the living room, but her mind kept circling the same thought: she should've stayed. She should've stayed with you on the porch and said everything she couldn't say before. She should've explained why she ended things, even if she didn't know how to make it make sense to herself.

Because you deserved more than this. More than her selfish need to keep up appearances. More than her cowardice disguised as convenience.

She sat down on the couch, forcing a smile when Chad joked about something she didn't catch. She could feel Sam's eyes on her, like her sister could sense the storm raging inside her, but for once, Sam didn't press. The guilt sat like a weight in Tara's chest, heavier now than ever, pressing down on her ribs until it hurt to breathe.

She thought of the way you looked under the dim porch light, the snow falling softly around you, your features so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. You were the girl she fell in love with two years ago, the girl she shared everything with, the girl she said she didn't love anymore.

But that was a lie. A lie she told herself so many times she almost believed it.

She didn't know if she loved you the same way now, but she knew one thing with painful certainty—she didn't stop. And she hated herself for letting her fears, her insecurities, and her flaws destroy what you had.

As the gift-giving began and the room filled with laughter and excitement, Tara's smile stayed fixed in place.

But her heart stayed on that porch.

[slushyxcx]

Marlboro Reds

Summary: Hamzah, desperate and touch starved, struggles to articulate his desires for you and the tension between you two grows in a delicate dance of intimacy and uncertainty.

Chapter 1

Hamzah is slumming it on the balcony at Martin’s place on a Friday night.

Hamzah doesn't want to think about his week, or the endless pile of worries that he’s ignoring until they topple over and bury him. He just wants to let the sweet burn of nicotine scorch his lungs and quiet his mind. 

But of course the moment Hamzah isn't distracting himself, he’s thinking about things he shouldn't think about. 

Things like you. 

You live halfway across the world but you're here to visit Mandy. You and Mandy have been friends since you both were teenagers, Mandy swears you were the one who was the bad influence but you absolutely disagree. Especially the stories of how after Mandy started driving, the both of you never went to class. You’re a bit eccentric, and so beautiful.

But other days you’re solemn, closed off, your gaze a million miles away. Faded, like a ghost of yourself. And Hamzah isn't sure why no one notices, why your faked smiles are so easily believed. 

And there’s Hamzah’s favorite you (if he thought a lot about you, which he doesn't, but like, if he did), the you with the gang. You seem freer with them, looser and more uninhibited in the presence of only your friends. You curse more, make darker jokes and catch Hamzah’s eye with that sly smirk when you do, announce nerdy facts at random, roll your eyes and express emotions that you otherwise seem to keep contained. You don’t drink unless it's a party with the people you’re close with, your plastic cup otherwise filled with water or the host’s half assed attempt at mixers, you only smoke weed with Hamzah and you slip cigarettes out of your pocket like you’re used to keeping them hidden.

This you is the closest to the truth, Hamzah thinks, or maybe they're all different sides of the same person, like the way water changes shape but never composition. 

It’s only recently that you have become a main character in his life, shifting from an untouchable ideal to someone real and tangible. Because lately- 

Lately, you have been gravitating toward Hamzah, finding him in Martin’s office after recording a video, wandering up to him at parties, or stopping by his place to drop off whatever Mandy baked that day. 

Hamzah never seeks you out, never initiates your time together, but he can’t bring himself to avoid you either. Instead he holds his breath, pretending he isn't glancing at the door of every party, lingering at Martin’s place, waiting to see if you will find him. 

It’s just that you seem content to be in Hamzah’s presence, comfortable with sitting in silence when he is too angry or too high or too drunk to converse, ready to banter and tease when he is up for it. Maybe because Hamzah returns the favor, understanding on sight when you are not speaking for the day or remaining unfazed when your eyes get unfocused and paranoid. 

But other than that, Hamzah does not think of you at all. Definitely not. And he doesn't even care that he can sense you creeping up on him.

He knocks the cigarette on the edge of the balcony, watching the ashes flutter down to the ground below, then speaks:

“You gonna hide in the shadows all night?” 

You step into the light with a sheepish expression, hands tucked behind your back like you expect him to scold you for being there. 

“Hi Hamzah.” 

“Hey,” he uses your last name just to see your face scrunch up in a pout. 

“Don't call me that.” 

“No?” Hamzah finishes his cigarette and taps another two out of the carton, wordlessly passing one to you as well. He knows you don’t like his brand, preferring the fancy, European ones that you keep in a little silver monogrammed case like goddamn royalty, but lately you've been slumming it, accepting Hamzah’s humble cigarettes from their crumbled box. “Shouldn't you be saying I can call you whatever I want, as long as I call you?” 

“Something tells me you still wouldn't call,” you reply dryly, your words sliding out around the cigarette in your teeth, leaning forward with it between your lips for Hamzah to light. 

It is, for Hamzah, unbearably intimate, but he’s never been one to back down from a challenge, so he holds eye contact with you as he brings the lighter up, flame flickering. And it's worth it, because it makes you smile that small, secret smile as you lean back, taking the cigarette out of your mouth so you can exhale the smoke to the side. You are so beautiful, it almost makes Hamzah forget they’re technically holding a conversation, even if the words feel like just an excuse to keep their eyes on each other, to shuffle closer to speak. 

“Think you've got enough people calling you.” 

“Yeah? Maybe I should go smoke with them.” 

“Hey, you followed me out here,” Hamzah points out. “I was fine here without pretty girls stealing my cigarettes.” Oh, that's an accident, a little too far over the line between banter and flirting, but it’s hard to regret it when it makes you blush so prettily, all pink cheeks and long fingers and smoke.  

“Hmm.. and how many other pretty girls do you have stealing your cigarettes?” Your gaze flickers up and down Hamzah’s figure, evaluating, maybe, or sizing him up, or maybe just looking for the sake of looking, drinking in his presence. 

Hamzah grins at the slant of jealousy in your tone, one you’re not quite able to hide. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?” 

You narrow your eyes a bit, playing your part, but Hamzah can see you're distracted, something else on your mind. You bring the cigarette to your mouth and inhale slowly, turning to look out at the darkness as you exhale the smoke, ignoring Hamzah’s watchful eye. 

Hamzah finishes the cigarette, stubbing it out on the bannister he’s leaning against, and levels you with a look. 

“Just spit it out already.” 

“Hmm?” You feign innocence, but Hamzah won’t fall for your little cowed, pretty girl act. You may be a mystery, but he knows you, can read you better than most, at least.  

Hamzah rolls his eyes. 

“Whatever you’ve been working yourself up to say since you came out here.” 

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to smoke.” 

“If you wanted to be somewhere quiet, you wouldn't have crashed at Mandy’s and Martin’s in the first place.” 

You huff, “fine.” You take a careful step closer to him, your gaze searching. “Are you high?”

He shifts against the bannister, eyeing you. “Not yet.” 

“Drunk?”

“Nah,” he crosses his ankles, elbows propped on the bannister. “Why?” 

You hum, staring up at the sky. Usually he might wait it out, let you work up to it, but it’s been a long week- his patience is running thin. 

He calls out your last name.

“I just want to make sure you’re like.. hmm.” You tap one finger against your lips, searching for the word. “Coherent?”

“Coherent for what?” He asks, wary, but maybe not as wary as he should be, because he trusts you too much. 

You inhale from your cigarette for a long, drawn out moment, until your lungs must be burning, then exhale out the smoke in a cloud around you. Even through the fog, your eyes stay on Hamzah, that deep, penetrating gaze, like you can see right into his soul. You open your mouth to speak, then shut it again. 

“What is it?”

“Do you- I-” you start and stop, biting your lip as you hesitates. You take a fortifying breath, then:

“Can I kiss you?” 

Hamzah could've guessed all night and still would not have predicted this phrase to fall from your perfect lips. He doesn't even have a sharp quip to respond with. 

“... What?”

You smile at him shyly, looking up through your eyelashes, bashful in a way that must be an act because Hamzah’s never seen you be uncertain about what you want.

“Can I give you a kiss?” You repeat, voice soft and low, so different from that practiced, cheerful tone you use around strangers, around the others even.

Hamzah waits for more, for some explanation, but nothing comes. 

“Why?” He can’t help the defensive, accusatory slant to his voice, automatically falling back to anger. “Is this a pity thing?” 

You are unfazed by the heat in his voice. Your gaze flickers to the side like the answer might be there, then returns to Hamzah. The look in your eyes slides into something more genuine, a little nervous, a bit less coy. The real you. Hamzah unconsciously leans forward, automatically drawn to you.

“I just want to kiss you. But I don’t want to do something you don’t want.”

But why do you want to kiss me? He wants to blurt out, the idea so incongruent with reality.

“Uh,” Hamzah swallows, licks his lips. What does it say about him, that a kiss makes him so uncertain, that he can't remember the last time he was intimate with someone? What does it mean, that your act of basic human decency, asking for consent, makes his knees weak, makes his heart twist painfully in her chest?

He should say no. 

He really should say no. Hamzah knows all the reasons he should say no, but god. It’s been a long week in a long year in a long life, and Hamzah is tired. He’s tired of holding back, of starving for contact, of hoarding any signs of affection. He’s so fucking tired, but this is you, you who have never asked him for anything but for him to be himself, and so Hamzah lets down his walls, however slightly, lets himself answer this one question honestly. 

“Sure.”

“Really?” You don’t sound surprised, not really, but more like she’s seeking reassurance. Like she needs Hamzah to be sure. You study him, scanning his posture as if you’ll be able to determine if he really means it. “Are you sure? You don't have to. Honestly.”

“Yeah, uh. Yeah. You can kiss me. Or whatever.” Hanzah knows he’s blushing, he can feel the burn on his cheeks, so he has to hope it’s dark enough that you can’t tell. 

Hamzah’s forced nonchalance is not even a little believable, but you don’t comment on it- you never do. 

“Alright,” you say, soft as anything, as if it’s that simple, that easy. 

You step closer and Hamzah can’t help it, the way his breath hitches in his throat, the way he digs his nails into the soft flesh of his palms to resist flinching backward. 

Your eyes search his own, although Hamzah doesn’t know what you’re looking for. Whatever it is, you must find it, because you nod your head like something has been decided and then close the distance between them. Hamzah takes one more stilted inhale-

You raise your hands up, hold him by his cheeks and drag him close. Your lips meet, and his teeth bump into yours but everything fades into hazy bliss, slots together like a missing puzzle piece. Your lips, tender as honey exploring the taste of his tongue. It’s sweet and addicting, so much so that he gets dizzy and pulls away and fuck—he’s wrecked. Messy curls, teased by your clawing fingers stick up at odd angles, a rosy flush over his skin. You cup his cheek and he leans into your touch and plants a fleeting kiss over your palm.

He knew the kiss was a mistake.  

Hamzah was fine, was just fine without being kissed or tenderly touched or any of that shit, and now how the fuck is he supposed to continue on like he was before when now he knows what it feels like to be held by you? When now he knows how it feels to have your hand gently carding through his hair, the press of your body against his own? 

The safety, the security, the warmth

Fucking hell. 

Now Hamzah knows what he’s missing.

It's like the first time he smoked weed and discovered the way the drug lifted his worries off his shoulders, made the world light and easy to handle for a few hours. How could he resist it after that?

And how can he resist you now? 

He spends the weekend in a daze, restless and on edge. He walks into Martin’s place like he’s approaching the guillotine, somehow convinced that everyone will take one look at him and know. He slinks over to Martin’s office, in absolute denial that he’s glancing around looking for you. He doesn’t see any sign of you until after they’re done recording today’s Episode video. He and Martin exit the office and he spots you immediately - in an oversized shirt with a pair of shorts, Fish on your lap, and you’re with Mandy watching Real Housewives of New York. He doesn’t drag his eyes away fast enough, so soon enough he’s ensnared in your gaze. He watches your gaze flicker from that polite smile to something hungrier. 

He spends the whole afternoon with you guys, binging season 8, on the opposite chair  trying not to imagine he could swap places with Fish. How it would feel to rest his head on your thighs, and have you run your slender fingers through his curls

After, in the kitchen, when he’s on his way to leave and go home, Mandy comes close to brushing his arm as she passes him and Hamzah flinches away like he’s been shocked, slamming his own shoulder into the hard metal of the fridge in his effort to avoid being touched. The noise makes everyone turn to look at him, and Hamzah flips them all off so they’ll go back to their own fucking business. Everyone looks away, except- 

Except you, whose heavy gaze stays focused on him. It should make him feel worse, should make him squirm under the scrutiny, but instead it just makes Hamzah feel hot, like he’s basking under the shine of your attention, a blush crawling up the back of his neck. He is so fucked.  

Hamzah hurriedly scuttles out of the house before anyone can question him. 

Once he’s relatively safe a few metres away, Hamzah lights a cigarette and takes a deep inhale, scolding himself internally. Why is he acting like a total freak over a fucking kiss?

He smokes the cigarette down to the filter, nearly burning himself, then drops the remains to the ground and suffocates it beneath his shoe. By the time he hears your footsteps approach, it’s dusk, the sun not quite gone but night hanging over the scene like a blanket. It occurs to him that he’d run away in case you would come looking for him. But maybe he hadn’t yet accepted that you would come looking for him. Or maybe he hoped he would. 

“Hey Hamzah.” Just like you did the other night. 

Hamzah scowls as he calls you by your last name.

You cross your arms, hip cocked, and look Hamzah over. It’s only now he’s noticing your huge obnoxious Homer Simpson slippers and god, have your legs always been this long? Hamzah barely resists pulling out another cigarette, just for something to do with his hands. 

“You wanna talk about what’s got you all worked up?” 

So casual, like you haven’t been the only thing on Hamzah’s mind since Friday.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he practically hisses, defensive anger automatically winning out. 

“No,” you agree with a sigh. “No, you don’t.” You hesitate and your stance softens, a look of guilt flooding into your eyes. “Listen- if I overstepped, or crossed a line-”

The only thought more intolerable than how much he wants a kiss is you thinking that the kiss was a mistake. 

“Don't finish that sentence,” Hamzah snaps. “Stop being so.. so…”

“So…?”

“So understanding! So patient! Can’t you just fucking yell at me or something?” 

“Why would I yell at you?”

“Because! Because I want- I want-”

How can Hamzah explain the embarrassment that is always tangled up in his want, the humiliation that comes with his desire? 

You have that glint in your eyes again, like you’ve got Hamzah right where you want him. Like you’ve caught him at last. 

And maybe Hamzah wants to be caught. 

“If you want something,” you say slowly, “all you have to do is ask for it.”

Hamzah could fucking scream. He turns away from you abruptly and starts pacing, working himself up into a frenzy. 

“Listen. Listen.” 

You cross your arms and watch him pace with a bemused expression on your face. “I’m listening, Hamzah.” 

“You… you just.. and now.. and how am I supposed to?” 

“Starting with a full sentence would probably help,” you offer. Hamzah scowls even more, his pacing wearing a path into the gravel. 

“FUCK. Okay. Okay.” 

Hamzah stops abruptly in front of you, throws up his hands, and faces you head on. He can do this.

“Okay, you know… when we hung out the other day.” 

“Up on the balcony? Yeah, I remember,” you say easily. Like maybe you’ve been thinking about it too. 

“Right. So, you can like..” he throws one hand vaguely in the air, gesturing, “like. Whenever. You know?” 

“No…?” Now you are pressing your lips together like you’re trying not to smile, one hand coming up to twirl a wayward lock of hair around your finger. “Can you be more specific?” 

Hamzah huffs. “You know what I mean!” 

“Hm… I don’t think I do.” 

Hamzah squirms, glaring down at the gravel and dirt beneath them and scuffing at it with the toe of his shoe. “Fucker..” he mutters under his breath, then looks back up at you and your smug, expectant eyebrows. 

“When we… kissed.” He grits out.

“Oh, when we kissed? What about it?” You would probably be more obnoxious if you weren’t so radiant when you smile, beaming at Hamzah like you’re proud he even brought it up. Hamzah focuses on that joy and lets out all his words in one breath. 

“You don’t have to ask, alright? Like… if you want to kiss me, you can just kiss me. Whatever. I mean, maybe not in front of everyone all the time, cause the last thing I need is all those guys thinkin’ something’s going on, but like.” Hamzah gestures a bit more, then lets his arms fall to his sides. “You get it.”

He’s a coward, truly, because Hamzah knows he should just say I want to kiss you or will you kiss me please? He knows he should just be honest about what he wants, but he can’t. It’s easier to pretend he’s doing this for your sake, like he’s doing you some big favor, when the opposite is true. 

“Okay.”

Hamzah pauses. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Good to know,” you say with a shrug, rubbing your arms. It’s the middle of winter, in Canada, and it’s fucking freezing. He should’ve offered you his jacket when you first came out after him. God, he’s such a fucking idiot. 

He blinks, his eyebrows drawing together. 

“Oh. You don’t…?”

You raise one eyebrow, unfairly attractive. “What?”

“... Nothing.” Hamzah shakes his head, unwilling to articulate his dissatisfaction with this. “I’m gonna go.” He attempts to shuffle away, but you move closer instead, freezing him in his tracks. 

“Oh, did you want to kiss now?” You press one hand to your chest in fake surprise, pretending you haven't known exactly what Hamzah’s wanted from the beginning of the conversation, a smile edging at your lips despite your clear attempt to hide it. 

“Well not anymore, you asshole,” he huffs, turning his head away so you can’t see the flush of his cheeks and also because looking at your smirk directly is like looking at the fucking sun. “Forget it.” 

“Hamzaaah,” you sing-song sweetly, opening your arms, giving him plenty of time to step away if she wanted to. “C’mere.” 

Hamzah isn't even sure why he bothers pretending to be grumpy, because the moment you get closer, he drops his crossed arms, unable to pretend he’s not desperate and eager for your hold. 

“Whatever,” he mutters, but the second half of the word is lost.

The catharsis is so sweet. Sure, it’s the chemicals in his brain, the oxytocin and hormones that are released during physical touch, or whatever, but it’s also the way you hold him, the grounding, tender touch.

He hears the breathy little moan you let out, like you’ve been waiting for this, like you’ve been holding your breath, like you didn't think you’d ever get to kiss Hamzah again. And fuck , the sound makes sparks shoot all through him, gives him the courage to shift his head slightly and press his lips, fleetingly, to your bare throat and hear you gasp, your grip on Hamzah tightening.

The both of you sway slightly, you rocking them both like a stilted waltz, a dance for just the two of you. Hamzah takes a moment to breathe, to let his frantic heart rate slow, relishing the way your fingers are drawing errant shapes on his back. 

“Do you want to get out of here? We can just drive around or something.” 

“Depends…” you drawl as you let your hands drop to his waist, tucking your fingers through the belt loops of Hamzah’s trousers so your bodies are still connected. “Can I smoke in your car?”

Hamzah hums, tapping his chin in fake consideration. “For you? I’ll allow it this once.”

[onmyyan]

So I'm imagining a bit of a silly concept, but imagine delivery driver!reader with yanderes Dick and Jason. Like they'll keep ordering from the place reader works in hopes that reader will show up (and she will - your boss got fed up with all the 1 star reviews when anyone other than you shows up) but they act like creeps trying to get you to join in on their movie night or whatever. They totally don't realize they're being creeps, though - this is their darling! They would never scare her! But like reader gets fed up with them "propositioning" her so she has her boss put them on the do not deliver list. The boys are surprised (they knew her boss was sending all those other drivers on purpose! 🙄), but it's nothing a call to Barbara can't fix (she wants to be an Auntie ASAP - platonic yan Barbara, perhaps?)

It starts with a simple delivery to Wayne Manor, one insignificant package set their sights on you, but could you blame them? That smile when you handed Dick the package, the pretty laugh you let out when Jason said something witty, it wasn't their fault you enamored them with a single meeting, and it didn't help when you delivered their second package, about a week after the first, and remember their names, the audacity to do such a thing and not expect them to fall in love.

Anytime someone other than you shows up they're met with the coldest glares, Dick is short with them, no banter no charm, Jason straight up doesn't speak to anyone that isn't you.

They don't start to get creepy until about week three, that's how long their resolve lasts before Dick is inviting you in for a drink, you must be hot in that uniform of yours, why don't you come inside? It's cool in the manor and he's sure your boss wouldn't miss you for a few minutes.

Jason, to his credit, really does try to be casual about his interest, of course it's anything but casual, he pretends to be working on his bike when you come to get his signature, purposely showing off as he takes his time signing, intense blue eyes staring at you with an intensity that made you sweat. He says a pretty girl like you shouldn't have to work so hard, that you should have someone to take care of you, you grit your teeth biting out a smile as you snatch the tablet back as soon as he finishes signing.

It isn't until your latest delivery do you put them on the do not deliver list, as usual they were together when you rang the doorbell, Dick smiles so brightly at you, you'd think you were delivering the stars in a neatly wrapped box. "Hey (y/n)!" He greets you like a long time friend instead of someone you'd only spoken to a handful of times, "You mind bringing that inside?" He asks the question and despite its oddity, you comply bringing the package inside.

Jason closes the door behind you, causing you to jump, when the hell did he get here?

"Good to see you bunny." He was always calling you pet names, far too intimate for your liking, he smirks before taking the box from your hands, his fingers purposely brushing against yours. "You're like a little messenger fairy."

You choose to ignore him, turning to Dick, you hold out the tablet for him to sign. "We'll get to that in a minute- why don't you sit down for a sec?" He sits on the couch patting the spot beside him. "I gotta get back to my route-"

"it's midnight, you guys stop delivering after midnight right?" Jason speaks up causing you to look at him, he looks way too satisfied with himself, catching you in a lie. Feeling trapped you sit on the couch reluctantly. "What's up?" You ask looking between the two, Jason remains standing his beefy arms crossed across his chest. God he made you uneasy.

"we've noticed how hard you've been working lately and since we're friends-" you don't hide the confusion on your face at the proclamation, "-We figured you could use a break." Dick spoke almost as if he was nervous. "Come on bunny, take a load off." Jason finally sat down sandwiching you between the two.

"or- and hear me out on this one, you sign for your package and I leave?" They share a look before Dick is almost sadly signing the tablet. "Well if you ever wanna just chill or something-"

You don't hesitate you leap off the couch and run out the door, heart slamming so hard in your chest you felt the rumble in your throat.

You thought you'd be done with them after putting their names on your company's do not deliver list, and for about a week you are, until they realize what's going on and collectively lose their minds.

Barbara couldn't stand seeing two of her closest friends so down, so unlike themselves, once they explain the situation to her she's quick to act, understanding their... particular intensity when it came to love, and clearly you'd stolen their hearts, she couldn't stand to see them so upset so she quickly devizes a plan to get you back where you belong.

All it takes is hacking into your company's files to find your route and schedule, it's like child's play to her to set up the meeting, she ordered a shit ton of stuff all for you unbeknownst to you of course, all items you'd need for your upcoming vacation, Bruce had a few private islands for situations just like this one, and it be the perfect place for Dick and Jason to break you in. By the time you left the little slice of paradise, you'd be a perfect little darling.

With a smile too pretty for her deeds, she presses confirm on the order and sends a text to the guys.

"Your Darling is approaching with your order."

[dollfacefantasy]

second thoughts ♡

toji fushiguro x fem!reader

your ex keeps popping into your head during sex with toji, so he'll just have to make sure you can't think at all instead

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, dumbification, mentions of intrusive thoughts

tags: @gor3-hound @nexysworld

"Right here," he growls, "Look right here. Right in my fuckin' eyes."

His large hand held your head in place by your jaw. He gives it a sharp jerk, jostling your thoughts into place. Making sure you're completely focused on him. His lower half thrusts against you hard and fast, stretching you out with each rock of his hips.

"'m lookin'" you whine, your lips parting as little mewls fly out.

"Good. Good girl," he grunts.

The muscles in his abdomen flex as he keeps pounding into you. He wasn't taking it easy on you tonight. He was determine to make sure you couldn't think of anything but him.

The past couple of weeks things had been off between you two. Since you started dating, your relationship had always been very physical. You had sex once a day at minimum, and when he wasn't inside of you, he had a hand somewhere on your body. He may have struggled with true intimacy, but physicality came easy.

The problem he'd noticed recently was you didn't seem as into it as you usually were. You seemed kind of spaced out. You got pretty quiet when you were typically vocal.

His first reaction was insecurity. Was he not pleasing you? Were growing bored of him? The possibility of that unnerved him to his core, but he tried to convince himself those couldn't be true. You never denied him when he initiated, and you still loved to cuddle and hang off his arm whenever you could.

After another round of you looking distracted while he was balls deep, he finally just had to ask.

"Sorry..." you'd said, looking up at him sheepishly, "I just... I'm having trouble focusing."

Your tone almost made him feel guilty for asking, but your reasoning didn't answer all his questions. He knew you had trouble with concentration and intrusive thoughts sometimes. He just didn't think it would apply to this.

"Focusing?" he murmured, ducking down to plant some kisses on your cheek, "Am I not doing it right, baby? You know... I'm open to pointers."

"No... it's not that. It's just..." you continue. You hesitate as to whether or not you should actually tell him.

"C'mon, angel face," he said, nuzzling your jaw, "You know you can tell me. I want you to feel good too."

"You do make me feel good," you reassured, "It's just that I can't get my brain to be quiet. And when we're doing it, I keep thinking of my ex boyfriend, and it doesn't feel good. I don't like him at all, it's just like my mind wants to bug me."

Even though the idea of you thinking about another man during sex causes jealousy to flare within him, he reins in the instinctive anger he feels. By the pained look on your face, you clearly were just as displeased with it as he was. And while it hadn't happened in a while, he couldn't pretend like he'd never had his late wife dance through his thoughts in the heat of the moment.

So he didn't make you feel bad about it. He sighed and told you it was ok. You wanted to finish though and so he got you both to finish. He held you after like always and let you fall asleep against his side, but in his own mind, he planned for things would be different next time. There was no way he was gonna let some other guy keep you from enjoying yourself with him.

That's what led the both of you to now. He keeps your gaze locked with his own as fills you to the brim. Your eyes are glossy but with the haze of pleasure now rather than distraction, and he can't enough of it.

"That's right, babydoll. It's all me now, isn't it?" he coos lowly in your ear.

"Mhm," you whimper and nod, your head bobbing extra from his momentum.

"No room for anyone else," he grunts and digs his fingers into the plush of your cheeks.

Your lips puff out under the pressure, and he leans down to mash his mouth against your own. The kiss is wet and sloppy, your saliva and his mixing together while he nips at your bottom lip. He ruts into you faster, his breaths growing more ragged.

"Fuck.. Toji," you whimper arching your back and pressing your tits up against his chest.

"That's all you're gonna be able to say when I'm done with you, sweet thing," he says.

You whine and nod. That was what you wanted. Just him. If he was the only thing on your mind, you were happy. A big, dazed smile drifts to your features to match your fucked out eyes.

"That's a biiiiig smile, princess," he coos mockingly, "Who's making you smile like that?"

"You are," you whimper.

"Right. No one else can make you smile like that," he says.

You nod again and yelp when his cock rams into a sweet spot inside you. He chuckles at the sound and lifts his hands to rest above your head, caging your body below his.

"My baby. You're all mine. Mine to fuck dumb every. single. night," he pants.

"Don't want anyone else. Just you," you babble and drag your nails down his back.

"I know it," he says.

He then quickly reaches down, securing your hips with an iron grip and fucks into you as deep as possible. You see stars stars and let out a sound you can't control. You tighten around him like a vise, keeping him nice and deep where you need him.

"My Toji," you slur and bring your own hands back up to slide through his hair.

He moans quietly, and his eyes flutter shut. His hips sputter a bit as he feels his release creeping up on him.

"Gonna cum soon, dollface. Get you nice and full of me so even when I pull out, you know who that pussy belongs to," he mumbles.

You mewl in ecstasy, eager to feel him shoot deep inside you.

It doesn't take long for you to get your wish. His body lowers against yours, his flushed, sweaty skin sliding against your flesh. He pumps into you desperately with a groan as he drains himself between your tight, velvety walls.

He lets it all sink inside you before pulling out. His cock is still slick with your arousal. He leans back and pushes your thighs up, taking a look at your pussy stuffed full of his cum. Just how it should be.

Up top, you were still blissed out. He huffs out a laugh at your drooping eyes and contented expression.

"How you feeling, baby?" he asks and crawls back on top of you to give you some lazy smooches.

You hum and rub your nose against his cheek. Words were too hard right now in the best way.

He smirks and nips at your nose teasingly.

"Head all clear?" he whispers.

"Mhm," you say with satisfaction, opening your eyes wider and taking in the face of the man who had you now, mind and body.

[supernovafics]

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k words

summary: in which it’s hard to see eddie with anyone who isn't you

warnings: friends to lovers to friends again (kinda), explicit language, alcohol consumption, very brief mention of weed, pining, angst

author’s note: this is fully inspired by the song "new love" by girl in red. enjoy<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“She’s right over there. Should I do it?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

Eddie nodded at your words and then he was standing up from the long patio chair that you, him, and Robin had been occupying for the past thirty minutes, and heading over to where his newest crush stood with a few of her friends. 

Robin let out a laugh. “I don’t get it.”

You turned your head to look at her. “What?”

“How you guys can still be friends right now. You only broke up like two months ago.” 

Making the promise to stay friends post-breakup was the only thing that made the breakup feel a thousand times less terrible. And it sounded easy enough— you and Eddie were simply just going to go back to how things were before you started dating.

“We’re better off as friends,” He had said to you that random Wednesday night back in January and you nodded understandingly. It was amicable and mutual, and eventually— maybe, hopefully— the barely five-month relationship would be a funny little story to reminisce about with each other years down the line.  

You took a long sip from the red cup in your hand and then shrugged at Robin’s words. “I don’t know. This just works somehow. It’s better.” 

You had been telling yourself that lie a lot lately— maybe almost too much. But, it was easier to pretend that that lie was the truth and that everything was fine, instead of thinking that maybe you made a mistake that night when you found yourself agreeing with Eddie and let things end between the two of you. 

“No offense, but so weird,” Robin said with a shake of her head. “So, who’s this new girl he’s into anyway?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Eddie had told you a lot about her— how she saw one of his band’s shows recently with a few friends and how she kinda ran in the same-ish circles— but most of what he said about her went in one ear and out the other. Hearing him ramble on and on about a new crush hurt more than you thought it would. Even more than when you two were actually just friends and you were harboring what felt like a hopeless crush on him for years before finally admitting it.

Breaking up was supposed to save you both from more heartbreak in the long run, but most of the time it felt like it was only making things worse. Sometimes you wondered if Eddie felt the same way— if he regretted it as much as you did. 

It was almost too obvious that he didn’t, though, because he didn’t waste a second moving on. 

New girl, new crush, new love. All of which wasn’t you anymore. 

You looked away from where he stood next to the girl— you were only fifty percent sure her name was Ally. She was happily laughing at whatever Eddie had just said to her, and he was smiling widely. 

“I’m gonna go inside and attempt to find the bathroom,” You told Robin before downing the rest of what was in your cup and placing it on the ground, and then standing up.  

She looked up at you. “Want some help?” 

“No, it’s okay,” You shook your head. “I’ll be right back.” 

You kept your eyes down and away from Eddie as you walked into the house, a place that was way too small to have this many people in it. The inside was packed to the brim with a bunch of unfamiliar faces, and that was the main reason why you, Robin, and Eddie immediately retreated to the backyard once the three of you showed up. The only reason you all knew about the party was because of a friend of a friend of someone that Eddie met at The Hideout a few weeks ago.

You maneuvered through the throngs of dancing people and groups of friends talking loudly over the blasting music and headed up the stairs, hoping that it would be a bit more calm. 

The universe must have been somewhat on your side because you found the bathroom on your first try. You didn’t even need to use it, you just wanted a moment of quiet. And even though you could hear the muffled sounds of the song playing downstairs through the shut door, it was still good enough.

You leaned back against the sink and let out a long breath. 

It was hard not to think about Eddie with Ally and how happy they looked, even though it was only one of their first few conversations. All you wanted to do was take her place. All you wanted was for him to want you like that again. 

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard, this complicated. Being just friends again was supposed to be the best thing to do, and you now wanted to bitterly laugh at yourself for stupidly believing that thought two months ago. Most of the time, that night played back on what felt like a continuous loop in your head. You kept wondering if you should’ve done things differently; if you should’ve, maybe, fought harder to keep what you two had. 

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

You had immediately laughed at Eddie’s soft-spoken words, thinking that he was joking, but when he didn’t join in, you were furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“This just doesn’t make sense, y’know? We’re graduating soon, and then we’re gonna be going in completely different directions. You’re leaving Hawkins, and I already know that I’m gonna be stuck here.”

You were quiet because you had no idea how to respond to that. Maybe it was only half-right— yes, you were going to be headed to a college that was not in Indiana at the end of the summer, but you truly couldn’t imagine Eddie being “stuck” anywhere.

“We’re better off as friends,” He continued. “Neither of us can get hurt that way.”

It was all so surprising and felt entirely out of nowhere, but you could tell by how he said the words that he had been thinking about this for a while. There was a part of you that could understand what he meant, the sad why behind it all, so you decided to lean into that. Because, in a way, he was kind of right— the deeper you fell for each other, the more painful the heartbreak would be in the end, and the harder it would be to leave in August. 

But, shit, you were already in way too deep. 

You still felt yourself nodding in agreement with him anyway, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do. “Okay.”

“So… just friends again?”

You simply nodded again and gave him a small smile. “Yeah, of course. Just friends.” 

Now you felt so dumb for saying that, for agreeing to the idea. You couldn’t be “just friends” with Eddie Munson anymore. 

There was a loud knock on the door that abruptly pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Sorry, one sec,” You yelled out to the person on the other side. 

You let out another breath and didn’t bother looking in the mirror to see if the sadness you were feeling was written so clearly across your face. Mainly because you knew that it definitely was and it would be too hard to replace it with a fake smile, anyway. 

A random girl was rushing in before you were even fully out of the door, and you hoped that she was doing better than you were at that moment, but it didn’t entirely seem like it.  

You decided that you wanted to go back outside and settle yourself back in your spot on the patio chair next to Robin, and you also really wanted another drink. The idea of blurring your thoughts for the rest of the night didn’t sound like the worst idea ever.  

You made your way to the stairs and before you even started heading down, you spotted Eddie walking up. He easily noticed you too and he smiled before meeting you at the top of the stairs after a second. He looked at you for a moment and then his eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, reaching out to place a hand on your upper arm. It was such a subtle and simple action, but it still made you feel way too many things at once. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” You answered, giving him a weak smile, and then immediately changed the subject so that he wouldn’t question you further right then. “How’d it go with Ally? That’s her name, right?” 

“Yeah, it is. But, that ask-out completely crashed and failed because she said that she just started dating someone.” 

“Oh, sorry,” You told him, not because you actually felt it, but because it simply felt like the right thing to say at that moment. 

“It’s fine,” Eddie shrugged. “What’s the dumb saying? There’s other fish in the sea or whatever.”

You let out a forced kind of laugh. “Yup, right.” 

“You sure you’re okay?”

For a second, you considered lying again; it would’ve been the best and simplest thing to do. You could’ve said that you weren’t feeling well and you needed to just head back outside and get some air— you should’ve just said that. But then, suddenly, all you could think was fuck it.

“I can’t do this.” 

He looked at you, confused. “Do what?”

“Be friends with you. I can’t go back to how things were with us before we dated. And I know that I have been doing it for the past two months, but I can’t anymore.”

“But, we decided—”

“I know,” You interrupted him. “I know what we decided, but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy to do this. To just turn off my feelings and pretend that I’m not still in love with you.”

Surprisingly, it actually felt good to finally be honest about everything that you had forced yourself to bury over the past few months. It felt as if a weight was being lifted off of your shoulders. 

“It’s not easy for me either.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at Eddie’s words. “Yeah, because talking to Ally out there looked really painful and hard for you.” 

“That doesn’t…” He trailed off as he shook his head. “That doesn’t mean anything. I promise. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss you, or us.” 

“Then why are we even doing this right now? What’s the point?”

You two had somehow moved away from the stairs and instead were standing further down the hallway, closer to the bathroom that you had left barely two minutes ago. 

“I just,” Eddie began and then sighed. “I know it’s gonna hurt like hell letting you go in a few months, and maybe doing it this way is easier. It’s not at all easy, but maybe it’s better? I don’t know. Most of the time it feels so fucking stupid, and I feel like an idiot for what I did that night… But, maybe it was the right thing to do.”

You considered his words for a moment. Just like that night two months ago, a part of you could recognize that he was at least a little right. But, this time you decided against leaning into the small part of you that wanted to simply agree with him because it made things seem “easy.”

“You know me,” You ultimately said, stepping a little closer and finding his hand. “I overthink everything. I think about every possible outcome for any and every situation. But, this is the one thing that I don’t want to think that far ahead about. And maybe that’s stupid. And maybe we will end up feeling terribly heartbroken at the end of the summer, and we’ll regret not just leaving things like they are right now. But, I’d rather that, than to keep pretending that everything is fine and normal. Somehow that feels so much worse. Why can’t we just enjoy this, us, for what it is before we have to give it up?”

Eddie didn’t say anything at first and that worried you. You braced yourself for the inevitable rejection, and you were already telling yourself that you would be okay with it because at least you tried this time around— you had finally said the words that you wished you’d said that night. 

But then he was kissing you. It was abrupt and sudden and you hadn’t seen it coming, even though it was exactly what you wanted to happen. He was pulling his hand away from yours and immediately reaching up to cup your face in both of his hands. They were cold, but you still felt as if you were on fire. 

It was probably only him that could affect you this much and this easily. You didn’t realize how much you missed the feel of his mouth on yours and how much you missed having him close to you in this way until it was finally, finally happening again. 

Your mind briefly traveled back to the last time this happened. It was the night before the breakup and the two of you were smoking weed in your backyard, sandwiched together in one patio chair instead of sitting in separate ones because it just felt right to do, and the close proximity allowed your lips to easily find his.

“I love you,” Eddie mumbled against your mouth now, which also reminded you of that last time. “I’m sorry I made us lose the past two months.”

Your hands were fisting themselves into his black t-shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “It’s okay. Doesn’t matter.”

And technically, it really didn’t, at least not in your head. You were just glad to be here in this moment with him. It wasn’t too late. You two still had time. 

“It’ll be okay,” You told him in between kisses. Maybe you two should have found a bedroom or simply moved anywhere that was out of the dark hallway and away from potential prying eyes, but that didn’t feel like the most important thing to do right then. “Whatever happens in the end. It’ll be okay.” 

Eddie was nodding as he pressed you back against the wall and his hands dropped to your waist. “Okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

[darkbluekies]

Silas, Dr Kry & King Edmund drabbles: rainy day activities

Yandere!mafia, yandere!doctor & yandere!king (x fem) x reader

Warnings: mentions of punishments, violence, poisoning

Silas:

Silas gets a confused look from his second in command.

"This is insanity", he mumbles.

"Meh, relax a bit, won't you?" Silas asks and removes his shirt, throwing it at him. "It's just rain."

You're already out in the rain, lying down on the grass in an 'X'-shape. Silas walks out into the backyard and lies down beside you. He enjoys hearing your free, little giggles.

"You're such a child, you know that, right?" Silas smirks and looks at you.

"I haven't felt rain for a long time", you say and frown, feeling your heart sink. "I can't actually remember when ... when I felt it last. I just want to feel it again."

You've been spending quite some time in the basement these last weeks. If only you could behave. Partly why you were allowed to go outside in the rain, despite the threat of becoming sick, might just be some guilt. Hearing you giggle makes everything worth it. And seeing through your wet clothes is a bonus.

"If you get sick I'm never letting you out again", he says and pulls you into his embrace, pulling you up on his chest.

If anyone is getting sick, it's him without a shirt, you think but keep your thoughts to yourself. No need to go back to the basement now that you've finally escaped it.

You notice someone in the window. Silas follows your eyes and turns to his second in command in the door opening. he's holding Silas's shirt while crossing his arms over his chest.

"Could you tell those horny fuckers in the window to stop staring at my spouse before I go in and deal with it myself?" Silas asks coldly.

His second in command returns inside. Silas hugs you closer, kissing your wet forehead.

"You're shivering", he says after a while and pulls you even closer, hoping to warm you with his body heat. "Are you cold?"

"It's starting to become a bit chilly", you admit.

Silas stands up with you in his arms, smiling.

"Then let's go inside and have a warm bath", he says. "Afterwards we can cozy up in bed and watch a movie. I'm not done with you yet."

(Husband) Dr Kry:

You hear the front door open, close and lock. Two minutes later, he's up in the bedroom. You don't give him any attention.

"I'm back", he smiles and sits down on the side of the bed, taking your hand. "I know that you have been feeling a bit down lately, and this weather isn't helping ..." He looks towards the raindrops on the window, "... so I thought that I would get you something to cheer you up."

You lift your eyes from the bed and look at him. His smile widens, light blue eyes softening. He stands up and holds out his hand. You stare up at him in confusion.

"Do you want to come see?" he asks and adds, as if he can read your hesitant thoughts: "It's okay. Will you come?"

You nod and take his hand, using it to pull yourself up from the bed. Your knees give up as you put weight on them and black spots dance through your sight. He catches you and wraps his arm around your waist, helping you downstairs.

There are a few plastic boxes on the dining room table. Kry sits you down on a chair before sittign down on a chair in front of you. You let your eyes wander over the colorful beads, the stretchy thread,

"I thought that we could make some necklaces and some bracelets", Dr Kry smiles. "Does that interest you? We can play some music too."

You nod. He puts on some calm jazz tunes on a loud speaker and the two of you start to thread beads. Dr Kry makes something himself, to your surprise. You never thought that he would join in on an activity like this.

Outside the window, the rain keeps pouring. Sitting in the kitchen, making jewlery makes you forget everything. Forgetting the rain, the pain in your body and what Dr Kry has done. You can pretend that you are a normal couple, doing normal couple activities.

You make two bracelets. One white and one blue. Dr Kry makes one in blue and red. Without saying anything, you shoot the blue bracelet over the table, towards the blonde man. He looks up from his hands, at the bracelet, and then at you.

"What's this?" he asks and picks up the blue bracelet. "Did you make this for me?"

You nod and shrug nonchalantly, trying to make it look like you don't care, because the reason why you did a bracelet for him scares you. Why did you make him a bracelet?

Dr Kry smiles and places the bracelet over his wrist. His sparkly blue eyes admires it fondly.

"Thank you", he says.

He seems to hesitate for a moment before standing up, walking around the table to you. One hand resting on your cheek, turning your face gently upwards to meet his bending down and meeting your lips.

King Edmund

Rain makes him clingy. It gives him an excuse to ditch all his work and cuddle up with you in bed.

You're laying on your back and Edmund is scattered over the bed, hugging your waist and leaning his head on your stomach, as if you were nothing more than a bodypillow. When you try to get up, he tightens his arms and whines in protest.

"If you try to get up, then God help me for what i will do", he mumbles, voice getting muffled in your blanket.

"But I have to-", you start.

"No. You don't have to do anything. Stay."

You have no other choice than to accept that you will have to stay in bed all day with Edmund's muscular arms wrapped around your body like a straightjacket.

"Play with my hair", Edmund mumbles and when you don't reply he forcefully grabs your hand and buries it into his black hair. "I said play with it."

You scratch at his scalp carefully. You can feel him physically relaxing against your body. Like a cat. His head rests against your stomach, lisiting to your body's sounds.

"Your majesty, the guards need-", a voice says.

The warmth disappears as Edmund's head shoots up, his icy cold eyes glaring at the maid in the door opening. He climbs over you, grabs the glass on the bedside table and throws it towards the door, missing the woman's head with mere centimeters.

"Bother me again and I'll make sure it hits you next time", he growls

The woman hurries out and shuts the door behind her. Edmund scoffs and lays down with his head on your stomach again, wrapping his arms around your body, making himself comfortable. He could have hit that poor woman if he wanted to.

"Don't give me that look", he mumbles without opening his eyes, as if he could read your thoughts. "I didn't hit her with it, did I? Exactly."

The rain keeps pouring outside the window. You're not getting out of here until the sky is clear.

[tiramisu-rambles]

TKATB: Reverse!AU Sol

Summary: some headcanons about a reverse!au, where Sol's entire aesthetic is blonde-dyed hair and angelic, innocent eyes.

Warnings: implied drugging, yandere tendencies (TKATB), stalking, breaking into your home, eventual imprisonment, coercion?? and minor spoilers for the game events. Gender neutral reader but he dresses you in a skirt around the end.

Creative liberties are taken for this AU: where you and Sol used to be childhood friends that lived close to each other, and he used to be a simple boy with ebony hair and ruby eyes, who'd follow you around like your eyes held the stars within them.

The elderly would simply coo and say it was a sweet sort of puppy love, not knowing how seriously Sol would have retaliated behind your back if any other kids were to pick on you or try to take his place. Small accidents aren't unusual in your area, where youngsters become careless and slip into rivers or fall off the monkey bars...

But, knowing how such incidents would upset you, Sol never lets you see that side of himself, and instead melts into the kind, sweet, gentle boy you know whenever you're around him. He puts you first and lets you win at your favourite games, at your side like it's the most natural thing in the world.

To a bystander, he was akin to a raven watching over its heart's treasure - ready to claw and tear at the nearest threat. But things change when you lose your memories in an accident. And from there, Sol is convinced that this is some type of retribution for his tainted love - and paints his wings white for the next time he meets you.

The angel bleaches its locks and ties his hair. Strict; contained. Fashioning himself into a dove.

It works; because you are the loveliest of doves, and there is nothing stronger in Sol's heart than his need to be next to you, even if it takes a few white lies to earn your trust.

"Y/N! Let's play a game!"

Hopscotch - where you'd suddenly lose your balance and fall into Sol's arms. Or hide and seek - where he'd always pretend not to find you, so that you could enjoy the thrill of almost winning, before…

"Four, three, two… one."

When you 'first' meet Sol in college, it's when you wake up in the infirmary after a food fight in the cafeteria, having been hit in the head by a flying tray.

He was somewhat unrecognizable by then - with his hair dyed a sunflower yellow and exuding innocent-softness. He's helpful and doesn't pry too much into your life while he tends to your wounds - and the next thing you know, you're in art class and learn that he isn't actually the nurse, but an assistant. And that he has a habit of doodling cute things onto his skin beneath his sleeves.

Perhaps it's because you've been stressed about your home-situation lately, but you've been spending more time in the infirmary due to headaches, blurriness, and feelings of fatigue.

That, and you've been having the strangest dreams about a shadow wandering through your room at night. (Totally not because Sol has tampered with the food in your kitchen, so that he may come and go more leisurely and make sure you're alright.)

"How're you feeling today, Pumpkin?" Sol asks, clipboard in hand and a smile on his lips. But as he nudges the door to the infirmary closed and makes sure the windows aren't letting any wind in, you catch a glimpse of the papers he's holding and don't see any medical reports.

Drawings, maybe? And a few hearts encircling a name.

If it wasn't for the tracking device that's locked around your ankle, you might've been able to delude yourself into thinking that your stay at Sol's apartment was normal - that you'd chosen to come in here yourself, rather than waking up one day with no memory of how you got here - and that the Sol that's taking care of you now was the same, innocent nurse who comforted you on your first week. When you'd gotten overwhelmed by the new culture of your college and felt lost about your life.

Technically, you suppose Sol did make your life a little simplier, by giving you something much more pressing attend to.

A shiver runs down your spine as you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind you. Sol presses his smile against your neck, asking if there was something wrong.

"Is there something wrong with the pancakes?" He asks. And you try not to pay attention to the skirt that pools around your legs.

You'd woken up to a closet of clothes prepared in your size. And decorations around the bed that eerily match your childhood tastes.

You cover your mouth to stay silent in your hiding spot, feeling your heart race in your chest.

"…Ready or not. Here I come."

[baronessvonglitter]

Quiet in the Woods

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: You've mouthed off to Joel one too many times. He finds a way to shut you up and release some frustration.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. The whole thing reeks of dub con. Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Unprotected piv. A couple of clit slaps. Name calling (slut). Orgasm denial. Rough sex. Belly bulge. Breeding kink if you squint. Facial. Come eating. Slight teabagging. Panty gagging. Nipple play. Breast slapping. Fingering. Oral (f receiving). Squirting. Overstimulation. Veiled threat of gang rape. Mean, snarky, frustrated Joel and bratty reader. Reader has breasts and vagina but is otherwise undescribed. No use of y/n. Joel's POV.

Author's note: This was the fic that burrowed its way into my brain last week and I may have made Joel more mean that I intended, but I think the majority of us can say we love him that way.

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Joel, are you crazy? We're in the middle of nowhere, what if-"

He cuts you off with his heavy hand clamping down over your mouth, quickly following with a easy slide of the first few inches of him into your warm and wet cunt. Your moan vibrates against his palm, and when your hips tilt up, a wordless offering of yourself, he presses deeper, two more hitched thrusts until he's bottomed out, cock nestled nicely between your puffy pussy lips, your cotton panties pushed unceremoniously off to the side.

You hadn't needed much to get you going. Shit, you were wetter than Niagara Falls once he'd teased you with his fingers. And with the necessity of staying quiet he needed to be quick as well. 

A hasty check of the surroundings and he's focused on you again, grunting as you squeeze around him. From the look in your eyes he knows you're just trying to get him to cum, and not in a 'you really need this, Joel, please use my tight little pussy to relieve some stress, and oh by the way, thank you for being so selfless and guiding me through the apocalyptic wilderness, you're the best!' kind of way.

No, you're definitely pulsing your tight little hole around him to tease him, to goad him into shooting his load, and he isn't going to give you the satisfaction..

He pulls out leisurely, making sure you feel every inch in the sweet, slow drag of his cock, until just his tip is at your soft, welcoming entrance. He taps the broad crown of his dick onto your nether lips and grins when you whine under his clamped hand. 

"Be. Good." He slaps your clit with his cock, emphasizing each word.

You mumble something under his palm and he pretends he can't understand you as he pushes back in, letting you feel the entirety of him in one go. "Good and quiet, little slut," he grunts, setting a vicious pace.

One leg of your jeans is still on, your bare leg hooked over his shoulder, foot still in its boot, laces dangling untied. Joel spreads your other leg, wanting you spread wide so he can see himself ramming you.

He pulls your shirt down, freeing your tits from the bra cups, using it for leverage, watching your tits bounce with every rough thrust. Beneath him you're moaning in time with each merciless snap of his hips.

Joel does another quick check, slowing as he does so, and as he's distracted a moment he catches too late that you've snuck your hand down to your clit to rub yourself, get you there faster.

"I don't think so," he utters, moving your hand away. "Keep your hands up over your head. I can't fuckin' do everythin' for ya." You grumble beneath his palm but do as you're told.

Something primal in him is pleased when you obey him, but he knows you well enough to suspect you may have a trick up your sleeve. You can still coerce him with your cunt, which is now currently stuffed with him, the wet and slimy sounds of your slick unmistakable proof that you wanted this long before you got on the ground.

"This is what you get," he punctuates those words with jabbing thrusts, "when you don't. Stop. Runnin'. Your. Fuckin'. Mouth."

Fuck being quiet. Joel needs to taunt you, lord it over you that you're spread out beneath him, folding easier than a cheap lawn chair. You were probably getting under his skin just so you could get under him.

He knows it's safer in this sparse area of woods rather than that little trail by the river where you'd first started bitching about your feet hurting, or was it your head.. point is, he found a better use for you, one that suits his needs and will shut you the fuck up for once.

He watches your eyelids flutter, the way your body tenses when he knows he pushes in too deep, too close to that soft and tender part. Just to fuck with you he lets the tip of him brush against it, the head giving it a couple light kisses, watching you squirm in both pleasure and pain. "Dead end, huh sweet cheeks? C'mon, you know you like it. You ain't never been a 'just the tip' kinda gal." 

Joel places his free hand on your belly, just at the waistband of your panties. "Feel 'im in there? Givin' him a nice lil' home, aintcha? C'mon, feel 'im." He takes one of your hands and presses it down to the bulge in your belly that grows as he thrusts home. 

"Your thighs are quakin', baby. You close?" His voice is almost mellifluous in its teasing, and he laughs when you glare at him. "Hey, you started this. Knew you'd end up under me one day if you kept yappin' and complainin'."

You growl beneath his palm and he tightens his grip on you just a bit, enough of a warning. I can fuck you or you can risk getting us killed. You must have decided on the former, because you become so sweetly pliant beneath him again, your hips moving against his, his hand vibrating with your muffled cries.

For a flash of a moment he considers burying himself deep in you as he comes, painting your walls with every drop that's been storing up in his balls, giving it all to you whether you want it or not, and watching it slowly dribble out of your wrecked pussy. He'd love that. Probably even get hard again just at the sight of it.

But you're already annoying enough on your own, and such a fucking yapper that he knows he won't risk putting a baby in you - just one more mouth to feed and one more thing that won't shut up.

"Fuck," he grumbles as he realizes he can't hold back any longer. He moves up and kneels over your chest, stroking his cock, sticky with your creamy mess. Eyes shut tight he works himself until that tingly feeling creeps up into his balls and he opens his eyes just in time to see his cum squirting onto your face, your own eyes shut tight, lips pressed together in a frown. 

He doesn't stop until he's covered your entire face, pleased with the way it starts to drip down the sides and into your hair, down your chin. Only when he's empty and his dick softens does he smile down at you. "Lookin' so pretty like that. Keep your eyes closed, now. Got a little somethin' on ya." You open your mouth to sass him and some of it slips between your lips. Joel chuckles as he watches you greedily stick out your tongue, seeking more of his taste.

"Somethin' better than Chef Boyardee, ain't it?" he teases, knowing you're growing tired of eating expired tinned food. "Plenty more where that came from, darlin'," he says, plopping the heft of his ballsack on your lips and growling when your pink tongue pokes out to lick it. "All right, enough," he grunts, stuffing himself back in his boxers and jeans. He's not about to let you take the upper hand and get him hard again.

He takes out his knife and cuts off the remains of your panties. "Not like you'll need these much anyway," he says, imagining bending you over in front of a tree whenever he takes a notion, just to get it out of his system. It's really the only thing you're good for.

In a rare show of gentleness he wipes his cum off your face with your panties, both of your fluids combining, absorbing in the material. "Better now?" he smirks when you open your eyes and fix him with a death glare. "Uh-uh," he whispers, silencing you with his finger. "Quiet. Just fuckin' nod."

Still glaring, you nod.

"And say, 'thank you, Joel.'"

"Fuck y-"

He cuts you off with his hand over your mouth. "I know why you're so ornery, darlin'. You ain't come yet, huh? How.. ungentlemanly of me," he says drily. "Open up," he instructs you, and stuffs your panties, smeared with your arousal and his come, into your mouth to quiet you.

"I'll be nice this one time," he says, moving down your body. He briefly thinks of kissing his way down, but he doesn't want you to think he's the romantic type. Who has time for that? He does however swirl his tongue over your nipples, your breasts still on display from where he'd pulled your bra down earlier. He sucks them each greedily, using his teeth to get them nice and hard, then slaps them to watch then jiggle, and to watch you squirm under him.

"You're just full of kinks, aintcha? How the fuck you think a kink is gonna serve you out here in the wilderness?" A few more slaps of your supple flesh and he moves down between your thighs again. Your cunt is still drenched.

"Don't even gotta rev up the engine again," he says in admiration, swirling one finger around your sopping, wrecked hole. "Not that I'd mind. It's kinda fun seein' ya all worked up and ain't nothin' you can do about it."

Joel dips his head to your quivering cunt, watching it clench around nothing. "Always needs somethin' stuffed in there, don't she?" he smirks. "Consider yourself lucky I'm feelin' generous today."

He presses two thick fingers in, hearing your muffled moan, noticing the greedy tilt of your hips. "You look so pretty like that, y'know.. I oughta find a way to gag ya permanently." He starts pistoning his fingers before you can try to utter a word, and soon you're putty in his rough hands.

"You're mad at me, I know," he says soothingly. "But you must like what I'm doin', else you'd be fightin' me, using what strength you got to push me to the ground. Little sunflower, you like this." And he pushes his hand violently, grinning at how wet you are, the glossiness evident on your inner thighs. "Hear how she's rejoicin'?" he says over the sloppy sounds your pussy makes as he plunges his fingers in over and over. 

He bows his head between your legs, tasting you, tickling your clit with his tongue, adding the sweet little pressure he'd kept you from exploring for yourself just moments ago. Your body bucks beneath him, your cries still muffled, and he imagines how needy and loud they'd be if he didn't want to attract attention. 

A spray of liquid hits him, only making him go faster, eager to see how many more times you can squirt as he wipes his face with his flannel sleeve. "There she is," he mutters, keeping up the pace. "You didn't really need to stop for water earlier, I can tell you're plenty hydrated. Ha, well, were." He makes a mental note to give you some of his own canteen water once you're done. Just because he doesn't want you passing out on him.

You come two more times under Joel's relentless fingers, only warding him off when you twist your body away, crying due to oversensitivity. 

"Aw, that's all?" he feigns disappointment. "Did real good, sweetie. But stay on my good side. I won't hesitate to loan you out to some raiders if you start gettin' mouthy again, hear me?" He removes your panty gag and helps you to stand, watching as you arrange your clothing.

"Hey, hey, don't gimme that look," he warns. "You were askin' for it. Now.. you gonna be good?"

You nod.

"And quiet. Repeat it."

He relishes the evil glare you give him, and if looks could kill he'd be dead on the spot. "Quiet," you repeat with an icy tone.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

tagging those interested from the wip: @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40 @slimybeth69 @almostfoxglove

@almostempty @604to647 @sunshinehaze1

[talaok]

Will you kiss me?

Pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

Summary: You are a famous actress who Pedro has a crush on, and he finally gets to meet you once you get both invited to The Graham Norton Show

warnings: just fluff

a/n: I had to

"What a pair we have here tonight huh?"Graham spoke enthusiastically, making the audience explode in roaring cheers and applauses.

You just smiled as you tried looking at the crowd, getting overwhelmed by the blinding lights.

"Y/n Y/l/n and Pedro Pascal, just- wow"

Other applauses filled the studio.

"Ok so let's start with you y/n, you have a show coming out next week, two oscar nominated films already out, and one more coming out next month" he took a deep breath, feigning fatigue "You must be tired, I mean, How long has it been since you slept?" he joked, making you laugh.

"well I did work a lot this past year, but it was worth it, I'm happy I got to be part of so many wonderful projects and I'm really proud of all of them, I just can't wait for people to see them"

"well I'm sure we're all gonna love them"

"I hope so, I'm always nervous about it"

"Really?" The man beside you asked, surprise clear in his tone.

Pedro Pascal,

You had heard of him before, of the boom he seemed to have made lately, but had never met him until half an hour ago, when you briefly introduced yourselves to one another.

He looked nervous, awkward even, and you didn't know if it was because of the show he was about to get on, if he just was like that, or if there was something else bothering him.

"of course, when I go to premiers I'm always looking over at how people are reacting, if they're like bored or on their phones or actually interested, it's nervewracking, don't you?"

"well of course I do" he chuckled "but I'm no one compared to you"

He had a beautiful smile, you noticed, sweet, comforting.

"oh stop it" you smacked his shoulder playfully " you're a big deal, Pedro"

He just shook his head, still smiling softly, and Graham took the opportunity to intervene.

"of course you are, I mean, Game of Thrones, Narcos," he listed " and now the Mandalorian and The last of us, I mean you're really killing it"

The crowd cheered some more at the mention of those shows.

"thank you," he said shyly, looking like he almost wanted them to stop.

"so how does it feel?" he asked, "to be on such massive hits at the same time?"

"Well, it feels... scary" he laughed, joined by the audience

"you don't like being the center of attention?" Graham asked

"oh no I do" he corrected, making you laugh "It's just frightening at times, 

but I'm having a good time y'know, it's also comforting seeing everyone I've worked with kind of be in the same position as me" he shrugged.

"People you've worked with?"

"yes, you know like Bella Ramsey, they're also- well they're young so of course, they're new to this- but, y'know, we're not used to all this attention and it feels good to have someone by your side who understands what's going on"

"of course" graham nodded "that's true, Bella is really young" he noticed "that's a thing both your shows have in common, young people," he said, "how did that feel? working with the new generation, I'm not saying you're old, but did you ever feel left out?"

"oh, all time" Pedro laughed

"yeah me too" you agreed "there were times when I was really lost but too ashamed to ask " you laughed in embarrassment

"absolutely," Pedro said, " they have a language of their own"

"right?!" you exclaimed, happy someone finally understood you.

"yes, like, there's one term that I learned recently that's really wonderful- somebody was saying - you swerve - "

You frowned

"do you know what swerving is?"

"nope" 

"I was like oh- get somebody off your scent or something like that- I don't know - confuse somebody, and they were like: no, they come in for a kiss and you swerve" he demonstrated, pretending to be avoiding a kiss on the cheek.

"Isn't that great?"

you nodded, laughing, as an idea came to you

"We should try"

His eyes widened as he turned to you 

"c'mon swerve me"

"no, I cannot swerve you!"

"c'mon it's for science"

"I can't, I can't swerve y/n Y/l/n, that's like - a crime"

"oh stop it, just do it, I wanna try it c'mon," you said, flattered

"ok fine, but just because I can't say no to you" he surrendered

"ok" you cleared your throat, preparing yourself "Oh wow, hi Pedro" you pretended to greet him, going in for a kiss.

He just smiled, as he did, eventually avoid your kiss,

his beard grazed your cheek, and the proximity to him, sparked something inside you, something quick, but likewise persistent.

As you leaned away, you noticed with amusement the flush on his cheeks and had to bite down a smile.

He fanned himself exaggeratedly "I'm blushing," he mumbled, making you chuckle, as you rested a hand on his arm, trying to soothe him.

" So how does swerving feel?" Graham asked

"it's... interesting" you glanced at him.

"It makes me feel rude" he looked at you too now, "I would never do it, it feels- it's mean"

"oh we know you wouldn't" you reassured him.

"I didn't like it" he shook his head

You smiled, tilting your head "would it make you feel better if we did it again without the swerving?"

You noticed how he seemed to have a momentary shutdown.

"yes," he said bluntly

"oh my god yes"

You laughed softly, as his mouth gaped open.

"Will you kiss me?" he almost begged, which was funny considering you had proposed it.

"Alright then, come here" you gestured, and he leaned closer, letting you press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"there" you smiled

"I think I just died"

"oh stop it, you're flattering me," you said, noticing a trace of red on his face "whoops, sorry I left a lipstick print" you went to clean it 

"no no" he stopped you 

"please leave it, I want proof this actually happened"

[riki-riks-chick]

enha legal line wet dream drabble?

Enhypen Wet Dreams

enhypen when they have a wet dream

═════════════

Heeseung:

Heeseung doesn't have wet dreams often, but every now and then, the two of you get really busy, too tired after work to even invest in sexual behavior. And it's so painful for him. Even if he is hard, he's too tired to deal with it, let alone ask you to.

It easily turns into him having a wet dream. His head is filled with visions of all the things he wants to do to you, and how you'd react. He wakes up, hard and slick with his own cum. You'd be sound asleep beside him, but he can't help but to wake you. You're tired and against it at first, but his pleading is a bit of a turn on.

You end up giving him sloppy head under the covers, opting to continue any other wants or needs in the morning when you're not tired as fuck. "We'll finish this later."

Jay:

Jay finds wet dreams embarrassing, so whenever he gets himself worked up enough to the point he has one, it's terrible for him.

Waking up with a raging hard on, it's still dark outside, and Jay hates that he's probably gonna have to spend the next thirty minutes trying and failing to cum again from just his hand alone.

He eventually wakes you with his quiet groans and grunts. You're confused at first, but when you see his fist closed around his dick, you get an idea.

You decide to let him fuck you, knowing that it would be less work on your part to simply let him get off, using you as a personal sex toy.

And it definitely isn't bad because you feel amazing and so does he. In the end, he doesn't think wet dreams are too bad. "Maybe I should wake you again next time."

Jake:

He happens to have a wet dream the one time you're not sleeping beside him. He was dreaming about something along the lines of fucking you in all his favorite positions, you in his favorite set that he bought you. Everything was so tempting.

But of course he wakes up in his empty bed, and he contemplates for twenty minutes before calling you.

His cock is already clutched in his right hand, he's holding the phone with his left. When you amswer, your voice sleepy and cute, he's already losing it.

It doesn't take you long to realize he's jerking off, so you give him some substance, whispering dirty words into the phone to help him get off. He eventually releases in his hand, moaning pathetically into the receiver. "Fuck.. I need you so bad."

Sunghoon:

The epitome of horny. Sunghoon hasn't been able to touch you all week because he's been busy as hell. This leads to the wet dream he's just woken up from. He was dreaming of you, fucking you from behind, which is his favorite way to do so.

He spends the next five minutes stroking his own cock, biting his lip to silence himself, but it's not working in his favor. He then looks over at you. You're sleeping so peacefully, and all he can think of is ruining you.

To his luck you've given him prior permission to try out the whole somnophilia thing. You both liked it last time, so he wanted to try again. You were luckily on your stomach too, so he simply removed the clothes on your lower half, sliding into you slowly.

He ended up waking you so he could fuck you properly and neither of you got any sleep. "Next time I'll try eating your pussy while you sleep.."

Sunoo:

Sunoo probably has frequent wet dreams. Waking up at random hours, soaked in his own cum just because he dreamed about you.

Like usual, he wakes you up, moaning in his sleep thanks to the content of the dream. You're not even surprised at this point. Usually you just watch him squirm and pretend to be asleep when he wakes up, but this time you wanted him to see you.

You had taken matters into your own hands, freeing his dripping erection before lowering yourself onto his length. He wakes up, the feeling of you riding him being too good.

He comes pretty quickly, but you both agree to go for another round before taking a late night bubble bath. "You should do that more often.."

Jungwon:

He immediately wakes you the second he has a wet dream. Whatever it may be, he's asking you to make it a reality.

So when you're awaken at nearly 2am, being asked in the most pitiful way possible, to suck your boyfriend's dick. You can't say no.

Jungwon is a moaning mess, enjoying the feelings he gets just from your mouth being wrapped around his cock so prettily.

He's cuming down your throat minutes later, whining pathetically as you suck on his tip.

The whole ordeal makes you horny too, so he gets to fuck you in the end. "Oh this is so much better than a dream..."

Riki:

Wet dreams are so embarrassing for Riki. He gets so shy it's almost unbearable. One time you woke up while be was trying to deal with his problem, and he swears it was the worst thing that ever happened to him.

The second he wakes up, feeling the all too familiar stickiness in his pants, he's making a beeline for the bathroom, not wanting to wake you up.

Thank his lucky stars, because tonight just happens to be the night you wake up, walking into the bathroom where the lights are on and Riki is leaning against the counter in distress.

Being caught only made his problem worse. He was near tears until you stepped towards him. "Let me make it better.."

═════════════

[lavenders388]

Heyyy could you maybe write some nam-gyu(player 124) fluff like hes only nice to you and otherwise cold so he doesn’t seem week in front of the other players, there’s barely any nam-gyu fics😭😭

Thank youu💗💗

~Only For You~

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ Nam-gyu x reader headcannons

requested 💌

a/n i LOVED this idea so much i thought i would do headcannons instead so i can write more little scenarios and get more into it:3

<3 throughout his past promoting clubs he would try and act cool/nonchalant sometimes in a rude way with his customers and/or employees, and he learned acting that way left people wanting to learn more about what he was promoting/respect him more and so it ended up becoming like his work attitude in order to make his club events more successful. he explains all of this to you in the beginning of your relationship, reassuring you its just for the money and he doesn't actually stand by anything he says or does and wouldn't ever. when you join him at his promoting nights he would refuse to act that way to you even if it was in front of someone super important:3

<3 going off of the first one, i think nam-gyu would prefer that you don't come with him to any clubs. first mostly because he doesn't believe that that type of environment is super safe for you and he doesn't want to risk you doing any substances/getting addicted to anything; and because he doesn't want you to see how he acts in front of the people he's trying to get business from. he thinks that you're better than the type of people he hangs around those nights as well as he just doesn't think you to deserve to have to see that side of him!

<3 he is super soft and kind to you in private, ever since he met you he started to prefer that side of him and dislike the feeling of having a fake, boisterous personality in order to gain the respect of people he's trying to sell club tickets to. he's a lot more introverted and kind when the two of you are in private and he really starts to prefer staying in with you over going out all night.

<3 one of his favorite things is coming home to you after working and being able to completely abandon his day and everything that came with it and just be himself and relax with you. he absolutely melts into you and loves the energy you give off. lets you know how much it means to him everyday!

<3 he uses substances a lot to uphold his extroverted, cool guy persona because he eventually gets exhausted of all of the late nights pretending to be someone he isn't and finds that using is really helpful even though he knows its not a good thing. this is also something he begins to want to stop doing when he meets you:)

<3 he really wants to stop his club promoting life for a more simple life with you where he can just be himself and not do so much overextending, but worries that he wont be able to find a job that pays as much as promoting does for him. he wants to be able to spoil you and doesn't think it would be right for him not be able to do that financially. he doesn't want you to have to work at all unless you want to, let alone be anywhere near the breadwinner of the household.

<3 he ends up going to the games after hearing the prize amount because he sees it as like a forced detox in a way; like he'll be away from any substances and he wont have to deal with any promoting stuff, and then hed have the opportunity to make a ton of money for you.

<3 you also get the card and want to join the games in order to pay off both of your debts and have a decent start at a new life together. you agree to do it together and use the winnings to pay everything off and buy a nice house and even start like a little coffee shop together or something:)

<3 during the games his persona becomes a lot more amplified because instead of doing it for his promoting he's doing it for a ton of money as well as for the both of your survivals. he also starts going through withdrawal from the stress of the games as well as if he had been using before he went there. this adds to his motivation to fit in at all costs when he sees what thanos has in his cross necklace. he doesn't like that you have to witness any of this but he likes that it ensures your safety being part of thanos's group. he makes it clear to thanos that you're with him for the games and nothing can change that.

<3 he reassures you that his behavior with thanos is nothing more than his need to win the games for the two of you, as well as ensuring your safety within a group. he lowkey makes fun of him with you in secret to make you feel better!!

<3 he compartmentalizes the other players as just people in his way of providing you the life you deserve; that them losing is just the two of you getting closer to winning and safely going home. the pills help him a lot with this; he knows that humanity and kindness might ruin his chance of winning for you, and showing mercy for the other players would result in thanos loosing respect for him. he knows that sticking with him will be of great assistance in winning, and he'll do anything to preserve that unless its something to you.

<3 if thanos starts to say something gross or mean to you or about you, nam-gyu shuts that shit DOWNNN! but in a very calculated way to not make him question their allyship. he'll say something like "lets respect the ladies." trying to sound joke-y but still meaning it.

<3 during mingle that man does not let go of you for a single second. even if it means not going with thanos he lets his demeanor fall a bit if it ensures you stay with him and make it through the game.

<3 when the fighting breaks out he does whatever it takes to protect you. especially after getting them pillz from thanos he purposely loses all sense of feeling bad for his actions because it just insures your safety even further. before he does it he reassures you its for your safety and because he wants to give you the life you deserve, and he means it when he says he'll do anything to give you that. "please just trust me baby, this all for you. for us." he says to you as he leads you to safety before lights out. "if you need me call for me and ill be here. i love you."

<3 when you get scared during the games and in moments like that he allows his demeanor to soften even if people are watching him. he wouldn't want the last thing you remember him doing to be him not being himself and being sweet to you. se-mi notices but thinks its sweet, especially because shes doing the same thing as him; faking it to thanos to be in his group.

<3 inside and outside of the games all he wants to do is protect and provide for you and he would do whatever it takes<3