#like not to sound like we’re in you but im usually so good at finding anything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crguang · 2 months

Text

wasted with longing, part 2

You have never been so bothered in your life. Why? You refuse to admit it to yourself yet.

friends with benefits, afab!reader, gp!kafka, smut, mutual masturbation, facetime/video call sex, 6k words

A/N: after two whole months… we’re so back (im sorry). i giggled a lot writing this because the simple concept of fuckboy kafka is so ridiculous but i swear there’s a plot somewhere

part one part three

The bright light of your laptop screen starts to burn your retinas, and you blink quickly to chase away the fatigue building up under your eyelids. The words on the page stopped mattering over an hour ago yet you’re in no position to throw your work to the wind; you’ve already made it this far and this presentation is due in exactly 12 hours and 33 minutes. You’re at a stage where you blame everything and everyone that has ever contributed in leading you to where you sit against your bed’s headboard, lights dimmed low as your fingers brush over the keyboard in clicking sounds you’re deafened to. Your anxiety is the only thing keeping you awake, and if you cared about your job just a little less, you would have quit right then. You thought you’d left all-nighters in the past with boring college classes and tiny dorm rooms but life has an irritating way of repeating itself.

You let out the hundredth sigh of the hour and take a moment to breathe in slowly through your nose, head tilted to the ceiling and eyes screwed shut, before exhaling loudly. You steel yourself for what you know is at least another hour of bullshitting statistics that you will do your best to present confidently this afternoon, but you can’t even pretend to like what you do anymore. Working in research has never been the most exciting career despite the occasional interesting discoveries you’ve been a part of. Still, you needed a job that would allow you to afford to live on your own in a city far away from your nagging parents and you were getting good at denying the fact that it is sucking the soul out of you. Your days are mundane, your routine unsatisfying, and you long for something more like most adults your age. You can’t quit until you find a better alternative that will pay you the same or more, so you bite back another exasperated groan and go back to your slides.

You wouldn’t be in this position eight days ago. You’ve had a week to come up with this presentation and instead of working on it like the diligent employee you usually are, most of your time was spent with your head in the clouds, preoccupied by someone who isn’t thinking about you. It makes you sick how bothered you are. It’s not like anything changed between the last time you talked and the one before that, and you were never as distracted by the lack of response as you have been this past week. You ignored your responsibilities, went out with friends four days in a row to convince yourself of your fake nonchalance just to find yourself in trouble that could have easily been avoided, anxious over the career you’ve worked so hard to earn.

Nothing good comes out of allowing that woman a bigger place in your thoughts than the three square feet corner she deserves, you know that. What frustrates you the most is that you don’t understand where this sudden concern for her lack of honesty comes from. Lies flow out of her like she was born with them on her lips; again, you know that. Then, what is the issue? Without identifying the root of the problem, you’re left a snowball of jumbled thoughts and insecurity steadily getting bigger as it nears the foot of the mountain until it inevitably crashes into a tree and falls apart completely. Why say things she doesn’t mean? Are you disposable? You hate her. Does she hate you? You should block her number. Why do you care? Screw her.

…You wish you could.

Your laptop screen turns dark and snatches you back to reality. You got lost in thought again. You run a hand over your face, using two fingers to rub the inner corner of your eyes. You’re pathetic. Even now with this feeling of impending doom looming over you, your mind drifts to her and attempts to find reason behind her actions when there is likely none. Your work is important to you, she is not. Yet, you’re incapable of focusing on the PowerPoint in front of you. You start to wonder if you should lie down, rest your eyes for a few hours and finish the presentation when you wake up, right before you get ready to leave for the office. It would be cutting it extremely close, but you can’t think clearly anymore and the stress gets more paralyzing as the minutes go by. Another tired sigh escapes you. Maybe you simply need to relax a little, perhaps with some scalding tea.

You push your laptop aside and stretch your body on the covers, arms over your head like a lazy cat. You’ll prepare a cup of tea to soothe your muscles then you’ll finish your work and go to bed. If you lie to yourself enough times, you believe you can make it. You straighten up and smooth down your hair. You’re about to stand up when a familiar ping! near you announces a new text message. You reach for your phone on your nightstand, thinking perhaps one of your friends got drunk again and needed a ride home, and tap the screen to open your notification center.

You stare at the screen until it turns black, tap it so it lights up again and repeat the process a couple more times as your mind processes what your eyes are seeing and the implications behind it. You almost can’t believe the message you just got and have to click the notification to open up the private conversation; there, at 2:29 AM, Kafka sent you a video. You can’t make out much from the blurry cover, though the lightning seems low like it was filmed during the late evening. Your thumb hovers over it for a moment, wondering if she even meant to send that to you since she hasn’t texted or called since the last time you hooked up. In hindsight her behaviour is not so unusual, you thought you were used to her elusive ways but if the past week has taught you anything, it’s that you obviously expect something from her. Honesty, basic human decency— to not leave you feeling like a wet towel discarded in the laundry bin after she’s used it.

“…Fuck it.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you despite your self-pity at the prospect of always making yourself available for her no matter the time. It’s a coincidence, you tell yourself. The two of you have many of those. You press the play icon on the video and it expands to the full screen. The camera shakes a little, then steadies to show half of Kafka’s body from an inclined angle and part of her face, peach lips on display. She’s wearing a strapless dress, the kind only worn to impress, with a pearl necklace over her collarbone; it’s your first time seeing her in something other than casual clothes. You have to admit that you wish you could’ve seen the whole outfit, if only to… You don’t know.

Kafka is sitting on a bed judging by the white sheets you can spot, and you blink several times at the unmistakable outline of her cock and hard nipples through the material of her dress. You watch in disbelief as she pulls the fabric up to her waist, revealing the garter belt around one of her thighs. Her hand slithers between her breasts and down her stomach to finally disappear under her clothes, but the way she begins stroking herself is purposely obvious. The head of her cock creates a tent meant to remind you of how big she is, and she pumps her shaft steadily, her lips parting slightly to let out low hums of pleasure. You stare, unmoving, unaware of your pulse’s quicker pace as Kafka jerks off on video, the erotic tone of her long moans filling your bedroom, and you don’t register turning up the volume a bit more. Her hand speeds up a touch, you think she must have already been hard before recording because she clearly won’t last much longer, but instead of rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all, you find yourself hoping she’ll take off that dress and give you a real show. Kafka’s breathing becomes heavier, her moans less controlled, and from this angle, you notice the movement of her hips eager to meet each stroke along her cock. Her thumb swipes over her sensitive tip and her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth at the pleasant sensation. Not a single word is uttered, you can’t hear anything in the background either— not that you were listening for it— it’s just the sinful sounds of her throaty hums and her fingers around her dick. Half a minute passes before her breath hitches in a sharp gasp, and you know she’s going to come right before she does. Your thighs squeeze together at the breathy moan that spills from her mouth, her hand still gently stroking herself. Her lips stretch into that teasing smile you can picture with your eyes closed, and the video ends.

You’re harshly pulled from the daze you were in, staring at your phone. You don’t know what to think, she ignores you for a week then sends you a video of her masturbating at two in the morning with nothing else attached. You can’t deny that it had the desired effect on you; your body feels hotter under your sleeping clothes and your thighs are still pressed together to ignore the throb between them, but once again you attempt to figure out the reasoning behind what she does and come up empty. There’s no use in trying to pry open a steel safe that is sealed shut, so why do you try over and over like you have nothing better to do? Why show up with blowtorches and lock picks when your presence is unwanted inside?

Kafka uses you for pleasure, and you use her the same. That is the nature of your relationship. So, you decide to take that video at face value and press replay. Leaning back against the headboard, you bite your cheek as Kafka’s hand travels up and down her veiled cock while your own restlessly traces shapes into the skin of your thigh. It wanders up your body to cup one breast under your shirt, thumb softly circling a stiffening nipple. You pinch it between two fingers at the same time Kafka lets out a pretty moan and you feel arousal dampening your underwear at the various stimuli. The video ends before you can move on to your thighs and you have to replay it again, and again, to properly build up your orgasm before you’re needy enough to slip a hand under your sticky panties. Your middle finger applies pressure on your puffy clit in tight little circles, jolts of pleasure shooting through you and tightening your stomach.

Eyes half-lidded, you forget all about your work to prioritize the need in your cunt, unconsciously matching Kafka’s pace and wishing she was there to take care of you the way only she knows how. Your hips move with the fingers that rub between your wet folds in a messy pattern. You breathe in sharply through your mouth when one of them finds your clit again and firmly toys with it. You’re so aroused, so wet and needy, but watching Kafka’s playful performance through a phone screen with only half of her body shown and her cock hidden from sight isn’t enough. Desperation builds within your lower belly as you inch a finger past your entrance, barely biting back a breathy moan at the feeling. It sinks in effortlessly, so you add another after adjusting to the slight stretch of it rubbing your inner walls. Your other hand holds the phone closer to your face like that will make Kafka seem more tangible. You pump two digits into your pussy, coating them in your arousal, and it feels so good, has your thighs spreading further apart, but it’s not enough.

A frustrated sigh leaves you. You don’t think before exiting the video and pressing the video call button. The line rings once, twice, and your fingers slip out of you as you wait to see if it’ll connect. After a few more seconds, you choose to save face and go to hang up just as it connects with the other line and Kafka’s smirking face comes into view. You blame the stutter of your chest on your arousal. She blows smoke through her mouth and faces away from the camera for a moment to put out the cigarette you caught her smoking. She’s in casual clothes once again, and by the lightning, you infer that it’s likely afternoon wherever she is. That video she sent must have been filmed earlier than the time it was received, it might also be an older one from before you met. You mistake your disappointment for annoyance.

“What is wrong with you?” Your stern voice has a shaky edge to it that Kafka definitely notices. Her smile widens an inch.

“You look a little… flushed. Saw something you like?”

“Fuck you. It’s almost three in the morning.”

“Is that how late it is there? Mmm, it slipped my mind.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that,” you put down the phone for an instant, pulling your pyjamas down your legs to toss them onto the bed. You bring the device back up and recline on the pillows, holding it high enough for Kafka to have a view of your torso and the stiff nipples poking through your half-ridden shirt.

Kafka’s lowered gaze unapologetically trails down your upper body. You cup your breast, softly kneading the soft mound between your fingers, and watch her eyes darken with desire.

“I can’t come over.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to. Just need to hear you.”

“Cute. What if I’m not alone?” Her tone is teasing but she does look up from the screen as if someone could walk by and catch you touching yourself.

“Figure it out.”

“Bossy… And so aroused, aren’t you? From a simple video, no less.”

You let the confident drawl of her words wash over you, ignoring her attempts at riling you up further to focus on the familiar pitch of her voice. It’s rough, intentionally slowed to keep people’s attention solely on what she has to say and control the pace of the conversation, dripping like syrup. You relax into the mattress and let your hand wander down the valley of your breasts, caressing the curves of your stomach. You’re already turned on and aching for release, each brush of your fingertips against your skin requires restraint not to slip a hand between your thighs and circle your clit. Your little show seems to give Kafka a taste of her own medicine, she observes you for a while, her gaze piercing through the veil of lust over her irises.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“I would if you talked me through it,” you reply, expectant, lips parting as your hand teasingly disappears below the camera to massage the flesh of your inner thigh.

Kafka hums, amused and intrigued. You’re sure she can tell how worked up you are and is debating helping you or leaving you wanting. Then she moves, the camera following her every step, and walks somewhere you hope is a secluded room. You don’t recognize her surroundings, she seems to be inside a building but the phone is too close to her face to show anything else properly.

“Did I wake you?” She asks on the way, barely looking away from the screen to watch where she’s going and instead focusing on how your hand travels back up your abdomen, lifting your shirt and revealing more of your chest as it goes.

“No, but it was a welcomed distraction. Walk faster.”

Kafka laughs at your impatience, the sound lighter than her usual arrogant or mocking chuckles and betraying her genuine amusement. There’s a fluttering sensation behind the walls of your heart like the wings of a panicked bird.

“Why? You in a hurry?”

“Yes.”

Kafka enters a room drowning in sunlight, brighter than wherever she was before. You hear the sound of the door closing, then a lock turning before she walks further into the room to sit at what you presume is a desk. The phone is placed far enough from her frame to allow you a full view of her upper body over the wooden surface and the twin-sized bed behind her. The covers are unruffled, the walls barren and white, and you think she might be in a simple hotel room. She leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and resting her cheek against the back of her hand. The index finger of her free hand absentmindedly taps the desk’s surface, mirroring her steady heartbeat. She gazes at you like you’re the most interesting sight she’s seen in days.

“You look so needy… desperate for my touch.” Kafka drinks in the image of you sprawled on your bed, the lower half of your left breast exposed to her hungry eyes. Her mind conjures up many ways she would touch you if she were there, feeling your stumbling breaths in the crook of her neck. “What’s the matter? Can’t come without me anymore?”

Irritation swirls in your gut, mixing with the arousal pooling in your belly at her nonchalant arrogance. Her self-assurance infuriates you mostly because it’s not entirely unfounded; you do wish she was present in person to fuck your worries away but she could be on the other side of the planet for all you know, doing Aeons know what. You don’t have a retort, and you’re in no mood to be teased any more than you felt watching that short video of Kafka stroking herself.

“It goes faster this way,” you lie.

“Mmm… Show me how you touch yourself when I’m not there.”

Her words make your pussy throb. You bite your lip, adjusting your hold on the phone and lowering the camera so she can’t see past your mouth but has a better view of your body. From this angle, the waistband of your underwear is visible just under your stomach. Your fingers dig into your pliable breast, kneading the mound like she usually does to you, occasionally toying with the nipple for the pleasant sensation that ripples through you and causes your thighs to twitch. Kafka’s intense gaze, deeply pleased at your immediate compliance, excites you like nothing else. You know she’s not as unaffected by the sight as she seems to be, her finger drums on the desk a tad faster when you twist your nipple and part your lips to exhale audibly. Your hand leaves your chest and you lower your phone further to follow its path across your torso until it reaches the band of your already slick panties. You sneak a finger under the thin material and Kafka speaks up again.

“Take them off. Let me see you.”

Hesitation takes hold of you for a second, and then you obey her sultry command, shifting to pull the underwear past your hips and down to your ankles. You angle the phone to provide her with a clear view of your wet cunt, breath hitching as Kafka unconsciously wets her lips and the drumming noise stops completely. She’s a statue of desire on the other side of the screen, her heavy stare locked on your fingers spreading your lower lips apart, puffy clit on display. You don’t wait for any other instructions, your need is too great to go unchecked a minute longer; you use your index to circle the bud in quick, desperate motions. Your body’s temperature rises a few degrees and a short, involuntary moan spills past your lips. Your eyes are tempted to close under such stimulation but you want to see Kafka’s every microexpression, every twitch of her mouth and fall of her chest, the flex of her hand against her cheek and the movement of her irises following your ministrations.

“Are you picturing me? My hands on your body, touching you just how you like it?”

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth to seal another soft moan. “Yeah…”

Kafka’s fingers are skilled and precise, stimulating the most sensitive parts of you, some of which didn’t exist before she touched you. She’s learned you by heart as one does a music sheet and makes you sing in a way impossible to replicate alone, an artist missing their accompaniment. You imagine her palms brushing across your chest, teasingly squeezing one breast while her lips ghost over the skin of your jaw, trailing wet kisses up to your cheek. You imagine her slender fingers sinking into your inner thighs to keep them spread before her, drinking in the erotic sight you create under her. You swipe at your clit, each breath heavier than the one before, and observe her body language; how she uncrosses her legs and her hand on the desk disappears beneath the surface, how she tucks away a stray strand of hair so it doesn’t obstruct her vision, the apparent lust in her eyes almost turning their color a shade closer to magenta. Her attention feels like the many cocktails you drank this last week, smoldering down your throat and intoxicating your every nerve. It tightens your lower belly and makes you throb, entrance gushing even when she’s likely thousands of miles away. Your orgasm builds and builds, pleasure steadily mounting and promising salvation the closer you get to the edge.

If her camera was positioned better, you would have seen her pointer and middle fingers drawing circles on her thighs not unlike how you’re stimulating your aching clit, slowly inching higher until they softly stroke the prominent swell over her shorts. You would have been privy to them slipping under her clothes, past her boxers, to caress along her cock from tip to base and draw a sharp intake of breath from her. You’re too lost in the pleasure to notice her next swallow as she wraps a hand around herself and masturbates in tandem with your heavy exhales. Just as you did, she pictures your wandering hands, your warm tongue licking broad stripes up her cock and the quiver of your brow when you struggle to take her into your mouth. You look up at her prettily through wet eyelashes, eager to please, and you suck her dry as she paints your throat white.

Your camera trembles, you struggle to keep it still while you work to make yourself come, digits stuttering on your clit with quiet moans on the tip of your tongue. You’re so close that you barely compute what Kafka is saying.

“You look about ready to come. Are you going to come just from the sight of me?”

She sounds way too pleased for your liking but you can’t bother to care at this moment, all that matters is your impending release. You nod quickly.

“Yeah? Let me hear you.”

“Fuck…” you manage to breathe out, hips desperately bucking into your hand, chasing relief from the pressure building in your belly.

You don’t contain your pitiful sounds of pleasure at Kafka’s request and a soft cry rips from your throat as you finally burst. You come hard, thighs closing together and trapping your hand between them, jolts of pleasure running down your body like a thousand little shivers until you’re a shaking mess on the bed. Eyes screwed shut with the intensity of your orgasm, you miss Kafka’s parted lips and unyielding stare roaming over your arching form, her thumb applying mind-dizzying pressure on her leaking tip under her shorts to tease herself. You take a minute to calm yourself, she takes in the movement of your breasts rising and falling with your chest, imagining wetting them with her tongue so they glitter stunningly in the light when she pulls away. She strokes herself faster and the sound of her satisfied hum helps you realize what she’s doing.

“Hah… This is what you wanted, huh?” You bring your phone higher, circling your areola with two cum-coated fingertips and relishing in the way her eyelids droop. “Sending me that little video to tease me so I’d call and help you jerk off?”

Kafka’s low chuckle turns into a pleased sigh at the end as she touches herself just right, smearing pre-cum all over her throbbing cock.

“I wanna see.”

She picks up the camera and angles it so you have a view of her cock straining against her clothes. The silk of her glove is heaven along her skin, and with the microphone closer to her face you can hear the shallow breaths she releases on her journey to relief. No doubt the friction is dulling her mind, reducing her to her urgent need to come. Your tongue flicks over your upper lip and Kafka almost groans, still watching you intently like she’s making up scenarios of you on your knees with your head bobbing up and down her thick cock. The next time she takes you is already planned out in detail, you’ll be so utterly ruined that you won’t be able to beg her for more.

“I’d get you there quicker if you were here.”

“Mmh… Soon.”

You refrain from rolling her eyes at her obvious lie. Spoken words out of her lips mean nothing, especially with pleasure fogging her mind. Kafka’s following sharp gasp lets you know she’s close to falling apart; you lift your sticky fingers to your mouth, making a show of licking them clean how you would her shaft, and this time she doesn’t suppress the throaty, blissful noise that was sitting on her tongue. She sears your performance in the back of her eyelids and pumps her cock with purpose, orgasm imminent. Her hips jerk upward as her release crashes into her in toe-curling waves of pleasure, hand stuttering around her length and cum staining her underwear and glove. She moans unashamedly, knowing what it does to you, and her eyes flutter shut only for the instant it takes to compose herself afterwards. Her hand leaves her shorts, she brings her wet fingers to the light and smiles up at you.

“Thanks.” Without any underlying cockiness, there’s nothing but appreciation when she addresses you.

You don’t meet her gaze, averting your eyes while you sit up and smooth down your hair. Now that the tension in your muscles has dissipated, you’re reminded of why you were up this late in the first place and the work that still needs to be completed before work some hours later. You sigh tiredly, but your mind is clearer and you feel a spike of energy to finish your presentation, invigorated from your previous orgasm. Maybe you should be the one thanking her.

“What’s wrong?”

You look back at Kafka. “I hate my job.”

“You should quit, then.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?”

“…And do what?” You ask flatly.

“Whatever you want.”

You stare at her momentarily, wondering what kind of reality she must live in where everything is available for the taking. Your studies were largely influenced by the constant pressure your parents put on you to get a sustainable income, and you were too preoccupied with your grades to ponder the what-ifs. They sacrificed quite a bit to have you enroll in one of the Intelligentsia Guild’s schools, your academic success was the least you could do to settle that debt somehow. You don’t care for mechanics but it was a relatively easy subject to study, so you picked it. You’re good at what you do, despite this job not being what you dreamed of doing for the rest of your life. Now, you’re not sure if you even have dreams. You have some skills, sure, but what do you want?

Kafka’s looking at you like she’s figuring you out. You don’t know what she aims to find but a childish part of you hope she likes it. You shake your head as if the thoughts would evaporate with the movement and stand from the bed.

“I should finish my work,” you say on the way to the bathroom, flicking the light open.

“I need to go too.” Kafka pauses, seemingly considering something, then continues, “Do you have plans on Thursday?”

The question is unexpected, it takes you a few seconds to come up with an answer. “Apart from work, I don’t think so. Why?”

“You should stay home. Skip work.”

“Why would I do that…?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” The reply leaves you before you can think about it, but it’s the truth. Kafka has never given you any reason to trust her up till now, you don’t even believe half of the things she says. Trusting her for anything would be incredibly foolish.

Her eyes narrow a bit, though that small smile stays on her lips. Your confusion must show on your face, and you have the impression that her demeanor has gotten more serious.

“Trust me now. I have to leave, but I hope you take my advice. If not… Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Wh—?”

The video call disconnects. Did she just hang up on you?!

After a quick shower and a change of sheets, you end up completing your assignment in around 40 minutes and getting a few hours of sleep before you have to leave for work. The day is long, and your anxiety intensifies with each passing hour but you present your project idea with little to no problem. The rest of the week passes quickly with no further messages from Kafka, but you stop expecting her to hit you up for anything other than sex so you get better at hiding your disappointment, enough that you’re able to focus on your job like the development of the past two weeks never happened. On Thursday, you wake up for work and sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone open on the private conversation between you and Kafka, debating with yourself whether you should ask her to clarify her last words to you. You try to recall her expression when she said them. Reading her is hard, her behavior is too well-rehearsed to be peeled to pieces by anybody— and you guess that is what you are; anybody. You feel like an idiot as you dial your office to call off work.

With nowhere to go, you spend the day at home watching shitty TV until the sky begins its descent in the sky, catching up on shows you previously had no time for. You do go out for groceries in the afternoon to cook something nice for yourself once dinner comes around, but your day is mostly boring and uneventful. You’re lying on the couch, half-lidded eyes barely focusing on the bright TV screen as it plays the same sitcom you’ve been watching for almost two hours when your phone rings. The noise wakes you, you blink rapidly and reach for the device, accepting the call without looking at the contact ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Himeko’s musical voice sounds from the other line.

“Hime?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

You rub your eyes with a hand and sit up to pause your show. “No, not really. How’s trailblazing going?”

“It was kinda tough the last few weeks but nothing we couldn’t handle. What about you? Last time we talked you were pretty busy too.”

“I’m good, work has been a bit demanding lately because of this secret project thing I can’t really talk about, but nothing eventful has happened, except…” You cut yourself off.

“What is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Oh? Now I definitely want to know. Let me guess… It’s that lady again.”

“Lady?” You repeat with a laugh, “There is nothing ladylike about the way she f—”

“Ew. I get it.” You hear shuffling on the other side, like Himeko is walking from one place to another. “You were complaining about her last time, what happened now?”

“More complaints.”

“I can’t understand why you won’t end things if all you’re going to do is get annoyed every time you see each other. Learn to walk away from unnecessary grievances, they only pollute your thoughts.”

You stand from the couch and walk towards the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out the stuff you’ll need for dinner. “The sex is really good. Like, great. Like, mind-blowing. Toe-curling, even.” You can almost hear Himeko’s eye roll. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I don’t know why she has to be so infuriating. It’s obviously a case of big ego, but there’s something more in there. She just won’t let me see it.”

“You’re practically strangers. No wonder.”

“She’s been inside me. I wouldn’t call us strangers.”

“Do you know anything about her apart from her name?”

You pause with one hand around a carton of heavy cream. A door slides shut on the phone. You don’t have to think long to know the answer to that question, but you’re a little ashamed of it. Ashamed and disappointed, because it’s not by lack of trying; Kafka treats every attempt at getting to know her beyond the bounds of your relationship like a battlefield where she has to lie to survive. There’s a constant distance between you no matter how physically close she gets and it’s beginning to drive you mad. It was hot at first, the air of mystery around her is what drew you to her in that clothing store. Months later, it’s simply an obstacle you can’t jump over.

“Fine,” you reply with a sigh, closing the fridge and putting the carton on the counter, “you have a point. But it’s not like I haven’t tried, she just…”

“Doesn’t value you for anything other than sex?”

You don’t respond, mouth curving in a frown. That hurt your feelings, even though you know Himeko is only being honest because she hates this situation for you. She disapproved from the start, said you weren’t the type to have no strings attached, and she was right. You didn’t listen; Kafka is a splash of excitement in an otherwise pretty boring life, unraveling her takes skill and effort, and it is much more gratifying than a research well done. However… perhaps it’s time you do.

“Was that too far?” Himeko asks, voice soft. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than someone who brushes you off constantly unless they want something from you.”

“I know…”

There’s a sudden knock at your door and you furrow your brows as you look at the time on your phone. You’re not expecting anyone and you’re not a fan of people showing up unannounced in general, still, you start making your way out of the kitchen to the front door.

“We had an agreement, though,” you continue, “so it’s not like she owes me anything. I’m the one asking for too much.”

“You want to make connections with people and that is a beautiful thing. If she can’t see that, then she isn’t worth your time.”

You reach the front door, unlock it and turn the handle. “You’re probably r—”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue. In the hallway of your apartment building stands a panting Kafka, coat in one hand while the other is pressed hard against her bloodstained shoulder. Her white shirt is tainted with the seeping liquid which turns her glove a deep violet color, blood spatter over her torso and some spread onto her cheek as if she attempted to wipe it off. She’s hunched forward instead of her usual straight posture and the sunglasses over her tussled hair are cracked. You’re frozen where you are, a dozen thoughts buzz inside your head like restless bees and keep you from uttering a word; dread, worry, confusion, you can’t name them all. You have trouble computing what you’re looking at. Kafka looks up at you with the small smile she wears like armor. Even now, her nonchalance annoys you.

“Hey.”

The sound of Himeko calling your name over the phone and asking you if everything’s alright shakes you from your stupor. Your movements are slow, delayed, as you turn your head towards the device close to your ear and speak, “I’ll call you back.”

You hang up without hearing the response.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #kafka x reader #hsr x reader #kafka smut #hsr smut #kafka x you #hsr x you

196 notes · View notes

d10nsaint · 10 months

Text

HOW YOU COMFORT THEM WHEN THEY CRY | Kdj, Yjh, Lgy, Lys x fem! reader (platonic for the minor)

request: here !

saint, stfu?!; dtop my inbox id rotting I need to write fastar

KIM DOKJA

when Kim Dokja cries, its bound to be in an isolated place late at night, so nobody can find him. he wouldnt want to worry anybody with his ‘stupid’ feelings.

The sound of sniffling awoke you, making you step out of the tent that you slept in. When you fully stepped out and looked around, you saw Dokja sitting on a log by the fire.

“…Dokja? Are you alright? Why are you still awake?”

He jolts as he notices you, and quickly wipes his eyes. He turns around at you and smiles.

“..what are you doing awake, (y/n)? Is everything alright?” He asks, his eyes red, but heavy with confusion and comfort.

“I could ask you the same thing…” You say, walking towards him. You sit on the log next to him, and he watches. He thinks of a response to satiate your curiosity, but cant come up with a good enough excuse.He sighs and looks at the fire.

“It was nothing. I was just thinking.” He says, resting his head on one of his hands.

“I mean, you can talk to me if you want. I wouldnt mind,” You say, putting your head onto his shoulder.

He smiles at you and sighs attentively. He felt so lucky to have someone to talk to.

YOO JOONGHYUK

When Yoo Joonghyuk cries, he suppresses the tears, making them drop slowly like faint rain before a storm. He tries his hardest to hold his tears back, keeping his head down so nobody can see him cry.

As you finish a monster, you look over at Joonghyuk, ready to smile at him, but then you realize something.

Hes just standing there. In the rain.

He would usually usher you to get ready to move on and fight another monster for the benefits, but he just…wasnt saying anything.

“Are you alright, Joonghyuk?” You say, walking up to him with a hand out steadily, trying to reach his shoulder.

As your fingers slowly touch his coat that was soiled by the rain, you realize his broad shoulders were shaking and he flinches, then quickly swats your hand away. You sigh, pouting, watching him turn around and mutter a quiet “m’ fine.”

“If you ever need anything, you can talk to me. We’re friends, after all. Im here for you.” You say, as you pick up your equipment and look at his back.

“..we dont have time for this.” He says, walking away, expecting for you to follow. Little did you know, he wanted to take you up on the offer.

LEE GILYOUNG

when Lee Gilyoung cries, it’s bound to be after a tough encounter with a monster, or after a nightmare. He hyperventilates—unable to breathe or focus on anything.

You deliver the final blow on a monster, out of breath. You stand there for a few seconds, trying to atleast regain some of your stamina. It was a close fight.

You turn around to check on your crew, firstly checking on the youngest, Lee Gilyoung.

When you reach him, you quickly realize the little boy was shaking.

“Gilyoung?! Are you alright?” You say as you go down on your knees and look up at the boy. His eyes were red and his shoulders shook, with a quivering lip.

He tries to respond, but his words come out in hiccups, and he takes sullen breaths of air as he tries to breathe.

“slow down, its okay,” you say, rubbing his shoulders, trying to calm him down. You take a water out of your inventory, then look at him.

His breath slows down back to normal, and he drinks some of the water, as his lips stop quivering.

“..i think im feeling better now.” He says, looking up at you. His eyes were puffy and he sniffled. He looked downwards, ashamed.

You gave him a hug.

“Im so glad you’re alright, Gilyoung.” You say, as you rub his back. He reluctantly hugs you back, but then quickly melts into the hug.

“Thank you, Unnie.”

LEE HYUNSUNG

Lee Hyunsung’s tears are big droplets, flowing from his puppy eyes. His eyes get extremely watery, and he sniffles a lot when he cries.

After a tough day, Lee Hyunsung comes home to you and sulks, his big eyes watery and his mouth pouty.

You drag him to the bed, and he tells you about his day, all while sniffing. When he gets to the worst part of his day, he fully breaks down in your arms. You stroke his hair, telling him that everything is going to be okay.

As he slowly stops sobbing, he immediately apologizes—he says that “no man should cry to his wife,” and that “he should be comforting you, not the other way around”.

His eyes are red and puffy, and his lips are pouting as he looks down as if he’s disappointed in himself. You put a hand on his cheek and kiss it.

“Honey, it’s alright. There’s no reason to feel this way,” You say, smiling at him. “I’ll comfort you, and you’ll comfort me. Simple.” He smiles down at you, then wraps his arms around you, nuzzling into your chest as you two lay down.

“How did I get so lucky…?”

299 notes · View notes

its-freaking-jordan · 1 year

Note

Hello hello! If request still open, may I have a seperate headcanons for the Hantengu clones? with a fem s/o is selective mute.

what would the clones react when they heard their s/o spoke? it can be mention their name or say I love you?

(s/o communicate them through hand sign or writing on the paper)

Hantengu clones with a selective mute S/O

Your also a demon for this purpose.

Also not pleased with what Sekido did to the other clones..so yall getting angst for him.

Sekido angst

You usually write to him if you want to ever talk.

He‘a honestly a great listener im sorry he will give you advice whenever you need it believe it or not.

When you try to teach him signs language he was clueless. He understood some things but not all.

He never admits it but he would DIE to hear to voice.

Once you were both out on a mission, and boy he wished you stayed back home.

He knew you could protect yourself and knows how strong you are, but the mission got worse than what it should’ve been.

You were fighting off some slayers and left Sekido with 2 hashira to fight off, which you regret instantly. So there was a change in plans. You end up getting be-headed by one of the slayers. You head was in your hands, looking at your body your eyes widened. Sekido looked at you with horror. Were you about to actually die on him? “Y/n…Y/N!” Your body turned to face Sekido’s, dropping his staff he walked to you, putting his hands on your cheek. He looked like he’s on the verge of tears?.. “Sekido..I don’t want to die! Please!!.” You we’re begging for him to do something yelling at him with fat tears in your eyes, but you were also happy that you’re now free from the curse, you were going to be alone all over again. He hugged your body as your limbs were slowly burning. “Sekido please I don’t want to be alone again!!” He didn’t have anything to say, he was shocked to say at least, he finally heard your voice but, he wished it wasn’t like this. Ever since he hated himself for letting you die.

He also keeps a piece of your kimono with him.

Karaku nsfw-ish

You both communicate in sign language, he’s very good at it.

Often tease you whenever he can. Doesn’t matter if it’s sign language or what, he will find his ways.

Always curious about what your voice sounds like, and tells you what he personally thinks it sounds like.

You’d often smile when he tries to do “your voice” impressions, you want to actually speak with him but you just don’t know how to.

You were minding your business one day and decided to have to courage to finally speak with your boyfriend.

You were sitting down on the floor with Karaku big and squishy thighs squishing the side of your face. Leaning your head in his thighs you traced your finger on them. Karaku was in his own little world doing god knows what. You suddenly bit his thighs out of no where which caused him to snap out of his trance to shoot a look at you, groaning, with a small blush on his face. You looked up at him with innocent eyes, drinking his blood from his thigh, followed by a pleased moan. “Oh~… You decide to do this now but can’t wait until we’re in bed hm?” Submissive Karaku Shaking your head as a no, with a smirk on your face. “Actually Karaku.. I can wait my love, I just wanted to have a taste of you now..” His eyes widened in pure shock upon hearing your voice for the first time, it was pretty/handsome to him. In an instant he grabbed your arm and ran to the bedroom…

He’s the one who ends up being the bottom…Anywho..

Have fun darling <3

Urogi fluff

He does both, he knows sign language pretty well, but prefers whichever your comfortable with.

He doesn’t really care if your mute, he loves you for you.

Often ask you weird questions to keep you entertained if your ever bored.

Overall he’s very happy to have an S/O like you, doesn’t matter what condition you have.

You were both on a night walk, holding eachother hands enjoying the silence. Urogi was humming a random song he heard a villager sing, it was quite the song. “The moon is quite lovely tonight, isn’t it Urogi.” Urogi stopped in his tracks and just stared at you in pure shock, his eye lighting up along with his wings fluttering. As if a child was just offered candy. He quickly flew over to you, flying in the air hugging you tightly, causing you to laugh with him. “Holy shit!! Your voice is so heavenly! If that’s a word…, But who cares!!” Now he would often get you to speak more because he just loves your voice.

Aizetsu fluff

A little after episode 7, but if they won.

He prefers writing, he doesn’t mind sign language but he just like to write.

He would often write letters to remind you that he loves you no matter what, which makes your heart melt into millions of pieces.

Does think of what your voice could possibly sound like, but don’t actually ask you, he doesn’t wish to step over your boundaries.

He came back after a mission with his brothers but they looked traumatized, but the oldest one..

Being the good S/O you are, you wrote on a paper asking him what was wrong.

Aizetsu just stared at you, debating if he should actually tell you what happened. He ends up tell you what happened with his oldest brother absorbing him and his brothers, in details. It made you shudder just imagining it, Aizetsu swore that he’s alright now which you found hard to believe, you just hugged him to comfort him. “I’m sorry that happened to you hun… But you’re alright now, I’m here with you.” I kid you not this man was crying, fat tears falling from his face, he hugged you back, his head buried at the crook of your neck. He was smiling, happy tears to be exact. “Thank you Y/N…”

I need more requests in my inbox..Pleaseeee🙌🏾

1K notes · View notes

agaypanic · 2 months

Text

The Fella Part 11 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

The Fella Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: As prom approaches, the girls find a strange friend in the new Our Lady Immaculate student.

A/N: ahhhh only one chapter left!!! i usually don’t say the word count in fics, but this is the longest chapter of The Fella and possibly my longest fic to date, its almost 9k words long. So just a warning for yall. like the last few chapters, thanks to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the script of this episode for me. Some suggestive stuff (not talking about michelle lol), but the characters are 17 and it’s not explicit. If you’re gonna be like “this surprise character you put in totally wouldn’t do this” just keep it to yourself bc i can do what i want, im the god of my creation (im so fucking crazy)

***

School formals were always exciting. At least, if you went with exciting people. And if it was a formal at the end of the year, it was even better because you could celebrate school ending and a summer of fun beginning.

One of the reasons Y/n and her friends were looking forward to the end of term was because they wouldn’t have to hear Jenny Joyce’s horrendous singing for a few months. Everyone in the assembly seemed to share their sentiment as they all stared at the stage, uninterested and displeased. It didn’t help that the girls were dressed in striped suit jackets, making them look like some sort of barbershop quartet. Y/n cringed as Jenny and her friends sang their last note, which wasn’t very good.

There was a slight pause, and Sister Michael looked relieved that this was the song’s end. “Lovely…” It was clear that she didn’t really think so. “And I believe you wrote the lyrics yourselves, is that correct?”

“It is indeed, Sister,” Jenny responded smugly.

“Makes sense,” Y/n muttered to her friends. “It was a load of shite.” They all made quiet sounds of agreement before turning their attention back to the stage.

“Do you ever think you might have too much time on your hands, girls?” Jenny and her group didn’t respond, but there was a murmur of giggles among the crowd as Sister Michael stood from her chair. “Lose the jackets.” She said, dismissing them from the stage before stepping up to the microphone. “Okay, just a couple of things. Firstly, I’d like to introduce Mae Cheung. Can you make yourself known, please, Mae?”

A few rows before the girls, a hand slowly and awkwardly rose into the air in the middle of the crowd. Everyone tried to get a good look at her, but it was difficult since most people could only see the back of her head.

“Miss Cheung’s family have recently moved here to Derry, so I hope you’ll all make her feel very welcome. It’s bound to be a bit of a culture shock, Mae. Things are done differently in this part of the world. But I’m sure you’ll soon feel as at home here as you did back in your beloved Donegal.” There was a beat of silence before Sister Michael remembered the other announcement she needed to make. She pulled out a piece of paper, looking at the crowd before reading it. “Announcement from Jenny Joyce and the dance committee: ‘The school social event for the year is fast approaching, but before you… don your glad rags… and- boogie- on- down…’” She sighed, looking at the paper appalled. “I’m sorry, I simply cannot read this.” She stepped away from the microphone, giving Jenny Joyce the paper before sitting in her chair.

Jenny eagerly went to the mic, showing too much energy and enthusiasm for a Monday morning with her big grin and little dance moves as she spoke. “But before you don your glad rags and boogie on down, we’d like to let you in on our little secret. We’re not actually gonna have a school formal this year.”

The assembly went into an uproar, and rightfully so. There were some murmurs of disbelief and booing, and Jenny waved her hands around with a smile.

“No, listen. We’re not gonna have a school formal. We’re gonna have…” As she paused for effect, her three friends started singing ‘doo-be doo’s in the background. “A fifties prom!”

That caused even more of a reaction. Michelle and Y/n were pretty vocal about this silly decision, gaining the attention of Sister Michael. “Girls!” She said, effectively quieting the large room. She addressed all the students, but her somewhat mischievous gaze was on Y/n and Michelle. “If you have any feedback, you can find Miss Joyce after assembly.”

“I know, I know.” Jenny laughed off everyone’s reactions. “But I do love a theme. Sure, isn’t that why they call me the Theme Queen?”

The girls looked at each other, confused. “Who said that?” Y/n asked.

“Do they?” Clare questioned.

“Do they fuck.” Michelle answered.

Jenny continued, not having heard their little conversation. “We wanted to have a real, old school, retro, vintage vibe, so feel free to just go for it!”

“Feel free to kiss my hole,” Michelle muttered.

After being released by Sister Michael, the girls and James walked through the hallways, discreetly looking for someone. Turning into one of the halls with a wall of lockers, Clare gasped.

“There she is.” Everyone saw the new girl, Mae, at her locker. Clare turned around to face her friends, filled with her usual frantic energy. “Okay, so, I say we just go over there and be ourselves, girls. Well, not totally ourselves. We should definitely be a bit ourselves. We could also pretend we’re sort of better than we actually are, so, I supposed what I’m saying is we could present a version of ourselves as less-”

“Shit.” Y/n finished the sentence, giving Clare a much-needed break to breathe.

“Precisely.”

“Why do we even have to talk to her?” Michelle asked, her crabby mood from having to listen to Jenny earlier still present.

Clare rolled her eyes, thinking the answer was obvious. “Because she’s new, Michelle.”

Michelle groaned. “I hate people I don’t know.”

“Aw.” Y/n cooed, putting an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Does that mean you love us?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She answered, shoving Y/n’s arm off.

“And, in case you hadn’t noticed, she happens to be Chinese.” Clare continued. “I mean, how class would it be to have a Chinese friend?”

“We could keep her in my toy box.” Y/n and Erin looked at their cousin with alarm.

“No, we couldn’t, Orla.”

“That’s kidnapping, I’m pretty sure.”

“She’d definitely fit,” Orla said adamantly.

“That’s not the point.”

“Fine.” Michelle was clearly ignoring the strange side conversation. “But can we agree it’s on a strict one-in-one-out basis? If she joins the group, James has to leave.”

Everyone responded in agreement, except for Y/n and James, of course. The girls made their way over to the new girl, leaving the couple confused.

“Excuse me?” James said to no one in particular, but then frowned at his girlfriend. “Are they serious?”

Y/n snorted, grabbing James’ arm. “Probably.” Without further elaboration, she pulled the boy towards the rest of their friends. Despite only being separated for a short time, it seemed that James and Y/n had missed some secondhand embarrassment from Clare’s brief interaction with the new girl, Mae.

Mae stared at Clare for a moment before looking at the group. “Is she alright?”

Michelle leaned down to Clare’s ear, rolling her eyes. “Burnin’ for you, Clare.”

“It’s Cantonese.” Clare stuttered out to Mae.

“Right. Well, I’m from Donegal, and we speak English there.”

“If you say so, Mae,” Michelle said. “But I spent a summer in Killybegs, and seriously, not a fuckin’ word.” Y/n elbowed her friend in the side, making a comment about how that might’ve been more of an issue with Michelle’s intelligence than with the town of Killybegs.

Clare smiled kindly at Mae, trying to amend the awkward situation. “We just wanted to introduce ourselves and-”

“-Okay, I think I see where this is going.” Mae interrupted, holding up her hand to further silence the short blonde. “I get this a lot. Dull, white girls want me to join their gang because, well…” Mae gestured to herself to finish the point.

“We’re not dull,” Erin argued.

“Sure.”

Y/n pointed to James. “And he’s a boy.”

“A man, Y/n.” James corrected, as if he had had this conversation many times. “I’m a man.”

“Woah.” Mae almost laughed. “She has a really fucked up accent.”

“We know,” Michelle said with a sigh.

James leaned into his girlfriend, slightly offended. “I’m not a girl; I’m a man.”

“Sure you are, Jamie,” Y/n said, patting his cheek before focusing back on the main conversation.

Mae sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and looking the group over with a judging look. “What’s in this for me?” She asked. “What do you bring to the table?”

Orla held out her hand. “Six cream crackers?”

Y/n snatched one of the crackers and put it in her mouth, looking at Mae. “Five cream crackers.” She corrected. Mae raised her brow at the two girls.

“I’m good for cream crackers, thank you.” Her tone was filled with sass, but Orla didn’t catch it, so she just shrugged and put them back in her pocket. Mae slammed her locker closed and gave the girls one last look. “I’ll see you around, girls.”

The group disappointedly watched her walk off. Except for Orla, because the girl was an optimist through and through. “Maybe we don’t need a Chinese person.” She said. “We’ve still got a lesbian.”

Suddenly, Mae whipped her head back around. “What? Who?” She quickly walked back to the girls. Timidly, Clare raised her hand.

“Me.”

Mae didn’t look too convinced. “Really? You don’t look like a lesbian.”

Y/n put a protective arm around Clare, almost standing in front of her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” She asked inquisitively. Mae’s sudden interest and then questioning of Clare being a lesbian was making Y/n wonder if the girls should even try to get her to be their friend.

Mae seemed to ignore Y/n, instead giving Clare a once-over. “It’s just that you’re a bit… short.”

“Well, there’s no height restrictions.” Clare rebutted before glancing at Y/n a bit anxiously. “As far as I’m aware.”

“Interesting.” Mae started looking like she was putting together a scheme in her head. “I’ve always wanted a gay friend. I mean, ideally, a fella-”

“Oh, we’ve got one right here.” Michelle laughed, pointing to her cousin. He and Y/n looked at her with exasperation.

“I’m not gay!”

“He’s not gay!”

“Howdy, folks.” The girls recognized the voice instantly, cringing at the sight of Jenny Joyce, who had now intercepted the entire interaction. Michelle made her distaste for the girl known with an eye roll and a little curse. Jenny ignored it. “I’m Jenny. This is Aisling.” She pointed to the tall brunette who seemed to always be by her side. “We just thought we’d introduce ourselves and see if-”

Clare jumped between Jenny and Mae, throwing her arms out to shield the new girl from Jenny. “Too late, Jenny. She’s ours.”

“I see,” Jenny responded, looking amused and alarmed by Clare before looking back to Mae. “Look, these girls are great, but I do have a pen pal from the Caribbean, so perhaps my circle is a bit more diverse.”

“Back. Off.” Clare seethed, her intensity starting to startle her friends.

Jenny managed to hand Mae a piece of paper with her phone number scribbled on it. “Think about it. Give me a call.” She was finally about to walk away when she remembered something and spun back around to the group. “Oh! And F-Y-I, the Prom Queen vote closes today.”

“F-Y-I, nobody gives a shit,” Michelle remarked.

Aisling held out a piece of paper, waiting for someone to take it. “Here’s the wee ballot.”

Erin snatched it quickly, rolling her eyes when she read the list of candidates. “I see you’ve thrown your hat in the ring, Jenny.”

The girl waved her hand, her humility clearly faked. “I had my arm twisted, but feel free to tick my box.” Then she finally left, Aisling in tow.

Y/n snorted. “I didn’t know Jenny was like that.”

“Dirty bitch.” Michelle added, shaking her head.

***

After school, the girls decided to go to the shopping center instead of straight home. After all, they had much to discuss. After hopping off the bus, they started their trek into town.

“This prom is going to be a full-blown dick fest.” Michelle started, the word ‘prom’ catching everyone’s attention. “Y’know there’s not even gonna be a DJ? Apparently, Jenny’s hired this fuckin’ pensioner band.”

“Fucks sake.” Y/n sighed.

“Christ, really?” Erin asked.

Michelle nodded. “I heard the drummer is at least thirty.” Seeing the smirk she wore when dropping that piece of information, Clare’s mouth dropped in horror.

“I don’t feel so bad about missing it now,” James said, feeling a sense of relief. “It clashes with my thing.”

Y/n confusedly looked at her boyfriend, unaware of what his ‘thing’ was. But before she could ask, Michelle rolled her eyes and looked back at her cousin. “The creep convention? Seriously?”

“It’s not a creep convention!”

Michelle shrugged, clearly not convinced. “Well, I think a load of perverts gettin’ together to wank over some fella who fights hoovers and rides aliens in a telephone box, is the very fuckin’ definition of a creep convention.”

James scoffed. “It’s a Doctor Who night. Me and my stepdad used to watch it when I was little.”

“Well, someone should’ve called Social Services then, James.”

“You’re not going to the prom then, James?” Clare asked, seeming offended. He shook his head, and Clare looked over to Y/n, who was already looking at her with a confused and disappointed look.

Eventually, the group reached the shopping center. The conversation moved to the topic of dates, or lack thereof.

“I have no clue who to ask.” Clare sighed, a bit frustrated. “I’d ask James, but-” She cut herself off, remembering that she was the only one completely aware of the relationship between James and one of her best friends.

“But you’re not desperate, Clare.” Michelle finished her sentence with a laugh. “And tell me about it. There’s at least five fellas who fancy the arse off’a me, but I just can’t choose.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely the same,” Clare responded with a grumpy face and monotonous tone.

Erin nudged the small blonde with her elbow. “I’ll be your date, Clare.”

“But, Erin, people might talk. They might get the wrong idea.”

“Let them.” She said proudly, head held high. “We need to break down these ridiculous conventions.”

Y/n would’ve commented about her sister’s somewhat fake activism, but she kept her mouth shut after seeing the hopeful look on dear Clare’s face. “Thank you.”

Erin would have responded to Clare if she hadn’t caught sight of a familiar face. Through the window of the cafe the girls were walking to, Erin could see a boy about their age sitting at a far table with a girl, and they both looked somewhat miserable. “Oh God, John-Paul’s over there,” Erin said stiffly, turning around to look at her friends. “Christ, but it’s been so awkward since we broke up.”

“For fuck’s sake, Erin,” Michelle said, remembering the event a bit differently than how Erin was painting it. “He kissed your cheek at Kerry Coyle’s sixteenth birthday party.”

“Didn’t he pass out in his own boke?” Y/n asked, recalling the embarrassing moment. “Feckin’ lightweight.”

Erin looked over her shoulder back at John-Paul. “Yeah, he missed that boat, alright.”

“Come on already.” Michelle opened the door, pushing the girls into the cafe. “I’m fucking starving.”

James was about to go inside but was held back by Y/n. The door closed after Orla, leaving the couple outside.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” James asked, as curious and thoughtful as ever.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the convention?”

James cringed at the twinge of hurt in her voice, realizing that he had never told her about the Doctor Who convention and how it was the same night at prom. “I… forgot?”

“You’re really gonna go?” Y/n didn’t want to start a fight over this, but she thought her boyfriend would have debated between prom and the convention, or tell her that he had plans at the very least. James nodded. “I just thought that, you know, prom is usually a couple’s thing. And we’re a couple. I thought it might be fun to go together.”

“I can go to prom if you want me to,” James said, wanting to please his girlfriend.

But that caused the opposite reaction. Y/n shook her head, a slight frown appearing on her face. “I don’t wanna force you to go, James. You can obviously go to the convention if you really want to. I just…” She sighed, getting a little worked up. “I just wish you would’ve told me first, that’s all.”

James nodded apologetically. “I was going to, Y/n, I swear. It just slipped my mind.”

“It’s fine.”

The two stood outside the cafe door, wondering if there was anything more to say or if they should go inside.

“You know, just because I’m not going doesn’t mean you don’t have to go,” James said, giving his girlfriend a hopeful look. “I mean, if you want to go, of course.”

Y/n nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Another pause. “We’re okay, right?”

The slightly scared look on James’ face, like he had done something wrong, made Y/n place her hands on his cheeks and sweep her thumbs over his cheekbones in a comforting motion. “Of course, we’re okay, Jamie.” To emphasize the point, she gave him a peck on the lips before letting go of his face and grabbing his hand. “Now let’s go inside, I’m hungry.”

When they entered the cafe, James walked Y/n to the table their friends were sitting at and pulled out a chair for her to sit in before going to the counter to order for the both of them. “She is not a model!” Erin responded sharply to something Y/n had missed.

“Who’s not a model?” She asked quickly, and her friends looked at her like they didn’t realize she had just now entered the conversation.

“Cara something,” Michelle answered, not very discreetly pointing over to the girl sitting with John-Paul. “The girl that that John-Paul fella is pokin’. Heard she’s gonna be on Baywatch.”

“Oh yeah, I heard that too.”

Erin groaned in frustration, looking at her sister. “Get real, Y/n. She’s not gonna be on Baywatch.”

“It’s just what I heard.”

“Oh my God.” Clare seemed to be the only one still paying attention to John-Paul and the supposed Baywatch model. “Looks like they’re breaking up.”

The girls looked at the couple. Erin almost snapped her neck with how fast she turned her head. “Jesus, are they really?” She wondered aloud, a bit too hopefully. “Are they breaking up?” Cara got up and left the table, leaving a broken-hearted John-Paul to watch her walk away. Erin’s eyes also followed the girl, but she seemed much more gleeful about Cara’s departure. “They are. They’re breaking up. This is class!”

“What?” Clare asked, being the voice for the perplexed group of girls.

“Later.”

As soon as Cara was out the door, Erin jumped out of her seat and sped over to John-Paul.

“What’s class?” James startled the girls as he set some food and drinks on the table before sitting in the empty chair beside Y/n.

“Remember how we were talking about that lad John-Paul?” Y/n asked, taking a sip of her drink as James nodded. “Well, him and the girl he was with, who’s gonna be on Baywatch, by the way, broke up, and she left him. So now Erin’s swooped in like a vulture.”

“She has no respect for herself,” Michelle commented, looking over the menu on the table. “And coming from me…”

“That is bad.” Clare frowned.

“Terrible even,” Y/n added.

“Exactly.”

Clare, Orla, and Michelle soon got up and went to the counter to order. This gave Erin privacy to bother John-Paul, who looked like he was seconds away from a breakdown, and allowed Y/n and James to have lunch and talk in peace.

“Can I have a bite of your sandwich?” The girl asked, pointing at the nibbled-on food in front of James.

“If I can have a bite of your doughnut.” He responded, pointing his own finger to the sweet treat.

The couple nodded in agreement and held their food to each other’s mouths. They took a bite at the same time, mumbling about how good the food was while chewing.

“What’re you doing?” Michelle asked, her lip curling in a slight snarl as she, Clare, and Orla came back to the table.

“What?” Y/n asked, not noticing James taking a second bite of her doughnut.

“You’re looking like you’re going out or something,” Michelle explained, wagging her finger between the two teens. “It’s making me sick. Like, if someone thought I was goin’ out with James, I think I’d kill myself.”

“Hey!”

“Well, he is your cousin, Michelle.” Y/n laughed.

Her friend shrugged and sat down, muttering about how the English thing was worse before talking to Clare about something else. With the attention off of them, Y/n reached down to squeeze James’ hand and smiled at him. But the smile was soon wiped off her face when she realized her doughnut was now half eaten.

***

Erin boasted about her new prom date the entire walk home, much to everyone else’s outspoken chagrin and annoyance. James, Michelle, and Clare were lucky, because they didn’t live in the McCool-Quinn household. So after the three dispersed from the group to go to their own homes, Y/n and Orla had to hear about Erin’s plans to get a new dress and maybe even new shoes to impress John-Paul for their date.

Then, the rest of their family got to hear about it.

“This is a huge deal.” Erin insisted to her mother that she was following around the kitchen. “This is a massive, massive deal. I’m going to the prom with John-Paul O’Reilly, for God’s sake. Come on, Mammy!”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t care if you’re going to the prom with John Paul the Second, Erin. I’m not buying you another frock. End of story.”

“But, Mammy, you don’t understand.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with your Easter dress.”

Erin scoffed. “There’s lots of things wrong with my Easter dress.”

“It matches Y/n and Orla’s.” Mary persisted, waving her hand over to the girls she just named. Orla was wearing her Easter dress and holding her mother’s cigarette while she and Y/n pinched the fabric at her waist to see what had to be taken in.

“That being the main one.”

“Honestly, Erin, I think we’ll look so cracker if we rock up wearin’ these.” Orla grinned, doing a little shimmy with her words.

Erin raised her brows and gave her cousin a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Right, well I don’t.”

Aunt Sarah pulled more on the loose fabric, grabbing her cigarette from her daughter for a quick drag. “Ach, Mary, you’d think the wain’s been dropped into it. You wouldn’t nip it in a bit for her? I’d do it meself, but sewing plays havoc on my acrylics.”

“Fine.”

“Y/n, dear, can you pin it for me?” Sarah asked, gesturing to her nails. The girl nodded and grabbed some safety pins to cinch Orla’s dress. “Then afterward, Orla and I can do yours for you.”

“Nah, that’s fine,” Y/n replied. “Don’t think I’ll wear it.”

Orla gasped in disappointment, wondering why both her cousins didn’t want to match with her. Meanwhile, Erin kept trying to convince her mother she absolutely needed a new frock.

“I really like this fella, Mammy.”

“Well, if he really likes you, it won’t matter what you wear.”

“Ach, come off it!”

“Have you a date lined up, girls?” Aunt Sarah asked her daughter and niece before taking a drag of her cigarette.

One seemed to be more enthusiastic about the question than the other. “I do, aye,” Orla answered.

“What?” Erin gave her cousin a strange look. “...With, like, a human?”

The girl blinked before nodding, like Erin was the strange one. “...Yeah.”

“What about you, love?” Sarah looked to Y/n, who was wrapped up in making sure she didn’t accidentally stab Orla. The girl looked up when she realized she was being spoken to. “Has anyone snatched you up for the dance yet?”

Y/n shook her head, trying to not seem so disappointed about it. “Nope. But it’s fine.” She sighed, going back to picking at her nails. “I dunno if I’m even gonna go.”

“What d’ya mean you’re not going?” Erin questioned, seeming offended that her sister would even debate not attending the prom. “You have to go.”

“Why do I have to go, Erin?”

Erin made that little sort of laugh and eye roll that she did when she felt like someone had said something silly or dumb, and she was about to correct it with her obvious intelligence. “It’s prom, Y/n. It’s a big deal.”

“It’s only prom-” Y/n was cut off by a commotion in the living room. Gerry yelped in surprise as Joe banged on something, but no one seemed to care enough to look at what was happening. She shook her head and continued. “Besides, Erin, there’ll be other proms. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Y/n could tell her sister wasn’t entirely convinced. To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t too convinced herself. But she’d rather lie and say she didn’t care than make James feel bad about being unable to take her.

Erin looked at Y/n inquisitively. She walked up to her and crossed her arms. “Is this because Ja-”

“This stupid prick’s broken the TV, Mary!” Joe cried out, and his daughter rushed to the living room. Gerry looked appalled at his father-in-law. “He’s been futterin’.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one that was thumpin’ it repeatedly, Joe.”

“I’ll thump you repeatedly.”

“Well, the pair of you’d better sort it out!” Mary interjected before walking over to her sister. “London’s Burning’s on in twenty minutes.”

“God, Mary, but them poor fellas are flat out with fires, so they are. Jesus, but they never get a minute.”

Behind Mary, Joe started to slam the television even harder than before, and Gerry cringed with every slap. “Aye, it’s a good job they keep themselves in such great shape.”

“Don’t, Mary.” Sarah gasped. “That Greek fella…”

“He could throw me over his shoulder any day of the week.”

Y/n and Erin stared at their mother and aunt before looking at each other. They were both equally horrified and disgusted.

“They make me sick.”

“Boke-o-rama.”

***

Clare didn’t take the news of Erin ditching her for John-Paul very well, despite telling Erin it was fine. Erin was the only one who believed her, too wrapped up in her and John-Paul’s revived “relationship.” But Clare pretty quickly found a new date: the new girl from Donegal, Mae, who was going dress shopping with the girls and James when she heard about Erin’s little betrayal.

After Clare’s date problem was solved, the girls had to solve their dress problem. But Michelle came to the rescue—or rather, her mother’s credit card that she stole came to the rescue. Despite Clare’s very vocal opinion about committing a crime, the rest of the girls were on board on account of having no money.

“What do you think of this one?” Erin asked, coming out in a very tight, turquoise dress.

“It’s very…” Y/n trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate word. “Different.”

“I’m not sure it’s you, really,” Michelle added.

“Good,” Erin said, in a bit of a struggle as she walked over to a mirror. “I don’t wanna be me.”

Clare walked up to the group, holding two dresses. “Which of these do you like best?”

“Definitely the pink,” Erin answered.

But Clare didn’t care much about Erin’s opinion. “Has to be the blue,” Mae said, and Clare glared at Erin.

“Yeah, I thought the blue.”

“What about you, Y/n?” James asked a bit quietly, holding a pile of dresses that all the girls had thrown at him. “Don’t you wanna look for a dress? You are going to the prom, right?”

He knew her answer before she said it, because she gave him a bit of a frown and a shrug. “I don’t think I will.”

“Y/n-”

“It’s fine, really! I was thinking of helping Daddy fix our TV.” She looked around at all the clothing racks before giving James what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Besides, nothing here’s really my taste.”

“Although, I have heard he’s really good with his hands.” Michelle talking about one of her possible dates reached the couples’ ears. “And when I say he’s good with his hands, I’m not talking about puttin’ up shelves, girls. I’m talking about-”

“Everybody knows what you’re talking about, Michelle.” James interrupted, hoping it would be enough for her to move on. But everybody also knew there was no stopping Michelle from her vulgarity.

The curly-haired girl smirked. “Fingerin’.”

James cringed. “Honestly…”

After much decision-making about what dresses to get, the girls went to the front to pay with Michelle’s stolen card. Mae, who didn’t find a dress she liked, gasped and pointed behind the counter to a red dress that was hung up.

“Oh my God, that’s the one! Can I try that one on, please?”

“Sorry, love.” The shop owner said apologetically. “That’s being left over for someone.”

“What?”

“Hiya!” In came Jenny Joyce, holding a couple of balloons. “Sorry girls, can’t stop.”

“Don’t worry.” Y/n smiled. “No one asked you to.”

“I’m just grabbing a few wee bits for the prom.” Jenny continued while the owner started bagging up the red dress. “Sure, you know how it is.”

“I was actually about to try that one on,” Mae said, pointing to the dress Jenny was now paying for.

“Well, I left it over, so…”

“It’s just that, red’s my color.”

“Yeah, mine too.”

The rest of the girls backed up a bit, surprised by how hostile Mae and Jenny were becoming towards each other. “No, you don’t understand. I really, really suit it.” The shop owner placed the bag on the counter, and Mae inched her hand towards it. “Garnet’s actually my birthstone.”

“Well, ruby’s mine, so…” Jenny grabbed her bag, and Mae slammed her hand on the counter. She looked at the Joyce girl menacingly. If Jenny was intimidated, she definitely didn’t show it.

“I want that dress, Jenny.”

“Well, you can’t have it.” Jenny left the store, leaving the girls to deal with Mae, who was cursing her out and beyond livid.

***

Prom night had finally arrived after much anticipation. Erin was upstairs in her room getting ready on her own while Aunt Sarah was doing her daughter’s hair and makeup in the kitchen. Mary watched while sipping her tea because Erin didn’t want her help, and Y/n decided to help her father fix their busted television set instead of going to the dance. Granda Joe was nowhere to be found, which relieved Gerry a bit because it meant his father-in-law wasn’t criticizing him.

“Now, close your eyes,” Sarah said, picking up two giant cans of hairspray. “I’m just going to give you a wee light mist, just so it holds for you.”

Y/n could smell the fumes from her spot on the floor in the living room, so she could only imagine what it was like being her mother or cousin in the kitchen. A cloud of hairspray surrounded Orla, making her cough a bit, and Mary covered her tea.

Finally ready, Erin came down from her room and into the kitchen. It took her a bit of effort because her dress was so tight that she had to take baby steps in her heels. “What do you think?” Everyone looked at her, all seeming to have the same reaction.

Mary looked the most surprised by her daughter’s appearance. “God, aye. It’s…” She trailed off, wanting to be honest but nice about it. “Different, isn’t it?”

“Different?” Erin asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… it was nice of Michelle to lend it to you, love, but it just doesn’t look…” Mary grimaced, trying to choose her words carefully, “very comfortable.”

Erin rolled her eyes a little. “It’s really comfortable, actually.” She said, walking closer. “It’s like a second skin.”

“I don’t think that’s a good thing, Erin,” Y/n called out, handing Gerry a screwdriver. “I dunno if a second skin should be turquoise and… Well, squeaking when you walk.”

“It does not squeak,” Erin replied, squeaking as she hobbled to the table.

Erin looked forward to see Orla looking at her grumpily. “I wish you would wear your Easter frock, Erin. When we were wee, we always went to parties dressed the same.”

“We’re not wee anymore, Orla.”

Orla grumbled in agreement while Erin handed her mother a piece of paper. Mary unfolded it and looked it over, and Aunt Sarah did the same from over her shoulder.

“What’s this?” Mary asked.

“It’s some guidelines,” Erin answered. “Things you are and aren’t allowed to say to John-Paul when he gets here.”

“Right.” Mary stared into her daughter’s eyes, not looking away as she crumpled the paper into a ball. Erin looked a bit disturbed but decided it was best not to say anything.

“What time’s your date arriving at, Orla, love?” Sarah asked, doing the final fixes on Orla’s hair.

Granda Joe waltzed into the room, wearing a white suit with a yellow rosette pinned to it. “He’s already here.” He said, doing a little spin before walking the rest of the way to the kitchen.

“You asked Granda to the prom?” Erin asked, smiling a little.

Orla’s grin was the widest in the bunch, eyes staying on her grandfather. “Well, everyone kept sayin’ you have to ask a fella you really like, and this is the fell I like the most.” Joe beamed, bowing down and presenting another yellow rose from his pocket for the girl.

“That’s so sweet, Orla.” Y/n said from her spot next to the TV. “Granda’s a lucky lad, that’s for sure.”

“Why, thank you, love,” Joe replied, turning to fully show his granddaughter the happy smile he had been sporting.

“Aye, you’re looking well, Joe,” Gerry added, taking a small break from trying to repair the television to weigh in.

“Oh, it’s not all shite you talk, Gerry.” Gerry gave his daughter an unimpressed look, making her giggle as he went back to the task at hand. Joe turned back to Orla. “Should we head?”

“John-Paul’s picking me up at seven,” Erin replied. “You go on; we’ll see you there.”

Joe looked back to Y/n, waiting for her answer. The girl waved her hand. “Oh, I’m not goin’. Don’t have a date and all that. Besides, I dunno what I’d wear.”

“You could wear your Easter frock, Y/n,” Orla said, trying to entice the girl once more into matching with her. But she just laughed and shook her head.

“No thanks, Orla.”

While Orla said goodbye to her mother and aunt, Joe walked over to Mary and whispered something to her. They looked over at Y/n, who didn’t notice their eyes because she was looking for a tool her father had asked for. Mary nodded at Joe for an unknown reason, and soon, he and Orla were off to the prom.

Erin sat down, struggling quite a bit because of her dress’s tightness. When she was settled, she looked at the clock. Only fifteen minutes until John-Paul arrived.

***

When twenty minutes had passed, Y/n knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her sister. She couldn’t say she was surprised, but she was still saddened for her sister. “I’ll be right back, Daddy,” Y/n whispered before standing up and sneaking to the entrance where the phone and some privacy were.

Y/n knew she had to call someone, but was racking her brain on who. Everyone she knew was either at the prom or busy with something else.

Suddenly, she jumped as if the idea that came to her had shocked her. She quickly dialed and held the phone to her ear, listening to the rings.

Then, someone finally picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“David?”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She peered out the door, seeing Erin still staring at the clock. “How’ve you been?”

“Same old stuff, really,” David answered. “Band’s picked up a few gigs this month, it’s been pretty-”

“That’s great. Listen, can you do me a favor?”

David couldn’t help but laugh at the interruption and how urgent Y/n sounded. “Uh, maybe? What d’ya need?”

“Remember my sister, Erin?” He made a small hum of confirmation. “Well, she used to have a massive thing for you until that whole thing at Jenny’s party a few months ago.”

“You mean when she called that Russian girl your fella was going out with a prostitute?”

“She was Ukrainian, but yes. Anyway, she pretty much gave up on you after that because the whole thing was so embarrassing. But…” Y/n looked to the kitchen again. She could see Mary looking at her daughter a bit sadly, as if she also knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her. “The prom’s tonight, and her date’s not coming. And… as annoying as she is, she’s my sister and all. So I was wondering if maybe you’d be willing to-”

“I’ll be there at 7:30.” David cut her off, feeling it was only fair since she had interrupted him just moments ago.

Y/n had to keep herself from squealing, not wanting to give Erin the idea that something was going on. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

After saying a quick goodbye, Y/n hung up the phone and snuck back out to the living room. David would arrive in twenty minutes, and she just had to count on Erin being hopeful enough to wait that much longer.

Nothing much had really happened in those twenty minutes. Y/n assisted Gerry in fixing their broken TV, Mary and Aunt Sarah played a card game, and Erin sat and stared at the clock. The only time she moved was to go to the phone in the kitchen, but she was so quiet and far away that Y/n had no idea who she was calling.

When the clock struck 7:30, Erin sighed. “He’s not coming.”

“Ach, love.” Mary frowned.

“I’m gonna go and change.” That made Y/n panic, and she scrambled off of the floor.

“What?” She said, walking over to Erin and slightly shaking her head. “No, just give it a few more minutes.”

“I wanna get out of this thing.” Erin teared up, struggling to get out of her chair. With how tight the dress was, she started to waddle towards the stairs.

Y/n was hot on her sister’s heels, which wasn’t hard because moving was so difficult for her in that tight dress. “Erin, please. Just-” The doorbell rang, and Y/n let out a breath of relief. She scooted past Erin and went to the door. “See! I told you! Now, I know you were hoping for John-Paul, but I think-... James?”

Y/n was stunned to silence. James was standing right in front of her, dressed up as the Fourth Doctor from Doctor Who, smiling right at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“David?” Erin waddled over to the door, and that’s when Y/n finally noticed her friend David Donnelly standing next to James, dressed in a suit with no tie.

“Erin.” He replied with a nod.

The two girls looked at each other, confused. “What’s he doing here?” They asked in unison, pointing to the boy that was in front of them, who both laughed at their reactions.

“I called David for you because I knew John-Paul stood you up.”

“I called James for you because I knew you wanted to go to the prom with him.”

Y/n looked up at her boyfriend. “Wait, what about your creep convention?”

She laughed when he rolled his eyes. “It’s not a creep convention, and you know that. And it’s not important. I just…” James sighed, toying with his long, colorful scarf. “I knew the prom meant a lot to you, and Erin calling me just gave me the push I needed. Besides, I didn’t want to miss a chance to dance with my girl.”

“Ach, Jamie.” Y/n sighed endearingly, cupping his face. She gave him a soft, long kiss that he eagerly returned.

Erin and David had their own little conversation, trying not to look at the couple that were sucking face. “I’m surprised you’re here. I haven’t seen you since… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” David laughed a little, thinking back to that night. Then he shrugged. “But Y/n called tellin’ me your date stood you up and… I dunno, you’re kinda cool to talk to and whatever.”

“I am?” Erin asked excitedly.

“I said ‘kinda’.”

“Wait.” Y/n finally pulled away from James, looking down at her attire. “What am I gonna wear?”

“I’ll take you wearing this,” James said, seemingly serious as he looked at his girlfriend’s ripped jeans and oversized sweater that she had stolen from Granda Joe’s closet. The three other teens gave him unimpressed looks. “What? So what if it’s not a formal dress, she still looks nice.”

“I have something better.” Everyone jumped in surprise as Mary poked her head in. “Come over here. I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”

Y/n pulled Erin to their mother, giving the boys a final glance over her shoulder. “Go ahead and talk, we won’t be long.”

Mary led her daughters to the kitchen, where two big boxes they’d never seen before sat on the table. Mary gestured for the girls to open them, which they did.

“Oh my God, Mammy.” Y/n pulled out a pink dress with layers, ruffles, and small arm straps. Erin held a similar styled dress but in blue. “Where on earth did you get these?”

“They were my mother’s,” Mary answered, looking at the dresses fondly. “Your Granda said to bring them out, in case you changed your mind about the dance. Heard it was fifties themed and all that.”

Both of Mary’s daughters now had tears in their eyes, but they were not from sadness. The girls rounded the table to hug their mum tightly.

“You know, the dress is nice and all but-” Erin cut herself off with a sniffle. “I think I wanna match with Orla.”

“Well, one of you better be wearing my Mammy’s dress,” Mary said, deadly serious with only a tiny hint of amusement in her voice. “I didn’t dig these boxes up for nothing.”

“I’ll wear it.” Y/n laughed, grabbing the box with the pink dress. “Come on, Erin, let’s go change.”

***

“You look lovely.” This was the fifth time James had said this to Y/n in the past thirty minutes. But he meant it every time he said it.

And Y/n knew he did because he couldn’t stop staring at her. “Thank you, Jamie. You look just as handsome.” The couple walked to the school doors arm in arm, Erin and David a few steps behind them. “Although…” James opened the door and looked at his girlfriend curiously. “Are you sure you didn’t want to leave the scarf at home?”

“I think it completes the look,” James said with a bit of humor, toying with the piece of clothing. “But if you want, I can leave it in the car.”

“Nah.” Y/n shook her head, giving James a peck on the lips. “How else am I gonna pull you to the dancefloor?”

The two couples went into the decorated gym, quickly spotting two of their friends. Clare was talking frantically to Michelle, who honestly looked like she couldn’t care less.

“Look, there’s a guy here; he knows Mae-” The four heard Clare say before Michelle cut her off, looking over the blonde’s shoulder to see them.

“What’s going on?” Clare turned around, a bit spooked by the sudden appearance of her friends. Michelle grimaced at Y/n and James standing together arm in arm, but opted to comment on Erin’s new date instead. “Oh, don’t tell me. Wank-features stood you up.”

“Yeah.” Erin shrugged it off like she hadn’t cried over John-Paul standing her up about an hour before. She nudged her sister. “But Y/n called David Donnelly here, so I wouldn’t go alone.”

“What can I say? I’m a sweetheart.” Y/n smiled.

Clare put a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Erin. About John-Paul, I mean.”

“No, I’m sorry. You were right; I was jealous. Mae’s just so cool and exotic, and you liked her so much-”

“She’s deranged!” Clare blurted out with wide eyes, taking everyone aback.

“What?”

“Who’s Mae?” David leaned back to ask Y/n and James, who said they’d explain later. He tsked, tapping Erin’s shoulder. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“Get me some punch.” She said before turning back to Clare. “What d’you mean, Clare? You were crazy about her yesterday.”

“She’s the one who’s crazy, Erin!” Clare squealed. “I met this guy that went to her school. He said she had to leave for, like, being a bully. He said she’s seriously unhinged! I think he’s a bit pissed off with her, to be honest, and I can’t blame him, ’cause she’s given the Chinese population of Donegal a really bad rap.” Clare’s friends would always be surprised over how much she could say without taking breaks for breath.

Michelle rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Typical Donegal man. Always moanin’.”

“There she is.” Everyone looked to where James was pointing. Sure enough, Mae was on the other side of the large room, going backstage.

“What’s she doing?” Michelle wondered, and everyone started walking closer to the stage to try and get a better look.

“She was talking about how she wasn’t going to let Jenny get away with the whole Prom Queen thing,” Clare answered.

James gasped. “Jesus Christ, look. Above the stage, look!” He pointed again, and everyone followed his finger to the tin buckets rigged with rope above the stage.

“Is she doing what I think she’s doin’?” Y/n asked.

“I think she’s gonna do a Carrie.” The couple looked both concerned and impressed, now both very glad they decided to come to prom.

“Fuck-a-doodle-do!”

“What’s a Carrie?” Clare asked frantically. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve never seen Carrie?”

“No.” Everyone said something about what a good film it was, but Clare wasn’t looking for film critiques. “Expand and explain! EXPAND. AND. EXPLAIN!”

“So, Carrie is voted Prom Queen, and this bully pours a bucket of pig’s blood on her.” James quickly explained.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Well, a lot of other stuff happens. But, you know, that’s the relevant bit.” Y/n said, but before she could go more into the movie, the band on stage finished playing.

Aisling stepped up to the microphone, some feedback echoing through the gym.

“Can I have your attention, please?” She said with a smile. The girls looked terrified. “And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. It’s time to crown our Prom Queen.” Mae waited for Aisling to announce the name everyone knew would be said. She held the rope tightly, waiting for the moment she could finally release it. “And now… our Prom Queen is… Jenny Joyce!”

The girl looked completely surprised, and the girls wondered, against their better judgment, if they could just let this all play out.

“We have to do something!” Clare yelled over the celebratory music as Jenny went up on stage.

While Jenny started to give a small acceptance speech, everyone started running. Except for Orla and Granda Joe, who were more than content with eating popcorn and watching the scene. David joined them, holding two cups of punch and wondering why his date was rushing the stage.

Michelle and James joined Erin to try and get Jenny off the stage, while Y/n went with Clare to stop Mae. It was a struggle, but it didn’t help as much as the girls thought it would. The only good thing was that Mae wasn’t crazy enough to use pig’s blood and instead soaked everyone on stage with tomato juice.

Erin tried to tell Jenny that her friends weren’t to blame, but Jenny, of course, didn’t believe her. The two girls started fighting, soon being joined by Michelle and Aisling. James just stood back and watched, not really wanting to intervene, and Y/n would’ve laughed if she wasn’t caught up in trying to break Clare and Mae apart. The rest of the audience seemed to enjoy the spectacle, laughing and having refreshments as it all played out.

***

It was a good thing David had towels in the boot of his car. Erin and James were covered and sticky with tomato juice, no matter how hard they tried to get it off them. Y/n was eternally grateful that she decided to go with Clare to stop Mae, sparing her grandmother’s dress. She didn’t think Joe would be too happy about it being covered in red, no matter how amused he was by tonight’s events.

“Jesus, the street’s packed.” David grimaced as he turned onto the sisters’ street. It was crowded with all their neighbors, whooping and partying for an unknown reason that they would surely hear about tonight or early tomorrow.

Y/n sighed, poking her head out the window. “I dunno if I wanna go home.” She settled back in her seat and looked at her boyfriend. “Wanna go to your place?”

“Sure.” He answered.

“Want me to drive you there?” David asked, but James shook his head.

“No, mate, it’s fine. I’m only a street over.”

“Yeah, take Erin home for me.” The Donnelly boy seemed to miss the sly wink Y/n gave her sister in the rearview mirror.

After some goodbyes and teasing comments, Y/n and James got out of the car and started walking down the street, weaving through all the people out and about. Surprisingly, Michelle and her parents weren’t home when the two arrived. Michelle must have still been panicking over how she was going to return her tomato-soddened dress, and James’ aunt and uncle were either at work or celebrating whatever was going on with their friends.

With the house empty, Y/n and James unwinded and relaxed. James took a much-needed shower, putting his clothes in a plastic bag so they wouldn’t stain anything else. Meanwhile, Y/n shimmied out of her dress and put on some of James’ pajamas.

“So, what do you wanna do?” James asked as he entered his room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Y/n was a little surprised by his boldness, remembering how shy he was some months ago when he didn’t have any clothes at her house and had to stand in his boxers while Y/n grabbed him a sweater.

“Maybe a movie?” Y/n suggested, watching James rifle through his dresser. She was filled with a sudden feeling of not wanting him to put on the clothes he was grabbing. “Carrie would be pretty fitting.”

They laughed, James shaking his head as he slipped his boxers on. “Oh, I don’t know.” He tore the towel off and sat down next to his girlfriend, pulling a shirt over his head. “I think there’s been enough blood, or blood adjacent, covered people tonight.”

Y/n laid back, humming in thought. “Well, there is… another thing... we could do.”

James looked down at Y/n, waiting for her to elaborate. She reached up his back, lightly tugging on his shirt until he laid down beside her. Y/n hooked a leg over James’ waist and brushed some wet curls away from his forehead. As her other hand slowly traveled down his chest, he started to get what she was hinting at.

“Only if you want to, obviously.”

James pushed Y/n off of him only to hover over her, kissing her deeply. He helped her shimmy up his bed until her head was resting on a pillow. Feeling brave, but mainly horny, James pulled away and took off his shirt before slipping his hand under Y/n’s.

“Are you sure?” James asked, slightly panting from how escalated the moment was getting.

“Yeah,” Y/n responded, taking a deep breath before pushing James away so she could take her own shirt off. James stared at her in amazement. Before she could tease him for his reaction, he gripped her bare waist and pulled her against him, kissing her with hunger.

The prom sure was exciting. But sometimes, what happened after was much more eventful.

~~~

The Fella Taglist: @mistahjsfunnygirl @etherealdisneyvillainness @crystalsoobin-m @raggedyoldwitch @rosetintworld @regretthatsme @neenieweenie @allexiiisss @drmeghanjones @eli-com @anything-for-our-moony-toast @ilovespideyyy @eddisaurus @imagines--galore @emma-is-a-nerd @sir1usblacksgf @kaz-2y567 @spidercrush3 @miilkshakess @underthebatcape @dear-jamespotter @brithedemonspawn @acupnoodle @nevillescomslut @hantivity @slaymybreathaway @mystic-writings @thegirlwithoutaname87 @mystic-mara @st4rryhae @ljaneyx @justlibra @siriuslyinlovewithsiriusblack @elauranicolee @in-my-hoe-era @grippleback-galaxy @greensunflowerjuna @sarcasm-and-stiles @callsignwidow @qtkat @asterizee @cursedandromedablack @athenalive

#agaypanic #the fella #james maguire x reader #james maguire #derry girls x reader #derry girls #erin quinn #orla mccool #michelle mallon #clare devlin

74 notes · View notes

mssorceressupreme · 3 months

Note

hiii i felt like ive read every single minho fic in existence & ive been dying from the lack of it so im hoping u can write ts 🙏🏼

fem!reader works for wicked and betrays the gladers w teresa (or not doesn’t matter). & instead of teresa talking to minho in that one scene, its reader. reader tries to explain that its for a good cause by being slightly stern n rude about it but breaks down for the first time and softens up when she realizes that it isn't right. reader then tries to make up with it by being a lil freaky…..,, (can be spice or smut idc)

HAHAHAH girl mans was literally in pain during that scene but ur so real 😩🤌🏼 literally tho I feel like the fandom is slowly dying and it hurts 😭😭 anyway, l hope I satisfied your prompt but I do apologise as I got slightly carried away at the end and added more to the plot 😭🫶🏼

——

Change | Minho x Reader

Summary: after betraying the gladers, you come face to face with one of them again. the one who captured your heart a long time ago, and you discover that feelings don’t go astray.

Warnings: spicy content, mild violence, mentions of blood and gunshots

——

You stood in the sterile lab, the cold, fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare in the white walls. The sound of machines humming filled the room, a constant reminder of the work you were doing here.

You paused from working on your lab report, glancing over at Teresa, who was intently focused on a computer screen, analysing data. “Do you regret it, Teresa?” You asked, “Betraying them?”

Teresa didn’t look up from the screen. “No,” she replied firmly, “We’re in the right, Y/N.”

You stared at her blankly, did she really not care about them?

“Don’t think too much about it, this is our job now. We’re here and not with them. They’re out there and it doesn’t matter anymore.” She continued, with a slightly gentler tone.

“Not all of them…” you mumbled.

Teresa looked up from her computer screen, she knew how much he meant to you back in the glade, about your secret infatuation with him. “The tests on Minho are looking good, he’s delivering promising results Y/N. If we continue testing, we’ll be closer to finding a cure.”

You nodded, but felt heavy with doubt. You had always believed in the cause, the need to find a cure and save humanity.

But seeing Minho captured and brought to the facility, subjected to tests and experiments, had stirred something inside you. Was this truly the way?

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were crossing the line but you chose to ignore that for the sake of finding the cure.

It was still early in the day and you were due for a check in session with Minho in a few minutes. The first session, and the first time seeing him since he was held captive.

You couldn’t bring yourself to visit him previously, well, not until now, since it was mandatory for you to check in with your subject as a scientist.

“Well I’m off, got a meeting.” You began packing up your items.

“Good luck. See you for a coffee later?” Teresa smiled softly, and you nodded, showing a small smile before leaving the room.

——

In no time, you found yourself sitting in the cold, clinical meeting room, waiting for Minho to be brought in.

You fiddled with a pen, your mind racing. When the door finally opened, and Minho was escorted in, your heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked worn, his usual fierce determination dulled by exhaustion and pain.

You sat at opposite ends of the table, the distance between you feeling both emotional and physical.

“Minho,” you began, trying to keep your voice steady.

Minho didn’t respond, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

“You have to understand where Teresa and I are coming from…” You continued, “This is for a good cause. We’re trying to save the world.”

Again, he didn’t move a muscle nor did he respond. But you could feel the tension between the two of you, the atmosphere was uneasy. The guilt of bringing him here, away from the other gladers weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You felt your resolve wavering but you forced yourself to remain stern, “You know how much we need to find a cure. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”

You sighed and continued. “There’s a girl here, her name is Cheyenne. You can help her Minho, we’re so close to finding a cure. You can help hundreds of infected people, think about it. It just takes a bit of sacrifice…”

Minho’s eyes narrowed, anger flashing in them. “By torturing and experimenting on people? How can you justify that.”

“There is no other way.” You sneered, “We’re doing the best we can.”

“Your best looks a lot like your worst.” He spat, clenching his fists through his handcuffs.

“At least we’re doing something about it! Unlike some people!” You slammed your pen on the table, frustrated with the amount of confusion running through your head.

Your head was thinking differently than your heart. You had certain thoughts, but out came opposing ones.

“You’re no better than WCKD,” He was spiteful, “You’re just like them.”

Your gaze softened, you shook your head slightly.

“The Y/N I know wouldn’t have done this.” He added, scoffing.

The weight of his accusation hit hard. You had always prided yourself on being different, empathetic, wanting to help people. But now, you felt the full force of your actions crashing down in you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you couldn’t hold them back any longer.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking, “I just wanted to help…I thought I was doing the right thing, but now, I don’t know anymore.” There had to be another way to cure humanity, this was straight up torture.

Minho’s expression softened slightly, seeing you break down for the first time. “If you really want to help, you need to stop this.”

You took a deep breath, the decision forming in your mind. You stood up and walked around the table, closing the distance between you. “I never wanted to hurt you, Minho.” You confessed, “I’ve always…loved you.”

He scanned your face, eyes darting from your eyes to lips, as you leaned in. Your lips brushing against his, before forcefully attaching.

Little did you know, that Minho too, shared your feelings. You had always admired him, his leadership, fearlessness, and the way he cared for other gladers, especially you.

Those moments where he paid extra close attention to you, wasn’t just because he cared for you like everyone else, but because he had feelings for you. You were always his first priority.

“Shuck, I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long.” Minho mumbled into the kiss, as he pulled you onto his lap despite having his hands cuffed.

“Please forgive me Minho, I can’t bear to see you like this anymore. I want to stop this, stop WCKD and find the others.” You were straddling him, and pulled away from the kiss.

His response was leaning in for another kiss. The kiss was filled with desperation and regret, a silent plea for forgiveness.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair lightly, while he pulled you closer to him, fully closing the gap between you.

He bit your lip slightly, you left out a soft moan in response. Your lips moved in sync, they became sloppy, desperate and hungry kisses. You craved more, you missed him badly, and this proximity was exactly what the both of you needed.

The fact that his was growing harder beneath you, and how wet you already were, made it evident that the both of you were touch deprived, and all your feelings had burst out in this session.

“Minho…” you moaned, as he began kissing your neck, finding your sweet spot and sucking on it until he left a mark.

“Looks like we’re both tagged now.” He smirked, his eyes still tired and weak, but a tinge of something else was shown, forgiveness.

You now couldn’t imagine how much the betrayal must’ve hurt him especially. But the past is in the past, you wanted to move forward and truly make up for your heinous actions.

You planted a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I’m never going to let you get hurt, ever again.” You looked down at his handcuffs, and grazed your thumb above them, “I don’t have the keys to this on me…they should be in the lab somewhere.”

You got off his lap, “As much as I’d like to continue, we need to get you out of here,” determination hardening your voice, “I’m going to help you escape.”

Minho looked at her, taken aback by your sudden change of heart, “Why would you do that? Never-mind me…what will WCKD do to you if they find out?”

“I don’t care about WCKD anymore. I realise now that I can’t justify what we’ve done,” You replied, “And I’m not letting them hurt you again, I care about you Minho.”

He nodded firmly, “What can I do to help?”

——

You grabbed the handcuff keys from your lab, un-cuffing Minho swiftly. He shook his wrists and cupped your cheeks, giving you a quick peck on the lips, “Thank you.”

As you made your way through the compound, you led the way. Using your clearance to bypass security systems and unlock doors.

It was all havoc. Alarms sounding, people rushing to flee something, gunshots erupting. There had been a sudden attack on WCKD and the Last City, and you mentally thanked yourself for switching to the right side on time.

When you encountered guards, you fought together, defending Minho. Your movements synchronised and steady.

You grabbed a fallen guard’s weapon, tossing another to Minho. You defended each other fiercely, a silent understanding between you. The both of you weren’t just fighting for survival, you were fighting for each other.

As Minho rounded a corner, he bumped into Thomas and Newt, who were searching for him in the compound.

Minho reunited with the two of them, the three of them sharing a relieving hug. “Minho!” Thomas beamed.

You followed soon behind, seeing Minho embraced in a hug.

Thomas saw you and raised his weapon instinctively, and in the chaos, a shot rang out. Pain seared through your leg, and you crumpled to the ground.

“Y/N!” Minho shouted, dropping to his knees beside you. He turned to Thomas, “She’s with us again! She helped me escape.”

Thomas lowered his weapon, guilt washing over his face. “Sorry Y/N,” he stammered, his eyes regretful, “I didn’t know…it’s good, good to have you back with us.” He affirmed.

Minho carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you into his chest. “We’ve got to get out of here. She’s hurt.”

They moved quickly, Minho carrying you bridal style as you navigated through the compound. You clung to him, breaths shallowed and pained. The warmth of his body was comforting and reassuring against you.

“Hang on,” he whispered, “We’re almost there.”

When the four of you finally burst out the building, the cool night air hit you like a wave. You stumbled into the open, the dark sky stretching above you lot.

“You did it,” you murmured, a weak smile tugging at your lips, you had lost a lot of blood in your leg. “We did it.”

Minho held you tighter, his face close to yours. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, “We’re going to be okay.”

Thomas and Newt followed closely behind, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. They had all made it out, but your injury weighed heavily on them.

“We need to get her to safety,” Thomas said, his voice urgent, “I’ll get Brenda and the others to come to us.”

Minho nodded, his grip on you unwavering. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He promised.

As you moved away from the compound, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Despite the pain, despite the uncertainty of your future, you knew you were where you needed to be—by Minho’s side, fighting for a better tomorrow. Together, you would face whatever came next, your hearts united in your quests for freedom and redemption.

62 notes · View notes

thatshappinessforme · 4 months

Text

When We Are Together - Pt. 1 (?)

omg...hi. i'm really here rn. posting this. at nearly 4 am on a monday morning. im nervous. i could vomit. so...this has been in my head for forever. literally. the idea is massive. it extends so far. it's seriously a whole universe in my little brain. it took so long to get the basis of this all out on paper, but, i'm hoping this is a series...a long one. the title isn't going to make much sense right now, but i pinky swear we'll get there eventually. so...without further ado...here she is...(EEK!) (also i have no idea how to set this post up so bear with me lol)

so i guess i just lost my fanfic writing vcard💌

_____________________________________________

word count: 2.4k

cw: just a little swearing, maybe a bit of bad writing, also maybe typos?? might be a little boring because it’s mostly to just like set the scene idk? (eventually the plan is to have a lil smut or smth but this really is just an intro lol)

_____________________________________________

The day starts as usual. You wake up to the sound of your alarm and your roommate’s hair dryer blaring through the thin walls of your Brooklyn walk-up. With a groan, you peel yourself out of the warmth of your bed, go to your desk, and open your laptop, holding onto a shred of delusional hope that one of your classes might be canceled for today; they rarely are…but you can’t blame a girl for being an optimist.

You scroll through your inbox, refreshing, and refreshing – you really don’t want to go to class today. Blame the essay you’d procrastinated that you’d spent all of last night speed-writing. Blame senioritis. Blame the unpaid music publicity internship that you’d been letting eat up your time in hopes of scoring a good job. Blame the frigid snow and ice that seem to be taunting you from outside your window. But, luckily it’s a Friday.

You refresh your inbox one last time, just for good measure. And, something actually comes in. But, it’s not from one of your professors. It’s from some company named “Dirty Hit.”

You raise an eyebrow and open the email, thinking it must be something related to one of the countless jobs you’ve applied for in the last few weeks, preparing for graduation at the end of the semester.

Y/N,

I’m a representative with one of our bands here at Dirty Hit. We’re really impressed with your work and have an opportunity we’d love to discuss with you, if you have a free moment this week at some point. Are you based out of New York? Get back to us when you can. We’re looking forward to hearing from you.

Best,

The Dirty Hit Team

“That’s weird,” you whisper to yourself, reading the short, ominous email over and over again. It’s not everyday that a label reaches out to a random college student to work with them. You’re not really sure what they could possibly be impressed with. You’ve just done minor PR internship work with underground bands from the east coast – that’s not exactly impressive. It sure as hell doesn’t warrant an email.

“Y/N?,” you hear one of your roommates and best friend, Vivian, call from outside your door before walking in, not bothering to knock. The two of you are close, almost like sisters at this point. In some ways, you’re exactly the same person, but in others your polar opposites. She’s a little bit more outgoing than you are, but she always helps to get you out of your shell. “Do you think I can get this guy I’m talking to into the venue tomorrow night? It’s just at The Soundwave, right?,” she asks, plopping down on the corner of your bed.

Shit. You completely forgot you signed up for an open mic tonight. You’d been playing your songs at small bars in Brooklyn and Manhattan for the past year or so. Songwriting had always been a bit of a hobby for you. So when you’re a broke college student in one of the most expensive cities in the world, you just find tricks to get you and your friends to do fun things for free. You’d learned a while back that performing at open mics usually meant you and your friends could get into bars and clubs without having to pay a cover, so you’d been spending your weekends doing that for a while. It’s all for fun. Sure, you like performing and put a lot into your songwriting, but pursuing it isn’t even quite a dream for you. You have an impending college degree you’ve worked your ass off for. In every sense of the word, music was a hobby for you.

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem. He might have to pay the cover, but it’s not like it’s the sort of thing where people buy tickets. You know the drill. But, obviously you’re my plus one, so no cover for you,” you nod, still staring at your laptop screen.

“What are you staring at, over there? Everything okay?,” she asks, getting up and moving to stand over your shoulder at your desk. You move your head a little so she can get a good look at the words on your screen. You watch her face as she reads the email, her lips dancing on each of the syllables as you watch her process it. “Dirty Hit? What the hell is that? Sounds like a porn company. Impressed with your work? Do you have a booming, secret OnlyFans I’m unaware of?,” she jokes.

I laugh and playfully nudge her arm. “No, no,” you giggle, “It’s a record label, I think. I’ve heard the name thrown around a few times at my internship. I think they’re kinda big.” You tab over and do a quick Google search. Immediately, a sea of popular artists and bands pop up under the label.

“Holy shit. Beabadoobee? Bleachers? The 19 fucking 75? I have their fuckin’ poster on my wall. They’re cool as shit,” she reads over your shoulder. “I mean, I have no idea what they could possibly want from me. My resumè isn’t all that impressive. Sure, I’m planning on going into music PR, but there’s no reason why I would stand out against someone who has like…an actual career under their belt,” you ramble, trying to make sense of the 67 words in haunting your inbox.

There’s a long pause, both of you trying aimlessly to make sense of the email. “Well, you’re gonna email them back, right?,” she eventually asks. You take breath, starting a reply to the email, leaving your cell phone number.

You try to focus on anything other than waiting for a reply. You do your best not to let your mind wander into the what-ifs, but as soon as you get done with your lectures for the day, you check your phone for any response.

Y/N,

Thanks for getting back to us so quickly. The band and management is also in New York for the next few months for a project. We would give you more information over email, but much of the matter is highly confidential. We have a studio space at Electric Lady in Greenwich Village that we could meet at, if that works for you. I know it is rather short notice, but could you meet this evening at some point? Let us know.

Best,

The Dirty Hit Team

You quickly reply to the email on your walk back from campus, confirming the meeting for later this evening. You get back to your apartment and practically tear apart your closet trying to figure out what the hell to wear. You know it’s a business meeting, but it’s also for some mystery band. You don’t want to dress unprofessionally, but you also don’t want to seem uptight. You decide on a black mini skirt with tights and a chunky black turtleneck sweater. You finish primping and step into Vivian’s room, practically out of breath from all the outfits you’ve tried on and scrapped.

“Okay, if you were a band looking for…a PR representative…? Would you hire me?,” you ask her, standing in front of her bed as she looks up from her phone. She looks you up and down and grins, “Of course I would, Y/N. You look great,” she reassures you, sensing you’re anxious, “So, you really think this is just a PR gig?”

“I mean, yeah. What else could it possibly be? It couldn’t be my music. I’m not even on any streaming platforms; I don’t promote it at all,” you say with certainty. She shrugs and smiles, before wishing you the best of luck as you head out the door.

You get on the subway and head to Electric Lady. The train has always been one of your favorite parts about living in New York for college. Putting your pink headphones on, looking out the window into the catacombs that stretch throughout the city, people watching. It’s where you did your best thinking.

You get off the train and walk through the streets, your headphones on and your music blasting, only interrupted occasionally by Google Maps telling you where to turn and such. Eventually the robotic voice in your ear says “Arrived” and you look over your right shoulder…here it is. You're right on time. You go to open the doors, pushing on them gently; must still be locked. You sigh, assuming that its to be expected. That this is simply upholding a prophecy of some sort that the band and music-industry-folk run behind…until you hear a laugh.

“It’s a pull,” you hear a man’s voice call out with a slight chuckle. From just those three words, you’ve determined that he has one of the thickest English accents you’d ever heard. You look over your left shoulder and see a man leaning up against the wall of the studio smoking a cigarette. “What?,” you ask, confused as you look over to him. He has a hood on and you can’t make out his face, or what he was trying to tell you. “The doors. It says right on them. ‘PULL,’” he chuckles, tossing his cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his Adidas sneaker, walking over to you. “Oh, um, thanks, I’m an idiot. I almost gave up,” you chuckle, pulling the door open this time. The man follows you into the studio, holding the door open once you tug on it. You look back over your shoulder to thank him for holding the door, the first time he’s been close enough for you to make out his face; Christ, it’s Matty Healy.

“I know who you are,” he says to you with a cheeky grin as he starts walking into the back of the studio. You just stand there near the doorway, the gust of cigarette-scented, cold January air lingering around you. You’re perplexed, to say the least. He keeps walking down the hall before finally turning over his shoulder, “You’re just gonna stand there? You have a meeting. Wouldn’t be very professional of you to stand us up,” he teases dryly. You blink a few times before nodding, following him, still in a bit of disbelief that this was the band that had some sort of ‘interest’ in you.

He shows you into a studio in the back. Once he opens the door, there are four other men sitting there, three that you also recognize from your roommate’s wall. The other, a bit older, more professional looking.

“Y/N! I’m Jamie, I manage these blokes. Thank you so much for agreeing to come meet with us today. I know everything was rather vague on the emails, but…we had to keep it that way. But, now that you’re here, let's talk, yeah? Are you familiar with The 1975?,” the older man asks you, in a super friendly manner as you sit down on a plush chair in the corner of the room. Every eye in the room is glued to you. The air is almost sticky with anticipation. You take a deep breath and try to slap on the most composed, thoughtful, professional smile you can manage.

“Um, yes! Of course,” you nod, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, “I’m actually a fan of you all. Really, I listen to your stuff with my friends – you’re fantastic.”

“Good, good. We’re glad to hear it,” he grins, looking around at the boys who also all look to be pleased. Even though everyone’s eyes are on you, you feel Matty's specifically, practically burning a hole in the side of your head as he stands, still leaning in the doorway.

“We’re impressed with you, Y/N. So, I’m just going to get on with it. George went to a little bar in Bushwick last month and sent us a video he took of you singing one of your originals…you’re bloody fantastic. We’re going on tour this summer. We want to do something a little different this time with our opener. We want to build someone from the ground up. You’re it. We want you. What do you say? You interested?,” he explains with a wide grin, his tone casual like he didn’t just tell you the craziest shit you’ve ever heard.

Jamie’s words hit you in slow motion. You look around the room, the air moving from feeling sticky to feeling ice cold, jolting you awake. “I’m sorry…what the actual fuck did you just say?,” you blurt out blankly, any ounce of composure you may have had completely gone.

You immediately catch yourself, your language, your lack of professionalism, though, “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I…that just came out of my mouth…I-,” your face goes bright red as you desperately try to correct yourself.

The room erupts in laughter, the men you recognize from Viv’s poster nearly barreling over off the sofa. Jamie’s jaw on the floor as he howls, slapping the table in front of him. You look over your shoulder to see that Matty’s still in the doorway, and he’s just standing there with his arms crossed, shaking his head at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, I think we’re gonna get along quite well with this one,” he remarks, licking his lips, weirdly impressed with your mispeakings.

You can’t help but sigh softly and shake your own head when he looks at you like that; something in you shifting as if he’s the only person in the room; as if he was the only person who'd ever laid eyes on you; as if he was the only person ever. As if, the offer you got just moments before wasn’t the most absurd thing that had ever happened to you. As if you didn’t need to thoroughly think this all over. As if you could make the decision right now.

You look back over to Jamie, who’s still chuckling. Before you can give yourself the time to overthink, you swing one of your legs over the other, lean back into the chair and smirk, “Jamie, where the hell do I sign?”

…and this is how it starts.

#matty healy #the 1975 #mattyhealy #still at their very best #the1975 #bfiafl #satvb #matty x reader #fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #writer #fanfiction

55 notes · View notes

mxqdii · 1 year

Text

you taught me - r.b

pairings: regulus black x reader

summary: her last relationship was so toxic that it effects her relationship with regulus. he teaches her what it's like to actually loved and cared for.

warning(s): mentions of abuse, mentions of toxic relationship, sad reader, fluff/comfort from regulus, slight panic attack.

not proofread

it's a typical day, i head to the library to find a good book.

as i walk in, i see regulus and a smile hits my face, we've been dating for a while now. it's still a secret, only evan and barty know, but we’re gonna tell others eventually.

i look around, seeing the empty library and hugging regulus from behind

"hi regs!" i smile and he turns around, eyebrow raised

"regs?" he questions with a teasing smile and my face drops

"sorry! i didn't even know i said that, i can stop if you want it was an accident i swear!" i ramble on and his expression changes again

he looks at me now in confusion

"what..?" i ask quietly

"i was joking love, it's okay." he says and i raise my eyebrows

"oh.. okay.." i noted with a smile

---

later that evening, me and regulus are still in the library, my legs over his as we sit on the couch.

a book in my hand as i flip the pages

my eyes light up as i read about it and regulus notices

"what's got you so happy?" he says and i smile, looking at him

"well, i've actually read this book like 10 times.. i just, i've always really really loved it, like so much. anyways its about thsi girl named lydia and she has like, nobody- anyways she moves to this new town and finds this boy- anyways! sorry i could talk about it for like hours, but i wont" i ramble on

his eyes watch me in astonishment while i talk, listening intently.

and even though he doesn’t know what i'm talking about, he doesn't care. he likes seeing the ways my eyes light up when im talking about something i'm passionate about

he likes seeing my cheeky smile when i'm explaining the characters

"keep talking, i'm listening" he says and i go wide eyed

nobody has ever said that to me before.

i almost feel tears fill my eyes as i look down and let out a smile, this feeling is so unfamiliar.

---

i'm sitting in my room distancing myself from my boyfriend, my friends, everyone.

i miss regulus, which is exactly why im distancing myself

sounds stupid, but i'd feel bad bothering him by asking to hangout, so i'm in here instead.

i could hangout with sirius, remus and james... but i'm just not up to it right now

suddenly theres a knock on the door

i open it seeing regulus, letting out a sigh of relief and gesturing him in.

"hey, where've you been all day, i haven't seen you at all" he says and i feel the guilt wash over me

"i know i'm really sorry i just felt... bad" i say, sitting on my bed

"about what my love?" he asks, sitting next to me.

"no it's nothing it's fine" i say smiling and he shakes his head

"tell me" he speaks softly and i melt at the tone

"i don't know i just missed you but i didn't wanna bother you so i came here instead, i don't know it's stupid i'm sorry" i say, avoiding eye contact the whole time

"what? baby you could've just asked to hangout i was free all day" he says with a sad chuckle

"oh.. sorry" i mumble

he moves closer to me tucking my hair behind my ear

regulus was never usually a soft person, but something about me made him melt, he'd never admit that though.

something about how gentle and fragile i was made him feel the need to be the most loving person i could have

and he knew something had happened, the way i always apologized and second guessed my words, the way i was careful around him, the way i put him before myself

i didn't need to act that way around him though, but he didn't know how to tell me that, so instead he just decided to show me, as much as he could.

without saying anything, he pulled me into a loving hug, a hug i've never gotten before

i let myself melt into his warmth, feeling nothing but comfort in this moment.

---

me regulus were told to meet sirius, remus and james in the gryffindor common room, which isn't unusual considering we all hangout all the time.

we walk in to be met with uncomfortable tension and silence

"jesus who pissed us off" i say sarcastically and they stay quiet

"come on guys, what?" regulus says

"tell me y/n, how long have you been fucking my brother" sirius shouts and my eyes widen

"sirius-" i try to explain but he doesn't let me

"i mean really? my brother? that's low y/n" he says and i feel my chest tighten at the yelling

"and you!- one of my best friends? really??" sirius says, speaking to regulus now.

"sirius it's not like that" i say, still in my normal tone.

"like hell it is!" he argued

"you don''t understand- we're-" before finishing my sentence, sirius interrupts again

"you're what? in love? i don't care what you are, i care about you two not fucking telling me. i had to find out through some random ravenclaw! and to top it off it's my brother and my best friend, yet i wasn't the first to know??? unbelievable." he shouts

i don't even notice the way i'm shaking, the way it's become hard to breathe.

i feel so aware of everything, just not myself.

"sirius-" remus trys to interrupt to stop him

"sirius stop" regulus shouts

they continue yelling at eachother until sirius walks towards me

i tense my body, preparing for something i know all too well.

"i expected more from you y/n, i would've expected you to tell me about this shit" he argues, his voice still raised and his tone still bitter

"sirius- calm down" i say, not knowing what else to do

"calm down!?" he shouts, raising his hands in exasperation

his hands, his voice, his tone.

it was too familiar, so i did what i know

i used my hands to protect myself, covering my face.

i fucking flinched.

the room falls silent, not a single whisper, even from sirius.

still in my hiding position, i realize what i just did, how i just reacted, i know sirius would never hit me.

fuck, i messed up.

my hands lower from my face and i slowly turn my head towards sirius, scared to see his reaction

i look up at him, tears overflowing in my eyes

i see his softened expression, the look in his eyes, the way he immediately stopped

"did- did you think i was gonna.. hit you?" he hesitates, asking gently, softly.

i look around, seeing everyone looking at me

it's the look on regulus's face that makes me crack.

i look back at sirius and just scoff, running out of the common room and to my dorm.

i lock the door and absolutely break down sobbing, finding it hard to breathe.

i'm curled up on the floor, arms wrapped around my knees, hiding my face in them.

suddenly i feel hands on me, gasping at the sudden touch, i look up seeing regulus's soft gaze on me.

"hey, hey, it's me you're okay, i'm here love" he says wrapping me into a hug.

he pulls me on his lap and i wrap my legs around his waist, causing him to stand up and sit us down on my bed

(sorry if that didn't make sense)

i nuzzle my head into his neck as he rubs my back

"let it out love, i'm here." he says and i try to find the words to speak.

i pull away from the hug slightly and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear

"i- he-" i try to explain but my words are being taken from me, like i'm being forbidded

"i know love, it's okay, i've got you."

my words being taken from me frustrates me even more, causing me to just lean into him and continue sobbing

he embraces me again, stroking my hair and whispering reassuring sweet nothings into my ear.

because of him, my sobs slowly turn into cries, and my cries slowly turn into sniffing and tears running down my face.

it was a start.

i pull away from our embrace again, scared to speak

i can't look at him, i know if i do i might break, so i keep my gaze shifted on my fingers, picking the skin off of them, a nervous habit.

he grabs my hands to stop me from picking them

"you don't have to say anything or just in general talk about it, not if you don't want to" he says and i sigh

"you have a right to know" i say shakily.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks and i hesitate

"i- i'm a mess" i sniffle, embarrassed.

his finger trails up to my chin, using it to tilt my head up.

the sight of my tear stained cheeks and red puffy nose breaks his heart

his eye contact, the look on his face, made me break, as i suspected

i tilt my head back down, letting out silent cries

"tu es en sécurité avec moi, je ne laisserai rien t'arriver" he says

even though i can't understand it, just the sound of his voice makes me feel better.

he uses his hands to cup my cheeks, making me look up again

he uses his thumb to wipe my tears

something that makes my heart swell, something i'm not used to

i watch him, no sign of disgust or shame on his face, just love, pure love.

"why?" i ask, him shifting his gaze back to my eyes.

"why what?" he replies

"why do you do this for me? why are you so nice to me?"

his heart shatters into a million pieces, expression softening even more

if that's even possible

"because i love you, and you deserve to be loved. i wish you could see that" he says

"i didn't and still don't wanna push you, but i notice things, i'm an observer. i notice your apologies and how you always seem scared around me, not scared of me, scared of yourself and what you might say, what i might do to you if you say the wrong thing" he starts to speak

i look down again as he continues to talk

"i just want you to know that i'd never do anything to hurt you, ever. you'll always be safe with me, no matter what you've heard before. i'd die before hurting you, and it breaks me to see you like this love" he says and another tear falls down my cheek

"i said it before, you have a right to know." i say with a shaky breath

"my last relationship.. it- it changed me. the guy i dated, he would use me and manipulate me and treated me more as his bitch then his girlfriend. he would- get really mad if i said or did something wrong, something he didn't like or something that embarrassed him. and sometimes when things got heated... he'd.. hit me and stuff.. and i knew it was wrong but it's what he made me think i deserved. so ever since then i've always felt like that's what i deserve, which is why i don't really know why you treat me the way you do, it's just very unfamiliar." i explain

he watches me, listening intently the whole time.

"i don't think i know what love is.." i mumble, ashamed.

"i didn't, for a long time. but eventually.. someone taught me."

he says and i look up at him confused

he smiles, rolling his eyes when i don't get the hint

"you, y/n, you taught me love." he says and my eyes widen

"me? i- i don't even know how to love someone i-" i start speaking but he stops me

"it's what you're doing, what you've been doing, you just never realized it. this whole time you've shown me love, it was unfamiliar because it was new. that unfamiliar feeling you've felt around me, it's love" he says

i take a second to think about his words.

thinking back to the feeling in my stomach when he'd talk to me, the way my heart fluttered when we'd hold hands, the way i longed for him when he wasn't around.

holy shit, i love regulus black.

"you- you're right" i say, realization clear in my tone

"i- i think i love you" i say, looking up at him

he smiles "i love you too darling, always have"

in that moment i knew i'd be alright, i knew i could give regulus my heart and trust him not to break it.

in that moment i knew, he taught me how to love.

TAGLIST:

@stargirlv0id @strniolo @annaisabookworm

274 notes · View notes

milesandcorysupermacy · 6 months

Note

can you do a fic we’re y/n is miles(doesn’t matter which one) little sister who can lowkey sing but denies it

HEEEEEY, POOKIE! So ik I took long to answer ur request but u inspired me to write again because I can actually relate to this 😭

---------------x-o-x-o--------------------------

"Mariposa"

1610!Miles x Younger-SISTER-Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Cursing, Reader is 13, Miles is 15, Me not knowing anthing about the music industry, Not spell checked bc im lazy, Reader recorded without her consent (it'll make sense, I promise 😭)

Songs that were used: 'In Your Hands' By Halle, and 'Hailey's Comet' By Billie Eilish

Summary: You've always thought you could sing well, but you never considered it was exceptionally well. When you're confronted with other people's opinions on your singing, you start to change your mind. Can you really sing?

Taglist:

@we-loveebony

@im-miss-simp

@ilovespiderverseee

@maxoloqy

@edgyficuselastica

@thehighlordishere

---------------------x-o-x-o---------------------

You walked into your kitchen, humming the soft melodies of the Billie Eilish song playing in your shared airpod with your older brother, Miles.

"Hey, you wanna order tacos? Your treat, by the way."

You turn to him, confused from this comment since he usually pays. You hate to admit anything nice about him, but one thing you can say is...he's a gentleman.

"Why am I paying?"

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe this will jog your memory."

Your over-dramatic sibling says as he points to a scar on his left cheek. You sheepishly chuckle as you scratch the back of your neck, embarrassed. The scar he's referring to is from two days ago when you threw scissors at him.

"Oh, right. In my defense, I thought your spidey senses would make you catch it."

Miles gasped.

"HOW?!?!!? I was holding sketches! If you thought I would drop my precious babies for some scissors...you clearly don't know me, mother's other child."

He said, not referring to you by name anymore. You rolled your eyes as you threatened him with the worst thing of all...no food.

"Well, if you're not even referring to me by name anymore, I guess you don't want any tacos!"

Miles immediately frowned, gasping from your threat.

"No! I love you my most beautiful, sweet, elegant sister! I still want the tacos! Make mine carne asada, please!"

You rolled your eyes at his willingness to switch up so easily. You sighed, opening your Uber Eats app to find the closest taco place.

"What a drag to love you like I do, ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh"

You sang quietly along to the infectious melodies of Billie Eilish's 'Hailey's Comet'. Miles just stared at you, stunned. He's never heard you sing unless you were joking around, but right now he could've sworn you were a Grammy-nominated artist. He let this keep going on until the song ended, still staring at you while you absent-mindedly look into your phone. Not noticing him staring daggers into the side of your face.

"Ok, I placed the orde-"

"You sounded really good just now, why didn't you tell anyone you could sing like that?"

You stared at him bug-eyed, not knowing how to respond to all this sudden attention on you. Being the younger sister of Miles Morales, you just kinda got used to flying under his radar. I mean, he's a *almost* Straight A student, exceptionally good at art, a superhero, and he's in one of the most prestigious schools in Brooklyn. How could you even compete with that?

You're just a 13 year old girl who passes all her classes to keep her and her parents sane, and pretty much nothing after that. You acknowledged this hidden talent, but immediately compared yourself to other singers and realized that you would get crushed in that audition room. You weren't some Beyonce waiting to happen, you were just a girl. A girl who has absolutely no idea what she's doing.

"Why? What do you mean why, Miles? Have you heard all the other singers out there? Dude, I would get fucking crushed the moment I let out the first note. Not just that, but you're so obviously mom and dad's favorite. I mean, every time I come home with a B I feel like an idiot compared to you. You're just better than me, and everyone knows it. I fly under your radar, Miles. Every time that you, mom, or dad introduce me to somebody, you guys always say Miles' little sister. Face it, dude. I can't compare to you."

Miles felt his heart shatter hearing your words. As a big brother, his job was to protect you. How could he do that when he was causing the problem himself? He never looked down on you, he was proud to have you as a sister and he couldn't believe that you felt this way about yourself. What made it even worse was the fact that you started crying, he immediately sprung into action when he saw the tears falling. He engulfed you in a hug, feeling extremely guilty.

"I'm so sorry, Mariposa. I never even realized that the family was downplaying you like this, you're incredible and deserve to be seen as such."

You felt a smirk coming onto your lips from the nickname that he called you, referring to your Halloween costume from 10 years ago. Small moments like this made you realize that you had a brother who loved you, and would talk to you about anything. That's all that matters, right? You and him against the world...well, maybe just him. (Give the man credit, he's literally spiderman.)

"It's fine, I'm sorry to drop all of this on you. I feel like I kinda overreacted."

You awkwardly chuckled as Miles look at you like you were a woman gone mad.

"Why are you sorry? I'm glad you brung it up, now I can be more aware whenever I see it happen again. The fact that you feel like you're always under my radar is even more of a reason to get yourself out there! Who knows, I mean maybe Mami and Dad could hire you a manager. We're in New York, this IS industry city."

You thought about the idea for a second and honestly, it sounded great at first. Then you started to realize that you were 13, about to graduate 8th grade, and have no experience in vocal training. The once great idea started to sound like a complete fail.

"While I appreciate your excitement, Miles. I'm barely a high schooler, and have no experience. If I were to make it in the industry, it be pure luck!"

You waved him off as he was walking around you in a circle, spewing ideas. Starting to become annoyed with how invested he truly is in your life, a blessing and a curse.

"Well maybe if we go to the mall and-"

"What? No, that's so idiotic."

"Well, if you can open for an artist's tour-"

"How am I gonna do that with my middle class, Afro-Hispanic family in Brooklyn, New York?"

"Well, I got a few piggy bank-"

Miles was thankfully interrupted by a notification from your phone saying that the tacos were downstairs at the front desk.

"Thank fuck."

You whispered as the notification saved you from hearing any more of Miles' idiotic ideas.

"Miles, you mind going to get it?"

"Yea, just gimme a sec."

He says as he puts his shoes on, but that's really just a cover for his plan. He decided to play one of your favorite songs right now, 'In Your Hands'. He did this since he knew you wouldn't be able to resist singing it, especially since nobody else is around. While he's downstairs, he left his phone recording in the apartment so that he could catch your angelic voice and show it to his parents. Great plan....well, at least he hopes so.

~Timeskip~

While you and Miles play Wii Bowling on the living room TV, (you were beating his ass btw) your parents walk in. You both greet them and help with groceries, you then decide that you wanted to take a shower and exit the room. This gives Miles time to execute his plan!

(We're gonna pan over to Miles' scene bc I'm not. writing about you taking a boring ass shower.)

"Ok, we have like 40 mins until she's done with her nightly routine."

Miles says very suspiciously which causes his parents to feel concerned about him.

"Miles, buddy. You alright? I hope you're not sick or anything."

Jeff says as he cautiously touches Miles' forehead. His mother begins to chime in with the concern too.

"Yeah, you do look kinda pale."

Rio says, also touching the poor boy's face.

"He does, doesn't he? I'm glad I wasn't the only one noticing-"

"I'm not pale, I'm very pigmented!"

Miles whisper shouts. His parents back off with their hands up in a surrendering motion.

"Anyway, I wanted to show you guys a video of Y/N that I took. I know it sounds weird, but it's a video of her singing. It sounds really nice and I want her to have a talent of her own since everyone compares us."

His parents smile with approval and appreciation of how nice your brother was being towards you right now.

"Well, show us whatcha got!"

Rio says, enthusiastically. Miles opens his camera app and plays the video, immediately smiling at your perfect voice as you sing the melodic notes of the song.

"In your Hands, in your hands.

You can't let go or you'll lose your chance.

'Cause after me, you'll never fall in love again, la-la-la."

You melodically sung along to the song ans your parents stared at the phone with shock. They listened to the whole 3 minute video and smiled the whole way through, stunned by your almost perfect vocals.

"Wow...I can't believe that's my baby girl singing!"

Rio said, bewildered.

After some time, you finally walk out the bathroom with your pajamas and a towel on your head. Your family just stared at you with shock as you walked toward the kitchen for water.

"What? Am I not supposed to drink this water or something?"

"Girl, where'd you learn to sing like that?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at your dad, believing he's truly lost it this time.

"What are you talking about?"

Miles smiled cheekily at you as he played the video of your singing. You immediately grew embarrassed as you felt your face heat up and eyes widen.

"Miles, I'll kill you!"

You shouted as you charged towards your older brother who hid behind his mom.

"Baby, this is great! We signed you up for vocal lessons and even got you a meeting with a manager tomorrow, that's...if you say yes, of course."

Your mom trailed off.

"You better say yes, this stuff wasn't cheap!"

Jeff complained as your mom shot him a glare.

"Fine, I'll do it."

You said as you smiled from your families interest in you and your interests. You and your family conversed on some logistics and commitments that you will have to make for this newfound hobby. With that, there was just one more question to ask...

"So, what will your artist name be? We need a name to put on the email to the record label."

You looked up at your older brother and smiled before saying...

"Mariposa."

-------------------☆-☆-☆-☆-------------------

THIS IS ITTT 🤑🤑

The first post after my lil hiatus 🤧

Anyway, I hope yall liked it and thanks to the anon who sent this, ima answer the other request I got too!

💞💞

#miles morales #across the spiderverse #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles morales #miles morales fluff #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x sister!reader #miles x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #singer #women in music

45 notes · View notes

beccalovesyu · 4 months

Text

Hooked on a feeling

Pt.1

Pairing: fem! Reader x Hook/ Tyler

Warnings: None really a little bit of swearing and arguing and any grammar mistakes I made

Genre: Angst and a little fluff

masterlist

< yes im doing a pt. 2 >

( not my gifs )

~• this is my first fic so pls read the notes at the end :) •~

Backstory: You and Tyler didn’t really talk much. You worked at the same place but never really clicked. It seemed he was always wrestling, eating, or at a club bringing girls to his hotel room.

It was a rainy day. Dynamite started in a hour. You were getting ready when Dante texted you and asked if you wanted to go to a bar after the show.

< Dante 🍃 …

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dante🍃: “ hey y/n do u wanna go to a bar after the show today? “

Y/n: “ ofc! what time? “

Dante🍃: “ how about 10:30? I’ll pick you up at your hotel “

Y/n: “ that sounds great! I’ll be ready and waiting! “

➕ ( | 🎤 )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

q w e r t y u i o p

a s d f g h j k l

⬆️ z x c v b n m ⬅️

123 | Space | return

😀 🎤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •~

At the show :

U were in the Gloria waiting for your music to hit you were going to face Anna Jay. Your music hit and you were pumped. You went out and had fun. Anna was a good friend of yours so when your match got announced you were excited. You hit Anna with a code red and then your finisher the moon salt. You pinned Anna 1… 2… 3… you beat Anna.

After the match you shook Anna’s hand as a sign of respect. Both of you went back stage after your match and were talking when she asked if you hand any plans.

Anna: “ you have any plans tonight? “

Y/n: “ yeah im going to a bar with Dante “

Anna: “ like a date? “

Y/n: “ Anna he’s like a brother to me we’re just hanging out “

Anna: “ Alright but let me know if anything happens “

You laughed a bit. You and Anna went to the viewing room. Usually after one of your matches or a promo you watched the show together. You guys kinda just talked most of the time. Not really watching the show it was more of a catch up. When you guys went to the viewing room you seen whose match it was. It was Tyler’s match. You never really talked but had a few conversations here and there. You thought he was cute obviously but the lack of expression on his face and lack of speech never really gave you any signals so you assumed that he wouldn’t really go for you. His music hit and your eyes were glued to the screen. Anna tried to talk to you but usually got a yeah or ok or sometimes a that sounds good but you weren’t really listening. You were watching Him. Anna picked up after a bit and teased you.

Anna: “ hey y/n you like your boyfriend’s match so far? “

Y/n: “ yeah, huh? wait what? “

You payed attention real quick. Anna laughed at you.

Anna: “ you so think Ty is cute “

Y/n: “ do not “

Anna: “ you so do I can tell “

Y/n: “ sure Anna “

Anna: “ is it just you and Dante going to the bar? “

Y/n: “ im not sure but I guess I’ll find out “

Anna: “ let me know what happens at the bar with Him if he goes “

He’s not going. Right? That got you thinking what if he did come? How would you talk to Him? It always seems like you talk and he never listens he doesn’t really talk to you. Anna said she would help you get ready. Of course you said yes. Anna helped you do your makeup and gave you some clothes. You wore ripped jeans and a Red Lacey top. You waited outside of your hotel waiting for Dante. You waited for about 15 minutes. It wasn’t Dante’s fault you were early. But it was cold and you didn’t have a jacket. You were shivering. you were freezing. Finally you seen Dante’s car and rushed over to it. When you got in the back seat someone was there to “ greet you “ it was Him. You were still cold and shivering. You said hi to Dante and hi to Ty but all he did was give you a death glare while eating his chips.

Y/n: “ alright then “

Tyler: “ you cold? “

Y/n: “ im fine “

Tyler: “ you want my hoodie? “

Y/n: “ I said I was fine “

Then he took off his hoodie and handed it to you.

Tyler: “ it’s to cold to be wearing that anyway “

Y/n: “ mhm thanks “

Tyler: “ yeah “

Your pov:

You put his hoodie on. You liked it but didn’t show it. The rest of the car ride was silent except for the chip bag that Tyler was eating out of. We got to the bar and we all walked in. Tyler already seen his hookup for the night. You seen his eyes go to her. You were a little jealous but that didn’t stop you from having a good time. The bar tender was pretty cute but not Tyler cute. You still thought you would at least try. At least he actually talked to you and actually listened to what you had to say. You looked over at Tyler who looked to be giving you a death glare. Or maybe it was The bartender? Probably both of us.

His pov:

I seen a girl when I walked in. I knew her from somewhere. It turned out she went to my high school. I walked over to her to catch up. We haven’t talked in ages. After I was done talking to her I walked back over to Dante. I started talking to him but I seen Her Y/n she was flirting with The bartender. It seemed like she always was upset or had an attitude when she tried to talk to me. I wanted to talk to Her but I never knew what to say. Dante kept trying to talk to me.

Dante: “ but then I was like.. hey man you Ok? “

Tyler: “ im fine “

Dante: “ your death starring y/n and the bartender “

Tyler: “ im not “

Dante: “ I can tell you’re on edge “

Tyler: “ it’s nothing “

Dante: “ listen I see the way she looks at you she so likes you don’t worry dude “

Tyler: “ whatever Dante “

I zoned out looking at them when she started waking towards me.

Your pov:

I was sick of Him looking at me like that. I walked up to Him and asked what his problem was.

Y/n: “ what’s your problem? “

Tyler: “ nothing your just basically giving The bartender a lap dance “

Y/n: “ why do you care don’t you have a whore to fuck? “

Tyler: “ do you think that’s all I do? “

Y/n: “ it is all you do. You don’t even talk when someone talks to you you just say your listening when your not. “

Tyler: “ well it’s hard to talk to someone with a constant attitude “

Y/n: “ it’s hard to talk to somebody with no emotion. “

Tyler: “ I have emotions im still a human y/n “

Y/n: “ it doesn’t seem like it you don’t even look for a relationship you just fuck people like your collecting cards. “

Tyler: “ collecting cards? “

Y/n: “ yes, and when someone try’s to talk to you, you just sit there and don’t even pay attention. “

Tyler: “ I do pay attention. I pay more attention then you think “

Y/n: “ more attention to hookups “

Tyler: “ I hear more then you think y/n “

Y/n: “ what do you hear other then girls moaning in your ear? “

Tyler: “ no I hear you say im a piece of shit because I don’t listen to anything. When you were upset about losing your title I listened. When you were talking about your new gear you were excited for I listened. When you were talking about how excited you were about your match with Anna I listened. I hear a lot. “

Y/n: “ im sorry I didn’t know you actually heard me. “

Tyler: “ who wouldn’t listen to you “

You heard Him say it he listened to you. You felt so bad about all the times you left the conversation because you didn’t think he heard you, or the times you talked to the girls in catering about it always seems like a one sided conversation, or that he didn’t listen and all he cared about were hookups. You didn’t know how to make it up to Him.

Hey this is my first fic so sorry if it’s not perfect I did try to proof read and I even got a friends opinion I was debating on not posting this and giving up but with a lot of motivation from my friends Abby and Kinsey I actually did post it Lmk if I should fix anything or any tips about writing TYSM FOR READING 🫶

#aew #spotify #first fic #hook nation rise #hook #hook aew #aew wrestling #aew fanfiction #aew fic #aew dynamite #aew hook #wrestling #dante martin #aew liveblog #anna jay #music #angst #fluff #Spotify

48 notes · View notes

badaswrld · 11 months

Text

hurts me too

❥ bada x reader

❥ heavy angst, hurt no comfort, depression, severe mental illness, cheating

🫧

“hey… hey y/n,” you hear while bada is shaking you awake.

“it’s 2 o’clock.” she says.

you sigh and rub your eyes.

“you have to stop staying up so late.”

all you do is nod. you can’t sleep anymore. you can barely do anything anymore. without bada, you wouldn’t eat, you wouldn’t shower, you wouldn’t leave the house.

she sighs in response. “i’m going to teach a class and then go out with friends after, i’ll be home later than normal.”

“ok.” you say, flatly.

she brings her hand to her face and rubs her eyes in frustration. she stands up and starts to leave the bedroom.

“love you,” you say, the sound of the door shutting as your response.

you knew it was getting hard for bada. she had to care for you almost 24/7 as well as herself.

you weren’t you anymore.

when it first started, bada was extremely attentive. she was constantly worried about you, doing everything she could for you, crying for you when she was alone.

as the time went on, she got tired of it, and you understood. you weren’t showing much improvement at all.

there were days when you could get yourself up and out of the house, but most of the time you laid in bed, eyes glued to the tv, ignoring everything around you.

you wanted to be better for her, because you felt her slowly drifting away.

flashback 🫧

“it’s been months, y/n!” bada shouted at you, standing over you while you sat on the couch.

“i just don’t know what to do anymore. i’m trying to help you but nothing has changed.”

you say nothing, just staring back at her with a dead gaze. you looked and felt like a living zombie.

“god, stop looking at me like that, i hate it.” she says, sitting down, holding her head in her hands.

after a couple minutes of silence, you manage to speak.

“i’m sorry…” you whisper, tears building in your eyes.

bada looks up at you then, her gaze immediately softening. you see guilt washing over her face.

she moves to hold you, wrapping her arms around her waist, resting her chin on your head.

“no, i’m sorry. that was mean.” she says, kissing your head.

“i need help.” you say, quietly.

she grabs your face softly. “we’re going to get you help, i promise baby.”

end of flashback 🕊

the therapy wasn’t enough. bada had dragged you out of the apartment twice a week for months now. you had showed a slight improvement, but you still weren’t able to take care of yourself.

you would do anything to feel better, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to fight.

flashback again 🌫

“i just don’t understand what’s going on!” bada yelled. another argument. this was becoming so normal for the both of you.

it was usually just bada yelling while you sat and took it.

“is it me? are you not happy with me?” she asks, her eyes starting to glass over.

you don’t respond.

“will you fucking answer me??” she shouts in frustration.

“i don’t know what’s wrong!!” you finally snap, yelling angrily.

she looks at you shocked, as this was the most emotion you have shown in a while.

“bada, the therapist said it was only a matter of time. we just have to wait, im trying.” you explain, agitated.

she stands up quickly, letting her anger take over.

“how much longer? can you tell me that? i can’t do this for much longer y/n, i mean it.” she says.

when you don’t say anything, she walks to start grabbing her stuff.

“bada, where are you going?” you ask.

“i can’t be here right now. i’ll be back later.” she says, flatly.

“wait, bada please-” you’re cut off by the sound of the door slamming shut.

end of flashback 🌊

you were trying so hard to be better, for yourself and for bada. you loved the days when you felt good, when you could appreciate the beauty of life. but they were few and far between.

at this point, bada only talked to you when she was bringing you food or helping you shower. she had almost completely given up.

you laid in the bed for the rest of the afternoon. it was 11 pm now, and you were hoping bada was having fun. hoping she was getting a break from the burden of yourself. you felt like a parasite latched on to her that just wouldn’t let go.

your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of bada entering the code to your shared apartment.

you sat up, excited to see her. you were in a rare mood where you felt like talking for once. you missed her comfort when she wasn’t there, even if you didn’t talk. she was your home through it all.

she entered the room with a distraught expression on her face, staring at you with guilt in her eyes.

“bada.. what?” you ask, concerned.

you see tears falling down her face.

“i did something bad,” she said, crying.

“god, i really fucked up, y/n,” she says, pacing around the room with her hands on her head.

you were sure it couldn’t be as bad as she was making it seem.

“ok, just tell me,” you say, eager to hear.

“i met a girl at the bar. we started talking and we were both drunk and i…. went back to her apartment.” she said, unable to look at you.

your face fell flat. “did you sleep with her, or just kiss her?” you asked, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it from her.

“…. i slept with her,” you hear her say through choked sobs. she’s looking at you now, reading your face for a reaction. her cheeks are flushed and her words are slurred, she’s still drunk.

you felt a thousand pounds of weight hit your chest all of a sudden.

she sits on the bed next to you, trying to grab your hand. you quickly move away from her touch.

“i can’t..” you say. she nods.

you both sit there for what feels like forever, crying together.

“i’m gonna throw up,” you say, standing up quickly and running to the bathroom.

you’re shaking and crying on the bathroom floor, waves of nausea hitting you heavily. you feel bada’s hands wrap around your hair, pulling it away from your face as you gag, but nothing comes out. you haven’t eaten all day.

you slump to the wall, pulling your knees to your chest. bada sits next to you, not knowing what to say or do.

after sitting with nothing but the sound of you both sobbing, you finally say something.

“ok.. we can.. fix this.. right?” you choke out, in between hiccups.

“y/n, i don’t think we can-”

“stop. you made the mistake. do you still love me?” you ask, angrily.

she hesitates, but responds. “yes y/n, of course i do.”

“ok, and i still love you. so we can fix this. i don’t care what you did.” you say.

“obviously you do care.”

“i do, but i can’t lose you like this.”

neither of you say anything, and you get up to move to the bed, your body feeling weak and sore all over.

bada follows you, looking at you to speak.

“why are you being like this?” she asks, genuinely confused.

“because i love you, i need you. i cant go on without you, bada,” you’re crying again at the thought of living without her.

“you deserve better than this, than me. i cant believe i did this to you,” she cries.

“shhhh. let’s not talk about it anymore. let’s just sleep.”

you pull her into you under the covers. she’s sobbing into your chest, and you feel weird. you’re the one comforting her this time, even though she hurt you like this.

“it’s okay, just forget about it right now.” you say. you don’t want to talk about it right now while she’s not fully in her right mind.

you rub her back, and you can tell she’s exhausted, physically and emotionally. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry..” she finally says.

you comfort her to sleep, and she’s desperately holding on to you like you would leave her the second she let her guard down.

you lie awake, thinking about everything. maybe this was the moment to bring you back to earth. maybe you needed something big to happen in order for you to snap out of it.

you just knew you couldn’t be without her. she was the only one that stayed with you, all your friends becoming distant as you fell farther into depression.

you truly loved her. no matter what. you had already forgiven her. you couldn’t blame her. you had given her nothing for almost a year now. she just felt hurt and lonely.

you weren’t going to let anything happen to the both of you. you knew you had to be strong, stronger than you’ve ever been before. it’s just one mistake.

you fell asleep finally, hugging bada tight. you just couldn’t let her go.

you were struggling, but she was struggling too.

you were determined to fix this once and for all, for both of you.

a/n: i’m fucking crying 🤧🤧🤧 anyways to the person that requested this i hope you like it <3

also i stole a dialogue of this from the dev patel episode of modern love lol

disclaimer: the reader in this is severely mentally ill. she makes this decision based on that. this is just fiction!!

#bada lee #bada x reader #swf2 x reader #swf2 #lee bada #bada

65 notes · View notes

pro-mammonologist · 1 year

Text

Demons Are a Girls Best Friend

A fun vacation to the mountains! The brothers are fascinated by the human world and even more fascinated by the human world’s interpretation of them. After exploring a local church, Asmodeus learns of Mc’s relationship with the church as well as igniting an interesting fantasy of theirs.

Note: inspired by the song Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend by Powerwolf, if you’re okay with a little bit of metal, you’ll love this and want it in your obey me playlist

This chapter is the start of the NSFW, it’s essentially the planning process, the setup, and the very start of the adventures. There’s mentions of impact play, bondage, and sacrilegious fantasy. I imagine if you’re reading fanfic on tumblr you’re not afraid of a lil kink. And you aren’t afraid of sacrilege if you’re into Obey Me. ALSO, I really try to have MC discuss the role play itself because I think it’s important people have a good idea of how these bdsm scenes work even if it’s not perfect. Sorry if it’s moving slowly to your taste, I wanted to explore Mc’s emotions as well as the brothers. I think the intimacy here will really amp up in preparation for the actual scene itself! Enjoy!

GN!Mc with a coochie x All brothers

@ikevampharem

Part 1

Chapter 2: “they wanna make you bend and scream”

Now faced with all 7 brothers eager to try out your fantasy, you scrambled over what you wanted to happen. And how. And where…

“So are we gonna dress as priests?” Belphie looked toward Mammon hoping he’d suggest stealing some priests garb.

“Don’t look at me! I feel like stealing from a church is a bad idea!” Mammon answered, confused as to why Belphie asked him not you.

“Well,” Asmo now had pen and paper in his hand, “we could use magic!”

“What are you writing for?” Beel questioned peeping around the table you all sat at.

“So we know what we’re gonna do to our lovely Mc!” He clicked the pen and looked to you. “So, it’s a bit of daddy I’ve been naughty sorta situation! Do you wanna confess your sins to us all?” Asmo’s eyes were twinkling.

“Um… confession usually has one priest present so I figured it’d be a different setting.” You sat at the head of the table, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt.

Lucifer sat on the edge of the table, directly to your left, refusing to sit in a chair for some reason. “Hm, to be honest, playing priests sounds fun but what if we were demons pretending to be priests? Im not exactly too sure if we could all maintain a holy facade. Those days are long gone, don’t we all agree?” Lucifer looked around and Satan was the first to agree.

“I never even had any holy days, so I agree. Plus it only adds more fun to the fantasy don’t you think?” Satan pulled the paper from Asmo and grabbed a pen for himself. “Here, I suggest we set everything up for Mc within their limits and we plan the scene ourselves.”

“I trust you guys to come up with something good for me by now.” You nodded, somewhat thankful all the planning wasn’t up to you. “I can list the parameters though.” You were also thankful that you didn’t have to confess exactly what you wanted to them, your embarrassment would be overwhelming.

Levi put his hand down on the table. “Listen, I have an idea!” He scrambled for the paper. “So let’s say Mc is lost and they find us here and we will use magic to make one of the rooms look like a church right… and then while Mc is praying to themselves out loud for forgiveness, we come in and—“ he abruptly stopped when Beel spoke up.

“If we say everything that ruins the fun right? We need to hear what Mc isn’t up for and what they are up for, right?” Beel looked to you, innocent per usual.

Your thoughts were swarming and you struggled to find out what you should say. “I’m thinking—well—I imagine that I’d be punished for all the stuff you have done to me, right?” You had a thought, a dirty one, but you were hoping for someone to read your mind.

“Go on.” Lucifer encouraged you, knowing you’re feeling a bit shy.

Dammit. “Well, then I guess everything we’ve done is on the table. At least what we can access.” You avoided saying exactly what you wanted causing Lucifer to sign through his nose.

“Everything?” Mammon repeated, leaning back. “To be fair, when we all do it with you, you do have the same limits. Just no actual harm. A lil pain here and there, no tickling, no blood, and only tears from pleasure. Amiright?”

“I’m told the same thing.” Lucifer concurred. “Those are your limits correct? Nothing beyond typical bedroom bdsm.”

“Sounds about right!” Asmo cocked his head and pulled the paper back while no one was looking. “So how about we 7 devise a plan and you, our lovely Mc, gets to prepare!”

“Well, for one, those are my limits, and for two, Asmo you can’t decide for me!” You were mildly irritated at him rushing but you did enjoy his enthusiasm. “Basically, I’m down with restraints, a little impact but let’s keep it down to just our physical person. I’m already about to get fucked by all 7 of you I don’t need that much overstimulation. Speaking of which, I’m down for multiple orgasms but overstimulation might not be it for right now especially since I imagine you’re all in the mood to go all out.”

Asmo furiously wrote, trying to keep up with each word. “Is edging on the table?”

You smiled and Levi scoffed. “If Lucifer is involved it’s probably always on the table.”

“I’m not that awful that I always edge them.” Lucifer looked offended by Levi’s comment but you ignored their little comments.

“Yes but… remain in control of yourselves I don’t wish to pass out before I even get to cum once.” You emphasized and Asmo underlined don’t go crazy on the paper. After he looked back to you thought a bit more. “Let’s use the light system too.”

Satan nodded. “We might need a nonverbal as well. And I think it’s better to use the light system for something like this, but if you do yellow, you need to inform us what to stop and what to continue.”

You thought for a moment. “If that’s the case, let’s say if my mouth is full then my hands need to free and vice versa. I’ll snap twice.“ You watched Asmo write again. “If you don’t hear or see the snaps, ima kick. No matter which one of you it is.” You were in-between joking and seriousness.

“Careful, Mammon and Levi might like it.” Belphie cackled.

“Hey! Don’t go lumpin’ me in with Levi! That guy probably likes to be waterboarded!” Mammon retorted making you grin.

“Water boarding? That’s more like Barbatos! I bet that guy will do anything! Plus… water boarding wouldn’t even work on me!” Levi snapped back and he shook his head at Mammon. “Mammon probably has a findom fetish!”

“Excuse me??? Why would I give my money to someone for just a boner!”

“Well you spend all your money on Mc!”

“That’s different! I’m spending it on gifts for them! Not begging for them to take my money!”

Levi and Mammon continued their back and forth until Lucifer pinched both of them. “Hush. You can squabble about your concerning fetishes later.” Lucifer turned the attention back to you. “So, let’s say you’re sucking me off, you wouldn’t want to be bound? Am I understanding you correctly…?”

You blinked twice, trying to see what he’s getting at. “Oh! Um, I guess if I’m snapping then my hands could be bound.”

“Hm, good to know that’s something you’d consider and I wasn’t hinting at me questioning your safety, Mc.” He smirked, a sadistic twinkle in his eyes. “I just wanted to make sure we heard you correctly. The more detail the better, right?”

You fought the heat rising in your body. “Well I don’t even know what you’re hinting at either.”

“Who says that I’m hinting at anything?”

“You just implied that you were hinting at something.”

“Then what do you think I’m hinting at?” Lucifer crossed his arms, still smirking.

“Something nasty for sure, you wouldn’t be making that face otherwise.” You tried to challenge him, pretending as though you aren’t flustered. “Why don’t you tell me what you plan to get out of this?”

Lucifer snorted. “I plan to have fun, relieve some stress. Perhaps tire them out as well.” He motioned to his brothers.

You couldn’t help but grin. “That’ll take some trouble off your plate, huh?”

“HELLLOOOO! We’re here too!!!!” Mammon shouted. “Stop talkin’ bout us right in front of us!” Mammon moved to the front of the table and nestled himself between you and Lucifer. “And don’t go picking favorites when we get down and dirty!”

Lucifer groaned as Mammon moved between you two. “Is your presence necessary?”

You giggled at his comment and looked at all of them sternly. “Also, when it starts, I don’t want any arguing! We can fight afterwards.”

“Hey, my favorite, aftercare. Ya know sometimes it’s more fun than the actual thing itself. But it’s probably gonna be annoying since it’s not just you and me.” Mammon smiled at you and his brothers spoke up in protest.

“Who said it’d be fun with you anyways?” Satan was the first to talk back. “Mc, you don’t have to include him.”

“Hey! No bullying Mammon either.” You gave him the irritated-mom-stare.

“Shame.”

Asmo cleared his throat and pulled everyone back to the scene. “Aftercare indeed. Bath, warm clothes, lotion, cuddles, water, snacks, cakes?” He listed off his suggestions and Beel’s ears perked up at cakes. “Anything in particular??”

You leaned toward him, away from Mammon and Lucifer. “I’m gonna be sweaty as hell probably. I’m gonna need a cold shower. I think a bath might overwhelm me. Water is important. Maybe some tea and yes, we should have dessert after the fucking. I’m assuming we will be eating dinner beforehand. And cuddles are always on the table but uh… we need to wait until I’m done for me to decide who I wanna cuddle.”

“Ooooh! That reminds me, I am hungry! And while we are out for dinner, we can get supplies so we don’t waste our magic!” Asmo stood up and it’s as though everyone suddenly realized their own hunger.

“I am starving.” You stood and Lucifer looped an arm around your waist to pull you into him.

“Mc. I’ll have you know,” he whispered, “this fantasy of yours is something I plan to play out perfectly. Us demons, we love to play, something like this just strikes me so perfectly. You need to realize that you can’t be shy later.” Your back was pressed to his chest and his lips just grazed over your ear.

“I won’t be.” Was all you answered.

——————————————————————————

When you all finished your dinner, you split up into groups to find supplies for your trip and your fantasy. You walked alongside Mammon and Satan searching for things to do while vacationing while Beel, Belphie, and Levi searched for supplies for your night. Lucifer and Asmo returned to your loft to plan the night ahead.

“What made you come along Satan? I figured you’d want to be with Levi’s party.” You asked, sitting next to him while seated on the metro.

“Truth be told, while I’m fine with helping to plan for the trip, I wanted to have you alone so we could talk about what you really wanted to do.” He answered honestly.

Mammon leaned forward. “While they ain’t alone. And why do you get special treatment?”

“I don’t. Even if you’re here Mammon, they’d be more willing to admit their fantasies considering they slept with you first. So… if you’re here, I figured they’d talk to you about it more.”

You nodded. “I guess that makes sense. But to be honest, I’ve already said the most embarrassing part.” You glanced away and focused on Mammon’s hand on your knee.

“I don’t think so.” He disagreed. “You’re clearly biting your tongue.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “I won’t press you too much if you’re truly feeling too embarrassed but I still want to know more.”

Mammon was oddly silent, his own thoughts swirling. “Ya know, Mc, I bet I got a good guess.”

You swallowed. “Okay…”

“It’s not the getting fucked by priests thing is it? It’s the demons pretending to be priests, amiright? That’s why you suggested it, right Satan?” He kept his eyes on you while your heartbeat moved faster.

“Correct. You see, Mc, I’m trying to get you to admit something in particular. If Mammon has figured it out then I’m sure the rest have the same assumption that I do.”

Mammon stepped on Satan’s foot in retaliation to his comment. “You got a demon kink, dontcha?”

He hit right in the balls. You weren’t escaping this one. “Yeah.” Neither of their expressions changed and you sunk back into the seat. “Is that it?”

“Yup, that’s it.” Satan crossed his legs again and relaxed into his seat following suit. Mammon did the same.

“Damn, all that tension just for a yeah.” Mammon teased, clicking his tongue. “Figured after a while you wouldn’t be scared to admit that ya like demons to the demons you’re fuckin’.”

“Shush.” You elbowed him. “Ima get your ass someday.”

Satan tried to bite back a smile. “I’d be happy to help get him back. I’m sure I have something that didn’t work on Lucifer but would work on him.” Satan shot Mammon a mischievous look.

“Haha funny. Laugh laugh laugh.” Mammon squished your cheeks out of nowhere and you jumped.

“Mams!” You protested.

After you all exited the train, you went into a small bakery to choose your desired items for post-coitus. You eyed the treats. Cupcakes, cakes, cookies, pastries, everything you could want. You saw at the top of the counter a crucifix and your eyes fixated on it, thinking of what you planned to do later.

Mammon started choosing items, asking for the tray of blueberry muffins and asking Satan who is paying for all of this. You suggested getting the cupcakes on the top of the shelf and told Satan to place the order.

“Mc.” Mammon scurried over to you. “We should get that tea over there too.”

You looked to what he was talking about. “Why?”

“Cuz it has a soothing effect. I don’t want you to be in pain afterwards. I know you prolly want a lil but—“

“But what?”

“I can tell that Lucifer, Satan, and Levi are crazy excited for this. I am too, but, you got the two sadists out here foaming at the mouth. And you admitted you got a demon kink.” Mammon reached for the tea and put it in the pile. “I just know Satan is gonna abuse the hell out of that shit… I mean… I would too but, only when we’re alone.”

You knew he was right, you also had a feeling Satan had been waiting for something like this. You realized that’s also what Lucifer wanted you to admit earlier. That you had a kink. For demons. For them.

“Yeah, you’re right. We should find something for me to wear too. I wanna fit the theme of, as Asmo would say, lost little lamb.”

Satan returned to your party, bags of treats in hand. “There’s a small boutique there. I’m sure it has something in there that looks innocent.” His eyes were glassy, something that usually happened when he was enraged or insurmountably horny. “Surprise us. Me and Mammon will search for any… enhancements we can make.”

“Whaddya mean me and you? Leavin’ them alone? Nuh uh.” Mammon tried to go with you but Satan grabbed his arm.

“Asmo and Lucifer are sending the plan to us. We need to make adjustments. Come on, don’t you want this to be perfect.” He convinced Mammon and handed you Lucifer’s card. “We will stay here.”

You nodded and went inside the boutique. You mostly saw tourists clothing but as you moved further back, you found more conservative clothing. You wanted to look sexy but also innocent and it’s a struggle to combine those two things. You knew whatever you wore needed to be white and likely needed to be a dress. Or something that had easy access.

Moving aside you settled on a frilly little white sundress, something that an innocent church girl would wear for sure. It hid everything but there was appeal in the sheerness of the sleeves and how it was practically see through. You went to try it on, admiring how it hung on your body. You also grabbed a pair of white thigh highs, knowing they’d love the touch. The real question was what underwear to wear. You had to move closer to the back where they kept the intimates. Should you even wear a bra or just wear undies? The bra is kinda useless you decided. And, in contrast to the rest of the white outfit, you picked out a pair of cheeky black panties with a small bow at the top, desperately trying to be innocent. It was cute, something to tease them with.

When you went to check out, the clerk eyed you weirdly but you played it off to the best of your ability and joined back up with your boys. “I’m done!”

“Good. They’re almost done setting up, let’s head back.” Satan put his phone in his pocket. Satan and Mammon were both smiling innocently, looking at you with slightly raised brows.

“So? You ready?” Mammon grabbed your free hand.

“Yeah.”

————————————————————————

The group was cooking or preparing a room for the event by the time you got home. Lucifer welcomed you back and immediately ordered you to assist with cooking, for Satan to set the table, and for Mammon to help the others with setting up the room.

You joined with Belphie and Beel in the kitchen and helped with the steaks Beel was so diligently trying not to eat. Belphie was dealing with the side dishes combining vegetables together and wondering why it all looked so weird, to which you looked at him like he was crazy.

“They’re miniature trees.”

“They’re called broccoli.”

“This one looks like a carrot.”

“That is a carrot.”

“Weird…”

“They’re the same in the Devildom!!!!”

Beel was sneaking small pieces of carrot and eating them to his hearts content but he desperately wanted the meat. The sauce part was awful especially since Belphie just didn’t follow directions and Beel drooled too much into the first batch causing Satan to join and let Beel help with the rest of the bunch.

“Seasoning is very important in the human world. Much of the Devildom’s food has more flavor.” You told him. “So you need to put a lot more. And you really need more than just those three. Since Beel didn’t put enough in the marinade, we’re gonna have to hammer in with the sauce.”

“Is that why all the human world food we have in the Devildom sucks?” Belphie asked after almost falling asleep with a knife in his hand.

“Yeah, cuz y’all can’t follow directions clearly.” You ended up doing most of the heavy lifting when it came to cooking, which is unusual considering there isn’t that big of a difference in cooking human food or demon food.

“You’re moving fast, are you excited for tonight?” Lucifer entered and sat at the bar next to the kitchen. “I got some interesting information from Satan earlier.”

Ah, of course he told. “I bet you did.”

“How long until it’s done?” He pondered as you removed the steaks from the pan.

“We are done.” You hurried last Lucifer and called to the brothers trying to avoid his teasing he was bound to unleash upon you should you give him the opportunity. “Come on!!! Get your plates and line up!!!!”

As the other three joined, Asmo wiped sweat from his face and jumped up to you. “Everything is finished and it’s perfect ugh I’m so ready!!!!!!”

You smiled at him softly and he huffed. “What?”

“You can admit it too, you know. No one is going to judge you, Mc.” He cupped your face and pouted.

“I just know y’all are gonna eat me alive if I do admit it, so ima stay quiet.” You responded and pulled his hands down. “Don’t try to pull it out of me.”

“I’m not pulling out don’t worry!” He hopped around to the back of the line and pretended he didn’t imply anything and you served the food.

Dinner was unusually quiet, everyone was eating, likely desperate to wolf down the food and let it settle so they could begin. You were actually pretty nervous now that the time was near, it was mildly uncomfortable and you were the only one taking your time to eat.

“Mc.” Mammon whispered beside you. “What’s wrong? The foods really good.”

You looked down, pushing a carrot around in the sauce. “It’s nothing really.”

“Are ya nervous?” He rubbed your thigh and waited for your answer.

“Yeah. It’s something I’ve always thought about but never thought I’d do.” You answered, knowing they could hear you too but avoiding their presence.

“Don’t worry, if you need us to stop, we can. Does the fantasy bother you?” He reassured you. “We’re demons, not evil.”

“Um… well. No, it’s more or less. A little weird and I’m kinda ashamed of it. I was really surprised when you guys brought it up and you all decided to go along with it.” You heard shifting beside you.

“Mc, it isn’t all that weird at all.” Levi pulled out his phone. “Look, humans are into it everywhere. And ya know us demons tend to have corruption kinks. We like seeing people acknowledge your dark side. That’s how we planned it out actually!”

“We promise it’ll be fun.” Asmo put his fork down. “I wouldn’t want to to be a weird forceful type of situation. And even though we wanted to surprise you, if you want to see the plans and scripts and stuff I think no one would be opposed to showing you.” He ran off to get the papers.

“Yes I agree. I was concerned it might be too much for you, now that you’re having doubts I think it’d be wise to read it.” Lucifer began to gather plates at the table. “If you want us to stop or even not do it, we can return everything and undo the magic. No one will be upset at you.”

You shifted and looked at him. “I don’t want to stop it, but I am nervous. I appreciate you letting me do this.”

Asmo handed you the notes they wrote. “Here, tell me if I need to change anything.”

You grabbed them and looked through them. Each brother had written something or contributed, you could tell. There was a detailed description of the scene and how you wanted it as well as things you enjoyed from previous sessions with the brothers. They even had a list of words to call you and not to call you, as well as some biblical research. They had a timeline as well and open-ended portions that you would likely decide on mid scene. It was also written entirely in glitter pen.

Nothing was off, nothing was harsh, nothing no consensual and nothing dubious, just demons playing pretend. And when Mammon said that it was gonna be making you drop your innocent act, that’s exactly what it was. Everything was you centered, your pleasure. To be honest, it almost made you emotional seeing their attention to detail.

“I’m actually impressed.” You said. “I’m really surprised that you managed to make that whole secretly demon thing not how can I say it…”

“Non-consensual?” Satan spoke aloud. “Yes, I wanted it to be completely in your hands. I even suggested we write a script where we weren’t demons at all. Beel helped really flesh out the reveal part.”

“Beel, really?”

“Yeah.” He said, reaching to point at a certain part. “This is where I started. I can’t do anything that might hurt you whether fake or real. And I just didn’t want to pass any limits or make any of us harm you.” The brothers all agreed and looked to you.

Mammon wiggled your leg. “Soooo, we all on now? You feel better?”

“Yeah I do.”

“Still wanna do it?”

“Yeah, I’m more excited now.”

“Heheh. Good.”

Lucifer nodded. “Just know, you should never worry about communicating this to us. We would never hurt you. At least, not actual harm. Should we ever pass a single limit or even draw near it, I expect you to stop us and I expect you to be honest. Since your our sub tonight your safety is top priority. Even out of the scene, you’re our top priority.”

Man, you could cry. “Thank you.” You uttered out, feeling your throat hitch. “And if you feel uncomfortable I want you guys to stop too.”

“My Mc, you need to be able to first. I don’t want to continue unless you’re fully honest. 100%. Tell me, do you consent to me and my brothers engaging in this scene with you?”

You sat for a moment and nodded.

“I need an answer, not just a nonverbal. I think we all do.”

“Yes. I consent to this scene.” Once the words were out, a weight lifted from your shoulders. Your nervousness practically faded.

“Good. So, let’s clean. And then, we will begin once you’re ready.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #Lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #leviathan x mc #Satan x mc #asmo x mc #beel x mc #Belphie x mc

147 notes · View notes