#not really but I don’t know what tag to put on it

[buck-star]

Valentines sparkle

Overhearing a conversation between two girls, Logan doubts himself a lot more than he should. Trying to have you see and feel the sparkle of Valentine’s Day.

Pairing: Worst!Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.082 Words

Warnings/Tags: fluff, softness, insecurity, mention of past sexual content, petname [trouble, baby]

Authors Note: Thought about a little something for the Event Loveuary by @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt, so here you are. Have fun and enjoy. There are one or two scenes where I could definitely think about a little something, if someone is interested. Divider made by me.

Events: Sweetheart Bingo [Row One-One | I’m yours]

Masterlist | Logan Howlett Masterlist

His eyes roam over the aisles of the shop; everywhere is pink and red stuff, heart-shaped or with hearts and flowers on them. His heart clenches as he notices another girl with her best friend walking to the little spot with chocolate and little boxes made for rings or cards — concerts, trips, everything.

“Maybe he’s asking me then. I saw he looked at these little boxes last time we went shopping. And today he went out, telling me he has to get something from the office. The office isn’t open today,” she says with a wide grin on her face. Her best friend giggles slightly, looking at the boxes as well; her eyes light up when she sees a small one she likes.

“Hopefully I will be that one. It’s so pretty,” she mumbles and lifts a small box in a heart-shaped form with small roses all over it. She holds it almost in her friend's face, who’s looking through the others to find her favorite. “Does he even know what you like? I mean, he’s a man after all, isn’t he?”

Both of them laugh. The girl who’s talking about her boyfriend nods. She’s reaching for another little box and holding it out. It’s a rose-shaped box, and there are a few little roses too. “He does, mostly. But look at this box; you can let them engrave your names in it.”

They put the boxes away again but keep standing there. The girl who’s pretty sure her boyfriend is going to ask her to marry him points at a few more things, telling her friend she needs that too. While her friend always shows other stuff that she likes and keeps asking if the man really knows what her friend likes.

“Lo? Baby?” Your soft voice comes from behind him when you place some sweets and drinks in the cart in front of Logan. He’s turning around, a slight frown on his face, but he tries to force a smile on his lips and nods. “Hey, you good? You look… I don’t know, confused, unsure?”

“Mhm, ‘m fine, trouble,” he grumbles and turns back to the cart and shoves it in front of himself through the aisle. You walk next to him, keeping a close eye on your boyfriend, who does not look as good as he tries to pretend. “Need something else?”

You shake your head and lead him to the cashiers. Logan nods; he’s not too much into shopping, and the conversation between these two women made him feel uncomfortable. An aching feeling in his chest while he thinks about the relationship with you.

“Baby, can you please—“ you giggle when you pull the cart closer to you. He narrows his eyes, looking at you, then at the cashier, and nods. Logan didn’t notice his tight grip around the cart or that he remained in his spot while the people before you already walked out of the shop.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and helps you with the groceries. You notice Logan’s narrowed eyes, his lips in a thin line, and his jaw clenched harshly. It’s a wonder that he doesn’t crush the eggs he’s holding in his hands, or the bottle he’s handing you.

You stay quiet, not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable. So you just pay and let him push the cart out of the shop to the truck. He’s grumbling under his breath, his knuckles turning white with the force he’s using to hold the handle of the cart.

“Lo, you know, whatever it is that bothers you, you can talk to me. You don’t have to break the cart to get out of your mood, and you don’t have to swallow it all,” you say softly, placing your hand on his thick, hairy arm. His green eyes drop to your hand; he loves how small your hand looks compared to his arm, but he keeps his cold expression. Logan lets his eyes trail down your arm, over your shoulder to your face. His eyes lock with yours, and he nods.

“I know, trouble,” he whispers. Of course, he knows. You sit down at night with him to make sure he knows that he’s not alone. You’re staying up all night with him when he has nightmares and is afraid to get back to sleep. “But it’s nothin’.”

You nod, not convinced by him, but you don’t want to push either. So you just put the groceries in the car. Logan keeps grumbling and mumbling under his breath, his eyes moving back and forth between the shop and you, but he doesn’t say a word.

The drive back home is quiet except for the music, the only sound next to the engine that fills the car. Logan acts like he’s focused on the street, even though you feel his eyes on you every now and then. They are piercing, intense, and something is bringing deep inside of them, a fire he doesn’t dare to let out.

His lips part, but he stays quiet. You look out of the window, watching the people and houses pass by. Logan and you live outside of town, in a little wooden house that offers the two of you a comforting and relaxing place without too many people around.

He parks the car and gets out; you follow him. Logan’s intense stare is still on you when you grasp two of the paper bags to carry them inside. He does the same, but instead of just two paper bags he takes six and brings them into your shared house.

Shopping with your boyfriend is pretty easy since he can carry so much more, and you don’t have to walk back and forth to carry all the groceries. You kick the door closed and shrug off your jackets and shoes, walking into the kitchen where Logan is already unpacking all the groceries.

“Trouble?” He asks, his voice shaking slightly, and he keeps his back to you. You hum, letting him know he can continue talking. “‘M sorry. I just… I got lost in my thoughts.”

“I know, you’re an open book for me, baby,” you reply, walking over to him. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind while you push your head underneath his arm to look up at him.

Logan looks down, smiling softly at you. You’re just too adorable when you do that. His heart skips a beat, but the flutter is soon replaced with the heavy uncertainty again. “There were two girls who talked about one of the girl's boyfriend. She said she thinks he’s asking her to marry him, and her friend asked her to… if he even knows her because he’s a man,” Logan whispers, turning around in your warm embrace to face you. You’re tilting your head up, listening intensely to your boyfriend. “I don’t want to disappoint you with not getting engaged on Valentine's Day… and I… I don’t know if you… thought I would ask you to, or if I know you to buy you something you would like; I’m a man too.”

You chuckle softly; this man is just too adorable for his own good. “I don’t expect you to ask anything like that, Lo. I don’t even expect a present from you for Valentine’s Day or any other event,” you say softly, bringing your hands to his firm chest.

“But I wouldn’t even know what you like anyway,” he grumbles, doubting himself. Even though he should know better, even though you know better, you let him speak without interrupting him. “I’m your boyfriend; I should give you something. I should know what you love, what I could get you as a present.”

You smile, snaking your hands from his chest up to capture his cheeks and pull him down, his face only inches away from yours. “You remember what you got me for Christmas?”

Logan’s lips curl into a soft smile, and he nods his head immediately. His green eyes light up, and he grabs your waist tightly, pulling you closer. “This big stuffed animal, it doesn’t even fit in our bed, but you love it, trouble. Of course, I know what I gave you for Christmas; how could I forget that sweet smil—“

His eyes widen when he notices; he knows you. Logan knows what you like. He gave you a present for Christmas that made your smile bigger than he has ever seen a smile and your eyes were brighter than the sun when you unwrapped it.

“I know you… I know what you like; that’s why you mean?” He asks. You nod with a soft grin on your lips. “But that’s different; you told me you liked it. But—“

“You don’t have to read my thoughts, Lo,” you mumble. Logan shakes his head; he would love to read your thoughts. He would love it to make sure you always get what you want.

“But… even though I know what you like. Or you tell me what you like. Celebrating such a day…? It feels just like I don’t deserve to celebrate it. I don’t think I deserve you, and yet we want to celebrate it?”

“We don’t have to. We can also spend the day like every other day,” you say softly, but Logan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. Maybe you wouldn’t be, but he would be at himself for acting like it’s nothing special. “But you deserve love, so much love, so don’t dare to doubt it, Lo. But if you doubt it, then I will prove to you that you’re wrong. Because I love you, every day. Not just on Valentine’s Day.”

“I love you too, but you love special days; you love Valentine’s Day…” he mumbles, remembering the conversation you had on a date where you saw some hearts and roses, and it reminded you of Valentine's Day. You confess that the sparkle of the day wasn’t there since you and your ex-boyfriend broke up, but you still liked the thought of it and hoped someone would bring back the sparkle one day. “I want to bring back the startle for you. I want to be the one who gives you a reason to love Valentine’s Day, to love every day with me.”

“I love every day with you.”

“Trouble… I want to make it a special day. So shut up and be good for me,” Logan grumbles, a soft smile on his plump lips. “Do you remember the little cabin with the sauna and the hot tub?”

You nod with a grin; the sauna and the hot tub were a lot of fun in every way you can think of having fun with Logan. “Mhm… how can I not after having to clean the whole sauna because someone thought about spilling his cum everywhere but where he said he wanted it to be?”

Logan blushes, his fingers digging further into your skin, and he leans his head down. “You’re playing with fire, trouble.”

“It’s true. You said you want—“ you tease with a smile but get interrupted by Logan, who narrows his eyes slightly. He digs his fingers further into your skin, pulling you closer with a low grumble in his chest.

“How about we keep your pretty mouth shut before I have to stuff it?” Logan growls, pressing his plump lips on yours to shut you up. You chuckle, kissing him back softly while you try to push your tongue through his lips. Logan groans into your mouth, not letting you dominate him in the slightest. “We are spending Valentine’s Day in that cabin, in that hot tub, in that sauna. With movies, sunsets, sunrises, and food. Maybe some chocolate and ice cream, too.”

And so you do; you spend Valentine’s Day with Logan in that pretty cabin. Most of the day in either the hot tub or the sauna with Logan buried inside of you. Or on the couch in his arms while he turns on one cheesy movie after the other. Logan even asked you to let him help you cook the dinner for the two of you, even though he spent most of the time kissing your neck and keeping his strong arms tightly around your waist while he mumbles praises about how good you feel and how perfect you are. And yes… he helps you to bring back the sparkle of Valentine’s Day, not just for you, but also for himself.

Wanna see some more of Logan and Trouble? Let me know if you have any ideas.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @fandomxo00 @blackhawkfanatic [tag yourself]

[ohgodthevoices]

going crazy over how husband material osamu is, hear me ouuutttt

tags : fluff, time-skip, f!reader, tattoo , he listens to, he cares , and he cook , i’m thirsting m sorry

osamu would be the type of bestfriend that knows damn well you want him bad but keeps on teasing you and acting clueless just to see how far you can go before you crack

as childhood friends, it was normal for you to be touchy and generally comfortable with each other but it raised his suspicions when you now looked away when he was topless around you. it’s not like you were uncomfortable with it ?

you’ve basically lived your whole life with the miyas, you’ve seen osamu wet the bed as a kid, get rejected by his middle school crush you’ve even witnessed him putting his hand in his pants and scratch his butt, seeing him topless in the comfort of his apartment was a casual thing so why the hell would you look away , did he lose his shape ? no, he still worked out frequently even if he’s not an athlete anymore…

either way osamu always took care for you, he was always so careful when it comes to you , sure he’d playfully hit you here and there but it was nothing you couldn’t handle

just imagine him cooking you a nice heart-warming meal, glancing at you every now and then while you’re sitting on the counter looking like a mess after a long exhausting day , wine glass in hand and rambling your worries away. it really became a ritual for you to swing by his place unannounced after a bad day.

he’d open the door with his signature lazy smile “ya had a bad day?” you finally let you shoulders relax “long story..” he steps back, inviting you in “i got time”.

sometimes osamu gets this weird feeling he can’t explain when he realizes he’s seen you grow into a real woman, it really freaked him tf out when you told him you had your first time with some boy he never heard the name of.

he scolds you after a bad decision for sure , but he’s always there to comfort you right after. SO imagine his surprise when during a drunken confession after you finally listened to him and dumped your toxic bf, you admit to him between sobs that broke his heart into pieces

“why can’t i find a guy that actually likes me—?” your face was buried in his now wet tshirt , his strong arms holding you tight as if they were gonna protect you from feeling hurt, your words were muffled, melting together “why can’t i find someone like you samu…im so jealous of the girl that’s gonna be yours” holy fucking shit how was he so blind to never realize this…

thank god that night was complete blurry in your mind , so when you woke up the day completely hung over and found your beloved best friend making you breakfast with a bed hair and his sleeves rolled up showing off his forearms that you find really hot for some reason , your slight blush was explained.

omfg the day he showed up to your workplace during his break with a well crafted lunch box he made full of delicious onigiris because he listens and he remembers that your annoying coworker kept flaunting her relationship to you and it pissed you off and you wanted to show her that you can pull too

ever since he realized the power he had over you, he wouldn’t stop just picking at you and seeing how far he can go, he was basically testing the waters by stretching until his shirt lifts up, hold eye contact for a lil longer than what he should, and how he praises you don’t get me startedddd

“yer actually pretty decent at this” when you cook dinner with him, “look at ya bein all confident and independent !” when you actually tell the waiter they got your order wrong, “yer pretty distractin’ yk that? that’s kinda dangerous.”

osamu was a pretty touchy guy, not overly cuddly or anything but he did enjoy proximity, he’d usually hold your wrist when passing crowds but for some reason he now held your waist, his touch gentle yet firm on you. istg his hand placement is impeccable

there’s just something about him keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you that’s so endearing, so caring and attentive to your lil daily struggles.

it all happened when you got your first tattoo, he had sent you to his friend whom he deemed good enough to ink your body. he was nervous and excited as if he was the one getting tattooed but that’s mostly because you wanted to keep it a mystery, he knew that when he came home after closing the shop he’d find you there already.

there was just something so intimate about him coming back from work and finding you already at his place , he liked it, he could get use to it.

“ ‘m here !” he yelled out closing the door behind him , analyzing you from head to toe as you pop infront of him with his tshirt and shorts on displaying an almost mischievous smile, his eyebrows creasing as he doesn’t see any trace of a tattoo on your arms or legs, maybe it was on your shoulders?

he plopped down on his couch , man spreading “soo… are ya gonna show me or ?” you happily turn to the side, his eyes widen as you lift up the shirt enough to reveal a sideboob tattoo. he sits up the shock visible on his face “holy shit cmere” you obey him , getting closer for him to get a better look. with a swift motion his arm was now around your hip , pushing you to sit on one of his legs

he clearly recognized his friend’s intricate style, the design cupping the side of your boob, he wanted to admire his work but damn he felt a lil jealous that he worked so close to you. he finally looked at you only now noticing your reddish face

his face was just inches from yours, his previously shocked expression fading as he met your eyes. he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your jaw, and for a split second, everything around you felt quiet, just the two of you in that small space. he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though, breaking the tension as he nudged you lightly

“didn’t know you had it in ya to do somethin’ like that” he whispered.

before you could answer, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, gently pulling you in. his lips brushed yours, just a soft, teasing touch, before pulling back slightly with that same smirk. “couldn’t resist,” he muttered under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was longer, deeper—no more teasing, just the feeling of the moment taking over.

i’m currently such a sucker for time skip osamu he’s all i’m thinking about

[steddieas-shegoes]

matches my weird

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "we are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." - dr. seuss

rated t | 1069 words | no cw | tags: pre-relationship, steve has a crush on eddie, open ending but assume they're gonna kiss later

🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒

Steve knows it’s gross, which is why he never does it when someone else is around. He opens the jar of pickles and the jar of peanut butter.

He scoops out a spoonful of peanut butter because he’s not an animal. He would never risk pickle juice getting in the jar when so many people come over to his house and ransack his cabinets. God forbid Robin try to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and end up with the taste of pickle on it.

She hates pickles almost as much as she hates Vecna. Seriously.

He dips the pickle into the peanut butter and puts it up to his mouth to take a bite.

“What is happening right now?” Eddie’s voice is high pitched and Steve jumps, nearly dropping his snack.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks. He can’t hide what he’s doing at this point, so he might as well embrace it.

“I left my jacket here last night, remember? I called and told you I would be by to get it before I went to work?”

Eddie is holding said jacket in his hands and looks…not as disgusted as he probably should be. He just looks surprised.

“Oh, right.” Steve does vaguely remember this phone call, but he was half asleep this morning when Eddie called. He can’t be blamed for forgetting.

“Are you putting peanut butter on your pickles?” Eddie asks as he steps closer.

“I obviously am,” Steve replies.

“Bread and butter?” Eddie clarifies.

Steve checks the jar to be sure. “Yeah.”

“You should try it with the dill ones.”

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

“The regular dill ones are really good in peanut butter. These ones are too, but the savory– Oh! And the sweet and sour ones! I ran out of peanut butter once and used chocolate syrup. Wasn’t as good, but got the job done,” Eddie explains as he walks over and takes a pickle from the jar to dip into the scoop of peanut butter.

“Um. What are you doing?”

“I’ve never known anyone else to do this! I did it when I was little and Wayne thought it was gross, but he always kept pickles and peanut butter in the house for me,” Eddie shrugs as he chews.

“This isn’t you just trying to make me feel like I’m not weird?” Steve doesn’t think someone would go to such lengths, especially not Eddie, but who knows.

“No. Who would do that?”

“I…dunno. I didn’t know anyone else did this. It’s kinda weird.”

“Yeah, have you met me?” Eddie laughs. “I’m a pretty weird guy. Wait until you see what I do to my hot chocolate.”

“What do you do?” Steve takes another bite.

“This is Wayne’s fault, but I usually make it with a mix of milk and cola.”

Steve makes a face, but immediately realizes that’s actually probably pretty good. He’s heard of people using cola in chocolate cake before, so why not make hot chocolate with cola?

“I should try that,” he says.

“Yeah, I can make it for you after work if you want. I only have a four hour shift today.”

“I can go get some hot chocolate packets from the store.”

“We don’t need packets if you have syrup,” Eddie says.

“I always have syrup. El and Dustin drink chocolate milk every time they’re here,” Steve sits back in his chair. “But is that really gonna make it sweet enough?”

“Trust me, Harrington.”

“I do.”

It’s a loaded sentence, and Steve recognizes almost immediately that it’s a bit heavy for a very simple discussion about hot chocolate. His face is warm as he reaches over to grab another pickle from the jar.

“So…I can be here around eight?” Eddie continues after a long pause.

“Yeah, man, sounds good.”

Eddie reaches over Steve to get another pickle from the jar. Steve holds his breath as their arms brush against each other. His heart stops for a moment.

“You know, Wayne always says I gotta find someone just as weird as me. I don’t think he meant this, but maybe it’s that simple.”

Steve blinks, staring ahead so he doesn’t do something stupid like stand up and kiss Eddie or pull him into his lap. Now’s not the time to explore the feelings he’s had simmering in his gut for months, not when Eddie has to go to work. They’ve got plans later, maybe he can be brave about it then.

“Anyways! See ya later, Steve.”

Eddie leaves. Steve waits until he hears his truck start up before he throws his head back and groans. He’s ridiculous.

The phone rings and he groans again. He’s almost positive he knows who it is, and her timing is always impeccable.

“Hello?”

“Steve. You have to hear what Keith just told a customer. We would have been fired it it was us,” Robin whispers into the phone.

“Are you calling me while Keith is next to you?”

“Obviously I am.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “What did he say?”

“He told them that if they wanted to watch kid movies as an adult, they should keep that to themselves,” Robin sounds half-crazed. “I promise it sounded more scathing when he said it. The customer left and said he’d never come back. But I always got the creeps from that guy anyway. You know the one who always asks if I turned 18 yet?”

“Gross. Hate that guy. Maybe he won’t come back,” Steve says as he closes the peanut butter jar. “Hey, you know how I have a crush on Eddie?”

“Duh,” Robin says, half-distracted.

“Think I’m gonna do something about it tonight.”

He’s met with silence.

“You there?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to do something about it for a month now. Why tonight?”

Steve looks at the jar of pickles and smiles. “Because our weird matches.”

“O…kayyyy. You’re probably right about that.” He hears Keith say something about getting off the phone. “I gotta go, but good luck with that tonight.”

“Thanks, Robs. Do you like pickles dipped in peanut butter?”

“That’s disgusting, Steve. Seriously.”

“Just checking.”

“Do you?” Robin asks, but Keith starts yelling about personal calls on the clock and she rushes to hang up the phone before he can answer.

Steve hangs up and leans his head back against the wall.

“He matches my weird,” Steve sighs, smiling to himself.

[amywritesthings]

I have to put all of these tags in a read more because when I'm telling you I have read them over and over to the point where I have teared up alsdfjkalsjdf peach you absolutely spoiled me with these reactions, you really did. This is every author's dream to see: a wall of text with many capslocks and screeching. If I was self conscious about my smut, then I am certainly no longer thanks to you!!!!

#the second and I mean the SECOND I saw ‘resolved sexual tension’ I started giggling like I fucking goblin #plus ‘nipple play’ Amy you’re trying to kill me #I’m on my period and you’re trying to kill me #idk starting with cradling her head when that’s the thing she hit and how he lost her?? I’m fine. I’m fine. #(I’m sobbing loudly) #instinctually you jump knowing he’ll catch you’ oh you’re out for blood ok #‘fighting or fucking. the odds are fifty fifty’ when I tell you I snorted #Hange’s got a bet pool going I know it #HIM CUTTING OFF HER APOLOGY I AM EATING THIS UP SO HARD AMY #the two of you know the language of violence so well but you know each other better is actually an insane line #Amy you always blow me away but THIS?? #it’s so tender and sweet and you can just feel the sense of *finally* #like yeah there are pieces still missing but they’re falling back into place and that’s what matters #YEAH JAMES CLIMB THAT MAN LIKE THE TREES YOU CRASHED THROUGH #‘do you think the others —‘ ‘I don’t care’ might be the hottest exchange I’ve ever read #god you catch his personality so beautifully. it’s such a treat to read your Levi #even if dirt was a sin apparently you were not. <- Amy I’m going to kill you /aff #tit lover Levi I love this song #HIM HOLDING BACK IM GONNA SOBB #he will never forgive himself for what happened I know it but he won’t let that keep him from what he wants and I love that so much #PINNING HER DOWN BY HEE HIPS WHILE SHE COMES I SWEAR I DROOLED #“our rule’ oh I would’ve cursed his ass out over that fucking three rule thing. now is not the time Levi!! #still remembering to use protection!! my conscious babies!! #‘I never stopped loving you’ hey what if I threw myself off a cliff?? dramatically #‘TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT FROM ME. IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOURS’ #AMY WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO JUST WRITE BANGER AFTER BANGER #‘I’ll cum so fast’ yeah that’s the goal stupid. #oh he’s a babbler. #’let go. I’ll catch you’ AMY FUCK OFFFFF /aff #you’re killing me with this. the symbolism of falling as something good compared to last chapter and the start of the story

silver underground. | chapter 24

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 6.3k Summary: day 163 - continued.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - explicit smut, resolved sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), nipple play, body worship, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, protected piv sex, angst, mentions of death, sensuality Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

I feel... you.

The answer to your question you’ve been asking the moment you opened your eyes.

The clarity you’ve sought ever since you locked eyes with the captain of the Scouts.

I remember you.

Levi kisses you like he knows you, and the rest of the world ceases to exist.

His sturdy hands flutter in a flurry, touching every part of you like he wishes he could have it all.

Chilled palms cup your face, cradling your head as if it's the most precious thing they've ever touched, before sliding down your neck; to the slope of your shoulder, dipping down your sides — pulling you closer, closer, until you’re airborne.

You’re not afraid of falling.

Not with him.

Instinctually you jump, knowing he’ll catch you. 

Your thighs clench around his waist as one strong arm supports your weight, unwilling to compromise the position of his other hand. It remains on your cheek, cupping your face to hold your kisses steady.

As the man stumbles forward, you hear the abrupt slam of the wooden chair go flying across the room, skidding to its side on the floor. 

It’s loud.

(Surely someone downstairs will hear.)

Hange, Moblit, Erwin — in a best-case scenario, those who stayed behind will be the only privy to the commotion.

However, if the entire squad has returned from the forest...

Well, there's no mistaking the shuffles and slams coming from Captain Levi's room.

Fighting or fucking; the odds are fifty-fifty.

He doesn't seem to care.

Honestly?

Neither do you.

(Too much time wasted on open secrets.)

With immense control and strength, he slowly lowers you both to the bed. The bed frame creaks in its age under the weight, but the mattress feels soft compared to the forest floor you crashed into mere hours ago.

Your back touches the ivory sheets, engulfing you in the scent of him. Something uniquely Levi; crisp and impossibly clean with a musk that’s making your mouth water. 

You’ve smelled it in passing the few times he’s passed you at headquarters — always at arm’s length, no matter how close you try to get — but now it’s bound to stick to your body, your clothes —

The way it used to in the Underground. 

The way it used to in this very bed.

His kisses are messy yet precise, focused on the feel of your mouth against his. When you let out a shaken breath and whimper, overwhelmed by his reinvigorated passion, Levi outright groans. 

The same arm once holding you up snakes around from under your back to meet its twin cradling your face, keeping you in place.

(As if you’d ever wish to leave.)

“I’m sorry,” you whisper between kisses.

“Don’t,” he replies just as softly, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth. “Not now.”

“But—”

“I don’t want your damn apologies,” he sighs, traveling south to pepper your jawline with short, chaste kisses. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

When he senses your hesitance, he pumps the brakes on his kisses and raises his chin to look you in the eye. The storm in his eyes has darkened to a damn near black.

His button-down hangs off of his bony frame, giving you a view of the expanse of skin beneath.

“Nothing,” he repeats.

Like he knows you want to fight.

(The two of you know the language of violence so well, but you know one another better.)

The protests, the pleas, the endless stream of begging dies on your tongue the second his thumb grazes your lower lip with reverence.

Emotion flickers across his face, gone as fast as it came, before he dives back in for another kiss — slower this time, the push and pull deliberate with reassurance.

This.

This is what your lips should be doing, not apologizing.

The message is received loud and clear: you tilt your chin to meet him in every kiss, hands blindly raising to run through the soft strands of his black hair. He exhales through his nose, the hot breath tickling your skin.

For the longest time, it’s all you do.

Kiss.

One for every day spent apart.

One for every fight you’ve ever had.

One for every memory you’ve yet to recall.

The puzzle has a frame, yet there are still missing pieces, destroyed edges, that may never return. Maybe he’ll never make peace with it, but knowing you were a stone’s throw away from death surrenders that grief into confetti.

There will be new memories to make.

(As the keeper of your heart, you trust his recollection of the details you can no longer recount.)

This life won’t be perfect, it never has been from the beginning, but so long as you have this — have Levi — then nothing else matters.

“I can hear you thinking.”

The first part of that statement is muffled by a kiss, but he pulls away to check in during this languid, yearning make out session.

Levi squints down at you, lips pink from exertion.

“I’m not,” you lie.

His eyes narrow further. 

“Fine. I am.”

“About?”

“About how badly I want you.”

The blatant honesty dissolves that narrowness in seconds.

“About... how you—”

With the strength harnessed by adrenaline, you push on Levi’s chest, hard, until he’s flat on his back.

The bed creaks again when you crawl on top of him, straddling his hips while your hands plant themselves on the soft flesh of his wrists.

Down; you push down, pinning him underneath.

Levi doesn’t tense. He simply stares above, allowing you to do this.

“Want you,” you clarify, “yes.”

His throat bobs, but his expression stays cool. 

“Are you sure?”

“Do I look like I’m hesitating, Captain Levi?” you challenge, leaning down to hover over his face.

His hands leisurely flex under your hold, as if to relax them from their clenched state. 

For a moment, doubt creeps in.

Even if he’s confessed, there is still so much time unspoken for; so much to talk about, so much that you have missed.

Maybe it’s too much.

The grip on his wrists falters. “Unless if you don’t want—”

With inhuman strength, he uses the light hold you have on his wrists to push up, setting you off balance.

As you waver he quickly finds the upper hand, switching your positions once more so he can pin your wrists to the mattress beneath.

“Don’t even try to finish that sentence.”

To make his point, he drops his head to your neck and plants open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat. You can’t help but make a strained noise of desire, eyes fluttering shut from ecstasy.

From this vantage point, you feel it — the sheer tension in his hold on your wrists, how desperately he resists clenching down, how gentle he aims to be when he glides both of your wrists from the sides of your face to over the crown of your head.

Levi doesn’t tremble, not like you. He remains as calculated as ever.

His lazy, methodical kisses trail up your neck to your jaw to your mouth. Both of his hands work to carefully connect your wrist in an x-formation. Once satisfied by your compliance, he slides one of his hands over both to latch on, pushing them down — yet still giving you plenty of room to escape if something doesn’t feel right.

(For the first time in over six months, everything feels perfectly in place.)

Panting against his mouth to catch your breath, a floating thought comes to mind once again.

So you speak. “Do you think the others—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You follow his lead, tilting your chin up to meet him. “I do not fucking care right now, James.”

His candidness earns him a gentle giggle, and you feel the slightest shift against your lips:

A smile of his own.

You tap his hip cascaded by the disheveled fabric of his white button-down with your knee.

“Then take this off.”

The kisses cease at your request — no, demand — and Levi pulls away enough to stare down into yours.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Those beautiful gray eyes, stormy with droplets of blue — you realize the deep hurt in your belly is a pang of loss.

You say it before you can regret holding it back.

"I missed you."

His expression smooths with how earnest you sound beneath him, before clearing his throat.

“Which part?” he asks, voice slightly strained from the efforts of holding back.

You blink twice. "Which part?"

"Of me, yeah."

Searching his face, you decide to play along.

“Are you going to get mad if I say all of you?”

His eyes narrow. “Lazy.”

The flatness of his joke earns a genuine belly laugh from you. 

Levi lets go of your wrists to sit up, nudging your legs apart so he can wriggle out of the way. You easily comply, careful to leave your boots hanging off of the bed when you widen your thighs.

Stepping away from the bed, he bends over first to remove both of your boots, then his own.

Any other time he’d have a conniption over the dirt, the grime, that you’ve brought into this bed.

(If there was one thing to remember about your past, it was that people from the Underground City could still be just as clean as anyone else. So much time spent cleaning the endless grit from under your nails; an impossible feat.)

Even if dirt was a sin, apparently you were not.

He doesn’t even blink at the specs that may very well still be in your hair.

Instead he’s focused on watching your face as he unfastens the harness at his sternum, shrugging out of his own leather straps. Tossed carelessly to the floor, he rips off his dirtied cravat and ODM gear skirt next.

Pressing a knee into the mattress, he rejoins you on the bed to reach for your chest.

He hesitates, throat bobbing with fleeting uncertainty before he begins to slip the leather through its loop.

“Sit up for me.”

You acquiesce, sore muscles protesting the movement as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

He’s softer with his movements when it comes to your uniform, pulling it apart piece by piece, as if afraid one false move will ruin this dream.

It’s not a dream, you want to tell him. I’m right here. I’ve always been right here. I won’t be going anywhere ever again.

You don’t.

Can’t, not when you’re so mesmerized by the way he pauses at the first button of your shirt.

For a short moment he meets your gaze, studying it, before nodding once.

One by one, deft fingers unbutton your shirt until it’s hanging from your frame, revealing a chest band. All of the air rushes from his lungs in one swift woosh, until you realize—

The scars.

Shit.

The dreamy spell is broken, and soon you find yourself scrambling for something that will quell any negative emotion bubbling in his belly at the sheer sight of your body.

A part of you wants to cover up, act coy and switch roles —

But clever Levi, forever two steps ahead, dives right in to kiss the one of the many healing scars littering your body after the fall — the jagged line just above your left breast — with such fierce devotion that the gesture nearly knocks the damn wind of your lungs.

“Beautiful.”

The murmur is tattooed into your skin, invisible to the wandering eye.

“So—”

He unsnaps the bind.

“—fucking—”

Like a feral animal, his hand tugs once, twice, until it gives and unravels.

“—beautiful.”

Levi forgets himself when his eyes meet your breasts, and you see the way his pupils damn near dilate at the sight.

His lips part, slick from the way he licks between them, before he exhales one single curse like it's a prayer.

“Fuck.”

You stay perfectly still on your elbows, perched on an incline in his bed.

At a loss for words as he stares at your torso like it’s a work of art, your heart hammers in your chest as you telepathically plead with him to simply do whatever he wishes.

Anything he desires, so long as he moves.

Your voice dissolves to a whimper.

“Levi—”

“Can I?”

“Please.”

His own voice crackles like a spark readying a flame. You want to feel him, separated by the absence of muscle memory; to have his hands, his lips, scorched on your skin forevermore.

Levi gives into temptation and kisses south, his nose tracing in a straight line until both hands hold your breasts.

Hot sighs heavily flutter across your skin before those very lips kiss the rising bud they’d been seeking, causing your back to arch clear off of the bed. You whine, trying desperately to stay quiet.

Levi’s too busy worshipping the nipple in his mouth to chastise you for the sound.

His tongue swirls to harden it faster while his other hand massages the other breast, his calloused thumb rolling in the same direction.

Your nails dig into the sheets, anchoring your hands from clawing up his back.

“Levi.”

He hums around your nipple as his answer, its tone dismissive.

When you’re brave enough to open your eyes, you see that his eyes are completely closed — softened in an otherworldly ecstasy at the sheer feel of your body against his.

The sight shoots a dizzying amount of arousal to your belly.

When he switches it up and sucks, those eyes lazily open to stare up at you: a challenge to let him stay like this, to never leave.

He wouldn’t have to ask twice.

If this was your entire night, with Levi’s mouth on your chest while he lives in the memories of you old and new, then you’re inclined to say that there are worse ways to spend your time.

(No, you’re happy to say like this forever.)

Except a chill passes over your pampered breast as Levi kisses across it, abandoning your nipple to trail to the other side — 

Fuck.

“You’re going to kill me,” you rasp, too worked up to care if you sound wrecked.

“Won’t,” is all he replies as he dives back in, worshipping your body.

“Will,” you grit, trying your damnedest not to cry out from just how good it feels.

With one final kiss to your nipple, Levi detaches with mercy to shrug the pesky white button-down off of his shoulders.

The fabric joins the mounting pile of clothes on the floor, but his hands hesitate when they touch his belt.

His eyes notably flicker to your belt — a pause.

Deciding.

If it’s too soon—

If it’s too much —

No, you want to cry out. It’s not enough.

The words die on your tongue, possessed by the ghost that’s plagued your mind for months.

Instead you take action: sitting up on the bed, overly eager fingers tremble as they begin to unbuckle his belt, working at the leather straps crisscrossing his thighs and calves. 

“James.”

His voice is dying on his tongue; a singular syllable of surprise.

“Let me.”

You notice the way his abdomen tenses at your words as you tug the first belt from its loops.

“Are you s—”

“I said,” you slowly repeat, moving closer to kiss the trail of dark hair peppering just under his belly button. Levi exhales like he’s been punched. “Let. Me.”

Punctuating each word to show your seriousness, your eyes meet as he stares below.

Inch by inch, you press slow, meaningful kisses in his skin — first to the left, curving towards his hip. 

Your hands push down the trousers of his uniform pants, using the strength to drag the leather straps wrapping around his legs to fall with them.

Levi stands before you in merely white briefs, and there’s no hiding the immense arousal straining against the thin fabric.

The sight causes your breath to simply evaporate from your lungs, unable to stop staring.

From your peripheral you see the hand at his side flex then snatch into a fist to combat the desire to touch you.

He must feel guilt.

He must be so terrified that this moment will simply evaporate like the rest of your memories.

That you may have woken up, yes, but you can still fall back asleep.

You refuse.

“You can touch me,” you murmur into his skin, and Levi’s throat bobs. 

When he doesn’t move, you take the first at his side and systematically uncurl every finger.

He lets you.

Slowly, calculated, you raise his hand until it’s running over the crown of your head. His nostrils flare as he takes control, abandoning the guide of your hand to cup the side of your face.

A gentle thumb smears across your lower lip in reverence.

“I won’t break,” you tell him, knowing he’ll protest. Your voice drops to a hush. “I won’t.”

“I know,” is all he can reply — then your back hits the bed again, and he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed.

Levi disappears from your immediate line of sight, but you feel pressure on your hips: inch by inch, he’s undone the belt and buttons and yanked your uniform down your thighs, your knees, until they’re hanging at your ankles.

Oh.

One by one, he slips your feet from the pants and uses your ankles to widen your knees, bearing you to him at eye-level in just your white cotton underwear.

“Shit.” 

A feeble gasp escapes when his lips start at your left foot. 

You can’t see him, only feel him — he presses a tender kiss to your ankle then another just above it, creating a careful line up to your calf. His fingers gingerly curl around it to keep you steady as he ascends with his lips touching every single inch he can.

When he reaches your knee, you see it: the darkness in his gaze, how stormy his eyes have become, while making direct contact with you.

“Levi,” you moan, refusing to look away as he makes a point to stare at you while he nudges your left thigh further out to keep kissing it.

Stay awake.

Don’t forget this.

Don’t ever forget this again.

“Can I?” he asks, and you nearly miss the question in your intoxicated, aroused state.

You know.

You know exactly what he’s asking to do.

There’s no chance in hell you’d ever say no.

Wordlessly you nod, but Levi’s tongue darts out to taste the skin of your inner thigh. “Say it.”

(Fuck, when did he get so demanding?)

“Yes,” you exhale. “Yes, I want this. Want you.”

He doesn’t answer with words — a mere wanting growl takes their place.

Raven-black hair tickles your bare skin as he shifts, and strong arms drop to your rope under your knees.

With one swift tug, he drags you directly against his face, and the world becomes a myriad of brilliant colors.

Even if it’s a mere kiss to the cloth of your dampened underwear, you whine from the sheer desire flooding through your veins.

Maybe in another life, you would have teased him for his eagerness.

Maybe before the fall, you would have made him work for it, asked him to crawl to you, to beg.

Not this time.

You don’t have time to be coy, not when it’s been so long.

The tip of his tongue sensually drags up the center of your underwear, the slowness obscene. Your head slams back into the mattress with a soundless cry. 

The hot puffs of his breath tickle your inner thighs as he continues to swirl his tongue against the final barrier between you and his mouth.

“Please,” you beg, throwing all dignity to the wind.

He doesn’t seem to hear you.

Levi’s hands grip your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he continues to gather the taste of you on your panties.

When you have the courage to watch him again, you see that his eyes are closed.

Like he’s found some kind of paradise right here.

With you.

“Levi,” you whimper louder, voice terribly shattered, “Levi, Levi, please—”

His moans against your clothed clit damn near scrambles your brain.

Finally ending your torture, he pulls away to tug your soaked underwear down your thighs, your knees, until they drop to the floor of their own volition.

“Been dreaming of this,” he finally states, his voice several octaves lower and cracked. “The goddamn taste of you—”

He cuts himself off when he runs his thumbs down your folds, parting them with his thumbs.

If you weren’t so eager, then maybe you’d be embarrassed by how wet you were.

Dripping, really, from the way he worshipped your chest only minutes ago.

You almost scream when he dives in and kisses your clit, before his tongue languidly glides against it. By some miracle, you don’t.

His thumbs leave you in favor of holding open your legs for him as he feasts, refusing to allow them to close from the shock of the forgotten sensation.

With one hand grabbing the pillow above your head while the other threads through his hair, you’re unable to take your eyes away from how thoroughly he eats you out.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, and the vibrations of his groans of agreeance damn near take you out.

The captain’s tongue explores every atom of you as if it has navigated this journey more times than he can count; as if he knows you better than you know yourself.

Because a part of you can remember —

The things you like.

The things you don’t like.

The hazy desires that plague heated dreams at night.

Yet Levi reaffirms them, teaches your body language right back to you, as his eyes lift from his task to yours to watch you watching him devour you whole.

Mesmerized, you stare back.

His lips close around your clit and suck as if to challenge you to look away, but all you can do is tense your abdomen and moan, louder this time, while your eyes flutter.

Stay open.

Don’t ever forget.

Lips parted with shaken breath, you witness this man mercilessly pleasures you.

Stares, so he knows that you’re still taken by him.

Worships, so he can remember what it’s like to finally have you in his bed after so many months apart.

It won’t take long to fall clear over the edge.

Not at this rate.

But you don’t want it to be over.

“Wait,” you whisper, “wait, I’m almost — I want you in—”

The second syllable of that word is lost in a sharp cry to the ceiling when he abandons solely sucking on your clit to focus instead on flickering side to side, rapidly, ensuring you’ll come no matter how badly you want to fall into bliss alongside him.

There’s no chance you can stave it off.

Your climax, a damn near year in the making, approaches like a bursting star.

“Levi—” you breathe, higher pitched than usual. “Levi, Levi, Le—”

You can’t finish the next syllable before you're surging off of the mattress, and he shoves you down against it by the hips so you don’t hurt yourself.

The world morphs and shapes into brilliant bright colors in the back of your skull as you come, and you do your damnedest not to shout.

As soon as your moan reaches its peak, your hand manages to smack against your mouth, muffling the strained screech.

His tongue slows down, instead focused on leisurely catching your essence with his mouth.

Greedily collecting every last drop.

So he doesn’t have to dream anymore, you realize.

So he never goes without again.

Panting heavily, your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to remember which way is up.

“Holy shit.”

That doesn’t even begin to describe how otherworldly you feel at this moment.

“Levi…”

When you finally open your eyes, you see him resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh, nose and mouth glistening with the essence of you.

You’re not sure who is more satisfied.

“You okay?” he asks, softly this time.

Hardly a whisper.

You nod wordlessly, but hold your hand out for him. “Please?”

“Please what?”

“Let me have you.”

A storm flashes across his expression as he stands from the floor, his knee coming to rest on the edge of the mattress.

You can tell he isn’t putting his whole weight on it, avoiding the creaking of the bed frame as he contemplates.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his fingertips running up and down your thigh absently.

“Why?”

“Because it’s been a while.”

The wandering fingers travel up, toying with the mess between your legs. Your hips jerk from oversensitivity, and a ghost of a smug smile passes across his lips.

“And I’m not rushing this.”

“Why?” you repeat, this time in a whine.

“Like I said—”

He begins, testing the give of your entrance as his middle finger pushes its tip into you.

You sharply gasp, forcing him to instantly stop. Those gray eyes flicker to your face.

“—it’s been a while.”

“I don’t care,” you state. “I can take it.”

“Well I do, so deal with it.”

There.

That commanding tone reserved for his position as captain pokes through, and it shoots straight to your lower belly.

Rocking your hips to try and force more of his finger into you, you shake your head wildly.

“You do realize that the more —”

His fingertip eases out, causing you to cry out in frustration. “Shh.”

There’s only so much sanity left in your body to plead your case.

“It — ah — the more time we spend away from the others downstairs—”

“As much as I like hearing you talk,” he reassures, voice dropping to a husk of its former self, “I really don’t want to discuss the whereabouts of anyone else when I could have my fingers inside you instead.”

Then that same finger suddenly pushes.

One knuckle.

Two.

Your head drops back when he buries his middle finger into you, unapologetic.

His free palm drops to the side of your head as he hovers over you, easing you to relax as he pushes one finger in and out.

The fringe of his black hair falls over his eyes, his face flushed with inexplicable lust.

“Do you remember our rule?”

Do you really expect me to think straight now? is what you want to say.

Instead you keep your eyes on him as he fucks you on one finger, too tight yet not nearly enough. You maintain eye contact, scrambling for an answer.

“With what?”

When his finger curls, you have to bite your tongue not to shriek.

“C’mon, James,” he purrs, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit, “what’s my rule for you?”

Rules.

Rules, rules, rules—

Then it clicks, the puzzle piece unearthed deep from your psyche.

“Three,” you weakly whimper, realizing just what’s about to happen.

When we had our own place—

He nudges his index finger beside his middle finger, opening you up more.

You widen your legs with little shame, sinking into the sheets as this man thoroughly takes you apart in his captain’s bed.

—I always said I’d give you three.

“Think you can give me it?” he asks with feigned confidence.

You know what he’s really asking:

Is this too much?

Am I moving too fast?

Would this be taking advantage too soon?

The opposite; what he’s doing isn’t enough, because you know what you want.

You need to give him what he wants first before you reach your goal.

Belatedly, you nod emphatically.

“Good,” is all he replies in that baritone voice of his, before dropping down to kiss you when he curls his fingers again, relentlessly fucking you.

The kiss is maddening. Searing. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you try to keep up with the messy press of lips, all too eager to indulge in what it means to feel alive.

This.

This is what home feels like.

You never had to build it with nails and wood and insulation.

It was always in the person hovering above you, working you open with a sneaky third finger that causes a pathetic strangled moan to die on your lips the second his tongue dips into your mouth.

Relentless.

You’re so far gone that you don’t even realize you’ve already come a second time.

It’s Levi who pulls back, looking down at his hand as he keeps curling his fingers into you.

“Shit, already? Can feel you getting tighter– Fuck, James.”

Shaking from the less intense but no less amazing orgasm, you come silently on his hand as you melt into the sheets.

Stars blur your vision like the first snow of a winter.

Weightless.

Watching Levi pull his fingers out of you to immediately put them into his mouth, licking each digit clean, is an out of body experience.

Nothing to waste, nothing to lose — he relishes in the taste lingering on his tongue before you leisurely nudge him with your knee.

He’s still wearing his underwear, but his cock is practically ready to burst through the fabric. His hardness looks painful, the flush of his skin prominent against the ivory cotton.

“...do we still have condoms?”

Your voice is faint, an exhale at best.

His eyes widen briefly before his jaw clenches, and his hair flutters as he nods.

“Yeah. They… should be expiring in about two months.”

“But not right now.”

Levi considers your inquiry, searching your face. “Not right now, no.”

A moment of content silence passes, his eyes glued to yours.

You want to reassure him that you’re more than ready, that it’s been too fucking long since you’ve had him, that you need this more than anything you’ve ever needed in your life.

You can’t.

All you can do is beg, as you have this whole day.

“Please?”

His head drops in defeat, shoulders slumping.

All of the air leaves his lungs as he leaves your side to rummage in the nightstand by his bed, and you can see it clear as day on the hand that is still pressed to the mattress:

He’s trembling.

Sitting up on your elbow, you reach to gently place your palm over it. His attention whips back to you, first staring at your joined hands before looking back at you.

“Are you sure?” the captain asks, looking for complete and utter consent.

You open your mouth to respond, but Levi curls his fist over the condom foil and sits up taller.

His hand lifts the two of your hands together, switching their positions so your palm ends up on his cheek.

In a tender moment, his lips press a chaste kiss to its center.

“We can wait if it’s too much.”

You shake your head wildly. “It’s not too much.”

“You only just—”

“Levi.”

Exasperated, you crawl around him to slowly hike your bare leg over his hip.

Hovering over his lap, his eyes round when you snap the waistband of his briefs between pinched fingers. Instinctively his hand reaches to steady your bare hip.

“I know you have every good reason to worry that I could change my mind. That I could forget.”

He flinches, if only for a fraction of a second.

“But I never left you. I never stopped wanting to be near you. I never…”

Trailing off, you realize.

The words are right there on your tongue.

The image flashes through your mind: two kids just barely making sense of this cruel world, tangled together, when his whispered words tickled the shell of your ear.

Words that would change your life forever.

“I never stopped loving you.”

With a single blink, the lines on Levi’s weary face soften.

The captain’s throat bobs, swallowing the emotions that come with your confession. 

He speaks with a conviction unlike anything you’ve ever heard.

“...I never stopped loving you, too.”

Joy blossoms in the center of your chest as you lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss that seals the promise of forever. He kisses back just as eagerly, his hands leaving your body to push his underwear hastily down his hips. 

You hear the tear of a wrapper foil, feel the shuffling of his hands between your bodies, before lining up the tip of himself against your entrance.

You both stop.

Testing the give with a gentle nudge, you both let out a gut-punch exhale.

“Want you to set the pace,” he states against your lips, trying his damnedest to keep his voice from shaking. “Take whatever you want from me. It’s always been yours.”

Yours.

Nose to nose, you allow him to hold his hard and eager cock steady as you wrap your hand around the back of his neck for an anchor.

Levi lets out a shaken breath when you begin to sink, face flushed with sweat and arousal.

No going back.

(You never want to leave again.)

Inch by inch, you ease yourself onto Levi’s cock. Your eyelids flutter from the sheer ecstasy of finally, finally, having him inside you again.

The captain seated beneath you is oh, so focused, nostrils flared as he bites back a heavy groan.

Although it takes baby steps to get there — you rock your hips and fuck the tip of him, your body slowly relaxing enough to take up more of him — you eventually end up seated with your legs wrapped around his waist.

Levi instinctively curls a strong arm around your waist to keep you in place, looking utterly wrecked as he fully submits to your will. His brows are screwed tightly together, eyes struggling to stay open — to watch.

So you watch him, too.

When you lift yourself off of his cock and drag back down to the hilt, you both groan in harmony.

You can’t help it.

A smile bursts on your lips, stretched wide.

This.

This is where you’ve longed to be.

You roll your hips and ride your captain with reverence.

The room reverberates with the sound of skin against skin, your moans and his grunts, the squeak of a well-worn mattress on an ancient wooden frame.

To hell with subtly.

You don’t care who hears downstairs.

Once he has his own emotions under control, Levi memorizes your pace and begins to buck up in a thrust from below.

You gasp, and you see it: he smirks, his own confidence gaining on him.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, his words as finite as ash. “Fuck, there she is.”

The praise has your blood singing, burning, as you bounce on his cock with an urgency to bring him to his long-awaited climax — and your third. 

“I love you,” you tell him, earning a bitten-off grunt for him.

“Fuck, don’t,” he begs as he matches your pace, bringing himself deeper. “I’ll cum so fast.”

“Maybe I want that,” you tease.

“James,” he warns, pinching your nipple as punishment.

You can’t help but cry out, head dropping back. Levi takes the golden opportunity to lean in, kissing the column of your neck to mask his own needy moans.

The fingers once rolling your nipple as you ride him glide down your belly until they catch your clit, causing you to collapse into his chest. You whimper, and you can hear the utter filth against your ear as Levi picks up the pace.

“Love you.” You clench around him, causing him to hiss. “Shit, I love you so goddamn much. Feel so fucking good.”

“Levi—”

“I got you,” he promises, holding you up as he pounds into you from below. “Won’t let you fall. Gonna make me cum so hard, s’like you were made for me — fuck…”

He loses his train of thought as his fingers rub your clit in furious circles, desperate to get you to the same edge where he hovers.

Over and over you moan out his name, unable to even think straight as pleasure succumbs and fills every vein in your body.

From the way his rhythm is faltering, you know:

He’s close.

You’re not very far behind.

“I love you,” you tell him one more time under your breath, unable to say anything else beyond that and broken variations of his name.

His thrusts become more urgent as he answers between clenched teeth.

“I love you, too.”

“Let go.” 

You wrap your arms around his body to hold him close. 

“I’ll catch you, just let go.”

For what it’s worth, he holds on for a few seconds more. 

He gives you the performance of a lifetime as he thrusts up into you, running after his orgasm with a desperation reserved for you and you alone.

Then you feel it.

Levi grabs the back of your head and slams his lips to yours in one final, devastating kiss before you abruptly come around him.

Your muscles spasm and clamp down around him, milking him for all he’s worth before he’s moaning loudly against your mouth. 

He’s forced to fall off the deep end with you, coming inside you. 

You leisurely ride him through your joined orgasms until his hand comes to your hip, stilling your movements.

Eventually the fingers at your clit still, pressing against it to feel its erratic heart beat.

Forehead to forehead, the two of you stay here, catching your breath—

Refusing to part.

.

Author's Note:

taylor swift vc: it's been a long time coming...

If you've been around my blog for the last several months, then you know I got hit with the author curse (seasonal depression kicked my ass, my day job issued an RTO mandate, I was sick a few times, I have a surgery in late February) so the creative juices were not there. Apologies (and the biggest thanks!) to all who have been waiting so very patiently. To readers old and new, I am so grateful for your reblogs, comments, and inbox messages.

So I ask, after five long months away from you: how are we doing, Jevi Nation?

[hplonesomeart]

I’m getting so antsy about finishing this—Oh how I long for the day I’ll be able to share the full thing in motion. Alas that day never comes because I keep making it increasingly more complicated for myself to get done lol. Maybe give it another month

[ineffable-doll]

Tips on adding tags to fics

I wrote a guide last year about writing fanfic summaries (check it out here) and thought it might be useful to do a follow-up on tags! (Please note that this is AO3-specific and focuses entirely on the Additional Tags section. And also that all of this is just my opinion.)

I see folks often lament that they don’t know what tags to add to their fics; I think the biggest struggle comes from folks not knowing what purposes tags serve. So, let’s discuss that!

Convey Tone

The first thing tags are used for is to tell the audience what tone to expect from the fic. Is it a lighthearted comedy with some sweet moments? Tag it with Fluff, Humor, and Comedy. Is it a dark, slow, depressing tale that ends poorly? Try Heavy Angst, Sad, Bad Ending.

When looking for a fic to read, people want to know what the vibe is so they can find the fic that matches what they’re in the mood for. The summary is useful for this, too, but the tags are where you can really confirm: Yes, this is a fic with Light Angst, Humor, and Happy Ending.

In short: use tags as tone indicators. Not all fics cleanly fit one tone or the other, so overlap tags accordingly. It’s normal to have some contradiction; that’s the nature of storytelling.

Some common tone indicator tags:

Fluff

Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Domestic Fluff

Romantic Fluff

Light-Hearted

Crack

Crack Taken Seriously

Hurt/Comfort

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Comfort No Hurt

Hurt No Comfort

Humor

Some Humor

No Plot/Plotless

Light Angst

Angst

Heavy Angst

Angst With a Happy Ending

Eventual Happy Ending

Sad Ending

Bad Ending

Happy Ending

Hopeful Ending

Ambiguous/Open Ending

…and more!

2. Content Warnings

Next, tags are a great place to add content warnings for your fic. Notes can go into more detail or be used for chapter-level warnings, but putting the broad categories of your content warnings in the tags is a good idea so those who wish to avoid certain types of content can do so, and those specifically seeking out heavy content can find what they’re looking for.

AO3 has the Archive Warnings function to help with this, but tags can elaborate on or specify warnings that don’t fit the Archive Warning categories.

Not everyone likes content warnings or sees the point of adding them, or they feel that they ruin the surprise element of storytelling. I won’t make a detailed argument here, but consider content warnings a sign of respect for your audience and their wellbeing. Triggers are very real things rooted in trauma and the least you can do is give someone a heads up that what you wrote could negatively affect them. Plus, as mentioned, sometimes darker content is exactly the thing someone wants, and a warning can actually be another way to attract a reader.

A very very short list of content warning tags to consider (and here’s your own heads up for mentions of upsetting topics in this list):

Death

Grief/Mourning

Violence

Canon-Typical Violence

Torture

Blood

Abuse

Alcohol

Drugs

Rape/Non-con Elements

Mentions of Rape/Non-con

Consent Issues

Mental Health Issues (there are lots of more specific tags for this category)

Panic Attacks

Ableist Language

…and more!

(There is definitely more that could be said regarding content warnings for Explicit fics, but I don’t read or write those, so you’ll need to look elsewhere for that.)

3. Searchable/Fandom-Specific

One of the most useful aspects of tags is being able to search the entire Archive via tags and/or filter content by tags (both to include and exclude – familiarize yourself with AO3’s Filter system if you haven’t already). So, you’ll want to include tags that folks are searching by. Tone indicator tags are used this way, but so are fandom-specific, character-specific, and relationship-specific tags.

If you have no idea where to start, look up the fandom/character/relationship you are writing for and filter AO3 by that. Then, spend some time looking at tags and filtering by different ones. See what comes up. Reading fic is always the best way to learn how to tag them, and that’s especially the case here. Maybe you’ll end up creating a new fandom tag!

While fandom-specific tags are not necessary, they can help make your fic easier to find, especially in large fandoms. Note that fandom-specific tags will usually have the fandom listed in parentheses at the end.

It’s difficult to make a list of tags for this sort of thing, but here’s some common structures I’ve seen over the years:

[Character Name] Needs a Hug

Asexual/Aromantic/Demisexual (etc.) [Character Name]

Oblivious [Character Name]

Dramatic [Character Name]

Sweet [Character Name]

Angry [Character Name]

Disabled [Character Name]

Autistic [Character Name]

Agender/Nonbinary/Trans [Character Name]

[Character Name] Has Anxiety/ADHD/Tourette’s etc.

Ambiguous [Character Name] and [Character Name] Relationship

Queerplatonic [Character Name] / [Character Name]

They/Them Pronouns for [Character Name]

Teacher/Superhero/Artist/other profession [Character Name]

[Character Name]-centric

Touch-Starved [Character Name]

[Character Name] is Bad at Feelings

[Character Name] Has Self-Esteem Issues

…and more!

Another category is tags for specific scenes, missing scenes, story arcs, episodes/chapters/parts, and so on, such as:

The Night at Crowley’s Flat (Good Omens)

Cloud Recesses Study Arc (Modao Zushi)

Post-Mogami Arc (Mob Psycho 100)

And there are plenty more that are so fandom-specific that they don’t fit an exact category:

Alternate Universe – No System (Scum Villain)

Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens)

Xianle Trio (Tian Guan Ci Fu)

4. BONUS Topic – Canon Divergence and Alternate Universes

One of the most fun parts of fanfic is toying with canon, so here’s a list of tags that can convey your fic’s relationship to the canon story. These are for fics that maintain a strong relationship with or resemblance to canon.

Pre-Canon

During Canon

Post-Canon

Canon Compliant

Not Canon Compliant

Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence

Alternate Canon

Fix-It

Not a Fix-It

Fix-It of Sorts

Some fandoms have specific tags regarding canon compliance with only parts of the given media – usually the case for franchises or works with big gaps between installments.

Not Canon Compliant With [Media Name] [Season/Episode Number]

Next are Alternate Universes (AUs), which are so divergent from canon to the point of not even being in the same world. There are more types of AU than I could dare list here, and several are also fandom-specific, but here’s some generic sorts that come to mind:

Modern Setting

Human

High School

College/University

Roommates/Housemates

Soulmates

Superheroes/Superpowers

Fairy Tale

Urban Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy

Meet-Cute (can also be Alternative Universe – Different First Meeting)

Meet-Ugly

…and more!

5. BONUS BONUS Topic – Romance

Lots of fics on AO3 are written for romantic ships, and there are a LOT of tags to categorize different types and stages of these ships. These tags are useful to establish reader expectations (and again, for filtering). Some common examples:

Pre-Slash

Pre-Relationship

Developing Relationship

Established Relationship

Love Confessions

Love Realization

Drunken Confessions

Mutual Pining

Not Actually Unrequited Love

Getting Together

Getting Back Together

Moving In Together

Falling in Love

Marriage

[Friends/Enemies/Strangers/Rivals/etc.] to Lovers (can also have three stages, such as Strangers to Friends to Lovers or Lovers to Enemies to Friends)

Flirting

Slow Burn

Denial of Feelings

…and more!

There are also tags to specify what physical affection the characters engage in:

Holding Hands

Cuddling & Snuggling

Hugs

Kissing

Making Out

Almost Kiss

First Kiss

Second Kiss

Literal Sleeping Together

Non-Sexual Intimacy

No Smut

Explicit Sexual Content

Implied/Referenced Sex

…and more!

Aaaand a few non-romantic ones to toss around, for fun:

Best Friends

Platonic Relationships

Friendship

No Romantic Relationships (goes under the Relationships section, not Additional Tags)

Found Family

Friendship/Love

Ambiguous Relationships

Queerplatonic Relationships

Family

Parenthood

Love

Siblings

Developing Friendships

Parent/Child Relationship

…and more!

This guide got out of hand, and I still didn’t cover everything I could have, but I hope this was a helpful overview and makes tagging a little easier for you going forward! Here’s AO3’s tagging page for more info. Feel free to drop your own tips in a reblog/comment or ask questions if there’s something you want me to elaborate on. <3

[heechwe]

like real people do | 𝐲𝐣𝐢

୨୧ pairing: yang (IN) jeongin x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 2K ୨୧ genre: lots of fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: marriage au, parents au, body worship, dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, breeding kink ୨୧ synopsis: Who would've thought the greatest wish that your husband had for his birthday was to read his son a bedtime story? Well, that, and one other thing... ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to all of the betas who worked on this for me—a (@chugging-antiseptic-dye), ley (@pars-ley), tiya (@gyubakeries), ally (@lovetaroandtaemin), and kae (@ylangelegy)! I love you all loads. And happy belated to the fox himself ♥︎

Where have Jeongin and Kyungsoo gone?

It’s the one question that permeates the corners of your mind as you search for your husband and your son. You had stepped away after slicing the cake you baked for Jeongin’s birthday dinner to fold a few clothes; the chores got away from you, your focus entirely on your husband’s arrival and quiet birthday celebration. However, by the time you came back, the two tricksters were nowhere to be found.

They’re not in Kyungsoo’s toy room, the study, or the backyard. Your husband usually likes to burn off your four-year-old’s energy with a game of tag after dinner, but you don’t hear squeals of glee or anything else to indicate they’re playing. It’s deadly silent, and it puts every one of your nerves on edge.

Trekking up the stairs to the second floor, you realize the last places you haven’t checked for them are your bedroom and Kyungsoo’s across the hall. Tiny giggles emulate from the crack in your son’s door, and you feel relief wash over your bones. You creep quietly so they can continue without being interrupted, listening to the two of them, the inseparable father and son duo.

“‘What is Real?’ asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. ‘Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?’” Jeongin says the words in a high-pitched voice, making Kyungsoo laugh harder than before. When his father continues, however, he goes silent again, eager to hear the next part of the story. He’s just like Jeongin; a jokester, but an inquisitive one.

You forget how long it’s been since Jeongin read Kyungsoo a bedtime story. Work and adult responsibilities had to impede on one of your husband’s favorite ways to spend time with his little boy. He found other ways to make up for missing it, but you know it’s one of the best parts of his day. Perhaps it’s a small birthday wish come true.

“‘Real isn't how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real.’

“Papa?” Kyungsoo asks amid Jeongin’s reading of The Velveteen Rabbit, a book you’ve had in Kyungsoo’s library since he was little, but you can barely remember if you’ve ever read it to him before today. His voice is curious but small, and you wonder what his next words will be before he says them.

“Yes, bud?”

“Does that mean you and Mama are Real, too?” Kyungsoo’s question makes your heart swell, the muscle in your chest already overly expanded from listening in on the two of them together. “Because I really love you. Mama too!”

Jeongin chuckles, and you hear his lips kissing the crown of your young son’s head. Your husband plants a dozen into the little boy’s hair, making him giggle again, the sound making you croon internally. “Of course, Soo. The day you were born was the day Mama and I became Real, I think.”

“Really?” Without looking, you can tell Kyungsoo is so curious yet so happy. You feel tears spring to your eyes.

“Really really. And you’re Real too, because Mama and I love you just the same.” Jeongin responds. “Right, Mama?”

Your cheeks heat up, your husband too perceptive for his own good. You should’ve known better; he’s always been able to sense your presence since you were teenagers, no place too big or small for him to not feel you around. You wipe the tears away before cracking the door open, smiling down at your two favorite boys in the world.

A million memories flash in your mind as you look at Jeongin with the nursery book in one hand and your son in the other. The day he asked you out in the library, the night you said yes to his proposal, the moment you held Kyungsoo for the first time. It’s all because of the man whose birthday you not only celebrate, but thank the universe for in the quiet of your own mind. Without him, you’d really be without some of the best things in your life.

“He’s telling the truth, Kiki.” Hearing his nickname makes Kyungsoo’s lips turn up harder at the corners and his ears turn pink, the color matching the shade on your face.

Jeongin kisses the top of Kyungsoo’s head again. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed. But I’ll read the rest to you tomorrow night, alright?”

“Promise?” Kyungsoo holds his pinky out, and Jeongin takes it a second later. “Pinky promises,” in your husband’s words from so long ago, “are no joke, babe. Once you make one, you can’t take it back.”

“Extra pinky promise. I love you, bud.”

He nods and hugs Jeongin tightly in his small arms, an “I love you” leaving the little boy’s lips and settling into his father’s chest. Jeongin feigns weakness under the hold your son has on him, and you giggle. “You gotta stop growing. Soon you’ll be stronger than Uncle Chan.”

Kyungsoo lets Jeongin go so he can get cozy under his comforter. “Love you, Mama,” Kyungsoo says with a small, sleepy grin, his face suddenly riddled with fatigue.

“Love you too, honey.” You blow him a kiss as he shuts his eyes. Jeongin takes your hand in his before he closes the door to your son’s room.

The second you shut your bedroom door, Jeongin has you sprawled out onto the bed and his lips attached to your neck.

He peppers his words in between kisses, his love and admiration for you clear with each press of his mouth on your skin. “I may have lied to Soo earlier.”

You sit up and furrow your brows. “What?”

“I think I became Real the day you told me you loved me for the first time,” he confesses. His eyes gleam with raw intensity, his lips still placing butterfly kisses across your body. He, then, latches them to your collarbones and sucks, marking you in places nobody else will see.

"Ditto" is the only coherent word you can then say aloud. Jeongin smirks against your body and unbuttons your shirt with agonizing slowness. 

“I love you so much, angel,” he whispers as he pulls your shirt off entirely, the lace bralette underneath making his mouth water. “I’m a lucky man, you know that, right?”

“You say that like I’m not also incredibly lucky myself,” you gasp as he yanks your pants and underwear down in the same motion. He hovers back over your body after he takes off his own shirt and pants, the only garment left on him being his underwear.

He reaches into one cup of your bralette to reveal your breast, his lips and tongue latching onto the exposed nipple. You moan quietly, not wanting to disturb your child in the next room.

“Every day is my birthday because I have you and our family. I’m so fucking blessed, angel. You have no idea.” He turns his attention to the other breast, and you feel like a frenzied animal underneath him as he continues to tease you. You move your hand down to palm him over his underwear. You whimper at his firm erection and the wet patch on the fabric.

“Like what you feel, doll? That’s all for you,” Jeongin says, unclipping the bralette from your back to toss away. “For you only, forever.”

You giggle, dazed and breathless. You use your free hand to press one of his own between your thighs. Your slick folds greet him eagerly, his fingers gathering your pleasure in a matter of seconds. “And that’s all for you, Yinnie.”

He rubs your clit between his fingers, and you roll your hips up to meet the movements head-on. You clumsily pull Jeongin’s underwear down over his ass and thighs, the fabric reaching the spot just above his knees, but you don’t care. You need him inside of you, sooner rather than later. “Yinnie, please fuck me.” The lilt in your voice makes the statement sound more like a question. It’s a question you know Jeongin will always answer with quick ease.

“Of course, angel.” You gasp when the head of his dick glides across your folds before he pushes inside. Your walls have to adjust to his size, even after all these years. When he bottoms out, your eyelids flutter and your mouth hangs open from the fullness.

He says your name once he begins thrusting his hips. “I have one birthday wish I didn’t tell you about.”

You moan when he reaches between your bodies to rub your clit once again. “Anything you want, Yinnie. Always.”

He smiles and takes your lips in his, tugging on your bottom lip lightly. His pace between your legs increases, as does his fingers against your center. “I want another baby, sweetheart. Will you give me another one, please?”

When he asks so nicely, and gives you so much pleasure, how could you say no?

It’s been enough time, you think. Deep inside of you, the prospect of another baby, a sibling for Kyungsoo to dote on, has always been on your mind. You just didn’t know when the right time would be.

Now, it seems, is as good of a time as any when Jeongin begs for it so beautifully.

“Yes,” you say finally. “Fill me up, Jeongin.”

“Ah, fuck.” He switches positions, your body in his lap as he bucks up into you. “I’m gonna make you so swollen, baby. Can’t wait to see you pregnant again.”

As he helps you to bounce on top of him, his finger still deftly playing with your clit, you recall the memories of your pregnancy. How excited Jeongin was to feel Kyungsoo’s first kicks, the look on his face when you finally settled on names, and the tears in his eyes when his first child entered the world.

He’s a great husband, and an even better father, and you know without a doubt in your heart, you’d give him a dozen more if he asked you for them. He would love each one to the depths of his soul, the heart inside of him so big you don’t know how it stays inside of his chest.

“Give it to me, Yinnie. I want it so bad. Come inside of me, please.” The words come out in a tumble as you orgasm, your walls fluttering around Jeongin’s cock and your release coating him as he thrusts harder and faster. 

He changes positions once again, throwing your legs over his shoulders so he can truly go deeper than either of you thought possible. “I love you so much, angel.”

It’s the last words on his tongue before he comes, your insides filled with so much of his seed that you know he won’t let it go to waste. He milks the last of his orgasm before he pulls out, only to stuff what’s seeped out of you back into your pussy. Satisfied he’s done his job, he kisses your stomach and pulls you tightly in his embrace, your back to his front. The two of you are covered in sweat and sticky in more ways than one, but he’s so in love and enamored with what’s coming for the two of you, he pays no mind to instantly cleaning up.

“Best birthday ever,” Jeongin says into your neck. You laugh, thinking the celebration might just be for you rather than him. He treats you like a princess, even on days he’s the one who's meant to be ravished with attention and love. But that’s how he’s always been and always will be, a giver more than a taker. “I love you, sweetheart,” Jeongin says.

“I love you too, Yinnie. Always,” you say as you fall asleep, hoping he knows just how real your love is for him.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @lovetaroandtaemin @xomakara @pars-ley @addictedtohobi

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

[annwrites]

punish

⸻ part i: august underground ⸻

| chapter one. |

· pairing: serialkiller!billyhargrove x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: tina, a classmate of yours from hawkins high, is dead. a young woman being found brutally murdered in the woods puts your small town on high alert, even if everyone is trying to convince themselves that it had to have only been an outsider passing through, because things like this don't happen here. you attend the funeral with a grieving nancy, who's distraught over the loss of her friend, and under such grisly circumstances, at that. and while you're reluctant to feed yourself possible faux comfort of it being a one-time horrid occurrence like so many others, you fail to fathom in your imagination who the killer just might be—and that his reign of terror over the town is far from over as the bodies begin to pile up...and that he's soon to set his sickening sights upon you. but it's not your blood he thirsts for. what he has planned...will end with a new face upon milk cartons across the country. one you never would've imagined would grace the 6 o' clock news with the headline reading...'missing', and the question inevitably becomes: will you be found? · tw: dead dove, murder, mutilation of a female body (only discussed, not recounted), stalking, obsession, misogyny, disturbing sexual themes · tags: sapphic themes & interactions (nancy wheeler & reader) · word count: 7.8k · ꒰a/n꒱: the title of this fic comes from ethel cain's song of the same name. likewise, the first part of this series is inspired by ethel cain's song of the same name as well. the work as a whole is inspired by the sharp objects tv series, true detective s1, as well as ethel cain's album perverts.

“Did…did you hear what he did to her body?”

You drape curls over either of your shoulders and ensure your black satin ribbon is positioned exactly-so at the back of your head. 

It’s not that you want to be ‘dolling yourself up’ for such an occasion, but you do think it’s important that you look respectable…out of honor for the deceased. 

You stand and pad over to Nancy, then seat yourself beside her upon her quilted comforter. 

Your eyes meet hers and you shake your head. 

“Is it…” You sigh. 

Of course it’s bad.

Nancy smooths the skirt of her dress nervously. 

“He…shoved a tree branch inside…” She trails off for a moment, then swallows thickly. “Inside her. It…came out of her stomach.”

Your own turns at the vision that’s now been painted within your mind, and your eyes well with tears. “It sounds sick, but I wonder if just being raped would’ve been a kinder fate. If she was alive when he…did that, I mean. I hope she wasn’t.”

You sniffle. “I really hope she wasn’t.”

The car is silent as Nancy’s dad drives everyone to the wake. You merely stare out the window while holding Nancy’s hand.

The two of you are frightened. Things like this…they don’t happen here in Hawkins. Such violence is entirely unheard of. 

You didn’t know Tina well, but Nancy had been friends with her.

She’s, in truth, been rather quiet about it all. Which you understand. There’s something about the discussion of horrific things that makes it feel like if you dare speak too much about it, that you’ll be next. That tragedy is contagious. 

But Nancy’s silence stems, instead, from grief. You think that it’s because it isn’t real for her yet: that Tina is dead. 

You’d questioned her about whether she truly wanted to come today; had assured her that if she wanted to wait—only wanted to visit Tina’s grave once she was laid to rest—that that would be completely understandable. But she’d insisted. Had stated that she needs to see her, so as to believe that it’s true: that she’s dead, gone…lost, and, by extension, confirmed your suspicions.

So, you’re coming along with her to say goodbye while you truly hope within your heart that Tina has found peace. And that whoever did such an evil, vile thing to her is soon caught, and is made to feel even a fraction of the fear and pain that she did in those terrifying final moments. 

They say they look like they’re sleeping.

She doesn’t look like that to you. 

No one sleeps so perfectly. 

Some people may sleep on their backs, but not with their hands clasped so-exactly over their…stomach. And not while dressed in their Sunday best. But you suppose such attire is required, so as to hide the violation beneath. 

Their hair isn’t smooth and parted so evenly over their shoulders. 

Women don’t go to bed with faces full of makeup. 

And people don’t sleep inside coffins in parlors that reek of lilies and gardenias, surrounded by countless people wearing suits and dresses as they cry over the loss of the one who’s been put on display for everyone else’s sake. For their comfort.

What a strange arrangement funerals are. 

One dies, and then is made into a spectacle for everyone else’s viewing pleasure. For everyone else to speak of and study while all one can do is lie there…unspeaking, unmoving, unseeing.

Funerals really do seem far more about the audience, and far less about the reason such an audience has been convened to begin with. 

You think you want to be cremated when your time comes. You should probably tell someone that, or write it down somewhere where your final wishes will be easy to find. 

And you should probably do so soon. 

Which isn’t to say that this isn’t going to turn out to be a one-off…occurrence, even if that sounds, somehow, crass to think. But if it isn’t…if there’s someone in town that now has a thirst for hunting young women, then it doesn’t hurt to think ahead. 

You begin to slowly look around then, wondering if he’s here. 

Some seem to think that maybe it was just an outsider passing through town. But you wonder if that’s not just a pleasant lie they’re feeding themselves to give themselves a false sense of security. So that they can play pretend that everything is okay. That they’re safe. That whoever it was got what they needed to out of their system, and all will soon return to normal.

They might as well just say it: they already want to forget. Want to turn a blind eye, and pretend like Tina wasn’t murdered in cold blood, then defiled during a fit of black rage afterward.

Nancy turns to you with tears slipping down her cheeks and your heart shatters at the sight. She opens her mouth to speak, then promptly shuts it before whimpering in pain. 

“Do…do you want something to drink, maybe?” you offer, unsure of what else to say.

She nods silently and you give her a small, forced smile before stepping away and heading toward the back of the room to a table that’s laden with various refreshments.

“She was a slut, yet we’re expected to sit here and listen while the preacher and her parents drone on and on for the next hour about how sweet and fuckin’ innocent she was?”

You blanch, and nearly drop the cup of ice water you’ve just filled for Nancy.

“Dude, that’s… I mean, the two of you went out, right? This is her funeral, Billy, so—” the young man speaking in reply seems at a loss for words at the cruel remarks which just spewed forth from Billy Hargrove’s lips so easily.

How can he talk about her like that? Of course it’s true that death doesn’t erase the terrible deeds one has committed, but in no way do you think that going out with boys and maybe messing around with them in the backs of their cars is that. As if he’s some pious little saint himself. He himself certainly garnered a reputation around Hawkins High, and not long after first gracing its halls, which, without quarrel, serves as indefensible proof otherwise.

What a fucking hypocrite.

You should say something.

But you don’t want to cause a scene.

Because, what if instead of getting him to shut up, it only serves to rile him up further, and he then loudly proclaims similar sentiments for all to hear? And then that is how today will be remembered.

You lightly shake your head while doing your utmost to tamper down your pounding heart that’s ready to fly into fight mode, and pour yourself a plastic cup of lemonade before returning to Nancy with drinks in-hand.

Billy watches as you step away, wholly oblivious to his dark gaze that’s now settled upon you. It has been for some time now, in truth. But one as innocent and naïve as yourself would never have a clue as to his infatuation. It’s one of many things he likes about you: your purity.

Sometimes he thinks it might be love...what he feels. 

Billy leans back against the edge of the archway which separates the foyer from the parlor and takes a sip of his spiked Coke before licking his lips and tipping the lip of his cup toward you as you take a seat beside Nancy Wheeler. “That’s the girl you get down on one knee and make a life for. Who you bust your ass to make happy and feel safe.”

He glances to Tina’s casket and sneers. “Not every set of lips is worth so much goddamn effort.” 

You remain still and silent throughout Tina's funeral service while Nancy cries quietly beside you.

You honestly feel like you might be sick, because none of this seems real.

Tina had been in the library where you work no more than a couple of weeks ago, checking out a new romance novel. And now...now here her lifeless corpse lies before you.

You keep expecting her to open her eyes, sit up, smile, and exclaim that the joke is over; you all played along beautifully, and everything is okay once again—you may all returned to your regularly scheduled programming now.

You don't want this to be real. Don't want this to be the new reality that Hawkins will be forced to live under the mourning veil of until a resolution comes to fruition, one way or another.

You don't know which theory you prefer, in truth: it being a mere passerby, meaning the threat has come to a finish just as quickly as it began, or that it's someone here, perhaps in this very room. At least that way, the perpetrator can be caught and brought to justice. Rather, so that Tina's family, as well as her memory can obtain as much.

Prison would be too kind a fate for him, whomever he may be.

They should bring back public hangings, you muse to yourself as you twine your fingers between Nancy's to give her a sense of grounding and steadiness as the pastor's speech draws to a close.

Billy leans back against his Camaro as he retrieves a lighter from his pocket, then sets the cigarette, which is perched between his lips, ablaze.

He watches as you tread quietly behind Nancy from across the parking lot, and as he focuses upon your angelic face—it resembles that of a pretty little porcelain doll; so fragile and easy to break—he takes note that you've been crying. Not at quite the same volume as your friend, clearly, but you have.

It makes you seem impossibly more beautiful, though. Hauntingly so.

He then ponders what your tears might taste like.

He groans and quickly palms himself over his pants at the thought of drinking them down—licking them clean from your supple, untouched skin—as you slide along his length while whimpering beneath him. From fear, overstimulation, or just the overwhelming feeling of being absolutely loved and devoured by him, he's not sure. In truth, any would do. Preferably all—simultaneously.

You have no idea how good he could be to you. For you.

You can't fathom the things he'd do just to make you happy. To keep you safe.

All he wants is a chance to show you.

He knows that in time, when things are just right, he will.

The languid summer air is sweltering today.

You shift uncomfortably atop the metal folding chair you're seated upon, then lift one of your legs so as to drape it over your opposite one, but know you won't be any more comfortable that way—your thighs will merely stick together; slippery with sweat they are—so you instead settle for once again crossing your legs at the ankles and folding your hands politely in your lap as you try desperately to focus on the pastor before you as he reads a passage from the Bible. The book of Psalms, you think, but aren't sure. The humidity settles over you like a heavy, suffocating blanket, causing your lids to droop and your senses to numb.

A sweat-soaked tendril of hair sticks to the back of your neck while a drop of perspiration slides downward, between your shoulder blades.

This isn't the right weather to be dressed all in black in, you think.

And then you lightly shake your head and force yourself to snap out of it.

Who thinks like that at a burial of all places? About choice of wardrobe?

Selfish, you think, mentally chastising yourself.

Eventually, the pastor, similarly to at the funeral home, steps aside, leaving an open opportunity for anyone who might like to give a few kind parting words to the gathered crowd, in honor of the deceased, a chance to do so.

Nancy shifts infinitesimally beside you, and you glance to her, only to find her already looking at you.

Her eyes flit between yours, almost like she's asking for some sort of silent permission or blessing—no, it's encouragement which she's wanting—so as to stand and say whatever it is which is within her heart.

You settle a hand atop her knee and give it a gentle squeeze while forcing a small, pained smile to your lips.

She swallows thickly, blinks, then nods just once before standing and making her way to the head of Tina's casket on uncertain limbs.

She reaches into her pocket and retrieves—with trembling hands—a crumpled piece of paper, which she proceeds to slowly unfold.

"We knew each other since we were six. And you were taken from us at eighteen. Twelve years we had to grow together and learn as friends. But a life shouldn't be quashed down to simple arithmetic—to mere numbers and decimals. To—"

Her lip quivers, but she quickly swallows it down, continuing on. "To dates carved into stone; from a specified start, to an unimaginable end. No, such dates don't show us the in-between. Words can try: daughter, sister, friend. But still it isn't enough. Plenty of us know it can never be. So, you live on through us instead. That's the phrase, isn't it? 'Survived by'. And you are: survived by everyone here. In our mind's eyes, our memories, our hearts, and our souls. We carry you with us, even as we lay your body down here to rest."

She lets out a quiet sob while rolling up the worn paper between her hands before clutching it tightly between them. "We love you, Tina. I'm so sorry this happened to you."

She makes her way back over to you, and nearly falls into her chair as her legs give out beneath her.

Her mom takes her into her arms as she begins to cry all the harder—as black tears streak down her cheeks, painting her face in a gesture of remembrance for the dead.

You silently mill about as Nancy and her mom, Karen, give heartfelt, tearful condolences to Tina’s family.

A cool breeze washes over your heated skin and you ease your neck back, watching as Spanish moss flits gently in the wind above you. The corner of your mouth tugs downwards into a frown at the sight of the ashen branch it hangs upon—all life now leached from it. It’s strange to consider: that a tall, sturdy, and strong oak tree is oh-so-slowly being drained of life by something so willowy and inconsequential.

There’s a term for Spanish moss, kudzu, and the like. Invasive species. An unwelcome outsider—or, in the case of kudzu, welcome, until it wasn’t; until it became too unruly to handle, and was thus left to swallow up every area it crawls its way across, completely uncared for—but too much of a parasite for any one person to know how to properly, or, rather, permanently, eradicate.

You suppose it serves as a reminder of how inconsequential you all truly are: people; humans. The house always wins. Nature, that is. It will one day reclaim all.

Maybe it’s supposed to be that way.

Time is a flat circle which envelopes and encapsulates everything. There is nothing here which hasn’t always been and won’t always be.

Perhaps one should take comfort at such a thought.

You glance around, wondering where your headstone will one day rest while attempting to envision your own burial and who might be amongst the crowd come to watch you become part of the earthen soil.

"You made a very beautiful speech, sweetheart," Nancy's mom states quietly from the front of the car.

"Thanks," she replies, barely above a whisper.

Her mom glances to the rearview mirror and catches your eye. "How're you doing, Y/N? You thirsty?"

She rummages in her oversized purse for a moment before retrieving a lukewarm water bottle for you from within, which she proceeds to hand back to you over her shoulder.

You take it from her and hold it tightly between your hands. "Thank you. And I'm...okay." You pause. "I guess. I don't know. I think...we're just—"

"Scared," Nancy interjects.

You nod.

The two of you grow silent again for a moment and you listen as the AC struggles to crank out cool air to combat the extreme summer heat which means to fight its way into the limited space of the car’s cabin.

“I know I’m not your old man,” Nancy’s dad starts, and you smile slightly, already sure you know where this is going to lead. “But I still consider you one of my own since our house has always stood as a sort of second home for you. I just want you and Nancy both to be safe. To mind the town curfew and always be looking over your shoulders. Alright?”

You glance to Nancy and she shakes her head with a grin. “Yes, dad.”

His eyes shift toward the rearview mirror and you give him a smile. “Yes, Mr. Wheeler.”

Nancy slides your hand into her lap. “You’re still…staying over tonight, right?”

You nod while giving her a small, playful nudge. “No, I just brought a bag over this morning because I’m slowly moving in.”

She snorts. “I’ll trade your parents Mike to get you all to myself.”

Her mom shakes her head. “Nancy…”

She glances to the back of her head with a sheepish look upon her face. “Just kidding.”

Nancy flops back onto her bed, then rolls her head to the side, watching as you peel yourself out of the black dress that clings to your sweaty skin, eager to be rid of it.

You try not to picture embalming fluid seeping out of Tina’s pores then, only for it to soak into the satin pillow which rests beneath her head from inside her locked coffin, staining it…what color is embalming fluid, anyway? For some reason, you imagine it as being blue. You wonder if that’s accurate.

You gently shake your head, sending the thought fleeing.

“What’s wrong?”

You glance to Nancy, letting your dress pool around your feet before stepping to the side. You then pick it up from the floor to toss in her hamper before going to shower. “Nothing. Just…today, I guess. I think I feel strange about being there.”

She sits up and her brows bow in confusion. “Why?”

You shift on uncertain feet and shrug. “I wasn’t close with her like you were. We were acquaintances, but barely, at that.  I guess I just feel like it wasn’t my place to attend today, maybe.”

She stands and pads over to you, then slips her hands into both of yours. “You were there as a sign of respect.”

Her eyes flit downward and you watch as her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. Or perhaps it’s just the blush she’s wearing, causing the illusion of her pale skin warming. Her gaze meets yours once again. “I would’ve fallen apart without you today.”

She wraps her arms around your neck. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispers, nuzzling against you.

You hug her back. “Me too.”

You take a step back and grip each of her forearms. “I’m here whenever you need me.”

She nods while stepping toward you once more, and she presses a firm kiss to your cheek. “I know.”

You’re currently leaned back against the foot of Nancy’s bed, amusing yourself with a hundred piece puzzle on the floor while she flits through glossy magazines atop her bed—her legs swaying back and forth behind her while Flashdance plays quietly on her box TV across the room that’s set atop her dresser.

All of a sudden, your view is blocked by the page of a magazine being hovered in front of your face.

“She’s really pretty,” Nancy states while hanging her head off the edge of the bed.

“Uh huh.”

She sighs irritably. “You’re not even looking.”

“I’m trying to figure out where this piece goes.”

She shoves the magazine further into your face until it blurs.

You groan before snatching it out of her grip.

“Hey!”

You lean your head back and blink at her. “I thought you wanted me to look at it.”

She merely raises a brow in response.

You glance to the page and take a moment to study a picture of Molly Ringwald. “She was good in Sixteen Candles,” you remark before tossing the object behind you.

Nancy then playfully rests her chin atop your head and you bite back a smirk. “You don’t think she’s pretty?”

You press the puzzle piece into place. “She is.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

You laugh quietly. “Someone’s in a better mood.”

She rolls onto her back. “Do you think that’s bad? To feel happy for even a second while Tina is…” She trails off.

You turn around while resting one of your arms atop the mattress. “No. Of course not. She’s…gone, Nancy. And forcing yourself to be miserable in some twisted attempt to ‘honor her memory’ won’t change that. Don’t punish yourself.”

“I know.”

There’s a knock at Nancy’s door then and both your heads turn in that direction.

“Yeah?” Nancy calls, expecting it to be her mom checking on the two of you.

You’re both surprised when the door swings open, however.

“Am I interrupting girls’ night?” Steve asks while hanging in the doorway.

Nancy sits up then and perches herself on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

He shuts the door behind him before coming to seat himself next to her. “Thought I’d stop by and tell you in-person.”

You turn around and gaze up at the two of them, and Steve gives you a gentle smile, which you return.

“Tell us what?” Nancy insists, now on-edge.

“There’s going to be this…memorial-type-thing in the woods tonight. For Tina.”

“The woods—” you start, before Nancy interrupts, speaking your very thoughts aloud.

“The ones where Tina was murdered ? Not those woods,” she says incredulously.

Steve turns more toward her while sliding one of his knees atop her bed and resting his hand against the small of her back. “I think it’s just people trying to change how they remember that place. Throwing it back in his face—what he did there.”

Nancy looks to you with tears shimmering in her eyes, so you stand and seat yourself next to her.

“No one who shows up there tonight will be going to honor Tina. They’re going to throw a bonfire—a party—in the woods so they can get drunk. Right on top of where she was…” She sniffles.

Steve’s eyes flit to yours and then back away so quickly you almost doubt it happened.

“I’m sure that’s why some will be there tonight. But I just thought that, for you, maybe it could serve as some small form of…closure.”

“We’re all under curfew,” you remind him.

He shrugs. “It’s not like anybody our age is going to be adhering to it. Not tonight, anyway.”

Nancy speaks up then. “My parents would never let me out of the house, even if I wanted to go. You know that. So I don’t understand why you’re even bothering with—”

He looks at her bedroom window on the other side of the room, which is shrouded in billowy white curtains. “Could just do like I used to in high school when I wanted to come see you.”

He looks at her once more. “But if you’d rather stay here, I understand.”

Nancy wipes a tear from her cheek and you feel mildly irritated with Steve at the sight of her renewed emotional distress. Before he showed up, the two of you had been having a pleasant evening—she’d finally been in higher spirits for the first time in days. And now… Now she’s mournful again.

“Do you want me to go?” Steve asks her quietly.

Nancy turns fully toward you. “What do you think we should do? Should we go? I don’t know if I can take seeing that: people tossing beer bottles and trash all over where she—she was… And just laughing and pretending like everything is fine, and—”

She begins to sob then and throws herself against you.

Steve shifts awkwardly atop the bed, then clears his throat. “Maybe I should go…”

“No,” Nancy whimpers. “Can you both just hold me, please?”

Steve sidles closer and envelopes her back with his chest.

Nancy lies her head upon your shoulder and you each hold her as she cries, just like she asked.

“Ow!”

“Shh, just go slow and we’ll be fine,” you insist while silently closing Nancy’s window until it’s open only a crack.

You turn back around and watch with a pounding heart—terrified that the two of you are about to be caught any moment now, that her parent’s bedroom light will flicker to life and you’ll be busted and banned from their house, even if the two of you are technically adults now—as Nancy climbs down the trellis on the side of the house.

Once she’s reached the ground, she and Steve both stare up at you as they beckon you down to them.

“This is so stupid,” you mumble silently to yourself before following along behind your friend, praying that you won’t come to regret this when the two of you wind up in handcuffs for disobeying town curfew.

Your head lulls to the side and you watch as street lights and storefronts flit quickly by the car window.

You hope there’s not a deputy cruiser just waiting around a bend in the road up ahead somewhere.

The three of you may not be underage anymore, but you’re sure that won’t much matter since you and Nancy are barely even nineteen. You glance to Steve then and immediately grow cold all over.

No one knows who it is yet.

Steve hadn’t been lying about this supposed gathering in the woods, right?

No.

He isn’t like that. He’d never hurt Nancy. Would never hurt a fly, you’re sure. But that’s what makes it all the more plausible, isn’t it: that no one would ever suspect someone like him. Someone so kind and straight-laced and…well, he’s just your regular golden boy, isn’t he?

Is this how things will be from now on? You suspecting every single man you pass on the street and in store aisles? Doubting any sense of safety or trust you once felt toward any given person because of the terrible unknown that now lies over everyone’s heads in this town?

You stare at the back of Nancy’s headrest, wondering if she’s now thinking the same thing. If it’s come to her yet: the terrible possibility that the two of you could be next—tonight.

You feel sick.

“How did you find out about this…gathering?” you ask worriedly.

Steve clears his throat. “Tommy told me about it this afternoon.”

You nod. “Who do you think it is?”

You stare at the rearview mirror, expecting him to look at you. Rather, you wait for there to be a tell. Some jerk of a muscle or sudden movement which will confirm your suspicions. You pray he does no such thing. Pray that you’re entirely wrong.

Steve shrugs. “I wish I knew. That anyone did so this can all be over. I mean, I have no idea who the hell would’ve wanted to hurt Tina to begin with. Especially like that.”

He flips his right blinker on. “Just makes me sick.”

You and Nancy stay close to Steve as you all draw nearer to the bonfire.

Nancy’d been right about that much.

You’d, luckily, been wrong. About Steve, that is. You hope so, at least.

Nancy loops one of her arms around yours and you rest a reassuring hand against it.

“Either of you guys want anything to drink?” Steve asks while tucking a curl behind Nancy’s ear.

“Water,” you reply.

“And a Coke,” Nancy adds.

He nods and makes his way over to a cooler while you lead Nancy over to a fallen log for the two of you to seat yourselves upon.

“This feels…” Nancy trails off and shakes her head. “I just keep thinking—wondering, rather—if he’s here. I’d give anything right now to be able to read minds—find him out.”

Her eyes meet yours. “Maybe I’d shove a broken beer bottle shard in his neck.”

She’s never been the angry, violent type, but you figure she’s entitled to being as much now.

“He deserves that and worse,” you say.

Steve returns with your drinks then.

An older girl with a teased strawberry-blonde ponytail takes a standing position before the fire—flames licking at the sky above her frizzy head of hair—and she raises the amber bottle in her hand high above her to gather everyone’s attention.

You watch as beer sloshes from the open neck before she lowers the drink to her side again. “So, we all came here tonight for Tina. To give a big middle finger to the sick fuck who did this to her.”

She clears her throat, and pauses, like she’s trying to remember—or figure out—what she’s meant to next say. “So, uh, I’ll just open the floor to anyone who might want to say a few parting words to her, or tell stories to keep her memory alive.”

The young woman steps away, swaying lightly on her feet, leaving an opening for someone to then take her place.

Nancy shakes her head gently beside you. “A drunk to kick us off. Great.”

You turn slightly toward her. “Do you want to start everyone off? You don’t have to, since you spoke at her burial. I mean, you don’t have to anyway…”

She gently shakes her head. “No, I’ll do it. It should be someone who knew her. And who isn’t already under the influence.”

You and Steve stay seated as Nancy takes the vacated spot of the drunk girl.

Nancy clears her throat, then glances nervously to you and Steve before starting.

Sick fuck she’d called him.

She has no idea.

And the drunken cunt better watch it, or she’ll be next.

He shrugs slightly to only himself, knowing she wouldn’t be. Tina might’ve only been the beginning and the end, in truth. He’s just…not sure yet. There’d been something about it—the intimacy of being the only one present in her final moments; all that she could see, or hear, or feel—it’d been unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Something which had transcended this plane—empty and superficial it usually seems.

Or so he’d thought.

But to discover something more—something not typically seen by the naked eye—had taken ungovernable rage to achieve. Though, it had been calculated. Planned. At least in theory. But once they were there—just the two of them—in these very woods…it’d been a far heavier experience than he’d thought to prepare himself for.

The feeling he discovered… It was intoxicating. An absolute release and escape from the torment he’s been forced to endure and tolerate because he has no other recourse but to. Having absolute dominion over another and their bodily autonomy—over a woman—he’d be remiss to pretend at it having no sort of hold over him now.

But he’s sure that there must be another way to fill that void—to go about reaching that pinnacle again. One which doesn’t require that sort of repeated, bloody sacrifice.

It’s not that he sees human life as being sacred. He doesn’t. Not anymore. Not that he’s sure he ever did. But rather that he’s new at this and still yet unsure of himself. He can’t get cocky. Can’t allow it to swallow him whole. He needs to be cautious going forward. More cautious, that is.

He must take things in stride.

His vision flits to Nancy’s waifish form as he barely listens to the meaningless, mournful words leaving her lips.

He’s supposed to feel guilt. That’s what a normal person would be experiencing by now.

But he doesn’t. Not in the least. After all, she was the first to shed blood. To drive the knife of betrayal straight through him, leaving it forever lodged within his black, tarred soul. He was merely repaying the fact.

You feel tired. The warmth from the fire is gradually causing your body to relax and your mind to go hazy.

It’s been a long day.

You’d hoped to be in bed by now, but you know that you can always just sleep in tomorrow instead, if need-be.

You glance around, waiting for Nancy and Steve to return. He’d taken her somewhere nearby to relieve herself after finishing off her bottle of Coke once people’s condolences were through being paid. You don’t like being alone here, even if you’re surrounded by people.

You look so pretty tonight. What, with your skin all awash in a fiery glow and your heavy lids drooping sleepily over innocent eyes. You’re damn-near irresistable. Hell, you always are.

He likes how you don’t know it. That you wouldn’t have the first idea of how to use your body to your benefit against lesser men—lesser than him, that is.

He hasn’t always been so versed in salacious feminine wiles, but he’s learned. It’d taken quite some time to, but he inevitably did. And now—now he knows what he needs, as opposed to what he’d once thought he wanted.

He’s not pleased that you’re here tonight, however. You should know better. This isn’t you: a rule-breaker. Mischievous. But he knows who to blame for it: your presence in a place you ought not to be at to begin with.

Billy can tell that even now—even after earning himself a diploma and attending a nearby college—that little Pretty Boy Harrington still hasn’t wised up. He thinks…what? That if some psycho comes out of the woods, armed with God-knows-what, he’ll be able to protect you and Nancy both? He has no idea what he’s up against. None of them fucking do.

Billy smirks at the knowledge, and then he stands.

“This seat taken?” questions a baritone timbre to your right.

Slowly, you lift your head to gaze up at none other than Billy Hargrove. Your eyes trail downward from his smooth, tanned face, which is framed by golden-brown curls, to a sculpted chest advertised by a partially unbuttoned shirt, and then to blue jeans which cling to his muscled legs. You then proceed to follow his index finger—the rest of his hand is wrapped tightly around a bottle of beer—to the bit of empty wood next to you.

You glance across the way to where Nancy and Steve now stand chatting amongst themselves, then back to him, and you shake your head. “No.”

In truth, you have half-a-mind to tell him to piss off after the things you heard him saying at Tina’s funeral earlier in the morning.

You refrain, however.

It’s just like you to always keep your mouth shut when you have something to say.

You tell yourself you’re merely picking and choosing your battles. As if you’ve ever fought any to begin with…

He gives you a gentle smile, then seats himself next to you. Close enough that his thigh is now pressed up against your own. And fuck, if that isn’t enough to set his blood on fire.

He takes a drink, then tips the neck of the bottle toward you with a quizzical brow.

Unbeknownest to you, it’s a test. One which you promptly pass.

“No, thank you,” you reply while shaking your head, then lifting a water bottle for him to see.

He finds himself pleased with your response. “I didn’t know that you and Tina were close.”

You glance to Nancy across the way again before staring at the fire ahead once more. “She and Nancy were.”

He clicks his tongue. “I see. So you’re here for moral support, then?”

You nod.

He nudges you gently, forcing you to look at him.

“That’s sweet of you. The two of you’ve always been good friends, haven’t you?”

You nod yet again. “Since we were in kindergarten.” You look at him. “So all our lives.”

He studies you for a moment. “You looked really pretty—at the funeral.” He slides a feather-light hand down your back, not wanting to frighten you away like the skittish little fawn you are.

He knows it will take a patient, dexterous hand to reel you in and groom you properly—particularly for his own selfish wants and needs. That it will have to be a gradual process, even if he wants you all to himself now. Not later.

You shift beneath his gaze and he promptly removes his hand.

The two of you remain quiet for a moment, while Billy considers.

“You want to take a walk?”

Your head jerks back in Billy’s direction, sure that he can’t be serious. “No. I’m okay. Thanks, though…”

His eyes narrow slightly and he cocks his head softly to the side. “Why not?”

Your brows furrow. “Because it’s dark. And I mean…look where we are. The stretch of woods we’re in.”

He stands then and extends a hand toward you. “C’mon. You’ll be with me. I can keep you safe. Promise.”

He grins and gives you a wink that’s meant to make him seem charming. But the sight of his canines glinting against the firelight instills a different sort of sensation within you.

“I’m okay, Billy, really.”

His features shift. It’s so small a difference that you’re not sure you even trust your eyes—what you just saw. Perhaps it’s just the flickering fire playing tricks on you. Perhaps you’re just tired. Perhaps…

“There’s just something I want to show you. I think you’ll really like it.”

He’s always known you to be more amiable and submissive. He fights against his own bubbling displeasure at your disagreement.

His temper, at time goes on, is seemingly becoming harder and harder to keep a lid on.

You look to Nancy and fill with relief when you see she and Steve coming your way.

And then is when you stand, and he smiles, thinking he finally has you.

Until he’s promptly disappointed.

You keep your eyes trained on him, watching as his smile disappears at the company of your friends coming to join you. Encroaching on what should be his.

He’s so fucking sick of everyone and everything getting in his way.

Tina is only the beginning.

“Hey,” Nancy calls softly, coming to stand by your side. “You ready to head out?”

Billy steps closer to you. “I can take her home.”

All eyes come to focus upon him.

“If she wants to stay awhile longer, I mean,” he tacks on while shifting on his booted feet.

Nancy pulls you closer to her. “She’s staying at my house tonight. The next few, actually. So we’re headed to the same place. That’s nice of you to offer, though.”

Billy’s jaw flexes, but briefly. And then he relents. “You all enjoy your night, then. And be safe.”

He turns and circles the fire, gazing across the way into the deep, dark woods, feeling a familiar itch which he needs to tend to. Tonight. One of…self-gratification.

There’s few ways left for him to self-soothe now. Masturbation being chief among them. He’ll have visions of you to keep him company as he sees to his carnal needs this evening, at least.

He so anticipates when you will be the one physically helping him along, knowing exactly what he needs and how to give it to him by him only needing to give you a specific look, or a mere gesture.

He’ll train you so well. His perfect, innocent girl. He can hardly wait.

“What did Billy want?” Nancy asks with a sour tone while pushing bubbles around the bathtub.

You’d taken yet another shower yourself once the two of you snuck back into the house for the night—albeit a brisk one—wishing to wash the smell of woodsy smoke and mosquito bites from your body so you’d be clean when the two of you finally laid down to sleep. You’d both gone in through the front door, however, since the house was all dark when you got back, meaning everyone else had already gone to bed for the evening. No reason to risk breaking your necks climbing back up the side of the house and through a window again.

You rest your forearm along the side of the tub and shrug slightly. “He kept…asking me to go into the woods with him. He said he wanted to show me something.”

She sits up straighter then. “He what?” she asks, now thoroughly alarmed.

Your eyes flit to hers and she lies each of her warm, wet palms atop your forearm while proceeding to grip it securely. “Show you what?” she questions.

“We didn’t get that far. I told him no, and then you and Steve came over and we left. It’s just the way he was acting…the look on his face.” You lean back and shake your head. “I don’t know. Maybe I was seeing things that weren’t there because of the heat of the day, or exhaustion. Or maybe he’d just had too much to drink.”

She pulls the stopper from the drain and the tub begins to gurgle. “He’s never been one to keep it in his pants. Even today he was just looking to make another notch in his belt, I’m sure. I never understood what Tina saw in him.”

You fleetingly consider making her privvy to what you overheard Billy say about the girl in question at her own funeral, but decide against it. Nancy’s been through enough today.

You stand and hand Nancy a towel as she emerges from the tub, which she promptly wraps around her naked form.

“But you’d never be into someone like him,” she states while taking a smell step toward you.

You snort quietly. “He’s nice to look at, but, no, I very much doubt that.”

Nancy smiles. “Good.”

She’s most-certainly frightened.

Not that you blame her.

You know because, before turning in for the night, she set out an old star projector you haven’t seen since the two of you were ten or eleven years old.

You watch idly as various planets and solar systems make their way across the ceiling, stretching, then folding back in on themselves before circling around again and again.

Everything always comes full-circle.

You feel Nancy shift onto her side, and her hand comes to rest atop the crown of your shoulder. “I think I might take some flowers over to her grave tomorrow.”

You turn onto your side then as well to face her. “I’m sure Tina would like that.”

Nancy’s eyes flit between your own. “I always feel better when you’re here.”

You smile sleepily. “I’m glad.”

She glances away for a moment, and her expression changes to one that makes it seem as if she’s lost in thought. And then she returns her eyes to yours. “You never did answer me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. “Hm?”

“About if you think I’m pretty.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I doubt that you need me to tell you that you are, Nance.”

“But do you think I am?” she asks softly while moving closer.

“Y-yes, of course I do. Why?”

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, and then she does something entirely unexpected.

Nancy pulls herself flush against your body and proceeds to press her lips against your own.

The moment lasts for only that—a moment—before you pull away in shock. “Nancy, what’re y—”

“I’m sorry,” she immediately supplies while her eyes well with tears. “I just thought… That maybe you felt…”

She sniffles. “Please don’t be mad.”

You remain silent—your mind entirely blank.

You silently curse yourself for the sudden loss of words on your part. Because she’s staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something. Anything.

“It’s just…you’re with Steve. That’d be like—no, it would be—cheating.”

She nods slowly. “I know. I’m not…doing it to be unfaithful to him. I just… I’ve wanted to. For a long time. Especially today. Have you never wanted to…?”

“I’m…not sure. I don’t know.”

You suddenly feel doubtful toward yourself. Have you ever wanted to? Do you want to?

It doesn’t matter what the answer is. You won’t be inserting yourself into their relationship like this. You’re not that kind of person: a homewrecker, for lack of a better term.

She gingerly tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “He doesn’t have to know, Y/N.”

You stare back at her in disbelief. This isn’t the Nancy that you know. She’d never cheat. Steve has done nothing to deserve this.

“Nancy—”

“Just for tonight, please. Couldn’t we try?”

Try?, you want to say. Try what?

“Nancy, we’re both exhausted. You’ve been through a lot today. The past week, really. Let’s just go to sleep, okay? I’m not mad. I promise. Maybe I do feel…something. But you’re spoken for, like I said. And I don’t…” You shake your head. “Even if you weren’t, I wouldn’t want to risk ruining our friendship over something that could never last anyway.”

She winces.

And you fill with guilt.

“I think you know what I mean. No one would ever accept something like that. Not here. Not in a small town like Hawkins.”

Her chin wobbles. “I know. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”

You take one of her hands in yours. “It’s okay. I’m flattered, I think, if nothing else.”

She flushes. “Guess you know about my crush now…”

You begin to see recent moments spent with her in an entirely different light then. Like when you’d undressed after the funeral and she’d blushed at the nearly-naked sight of you. Or all the times she held your hand today. Or how she’d seemed even the least bit jealous about Billy having spoken to you this evening.

“Guess so,” you reply in a mere whisper.

The two of you grow quiet again momentarily.

“Could…you hold me?” she asks, while also preparing for rejection.

You give her a soft, reassuring smile. “Course.”

She wraps herself around you then while resting her head between your breasts. “Thanks.”

You close your eyes, ignoring your hammering heart, worried that she can hear it. “Welcome.”

It’s late.

And he shouldn’t be here.

Usually, when he wants to check up on you, he does so outside your house.

But you’re with her tonight.

So, here he sits across the street, staring up at Nancy Wheeler’s bedroom window instead.

He finds sleep difficult to find unless he’s looked in on you for the night. He’s made quite the habit of it for weeks on-end now. He’s just doing it to ensure that his darling girl is safe, that’s all.

Even if the only thing anyone in this town has to be afraid of now—most of all—is him. Especially a sweet young thing like yourself.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispers against the humid night air before turning his Camaro over and driving himself back home, ready to begin planning his next step.

· tagging list: @emilynissangtr @highsummon

[mscherub]

Operation: Kiss the Prefect

Azul Ashengrotto x Reader (Valentine’s Day Special <3)

Reader is gender neutral, referred to as Prefect, Y/N, or Shrimpy(by Floyd)

Tags: Fluff, romance, based off the boat scene in The Little Mermaid, funny

Warnings: Mentions of things in book 3; slight spoilers, spelling mistakes are very likely!

Blurb: Samuel(My Twisted ver. Of Sebastian) and Finn(My Twisted ver. Of Flounder) make up a plan, also including Sully(My Twisted ver. Of Scuttle), to get you and Azul together finally. Things happen and the Tweels find out. Based off the infamous boat scene and song “Kiss the Girl,” in The Little Mermaid :)

Azul is calculated, strong witted in every situation that he could possibly think of, a good trait to have, especially from where he originates. He was prepared with rebuttals and convincing phrases that got any poor unfortunate souls to bend to his whim and agree to his words, which, were always often fabricated, of course for the betterment of his business, don’t you know? Although, he overworks himself, and he rarely pays attention to other things in his life, just business, business, business, and more business, always focusing on it.

And honestly, this just ticked off two of the first year dorm members of Octavinelle. It really did! They watched their Housewarden sketch away at his contracts and focusing solely on money, and they know if they don’t give him a little push then he’ll only know his work for the rest of his life. A little push for what exactly? Well, it’s just so painfully obvious how much Azul likes you, the Prefect. It’s so easy to tell, yet he’s using his work as a distraction to hide his true feelings it seems.

They watch how he stumbles over his words when you talk to him willingly at any given time, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves as he nods along to your words. Of course he tries to plays this off, being all smug about certain topics if he’s well off in them, but the two students could see his inner turmoil, his reluctance to get closer.

Valentine’s Day was right around the corner, so this is the perfect time for Samuel and Finn to put their plan into action. They knew that you, too, also had the hots for Azul (Info heard from Grim who complained loudly after finding out). Sure he tried to rob you of your home, but that was in the past. He mentions you at least once everyday around the dorm, it’s different, especially with how he acts! They’ll use this to their advantage, after all, they did learn from the best.

Now, time to initiate mission: “Kiss the Prefect!” Well, try to, anyways.

Finn sits in Sameuls dorm room on his bed, watching as he writes down key points and factors on a whiteboard, the marker squeaking with each stroke. Samuel pauses and takes a step back, reading over the board before he shakes his head and erases his thoughts away once again

”Give me an idea…something not too cheesy, also something we can trick Azul into.” He sighs as he taps his foot.

Finn scoffs and he lays back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Yea…tricking him? He can see right through anything…also, I don’t know about this plan anymore.” He sits up and he leans back on his hands.

“What if it turns around on us and bites us in the ass like a piranha?” He sighs.

Samuel quirks an eyebrow and he sets his marker down and crosses his arms. “Look, this’d be the perfect thing for us to do. Don’t doubt it. It’s for Azul’s own good, more so ours, but that’s besides the point.”

“You know he’ll go against it if he finds out—“

“He won’t! Finn, we’ll make this plan impossible for him to decipher…the motto of our dorm is to help those who seem in distress…or something like that, whatever— we just need to think a little longer about it is all.” Samuel grabs his marker again and puts down a bullet point. “Give me a few ideas here…”

Finn purses his lips and he looks around the room as he takes the whole thing into consideration. “Ok…how about a boat ride? We tell Azul about the freshman marine biology course Crewel has us going through currently, and that if he helped out the Prefect it’d be a good way to get them indebted to him…is what I would say if Azul would actually consider the idea. There’s no way to get him to get close to the prefect on his own—”

“Ok, no…no, no, no, hold that thought! Finn you are something else…” Samuel hums as he hurriedly writes it down.

“Oh…that’s not— I wasn’t being serious about that.” He gets up from the bed and he walks over, watching the words flow down onto the board.

“No, serious or not, this idea will be good. We just have to figure out how to make it play out right, how to get the prefect on board, too. Azul will take more convincing.” Samuel smiles as he connects lines to other points, drawing arrows.

“Exactly. Getting him to go with the Prefect on his own. That won’t happen, you see how he acts around them, he’s so helpless!” Finn shakes his head, rolling his eyes at the mere thought.

“We’ll make our ‘cause’ sound convincing. And, the Prefect would be more open up to the idea if we told them. ‘Excuse me prefect, Azul offered to take you on a boat ride for the marine biology unit, without having to pay!’ Right? Sounds good? I think so…a little white lie doesn’t hurt.” Samuel draws a boat on the whiteboard.

“The Prefect isn’t stupid, Samuel…”

“Well we can try at least. Cmonnnn, think of some things!” Samuel pouts as his marker stops.

“Slow down…we still have time. A whole week, so…we’ll have plenty of time to get the finer details…just remember we have to avoid the twins…”

Samuel stops writing and he tense up, he sighs and he caps the marker. “We…we can worry about them later. They barley recognize us as apart of the dorm, so I bet they won’t even find out, I guarantee it.”

“They’re creepy…and they find out a lot of things, don’t even try me…” Finn shakes his head.

“Don’t be so scared.” Samuel nudges Finns shoulder with his own and smiles again. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“We die.”

“Ooook, chill out, that won’t happen.” Samuel sighs, his shoulders slumping as he looks at the other boy in front of him.

“You don’t know that!” Finn huffs.

“Ok…well, time and fate will tell. Who do you wanna deal with? The Prefect or Azul?” Samuel quickly changes the topic.

“Prefect.” Finn nods.

“Ok. Good to know. Then we can base our plan off of that. Get to thinking tonight! Remember, if we get them together then technically we have an advantage over Azul. We helped him score a hot date, so he’ll just have to pay us back.” Samuel smiles, chuckles and walks Finn to the door.

Hey, they’re Octavinelle students, after all.

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

Some more planning happened over the last few days and it’s finally time to initiate the ultimate plan, first convincing both sides, second, getting both sides to agree, then third, Samuel and Finn being the best wingmen imaginable and receiving the praise and glory, that’s at least what they’re hoping for.

The lounge is…technically closed at the moment, seats are flipped up on tables and the place has been cleansed to a spotless perfection, but more serious matters needed to be tended to.

“Ok, let’s act the scene out. Pretend I’m the prefect, you convinced me to come join you at the lounge for the project, bring up the topic about the unit, and we have to pray the Prefect will complain about it, but I will for the sake of practice. Your lines, ‘yea, I wish I could help you but I’m really busy the rest of the week so I can’t. Maybe ask someone else?’ Right? You got it?” Samuel sighs as he eyes Finn. Finn nods and he clears his throat.

He goes over to the table in the “empty” lounge, and he pulls out the chair for Samuel, then Finn sits down himself.

“Scribble scribble, sounds of fake studying, blah blah blah. And go!” Samuel hums.

“Man, Prefect, this new marine biology unit must be hard for you, huh?”

“Oh myyyy, yes! Totally! Maybe you could help me with it considering your from the coral sea?”

“Unfortunately I can’t. I’m super busy, you know? Over the weekend I have to go back home for a little so I can hang out with my totally real girlfriend, yes.” Finn nods, pursing his lips. “Maybe ask someone else? The twins maybe?”

“Bro, don’t even mention the twins that’ll scare the prefect, oh my seven.” Samuel sighs as he breaks character.

“Ok, sorry, I was just saying random things for the skit…” Finn’s shoulders slump.

Sounds of heels clicking against the ground cause the two to straighten up. They scramble to their feet but it’s already too late for them.

“Hmmmm? Little guppies are in the lounge, heh!” Floyd smirks as he sees the two, his teeth glinting in the dim lights.

“Uhhhh…”

“My, my, Floyd, what do we have here?” Jade chuckles lightly.

“Why are these fuckers up, ahhhhh…” Finn whispers as he inches slowly behind Samuel, which in turn causes him to stumble and glare at Finn as he tries to use him as a shield.

“Have you two failed to read the ‘closed’ sign? I don’t think Azul will fair well with finding out his own dorm members were sneaking in here at such late hours…” Jade sighs, shaking his head as if he is truly disappointed.

“There’s no way to lie our way out of this, huh…” Samuel’s voice is higher pitched and just a small murmur at this point.

“Precisely. Floyd, would you escort them—“

“WE KNOW THE WAY OUT THANK YOU!!!” Finn yelps as he books it to the door, Samuel in sync and a step behind him.

Floyd sighs and he leans back against the wall.

“Did ya hear what they were doing? Either they got some weird fetishes or they’re planning something…” Floyd hums.

“Indeed.” Jade nods.

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

You sit in class listening to Crewel’s usual small lecture before he sends everyone off to do their own thing. You go with your partner, Finn, and you start to go over the prospective material.

He awkwardly clears his throat, putting a fist to his mouth and looking at you. “So…you, uh, do you wanna come by the lounge later to study just a little more before the exam next Monday? I won’t be here for the rest of the weekend so…if you’d wanna.”

You weigh the option in your mind before you respond with a small nod. “Sure, I think I’m free. I don’t think Crowley has me doing much today, on Fridays he usually has me clean up most the gardens around the school.” You smile.

“I uh…I don’t think that’s something to be normal about— anyways, yea, ok, good.” He gives you a small nod. “Meet me after classes are over, we can walk to Octavinelle. Oh, and make sure you drop Grim off with your friends.”

“Uh, ok, that’s a little odd but sure.” You shrug.

"Uh, Azul implemented a new rule, no pets allowed..."

"Grim isn't a pet, though?"

"Oh, uh...better safe than sorry, oh, look at that, bell rang, see ya later, Prefect!" He hums as the bell rings and he picks up his books before leaving you alone. Grim floats over and puts his hands on his hip, already complaining about trivial topics of the day…

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

The lounge’s music is akin to a medley of upbeat Jazz and pop as you sit at a booth with Finn, sadly oblivious to the cards Finn and Samuel were playing to pull the strings so you and Azul would end up together.

Sully, a second year Savanaclaw student, was working in the lounge along with Samuel, having been told about this plan and he insisted on helping because he knew exactly what to do, being well versed in the topic of love, so he says.

“How are you gonna get Azul outa his office, gonna be a bit hard…” the tray in Sully’s hand wobbles as he walks along with Samuel.

“Just wait, will you?” Samuel shakes his head.

“So…Prefect. The marine biology unit…must be hard, huh? You know, since you’re not like from this world or anything and you’re not a mer.” Finn smiles awkwardly.

“It’s not…so bad.” You shrug. “It’s definitely hard but it’s not the end of the world, I’ve been drawn the short stick plenty of times so I’ll make do, though a little help wouldn’t hurt…” you nod thoughtfully. Close enough to what they were hoping you’d say.

“Ah, that’s too bad. I’d offer to help you more after today but I’m gonna be busy, I actually have to go back home…I’m sure someone else here could help. Oh, and Sam’d be busy, too. You have another option as well…but he’s a lil more iffy…” Finn drawls on. He looks back to Azul’s office to see Sully and Samuel acting out a scene, progressing closer to you two.

“Let me guess, Azul? As much as I think we’re on good terms, I don’t know if I should bother him for something like that…it’d be nice, though. And I also don’t exactly have enough credit built up from ordering to have a consultation with him.” You smile as you stir your drink.

Just when the moment goes quiet, the two other members of the team come by, bickering with each other and gaining the interest of the rest of the customers. You glance over at them, and out of the corner of your eye, see Azul standing behind your booth, watching them.

The two stop fighting and they walk away, leaving Azul to linger awkwardly.

“Hey, Azul.” You hum, looking down and hiding your reddened cheeks.

“Hello, Y/N…” he murmurs out

“Hey, Azul! I can’t be here to help tutor them over the weekend so I was thinking maybe you could step in! I’ll work extra hours, I promise, they were telling me how hard the unit was for them—“

“I never said—“

“I was actually gonna take the Prefect out on a boat and show them some of the marine life up close, easier to learn that way!” Finn beams, talking over you.

Azul tenses and he pushes his glasses up, looking at Finn incredulously. “I…I’m busy, I wouldn’t have time.”

“Azul, I think it would be quite beneficial, no? The Prefect would get to learn and you could boast your exponential knowledge of your home.” Jade smiles as he shuffles over silently.

“Yea! Cmon, I bet Shrimpy would love it…” Floyd chimes in.

You sit staring at all of them, and you can’t help but notice a questioning gaze to Finn’s eyes.

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

It was the weekend, and the only time you and Azul had free was towards the evening, so, here you are, sat uncomfortably on a small rowboat with Azul. He uses his magic to turn the oars and you pass under trees, the fireflies dancing around on the land in a hypnotizing pattern.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. The tension in the air thick and sickening.

“Ahem…this, this here is a sea turtle…”

“I can tell.” You sigh. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand, gazing at Azul who seems to be out of his comfort zone. It’s weird in a way. He shifts awkwardly and you see him gaze at the crystal blue water with a sense of reluctance.

Both of you blissfully unaware of anything else in the moment, Finn and Samuel are in their merforms, hiding along in the manatee and turtle grass, moving behind the cattails to listen in. This wasn’t going great, they knew they needed to do a little more to set the mood.

“Go time?” Finn asks.

“Go time. Now or never.” Samuel smirks and gives a thumbs up. He whips out his magic pen and he makes flowers nearby bloom, sparkling lights fill the surrounding air, and small, delicate splashes of water pop for an added sound effect.

The boat rocks slightly and with another boost of magic, the vessel is propelled forwards towards some wisteria trees along the edges of the lagoon, the purple strands of flowers reaching down and caressing the water.

Pelicans swoop by and create an opening by moving some of the long strands out of the way and allowing the boat to go on by. Samuel smiles and he slips his magic pen away, going down and grabbing some kelp to use as a baton.

“Finish the rest, Finn. Gotta make sure the wildlife around here can add in some natural music for us.”

Finn swims off with a nod and he swims around the boat, causing various rippled patterns to form on the surface.

“Does marine life usually do this?” You sigh out due out of disbelief, hunching over and looking over the edge. “It’s…oddly sweet in a way, no?” You glance back at him, leaning forwards and scooting to the edge of your seat to be closer.

“This isn’t right.” He crosses his arms, looking around with distaste.

“Oh…Never mind that, then.” You lean back. Great, now the mood was soiled again. Again, Finn just has to give a helpful push, right?

Finn sighs and he gently nudges the boat, rocking it and causing both of you to move closer, your faces merely inches apart. His glasses slip down and he looks surprised to now be so close.

You both blush and Azul quickly straightens up, coughing into his fist and gripping the edge of the boat. “Must’ve been a shark…”

“Maybe…” you murmur, nodding along to his words.

You look back at each other and you can’t help but smile at how stupid he looks. Usually he was a well put together business man, but now? He looks so out of it, stupid with his tinted pink cheeks. You scoot closer again and you fix his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear.

He turns as still as a statue and looks at you with widened eyes. “Ah…”

“Thanks for this whole thing, I guess. I bet it’s not something you really wanted to do, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” You retract your hand. “I’ve learned a good bit, and plus, I get to see this weirdly unnatural but beautiful sight with you.”

No! So close, sooooo close! Finn rolls his eyes and he decides to let the moment play out on its own for now until intervention is needed again.

He nods and he fixes up his uniform tie, looking away. “I agree…afterwards for payment, I’d suggest just working a shift or two at the lounge. Is that acceptable for your schedule?”

“Really?” Finn shakes his head yet again.

“I guess so…thanks, again.”

“It’s nothing, really. This was simply a trifle, don’t worry.” He sighs.

You both lock eyes again and a lightbulb seems to go off. You reach your hands over to his, holding them palm up and offering them to him. He responds and tentatively places his hands in yours.

“Hey…can I maybe tell you something? I just…don’t want to ruin our friendship with what I’m about to say, well, I mean if you even consider us friends, you know?” You sigh, your cheeks bright red at this point as you look down to see fish swimming by.

“Why wouldn’t I consider you that? You’re a great asset to me— I mean…more than that I suppose…” the last part of his sentence is a quiet mutter, his hands tightening around yours.

“Azul, I like you, as crazy as it is to say. I can’t really hide it anymore. I don’t know what it is about you…”

His hands tremble and he purses his lips, looking like he’d literally blow up any second now out of embarrassment, happiness, longing, yearning, relief, who knows…You wait for a response, yet a verbal one never leaves, instead he leans forwards and he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Are we sealing the deal then? I dunno, sounded like something you’d say.” You smile, which in turn causes him to as well.

You both lean in, your lips centimeters apart and your eyes closed, the sweet ocean breeze and the mix of his cologne filling your senses in the best way imaginable. The moment felt surreal.

Finn giggles quietly and smiles, completely giddy as he watches the romance finally bloom and take off. He gets ready to cheer, but the cute moment is short lived as he watches two long shadows swim by in the water beneath the boat. The boat rocks then tips over, sending you and Azul both into the water.

You pop back up above the water, using your arms and legs to keep you afloat as you take a few gasps of air.

“Azul?” You huff as you look around, swimming over to the more shallow edge of the lagoon.

Azul slowly peeks his head up out of the water, his skin turned to his purple-grey hue which was common in his merform. Your eyes meet his and you relax, moving over to him.

“You ok?”

“Seems so…”

You look at him and you can’t help the bubbles of laughter that escape your mouth from the absurdity of the situation. He ducks down below.

“Hey, ‘zul, I wasn’t laughing at you…”

You take a breath and you move your head below, opening your eyes and looking at him as he sulks. You put a hand on his shoulder and he looks over at your smiling face.

“This was ruined…” the water muffles his voice and you gently tug him up, bobbing back up to the surface with your hand grabbing his arm.

“Say that again?”

“The moment. It was ruined, I wasn’t watching my magic while turning the oars…”

“No. It’s fine! I wasn’t laughing at you, just at us falling in. Geez. Come here.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and you press a kiss to his lips, a small squeak emanating from his throat as his eyes widen then relax, eventually fluttering closed. He wraps his arms back around you and you can feel his tentacles grip your legs, a subconscious action of his. You both pull away after a moment, stupid fulfilled smiles on your faces.

“Do I still have to work shifts at the lounge for this?”

“I don’t suppose so…consider the kiss to be payment…”

“I’m lucky I didn’t have to sign a contract to kiss you. You’ve come a long way.” You pat his back.

“Really? I didn’t think you’d think of me to stoop that low.” He looks at you with an unamused expression.

Splashing of water can be heard from behind you and you see Jade and Floyd’s heads pop up. Floyd comes up behind you and pries you off of Azul, giving you a big squeeze.

“Awwwwww! Looky! You and Azul are so cute, but me and Jade got bored, took too long.” He giggles.

“And we thought it’d be nice of us to give you a gentle push in the right direction is all.” Jade nods along with his pointer finger and thumb gently grasping his chin.

“Thanks?” You sigh.

“Of course, Shrimpy! Heh!” He holds you tighter and does a small spin in the water. “Don’t get jealous, Azul.” He winks at him.

“You two are insufferable.” He face palms and shakes his head.

“Quite the contrary.” Jade smirks widely.

Finn and Samuel stay off in the distance, heads hung in despair. “How’d they find out?”

“I don’t know. Now they’re taking credit for our idea!”

“It was probably Sully, that loud mouth.” Samuel sighs. “Shouldn’t have let him in on the plan.

“Exactly. Your fault.”

“Mine? Don’t start with me Finn—“

(Finn and Samuel never got the recognition they hoped for…in fact Jade and Floyd got it all. How did they even hear of the plan? After catching them in the lounge the one night they did their own little investigation and discovered their plan…Sully is still blamed by Samuel…justice for Sully, y’all)

AHHHHH! I’m done! I fear I may have lost track like halfway through, but it’s ok…I like how it ended at least. Also you could tell I was getting restless while writing this cause my sentences kept getting shorter…Thanks for reading, my lovelies!

Requests are open if yall have any Valentine’s Day Ideas!

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures/GIF belongs to Disney but is edited by me :)

Bonus photo that I edited:

[scorpioriesling]

OML so good things come it groups of three has had me in a headlock and I don’t want to escape. I have trieddddddd so very hard to find scraps of smth like it and I found nothing😔. So here I am wondering if we the people can get another Liam/Ridoc/Bodhi (or another combination of fw guys if ur feeling silly) x Reader PLEASE 🙏. If you wanna make it a part two or a whole new thing idc Ill eat whatever you give me your writing is AMAZING.

-🎀Anon

Good Things Come in Groups of Three (Round 2)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Liam x Ridoc x Bodhi x reader

Warning(s): 18+, mdni, smut

Summary: Studying in the library late at night has your mind wandering… you can blame it on the time of night, the lack of sleep, or simply being alone. Regardless of the excuse, you can’t seem to put those 3 boys out of your mind.

SR’s Note: Thank you for your patience, queen. (; I hope this part 2 measures up to your expectations!! Also, I don’t want to spoil anything, but I do have this group of 3 + reader involved once again!! It’s only a draft right now for Kinktober… so you definitely don’t want to miss out!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Your eyes roved over the text, trying to commit it to memory. Jesinia had done you a solid, pulling some of the best tomes for you to study before your test on Friday. Her expertise not only a scribe, but as your friend just might be what saved your grade.

If you could keep your mind from wandering, that is.

You'd caught yourself thinking, more than once, about the utterly insane predicament you'd found yourself in last week. It seemed that every time you turned a page in the textbook, images would race through your mind, each one as dirty as the last.

Liam fucking you in the shower.

Sitting atop Ridoc's face.

Bodhi's dick filling your throat.

...fuck.

You shake your head, the memory only sending more uncomfortable sensations to your core. This wasn't the time, nor the place -- nowhere, would ever be the time or place again. That was a one and done deal; one you'd be much too embarassed to repeat.

As your palms press into your eyes, you turn your attention to the wall clock, trying to make out the numbers it read.

11:57 pm.

Dammit, you hadn't wanted to be here this late. Perhaps all the reading and pouring over the material was good though, as you felt much more prepared for your upcoming exam. However, you'd failed to notice everyone emptying out of the library over the past few hours.

Your breath catches as you glance around, the dark silence of the hall sending a shiver down your spine. You were right, no one was here at this hour; it was simply you, and the stacks of books.

Book stacks you wouldn't mind being fucked against.

Okay, you really had to stop.

Glancing around once more, you slunk down into your chair a little lower, your fingers slowly leaving the table in favor of tracing along your leather pants. The pressure was getting unbearable, every moment of your past rendezvouz replaying in your mind as your panties grew wetter and wetter.

Ridoc's dick felt so good when he made you ride him.

You unzipped your leathers, your fingers slowly making their way underneath. A sigh escapes your lips as your fingertips brush your clothed clit, moving in small circles atop your panties.

Fuck... the sight of Liam jerking off to you too.

A soft whimper leaves your lips, your eyes widening into slits as you glance around one more time. You just had to make sure, certainly, that no one was in here.

Oh Gods... and Bodhi, spanking your ass-

"You do know this is a, public, space, don't you?"

Your eyes fly open, the figure standing just in the shadows of the nearby bookshelf causing your heart to race. Your hand flies from your pants as you shimmy in your chair, working to rezip.

"O-oh my Gods, uhm, oh my Gods-" you fumble, your vision blurred in embarassment as you stare down at your pants. Why wouldn't the damned zipper just fucking work, already?

Your breath hitches as a large, tanned hand moves atop yours. Your cheeks deepen in color, chest still rising and falling as the adrenaline courses through your veins.

"As your trainer," Bodhi says, his voice low. "I'd tell you to fix yourself, and send you to your dorm to finish this matter in private. Alone."

Your eyes slowly look up, meeting his darkened brown ones as he glares at you.

"But, as an interested party, I'm going to tell you to keep going."

You loose a shaky breath, his unforgiving stare a cross between anger and intrigue. You open your mouth to speak, but Bodhi's hand pushes your shoulder back against the back of the chair.

"Don't say a word, Y/N -- you got caught being a bad, bad girl." He tuts, leaning back to sit in the chair next to you. "Now, you answer to me."

You gulp, staying put as he stretches his legs out before him and gets comfortable, folding his muscled arms over his chest. He couldn’t possibly be serious!

"Keep going." He bites out, and you stare at him wide-eyed.

He scoffs. "What, now you can't hear, either? I said keep going." Your fingers fuddle with the waistband of your pants, shaking as you shove your leathers down to your knees.

"Mhm... play with that pussy, like the bad girl you fuckin' are."

Your fingers find your clit once more, the pleasure mounting in your core as Bodhi's eyes are glued to your every move. In an attempt to stifle your moan, your lip catches between your teeth, muffling the whimper. He's hovering over you in an instant, his hand braced against the back of your chair as his lips move mere inches from yours.

"Why so quiet tonight, hm?" He taunts, and you glare up at him as a wave of defiance rushes through you.

"B-because... it's a.. library." You grit out, failing to think of any other comeback. He laughs, full and unabashedly as he shakes his head low, his eyes meeting yours once more.

"You didn't seem to care that this is a library when you started playing with your cunt, though." He draws in a breath, his gaze flickering between your underwear and your face. "Bad riders don't get rewarded, Y/N... they only get punished."

Your heart races as two more figures appear from the shadows, their hungry gazes trained on you and your minstrations. A small swallow in fear is all Bodhi needs before his hands grip at your waist, hauling you atop the table and sending the books scattering to the floor.

"B-Bodhi... what-"

"Ohh, don't act like this isn't what you wanted," Ridoc sneers from beside you. He leans casually against the bookshelf, the obvious tent in his pants indication that maybe he wanted this to happen too.

"Oh, she wanted it alright," Bodhi huffs, grabbing your pants and roughly yanking them down your legs. He shucks your boots off, tossing them over his shoulder before ripping your pants over your feet. "Caught her playing with herself all alone in here."

Liam tsks, flanking the other side of the table as he watches in faux-disappointment. Had they all arranged this? Had they known you'd be in here?

"I-I..."

"Keep your mouth shut," Bodhi demands, yanking his own pants down just enough for his enormous erection to spring free. Your mouth waters at the sight; you'd forgotten how damn big he was.

"You're gonna work off this little violation, alright?" He chuckles, pulling you to the edge of the table so just your ass hung off the wood. His hand wraps around his cock, pumping it twice before sliding it against your soaking folds. You whimper, and he glares down at you.

"And... you'll be quiet if I say so, alright?" He chuckles, pressing the tip of his dick against your hole. "This is, after all, a library."

The sound threatening to erupt as he slides all the way in can only be described as nothing short of a deafening scream. He pushes himself all the way in, his pelvis flat against your thighs as you try and keep your noises at bay. Wasting no time, he yanks his cock out, only to slam back in with so much force that a small wail breaks free.

"Fuck... tight as fuck Y/N," he comments, speeding up as he fucks himself into you. "Squeezing my goddamned dick, baby."

You moan, the sound mixed with the creaking of the table beneath you. Bodhi's breaths come out in short pants above you, his gaze locked onto where his thick length is pounding into you.

"I... oh Gods," you cry out, your heaed turning to the side as you catch sight of Liam beside you. His tongue rakes across his bottom lip, his own cock hardening beneath his palm. The sight alone could make you cum, especially with the way Bodhi is pounding into you-

"Don't you dare cum," he growls, his hands bracing against your hips as he shoves you closer to him. Your gaze switches back to him as he leans over you, each stroke faster than the last as he barely pulls out anymore. "You're not cumming... not fucking yet."

You whimper as his mouth falls open above you, his eyes half-lidded as his thrusts grow sloppy. Your own impending orgasm has built up, threatening to burst any moment inside of you.

"B-Bodhi-"

"Fuck!' He shouts, your skin flush against his as his cock jumps, pumping his release inside of you. His breathing is heavy, his chest moving rapidly underneath the restraint of his zipped flight jacket. Your face twists in frustration, the heat in your lower tummy already receding as he yanks his cock out of you, a trail of clear semen following.

Sitting up on your hands, you only catch your breath for a minute before Liam saunters toward you, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His hands grip your knees, forcing your legs apart as you try and squeeze them together.

"You're not getting off that easy tonight -- I hope you've realized that."

You stare up at the gorgeous male; a dark, starved look crossing his features as he peers down at you. Your chest heaves as he slowly sits before you, only taking perch on the edge of the chair.

Goosebumps erupt across your skin as he leans forward, his lips mere inches from your glistening cunt -- and blows a stream of cool air across your skin. You clench around nothing, the sensation both extremely erotic and frustrating at the same time.

"Liam, please-"

"Ahh ahh," Bodhi tuts, leaning agaist a nearby table. "I said no mouthing off tonight, remember?"

Liam's dimple pops as he smiles, his handsome features only making you wish your cunt was pressed against his lips. You lie back down as he licks his lips once, his fingers softly trailing along the skin of your thighs. You whimper as he continues toying with you, barely able to keep your writhing at bay.

"Is this... what you want?" He says quietly, as his forefinger presses against your clit. You gasp, sitting up on your forearms to look down at his smug expression.

"Yes... oh Gods, please yes-" You grit out, as his digit slowly circles your clit. You squirm against the touch, wishing for more as he slides his finger around your sensitive bud.

"This isn't about you, though." He says, chuckling as he retracts his finger. He glances up at you before rising between your legs, his hands gripping your waist to flip you over onto your stomach. You gasp as your chest presses against the flat wood, and your stomach drops at the sight before you.

Ridoc stands on the other side of the table, his hand fisting his cock furiously as he gazes down at you.

"Open."

It's all you need to hear before widening your mouth, laying your tongue out flat just like he'd like it.

"Fuck... been waiting for this for damn near a week," he complains, slapping his length against your wet muscle. You squeak in pleasure as you feel Liam behind you, his fingers circling your pulsating opening.

"So wet, baby," he coos, as his ring and middle finger plunge into your aching pussy. He plunges them in, again and again-- the embarassing squelch of your vagina gripping his digits bringing a flush to your cheeks.

Ridoc's free hand caresses your chin, guiding his hard length to your awaiting mouth. You suck in a breath as he sinks his cock in, pushing it to the back of your throat as he groans. Gagging around him, he retracts, shoving back in moments later.

"Gods, Y/N -- you've been saving up for us, hm?" You hear the grin in Liam's voice, your cunt pulsating as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. Unable to speak as Ridoc continues fucking your mouth, you only groan in response.

Liam curls his fingers, the tips rubbing against the sensitive spot inside -- you feel as though you'll explode. You huff out a breath, tears forming in your eyes as Ridoc continues assaulting your throat. The combined sensations are too much, your orgasm building with each minstration.

"It's a good thing you're so sexy," he laughs, patting you on the cheek with his free hand. "You've been on my mind all week, baby."

Liam retracts his fingers, and you cry out in frustration. Ridoc pulls out too, the emptiness on either end leaving you hot, bothered, and again, unreleased.

"Don't worry," Ridoc chuckles. "We still have more we want from you."

He appears on the opposite side of the table, standing where Liam just was, his open palm landing a harsh slap against the meat of your ass. You whine, only wishing he'd pleasure you more.

You don't have to beg much.

His hands clench around your hips, drawing you up onto your knees and forearms on the table. You wail again as he spanks you, clenching only when you feel his erection slapping against your cunt.

"You want me, huh?" He teases, landing another slap when you don't respond. "You want me to fuck you?"

You scream in pleasure, glancing behind you to watch as he slides his cock in.

"Yes, please Ridoc! Please fuck me-"

Your words are cut short as a hand wraps around your throat, yanking your head to look before you. Liam chuckles, his hands quickly finding your breast as he stands beside Bodhi -- who's guiding his cock to your lips.

"I told you," he grumbles. "Bad girls... have to be quiet."

He shoves his length in, choking you as he pushes down your throat. Liam pulls your hair, keeping your mouth in place as Bodhi fucks his dick down your raw throat. Ridoc pants from behind you, his girth reaching unimaginable depths inside your quaking pussy.

"You like that, huh?" Bodhi shakes his head, plunging his cock deeper in your mouth. "Like taking my cock while Ridoc fucks you?"

Another wave of pleasure racks your bones, the feeling of their dicks in two of your holes almost more than you can take. You gurgle around Bodhi's length as Ridoc's balls slap against your clit, heightening your senses even more.

"Can't... can't take much more," you garble out, and Liam's fingers pinch your nipple.

"You'll take, what we give you."

You squeak, tears threatening to spill over as you try your hardest to keep your orgasm at bay. Your walls clench around Ridoc's big cock, each thrust pushing you closer, and closer...

He cums with a gasp, hot ropes of his release splattering across your ass. He heaves as he squeezes your right buttcheek, his spent cock resting against the other. Bodhi grits his teeth before releasing as well, his seed spraying down your throat. He yanks his cock out, and Liam moves to hold your jaw as you muster a cough.

"Swallow it all," he commands, and you do as your told. Bodhi retreats, resting lazily in a chair as the aftermath of his orgasm washes over him.

If only you could feel the same.

You gulp down his salty-sweet taste, your muscles growing tired after your night of pleasure. Well... as much pleasure as you were allowed, orgasm-denial and all.

Liam pulls you off the table, holding you upright as he slowly backs you into one of the shadowed bookshelves. You groan again as he kneels before you, Bodhi and Ridoc flanking your either side.

"We've had our fun with you... do you think you deserve to cum?"

You nod your head at his sultry words, and he doesn't even look away from your glistening pussy as he speaks to the other two.

"Do you think she deserves to cum?"

Bodhi tuts while reaching for your chest, openly palming your left breast.

“I suppose she’s been quite good for us tonight.”

Liam nods in agreement, his lips pressing a single kiss against your folds. Your hips involuntarily buck in protest, a short moan coming out as Ridoc rolls your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Shhhh.. patience, baby.”

His voice alone could get you off, such contrast to his usually irritating tone.

Liam’s tongue flicks out, swiping across your cunt as he rolls his thumb over your clit. You squirm, your breaths coming out in quick bursts.

“L-Liam I… won’t last long-“

He chuckles, the vibration edging you further. Ridoc replaces his fingers with his mouth, leaning in to suck and mark your right breast with his teeth. You lean your head back against the shelves, the feeling of ecstasy finally within reach.

“You wanna cum, Y/N?” Bodhi’s breath skates across your skin, goosebumps arising just below your ear as he squeezes your breast partially hard.

“Such a little tease with these gorgeous things,” he continues, and you begin shaking, the feeling of the orgasm within reach.

“Oh FUCK, I’m-“

Ridoc’s hand claps over your mouth as Bodhi holds you upright. You tremble and shake atop Liam’s tongue, the pent up energy from all night finally reaching its sweet release. Liam’s hands reach around and squeeze your ass, holding you in place as you cum on his lips.

“Anybody in here?”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat quickening as you hear the male guard’s voice ring out through the otherwise empty library. Your eyes meet Bodhi’s, and he holds a single finger to his lips. Shh.

“Hello?”

The voice calls again, and the three of you stand in silence against the darkness from the shelves. After a few minutes, the entry door opens and closes once more, and you finally release a breath.

“Well… that was close,” you laugh, the first real sentence you’d uttered in hours. Surely the sunlight would be peeking through the windows anytime now…

You step toward your discarded clothes, making to grab them and put them on when a strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you tightly against a very bare, very toned chest.

“Oh come on — you didn’t think we were actually finished here, did you?”

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: random word prompts with jin, tohma, luca, kaito, alan, sho, and leo!

COMMENT: i made tohma a magician lol. ALAN GOT ANGST IM SORRY

tagging @amaribelt for luca!!

Jin - Option

“Which one do you want?”

You stare, dumbfounded, at the mass of formal wear on the rack in your room, all different colors and shapes and sizes. Jin stands in the midst of it all, arms crossed over his chest and an expectant eyebrow raised.

“You...for me?” you point at him and then back at yourself lamely, mouth hanging open.

“Just pick one.” he says, gentle despite the ice in his tone, “I want to know what you’ll be wearing tonight so I can match.”

Oh. Right, the dance tonight. You’d almost forgotten with all of your inspector work.

“Thank you.” you murmur, hesitantly reaching out to touch them.

“It’s no problem.” he says.

Tohma - Lily

Hand in hand, you twirl.

The blue fabric of your outfit brushes against Tohma, and for once he isn’t bothering to keep his distance. His hand burns where it touches your waist, his eyes glinting even behind the monocle. You can tell he’s keeping track of your state, catching you when you slip and leading you when you stumble.

Formal dances have never been your scene, but you’ve always been willing to try for him.

When the music stops and the couples disperse, Tohma stands by your side, leading you to the refreshments table and grabbing you some water.

“You dance beautifully,” he says.

“You were a wonderful lead.” you compliment him back before gulping down the water.

His eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles, and you find yourself smiling back.

“One last thing.” he whispers, leaning in closer.

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand reaches past your ear—

And he produces a flower.

A pristine white lily, no less.

New beginnings.

You can’t help but wonder what new beginning he sees in you.

Luca - Horizon

The breeze is soft against your face as your baby hairs tickle your cheeks. The birdsong fades as the sun creeps lower behind the horizon, oranges and yellows and pinks dying in the sky. You turn to Luca and become warm when you meet his gaze, his hand over yours.

“Did you have fun today?” he asks.

He sounds so soft, like he’s telling you a secret. He almost sounds scared you’ll say no.

“Luca.” you lean over, placing your other hand overtop of his and squeezing, “I had the best time.”

He ducks his head but fails to hide his smile, boyish and tender and so him. It sets your heart ablaze and you scoot closer and closer until your thighs are touching. Your head hits his shoulder and he rests his head against you in return, almost thankful.

Reverent.

Kaito - Rational

“Kaito!” you huff, grabbing his forearms, “How dense are you?”

He stops yelling at Luca immediately, mouth hanging open at your forceful touch. His cheeks are bright pink and he’s stunned.

“Luca is not putting the moves on me! If anyone has been putting moves on anyone it's been me trying to get you to notice how into you I am!” you scold.

As you shake him violently, Luca politely excuses himself, making his way towards the stacks to give the two of you some privacy.

“Wait! Hold on, what did you say!?” Kaito shrieks, voice cracking at his shock, “You’re into me!?”

“Yes!” you sigh heavily, glaring up at him, “How dense are you?”

His lip flap some more before he can squeeze another sentence out.

“Are...are you sure? Am I dreaming!?” he fumbles for his uniform jacket, yanking the sleeve up his forearm and pinching himself violently.

“Kaito! Be gentle with yourself.” you swat his hand away.

“Oh, it’s fine, don’t worry about me, I’m sorry—Eeek!?”

You kiss where he pinched himself, and Kaito just about falls to his knees.

Oops.

Alan - Notebook

Alan doesn’t mean to scare you. It’s the last thing he wants, really.

Which is why he apologizes profusely when he manages to creep up behind you as you scribble sentence after sentence in that notebook of yours, his eyes snagging the last few words and oh they send his heart racing.

I think I’m in love with him.

He feels lighter than he has in years, but he squashes the feeling. He greets you gruffly and sits beside you, not missing the sigh of relief you let out. You cram your notebook back into your bag and he presses his lips together.

“Hey Alan!” you laugh nervously, using your elbow as support as you slump against the table, “What brings you here?”

You bring him here. Is that not obvious?

“I need to study. It’s quiet here.” he says instead.

He hopes he’s the one you’re in love with.

Sho - Infection

Sho has never looked more unimpressed with you.

You shrink away from his gaze, a tissue bundled up against your nose. You side eye him hard as you blow your nose, directing all of your animosity at him and hoping he doesn’t notice your shame.

“You don’t have to look at me like that.” he snorts.

You glare harder. He sighs.

“I’m sorry for laughing at you. Will you forgive me if I make you some soup?” he kneels by your side, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You sniffle and nod.

Sho laughs again, this time softer.

“Okay. Wait here for me, alright?” he says.

“I’m not going anywhere like this anyway...” you gripe.

Leo - Month

“Huh? Do I know what day it is?” Leo parrots your question back lamely, eyes glued to his phone.

“Yeah...? It’s sort of important.” you huff.

He hums, scrolling through various short form videos. You lean over his shoulder to recapture his attention, but he hides his phone all too quick.

That makes you suspicious.

“What are you hiding?” you tease, bumping your body against his.

He sputters and whacks you back, glaring at you.

“Can you not act like a brute for two seconds?” he hisses, “I didn’t plan this fucking party for your birthday just to get this treatment.”

You freeze. Leo keeps walking. He grumbles something under his breath and starts scrolling on his phone again.

You have to speed walk to catch back up with him.

“You planned a birthday party for me?” you ask, not quite believing what you heard.

“Of course I did.” he rolls his eyes, “I’m not stupid enough to forget something like that.”

[numberonetacostan]

(What I have for) Feral Taco :3

Hello my friends!!!^^ Here is the long post to go along with the drawing of feral taco I made the other day because people showed interest!!! :D It made me so very happy. I apologize if this au isn’t as neatly put together as some others I’ve posted, I straight up did not expect to be typing this out. I thought this would be an au that stayed in Loomy’s daydreams but then people asked so here we are!!! :) Please enjoy!!!!

So Taco’s mental health is absolutely awful after Mic leaves her. Just terrible. So bad. And instead of teleporting away with Mepad’s comatose body after Mic quits the game, she just… gives up. Leaves him there, and walks back to her home in the woods, which I like to think of as being on the other side of the island. Judging from the map we see Mepad display in episode 14, the forest stretches out nearly to the other end of the island, yeah? I tend to think Taco only goes to the edge and area closer to the hotel to meddle in the competition and talk to Mic. As for her actual living space, it’s much easier to stay hidden deep in the forest on the side of the island that everyone else doesn’t live on. So that’s where Taco is. Alone. For quite some time. Season 3 happens, season 2 ends (Without the disaster that the finale was, solely because it doesn’t work well with the timeline of this au. So, uh, Cobs tripped and fell off of MeCloud and caught on fire and died. Suitcase decimated Knife in uh. Jump rope contest. Or something. Good with everyone? Good.), and the show has been on hiatus for a good few months, as a nice break for the cast before season 4 starts. Other than Taco, who has just been alone and getting worse for quite some time now. 

SO! The bulk of this would start around the time that said hiatus will be ending, all the contestants are at the hotel, including those who normally live on Paradise Island, because Mephone is getting ready to announce the next season, including who’s going to be participating! (They still don’t know he made them. This is about TACO. We’re not doing finale stuff here.) Most importantly, out of all of said contestants, are Bot and Goo. This is a Loomy AU you thought there’d be no propaganda in here? No. Taco will form relationships with whoever I please. So, Bot and Goo being Bot and Goo, go and play in the woods!! They’re exploring!! Having fun!! Playing tag, hide and seek, and enjoying nature!!! They stay relatively close to the hotel, for safety purposes, but end up going just a tad too deep into the woods as it’s getting dark. And it’s not called the Perilous Woods for no reason, hm? There’s some real Perilous stuff in there!! It could be a bear, a big snake, a wolf, a dragon, whatever you please since we lack a real world would-be location of Inanimate Island and thus we don’t really know what sort of wildlife would be there. I mean, I have a theory or two, but that’s not the point. Anyways, Bot grabs Goo and bolts. Neither of them are particularly edible, but they can’t be recovered by MeLife and would rather neither of them get maimed, yeah?

They get away from the danger, yay! But now they’re quite lost. Not yay. And now it’s become evening, so it’s dark. Bot does glow in the dark, at least their plush does, but we’ve seen how dark that forest can be during the day in episode 9. They’re nowhere near bright enough to see more than a foot or so ahead of them. And with how dense it is, it wouldn’t be easy for them to extend their legs and look back towards where the hotel is. So, to reiterate, they’re very lost in the thick, dark forest. Not good. Spooky noises all around, two very scared little guys. Especially when they hear rustling in the bushes, coming closer. And closer. And closer. And out from the darkness, they see a single eye staring at them, and scream!!! Until a flashlight is clicked on, and a very confused and unimpressed Taco is looking at them. She’s significantly more crack than she was the last time anyone (Mic) saw her, with one of her eyes whited-out and unseeing, but it’s definitely her!! And she’s holding some fishies skewered on a stick!!! Remember the fishies they’ll come back. 

Now, I don’t think Goo would really know much about Taco, if he knows about her at all, but Bot would definitely have heard about her, at least by virtue of having Fan as a Dad. But! They are very lost, and Taco is kind of their only option here!! So Bot asks her for help!! They’re lost, and need to get back to the hotel. Taco doesn’t really respond, but just sort of continues on where she was walking. Bot tries to get her attention again, but she doesn’t say anything. Once she reaches the bottom of a large shrub though, she holds the bushes open behind her, indicating that they should follow. So it seems like she’s gonna help them get back!! Bot and Goo both try to talk to her while they’re walking, but she doesn’t say anything back. Just keeps looking ahead, occasionally stopping to listen out for any potential predators. After a bit of walking, though, it turns out that she hasn’t led them back to the hotel. She pushes the top off of a stump, and points down, indicating for the two of them to go inside. Obviously, when a disheveled homeless woman you only know through tales that don’t paint her in a good light wants you to go down into a mysterious hole, you would not be too keen on doing so. 

So, Goo is spooked, and Bot’s not liking it either, so they insist Taco lead them back to the hotel. Taco shakes her head, and points down into the stump again. They insist again, Taco points again. They get nowhere, until Bot gets fed up, and turns around to try and search for the hotel on their own again, to which Taco stops them, and finally speaks. And it’s pretty obvious why she wasn’t talking before, because her voice sounds awful. Taco hasn’t spoken at all since Mic left. Why bother? She doesn’t have anyone to talk to, and she’s too upset to be talking to herself. So, her voice is quite hollow and hoarse, when she tells Bot that it’s too dangerous. The hotel is too far, and there’s too high a risk they won’t make it with all the perilousness in the Perilous Forest. If Taco, who’s lived there for years were to go, it would be one thing, but with Bot and Goo? Who are in the forest for the first time? No good. She’ll take them back once the sun’s come up, but for now it’s safer for them all if they take shelter for the night. 

Bot isn’t connected to MeLife, and Goo would quite frankly be happy to not be in the scary dark forest, so they concede and go down into Taco’s hidey hole house with her. It’s… well it sucks. It’s just a big hole. There’s a pile of leaves and moss. Uh. There’s a couple lemons. That’s uh. That’s it. Goo is trying to be a nice little fella, as he is, but he can’t really think of anything particularly nice to say, so he just ends up saying “This is a …place you got here!!” Taco is not amused. She sits down on the dirt floor and gestures to the moss/leaves pile. It’s relatively untouched, since although it was where she used to sleep, she hasn’t slept much for a while now, yeah? As Bot and Goo sit down (or whatever Goo does… just kind of droops a bit I suppose) Taco starts preparing the fish to eat!! With… her bare hands. Or rather, claws. She probably did have tools at one point, but after everything she gave up on maintaining them, and they became rather useless. So, she just does it by hand, wiping the blood and gore off on the dirt walls/floor or even her own lettuce. Quite a disturbing sight. Bot gives a polite but strained “no thank you.” Goo nearly cries. And this was not Taco’s intention!! We already know how bad she is with other people and their feelings, and she’s been in a depression for months!! This has just become the norm for her, she is not trying to scare them!! And doesn’t feel good when Goo is upset!! But of course, this is Taco being faced with emotions, so she fumbles around a bit, taking back the fish and trying to give Goo a lemon with the hand that isn’t soaked in fish blood!! It’s sour, but she does not have any other food stored up. She didn’t leave her little hidey hole for quite some time after her break up, so any storage she had is all used up. Besides, I think Goo would enjoy sour things well enough. Bot is a robot so I’m assuming they technically don’t need to eat and would just chill and let Goo enjoy his lemon. 

So Bot and Goo snuggle up and go to sleep, Taco sits in the dark for a few hours because she doesn’t trust them in her den unsupervised and also has barely slept for months <3. But once light starts seeping in from above, she wakes the two of them up to start the trek back to the hotel. Which, they realize as they start walking, is a pretty long trek. So, to fill the time, Goo tells a story!! For hours. Bot does their best to pay good attention!! Taco wasn’t paying attention when he started talking, much less midway through hour 3. And, remember earlier when I mentioned that you could imagine any sort of creature to be the thing chasing Bot and Goo? Well, not this time. I love bears, they’re cuddly and fluffy and don’t actually attack humans that much. Because they prefer fish and fruits and vegetables. Now, consider who of our three characters here would be absolutely scrumptious for a bear to eat. Because she’s full of vegetables. So, a bear comes and tries to eat Taco, Bot and Goo are quite rightfully very frightened, and Taco pulls out her space shooter, shoots it like a sick horse, and keeps walking. The founding members of the cheer factory are surprised, and have to scramble to catch up with her after a moment, because what the actual fuck was that. Well. I don’t think Goo knows the word fuck but still. They ask fair questions, like about how often she gets attacked by bears and why she has a gun, but Taco isn’t talking again and just keeps walking. Goo doesn’t go back to his story, so they just end up walking in silence, until they reach the edge of the forest!! There’s the hotel!! Hooray!! Taco points to the hotel, and immediately turns around to leave. Goo and Bot do thank her for helping them get back though, even if she doesn’t say anything back. 

They are immediately swamped upon entering the hotel. Fan is sobbing while holding Bot, and Test Tube is joining the hug even if she isn’t crying out the entire Atlantic Ocean. Goo is very much checked up on and doted upon too, even if none of the other contestants are his parents, they all probably have a mutual agreement to keep an eye on such a little and whimsical fella, yeah? But anyways, uh, the others had been looking for them for more or less the entire night and very much want to know where they’d disappeared to, of course!! So they explain getting lost and running into Taco which makes the air turn rather awkward, since she’s such a taboo topic in the hotel. When asked how she was, Bot and Goo mostly just look at each other like (⚆₋₍⚆). That would be even more concerning. Goo eventually just says a little “mm, well… if you don’t have anything nice to say you shouldn’t say anything…” Because. All they have to report is that she looked terrible, barely spoke, had blood on her half the time, and killed a bear that tried to eat her without flinching. And that’s. Very concerning. 

I honestly don’t have as much to say from here, since as I said I never expected to actually be sharing this concept, so it’s still really more of a concept rather than an au, but I’d say a small group goes to check on her here, and with Pickle’s permission (remember, only Knife and Soap know Mic had worked with her), offer her a room in the hotel. I mean, they still don’t like her, but Bot and Goo’s description of her ripping into fish with her bare hands for sustenance and having a nearly-falling-apart shell, they feel it pretty inhumane to not try to help her, yeah? And Taco is not having it. She opens up her little stump-roof-thing when Bot knocks and they and Goo call for her, but immediately slams it shut upon seeing they’ve brought more people, and refuses to come out, even when offered the hotel room. Taco is in the pinnacle of her self-hating era here, like she is doing so fucking bad. Remember when Brian said she’d be way worse off without Mepad? Well, here she is without Mepad, very much worse off. She believes herself incapable of changing!!! She would think going into the hotel would be the worst idea ever. She’d think she’d probably kill someone or steal something. She’d think OJ is an idiot for trying to let a kleptomaniac with a history of violence into his and the others’ place of living. 

And it would take quite a lot for her to be convinced, not even to go to the hotel just for a visit or an actual meal, but just to leave her den when she isn’t 100% sure no one else is around. Maybe it would be Mic. Maybe it would be Mepad. Even Balloon or Suitcase. It could be a combination of all of their respective efforts, that maybe things could turn out alright for Taco. Who knows. Not me because I have genuinely told you guys all I have for this concept at the moment. I’ll probably have more eventually but I would feel bad for making you all wait and also that eventually could be days or months so might as well put out what I have lol. 

Hope you all enjoyed!!! <3 sorry if this one sucked byeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[dervampireprince]

Corsets

[18+, minors dni] Pairing: Olrox/Trans Man Reader Words: 2,154 Rating: Explicit Read on Ao3 Tags: Trans Male Character | Established Relationship | Comfort | Gender Dysphoria | Corsetry | Anal Penetration | Oral | Fingering | Praise Kink | Strap-Ons | Dom Bottom Olrox Summary: You saw a corset in a shop window one night and paused. Olrox had asked if you were interested by it. Hovering over your shoulder, he asked if you'd like him to buy it for you. But you shook your head, said no, worried that wearing it would make you look like... So Olrox buys a corset for himself to prove how good a man looks in one.

Notes: Well I saw someone cosplaying Olrox in a corset and Olrox had already been on my brain for days and now this is here. It was just going to be a couple hundred word drabble but then I just kept writing. Yes I couldn't think of a title.

You saw a corset in a shop window one night and paused. Olrox had asked if you were interested by it. Hovering over your shoulder, he asked if you'd like him to buy it for you. But you shook your head, said no, worried that wearing it would make you look like...

You knew it was a silly thought for a couple of reasons. Firstly, that you were being a hypocrite. That clothing had no gender and that you wouldn't think another man looked like a girl for wearing a corset or a skirt or dress. And secondly, that Olrox did not judge you for things like this.

The corset had been forgotten about after that, or so you'd thought.

Later that week you're returning your book to your night stand, but when you enter the room you freeze.

Olrox is sitting on the edge of the bed, hands coming forwards from behind his back to rest in his lap. He's wearing nothing but his white shirt, unbuttoned and tucked down into a deep purple corset.

The book slips from between your fingers and falls to the floor.

If Olrox reacts, you don't see. Your eyes are glued to his body, his shirt revealing some of his chest before being swallowed up, the way the corset hugged his waist, pulled it in and cinched it.

“I thought it could make you feel more assured that you can look like a man in a corset if I wore one. I hope you don’t mind” Olrox's voice drifts into your ears, you barely take in the words but you can hear his smirk.

Your mouth is dry. You don't know how to respond, well, not with words anyway. The silence stretches on, you can't look him in the eye, but you can't look away from him.

It takes him saying your name to bring your mind back up. He can't be sounding concerned, can he? He can get upset about things despite what others think, but him being insecure in himself is not usual. It can't be that. Perhaps he's concerned that he's finally broken you.

“Olrox,” You breathe out, your voice sounds wrecked.

You finally meet his gaze.

He tilts his head to the side, pops up a shoulder, hair spills in front of his right eye.

“What do you think?” He asks, knowing full well what a fucking vision he looks like.

Words still fail you. How can you possible put into words how gorgeous he looks? And how many times had he already been told that in his lifetime? And the way he was sitting there, smugly amused by your reaction to him.

You aren't really thinking yet when you abandon your book on the floor. You're in front of him in an instant, leaning forwards, nose brushing against his, lips almost touching. You tilt your head ever so slightly, letting him think you're about to kiss him, let him lean up towards you, before pulling away

He huffs as you pull at him, not satisfied until he's standing. Your hands hook under his arms, around to his shoulder blades until they're being dragged down over his back as you sink your body down. Your mouth kisses at the exposed skin on his chest, and doesn't stop once it hits rich brocade.

You mouth over the hooks, tongue dragging against the seams, laying kisses over the corset until your thighs touch your calves and you're kneeling before him.

“What do I think?” Your murmur, lips pressing against the bottom hem of the corset, so close to his cock.

Olrox stares down at you in shock. You’re normally not this bold. He’s usually the one who has to instigate anything sexual, not because you don’t want too but because you get shy. And that's fine, he's more than happy to do the seducing, to chase you, and you blushing and squirming is a bonus. Of course he's wanted your confidence to grow, wondered what it would be like to see you bloom. Who knew all it would take to bring out your confidence would be a garment.

“Do you need me to show you?”

Olrox blinks down at you, the unexpected thrill of you being so forward making him forget what he had just said. “What?”

You chuckle against his skin and he shivers. "Can I show you how much I like it?"

Something warm catches in his chest as you nuzzle against his cock, the gesture is soft, comforting for you. His hand drifts down to your hair, threads his fingers between the strands.

"Yes."

It's all the permission you need. Any embarrassment you would usually have about taking any little bit of control is gone, replaced by a need to please him, to make him feel good, to make him feel as beautiful as he is, to engrave how beautiful you find him into his bones.

The way Olrox looks up at you when you push him down onto the bed makes your heart flutter. He's allowing you to do this, to push him back, trusting you to have this bit of control without abusing it. He doesn't get into subspaces like you, and you'd never ask him to submit to you, he's had enough of people trying to get him to submit. You're barely dominating him here, he's still got all the control, but he's letting you call the shots on where you touch him, letting you explore and worship him.

And fuck how you crave to worship him.

Your hands slide up and down the fabric and boning that covers his waist as you place your head between his legs. Running your tongue along the side, kissing the tip, taking it all into your mouth. He sighs when you do.

"Always so soft and warm for me, my love," He coos as you will your mouth to take him a little deeper.

As lovely as his cock is in your mouth, it's not what you really want. You've only done this a handful of times and it's always been from Olrox asking for it. This is the first time you've had the need, the want, all on your own for this.

"I want to fuck you," Your rasp out, pulling yourself off Olrox's cock.

His cock twitches against your cheek.

"Really?" He looks down at you in wonder and you nod eagerly.

His voice always sounds so calm and unaffected when he talks during sex. You realise you'd like to try and change that.

He reaches for the oil in the night stand and hands it to you. You kiss his hand as you take it.

"Thank you," Perhaps it's silly to say, especially as your now slicked finger circles his hole.

"For what?"

"Trusting me to have you like this."

You see his walls come down. The furrow of his brow, smirk falling into genuine smile.

"Well, you're going to take good care of me aren't you, sweet boy?"

A whine leaves your mouth. Yes, yes you are, you want too so badly, it's what he deserves, he deserves to be taken care off, especially when he takes such good care of you.

"My good patient boy. You're going to get me nice and-ah stretched out for your cock?" He rocks his hips as you slide a finger inside him. "Just like that. If I'd known all I needed to do to get you rushing to fold me in half I'd have- fuck, another finger, love- I'd have bought one of these a long time ago. This is what gets you riled up huh?"

"You get me riled up," You complain as three of your fingers thrust into him. "This is just... Fuck, Olrox you're beautiful."

He preens under you. Hips thrusting back against your fingers, his body rolling but slightly restricted by the corset. You wish you could have seen him put it on, or fuck-

"Next time, let me help you put it on?"

"Next time?" His eyes twinkle as he smiles.

"Oh you have to wear this again. And you want too, you enjoy seeing me frustrated," You wipe your fingers off on your thigh.

"And it is so easy to get you frustrated." Olrox hums, pleased with himself.

He watches as you get yourself ready for him. Harness sliding over your thighs, slicking your cock up with oil as it clicks into place.

"You going to fuck me with that now?" He spreads his legs against the crimson sheets. "That's a good boy, come here. You're going to give me what I need, aren't you?"

You crawl between his legs, panting and flushed even though he hasn't touched you. Your hands stroke over his thighs before finding purchase on that waist again, you could get addicted to holding him there.

"Yes," Olrox hisses out and throws his head back as you push your cock inside of him, bottoming out in one long, slow thrust.

You swear you can feel him around you. He'd be tight as you haven't done this in a while. Sensitive walls clenching around you as your thrust. And you do thrust, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. He can be so soft when he's inside of you, but when you're inside of him he doesn't like being treated like he's breakable. When you're inside of him he tells you-

"Harder, love. You wanted to show me how much you like me in this? Yes? Then harder, show me-" He chokes on his own moans, babbling around your cock, toes curling. "Like that, yes, good boy-"

Olrox's hands reach for you, pull you in so he can kiss you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, demandingly, and as you moan back into his mouth he hooks a leg around you and flips you both over.

"You really like this, darling?" He runs a hand down over his stomach, taunting you, as he rises up and down, fucking himself on your cock.

"Yes, yes, Olrox, fuck," You dig your heels into the bed, your hands scramble at his hips, trying to get leverage to fuck up into him. "Please."

He hushes you, leans over to kiss you again as he rolls his hips against you.

"You can come if you can, love. If you can grind up into me so that this cock presses against you, rubs against you, or I can slide a hand down there myself after I come..." He trails off, you know there's about to be a catch. "If..."

Whining you paw at him, fingers greedily grabbing his ass, feeling where he's stretched out around you.

"Ah, close, my love. And you can be close too, if you tell me what you think."

"You- fuck, you know, Olrox, you're gorgeous-"

"And a man?"

"A-? Yes of course, you," Oh. "Yes, you still look like a man, Olrox, please-"

He leans down, kissing your neck, fangs grazing you. "Will you let me buy you one?"

Your head is spinning. "What?"

"If I come around your cock and then rub my fingers against you until you come, will you let me buy you a corset?"

His voice tickles your ear, but then he pulls back, bouncing harder on your cock now. You know he's close.

"I can help you put it on. You'd be so good for me, standing in front of the mirror as I lace you up, and then I can show you how handsome you are in it, play with your little hole, kiss you all over, fuck you-ah open, just like you're doing to me. Don't you want that, love?"

You do, of course you do, but it's hard to get anything out of your mouth other than moans as the curved back of the cock presses against your body, the groove catching on slick cock that's trapped behind it.

"Please, Olrox, please, please, I want, ah, I want you too, want you to show me I'm your good boy, I'm your good boy Olrox please-"

His thighs squeeze around yours. When he throws his head back, his hair fans around him, earrings jingling. He grinds down against your cock despite being oversensitive, riding out his orgasm, his come pooling on your chest.

You think he should be the one boneless, not sliding off your cock with ease. Before you can complain, his hand is where he promised it would be, already rubbing at your wet cock while the other tugs down the harness. He pushes it away, nails scratch against your thigh drawing your gaze down to his. All it takes it one swipe of his tongue against your cock and you're coming.

He strokes your hair as you come down, tells you how much he loves you, how well you fucked him, and of course, how pretty you're going to look for him after he stops back by that shop.

[arliedraws]

Snippet!

Tagged a few days ago by @tedwardremus. Sorry to everyone who's tagged me in stuff lately! I've just not really been in the mood for fandom stuff as much, but I've been trying to do a little writing lately.

Here's a little bit of the AU where Harry accidentally kills Peter in the Shrieking Shack in PoA:

Sirius stopped himself from protesting. There was nothing to argue. This terrible compromise was a mercy. By the look of fury on Macnair’s face, it was clear there would have been no hesitation to deliver Sirius to the Dementors if Fudge had given the order to have him Kissed. If Dumbledore had not stepped in, by now there would’ve been nothing left of Sirius except his body.  Dumbledore took the goblet from Snape. “Sirius,” he said. “Are you ready?” It slipped his mind that he was still under the influence of Veritaserum when he opened his mouth to claim that he was prepared, but what came out instead was unbidden. “No,” he said, “I’m scared.” Immediately, his face flooded with heat; he snapped his mouth shut.  “Quite understandable,” said Dumbledore kindly. “I will ensure no harm comes to you while you sleep. Will you trust me on that?” “I wish I could.” Fudge scowled. “Just get on with it, Black.” With trembling hands, Sirius accepted the goblet. Why was it so full? Did a man of his frailty need that much potion to put him to sleep? His hands shook so badly, he nearly spilled it as he brought it to his lips. He hesitated. “Would you let Harry visit me?” he asked Dumbledore. “Yes, Sirius. If he wishes." Fudge threw up his hands. “After all we’ve done to keep the boy safe!” Sirius ignored him. “And if I don’t wake up…would you tell him I…” Everyone watched him, waiting for him to drink. He wasn’t stalling. He only needed to get out his last words in case they were his last. Resolute, he hardened his voice. “Tell him I love him, all right? If nothing else, he should know that.”

Tagging the first people who pop in my head: @impishtubist (bc i want more matilda au), @mycupofrum, @snarky-magpie, @annabtg, @lilacella, aaaaand anyone else who wants to share some stuff.

[punkspicecakes]

like the back of my hand

fluffy established Atsumu x reader

warnings/tags: fluff, a little suggestive, just some v sweet kisses, established relationship, freckles, simply knowing and loving each other

a/n: this is my first time posting anything i've written so be nice to me or i'll cry

“Atsumu am I dying?”

You’re standing on the plush bathroom rug, skin still damp from the shower. Halfway through putting on your pajamas, you’d noticed a little freckle that sits almost perfectly centered above your belly button. You swear you’ve never seen this spot before. Surely you would have noticed it? What if it’s skin cancer? 

He peeks around the corner, shirt halfway over his head as he undresses for bed. He looks you over, trying to figure out what you mean. “Hah? Dyin’? Why are ya dyin’?” 

“Has this always been here?” You point to the suspicious mark.

He steps fully into the room, t-shirt landing in the hamper. His brows furrow, “That’s always been there, baby. It’s one of my favorites actually.” He smirks up at you as he drops down onto his knees, now eye level with your hips. “ He places a gentle kiss on the freckle, “These ones are like a little constellation.” 

Lightly, he traces his finger from the spot above your belly button and down to the tiny pair of moles at your left hip. You hum at the soft touch. “Really? How have I never noticed it before then?” He huffs a laugh, “I know ya like the back of my hand, sweetheart. I promise ya it’s always been there.” 

“Ya got these ones too,” He pushes you back with a hand on your hip until you’re leaning against the sink, then nudges your legs apart “right between yer thighs.” He thumbs over the spots, leaning forward to place a kiss there before standing up.

Butterflies flit around your stomach and you squint at the mischievous glint in his brown eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. He pats your side before turning away with a wink, “Finish gettin’ ready for bed.” You smile at his retreating form, he still gives you butterflies after all this time together.

Now fully dry, moisturized, and ready for bed you flip off the bathroom light. Your attached bedroom is dimly lit by a small lamp on the nightstand. Atsumu is lying on his back, snuggled up in the comforter with a book. You pad over to your side of the bed, crawling beneath the covers and immediately seeking out his body heat. He adjusts his arm so it’s now looped behind you to hold the book and places a kiss on your damp hair. The two of you lie there awhile, your hand rubbing circles on his chest, leg thrown overtop of his. 

He apparently gets to a stopping point and places a bookmark between the pages “If I don’t stop now I’m gonna be up all night.” You laugh and look up at him from your spot on his chest, chin resting on your hands. “Tired?” he asks. 

You blink up at him, eyelids getting heavy “Mmhmm.” A soft smile graces his lips and he places his hands on your cheeks, pulling your lips towards his own, “M’kay.” Getting comfortable, you run a hand through the short hair of his undercut, lips lazily slotting together. One of his hands makes its way from your cheek to the back of your neck, thumb stroking over your hair. The other moves down to rub circles on your back. You stay like that a while longer, softly pressing your mouths together. Occasionally your tongue skirts across his bottom lip, drawing out a contented sigh before he returns the action.   

Eventually he pulls away, lips a little swollen, cheeks rosy. “I love ya.” he says softly. You’re sure your own face mirrors his, the love in his gaze is obvious. You reach over to turn the lamp off, leaving only the moonlight coming in the window to illuminate the planes of his face. Placing a kiss on his nose, you tuck your head under his chin, murmuring into his chest “Goodnight, baby. Love you too.”

[messrsrarchives]

Hello! I adore your blog and your yaps so much I’ve been following you for a few months now and I first wanted to tell you that you do so much good! So, a huge thanks to you for using your platform for trans topics/Palestine/as well as fandom etiquette/awareness and for just being amazing!

All things aside though, I do have a question! I was wondering what your opinion on @the-dead-gay-oscars was. I stumbled upon it recently and felt kind of an icky feeling about it, because it just feels like another way of comparing fanfic to mainstream media when fanfic isn’t really meant to be like that? It’s also putting a bunch of fanfic out there for people to vote on/critique publicly, and I cant find whether or not the fanfic writers are asked for permission for their fics to be included in such an event- especially when I know a lot of people have boundaries over that kind of thing. I just wonder if it brings back that almost expectation for fanfiction to be like published modern literature/movies. I doubt anyone had the intention for it to be like that but I just don’t really like it?

Idk, it just left me feeling weird about the whole thing, but maybe I’m being over dramatic and critical over something meant to be fun, which could totally be the case. 😅

Anyways, thank you so much for what you do! Have a nice day!

hiii !! first of all!!! thank youuu 😖😖🫂🫂

and yeah,,, not a fan. idk if this mention tags them and if it does, sorry!!! just some gentle opinions 😖

idk like,, "best" categories in fandom really ick me out. and i think it can be very discouraging to others? like how does the voting work? do they select nominations and then others vote?

oh you've said they do! so yes, then it turns into "oh my work wasnt as good as the one that won" etc etc - i just think there's better ways to show appreciation than creating more pedestals in a fandom that already has a massive issue with idolisation, imposter syndrome, etc etc

and whether the authors are asked permission or not is irrelevant to me (actually,, probably worse if they are and agree in my mind)

idk. good concept, poor execution that i personally think is just discouraging and competitive when this space is for everyyyyyyone to create and enjoy without worrying whether you're better than someone else or the "best" etc etc. and yes, 100% brings expectations.

i get it was for appreciation, but i dislike the notion when really you could just comment on a fic and say you liked it, and then make a post recommending it, or rec it to your friends etc etc. you know??

we don't need awards and competition, we need community and an encouraging space where everyone feels confident to engage and write and draw and edit and do whatever it is that they do without worrying about whether they're the best at it or if they're as good as someone else

unless i get best rant poster. then it's okay. (I'M KIDDING THAT WAS A /J. THAT WAS A JOKE.)