#okay i am going to go to bed and hope i can maybe be productive in a few hours bc its almost six am

[ghosttotheparty]

with every beat of my heart

also on ao3 cw: grief, death of a parent, past child abuse, panic attack

Steve isn't in bed when Eddie wakes up.

That's what wakes him up in the first place. The lack of Steve's warmth, the way the mattress isn't dipping under his weight and dragging Eddie closer to him the way it usually does. It's still dark when Eddie blinks his eyes open, and he slides a hand out over the mattress, feeling the blankets that have been tossed back and set over Eddie's body. It's cold. Eddie pushes himself up, listening closely for the creaky floorboards in the hallway of their apartment, for any indication that Steve just went to the bathroom, went for some water or painkillers, but the apartment is silent.

Eddie sits up, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. His whole body aches the way it always does when he wakes up, but he pushes himself to his feet anyway, untangling from the blankets in the dark and tossing them back to the bed.

He creeps down the hall, squinting in the dark until he looks around the corner to see the kitchen light shining under the crooked door.

"Stevie?" he says weakly, his voice rough as he pushes the door open.

Steve is sitting at the dining table, his arms crossed on it in front of him. He's staring at the tablecloth like it's speaking to him, and he doesn't look up until Eddie says his name again. He blinks, his eyes raising up to look at Eddie blankly.

"Hey," he says, like it's perfectly normal for him to be here at two in the morning.

"What's going on?" Eddie asks, blinking his eyes in the bright light of the kitchen. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "Fine."

"Steve." He goes to stand next to Steve so Steve is looking up at him, and he pushes a hand through Steve's tangled hair. It's longer now, unkempt and beautiful. Steve blinks up at him, exhaling. "What happened? You have a nightmare?"

"No," Steve says softly. "My mom called."

Eddie blinks, fully awake. She's not supposed to have their number. Steve went zero contact with his parents when they moved out of Hawkins.

"How did she..."

"Joyce gave it to her."

Eddie blinks again. Joyce knows all about Steve's parents. She wouldn't do that without a good fucking reason.

"What did she have to say?" Eddie asks softly, pulling a chair over and sitting down in front of Steve. The chairs are mismatched. All of them are. From garage sales and second-hand stores.

Steve stares at him for another few moments, his eyes almost empty. Absent. A pit grows in Eddie's stomach. Steve isn't even moving. He's usually fidgeting with something, tapping his fingers, bouncing his knee, rubbing the fabric of his shirt, rocking back and forth. Especially when Eddie made it very clear when they moved in together that it was all fine. None of it is annoying, or childish, or weird. Eddie waits while Steve stares at him, wanting to reach out and touch him, to hold his hand or his cheek, but the pit in Eddie's stomach says that's not what Steve needs right now.

"My dad's dead," Steve says finally, blinking. His eyes clear up a little bit, finally looking at Eddie instead of through him.

Eddie blinks, straightening.

"Oh."

He doesn't know what to say.

He doesn't know what there is he could say.

"He had a heart attack last night," Steve continues, possibly picking up on Eddie's speechlessness. "He didn't make it." He cracks an odd smile, tilting his head, but it fades just as quickly as it appeared. "Guess all that anger finally caught up with him."

Eddie feels sick. Like he has a fever. Too hot, almost shivering.

"How do you feel?" he asks softly.

"Mom's having a hard time," Steve says, like he's ignoring the question, but Eddie knows it just didn't register. He's not really hearing Eddie right now. "She was crying on the phone, I-- I didn't really know what to say? I said he's in a better place, but that feels so shallow, I mean--"

"Baby," Eddie interrupts. Steve shuts up, looking at him with wide eyes like he's in trouble, so Eddie finally reaches a hand out, holding it open and waiting. Steve looks at his hand like it's foreign for a moment before he slides his hand into it. He's shaking. "How do you feel?" Eddie asks again, slower.

"I..." Steve takes a deep breath, blinking at their hands, at the bands around their ring fingers they bought the day they left Hawkins. Not legal wedding rings, but neither of them has ever really cared about the law. "I don't know."

"Do you wanna go through it or around it?" Eddie asks gently. It's the same question they ask each other whenever they have nightmares or flashbacks or just generally hard days. Always a quicker way to other questions.Do you wanna tell me about it or go back to sleep? Do you wanna describe what happened or watch a movie? Do you wanna talk about it or have sex? Do you wanna cry for a while or go for a drive? But they always go through it eventually, even if they go around it first.

"I don't know," Steve breathes, his eyes suddenly glistening as he stares through the floor. "I don't know, I don't-- I don't know."

"You want me to decide?"

Steve looks into his eyes, looking scared and small and desperate. He nods. Eddie squeezes his hand and takes a deep breath.

"Let's go through it," he says softly, listening to the way Steve's voice stutters in his throat. Eddie nods encouragingly, squeezing again. "'S okay, I'm right here," he murmurs. "We'll go through it together, okay?"

"Okay," Steve says.

"Tell me what you're feeling."

Steve takes another breath.

"...Confused."

"Why?"

Steve licks his lips, looking at their hands, and his face hardens after a moment as he bites his lip, and his lip quivers, and Eddie can tell that he's aching to go around it instead. But Steve looks up into Eddie's eyes, and Eddie gives him a nod. You got it. Whatever it is you're feeling, it's okay. And Steve goes through it.

"That man," he says slowly. "Was a piece... of fucking shit."

Eddie almost smiles. He nods.

"He..." Steve takes a deep breath. Eddie squeezes his hand. "He made me fucking miserable. Every fucking day." His voice is firm, unwavering. "He made my life a living hell. And I don't..." He shakes his head like he's speechless, like he's in disbelief, and then his eyebrows furrow as his eyes fill with tears, but he squeezes them shut so the tears all fall down his cheeks, and he steadies himself. "I used to--" His voice breaks, and he chokes on it, pausing to swallow. "I used to lay in bed at night," he says, his voice softer. "And... And wish he'd fucking die. I would wish he'd have a heart attack, or-- or get in a car accident, or be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and it's so fucking shitty, but I--" He cuts off with a scoff, his expression lightening. "Every birthday wish, every eleven-eleven, every goddamn ladybug that landed on me in the summertime. I wished he'd die. I wished he'd be one of those shitty dads that just up and left his family for no good reason."

Eddie listens intently, his eyes burning, holding Steve's hand tightly.

"The only time I ever prayed," Steve says quietly, "to a god I never even believed in, it was to ask God to make my dad fuck off the face of the earth." He laughs again, dryly, weakly, shaking his head. "And now..." He swallows again. "Now, fucking what?" He looks up again, at Eddie, but he's looking through him again. Eddie nods anyway, listening. "Now I turn twenty-four, and I'm long fucking gone and he just... Now he dies." His lip is quivering, his eyes gleaming with tears. "That's not fair," he whispers.

Eddie shakes his head in agreement, because it's not fucking fair. It's not fucking fair that Steve lived in that goddamn house in fear for his whole life, his whole childhood, surviving instead of living, and only now, when he has a home, is it safe to go back.

"And that's--" Steve chokes. "That's cruel, and shitty of me to say, but I-- I don't care."

"'S not shitty, Steve," Eddie says, squeezing his hand.

"It is," Steve argues weakly. "But I don't care. He... He hurt me. For years," he says, and he's crying now, tears falling down his face that Eddie wipes away with every ounce of care he can. "And now he's dead, and I never got to tell him to his face how much he hurt me. Or how much he scared me, and I never got to tell him that I'm not scared of him anymore. Because he--" He swallows, blinking tears out of his eyes, emphasizing with a movement of the hand that Eddie isn't holding, like he doesn't want to let go of Eddie's. "Because he was nothing," Steve chokes, "but a fucking coward that put his hands on a child, and that really wasn't fair."

Eddie nods, pride glowing in his chest because Steve is getting it. He's getting everything that Eddie's tried to tell him for years, every time he's woken up from nightmares about coming home late to find his father waiting to interrogate him, about breaking a glass dish as a child because the counters were too high.

"But he-- I'm so angry," Steve says, the last word breaking on its way out, too breathy and soft. "Because why now?" A tear falls from Eddie's eye, and even in his anger and confusion, Steve wipes it away gently, almost mindlessly. "I'm twenty fucking four, and he-- he dies now. Why not-- Why not when I was eight? Or-- Or twelve? Or fifteen? Why not when I needed it to happen? Why not when I prayed for it to happen? It's not fucking fair."

"No," Eddie chokes. "'S not fair, Stevie."

"I'm so angry," Steve says, crying, gasping for breath, his hand trembling as it grips Eddie's. "I'm so angry, Eddie, I don't-- It's like there's no space in me for anything else."

Eddie lifts his hand and kisses it softly, because he can't find any words right now.

"Is this grief?" Steve wonders out loud, his eyes wandering to the floor, tracing the tiles desperately like they'll lead to an answer. "Do you have to love someone to grieve them?"

Eddie's chest aches. He wants to go around it. He doesn't want to go through it anymore.

"Because I have never loved him," Steve says almost thoughtfully, passionately. "But I..." He's still looking at the floor, and a part of Eddie wonders if Steve remembers that he's even here. If he's even still speaking to Eddie, or if he's just thinking out loud. "But if something happened to you," Steve says, answering Eddie's silent question, "or-- or Robbie, or Dustin, or..." He shakes his head, shrugging weakly. "I would be... on the floor. Screaming-- I-- I don't think I could handle it, I would be so... so angry." He looks up into Eddie's eyes. "At the fucking universe, at God, at everything that could possibly be responsible for it, but with him," Steve says. His head tilts forward, and his eyes widen. "I'm angry at him. It's like he died out of fucking spite. Like he knew, like he fucking waited. And that's not fair."

He's quiet for a moment before,

"Is it my fault?"

Eddie blinks a tear out of his eye, squeezing his hand tightly.

"Did he die because I left?" Steve asks. "Was it too much for him? Did he..."

"Steve," Eddie says firmly, prompting Steve to look into his eyes, and Eddie leans forward, speaking slowly, deliberately, firmly, leaving no room for argument. "This is not your fault. Nothing he ever did to you was your fault. You understand me?"

Steve's lip quivers, and tears spill from his eyes.

"I'm so angry, Eddie," he whispers brokenly, and Eddie nods.

"I know, honey," he says, and he stands, pulling at Steve's shoulders until Steve wraps his arms around Eddie's hips tightly, burying his face in Eddie's belly. Eddie pushes his fingers into his hair, tugging it firmly the way he likes, and he looks up at the cracked paint on the ceiling when Steve's shoulders shake as he cries. "You haven't done anything wrong," he says gently, his voice wavering. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"I'm so angry," Steve sobs into his shirt, and Eddie can barely understand him. He nods even though Steve can't see him, pulling his hair again, sliding a hand down to his upper back firmly. "I'm so angry."

"You can be angry," Eddie says softly.

The sun is rising by the time Steve stops crying. Eddie is tired from standing, but he'd stay here for days for him. Steve leaves his face buried in Eddie's belly for a little while as he catches his breath, and Eddie combs through his hair softly, holding him, loving him. When Steve finally pulls away, his eyes are wide.

"My heart," he says breathlessly. Eddie's stomach falls, and he lowers himself to kneel on the floor in front of Steve. "'S beating too-- 'S beating too fast."

"You're okay," Eddie says softly, taking Steve's hand. It's shaking almost violently, and Eddie holds it tightly. "You're okay."

"Heart attack," Steve says, his chest rising and falling quickly, his eyes flicking back and forth between Eddie's. "I'm--"

"You're not having a heart attack," Eddie says calmly, leaning close to look into his eyes, squeezing his hand before he holds it to his own chest. "You're having a panic attack. You're okay."

"Eddie, I'm-- I'm gonna die," Steve chokes, his voice slurred with panic, his words muddled together. Eddie blinks tears back, staying calm for him, and he shakes his head.

"You're not dying, my love," he says slowly. He reaches a hand up and pushes his fingers into Steve's hair, pulling it gently. "Take a deep breath for me."

Steve tries, but he's hyperventilating, his eyes wide and crying, looking desperately at Eddie, who nods, taking a deep breath himself, exaggerating the rise and fall of his chest, holding Steve's hand to it.

"You're okay," Eddie says. "Your heart is okay."

"'M angry," Steve says weakly, breathlessly.

"You can be angry," Eddie says calmly. "Your heart is okay, even if you're angry." He takes another breath, and Steve follows along, even though his breath catches and stutters and he gasps as Eddie is still exhaling. "You're not your father, Steve," Eddie says softly. "You're nothing like him."

"Eddie," Steve whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, pressing his hand against Eddie's chest harder, his other hand gripping Eddie's forearm. "Please."

"I'm right here, baby," Eddie murmurs. "Take a deep breath for me."

Steve tries again.

"There you go," Eddie whispers. "You're okay."

"'M okay," Steve mumbles weakly.

"That's right, Stevie, you're okay. Deep breath, all the way in, all the way out."

Steve tries again.

And again.

And again.

Steve falls against Eddie when he finally gets a clear breath, like the exhale deflates him, and Eddie wraps his arms around him tightly. He's trembling, like he's freezing.

"I love you so much," Eddie murmurs in his ear. "You did so good, baby."

Steve whimpers. He's crying again. Eddie combs through his hair and keeps murmuring to him softly.

When he stops crying, Eddie carefully shifts to hold his head between his hands, and he presses kisses across his face, even though his skin is covered with tears, and his nose is running. He kisses over his forehead, and the bridge of his nose, and his cheeks, and his eyelids, and his lips, and his chin, and across his jaw and down his neck, all the while whispering to him.

I love you so much, Stevie. You did such a good job. You're okay, sweetheart.

When Steve opens his eyes, there's a soft sort of absence in them that only gets there after particularly bad nightmares. (The ones where Eddie doesn't make it.) Eddie lowers back to the floor, looking up into his eyes, and he runs his thumbs over his cheeks softly. Steve squeezes his wrist weakly, exhausted.

Eddie gets him a glass of water and stands next to him as he sips it slowly, running his hands through his hair, closing his eyes when Steve leans against him. It takes a while for Steve to finish it, but Eddie waits patiently, knowing the glass is heavy in his hand, knowing Steve wants to disappear right now. When he finishes the water, Eddie sits back in the chair in front of him, holding both his hands tightly. Steve is slouching over, looking at their hands. Eddie squeezes.

"Stevie," he whispers.

"Yeah," Steve breathes.

"Look at me for a minute."

Steve's eyes raise to his. They're glassy, shining brightly, and Eddie's chest hurts.

"It's okay to be angry," he says softly, intentionally and carefully. "And it's okay to cry. And there's nothing wrong with anything you're feeling. You understand me?"

"I don't wanna be angry," Steve says weakly, his voice small. "'M tired of being angry. I don't wanna turn into him."

"Steve," Eddie whispers. "You are nothing like him." He reaches a hand to Steve's chest and holds it there. "You have... the purest heart out of anyone I know," he says gently. "You would never do any of the things he did to you."

"I know," Steve breathes, but he doesn't seem to believe him.

"Do you trust me?" Eddie asks. Steve nods without hesitation. "Will you believe what I tell you?"

Steve stares into his eyes, now clutching Eddie's hand in both of his.

"...Okay."

"You have a beautiful soul," Eddie whispers. "And I trust you," he adds, raising his eyebrows, watching Steve's lips curve into the smallest smile Eddie's ever seen. The morning sunlight is shining on him now. He looks like an angel, his messy hair glowing in a golden halo. "You are a good, good man," Eddie says softly. "And I will remind you as many times as you need, I will remind you with every fucking beat of my heart, that you are a good man."

Steve's lip quivers again, and he closes his eyes like he's absorbing the words. A tear slides down his cheek. Eddie wipes it away tenderly.

"I love you so fucking much, Stevie."

"I love you too," Steve gasps, taking a hiccuping breath, but he exhales smoothly, blowing the air out so it blows Eddie's hair.

"Let's go to bed," Eddie murmurs.

"Okay."

Eddie leads him down the creaky hallway, holding his hand, after pouring him more water to drink. Steve gets in bed while Eddie pulls the curtains together more to block the sunlight, and then he crawls into bed too, already holding his arms out for Steve to lie in. He closes his eyes, pressing his face into Steve's hair, running his fingers through it when he feels him crying again.

He doesn't drift off until he knows Steve is asleep, when Steve is heavy against him, relaxed and breathing evenly, slowly.

Instead of going to the funeral, which his mother calls about the next week, Steve stays home with Eddie and watches a movie. Steve starts to cry halfway through it, wracked by guilt and fear and anger, and Eddie just wraps an arm around him silently, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Steve smiles the next day, light on his feet and bright in a way Eddie's never seen, and through all the years Eddie's known Steve, he's known about his father, but he realises after the funeral is done with that he never really knew the extent of it. Because after the funeral is done, Steve never has to worry about anything to do with his father again. And his eyes shine brightly, and Eddie thinks there might be a whole galaxy behind him that Eddie still hasn't explored.

Steve still gets angry sometimes, but that's okay. Because his father's face is fading from his memory, and his mother never calls him again. And Eddie reminds him as often as he can that he loves him, that he trusts him, that he's pure and beautiful and has a heart of gold. That he's okay, that he's good.

After his father dies, Steve never dreams about him again.

[catastrxblues]

good morning it is now 4 am and i have just finished watching atonement good night

[11cupids-tarot11]

A Letter From Your Future Spouse

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1 -> 4

Cupid's Services Cupid's Master List Socials

Tips appreciated!

C@sh app and P@ypal only!

$minnieplant3

@janellec03

LOVE U

- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

︻デ═一 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Pile 1- Four of Wands, The Fool, Page of Swords, Nine of Cups, Page of Wands, The Wheel of Fortune.

"Hi you! I've been sleeping a lot, can't seem to do anything else lately because of how tired I've been. Finally. I can sleep as much as I want to now because of a situation that just so happened to end recently. Death.

What now? See, I've been wondering the same thing. But let's not even worry about it, let's just sleep as much as we want to because we finally can, even if it's only a little nap time out of your day do it because I gotta see you one last time later, I've got a message for you in your dreams. Spirit will tell you, don't worry about missing it or when <3

Resting so much so when I do have to work, you know, find that balance again between work and fun, I can focus on what's so important to me a lot better, I mean really give it my all... You know? Lol

Sorry, I dream a lot, you might notice my head is always in the clouds. I have very air energy like a Gemini.

Things are finally clearing up for me! I feel at peace, maybe we mirror each other and things are also getting better for you too? You have to let me know, okay? I feel like I can finally breathe again, be optimistic without being scared the rug is going to get snatched from underneath.

I've been working so so hard on my craft, putting in so much love and effort into my work and I feel really hopeful that all of my productivity will pay off soon, consistency is key, right?

I really like the color yellow, 😄 talk again soon!"

Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to do the poll below 👇🏾 ✨

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Pile 2- Knight of Wands, I forgot to write down the rest of the cards I'm so sorry 😞

"I have no problem with putting in hard work for anything I want, even you, you know? If you don't want me the moment we catch eyes I'll make you ;)

The moment I catch you I'm going to make sure I never stop loving you, I'll make sure every day is beautiful, even on our bad days we'll kiss each other good night before bed still. I love you!

Why do you keep worrying yourself? All of that doubt in that pretty little head of yours isn't good, you should lay it all to rest before you make yourself sick baby. Sleep more, practice some self care before you run yourself crazy, okay?

I'm so proud of you, you know, for whatever amazing things you've accomplished lately. I believe in you, I'll always be your #1 cheerleader!

You should go out and celebrate! Enjoy the sun, you deserve it my angel! Promise me you won't let this go by like it's just not that big and you'll go out and do something? Pinky promise?

Stay focused! You're on the right path, you're doing amazing! I promise you, all of this will be worth it, it's worth our future 💓 keep going, I know you can do it! 🎉"

Hope you enjoy!!☺️ Don't forget to do the poll below!!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Pile 3- Queen of Cups, Justice, Four of Cups, The Moon, Three of Swords, The Star.

" Hi my love, you know I don't talk a lot haha, so I'll make this quick as usual and get out of your hair so you can go on.

I just want to remind you, you're my queen, my favorite, my whole world ❤️ I think red looks really pretty on you btw but anyway, I love and miss you like crazy at times like these.

I am going through something right now, a legal situation, a situation I wish would come to an end right now because it's so heavy on me, it's hurting me but I know at the same time it's happening to me because it's part of my karma, something that's forcing me to look so closely at myself, at every shadow because I think it leads me to you. My everything. We're going to get married, I'm so sure of it.

I'm keeping hope alive, I'm hanging on to every thread of it I've got. I'm working on everything right now, I'll catch up with you soon sweetheart 💋 I'm going to kiss you when I do, you won't be able to get rid of me. ;) "

Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to do the poll below!!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Pile 4- Ace of Cups, The Hanged Man, King of Wands, Nine of Cups, Knight of Cups, Nine of Wands.

"I want to come to you with amazing news but I can't, I'm sorry to say, I've taken a turn for the worst right now. Don't worry, it's temporary.

I am slowly building myself back up, that's what I'm doing right now if you're wondering what I've been doing all this time. I'm healing day by day and I hope you are too sweetheart. I might be a bit stuck and tangled up right now, but I'm clearing through it!

I'm the kind of guy who will pursue you with nothing but kindness until I make you fall for me with your charm, I'm cute, I know I am, you'll love me, I have curly light hair, and a really cute smile. You'll think I'm so adorable.

I want to offer my heart to you, fully, 100%. You have me, all of me as long as you give me you in return, I hope you do, I can't be without you once I know you.

Take care my love ❤️."

Hope you enjoyed ❤️ Don't forget to do the poll below!!

[scorpioriesling]

I (Almost) Don't Believe You

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Brennan x reader

Warnings: mutual pining, tiny mention of injury

Summary: It was already bad enough to find out your father and brother invaded your best friend's privacy; but sending you on a mission where it nearly killed her? Unbelieveable. What else is unbelieveable? The boy you'd fallen for so long ago would only be waiting for you on the other side...

SR’s Note: Um okay, as I am progressing through Iron Flame rn... like, Brennan is... ooh okay I am liking him quite a bit. He's helping ease the pain of loosing Liam (': Jokes, jokes... I don't think I'll ever get over that reality. Enjoy, lovelies.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The hours you'd been counting seemed to blur together as exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. Was it exhaustion? Maybe it was just guilt. After everything you'd seen and gone through today, differentiating the two was... well, near impossible.

Your dragon has been all but silent, giving you time as thoughts race through your mind. Would your best friend wake up? If she didn't, the male sitting to your left would be all but gone too. A male you've come around to, especially seeing the way your closest friend reacts in his presence.

Gods, you wished for something like that.

Violet stirrs, her brow furrowing and shoulders moving on the cot where she lay. Both you and Xaden lean forward instinctively at the same time, and he huffs a small laugh as he glances sidelong at you. The two of you haven't spoken much since the arrival, and you're sure his mind is racing just as yours is.

"Vi... I hope you wake soon, you have people who've been waiting forever to see you," Xaden whispers. Your heart warms at his words -- long gone is the fearsome Wingleader you'd met only a year ago, and his familiar warmth is graciously returned in Violet's presence. She rolls to her side, eyes squeezing closed as she lets out a wide yawn. Xaden is on his feet in an instant -- you're quick to follow, flanking to her bedside.

"Violet?" You whisper. Xaden extends his hand, brushing hair from her face as she slowly blinks her eyes open. You can practically count the emotions swirling in her green eyes -- the one she registers and lands on quickly though, is confusion.

"Xaden... Y/N..." She pushes to a sitting position, Xaden clutching her shoulders and helping her readjust. She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, and looks around the room in confusion.

"Where... what is this?" She asks. Xaden sighs, hanging his head low. Her eyes meet yours in silent question, and you shrug. "Hey, I could ask the same thing. The more important thing right now is that you're awake..." You say.

"Awake and healing quickly," Xaden adds. His fingers have threaded through hers, and her confusion quickly turns to anger.

"Don't... don't think I've forgotten-" She yanks up the side of her shirt, revealing a dull purple bruise on her side. Angry black veins thread from the injury, and her gaze flicks back to Xaden.

"I haven't forgotten." Is all she says, and you feel sorry for Xaden. Sure; you're grateful your spitfire of a best friend is alive and well, but her gaze could cut right through him.

"I know." Is all he says, so hushed that you barely hear it. You nod once, and begin backing away from the bed.

"I'll... leave you guys for a while." You say. Xaden nods, and Violet shoots you a pleading glance. You can see her asking you not to leave her alone with him, but you know they have a lot to talk about.

You decide instead to head down the hallway outside the door, finding a kitchen shortly along your way. If you were going to give your friends space, you might as well do something productive. A million thoughts raced through your mind; where were you? Where were the others? How far from Basgiath were you? Not to mention the millions of thoughts plaguing your brain about your father, your brother; knowing what they were sending not only this section, but their own family into...

You shake your head. Productive. Rifling through the foreign cabinets, you look for something to make.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The afternoon sun is dipped low beyond the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of violet and navy as night falls. It didn't take long for the others to find you -- perhaps it was the smell of the dinner you'd scraped together that drew them in.

The first two days, Garrick or Bodhi were sent out to retrieve food for the group, and you decided by day three that you should lend a hand. After all, you'd been shown many house-chores like this over the years; your father never expected you to become a rider rather than a housewife, that is. Neither did your brother, and you knew he didn't like it one bit.

Your older brother Dain had always been protective over you; but his overprotection only intensified when your best friend's brother died, and he practically treated the two of you as though you were made of glass. When you'd braced the parapet, he looked ready to hurl, never expecting his little sister (or her fearless best friend, for that matter) to dare entering the rider's quadrant.

But, your appreciation for his overprotection died the moment he used his signet to send your section to certain death. Not only did he send you, his only sibling; but the girl he'd oogled over, swore so many times he loved with all of his heart, right along with you.

It didn't matter now. Everything was different.

"I don't know how you did it," Garrick smiles, sitting on the bench seat near the small dining table in the kitchen. "But you've got some skill, Y/N. I mean seriously, who scrounges all this up in a place they've never been, and produces such a delicious meal?" He shakes his head, shoveling a huge bite of stew into his mouth. You smile as Imogene makes her way into the space.

"Gods, I could simply kiss you for this," Bodhi follows her in, snatching up a bowl and waiting behind Imogene for his turn to scoop from the pot. You chuckle.

"You mean to tell me that you don't enjoy going out and hoping to return with food for us all?" You raise an eyebrow playfully, and before he can answer, Violet enters the kitchen. You instinctively make your way to her, and her pained smile emerges as she pulls you in for a light hug.

"How are you feeling?" Imogene chides, perching in a chair across from Garrick and looking Violet over. You let go of her, and she glances around to everyone.

"I'm... I'll be alright." She says, and you nod. Her eyes meet yours, and she quickly whispers, "We need to talk."

Your eyes widen, and you glance to the stove where the awaiting pot sits. "Violet, you haven't eaten in days-"

"It can wait." She rushes, taking hold of your wrist and all but dragging you into the hallway and out of earshot from the others. You glance around, and she sighs.

"Violet, I know you have questions; I mean, so do I, but-"

"Brennan is alive." She stares straight into your eyes, and a wave of adrenaline rushes over you at her words.

"Violet, what are you-"

"He's alive. He's here. Brennan. He's..." She fumbles, her hands clasping and releasing frantically. You place a hand on her shoulder lightly. "He's alive, Y/N." She says in finality. You shake your head, a small smile appearing on your lips.

"Violet, you might be thinking some wild things, they did give you a lot of medicine-" She grasps both of your shoulders with her hands, holding tight and giving you an incredulous look.

"Would I lie about something like this?" She whisper shouts. You furrow your brows at her.

"No! Gods no, I don't think you're lying, I just..." You shrug defeatedly. "He's been dead for six years, Vi. The last time we spoke of him..." Your throat tightens at the memory. "His soul was being condemned to Malek." The way the fire sparked as his belongings were thrown in. The way Violet cried for weeks, you sleeping in her room with her for sheer comfort. The way your heart tightened every time you thought of the way he used to look at you; his soft voice, so contrasted against his mother's uniformed nature. The way he'd lend you his books, sitting and talking with you for hours on end...

"Fine. Go see for yourself." She gestures down the hallway, the countless doors fading to dark as it stretched on. "Fifth door on the left. He's probably still in there." She says. You sigh, looking to her once more.

"Violet-"

"I'm going in to eat." She walks through the kitchen entryway once more, leaving you alone in the hallway. You sigh, wiping your clammy hands on your pants. You head down the hallway, counting the doors as you go. One, two, three... four...

You stood, face-to-face with the fifth wooden door, the only sound this far down the hall was your ragged breaths. You swallowed, raking your fingers through your hair as you remembered you'd been wearing the same, disgusting leathers for three days. If he really was on the other side of this door, you hated that the first thing he'd see of you in six years was... well, not your favorite look.

You knock softly, and the door creaks open. You hastily shove it open, breath catching as you peered around the room. The empty room, that is. Moving inside, you took in various things; tons of papers, many books, quills and ink pots upon the desk-

Your breath catches in your throat as you spot a tome that you'd recognized. It was one Brennan gave to you all those years ago, when you were nothing but a teenager with a crush. Your heart still fluttered at the feeling, the ache in your heart as fresh as it was the day he died.

You huff, not sure why you expected anything but this. VIolet was on many remedies, and there was no world in which a man that had died would come back to life, no matter how convincing your best friend sounded.

A small knock sounds on the door behind you, and your head whips around from the papers you'd begun staring at. Your heart immediately seizes as your eyes meet those familiar brown irises you'd longed for, for so, so long.

"Y/N?" Brennan whispers, and you can't help the immediate sting of tears behind your pupils as you look him up and down. It felt surreal; his cream-colored button down is only buttoned up half way; his fitted trousers outlining every muscle along his masculine legs. Your hand flies to your mouth as you gasp, the words choked behind a sob rising in your throat.

"Brennan?" You stutter, and his eyes widen as he immediately surpasses the door way. You don't stop yourself from stepping quickly toward him, throwing your arms around his neck as a soft cry escapes your lips. He was real. He was really real, he had to be. The ends of his brown curls, longer now than when you'd seen him last, tickle your forarms as you pull him close. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, lifting you on to your tip toes as he stands at his full height.

You can't contain the tears flowing from your eyes as you breathe him in deep; his familiar scent of cedar and cotton bringing you back to all of those special moments you'd shared before; sitting close, sharing stories and thoughts. All of those almosts.

Before he …died, anyway.

You pull back to look up at him, but he doesn't release you. Instead, his fingers card through your hair, stroking lovingly as he continues his embrace. You shake slightly, allowing every emotion taking over your mind to run free. You never thought you'd see, feel him again. All of your greif receeding as you accept the reality that you had only ever dreamed of.

"Y/N I'm... I'm so sorry." He whispers. You cry harder, only wishing he'd keep talking and convincing you this was real. But, you forced yourself to believe it was; the boy you loved, now in front of you once more, holding you, physically touching you-

"Gods, I missed you so much." You retreated from his hold, his hands still braced on your hips as your watery eyes bore into his. Taking him in, you realized he was different. Older. No more was the boy you'd been in love with six years ago; now before you, was a man. A handsome one, nonetheless.

"I... I don't..." you stutter, and a small smile braces his lips as his soft hands brush the few stray tears from your cheeks. "I... I don't know what to say." You admit, and his thumb brushes along your cheekbone.

"Well... at least you're saying something," he says, chuckling softly. The sound is like music to your ears, a sound you hadn't heard in so long. "I was afraid Violet would shread me with one of her daggers when I tried talking to her." You swallow, your gaze drifting to his mouth as he spoke.

"I... I don't say I could blame her," you say softly, your eyes reconnecting with his as shame takes over his expression once more. He sighs, the hands on your waist falling as he takes a step back. You immediately wish he wouldn't have, already hoping to be back in his embrace as soon as you could.

"Look, Y/N, I..." his eyes peer at the wall above you, as he seems to contemplate his words. "I never meant to hurt anyone, alright? I had to do it because-" You step forward, taking his hand in yours. You stare up at him longingly, shaking your head that this was all truly real.

"You can explain it all later," you say, and his mouth closes. You can't help but take in the familiar slant of his nose, his more defined jawline, the golden planes of his skin...

"You can't keep staring at me like that, Aetos." His voice has dropped so low it’s almost gravelly, as his gaze darkens upon glancing toward your mouth. You grin, your deft fingers unlacing his and moving to slide thorugh the mass of curls on his head softly.

"I'm just... I'm really, really happy you're okay." You whisper. His hands slide around you, finding purchase along the small of your back. You suck in a breath as he pulls you against him once more, and you spot the tears pooling along his waterline at your words.

"I thought you'd hate me," he whispers, his breath a gentle caress down the slope of your nose. His perfect lips, ones you'd pined over for years were so, so close. So... real. His chest lets out uneven breaths pushed up against yours, and your nerves threaten to eat you alive as you raise to your tippy toes once more to be eye-level with him.

"I don't think I could ever hate you, Brennan." He smiles, the motion only growing as your eyes search his once more. His perfect teeth are still the same; the sparkle in his eye, the way he chuckles softly. It's as if you're transported back in time.

"I didn't think I could love you more than I did the last day I saw you." A single tear slips, and your quick to catch it with your finger. As you retract your hand, his fingers are quick to curl around yours, holding your hands against his heart. Your brows knit in confusion as you lower your heels, but his grasp on you does not falter.

"You're..." you start. His hand caresses your cheek, guiding you as close to his lips as you could get without touching. Your heartbeat races as his thumb traces soft circles on the back of your hand pressed to his heart. His heartbeat picks up at the closeness, and you can't help but smile. Whether its anxiety, fear, pure love... you've never been quite the expert at sorting out your feelings anyway.

"I'm …what?" He whispers, and you can't stand it any longer. You lean up, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips. He stills, and you pull back, eyes as wide as his in shock.

"I'm so sorry, I-" He tugs you close again, your mouth colliding with his as he kisses you more forcefully. He keeps kissing you, both of his hands now cupping your face as yours grab onto the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. His lips part, allowing you access at your own pace; but you're quick to oblige, sliding your tongue along his bottom lip. A soft groan escapes his throat, and you inhale through your nose sharply at the sound. He's definitely more grown up than he was six years ago; more confident too. Gone was the shy, 19 year old who’d been deemed “too old” for you back then — now, he didn’t seem to mind the 5 year age gap now that you’d finally turned 20.

You continue indulging, before the strike of the clock from the hallway sounds. He doesn't seem to care as he explores your mouth; hands continuing their exploration, too. As the quiet overtakes the room once more, you finally pull back, gasping for air as he smirks down at you.

"I've waited… so long for that," he says, and your face heats. Little does he know, so have you. “Not coming back to find you, tell you I was alright was so hard, Y/N.” He leans back in for more, but you turn so his lips connect with your cheek instead.

"Oh, nuh uh," you hum. "You've got some explaining to do first before any of..." you motion between the two of you. "...this, continues." He rolls his eyes (glad to know he hasn't changed all that much), and backs up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Okay, okay." He says. "I have to be in a meeting, uh..." He glances quickly at his watch. Your eyes track the movement; wishing his delicious fingers were holding you close again. "Uh, now, actually." He laughs sheepishly.

"Better get to it, then." You fold your arms over your chest, tilting your chin up in mock confidence. His hand slides along your jaw one more time, and he gazes down into your eyes.

"Later, we'll talk. I promise," he says. You continue your confident expression as his hand retreats, and he heads for the door, leaving it open behind him. You wait a few seconds before you follow behind him, but freeze as you enter the hallway and are met with a familiar stare you've come to know all too well. Leaning against the wall is your best friend, a smirk so similar to her brothers plastered on her face as she pins you with an accusatory look.

"I told you he'd be in there."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[moonstruckme]

ok so i have acne like not too bad but to the point where i’m like insecure about it but today my sister pointed it out and it made me embarrassed😭 but to the point could you maybe do smth with remus or james and a reader like that? if not that ok 🫶

Thanks for requesting!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 727 words

James tugs at your bottom lip gently with his teeth, and a mortifyingly needy sound tears from the back of your throat. He follows it with a series of soft, sweet kisses. You like knowing that he’s tender with you when he doesn’t need to be, his hands big and capable and impossibly kind as they skate over your curves. You hold nothing back, fingernails biting into his bare shoulders and letting your full weight rest on his hips where you both lie on the bed. 

His hand climbs up your back, keeping you close, and migrates upward to cup the back of your neck. You deepen the kiss. Your mouth is harsh and wanting against his, every inch of you buzzing, but when his hand moves to hold the side of your face, you freeze.

James feels the change instantly. He breaks the kiss and lets his head fall to the mattress, putting a couple of inches between you. He’s giving you a concerned, quizzical look.  

“Sorry,” you say, laughing at yourself. 

“S’alright.” The hand not on your face makes a pass up and down your hip, an attempt to soothe the nervousness he can sense but not place. “You okay?” 

“Yeah.” You cover his hand with yours and give him a small smile. “Sorry, just, it’s bumpy there.” 

James hums. Not in denial, but in confusion. “What about it?”

You recoil a bit at the acknowledgement, your skin heating. “Jamie,” you say, and your voice is soft, almost chiding. “It’s embarrassing.” 

His brows bunch. “Is it?” 

“Yeah.” A nervous laugh trips off your tongue. You can’t stop yourself from imagining what he’s feeling, the odd, oily bumps beneath his fingertips. “It is.” 

He finally takes the hint to move his hand from your face, stroking at the skin just under your ear instead. “Sorry, angel, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he says, eyes warm and earnest. “I hope you know that I don’t care about your acne, though.” 

Your acne. It’s stupid, but just the label sends a wave of shame through you. You hate that James has noticed it. That it’s not as imperceptible and unobtrusive as you like to pretend. You feel like such an idiot, thinking that if he didn’t touch it he’d never know. 

“You don’t?” Your tone is leaden with disbelief. 

“Honey.” James looks almost hurt, though for which one of you you’re not sure. His palm strokes your hip lovingly. “Of course not. It’s just your skin, you know? It’s not a big deal.” 

“I mean, I try to get rid of it,” you say, feeling as though you need to make your case. “I use a bunch of skincare products, pimple cream and all that. It just won’t ever all go away, I don’t know.” 

“That’s okay, that’s fine.” His hand moves to rub your back, and he shakes his head at you. “I mean, you can do whatever you want. You’ll always be beautiful.” 

Oh. Okay. Sure. You roll your eyes. “You have to say that.” 

He makes a funny face, appearing caught between laughter and bafflement. “No, I don’t.” He takes your face in his hand again, ignoring you when you protest. “The first thing you need to understand is that I’m not a prisoner in this relationship, angel. I am bewitched. You’re bewitching, understand?” You laugh, face growing warm beneath his hand. James smiles with you. “To be clear, I love you for more than your looks, but they do sweeten the deal. Nothing as silly as acne is going to make you less lovely. I signed on for the whole package, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want you any different.” 

“James.” You let your forehead rest on his, doing your very best not to think about the pimples you have there, too. You’re burning alive in your skin. “You’re too sweet to me.” 

“Just telling the truth, m’love.” He holds you steady to kiss the tip of your nose, and when his thumb soothes over the bumps on your cheek, the touch is so adoring your heart very nearly breaks. 

You kiss the stubble on his jaw. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” James grins as he dips back down to your mouth. When he pulls away, a playful light glints in his eyes. “Now, can I get back to showing you how much, please?”

[devilishchaos]

BABYYY drop the daddy Ruben fic, don't be shy <3

Calls | Dad!Rúben Dias imagine

Rating / genre: pure fluff

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Summary: Rúben goes on a business trip. Me and our son George are sad he is away, so we face time him.

Warnings: use of pet names "babe", "baby"

Word Count: 1 347 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

While begging my husband to go on this 3 day business trip, I thought to myself "What can happen in the span of 3 days, right?"  Well, a lot. 

I'm currently 27 weeks pregnant with twins and have a year and a half year old baby-toddler that needs my attention 24/7. Not that I am complaining but the pregnancy alone is being hard on me and my beautiful son throwing constant tantrums about missing his dad doesn't help my situation. Now, I was usually the preferred parent, but George had the tendency to not want to eat and nap while Rúben was away.

Today was going to be a long and hard day for me, I just knew it. I woke up from my nap at 7:00 am, got ready and headed to wake George up because I had an appointment with my OBGYN in an hour and had no one to look after him while I was gone, so I had to take him with me. 

It was a battle but I somehow managed to get him ready for the day, made it to my appointment safely and on time and both of us were back in the coziness of our household before we knew it. 

The moment we stepped through the door - the nausea hit me. And my head started spinning. I somehow made it to the bedroom and laid down on the bed and tried to take deep breaths in hopes for it to go away faster. I closed your eyes for a second and out of nowhere a loud cry pierced the silence. 

With eyes wide open, all my senses on alert, I sat up in the bed and looked at the door to see George standing there, tears falling from his eyes and his tiny hands holding his favorite stuffed animal close to his chest. 

"What happened baby? Are you okay?" I asked, holding out my hands in his direction. 

"Dada.." he managed to say in between wheezing. 

I gave him a sad knowing look. Ever since he was born he was a mama's boy but ever since I got pregnant again he looked up to Rúben more and more, and wanted to do everything that he was doing whether it was directed towards me or other people. And Rúben was the happiest person on earth, soaking in every moment because he knew that it could be taken away from him just as fast as it came. 

"You miss daddy, huh bud?" I softly asked as I helped him get up on the bed to join me. 

He nodded, the movement making his tiny curls shake a little. 

"How about we call him? Would that make you feel better?" 

"Yeah.." George mumbled, while wiping his eyes.

I was already reaching for my phone before I got an answer from him. Since Rúben is in New York and we are in Manchester there is a 5 hour time difference, but it was now way after noon in Manchester and knowing Rúben, he had been awake for some time, so that's why I suggested calling him. Okay and maybe because I miss him too and want to talk to him, but that's another topic. 

I dialed his contact and gave George the phone. After two rings I saw Rúben's gorgeous face and he saw a head full of curls and two big dark eyes watching closely the screen, since George held the phone so close to him. 

"Hey, gorg-" your husband started "-oh, hello big man. What are you doing with mama's phone?" you saw him smiling widly. 

"Dada, miss you." George said and started crying again. 

"Oh, no. Don't cry buddy. I miss you so much too." 

"Home." 

"I'm coming home tomorrow, baby and I'm not going anywhere after that, okay?" Rúben asked as a sad smile made its way on his face. 

"Home now?" George asked as he tilted his head slightly the exact same way Rúben does and it made your heart throb. 

"I wish buddy, but I have one more thing to do and then I promise I'm gonna catch the first flight back home and I'm coming straight to you. But I need you to do something for me, okay. You have to eat lunch and dinner, and you have to go to sleep when mommy says. Can you do that for me? That way I'm going to come home faster. Do we have a deal, G?" Rúben asked, slightly raising his eyebrows. 

"A deal.." his son responded while rubbing his eye "Now play." 

"Okay, you can go and play now. Loves you." your husband said as he leaned into the camera and kissed it, your guys's little tradition that now George did too. 

"Loves you." George said cutely and kissed your front camera. He gave you the phone and ran out of your bedroom and into his playroom. 

I took the phone and positioned it against my big water bottle in front of me as I greeted my hansome husband "Hi, meu amor." 

"Hey, mama. How are you holding up? Big man giving you a hard time?" Rúben asked you giving you sad eyes. 

"He just misses you." I exhaled "Nothing changed after the call yesterday, we're going to see what happens today. I miss you too, tho. We miss you too." I simply explained rubbing my round belly.  

"I'm sorry babe. I miss all of you. Can't wait to be back home. I'm never leaving again." he shook his head as to make it more believable.

"Rúben, we talked about this. What you're doing right now is for your career and for us. So that you can take more time off while the twins come, just as you did when we welcomed George. Don't feel guilty, you're not doing anything wrong, babe. We'll get through this. We have to. In fact it's almost over." I smiled at him trying to lighten the mood. 

"This is why I made you my wife. Eu te amo muito." Rúben said looking lovingly at the screen in front of him. 

"I love you more." 

"Period." he said while snapping his fingers, which made both of you to start giggling.

"Stop. I'm gonna pee my pants!" I said in between laughing. 

"Okay, okay. So how did the appointment go? Everything alright?" Rúben's face went completely serious in a spare of seconds. 

"Yes. Babies are doing just fine." I said and took a breathing break "I however, am struggling. Babe, I'm 27 weeks into this pregnancy and do you know what my doctor told me? That I'm measuring full term compared to a singleton pregnancy. That's very overwhelming considering that I hopefully have 8 or 9, 10 weeks left in the absolute ideal case scenario. And technically I am still 6 months pregnant. At the very end of my 6th month. Can you believe this?" I looked at him with a questioning face. 

Rúben's eyes went wide "Wow." 

"Wow indeed. I mean..that's what I get for having children with a freaking giant, I guess." 

"Hey. You looooove this giant. And the babies that you both made." Rúben winked at me, eyes going soft and a smile appearing on his lips "Everything will be okay. Just try not to overwork yourself. And no, I'm not saying don't do nothing and just lay in bed all day. But you are very pregnant and are taking care of a fussy baby-toddler. Please, just take it easy while I'm away. When I come back it will be different." 

"I'm gonna try my best. Now I have to go to make a snack because I'm starving and you have work to do. So talk to you later. You also take it easy, okay." I lovingly smiled at him, damn I can't wait for it to be tomorrow already. 

"Alright, talk to you later. Loves you." 

"Loves you." both of us said at the same time, smiling at each other, leaning in and kissing the front cameras on our phones, sharing a virtual kiss and ending the call.

[honeytama]

Take Me There

Nick Folio x Fem!Reader

A/N: Have been in such a Folio mood lately and could not stop thinking about this scenario. Enjoy!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Nick, is riding to Florida with his friends while you’re stuck at home. While you’re missing your sexy biker, maybe bringing up a fantasy to him while he’s alone will cheer you up?

Content and Warnings: Established relationship, smut 18+, switch Folio, masturbation, JOI (jerk off instructions)/phone sex, the helmet stays on…

Word Count: 3k

Tag List (for all works): @thisbicc

“Baby, call me whenever you need me,” Nick wraps an arm around your waist and presses a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping toward the door with his helmet in hand. “I promise I’ll answer wherever I am.”

“I will. I love you,” you say sweetly as he steps out of your shared place.

“I love you!” He yells, his voice muffling as he pulls the front door closed behind him.

It’s early, the sun not having come up yet, and you stand alone in your house with sleepy eyes and pajamas. Nick’s gone and you’re already missing him.

Heading back to bed, you splay out on both his and your sides soaking in the warmth he’s left behind and stuffing your nose in his pillow. The scent of his leftover hair product and shampoo makes you melt away.

Nick would be gone for a few days on a motorcycle trip with a couple of guys from his motorcycle club riding down to Florida. You’re used to him being away, but this time it feels different. You wanted so badly to ask him if you could tag along and make it a vacation for the two of you, however you knew how much he missed having his freedom. He’s constantly talking about the trips he wants to take with his buddies and as his girlfriend, you don’t have the heart to ever take him away from those; especially when he gets so giddy and talks so dreamily. 

Also, Nick’s promise to pick up the phone isn’t a new one, you’re constantly texting him and talking to him while he’s on tour or at festivals. You really can’t bear to go one day without hearing his voice.

—

Your phone buzzes while you relax on the couch that afternoon with a book. Pulling it from the cushion, you eagerly anticipate a message from him. Your face lights up at his name on your screen.

Folio ♡: We’re at a gas station. Over halfway there, can’t wait to send you pics from the beach tomorrow.

Now knowing he’ll have some time to talk, you press the call button. He answers almost immediately.

“Hey, baby! I just filled up… Just waiting for the guys,” you can hear his toothy smile through the call. “How’s your day so far? Missing me?”

Nick has a system in his helmet that allows him to answer your call without taking it off. No one can hear the sounds coming from it, whether it’s music or voice calls from his friends on the road. However, if he’s too loud, the helmet can’t muffle his voice enough allowing everyone around him to hear what he’s saying. 

“It’s going well. I’m just reading on the couch waiting for the day you come home,” you giggle. “But, don’t worry about me, Nick, have fun, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” he sighs. “You’re on my mind, still. I hope you know that.”

“I do. I’m thinking about you, too,” your empty hand finds itself on your lower stomach. Lazy, yet sensual circles are traced on your skin over the thin material of your top. Nick is probably thinking innocently, but you can’t help but imagine how he looks in his riding gear. Flannel, leather vest, boots… “By the way, how are the leather pants I got you working out?”

He looks down at his legs as he sits on his bike, reminded of when you shared with him your intrigue over sports biker’s leather. You got him a pair of leather sports pants with knee pads telling him it was for his safety, but secretly, he knew it was because you wanted to see what he would like in them. 

He smirks before answering, “I like how they look, but my junk is being destroyed. I think it’s because it’s my first time wearing them. I’m gonna go into the gas station to change into jeans after you hang up.” He chuckles. 

You cross your legs, squeezing your thighs together for purchase. Why did he have to bring his junk to mind? Now, you’re really thinking about him.

“Well, maybe before you change,” you say slowly. “You could readjust yourself? Maybe it’ll help?”

Little do you know, he’s half-hard beneath the fabric of his pants just from the sweet sound of your voice, his cock straining against his zipper eager to be released.

Nick takes a peak over his shoulder, to the left and right, before grabbing his groin and massaging the velvety black leather hoping the movement will be enough to readjust his cock to the side of his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear. “Baby, I can’t believe you have me touching myself in public.”

You hold the phone away from your face, giggling into your hand. Teasingly talking into your phone again, “Do you feel better, Folio?”

“Still hurts,” he groans into his microphone. “I bet you’re just imagining my hand wrapping around myself, huh?” He laughs softly.

“Mhm,” you hum in his ear. “Go change into your jeans, baby,” you coo. “Can’t have the new pants wrecking you before you get back to me.” 

You hear Nick say something under his breath, “Oh, my God.”

“You can try breaking the pants in more on your ride back,” you suggest.

“Are you teasing me because I left you behind, Y/N?” Nick asks curiously, you can hear a sly smile creeping behind his question.

“Nuh-uh,” you giggle. “Just having fun with you. I’ll call you later tonight when you’re finally at your hotel.”

“I’ll be expecting it,” he huffs, already exhausted with your little game. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” you hang up and stuff your phone back into the cushion to return your book.

Nick will do whatever you ask him to in the bedroom. Anything you want, you get; whether it’s to have his hands around your throat and to spank you until you scream or to let you ride him until he’s a puddle of a man, whimpering with each grind of your hips.

He makes you feel like the only girl in the world, and you plan to show him just how special he is too.

—

Nick has settled into his hotel room alone. The plush, king-sized bed calls to him as he’s dressed down to deep gray cotton shorts, crew socks, and a Bad Omens merch tee. 

You’re also in bed having eaten dinner and winding down for the night in your pajamas. Propped up against your pillows, you text him eagerly, hoping he’s in the mood to play some more of your game.

You: Hey, baby. Did you make it safe? Are you settled in?

Folio ♡: Yeah, I’m in bed. Gonna go to sleep soon and then to the beach in the morning

Folio ♡: Still thinking about the little stunt you pulled earlier today

The message makes you squirm on your sheets. You want to indulge yourself and stuff your hand into your bottoms, but tonight is about him. 

You: Can you do something for me?

Folio ♡: Anything

You return his message with a sly smile.

You: Put your helmet on

Folio ♡: Y/N

You: Please!

You: And take your shirt off if you’re wearing one

You wait a few minutes before he texts back.

Folio ♡: 1 Attachment

He sends a photo of himself under the soft, yellow light of his bedside lamp leaning against the quilted headboard of his hotel bed. His matte black helmet adorns his head and even with the reflection of his phone and pristine hotel room in the tinted visor, you can see his dark eyes staring you down. 

You giddily bite your finger at the sight of cheeks slightly squished inside and neck tattoo peeking through the bottom. 

Folio ♡: For my little freak

You press the call button and he answers through his helmet after a couple of seconds.

“Nick?” You coo through your phone mic.

In bed, he tilts his head, leaning into your voice as if you’re there singing his name in his ear. He ignores how the speakers of his helmet warp your voice just a bit. It’s just you.

“Y/N,” he replies breathily. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just in bed—,” you start.

“No, baby, what are you up to? Why am I wearing my helmet?” His tone urges you to confess assuming your plans are nefarious.

Wiggling your feet on the soft sheets, you smile against the phone pressed to your cheek. “Oh, I just think you look so good in it,” you spit out quickly. “No other reason… By the way, are you comfortable?” 

“I knew it!” His voice comes through your ear excitedly. “I knew you had a thing for my riding gear... And, yes, I’m comfortable?” His tone changes back to inquisitorial.

“Good.” Time to begin, you think. “I should have told you sooner, but yeah, I like the idea of you in your riding gear. I have a fantasy I want to tell you about.”

“I already assumed after you begged me to wear the leather pants for this trip and me in my gear on my last trip is your lock screen…,” he crosses his arms over his chest, listening to you intently. “Go ahead and tell me. What’s going on in the freaky little head of yours?”

“So you know what it does to me, then, huh?” You sigh softly. “Imagine it with me,” you coo. “We’re on the road together. Just you and me on your back as we ride through the middle of nowhere. I have my arms wrapped around your waist and maybe I get bored because we’ve been riding for so long, so my hands start inching lower, down your stomach, towards your groin—,”

“You’re gonna make us crash,” he interrupts you, chuckling through your speaker. 

You roll your eyes. “Patience, baby, it’s called a fantasy for a reason,” you smile and continue. “Your cock hardens as I fondle you over your jeans as we’re going 80mph alone down a country road. Your hands caress my thighs at your side and your bulge presses against your leather seat, but it just isn’t enough to get you off. You can’t keep riding with me safely while you’re turned on and distracted, right?”

“No, I can’t,” Nick sighs dreamily before clearing his throat. “How do you come up with things like this?” His voice is soft now as he submits to your fantasy.

“I like daydreaming about things I want you to do to me. Are you getting hard, baby?” You ask, tilting your head teasingly as if he can see you.

“Yeah,” Nick doesn’t even realize that his breathing has got heavy; his heart rate speeding up at the crude thoughts you're inserting into his mind.

“Tell me how hard you are,” you push him. Your empty hand soothingly brushes over the tops of your thighs anticipating his response.

“Hard as a rock,” he groans. “Keep going, baby.” Nick curls his toes anxiously wanting to pull his shorts past his hips, but he suspects you’ll be the one to let know when he’s allowed to.

“Good. You pull over to the side of the road and ask me to get on my knees in the dirt—,” 

“What are you wearing while on our ride?” Nick's hands roam over his chest and lower stomach searching for something to do before he can fuck his fist.

“Whatever you want me to wear, baby,” you coo. A relishing grin grows on your face as he feeds his own imagination. You fidget with the hem of your pajamas happily.

His breath catches as if he’s thinking through his favorite pieces of your wardrobe. He hums satisfyingly before answering, “You’re wearing some of those see-through tights and a little, black leather skirt.”

“Mhm,” you agree with his addition to your story. “I’m on my knees unzipping your jeans. I’m pulling them and the band of your underwear down just enough for me to hold your hard cock in my hand,” you pause. “Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Please,” he begs into your ear. “Tell me what to do.”

“Glide your hands down your stomach until you reach your waistband. I want you to feel how soft you are to me,” you instruct. “Then, pull your shorts down your thighs, okay? Don’t put a hand on yourself just yet.”

Nick follows your instructions to a tee. Guiding his fingers over his bare, tattooed stomach, he brushes his palm lightly over the hardened print in his shorts before pulling them down his toned thighs. 

“Lift your helmet and spit into your hand, baby,” you tell him and he follows suit.

Pulling up the bottom of his helmet, you hear him spit into his palm before placing it back on. 

“Imagine me taking you into my mouth,” you say in a low tone. “Slowly, wrap your fingers around your tip.”

Nick brings his forefinger and thumb over his tip gently pushing the two down slowly over his cock while imagining your soft, plush lips taking him in. He sighs in contentment at his first real touch of himself all day since you taunted him at the gas station that afternoon. 

“Do you want me to take you all into my mouth? I’ll let you fuck it,” you talk sweetly into your phone. 

Your words seem to flip a switch in his demeanor. “If I had you on your knees, baby, then there’s no way we’re getting home without me grabbing the back of your head and thrusting my hips into your face,” he’s hissing into your ear rabidly now.

“Do it, Animal,” you taunt him.

“You little—,” he scoffs at your use of his club nickname. Nick eagerly wraps his hand around his shaft, coating himself in his fluids imagining it’s the deep wetness of your mouth around him. 

“I wish I could see how much pre-cum you���ve leaked. Love the way it beads out of you, baby. It tastes so sweet too. My favorite part about being on my knees for you,” you sing into his helmet.

Nick rolls his thumb over himself gathering the clear, dripping liquid from his tip, and mixes it with his saliva. His eyes roll back into his skull as he strokes himself quickly.

“Are you gagging on my cock, Y/N?” He asks, still stuck in the fantasy you’ve described for him. “Need your spit dripping down your chin for me. Need to see your pretty eyes filled with tears.”

“Yes,” you melt to his words and clench your thighs together. He wouldn’t mind if you brought your hand down your pajama bottoms, too, right? You set the call to speaker and place it next to you before beginning to rub satiating circles over your clothed clit imagining him pleasuring himself alone. “Keep going.”

He grunts through the speakerphone. “So close, gonna cum in your mouth,” he announces. “Swallow it.”

You hum slyly at his words, “Don’t you want to cum in my pussy?”

“Fuck, yes,” he moans while slowing his hand, edging himself off his orgasm.

“You pull my lips off of your cock and ask me to stand. You're such a sweetie for rubbing the dirt off my knees,” you giggle.

“You’re welcome,” he chokes out with a laugh. “Then what?”

“Then, you’re not so sweet. You push my hips first into the seat of your bike, folding me over it until my pussy is right at the height you like,” you describe.

“Gonna rip your tights open around your cunt and pull your skirt up over your hips,” he asserts, continuing the fantasy for you. “I’ve always wanted to fuck you over the side of my bike.”

“You’re doing so good, Nick,” you praise. “Now, slide in and fuck me.” 

His gruff moans come through your phone disgustingly as he thrusts his hips into his curled fist. You’re glad you and him don’t live in an apartment or else your neighbors would hear the filthy things spewing from his lips. 

“Take my cock. Take it all.”

“Feels so good. Love you wrapped around me.”

“Your pussy was made for me.”

“Do you want to cum, Animal?” You ask him sultrily.

“Yes, fuck, yes, please,” he whines. “Gonna coat your insides.”

“Cum for me, then,” you instruct.

“Oh, shit,” he moans loudly and bucks his hips into his slick fist as he comes undone. Ropes of his cum coat his stomach until he's spent and the rest spills over the thumb wrapped around his tip. Your name continuously falls off his lips in different tones: dreamily and roughly.

As he comes down, he shakily breathes through your speaker and his breaths gradually turn into soft laughter in disbelief at the experience you’ve put him through. “That was amazing. Did you get off, too?” He asks hopefully. 

“Thank you for entertaining me,” you smile while picking the phone back up to your ear. “I was touching myself a bit,” you admit to him. “But, I’m going to use my toys once you nod off to sleep.”

“Now, that’s payback for me leaving you behind,” he scoffs with a laugh. “You have no idea the things I’m gonna do to you when I get back.”

“Can’t wait for it,” you say slyly as your fingers brush over the wet spot you’ve made through the material of your pajamas. 

“I’m never leaving you at home again.”

[landos-meat-rider]

mastermind, part four

ok ok ok here's part four i dont rly have much to say here bc i said everything on part three but i hope you like this one and dw guys im gonna try publish part five asap im starting writing it tonight, productive era fr 🙌💯

warnings: slight angst, swearing, injury, protective theo😋😋

masterlist

theodore nott masterlist

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y/n’s pov

“Hello Y/N.”

I look up from my place on the grass where I was tying my shoes.

Oh. Him again.

“Hi, Cormac.” I say with a tight-lipped smile, standing up, and walking over to where I left my broom when I was practising.

Cormac follows me like a lost puppy and says, “So uhm how’ve you been?”

It’s been almost four months of this. He comes over to wherever I am and follows me asking pointless questions about the weather or lessons and it would’ve been fine if he wasn’t making uncomfortable inappropriate jokes in between. It’s December now, nearly time for the Yule Ball and I need to shake Cormac off my tail sometime soon or I'll have no hope of finding a date this year.

“Just fine Cormac, what about you?” I say mindlessly, trying to devise ideas to get him away politely.

“I’m good…would be better with you in my bed though…” he says, smoking at me as I give him a disgusted look and stop walking.

Forget trying to be nice, this guy’s a creep.

“Okay Cormac, let's settle this. What’s all this really about? I mean you’ve been following- no practically stalking me for months now, and if it wasn’t creepy enough without the inappropriate jokes, it sure as hell is now. So what do you actually like me or just want to get in my pants?” I say angrily at him, clutching my broom in my hands so hard, my knuckles turn white.

He looks started by my outburst at first but quickly replies and says, “Uhm no, no! Of course I like you Y/N, I just wanted to know if you had a date for the Yule Ball yet?” with the furrows of my brows he leans forward and speaks lowly to me in a more threatening tone, “Sure would be a shame if the whole school found out the truth about your favourite uncle.”

Sirius? What the fuck?

I push him away, “Get the fuck away from me you freak!” I go to leave before he grabs me by my wrist and speaks again, “Come to the ball with me and I won’t say a word about him to anyone,”

“Cormac let go of me,” I say, struggling in his tightening grip.

“Just say yes. Say yes and I’ll let go and no one will have to hear about your uncle.”

“Get away from me!” I shout at him, stomp on his foot and punch his nose the hardest I could, feeling his bones crunching beneath mine. Or maybe it was both our bones.

I hold my now numb hand and leave him on the empty field holding his bloody nose and groaning while I run straight to the castle.

I run aimlessly for about three minutes, turning every which way not expecting anyone to be out in the hallways at this time, “Everyone would be in lessons right now” I think before, to my surprise, I turn the corner and I’m face to face with Theo.

He takes hold of me from my arms before I collapse into him and looks at me in surprise with a cigarette in between his soft pink lips.

I mumble out a quick ‘Sorry’ and move to leave, maybe go back to my common room to look for Hermione but he stops me before I can go anywhere.

His alarmed eyes and lifted brows look down at the tears on my face and the redness around my wrist and knuckles. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, discarding it on the floor before putting it out with his shoe, takes me gently by the other hand and leads me to the hospital wing.

“Theo, no, I’m fine don’t worry.” I try and reassure him, “I don’t need Madam Pomfrey all over me right now, a potion from Hermione can fix me right up, I promise.”

He ignores me and takes me to an empty bed, telling me to rest my hand and sit still, before moving away to find Madam Pomfrey.

When shes checked me over and given me the right medications, he stares down at me but doesn't say a word until I ask, “What?”.

His reply is cold and quiet, “Who did this to you?”

I try brushing the question off, “Don’t worry about it Theo, I handled it fine.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” he says, looking down at my bandaged hand, and asks again, “Who did this to you Y/N?”

I sigh before answering, “You promise you won’t do anything illegal?”

“I promise.” he says and I extend my pinky on my good hand towards him. His hard expression softens slightly before he extends his and joins our pinkies together muttering another ‘promise’.

“Cormac. He got mad at me because I didn’t want to go to the ball with him and threatened to tell everyone some things about my family.” I say quietly, looking down.

theo’s pov

I don’t say anything as blood rushes to my head, my knuckles already forming into fists, my jaw clenching and my feet turning around to go find the prick.

“No Theo!’ Y/N says after me, trying to grab my arm and stop me from beating the rat up but I hold her hand as gently as I can and ask her to “Please rest Y/N, I’ll be back soon and I promise I won’t do anything too bad.”

“No Theo, please just drop it, it’s fine.” she tries to reassure me.

“What? No it’s not, first of all, he shouldn’t have touched you in the first place, but to hold you like that and threaten you? He’s begging for it now.” I turn to leave again, trying to find him somewhere in this massive castle, trying to calm down before I remember the look on Y/N’s face and all the anger comes rushing back like an extreme storm wave. Fuck this.

I walk around the castle quickly, keeping my eyes and ears open for any signs of the snake until I catch something near the bushes.

“No man, bitch fucked me right over. Broke my nose and everything. But I mean to be fair I do like them feisty if you know what I mean.” I hear his voice like venom before he laughs with his friends.

Before I know it, I’m being pulled away by Mattheo and Draco as Cormac’s friends grab him by his bloody torn shirt. Splatters of his blood are on mine but nowhere near as bad as his.

I had stayed quiet during the whole fight, speaking only with my punches and getting my message across.

A huge crowd has gathered by this point and I’m being assisted to McGonagall’s office by Mattheo and Draco patting me on the back with the teacher in front of us. I know I’ll get detention for a month, maybe two, and probably won’t be able to play Quidditch for a few weeks either but who cares.

It was for her and I don’t regret a fucking thing.

y/n’s pov

I walk down the great dining hall with everyone's eyes on me, whispering things to people around them. More than usual.

I take my usual seat next to Ginny and Hermione and look around at everyone, asking, “What’s going on?”. Ron, Harry and Hermione look at each other awkwardly before Hermione speaks up, “You don’t know what’s happened?”

“No?”

“That boyfriend of yours beat McLaggen up so bad he’s had to go to St. Mungo’s,” Ron speaks up against the silence and my blood turns cold as my stomach flips over.

“What?!” I say, alarmed.

“Yeah mate, everyone saw it… he was ruthless. Didn’t stop until the bloke couldn’t stand up by himself” Harry agrees with Ron as they turn to look at the Slytherin table behind and see Theo talking normally with his friends.

“He deserved it to be fair, I don’t blame Nott for beating him up the way he did.” Hermione says before asking about my hand.

“It’s all fine now, nothing major just a few broken bones.” I say turning my wrist and flexing my fingers before turning to Ron and answering his previous accusation, “And he’s not my boyfriend Ron, he’s just a friend.”

“Yeah well Harry and Cho Chang are friends but you don’t see him going around beating Cedric up.” Ron says stupidly, making Ginny tense up and Hermione glare at him from across the table as I take Ginny’s hand under it.

“Hey Hermione do you have a spare paper and quill?” I ask after we’ve all eaten our dinner and most of the people in the dining hall have cleared off.

“Yes of course, what for?” she asks, pulling a blank piece of paper and quill out of her bag and passing it to me. “I need to send a note.” I say vaguely before scribbling down:

meet me in the astrology tower after curfew.

I pull my wand out of my pocket and perform the paper bird charm, passing the note to Theo on the other side of the hall.

We all watch as he receives it, reads it and looks up at me, and winks. He asks Pansy for a quill and writes back:

See you there darling

I smile, putting the note into my pocket as Hermione squeals at me, Harry smiles and Ron makes a face of throwing up. “And that Ronald, is why you still don’t have a date to the Yule Ball. Speaking of which Harry do you have yours yet?” 

“Yep, I do actually.”

“Oh yeah? Who is it?” Ron asks looking over at Harry. Hermione and I give each other a knowing look as Harry says, “Uhm, I’m not at liberty to say.”

Harry gets up to leave to escape the conversation as Hermione and I laugh after him and Ron trailing not too far behind, pestering Harry and threatening him if it's his sister.

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“Hey” I hear a soft deep voice behind me as I stare up at the stars from the tower.

I turn around and find Theo wearing a deep red jumper and red plaid pyjamas, holding two cups of hot chocolate coincidently matching with my red plaid shorts and red jumper with my initial on it, courtesy of Mrs Weasley of course.

We smile at each other as he comes close and asks how my hand is, “All better, see” I flex my hand once again to prove it to him and we sit in silence for a few minutes drinking the hot chocolate he’d gotten from the kitchen.

“So,” he starts slowly sipping his hot chocolate and looking over at me in the dim light, “What did you want to talk about?”

I take a breath before answering, “Why did you do that?”

His eyebrows furrow, “Do what?”

I give him a knowing look and he looks away with a smile in response which drops quickly when thoughts of Cormac come back in his mind. “Guy’s a git. Doesn’t deserve you.” He says plainly bringing the cup to his lips again. I look at him for a minute, observing his long eyelashes and soft skin and look away just when he looks at me.

“Have you got a date to the ball yet?” He says in the comfortable silence.

I look back at him getting lost for a moment in his soft blue eyes. I shake my head in response.

He nods, looking down before downing the rest of his hot chocolate and standing up.

He reaches out a hand towards me and pulls me up from my place on the stairs and says, “Would you go with me if I asked?”

I look up at his eyes once again, seeing a hint of fear behind the blue, “If you asked dickhead.”

He laughs at this, nods and kisses me on the cheek before leaving.

“See you later star.”

“Star?” I say in question, my cheeks burning from his touch.

He doesn’t say a word or turn around, but simply holds out his middle finger, flipping me off which confuses me more until I see the silver ring I made him resting at the bottom of it.

I smile to myself as he walks away, leaving my face flushed and heart swollen.

What am I getting myself into.

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part four done, lmk what you think!!

taglist: @timmytime17 @cherry-hoe @jetblackpayne @ash-tarte @coolestgirlhere

[1-800-c0sm1c]

Hey!! Sorry if I’m doing this wrong I am new to this kinda stuff but do u mind writing headcanons on how the p5 phantom thief boys would take care of the reader when they’re on their period? If not it’s fine!

꒰baby im yours !꒱

p5 boys when their s/o is on their period headcannons !

character x afab!reader

includes joker, ryuji, yusuke, and akechi !

warnings : mentions of periods, obviously lol

a/n : its shark week for yours truly so i thought now is the best time to write this :D i wasnt sure what gendered reader you wanted, so i just decided to leave it as afab, hope thats alright :))

JOKER // REN AMAMIYA

maybe this is biased, but i feel out of everyone on this list hes the most prepared.

like, hes not overbearing but he knows just enough to spare you both any awkward conversations.

he doesnt have any feminine products in his bathroom since its technically shared with leblanc customers and he doesnt want to embarrass you or anyone else, but you know theres always a few of whatever you need in his school bag or his dresser!

hes a very calm person, which can be very relieving, especially when you accidentally bleed on something.

you both were hanging out one day after school, and when you got up off of his bed to go make some food, you noticed a red spot on the sheets.

you were internally freaking out, trying to figure out what to do knowing how some guys tend to find it gross, while ren literally just comments "dont worry about it, i needed motivation to do laundry anyways." and asks if you need anything.

you feel like youve just been given whiplash, no way thats it, hes so cool with it?

he even gives you a pair of his boxers and sweatpants since you bled through your clothes, and when you come out of the bathroom hes got a steaming hot cup of coffee and some chocolates on the counter all ready for you. <3

SKULL // RYUJI SAKAMOTO

confused, embarrassed, and a little bit (a lot) dramatic. he tries to act like its not a big deal, but in reality he doesnt really know anything about periods, and hes convinced youre secretly in a lot of pain. (which i mean, you could be depending on cramps… but you get what i mean.)

hes horribly uneducated on this topic, and definitely the worst person to be stuck with when you start. 

hes calling ann asking her to explain what to do with the reddest face youve ever seen. 🧍

ryuji definitely thought it was a little gross at first too, but once he understood it was just a normal thing your body did he felt more okay about it.

hes trying super hard to be a good boyfriend, but hes stuttering over his questions. barely able to ask you if he needs to get you anything.

i swear his eyes almost popped out of his head when you said all you wanted was for him to shut up and cuddle with you. 💀💀

he tries to be there for you as much as possible, but if you tend to get more angry, just note that hell try to stay away a bit. 

he has issues keeping his temper under control, even when it comes to you, and he doesnt want to start any unnecessary arguments.

at the end of the day, communication is key when it comes to you guys relationship, he just wants whats best for both of you!

FOX // YUSUKE KITAGAWA

yusuke has probably never felt the touch of another human being before you so hes very… confused to say the least.

what do you mean youre bleeding? and its normal? this happens monthly? his mind is blown.

i dont see him being weird in the way he wants to use your period as inspiration for a painting, but weird in the way that hell track it.

maybe this just a personal thing who finds it weird when a guy wants to track when your on your cycle, but it seems right up yusukes alley 😭.

hes a little strange, and he just wants to help! but he also doesnt really know what hes doing, so his presence can be a bit overwhelming.

gets pouty when you end up snapping at him, but once you explain why hes a lot more aware of how much hes bothering you.

hes also willing to get you whatever you need, as long as youre buying.

one time you had asked him to get you pads/tampons, and he called you 30 minutes later saying that he didnt have any money…

however, unlike someone else on this list, hes not embarrassed about it. more so genuinely curious, as he loves learning about you and he thinks its important to know how your body works!

hell probably draw you something nice as well if it makes you feel better. :)

CROW // GORO AKECHI

oh boy, akechi sure is a character. and i think with him it depends.

usually though hes just a pretty average guy. hes not stupid, but he also isnt the best at understanding your emotions, or his own, for that matter.

youre in public, akechi talking to one of the tv hosts after hes finished appearing on a show, and you gently tug on his jacket to let him know you started your period, and need the restroom. 

hes conflicted, whats supposed to come first, you or his reputation? when it comes to him, he makes any simple situation way more complicated in his head.

he makes an eternal sacrifice to shoo away the people talking to him, and he quickly takes off his jacket to wrap it around your waist. you both find a bathroom nearby and he paitently waits for you outside.

when you walk out, he offers to pick up whatever you may need (including some food) and take you home.

at your front door, he kisses your cheek, but cant help but noticed the nervous expression on your face.

its only then when you mention that akechis jacket is, in fact, a light color, and is most definitely stained now with bright red blood. his face goes blank, and youre worried for a second he might be mad.

he only shrugs at that, same detective prince smile as always, and jokes that youre paying for his dry cleaning.

[xsweetcatastrophe]

You Broke Me First

Part 13

I feel like we, as a society, don't talk about him at the British premiere of Anthropoid enough

Cillian rested his hand on your lower back and guided you towards the car. "Good evening Miss Zoe!" Joseph yelled through the front passenger side window. "Would you like us to drive your friend home as well?"

"Cillian turned around to her, where she sat on the curb on her phone.

"Dana, do you want a ride? Or did you call an uber - do you know uber can't go to Cillian's house??" Zoe said, sitting down in the backseat, leaving the door opened. Cillian made sure Zoe was situated and then made her way towards Dana.

"Hey, you good?" Cillian said, crouching down next to her. He wanted to reach out and put his hand on her shoulder for comfort, but decided against it. He didn't want people seeing and didn't want her to take it the wrong way.

"i'm okay, I'm gonna wait for uber" Dana mumbled.

"Cancel it, we'll drive you home" Cillian said. "How far are you?"

"Up that way" Dana pointed.

"Allow me to assist, Mr. Murphy, I can handle this and get her to the car" Joseph said, appearing at his side.

"Thanks, man" Cillian said, standing up. He watched as Joseph gently helped Dana up and walked her to the front seat of the car. Cillian slid into the backseat with Zoe. "maybe drive slow, Joe..." Cillian said, looking at the state of the girls. He was still so angry, but he knew any conversation with Zoe wouldn't be productive. He just wanted to get them both home safe and taken care of at this point.

Joseph drove to Dana's townhouse, which wasn't far from the bar at all.

Zoe sat in the backseat, part furious and part worried. She was mad that he showed up... even though she DID call him. She was worried because she knew once the two of them were alone, he wasn't going to be happy with her. She felt embarrassed and just wanted to go to bed.

Joseph stepped out of car and assisted Dana out of the car and walked her up the walk.

"Thank you, Joseph" Zoe said, rolling down the windows.

"I rather you guys get home safe, that's my top priority" Joseph said over his shoulder. They made their way up to the front door, and Zoe watched Dana dig through her purse for her key. She found it (Thank God - that's the last thing she would need) and saw her unlock the front door. She stepped inside and turned around and gave a wave to the car at Zoe.

Cillian felt a sigh of relief. He figured if she was coherent enough to unlock a front door, turn around and wave at the car and close the front door again, she could get herself to bed.

One down, one to go.

Joseph walked back to the car and started driving again.

"Joseph, you're the best. you're gonna be the best dad ever" Zoe said, leaning her head against the cold window.

Joseph smiled. "I already am a dad, two twin girls in separate colleges across the country. I worry every day. I just want them to be safe, and would hope someone would help them out if they ever drank this much"

At that moment Zoe knew angels existed and they wore black leather jackets and went by the name of Joseph.

After a grueling 20 minute car ride in silence, the car pulled up to Cillian's house.

"I don't live here" Zoe said, confused.

"Come on," Cillian said, getting out of the car and rounding the back to help her out her side. "Joe, thanks man. I owe you" Cillian yelled into the car.

"Anytime, sir" Joseph yelled back.

"Don't... ah forget it. We'll talk tomorrow. Get some sleep" Cillian said as he closed the car door.

Zoe stood there awkwardly. She did not know this night would end in a sleepover.

Cillian walked past her, making sure to lightly brush pass her as he made his way up the walk.

"What is this, high school?" Zoe said. "You're gonna shoulder bump me?? You gonna meet me on the football field after 3rd period for a throw down?!" Zoe said, stomping after him.

"Shhh!" Cillian said, opening the front door. "Just come inside please. I have nighbors"

Zoe walked in and went straight for the kitchen. "Where's Scout. I want to see Scout."

"Scout's sleeping... lucky him" Cillian said, walking to the cabinet and pulling out a glass. He stopped at the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, and then went to another kitchen cabinet which housed over-the-counter pain meds. He fished for the Ibuprofen, pulling it from the shelf and turning around to face Zoe. "Take two. Drink the entire bottle. Now." Cillian said.

"You know, Cillian, or should I say, 'Mr. Passive Aggressive,' you can't just boss me around like you control me. You're being such an asshole" Zoe said, ignoring the water and placing her had in her hands on the counter.

"Oh, name calling, this is gonna be a fun last couple of months" Cillian said out loud, to no one in particular. He then decided to get right into it. "How much did you tell your friend?"

"Everything" Zoe said, picking her head up ready for a fight. She couldn't see straight, but she was ready.

Cillian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. "Do you know how bad this could be" he replied.

"Probably bad, but whatever. WHATEVER," Zoe repeated, getting loud.

"You don't get it! If your friend or sister blabs, Heather is going to call ME and I'm going to have to fix it. Can you at least pretend to care??" Cillian said, raising his voice as well. He immediately regretted it. He hated raising his voice, it reminded him of the fights with his ex. He hated that it got to this point, but he was frustrated.

Zoe felt her heart start to race. She swore she could feel her blood pressure rising.

"I don't care?" Zoe said, softly. "What did you just say to me?"

Cillian just looked at her. He had a feeling he said something wrong, and wasn't sure how to proceed.

"If you don't think I care, you're dumber than you make yourself out to be. Of course I care. I care too much. I feel like shit BECAUSE I CARE" Zoe said, getting loud again. "I have no idea what I'm doing. It's so much pressure, everyone's talking about me. I can't talk to any of my friends about it, and if I do I have to lie. And you, YOU of all people, I thought I could go through this together with you, at least be friends, a shoulder to lean on or something. But you're so hot and cold. We had a great couple of weeks with dinners and hanging out at my apartment, it was great, then suddenly we kiss at my apartment and now you cold shoulder me!!! The one person who is contractually obligated to spend time with me and make the world think we're dating, doesn't want anything to do with me. Do you have ANY idea how that makes me feel? What mood are you in this evening, Cill? Are you a friend? A stranger? I'd appreciate a heads up." Zoe said, going on a rant.

Cillian looked at his feet. "I know you're mad at me," He said slowly, wanting to make sure he spoke carefully. "I'm mad at me too. I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly. I should of apologized the minute I got home, but I didn't. I can't change that" Cillian said.

"Apologize for what? For kissing me? Just let me know, nothing can hurt me at this point" Zoe said, feeling tears in her eyes.

Cillian looked up to her. "I'll never apologize for kissing you. But I'm sorry I got spooked. And I'm sorry that I left. The second that phone rang my conscience kicked in and was yelling how this was supposed to be fake and end in a couple of months, and how much it would hurt once it ended. Us going our separate ways...I... I don't want to be hurt again like that Zoe" Cillian said sighing.

"Yea well, newsflash...if you have to hurt people to protect yourself, you're an.... an asshole" Zoe said, suddenly not feeling well.

Cillian could sense it. "You good?"

Here it is.

"Where's your bathroom?" Zoe said, starting to feel her body sweat. The room was beginning to sway and her mouth started to water; she knew what would happen next.

"Oh boy, come on" Cillian said, grabbing her hand and walking her down the hall.

Zoe made it just in time, raising the seat and dropping to her knees and throwing up into the toilet. Cill stood next to her, trying his best to ignore the sounds. He was wincing looking at her; she was throwing up so hard her back was arching into an uncomfortable position.

Zoe stopped for a couple seconds, and just from seeing the side of her face he could tell she was beginning to cry. She was nervous, drunk, she knew she was a sloppy mess, in a house that was too expensive for her, with Cillian Murphy. She was breathing heavy, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Shortly after, she felt the same feeling again, and began to throw up again.

Cillian hated seeing her like this. He could tell she was in pain... mentally and physically. He knew he played a part in the mental part, and that made him feel like shit. He knelt down besides her as she continued to puke.

"hey, it's okay" He said, rubbing her back. "Im here."

Zoe stopped finally, leaning against her arm that was resting on top of the toilet. She was exhausted and everything was blurry. She couldn't make out anything, but she could feel a hand on her back and faintly hear Cillian's voice.

"Just breathe... I'm here"

tags: @lau219 @wolfieellsworld @shopgirl6us

[runningfrom2am]

i am a god

summary: after a fatal bar fire leaves the whole city distraught, your best friend can’t help but notice that you couldn’t care less.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

wc: 3.9k

tags/warnings: possession, violence, blood, gore, s/h elements, death, all that fun stuff. also reader is a psycho. semi-platonic jj x reader, SOME jjiara (i couldnt resist- sorry kie girl ily), implications of a non-straight reader, manipulation.

a/n: this is for day one of obx week!! day one: au with jj maybank! if you couldn’t tell by now, i went with a jennifer’s body au. don’t ask why, it honestly just came to me in a raven simone style vision and i honestly hate the final product. but i thought it was so perfect getting into the spooky season :)

i hope you enjoy and i’ll see you again tomorrow for my first ever john b fic!!

disclaimer!! : please be mindful of the warnings on this one! there are references to assault and violence and self-harm so if any of this is disturbing for you please do not read this! come back tomorrow for some fluff :)

masterlists // nav

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join my taglist here

"JJ, it's literally not that deep. Don't be a baby. It'll be fun." You scoff, throwing your bag over your shoulder as you get up off his bed.

"For you, maybe. I don't get why I have to come." JJ sighs, following you down his hallway anyways as you sway your hips in the cocky way you always do.

"Because we're best friends. Duh."

"Okay, sure, but what am I meant to do when you ditch me to go hook up with the lead singer like you're insisting you will?"

"His name is Rafe Cameron, and he's an absolute rocket." You giggle. "You're not gonna join us?" You tease, turning to him and tilting your head.

"No, Y/N. I'd really rather not." JJ pushes your hands away as you reach out to fix his shirt.

"You're so boring, J." You pout, huffing and walking out the door. As usual, JJ follows like a lost puppy.

At school the next day, all anyone can talk about is how the bar you had been in got burnt down. All JJ can think about is that awful dream he had after he saw you off in the bands van, leaving him behind to go have sex with Rafe Cameron. The dream that you'd come back to his house, eaten all his food, and puked this awful black liquid all over his floor before trying to attack him, hesitating, and then running out- he even dreamt that he cleaned it all up. The uneasy feeling in his gut the only tangible evidence of the event.

"JJ, would you believe it if I told you he genuinely believed I was a virgin?" You whisper in the boys ear, coming seemingly out of nowhere and draping your arm over his shoulder in the school hallway.

"Honestly? No, I wouldn't." JJ replies, slamming his locker shut. "He must have been dumber than I imagined."

You giggle, taking a step back from him to lean against the lockers. "Even so, the sex was subpar at best. It was really upsetting. Almost traumatic, even." You sigh dramatically.

"Can't you have the slightest bit of empathy? People died last night, Y/N." JJ whispers, hoping you're not drawing too much attention to them in the quieter than normal hallway.

You roll your eyes. "Loosen up, Jayj. It's literally not that deep."

"It is, actually!" JJ replies, shocked as you start to walk away.

"Love ya! Catch you later." You blow him a kiss and strut off, leaving him to shake his head in embarrassment. You've always been a force to reckon with, and truly no one understood why the two of you were friends, but even this was out of character for you.

Later that day, Topper Thornton had turned up dead in the forest behind your school. You had paid no mind. It had been a month since then, and JJ saw you in person less and less, despite how close you always had been. You called him frequently though, hushed voices crackling over the landline late at night to make up for missed time.

He took the opportunity of you not incessantly calling him to invite over his girlfriend. Kie had always put up with your friendship, but she wasn't your biggest fan- the way you walked all over him never rubbing her the right way. Why would it? Regardless, she was thankful to spend some time with him one on one without you there to ruin her mood.

It's when JJ freezes on top of her, muttering about how something is wrong and he needs to find you, that Kie snapped. Internally, that is. That was the final straw. She would go to the upcoming formal with him, and then they were done. She just couldn't take it anymore. JJ didn't really care that when both of them fled his house to their separate cars, Kie had left in a huff with a slam of her door. He was only really worried about you.

The panic rose in his chest as he got on his bike, revving up the engine and taking off. He didn't know where he was driving, just that he was driving to you. He took a right onto a dead street he hardly ever drove down, scanning the dark street based only on his gut feeling that you were close. What he didn't expect, was seeing you stumble out of the woods, if that even was the word, covered in blood as the red fluid dropped down your chin.

He screams, swerving out of the way as you stop right in his path, almost rolling his bike in an attempt to not hit you. He screeches to a stop at the side of the street, looking around frantically with his chest heaving. You were gone. JJ thinks he's going crazy- did he see what he thought he saw? There's no way, right?

As he shakes his head to knock some sense into himself, he looks forward and sees you standing right in front of him again. "Hi, J." You smile. Did you always have fangs?

JJ screams again, hammering the reverse and flying back on the bike, frantically turning around and speeding off. Whatever that was was not you. That was not his best friend.

In his panic and fear, he made it home and screamed for his father who JJ, for the first time ever, wished was home. Of course he wasn't. He sighs and wipes away his fearful tears, running upstairs to his room and crawled into bed in the dark. He lets out a sigh of relief- finally, he should be able to sleep, hellbent on admitting himself to a psych ward first thing in the morning. He must be losing his mind.

"Hi." He jolts up when he hears you speak, cheery as ever and feels you shift beside him to sit up.

"Oh my god!" He screams, leaping out of bed and smacking the light on.

"God, JJ- enough with the screaming! You're such a pussy." You say, kneeling on his bed in nothing but one of his t-shirts and your underwear.

"Get out!" JJ shouts in response, cutting you off and pointing to the door.

You pout, placing your hands on your lap. "But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties." JJ takes in your appearance. You were clean, head to toe; not a hair out of place or a drop of blood to be seen.

He doesn't say anything, breathing heavily as he stares at you in partial relief. He may be crazy, but at least you're not trying to kill him. You sit up on your knees and move to the edge of his bed, reaching out to him with a small smile on your face. "I'm not gonna bite you..." You smile, placing your hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing them.

"I'm afraid you might." JJ mutters, uncertain as he feels you play with the hair at the back of his neck.

Your smile grows slightly and you pull your lower lip between your teeth. "Only if you want me to." You shrug, suddenly leaning in. Closer, closer, until your lips are almost touching.

JJ is horrified, frozen as you brush your thumb over his bottom lip before ever so gently pushing your lips together. He can't even bring himself to close his eyes while you kiss him, but something draws him into the temptation to kiss you back. Eventually, as you lay back on the bed, he lays over you and kisses you again, in some sort of trance as you hook your leg up over his hip.

"Wait- what the fuck is happening?" He quickly pushes himself off of you and sits up.

"My god, J bug, what's gotten into you?" You chuckle, sitting up again and tilting your head at him in a way he's all too familiar with.

"I saw you! I saw- I saw you in the street covered in blood and now you're just here like nothing happened and we're kissing and I have a girlfriend and you know that and I-" JJ rambles on in a panic, trying desperately to figure out what is going on with him.

"Blah, blah, blah-" You cut him off. "Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped."

"I'm gonna call the police." JJ nods, settling on what he has to do, even if he doesn't know how they'll help.

"Uh, okay, why don't you narc me out? I have the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember?" You say smugly, crossing your legs and leaning back.

"What do you want from me?" JJ sighs. He knows you're right, and he's crazy anyways- so what would calling the cops even do?

"I just want to explain some things to you." You admit. "Besides, best friends don't keep secrets. Right?"

JJ just nods, waiting for you to continue.

"'Kay, so remember the night of the fire? I got really messed up. And those guys from Low Shoulder, Rafe's band, are like totally evil. They're basically like agents of Satan with really awesome haircuts." You explain the whole ideal- how you insisted you were a virgin and they should find someone with more experience if their plan was assault. True fear like none other completely enveloped you, up until you passed out from blood loss and pain from their masochistic ritual- all in an attempt to get famous. From the second you left JJ's side at the burning dive bar you knew something wasn't right. Fear was the last emotion you felt, but you left that, and the fact that you were screaming for him in what should have been your final moments, out of the story.

"They killed you..." JJ mutters, a tear dropping quickly from his eye and staining his shirt.

"Well I'm still here, aren't I?" You scoff, seemingly unfazed now by the horrific events. "I mean, they did go all Benihana on my ass with that knife and it should have killed me, but for some reason it didn't."

JJ shifts uncomfortably. "Maybe it did."

"Anyway," You quickly brush off his comment, avoiding his eyes as you pick at your nails. "I don't really remember what happened after that. I just know that I woke up and I found my way back to you."

"I remember." JJ nods. He wasn't dreaming- it was real. It was all real, and he curses himself for not checking his trash to see if he really had cleaned up your mess that night.

"I couldn't bring myself to hurt you." You smile softly at him, leaning now on your elbow. "I mean, I'm a really good friend, but I was just so hungry. And ever since then, I just knew what I had to do to be strong."

JJ goes to speak, trying to understand but he has so many questions, when you just continue anyways. "And when I'm full, like I am right now, I'm like, unkillable." You say, a smug tone to your voice. "Like, I can do shit like this. Watch."

You grab a pen from beside the bed, and before JJ can even get a word out you're plunging the tip into your forearm and dragging it down towards your wrist. His eyes widen in horror, reaching out for you as you remove the metal from your arm. "It's really cool! Just watch, look." You stop him, the lighthearted tone of your voice settling him only slightly as he watches the blood drip down your skin. Within moments, all of the blood retreats the way it came, back into your body as the deep cut seals back up.

You smile and make a sucking noise, mimicking the one your skin made as the cut completely disappeared. "It's like some X-Men shit, right?"

JJ watches in awe and confusion, staring at the place on your arm where your skin should still be broken. "What do you mean, 'when you're full'?" He asks after a moment, eyes returning to yours again. "Why were you covered in blood?"

Your smile fades quickly as you look back at him, unsure how to explain. Or if you want to.

"You didn't even look human." JJ adds, genuine fear and worry behind his eyes.

"You know, J-Bug, maybe you should talk to somebody about these disturbing thoughts that you're having..." You shake your head at him as you speak. "We're all really concerned. Especially Kie."

JJ shakes his head and stands up. He didn't expect you to gaslight him, especially when you just showed him to his face that you're invincible now, and now that he knows what really happened to you the night of the fire. "I think she may be having second thoughts about you." You continue, and he's fed up. He points to the door dejectedly.

"Leave." He tells you firmly.

"Come on, JJ, let me stay the night." You plead. "We can play boyfriend-girlfriend like we used to." It sounds like you're offering it to him, like it should be something tempting, but it isn't to him. Or at least he thinks it shouldn't be- but in reality he would love nothing more than to let you stay.

He sighs, looking away from you. He knows he wouldn't be able to say no. You nod almost sadly to yourself and get up, pulling your pyjama pants on before climbing up to the window.

"What are you doing?" He asks as he turns, seeing you go to the window instead of the door as you climb up onto the ledge.

"Uhm, you said to leave. See you at school." You reply snarkily, and before he says anything else, you're gone.

After attending another funeral for a boy JJ hardly knew and then one for a girl he also hardly knew, with new information knowing that his best friend was the one doing this, he couldn't just sit on it. He had to do something, he had to figure out what was wrong with you. He started with something he never did; reading.

He concluded after weeks of reading, that you're possessed. More specifically, by a succubus; and he's going to have to kill you. A blade to the heart when you're at your weakest. Even though he hasn't spoken to you since you left his room that night, he doesn't know if he can do it. But he certainly can't sit and watch while you kill every boy or girl in your school and eat them for brunch.

His breakup with Kie was hard- but she didn't believe him. He could see it in her eyes when he tried to explain that she thought he was crazy- that he needed help. To Kie, of course he would ditch their plans to go to the dance together just to "watch" you. She should have known that he was always going to choose you.

As she walks to the spring formal all alone, her lavender dress swaying in the breeze, she's startled by the sound of a bird flapping its wings not far away. When she turns back around, she's faced with you. "Kie, didn't you hear me calling your name?" You ask, ignoring how startled she already seems.

"You weren't." Kie looks you over. Under your makeup your eyes are sunken, you look tired and thin- despite any attempts made to cover it up.

"Yes I was." You insist.

"I-I couldn't hear it." She stutters, uneasy with the interaction already.

"Listen, I need to talk to you about you-know-who." You say, wringing your hands in front of you as if you're nervous. "Our little J-Bug."

Kie nods a little. While she's never been your biggest fan, it seems that you do have his best interest at heart. You're worried about him too. You grab her hand and lead her off towards the old pool building so you can talk somewhere more private.

"He's been... acting a little off." Kie says as you head up towards a wooded area.

You sigh, stopping and turning to face her. "Look, I think I know what's wrong with him."

"What? What is it?"

"You know how JJ has been really upset since Sophie Mally died?" You say, dropping her hand. Kie nods, looking confused. "Well, it's not just because she was like, brutally murdered and stuff." You hesitate, bringing a hand up to your head. "I don't want to say this, I-"

"Just say it." Kie insists, already battling with what she knew you were about to say.

"JJ and Sophie were intimate." You say, suddenly showing no hesitation. "And by that, I mean they were porking on a semi-regular basis." Any empathy in your tone and face was long gone, Kie could see that, but it looked like you were trying.

She just shakes her head a little, avoiding looking at you. It's not entirely beyond the realm of possibility that he was cheating, and hearing someone you're close with get murdered could cause a mental break like the one he was clearly having. She just expected that if he was ever to cheat, that it would have been with you. She didn't want to believe it, though.

"Trust me, they were doing things you've never even heard of. Total varsity moves." You add when she doesn't reply.

"Okay, Y/N! I get it!" She snaps, surprisingly making you smile.

"I just, you know- I can't believe he would mess with you like that. I told him it was wrong, that he shouldn't do that to you but I was totally caught in the middle. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner... I was just scared, I guess." You explain, smile faltering towards the end. "I didn't want to hurt him, but I see now how it could hurt you more. I didn't want anyone to get hurt. Truly. I care about you both so deeply."

Kie chews on her lip as she listens. If you were in her shoes, it would be really hard. She understands why you wouldn't tell her, even if she needed to know.

"I care about you so much, Kie." You add, grasping her hand again. "More than I have ever had the guts to admit."

You step closer, running your hand up her arm now. "JJ didn't deserve a girl like you."

As JJ stands inside the gym, basking in the sickening irony of Low Shoulder agreeing to play at their formal, he faces the nerves that he hasn't seen you yet. Thankfully, he also hasn't seen Kie, who he begged not to come. She was stubborn, like you, so he expected his ex to show up anyways just to spite him.

As he lifts the plastic cup of punch up to his lips, he gets a shiver that reverberates through all his bones like he just jumped in a frozen lake. Kie. Your voice echoes in his mind, and suddenly it's no wonder he hadn't seen either of you there.

He rushes out of the building following only his gut instinct- like when he got on his bike all those weeks ago. His intuition will take him to you.

By the time he runs away from the school, through the forested area and up to the pool house, he can hear Kie screaming for help. He rushes in through a window, stumbling over the overgrown vines and his eyes land on you and Kie in the dirty pool. "Kie!" He shouts, making only brief eye contact with her before you turn from where you had your back to him. Your jaw looked almost unhinged- and there were those fangs again, this time covered in the blood of his ex girlfriend while the colour drains from her skin.

He dives in without another thought, attempting to pull you off of her, shoving you away as quickly as he can. Under the water you see the two of them- JJ between Kie and you. You can't hurt him. You just can't.  They scramble to get out of the water and you find yourself levitating out instead- it's more graceful, that way. Kie should be embarrassed, you think- suppressing the urge to laugh at her as they struggle.

"She can fly?" Kie coughs out, blood pouring from the puncture wounds in her neck now.

"I guess!" JJ replies, just as your feet land on the ground. "Y/N- this is insane! You can't keep killing people!"

"God, you just don't get it." You scoff, crossing your arms.

"No, I do. I do, I know what's going on with you." He insists, still standing between you and Kie.

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at him. "God, J-Bug, don't you care about me at all? If you know everything about me like you say you do, you should know I have to do this."

"You don't! If you were the Y/N I knew you would have killed yourself to avoid this." JJ says, and the air gets thick. "You were never a good friend to me! When we were little you broke my toys, poured juice in my shoes, not to mention all the weed you never paid me a dime for, but you would never do this."

"And now I'm eating your girlfriend." You scowl. "See? At least I'm consistent."

"Why do you need her?" He asks, dirty water dripping from his hair and down his face and neck. "You could have anybody that you want, Y/N. So... why Kie?"

"Ugh, god. Boys are so dumb sometimes." You chuckle to yourself. "You know why."

JJ's chest is heaving as he takes in your appearance. You look nothing like you used to.

"You're actually gonna make me say it?" You laugh, Kie jumping a little where she's sitting on the ground behind him, startled by the loud noise. "Because you're my boyfriend. I have loved you for years in a way no one else ever has. A way no one else ever will."

"Do you mean that?" JJ mutters.

"JJ!" Kie gasps, shocked that he would even consider believing this crap.

"Every word, babe." You smile softly, nodding as you step closer to him.

"JJ, come on! You can't be buying this!" Kie cries out.

"I mean it, I swear." You say again, attempting to drown her out as you place a hand on his cheek. He flinches only slightly before leaning into your touch. "I pinky promise."

For the first time in months, you were being real- you had the energy to be yourself, despite the fact that you were starving. You couldn't live a life like this without him, and you wouldn't leave him behind.

"Come with me." You whisper, leaning closer. "We can be perfect together, J."

He glanced briefly down at Kie, who no longer has the energy to protest.

"Don't you love me?" You ask, jutting your lip out in a familiar pout and you tilt your head.

"I.. I do, yeah." He nods, his voice barely above a whisper.

"This will only be a pinch, J-Bug." You smirk, kissing him briefly, softly, before moving quickly down to his shoulder and biting down on his soft skin. He cries out until you pull away, a small smile forming on your blood stained lips.

You've never looked more beautiful to him.

taglist: @outerbankszn, @wh0reforbucknasty, @enamoredofbella, @maybankspov, @always-reading, @casualsludgeshoetoad, @sagcas-latte, @taurusvic, @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury, @peachprairie, @dilvcv, @justtrying2getby, @maybaenk, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @ragingsammie, @ietss @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @lovelyxtommy

[attic-club-sandwich]

Summary: MC wakes one night to a familiar problem. Someone else is also awake at that hour and he comes to comfort them. A short drabble about MC getting their period for the first time since regaining their human form in the Devildom

Beelzebub x afab!MC

CW: MC has a vagina and menstruates. Period content. Blood Mentions.

A/N: Everyone's favorite glutton, Beelzebub is up next! I love him with my entire being. Maybe i'm biased, but this one turned out so cute. I hope you all enjoy as well! By the way, the fact about the dark chocolate is true. It's rich in magnesium so it helps to ease aches and relax the muscles! Next will be Belphie, and i can hardly wait to write our sleepy cow boy.

Masterlist

Only Human

The light of your D.D.D faintly lit up your bedroom as you played one of the new app games that Levi had begged you to download. You were trying to distract yourself from the cramping in your abdomen that had been keeping you up for most of the night. You sighed as you glanced at the time in the upper corner of the screen. It read 1:45am. Groaning, you shoved your blankets aside and crawled out of bed to head towards your bathroom.

You had been putting it off all night because you knew that you had no pain relief available to take or even the hygiene products you were in desperate need of. However, staring into the empty cabinets would make the thought you had been dreading a reality. You wobbled into the bathroom, and yanked open the cabinet door above the sink. Just as you expected, it was completely barren. Shit. Of course, this was to be expected from the 7 male demons that you resided with as they weren’t quite used to a human living with them. The time you spent as a sheep early on in your stay had thrown them all off guard and even yourself had forgotten about a few specific things when you returned to your human form.

You ran your fingers through your hair, as you tried to think of what to do next. Should I wake someone? No. That would be rude. It’s not like I'm dying. You thought, stubbornly as a wave of cramps hit you. Okay I take that back. Maybe I am dying. Slowly, you made your way back into your bedroom and pulled on a pair of pajama pants. You sat down on the edge of your bed, arms clutching your lower stomach. Suddenly, you had an idea. You had read that chocolate, specifically dark chocolate, serves as a natural pain relief when it comes to cramps. You perked up as you remembered that Beel had brought you home a chocolate dessert from Madam Scream’s earlier that day. You weren’t sure if it was dark chocolate, but it was worth a shot. Jumping up, you grabbed your D.D.D and headed for the kitchen. 

You walked quietly through the hallway, clutching your phone to your chest. The last thing you wanted was to wake everyone up and be alerted of your situation. After what felt like an eternity of walking, you reached the kitchen and pushed open the heavy swinging doors. They squeaked loudly as they opened, and you winced. You paused for a moment, listening carefully for any stirring in the house. After a few moments of silence, you decided the coast was clear and continued on into the kitchen to head for the fridge. You opened the fridge door, and began to scan the shelves inside for the box of dessert that Beel had bought for you. Surely he didn’t eat it, did he? He’d feel so bad for eating a dessert that he bought for me… You were too concentrated on locating the dessert that you didn’t hear your D.D.D go off from over on the kitchen counter. You finally found the box, and carried it over to the counter when you noticed your D.D.D lighting up. 

I heard something in the kitchen just now. Was that you?

Are you getting a midnight snack? 

……

Can I join you?

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the message from Beel himself. He must have heard the doors, you thought. Being a demon, his hearing is a lot more sensitive compared to a human’s. You were in the middle of typing out your response when you heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. Spinning around so your back was leaning against the counter, you met Beel’s gaze as he appeared through the doors. His orange hair was messy, and he wore a pair of maroon sweatpants and a black tank top which showed off his muscular arms. “Ah, so it was you.” he said, smiling. You offered him a weak smile back, unable to help yourself from staring. “Caught red handed, I guess.” you said, peeling your stare away from him and glancing at the dessert box on the counter. Beel chuckled, making his way over to you. “I’m the last person to judge you for midnight snacking, it’s okay MC.” You were about to respond when another intense wave of cramps took over, and you found yourself sliding down the side of the kitchen counter and onto the floor. “M-MC! Are you okay?” Beel said, rushing to your side. As he got closer, he noticed the strong scent of blood coming from your direction. “Y-You smell like blood…are you hurt?? I’m confused…” Your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on your breathing. What?! He can smell blood?! You covered your now burning face with your hands. “I-I’m fine…it’s really no big deal…” you mumbled, trying to conceal your internal panicking. Beel’s purple eyes darkened with concern. “You don’t have to lie to me, MC.” You opened your eyes again, slowly meeting his gaze. “Okay fine, I um…I got my period…and I read that chocolate helps with the cramps…so I came down to eat the dessert you had gotten me…” The 6th born’s eyes widened as he processed what you had said. “Oh, I see.” he glanced down at his feet as he rubbed the back of his head. “I only know of what Belphie has told me about humans, and this is something he’s mentioned before. Is there any way I can help?” You smiled softly. You could tell how much he was concerned about you. “Well… if you want to help me eat this dessert…?” you offered. Beel glanced back up at you, surprised. “What? Are you sure?” he asked. You nodded, “Of course, I want to share it with you.” Beel’s mouth turned up into the biggest smile you’ve seen yet as he helped you up to your feet. “Thank you, MC. I’ll get some plates and forks.” 

The two of you sat across from each other as you shared the delicious, chocolatey dessert. Beel held out his own fork, offering you the first bite. You took it, and practically moaned as you tasted the richness of the chocolate as it melted on your tongue. Beel chuckled, his face turning a light shade of pink. “I’m glad you are enjoying it.” You both sat in silence for a few moments as you continued to enjoy the pastry together. “Is there anything else you need, MC?” Beel asked, breaking the silence. As you finished up the last bite of cake, you glanced down at your lap. “I’m not sure if any of you would have any, but I really need some pads or tampons…and some painkillers.” Beel hummed as he thought for a moment. “I don’t think so, but I can go get you anything you need. Places are open all night here in the Devildom.” You smiled, nodding graciously. “Yes, please. Thank you Beel.” Beel stood up and placed their plates and forks into the sink. “Of course, just tell me what you need.” You notice your cramps have settled slightly, and you finally began to yawn. Beel glanced at you as he washed up the dishes. “Are you tired now?” he asked. You nodded, resting your chin on your hand. Beel finished up washing the dishes, and made his way over to your side. You felt strong arms wrap around you and all of a sudden you were being carried bridal style through the kitchen. “B-Beel!” you squeaked. “Shh, it’s okay. Let’s get you back to bed.” You accepted your fate and began to relax in his arms. The gentle swaying from him carrying you down the hall was almost enough to lull you right to sleep. You expected him to stop at your room, but was surprised when he continued down the hallway to head in the direction of his bedroom. “Uh, Beel. My room is back there.” You said, quietly. He squeezed you tighter to his chest. “I know, but Belphie is in the attic tonight and my bed is bigger and comfier.” You giggled, not expecting to be kidnapped by The Avatar of Gluttony tonight. As he entered his bedroom, he walked over and gently placed you down onto his bed and pulled his covers up to tuck you in. You instantly relaxed as you breathed in his scent from the blankets. He hesitated before placing a light kiss to your forehead. “You stay here, okay? I’m going to run into town for your things.” He said, softly. Your head was spinning from the kiss, but you nodded your head. “T-Thank you Beel…” You murmured, nestling into the covers. “I’ll be right back. Then we can cuddle all night long.”

[the1975attheirverybest]

Can I ask for a blurb when reader and Matty haven't had sex in a while because they have been busy and she has been stressed. Maybe he has tried to initiate it a couple of times but as soon as he gets that she's not into he dropped of course. So she realise it has been a while and she apologises and feels guilty but he's super nice about it.

Sorry once again trying to heal my trauma through fiction. 😅

Hope your having a nice day💕

Of course, babes! Sorry about the delay. Looks like my writing is going through another shitty phase. I hope this helps in some small way. Remember that if anyone treats you with anything less than complete respect, then they don’t deserve you or your trust. Love you. 🥰

—

Monday.

It was already a busy week for both of them. Matty had spent most of the weekend in the studio, alone, with George, working out the production on a song they’d written and revised a thousand times. He’d come home really late Sunday night and found her asleep already, sliding into bed next to her as quietly as possible and going to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. So, when she woke up this morning, well before his alarm went off, she decided not to wake him, simply giving him a quick kiss on the forehead and dashing out the door to get an early start to the work week.

She waited around for him that night. Or tried to, at least. She’d cooked them a quick dinner, and set out a plate for him, but he never came. When she texted him, he replied, 39 minutes later, sorry, babe. Another late night. Enjoy dinner though. See you at home?

She wanted to see him. She missed him. So, she tried to stay up late, watching tv , snuggled up on the couch and counting down the minutes until she could hear his car pull into the driveway. But, she’d had a long day herself. Work had gotten wiped her out. Making dinner and taking a quick shower was just about all she was capable of after that. So, she ended up falling asleep right there on that couch. Well before Matty got home.

She had a vague memory of Matty carrying her up the stairs and into their bedroom, tucking her in, and giving her a kiss that tasted like toothpaste and smelled like cigarettes. So, he must have been getting ready for bed too, but she doesn’t recall seeing him change out of his clothes, or get into bed. She was out like a light.

Tuesday.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Matty grinned down at her as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“H-how long have you been standing there…watching me sleep?”

Matty laughed and shook his head. “Please, I’m not that creepy. I was just setting down your breakfast on the night stand. Did I wake you?”

She propped up her pillow and sat up, looking to her side, where Matty had, indeed, left a cup of coffee and a pastry. “Oh, thank you, baby. When did you-“

“Woke up early to grab them. Wanted to spend some time with you before we both went off to work. Feel like we’ve hardly seen each other since….Friday?”

She nodded, taking a sip of her drink, and letting the comforting taste of her coffee order wake her up gently. “You’re an angel, you know that?” She reached out her hands, pulling Matty back into bed to kiss him.

“Don’t think angels would do what I wanna do to you right now…” he mumbled against her lips as she kissed him.

“Oh, babe, not that I wouldn’t love to, but- I have to get ready for work soon, and- I just, I don’t think it’d be fun to rush through it-“

“Oh, of course. Yeah.” She felt his hold on her loosen immediately as he pulled away.

“Sorry! Please don’t be mad! It’s not that I don’t want to- it’s just that work has been crazy, I’ve actually been going into the office early to catch up on stuff and I don’t think the mood-“

“Hey,” he cupped her face with a gentle touch. “Listen to me, it’s okay! You don’t have to explain yourself. Alright? I understand.” He smiled at her reassuringly as she studied his face for any signs of secret resentment.

“A-are you sure?”

“Course I am, babe. Just take your breakfast with you. You can pass on this body” he pointed jokingly to his torso, “Won’t have you skipping meals for work, though…”

“You’re the best.” She gave him a quick peck before springing out of bed and into the bathroom.

Wednesday.

“Matty? Honey? You home?” She called out from the entryway, frowning at the noise in the kitchen, as she hung up her keys and kicked off her shoes. She hadn’t expected him to be home before her tonight. So, she was a bit thrown off.

“Hello, my love!” He chirped, a carefree smile on his tired, sleep-deprived face. He gave her a greeting kiss. “How was you’re day?”

She let him help her take off her coat as she gave him the highlights, “what’re you doing home so early?”

“Finally finished that song that’s been bothering us for weeks. Thought I’d call it an early night and come make us dinner.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s great news!”

“You wanna hear it? I’ve got it on my phone, actually!”

She loved being his private audience. He always played her incomplete songs and ideas for melodies whenever he had them and he respected her opinion immensely. She was always humbled and flattered by the way his eyes would watch her carefully to gauge her reaction to any new music and she loved that he actively sought out her input and took her feedback seriously.

Much of their dinner conversation was, naturally, devoted to that song and what he might do with it. They discussed their favorite parts of it, Matty told her about how he came to write it, what George had done with it, and why it took so long to “get just right.” The conversation carried on, and strayed in several different directions as they cleaned up the kitchen and settled into the living room, with her in his lap, flipping through several streaming services for something to watch before bed.

“Or, we could just-“ Matty dipped his head down to kiss her, his hands traveling to her waist. She’d missed him. His touch. His scent. The feeling of his soft lips on hers. She really wanted this. She did. But, she didn’t want it to go any further. And, it was clear by how eagerly Matty had re-positioned himself on the couch to be on top of her, that he did want to go further.

She closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply, but the anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t let her. It’s fine. This is fine. She loved Matty. And sex was fun. And they hadn’t done it in a while. So, this’d probably be good. She’s not entirely into it now, but should get herself there. Eventually. If she kept going, right? All couples compromise at some point. So, what if she wasn’t feeling it. Worst case scenario, she’d just wait for him to finish. It’ll be fine.

“Everythin’ alright, darlin’?” Matty’s voice interrupted the small whispers inside her own mind.

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

Matty gradually withdrew, sitting up straight and getting off of her to give her some space. “I was just asking if you’re okay. What’s the matter, love?”

“Oh! Nothing’s the matter. I’m fine. Why?”

“Well….you seem…distracted. Pretty sure I felt you tense up a bit. Just makin’ sure you’re okay….”

She hadn’t realized that she’d clutched onto the couch reflexively when Matty’s arms began to run over her body. He was right. She was feeling stiff.

“I- umm, yeah, I’m fine. I just- well-“ the small flutter of anxiety that that had been moving through her now settled into real panic. She had no idea what to say that wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

“Hey, what’s wrong, baby? Did I- god, have I hurt you?” Matty looked at her, concern in his eyes, he was absolutely clueless.

“No, no! Not at all- it’s not - you’ve done nothing! I promise. It’s not you-“

“Well, what is it then? You can tell me…did you- do you not want this right now?”

Her throat ran dry at his words, she felt tongue tied. Too overwhelmed to speak. Matty watched her, expecting a response. Eventually, she shook her head.

“Oh, I see. That’s okay! Why didn’t you say anything?”

They way she looked up at him with surprised and confusion utterly baffled him. Like it hadn’t even occurred to her that it was an option to simply let him know.

“Well, you know, we…umm- haven’t slept together in a while, and…yesterday, I did. When you tried, I said no, cuz I had to go to work, and stuff…so, I just figured-“

“You figured what? You’d let me have it even if you’re not into it?” Matty smiled in disbelief, shaking his head.

“Sounds silly when you put it like that.” She looked down at her feet, feeling dejected and foolish.

Matty jumped from his side of the couch over to her, pulling her into a hug, immediately. “Listen to me, and listen carefully, you are NOT obligated to give me sex. Like ever. I don’t care how long it’s been, I don’t care how many times you’ve had to say now, I don’t care if we’re right in the middle of things, and I’m standing there, lookin at you with my fuckin dick out. If, at any point, you suddenly decide, you’re not feeling it, you just say the word and we’ll stop.”

She shook her head, “but that sounds so selfish!”

“Not as selfish as me ignoring all your cues. Letting you put yourself through something so personal when you’re not enjoying it just so I can cum for the night. Does that seem fair to you? Would that be right?”

Something about the way he’d described it matter-of-factly made the decision seem like a no-brainer. But, in the moment, it didn’t feel that way at all. “Nope.”

“I never want to take advantage of you. I never want to taint our relationship. You don’t owe me anything. Just because you’ve agreed to be in this relationship with me, it doesn’t give me the right to just expect sex from you. Any time it happens between us, we both have to be into it. Meaning, every. Single. Time. We have to make it an active choice. Yeah? Besides, it’s not nearly as sexy or enjoyable for me, if you’re not into it! Do you see what I mean?”

“…yeah, I do. Thank-“

“Fuck no. Not havin’ you thank me for being, like, a normal human being. That’s the bare fuckin minimum. If anyone’s ever made you feel like that’s something you have to be grateful for, then they’re the twat, not you. And if I haven’t made that clear enough until today, then that’s a failure on my part. I’m going to fix it. Starting….well, now! May I kiss you?”

“Yes, Matty. You may.”

[melanie-ohara]

See How Deep the Bullet Lies - Chapter 2

Whumpuary2024, Day 26 - Prompt: "I'm Fine"

Shepard says she's fine. Liara believes she could be, eventually

AO3 Here

Shepard sat on the couch and watched the clouds of stars drift by out of the observation window. Thessia was far behind now, not even visible as a black dot against the sun without a scope. Joker had dropped them out of FTL for a silent-running approach to the system's relay so they could slink away with their tail between their legs. Shepard wondered why the Reapers didn't have better active scanners - even with their heat sinks active, there must be a way for a race as advanced as the machines to locate them against the background of space. Maybe they just didn't think the Normandy was worth it. 

Behind her the door opened, and Shepard couldn't help but tense. 

"I thought I locked that," she said. 

"You did." It was Liara. "EDI told me where you were."

"I was hoping to be left alone," Shepard said, trying not to sound annoyed and failing. 

"You have a cabin for that," she replied. 

Shepard could have locked herself in her room, it was true. Liara knew the door code, but it would have been easy enough to change it for a few hours. But she needed to be down there, on the crew deck, where she could still hear people going about their duties around her. A reminder that life went on.

"Okay," Shepard said, blowing out a breath and getting to her feet so she could face Liara. "What's up?"

Her eyes were still red from crying and she hadn't fixed her running eyeliner yet, but she shook her head. "Not me, Shepard," Liara said. "I'm worried about you."

"Liara, you just lost your planet ."

She shrugged. "You first."

Shepard looked away. If Liara felt guilty for collapsing into her bed and sobbing for her lost world when Earth was occupied too, she'd never forgive herself. It didn't matter that it felt like every Reaper on her planet was standing on her chest, she still couldn't resent Liara for her own grief. 

"EDI said your metabolics - "

"More stress than the Skyllian Blitz," Shepard interrupted, "I know. Joker…" she stopped. She regretted their argument almost as much as she regretted not putting a bullet in that smug assassin's head, but he'd shut her out of the cockpit for now. It was technically against every rule in the book, but she let it slide because she deserved it. "He mentioned it. And if EDI has concerns about my health," she said, raising her voice and glaring around the room for the invisible sensors the AI used, "she can talk to me herself."

Now that she had a body, it was a little strange to hear her voice through the speakers. "I believed it would be more productive if an organic member of the crew attempted the conversation," she said. Shepard was getting better at reading the subtle emotions in her clipped tone, but she refused to recognise the care in it now. "Especially one with whom you share an emotionally significant bond."

Liara blushed, and Shepard jabbed a finger at what she hoped was a camera. "EDI, I'm fine." She moved her finger. "Liara, I am fine . Please will you both just leave me alone for an hour?"

Liara shook her head sadly. "Shepard, you're not fine," she said. "You haven't been for a long time."

Shepard rolled her eyes and took a few steps towards her. "Yes, I really am," she said, and reached out to grip Liara gently by the shoulders. "It's just a little stress, that's all."

"The last time you were even nearly this stressed you got shot in the head," Liara pointed out, reaching a hand up to cup her face. Shepard felt her tracing the path of the scar carved into her skin. "And we haven't even talked about this scar," she whispered.

Shepard broke away as fast as she could without scaring Liara and stomped over the window. She could see Liara in the reflection, her skin freckled with stars. "What about it?" she said, coldly. 

Liara quickly wiped her eyes with the pad of her thumb, thinking Shepard couldn't see. "When you came to Illium, it was gone. And then you came to see me on your way back to Earth, and it was back. I checked it against old images, Shepard, I know it's not the same scar."

Shepard shrugged. "I had it put back." 

Liara came up behind her, but didn't reach out yet. "If it was done surgically, it would match exactly."

"Thane - " Shepard started, and then stopped when a lump rose into her throat. She coughed to clear it and shuffled her weight, and then froze when the back of Liara's hand brushed against her own.

"You had him recreate the scar, I know," Liara said softly. "A person who's fine wouldn't have someone cut their face open, Shepard. Even if by someone they love."

Shepard opened her mouth - not exactly to protest, but to justify herself: the two years they spent apart had changed Liara until she was almost unrecognisable, Shepard had been scared and hurting and desperate for a kind of affection Liara had closed herself off from, and - 

"Don't," Liara told her, her fingers clinging to the edge of Shepard's palm. "Don't diminish what he meant to you. You loved Thane, and if things had been different, I might have loved him with you," she said. "You know that." 

Shepard sighed. "I know." It would be easier if she hadn't. His death wouldn't hurt so much, and her recreated scars would mean a little bit less. "I'm fine. At least, enough to fight this war."

"Is that all that matters?" Liara asked. She was looking at her through the reflection in the observation window, her eyes wide and wet and so blue Shepard thought they looked like twin supernovas in the distance. 

She looked into those supernova eyes until she had to blink. "What else is there?"

Liara curled her arm around Shepard's and pressed against her side. Shepard stood fast against the weight of her, feeling that unless she remained a bulwark she might just fall apart. 

"There's us," Liara offered after a moment. 

Shepard tilted her head. "There's no us if we don't fight."

"I'm not saying we roll over for the Reapers," Liara said. "Just that there's more to life than this war."

"I know," Shepard said. "There is. But - "

"Hush," Liara breathed. "Just be with me, for a moment."

Shepard waited for the tingle at the edges of her consciousness, but Liara didn't try to initiate a meld. It was for the best, she thought, what was in her mind at the moment wasn't something she wanted the woman she loved to see. She wondered if something similar was happening in Liara's head too. The things Shepard had thought about as the Normandy rabbitted to Earth weren't worth ever contemplating again, and she couldn't imagine Liara's thoughts were as peaceful as she was trying to be.��

They were trapped in an unending nightmare, and Shepard had been fighting non-stop for six years. But the view out of the window was endless calm, and Liara was beautiful and loved her. The moment they were sharing was an island, and Shepard wanted to take refuge from the stormy sea there. She wasn't fine, but she could be okay for now. 

With a sigh, she laid her head against Liara's crest and relaxed into her body. 

[kjmsupremacist]

poison sweet off the vine (chan/felix)

Chan, a poor student hoping to make a little extra money while he pursues a masters in music production, lands a gig as a super rich family’s pool boy. He thinks it’s pretty sweet at first. He’ll get to stay in a fancy house and eat fancy leftovers and all he has to do is clean their pool and help out around the house. And then he meets Felix, the bratty, sharp-tongued, skirt-wearing son of his employers. He knows he could get fired for just looking at Felix the wrong way, but Felix, even with his stormy, unpredictable moods and ignorant selfishness, is alluring and beautiful.

Part 2  | prev next  mlist

Characters: Chan, Felix, other members of skz throughout

Genre: smut, eventual romance, angst, I cannot overstate how much of this is sex

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: alcohol, family dysfunction, mentions of homophobia, slut-shaming (both the fun kind and the not fun kind), feminization

Rating: Explicit

Length: 14.3k

Felix has got some shit going on in this one. It’s not, like, super serious and we don’t really get into addiction territory, but I will say it might be triggering for some people, so please just proceed with caution.

Chan wakes to his phone ringing. 

He grunts sleepily, turning over in bed and getting twisted in his sheets. He manages to wrestle an arm free and slaps around for his phone, nearly knocking it into the abyss that is the floor in the process. At last, he grips it and brings it in front of his face. 

It’s horrendously bright and stings his poor, sleepy eyes, but he makes out the caller ID—Lee Minho. 

“Hello?” he croaks, accepting the call. 

“Oh good, I’m still in your favorites,” Minho says in lieu of a greeting. “And good, you’re still not dead.”

“What fucking time is it?” Chan groans.

“About five a.m. for you, so four for me,” Minho answers promptly. “You haven’t texted for three days! I was kind of worried those rich fuckers murdered you and are slow-roasting your body for Christmas dinner.”

“Why the fuck are you up at four a.m.?” Chan asks, choosing to ignore the comment about cannibalism. 

“Calling you,” Minho says. “Look, I figured during the day you’d keep your phone on silent, and wouldn’t pick up no matter what. But at night, you probably have your ringer on for your alarm, and though it might be on DND, as long as I’m still one of your favorites, my call will come through on the second try.”

“I’m taking you off my favorites,” Chan says, though he makes no move to do so. 

“So why haven’t you texted?”

Chan pauses for a second, running the past couple days over in his head. He and Felix have been fucking every chance they can get—after dinner in Felix’s room, in the sauna by the pool, even once in the garden, Felix pressed up against a very expensive statue. 

There’s a soft knock at the door. Chan shuffles to get it while he replies to Minho. “Oh, god, I’m sorry. This job is just—super active, you know, I’m exhausted every day.”

He cracks his door open and sees Felix in a robe standing expectantly outside. Chan gives him a sort of surprised and confused look, pointing at the phone, but gestures for him to come in, opening the door wider so he can slip through. 

“Okay, well, your best friend worries,” Minho is saying, “and so does your best friend’s boyfriend, so maybe text us at least once a day.”

“Oh, I see,” Chan says, dropping back down onto the bed with his legs dangling off the side and patting the mattress for Felix to join him. “You just called me because Jisung is worried, and you love him. Not ‘cause you’re actually concerned about me.”

“I am concerned about you,” Minho says. Felix doesn’t sit on the bed. He settles between Chan’s knees at his feet. Chan gives him a look; Felix blinks back serenely. “Jisung’s just… more teary about it, and I’m the only one that’s allowed to make him cry, so.”

Felix’s hands are on Chan’s thighs. “I promise I’ll text more from now on,” Chan says. 

“Good. So what’ve you been up to?” Minho asks.

Felix’s fingers slip under the waistband of Chan’s underwear. “Uh, not much,” Chan says. “Hey, listen, I should probably just go, like, do my job since I’m up. It gets hot in the afternoons. But get Jisung, and Jeongin if you can, and I’ll call later today. Like around 5 your time?” Minho groans. “C’mon, it’ll be nice if we can all talk.” He freezes when Felix reaches into his fucking pants and wraps a hand around his cock. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too strained. “Besides, you should be asleep.”

“Fine,” Minho grumbles. “It’ll make Jisung happy.” 

“Okay, talk later, I promise.” Felix has pulled Chan’s cock out over his waistband. “Bye.”

“Bye.” The call barely ends before Felix has his mouth on Chan. 

Chan throws his phone somewhere on his bed and hisses out a moan. “What the fuck, Felix?” Felix doesn’t reply except to hum softly around Chan’s cock. “I was talking to my friend!” Felix takes him deeper, swirling his tongue over the tip. Chan presses his hand to his mouth to muffle a moan. “What if someone saw you?” he tries again. 

This gets Felix to pull off, and Chan squashes his disappointment under his thumb. “No one saw me,” Felix says. “Abeoji is already gone, and Eomma was in the shower.”

“What if she goes to check on you before she leaves?” Chan asks. He takes the sting out of the question by reaching down and cupping Felix’s jaw. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, baby.”

“She’s not gonna check on me,” Felix says. “And even if she did, she wouldn’t care or come looking.” He huffs softly, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “Now are you gonna let me blow you, or what?”

Chan laughs quietly. “‘Course I am,” he says. “You were just trying to surprise me, right?”

Felix nods petulantly, sinking back down on him, little hands braced on Chan’s thighs for support. Chan combs his fingers through Felix’s hair, getting a good fistful of the pink locks and tightening his grip—not enough to hurt, just enough for Felix to feel it. Felix hollows his cheeks and takes him even deeper, his face practically buried between Chan’s legs.

“Mm, god, Lix, does it ever stop for you?” Chan whispers. Felix shakes his head. “You just woke up and your first thought was, ‘I should go choke on Chan’s cock’?” Felix nods. “Jesus.” He brushes his own hair back with his other hand. “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it properly.”

He forces Felix’s head down a little, and Felix swallows around him, gagging softly, but he doesn’t resist. His eyes flutter shut as he takes Chan deeper still, until Chan feels the head of his cock hit the back of Felix’s throat. He stops then, giving Felix a second to adjust. “Good girl,” Chan murmurs, and Felix whimpers softly. “Can’t believe how well you take me.” He reaches down and smoothes his thumb over Felix’s pinched eyebrows. “Breathe, baby. Relax. I’m gonna fuck your throat, right?”

Felix does as he’s told with a nod, breathing in deep through his nose, melting against Chan’s body. His grip on Chan’s thighs loosens, and he swallows around Chan again, this time without gagging. He looks up at Chan, pretty eyes wide and inviting. 

“Ready?” Chan asks. Felix gives a minuscule nod. “Pinch me if you need to stop.” Felix rolls his eyes; Chan gives him an exasperated look in return, tightens the fist in Felix’s hair, and first pulls him off, then pushes him back down. 

Felix can take a lot. Chan learned that quickly. But still, it amazes him how quietly and easily he can deepthroat Chan. And Chan’s a realist, he knows he’s sort of just average size, but it’s not like he’s small. He shoves his cock down Felix’s throat and the only noise that comes is the wetness of the thick saliva that has gathered in Felix’s mouth. It takes a long minute or two before Felix starts gagging, but even then he doesn’t ask Chan to stop.

A sort of haze gathers in Chan’s peripheral, and he forces himself to pull out. Felix coughs wetly, panting, as Chan jerks himself off with quick, rough strokes. He realizes Felix has started to cry, but Felix only swipes the tears away and tips his head back, opening his mouth. “Wanna taste you, daddy,” he demands, voice hoarse. He sticks his tongue out, making his eyes big and pleading.

Chan curses softly and lays the head of his cock on Felix’s tongue with shaking hands. “Gonna make me—” He can’t even finish the sentence, too overwhelmed, but Felix knows. It only takes a couple more strokes, and he’s coming on Felix’s tongue, coating the roof of his mouth with his release. 

Felix doesn’t try to swallow until Chan finally pulls out, and once he does he opens his mouth after to prove he did it.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Chan murmurs, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. “Come here, baby, up on the bed with me. I’ll take care of you.”

Felix lets Chan pull him up onto the mattress and manhandle him into his lap. Chan scoots them back, rotating so he can lean up against the headboard. Felix hardly seems to pay this any mind, already attaching his mouth to Chan’s chest, kissing over his collarbones. 

Chan undoes the sash of Felix’s robe, and he shrugs it off, letting the fabric slip away, revealing his pretty body. Chan can see his cock, tip beading precome, glistening even in the dark. He tries not to think about how there’s probably a dark wet stain on one of the folds of Felix’s robes. 

“Baby,” Chan whispers, taking hold of Felix’s chin and forcing him to look up. “There you are.” He leans in and kisses him, letting go of his jaw so he can wrap his arms around Felix’s waist instead, pulling him in. He can taste himself on Felix’s tongue, earthy and bitter. Felix moans into his mouth, rolling his hips up, his cock dragging against Chan’s abs. 

“Mm, I, I,” Felix says between kisses. “I fingered myself open b-before I came down here. Used lots of lube, so—” Chan nips at his lip and he cuts himself off to gasp. “—so I’m nice ‘n’ wet. You can—you can finger me, daddy, please.”

“Fuck,” Chan mutters, letting one hand dip down low, circling Felix’s entrance. He’s slick with lube, just like he said, and two of Chan’s fingers slip in with ease. Chan can picture it clearly, Felix on his elbows and knees, panting quietly in the pre-morning blue dark of his room, working himself open and making sure every spot he can reach is wet and ready before clambering off his bed and wrapping himself in his robe to come down and wake Chan up.

“Told you, I’ll keep myself prepped for you,” Felix says breathily. 

“You’re trying to kill me,” Chan accuses.

“No, I’m not into necrophilia,” Felix replies immediately. 

“I hate you,” Chan mutters, suppressing a smile. He shoves a third finger in and presses up. Felix drops his forehead to Chan’s shoulder, making a noise of surprise. Chan thrusts his fingers up again, hot satisfaction settling under his skin when he feels more precome blurt out of the tip of Felix’s cock and drip down onto Chan’s stomach. 

“Yes, yes,” Felix pants. “Like that, daddy, yes.” He rocks his hips up, and if Chan hadn’t literally just come, he knows he’d be in danger. 

He fingers Felix fast and ruthless, holding him close with his other arm and murmuring praise into his ear. Felix digs his fingernails into Chan’s biceps, bouncing back on Chan’s fingers, rutting his cock up against Chan’s body. His moans are quiet—even he knows what they’re doing is a little risky—but the sounds fill Chan’s head anyway.

“Such a perfect little slut,” Chan coos. “Always wanting to be filled, trying to get off. What am I gonna do with you, babygirl?” 

Felix whines softly, biting down on Chan’s pec, low enough that a tank top will easily cover it. Chan sees the muscles in his back tense. He rarely announces it when he’s going to come—Chan almost wonders if it’s a surprise to him each time, except he can’t imagine that’s true—but Chan’s getting pretty good at figuring him out. 

“Gonna come, sweetheart?” he murmurs, leaning close and speaking into Felix’s temple. Felix nods jerkily. “Gonna come on daddy’s fingers? Lemme see it, baby.” 

Felix lets out a soft, defeated sob, and then he’s coming all over Chan’s stomach, hole clenching and unclenching around Chan’s fingers. “Fuck, oh fuck, daddy, daddy,” he babbles, muffled. It takes over his whole body; he shakes, toes curling in the sheets, fingers and arms rigid. At last he collapses against Chan, right into the mess he just made.

Chan pulls his fingers out, reaching with his other hand for the box of tissues on his nightstand. He presses kisses to the top of Felix’s head while he cleans off his fingers, then reaches down to swipe away the excess around his hole. Felix whimpers softly. 

“Sore?” Chan murmurs. “Sorry, just don’t want you to walk out of here with lube dripping down your thighs.”

Felix moans happily. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, I would,” Chan says, pinching his hip. 

“Mmm,” Felix hums. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

“Oh fuck, is that today?” Chan asks. “I was wondering what this was all about.”

Felix sits back, reaching for a tissue too so he can clean off his tummy. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m going to be totally booked all of tomorrow with family stuff. Tonight too. Such a drag.”

Chan nudges him. “You’ll get presents, at least,” he points out. “And it’s just a couple days. I think you can survive without my dick for that long.”

“What if I can’t?” Felix asks, but he’s grinning. 

“Then you know where to find me,” Chan replies, pulling him in for a soft kiss. Felix drapes his arms over Chan’s shoulders and kisses back with a sweet sigh. 

“Who was that on the phone?” Felix asks when they pull away. 

“Oh,” Chan says, glancing around to see his phone balancing precariously at the foot of the bed. “My friend from home. Just wondering why I hadn’t texted for the past couple days. Worried I was murdered or something.”

“Just a friend?” Felix asks. 

Chan frowns at him. “Uh, yeah, just a friend. What are you, jealous? I don’t ask who else you might be fucking.”

Felix sighs. “I was just wondering.” He pats around behind him and finds his robe, drawing it up over his shoulders. 

Chan feels bad for snapping at him. It was just a question. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Would it be a problem, if he wasn’t just a friend?”

“No,” Felix says, but it’s curt. 

“Baby, you can talk to me, you know?” Chan tries to reach up and touch his face, but Felix ducks away, expression souring.

“I said no. It’s fine,” he says. He climbs off Chan’s lab, tossing the soiled tissue in the garbage and bending to pick up his sash. “I’m going back to bed to get some more sleep,” he says as he fastens it. “It’s almost six, so you should probably head to breakfast before Maya leaves for the day. Our private chef won’t cook for you like she does.”

Right, Christmas. Maya will be off at around ten today and won’t be back until the day after Christmas. It’s just going to be Chan and the chef for the holiday. 

“Yeah, okay,” Chan agrees uncertainly. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Felix says, pausing to give Chan a swift kiss before sweeping out of the room. 

“Merry Christmas,” Chan whispers to the closed door. 

* * *

“Chan!” Jisung picks up on the first ring, even though Chan called Minho’s phone. “I miss you, how are you?”

“Hey Jisung,” Chan replies, grinning. “I’m good. I miss you too. All of you. Am I on speaker?”

“Yes,” Minho calls, sounding a little faint, like he’s across the room. 

Chan finished his chores early and decided to take a walk around the neighborhood for this call. He’s not sure yet exactly how much he’s going to tell his friends, but he definitely wants to talk somewhere where he can’t be overheard.

“Hi Chan!” This is Jeongin. “We’re at Minho’s parents’ house for a Christmas party! We’re hiding out in Minho’s bedroom with the cats while all the grown-ups deal with the food.”

“So what have you been up to?” Minho asks, sounding much closer to the phone now. “I refuse to believe you’ve just been working. How’s Australia?”

“It’s good to be back,” Chan says. “And it’s hot.”

“It’s so weird to me that Christmas is in the summer there,” Jeongin says. “It fucking snowed here last night.”

“Sounds nice,” Chan says, wiping some sweat off his forehead. “It’s literally brutal here.”

“So, seriously, you’re just sweating your balls of cleaning some rich family’s pool, and that’s it? Do you get time off?” Minho resumes grilling him. “School hasn’t started yet, so you can’t be that busy.”

“You guys are alone?” Chan confirms. 

“Yes, we are,” Jisung says. “What, what is it?”

“So, uh.” Chan scratched the back of his head, looking around to make sure he’s alone on the street. “Well, this family has a couple of kids, right, and they’re all around our age. The son, Felix, he’s the same year as you, Jisung. And…” Chan hesitates, not sure how to explain.

“Oh my god,” Minho says loudly. “Oh my god, Chan, are you fucking him?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Chan mutters, and then has to hold his phone away from his ear as his friends erupt into shrieks of shock. 

Jeongin: “Hyung, you’re gonna get fired.”

Jisung: “Is he hot?”

Minho: “So that’s why you haven’t been texting us!”

“Yes, obviously he’s hot,” Chan says, choosing the easiest of these to reply to. “He’s beautiful, and he wears little skirts and stockings and makeup. And he was the one that seduced me, I’ll have you all know. He wouldn’t leave me alone! What was I supposed to do, tell him no?”

“Yes,” Minho says drily.

“So, like, what are you gonna do?” Jisung asks. 

“I dunno! He goes back to school in like a month, which is over in Perth so it’s not like I’ll see him after that, except maybe over Easter break.” Chan kicks at a pebble. “I like him, though. When he’s not being a little brat, he’s very sweet.” He pauses, thinking back to this morning. “A little odd, though.”

“Anyone would be odd if they grew up around that much money,” Minho points out. 

“He’s really moody,” Chan says. “Not sure what causes it, but… he’s just hard to figure out, I guess. But I like him.”

“It’s that good, huh?” Minho teases, and Chan groans. 

“Yes, okay? I wish you guys could see him, you’d understand,” Chan says. “He’s so pretty. He doesn’t look real.”

“Maybe you’re hallucinating him,” Jeongin suggests, laughing. 

“I almost wish I was,” Chan mutters wearily. “But anyway, that’s it, really. Just me making some really poor decisions. But what about you guys? How have things been since I left?”

The other three launch into updates about their lives—family drama, news from school. Chan listens, comforted by their voices and the familiarity of their struggles. The whole time he’s been here, he’s been so busy with his work (and with Felix) that he didn’t realize how homesick he was, but now, listening to his friends chatter, he feels kinda lonely. He takes a couple more turns around the block this way, chatting and laughing.

“My mom’s calling, I think we have to go,” Minho says finally. 

“Go on, enjoy your party,” Chan says. “We’ll call again soon.”

“Enjoy your fuckbuddy,” Jeongin says.

“Think about it this way!” Jisung says cheerfully when Chan groans. “At least you don’t have to worry about getting him pregnant!”

“I’m hanging up,” Chan says over their laughter. “I love you all, somehow. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, hyung!”

“We love you, too.”

Chan waits for them to hang up, then pockets his phone with a sigh. The air is still and quiet now without their voices in his ear. He makes his way back to the house, punching in the code for the gate and slipping past, making sure it closes behind him. He goes around back, taking the staff entrance by the garage. The family is still having dinner. Once they move to the second floor, he supposes he’ll go scrounge for leftovers. 

* * *

Christmas passes. Chan doesn’t see Felix again until a couple days after, which does strike him as bizarre seeing how they live in the same house. Felix returns to him with a smile, like the weird moment they had the morning of Christmas Eve never happened. Chan chooses to ignore it, too, and in doing so, closes a door on some of his emotions swirling beneath the surface. It’s not like that will go anywhere, right? Felix has made that clear. 

And so they fall into a routine. Now that the holidays are coming to a close, Felix has realized he has some prep work for school, so he spends his mornings on that while Chan does his chores. When he finishes, he sneaks up to Felix’s room so they can fuck before dinner. Luckily, with the sparse number of staff members, they’re never in danger of getting caught.

New Year’s Eve comes before Chan knows it. The family has a party to attend after dinner, so Chan hurries through his chores since Felix will need time to get dressed. He scarfs down a lunch of cold leftovers, and then picks his way upstairs, dodging Olivia and one of the maids. They didn’t have a chance yesterday since Felix had an appointment in town—something about a magazine shoot, though Chan didn’t really get the details.

Felix is at his desk, bent over a textbook, glitter pen in hand when Chan opens his door. He looks up and immediately breaks into a smile when he sees him, capping his pen and putting it down, closing the book over it to mark his place. Chan locks the door behind him and crosses the room, taking Felix’s face in his hands and kissing him without saying hello. 

“Ugh, finally, you’re so slow,” Felix complains between kisses, letting Chan pull him to his feet and push the chair out of the way. His beautiful voice, Chan finds himself thinking. Deep and rich and smooth. “I was so bored, daddy, and I missed you yesterday, and—ah!”

Chan bends him over his desk with a hand on his back. Felix’s knees knock cutely as he grips the edge of the desk, making breathless little noises of want. His tiny skirt—white today, with a matching bralette and thigh-highs that dig into the soft skin and create a little bubble over the top—hides nothing at this angle, flipped up to reveal Felix’s pink little hole, his cock hanging between his thighs. He’s not wearing any panties.

“You’re such a brat,” Chan murmurs, hoping his tone hides the worst of his affection, pulling the chair back and sitting down in it, scooting closer and spreading Felix’s ass with one hand. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Felix chants, shivering. 

“Did you get all clean for me?” Chan asks, pressing a dry thumb to his rim. 

“Yes, I saw you finishing up in the pool,” Felix tells him, breathless. “But you’re gonna have to prep me, I didn’t have time.”

“That’s fine, baby,” Chan says, and leans in, licking a flat stripe over his entrance. Felix moans again, pushing his ass back, and after a few more minutes of teasing, Chan eats him out in earnest, getting both of them messy with spit as he works to push his tongue inside.

One day without each other shouldn’t make such a difference, but both of them have clearly gotten used to getting off multiple times a day, so the wait has felt like forever. Chan’s already rock-hard in his shorts, a tent forming in the fabric over his crotch. 

Felix is dripping precome onto the floor between his feet, Chan notices when he pulls back to take a breath. It’s kind of cute and really hot, the way he hands his body over to Chan and does very little to manage the way it reacts.

Chan reaches into the second desk drawer for lube so he can actually open Felix up, drizzling some over his index finger and giving Felix one last kiss before pushing his finger inside. 

“Oh-hhh, yes, Chan,” Felix slurs, pressing his cheek to the desk. 

Chan stretches him easily, Felix’s body already used to this kind of intrusion. He finds his prostate and pets over the spot, watching Felix shake. They’ve never tried it, but Chan wants to watch him come like this, so he stays here, massaging over the spot and stroking over Felix’s perineum with his thumb at the same time. 

“Oh, fuck, feels so good,” Felix mumbles. “Mm, keep going. I feel warm, Chan, all over.”

“Good,” Chan says quietly. Felix gasps out little moans, his legs trembling. “Relax, baby, it only works if you relax.”

Felix whimpers but obeys, slumping against the desk and letting Chan milk his prostate. After a few more minutes, a shudder passes through Felix’s whole body, and a small spurt of release dribbles from Felix’s cock, dripping down his legs and mixing with his precome on the floor. 

“Ohhh, god, that’s so—I can’t—Chan,” Felix babbles. “More.”

Chan adds a second finger, scissoring them inside Felix to press at his walls. He is trying to prep him, after all. Once Felix’s body seems to accommodate the stretch, Chan starts again, stroking over his prostate, slow and insistent. 

He’s only seen it in porn, if he’s being honest, but Chan does his research. He tried it on himself once, but either it’s really that much better with a partner or Chan’s body just doesn’t do that, but it didn’t work—it felt nice at first, but ended up just kind of uncomfortable. He’s delighted (and honestly unsurprised) to find that Felix is capable.

Felix shudders out soft moans, voice sweet and poisonous as ever, shakily readjusting his grip on the desk. It’s obscene, Chan thinks, leaning back in the chair to take him in. His little skirt lies flat against his back. One of his thigh-highs is slipping down. There’s a puddle of his release between his feet. Chan couldn’t have imagined something hotter. 

“Daddy,” Felix whimpers, so soft, so helpless. “Think I’m gonna—feels so—” He chokes on a moan, going up on his tiptoes and bending his knees. More release drips out. He settles again, body heavy against the desk, like his legs really are going to give out at any moment. “It feels like coming,” he mumbles, “but not.”

“You look so pretty, baby, so wrecked,” Chan says softly, leaning around so Felix can see him over his shoulder. “Think you can take another finger?”

“Yes,” Felix says immediately. “You’re still gonna fuck me, right?”

Chan’s lips twitch in amusement. “Of course I am,” he replies. “We have all afternoon, don’t we?”

Felix hums, placated. “Yes,” he agrees softly. 

Chan pushes three fingers in. Felix tenses around him for half a second, and then relaxes with a sigh. Chan sinks his fingers all the way to the last knuckle, moving slow and enjoying Felix’s reactions, the way he huffs out little moans, the way his legs still won’t stop shaking. 

One of Felix’s hands slips off the desk, and instead of trying to regain his grip, he brings the dropped hand to his cock, stroking in time with Chan’s fingers. Chan doesn’t even bother saying anything. He knows even if Felix comes, he’ll be able to come again when Chan fucks him. 

“Chan, mm, god, Chan,” Felix mumbles. “Always make me feel so good.”

It only takes Chan cramming his pinky in beside the others for Felix to convulse against his desk, hips twitching as he comes. It spills over his knuckles and down his legs, soaking into the fabric of his thigh-highs. 

“Ready,” Chan says calmly, pulling his fingers out and letting Felix struggle through pushing himself off the desk and upright. 

He manages it, turning around and carefully avoiding the puddle of his release on the floor, leaning back against the edge of the desk and looking down at Chan through heavy-lidded eyes. He brings his soiled hand up to his lips and sticks one of his fingers in his mouth, cleaning himself up as he catches his breath. 

“God,” he hums. “It’s gonna be so annoying when I go back to school.” Another finger pops out clean; he moves on to the next. “Who’s gonna fuck me like this?” He turns his hand so he can lick over the back of it. “You’re gonna have to call me, daddy.”

Chan smiles. “Guess I will,” he agrees. 

“Good.” Felix’s hand is clean of come, and he reaches behind him for a tissue, then turns back around and bends down to wipe off the floor. Chan clenches his hands in his lap so he doesn’t pinch Felix’s ass, even though he’s pretty sure that’s exactly what Felix wants. Felix stands again, tossing the tissue into the garbage and giving Chan a glance over his shoulder before waltzing over to his bed. “Well? Come fuck me.”

Chan stands, tugging off his clothes and draping them over the back of the desk chair. “Just one round, though,” he says. “Your parents will be home soon, and you have your New Year’s dinner to get ready for.”

“If you hurry, we’ll have time for two,” Felix says slyly. 

Chan, now naked, strolls past him to grab a condom, one hand on his cock to start working himself up to full hardness. “Why are you so insatiable?” he asks.

“C’mon, quick,” Felix demands, pouting.

Chan tears the condom open with his teeth, rolling it on and spreading a little lube over his cock. “God, but if they find out, they’d be so mad,” he says. The fear is real, but right now it’s far away, and easy to joke about. “They’d never forgive me for corrupting you.” 

They both know if anything, it was the other way around, but neither of them mention it. Instead, Felix bends over the bed, arching his back and spreading himself with his hands. “Corrupting me?” he repeats. “Then come finish the job, daddy. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Chan murmurs. He grabs his underwear from the chair and brings them back to the bed with him. “Open. You’re gonna be loud, and I know one of the maids is right downstairs.” 

Felix obeys, blinking up at him prettily as Chan stuffs his underwear into his mouth. Satisfied, Chan steps back, lining himself up behind Felix and gently swatting his hands out of the way. He collects Felix’s wrists in one of his palms and pins them against his tailbone, right over the pleats of his skirt.

For how casually he’s been acting, Chan is aching. He stops wasting time, finally pushing in with a soft groan. Felix lets out a muffled whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. Chan tightens his grip on Felix’s wrists as he bottoms out, clenching his jaw.

“So tight today, babygirl,” he grits out. “Does it hurt?” Felix nods with another tiny whimper. “Doesn’t matter how much I fuck you, does it? Just one day, and your body tightens right back up for me.” He takes a couple slow, shallow thrusts, waiting for Felix to open up for him. “Perfect,” he adds. “Made for fucking.”

Felix moans at this, barely audible through the fabric crammed in his mouth. His hair has partially fallen into his face. He looks like an angel, Chan thinks before he can stop himself. It wouldn’t matter; it’s true whether Chan lets himself think it or not. 

Chan can move with ease now, so he speeds up, thrusting in with much more force until the sound of skin against skin is loud enough to make him a little nervous. But Felix is making pleased sounds, so Chan decides it’s worth a little risk. He lets his jaw drop open, panting out sharp exhales, trying to keep himself silent as best he can.

It’s difficult, though. Felix is warm and wet around him. Pleasure is a hot, heavy stone in the pit of Chan’s stomach, and the feeling only grows with every movement. The A/C is on high, but still Chan feels sweat beading on his hairline, can feel the flush that’s crept up his neck to his cheeks and down to his chest.

Felix moans out what sounds like yes, daddy, faster. Chan obeys immediately, somehow speeding up the rocking up his hips. Felix’s eyebrows pinch prettily, his eyes finding Chan’s. He’s picture-perfect, even with his hair in his face and tears welling up quick on his waterline. Maybe especially. One tear spills over, a fat drop of water. It rolls sideways down his face, over the bridge of his cute nose, distorting his freckles. He blinks, and another tear falls, and another. His eyeliner begins to smear. 

Chan doesn’t know why, but Felix’s tears turn him on just as much as the skirts and stockings. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs. “Feels that good?” Felix manages a nod, sniffling. “Finally getting fucked like you wanted?” Another nod, followed by a muffled sob. Chan has half the mind to take the makeshift gag out, just to hear Felix’s voice. “Gonna take care of you,” he says instead. This gets him another muted sob in response, and pride glows warm in his chest. 

Chan continues to pound into him, almost enraptured by the way Felix’s tears work to ruin his careful makeup. Felix’s wrists slip from his hold, but Chan doesn’t move to take them again. If Felix wants to take the underwear out, Chan doesn’t think he wants to stop him. Felix doesn’t, though, just uses his arms to prop himself on his elbows, fucking himself back on Chan’s cock, taking fistfuls of the sheets and letting his head hang. 

Chan secures a hold on Felix’s waist with one hand, using the other to reach up and grab Felix’s hair. Felix makes a noise of want in the back of his throat the instant Chan’s fingertips brush past his scalp. Chan takes his pretty hair into his fist and uses it to pull his head back up, until Felix is arched back and whimpering. He wishes there was a mirror, so he could see the tear-tracks on his face, the red blush that colors his neck and chest, the way his tiny fingers are curled tight into the duvet. 

Felix spits the gag out, almost like a challenge. “Y-yes,” he stutters, finally free. “Chan, yes, like that. Fuck, I’m gonna feel you all night long, you’re all I’m gonna think about.”

Chan can’t help the noise that escapes him, low and guttural. He likes that a lot. Felix will be around so many rich, beautiful people tonight, but he’ll have the reminder of Chan with every step. A mark of possession. Chan might never be part of the world Felix is from, but he’ll have this. He’ll know he had him. 

Felix does seem to try to keep his noises to a minimum, despite the fact that he doesn’t have anything stopping him anymore. Either he’s just humoring Chan, trying to prove that he can be good, or he’s actually taken Chan’s warning to heart. He cries softly, the sound muted by his closed lips. 

“Staying so quiet for me,” Chan whispers. “Good girl.”

“Oh, fuck,” Felix says in a small, broken voice. “F-fuck, daddy, thank you, thank you.” 

Chan presses his fingers into Felix’s hips, wondering if he can sear his fingerprints in through the fabric of the skirt if he tries hard enough. He feels the heat build inside him, a fever threatening to eat him alive. Stars float in front of his vision, and he fights to keep an even pace. Felix hiccups out little moans, mumbling more thank you, daddys and right there, yes, pleases. Chan’s world is spinning, spinning; he makes some kind of noise, but it’s hazy even to his own ears. He thinks he feels the tension snap in his stomach.

“Mm, yes,” Felix hisses out. Chan closes his eyes, his hips still moving, though erratically now. “So warm, daddy, can feel it. Wish you could fill me up for real, wish I could keep you with me tonight, a load plugged up and hidden—”

There’s rushing in Chan’s ears, and he sways, body twitching. He thinks he lets go of Felix’s hair, thinks he can feel Felix clenching around him, can feel him writhing in pleasure beneath him, but it’s all so far away.

Chan tilts himself forward, caging Felix’s body with his arms and resting his forehead against his back, breathing deep and slow. Felix giggles softly. The noise is a little clearer, or maybe Chan’s just closer. “Are you gonna pass out?” he hears Felix ask.

“No,” he says hoarsely, then reconsiders and adds, “I don’t know.”

Another breathy giggle. “‘Cause I wouldn’t be able to move,” Felix says. “I’d—I’d be trapped here with you on top of me, still inside me.”

The world is coming back into focus, but Chan doesn’t dare open his eyes. He feels lightheaded. “You sound like you’d like that a lot,” he mutters. “Didn’t you just come?

“Yeah, but you know. Worse people to be trapped under,” Felix hums placidly. “Worse cocks to be stuck on.”

“Thanks, I think,” Chan says.

They lay there for a few long moments, just breathing. Chan doesn’t drop his full weight onto Felix—as much as Felix seems convinced he’d like it, Chan is a little worried he’s going to crush him. It is oddly peaceful, slowly floating down together in the afterglow. The room smells like sex, but Chan’s nose is against Felix’s skin, and the sweet citrusy scent all but overpowers it. He takes another deep breath.

“Felix! Olivia!” The intercom crackles to life and Chan nearly has a heart attack, snapping his eyes open and lurching off of Felix’s body before realizing Mrs. Lee’s voice is coming from the speaker, which means she has to be downstairs in her office. “We have dinner in an hour and the Hwang’s New Year’s Eve party to get to right after. Your sister is already ready. I won’t allow us to be late! Dressed and downstairs in forty-five minutes, no excuses!”

The room is silent, and then Felix buries his face in his duvet and laughs.

“How are you laughing?” Chan complains. “I think I almost pissed myself.”

“Take back what I said,” Felix says into the duvet. “Glad you have a condom on. Piss is where I draw the line.”

Chan pulls out, rolling the offending condom off and tossing it in the trash. “Shut up,” he mutters. “Well, you heard her.” Felix stands, too, reaching for a tissue to wipe his come off the bed. “You have forty-five minutes to not look like you just got fucked, so you better hurry up.”

“I’m a professional, I can do it in twenty,” Felix says. When he turns to Chan, he’s got a glint in his eye that Chan knows means trouble. “Which means we have time for one last round.” 

“Felix, she’s home,” Chan hisses.

“So?” Felix says. “We’ve fucked with my parents home before.”

“Yeah, but not on a night like tonight!” Chan says. “What if she comes up to check that you’re actually getting ready?”

Felix makes a face. “She won’t,” he says, and there’s a bitterness there that Chan doesn’t quite understand. “She’d rather be disappointed.” He seems to sense Chan is wavering, and clears his expression. “Please,” he wheedles. “One more, just one. So I can make it through this stupid party.”

“I thought you were friends with the Hwangs’ son,” Chan says, but he’s already going for a fresh condom. Felix tosses him his underwear and he puts them with his other clothing.

“Yeah, but our parents are going to be breathing down our fucking necks,” Felix says. He crawls up to the head of the bed. “You can go slow this time, so the bed doesn’t creak. Besides,” he adds with a giggle as he unclasps his bralette and throws it in the general direction of his hamper. “I think if you fucked me like you just did, I’d bleed—which normally I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t think Eomma would take kindly to bloodstains on my new suit.”

“Oh, a suit?” Chan says, raising an eyebrow, climbing onto the bed, too. Felix reaches out for his cock, so Chan moves closer, watching Felix’s little hands wrap around it. He’s sensitive, but they’ve taken enough of a break that it’s not unbearable.

“Mm, a suit. It’s white silk, very pretty,” Felix says. “This is a serious event, my parents would never let me go in a skirt.”

“I’ll always like the skirts best,” Chan says as Felix sits up properly so he can press his tongue to the tip of Chan’s cock. Chan inhales sharply through clenched teeth, the air almost whistling from the speed. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a pretty suit, too.”

“Come see us off after dinner,” Felix says. “Ask my mum if she needs anything before she goes. She’ll like that, and you’ll get to see me.”

“Okay,” Chan agrees softly, running a hand through Felix’s hair.

Felix uses his hands and mouth to work Chan back up to hardness. Chan watches the clock. It takes ten minutes. He’s going to have to be quick if they don’t want to get caught. There’s a part of him that knows he should’ve said no, should’ve gotten dressed and left, but a bigger part of him is enjoying the risk. Or maybe it’s just the part of him that wants to agree to everything Felix says.

So Chan rolls the new condom on, adds more lube. Felix settles back into the pillows, spreading his legs, cock just beginning to harden again underneath his skirt. Downstairs, Felix’s family prepares for dinner, for a party, and doesn’t wonder what’s taking Felix so long, doesn’t wonder where Chan has disappeared to. Just a few floors above them, Chan pushes back into Felix’s body with a soft grunt. Felix wraps his arms around Chan’s shoulders, his legs around Chan’s waist, pulling him close. 

It’s slow and quiet, completely different from the way they are just a half an hour before. Chan stays buried deep and circles his hips, grinding into Felix, his lips on Felix’s throat, his Adam’s Apple, his jaw. Felix ducks his head so they can kiss, deep and fierce and almost noiseless. 

“Chan,” Felix whispers between kisses. “So good to me.”

Chan smiles against his lips. Here, wrapped in each other's bodies, they can’t possibly hurt each other. “Of course I am,” he says. “I want what you want.”

“Even when it’s a terrible idea?” Amusement is a shining light behind Felix’s eyes.

Chan kisses him, quick and almost chaste. “I’m here, aren’t I?” he asks when he pulls away.

“Yes,” Felix whispers. The amusement fades, replaced by something else. “You’re here.”

Chan cups his face in his hands, stroking over his cheekbones with his thumbs. His makeup is destroyed, mascara drying on his cheeks and lip gloss smudged on his chin. His nose is still red, eyes still puffy, from crying. And he’s beautiful. I’ll be here as long as you want me, Chan thinks helplessly.

He kisses him again so he doesn’t say it. Their noses bump, but Felix leans in insistently, holding Chan close, fingers interlocked behind his neck. Chan breathes Felix in, lemon and sugar and sweat, rolling his hips, dirty and deep, swallowing all of Felix’s soft moans. Chan can feel Felix’s heartbeat under his fingertips, quick like a rabbit’s. Felix holds him close like he doesn’t want to let go.

When Chan comes, he doesn’t even make a sound. It passes through his body like something washing up on the shore—slow, almost languid, final. Felix kisses him through it, clenching tight dutifully, making it good for him. 

Chan pulls out and replaces his cock with a couple of his fingers, and works them in as deep as they’ll go, then thrusts shallowly, not enough to make a lot of noise. With his other hand, he thumbs over the slit of Felix’s cock. Felix covers his mouth with his hands, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling, abdomen tight from the exertion. 

He comes in a few weak dribbles that run down Chan’s knuckles, a tiny amount of fluid, nearly clear. Felix twists in the sheets but stays quiet, lifting his hips up off the bed as he shakes. “Good girl,” Chan murmurs, and Felix whines high and faint in the back of his throat.

There are twenty minutes exactly left for Felix to get ready when Chan hops off the bed to discard the condom and go wash his hands. Felix is working his way to the edge of the bed when Chan returns from the bathroom. He grabs his tank top and throws it on, walking over to the bed to give Felix a kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll come see you off later, yeah?” he says.

Felix nods. “I’ll see you later.” He slips down onto the floor and stumbles, knees buckling. Chan grabs him before he can fall to the floor, and Felix giggles weakly. “Oh god, you fucked me so good, hyung,” he says, voice syrupy-sweet. “Oh, shit.” Chan lets him go and he wobbles, but remains standing. “Oh, my legs feel like jelly. What if I can’t walk?” He’s still giggling when he looks up at Chan.

“That’s not funny,” Chan groans, heading back to the desk chair to put on the rest of his clothes. “If your parents find out about this because I fucked you so hard you can’t walk right, I will literally never forgive myself.”

“Kind of a great way to go, though,” Felix says blithely, waltzing into the bathroom. “Go, before they really do catch you.”

“Right,” Chan mutters to himself, tying the waistband of his shorts.

* * *

Chan goes to bed early that night. He sees the family off, watching Felix out of the corner of his eye. The suit is very pretty, a warm-toned white, oversized and draped over Felix’s body perfectly. The shirt is made of a shimmery, gossamer fabric, and Mrs. Lee reminds Felix three times to button another button. She also tells Chan to take a bottle of champagne from the cellar to celebrate. 

Chan takes a bottle but doesn’t open it, just leaves it on his desk and heads into the shower to wash the day’s sins off of his body. He finds Felix’s come crusted in his nailbeds, and hopes to god nobody noticed.

He falls asleep long before midnight and wakes sometime in the stifling darkness of the early hours to a body next to his own, warm and smelling of champagne.

“Felix?” he whispers. “What time is it? Are you drunk?”

“No, just a little tipsy,” Felix whispers back. He sounds clearheaded; he must be telling the truth. “And it’s a little past two. Your door was unlocked. I just—wanted to come say goodnight. I wanted to see you.”

He’s not in his suit. He’s not in a robe, either; instead, little sleep shorts and an unassuming t-shirt, loose and soft from wear. Chan blinks against the dark, reaching a hand up to touch his face. His hair is still damp from his shower. “How was the party?”

Felix crawls under the blankets, pressing cold toes to Chan’s shins. “It was alright. I got to see my friends, at least. I need to see you and Changbin side by side. I think his arms are even bigger than yours.”

Chan exhales soft laughter, wrapping an arm around Felix and kissing the tip of his nose. “Well, alright is better than bad, I guess,” he says. “Make any resolutions?”

“To continue being a horrible little brat,” Felix replies, giggling. “You?”

“I didn’t,” Chan admits. “I didn’t really think about it.”

“It’s just another day,” Felix says with a half-shrug. “Just like yesterday. Just like tomorrow.”

“That’s true,” Chan agrees softly, some tender feeling blooming in his chest. 

“Happy New Year,” Felix whispers.

“Happy New Year,” Chan repeats.

“I didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight,” Felix says.

“You do now,” Chan says, and kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him.

When Chan wakes up the next morning, Felix is already gone, but his sheets smell like champagne and lemons and sugar.

* * *

Chan is in the garden, trimming away dead leaves. Jerry went home early—a doctor’s appointment, Chan thinks he said, so it’s up to Chan to tend to the plants. The afternoon sun is punishing, beating against his back, but Chan honestly doesn’t mind it. The garden, when he’s alone, is peaceful. 

The first week or so of January has passed quietly. There’s only a couple weeks now before the new semester begins, and Chan finds himself looking forward to it. It’ll be nice to have other people around his age to talk to—Felix doesn’t count. 

Speaking of Felix, he thinks to himself as he moves down the row of plants, I wonder where he is? Chan didn’t see him at breakfast or at lunch. It’s not unlike him to sleep in, especially now that his break is almost finished, but Chan usually sees him before the afternoon wears on. Then again, Chan is usually around the house, not out in the gardens. 

He works his way to the center of the garden throughout the afternoon, pausing every now and again for water or sunblock. He gets to the clearing where he found Felix that first evening, and after he finishes his work there, he decides to give himself a break, dropping down onto the bench with a sigh.

He sits there awhile, answering a couple texts and checking his socials. It’s not so bad in the shade, and there’s a breeze today, so Chan actually finds himself comfortable after a few minutes of rest. He tips his head back, looking up at the trees.

He can’t imagine growing up in a place like this. This is an estate. It should be a museum. The whole property is so sterile, almost, pristine; meant for looking at, not living in. Chan honestly found it hard to believe anyone lived this way, except maybe the richest people in the world. But now here Chan is as proof—this sort of life is lived in, just meticulously looked after by unseen hands. 

Chan lets himself sit and contemplate for about a half an hour, and then begrudgingly gets to his feet to get back to work. He collects his tools and is about to move on when he hears uneven footfalls coming his way. 

Felix appears in the entrance to the clearing, wearing the tiny booty shorts and holding a nearly full bottle of wine. It’s a red today, and looks expensive. His lips are stained the faintest hint of dark purple, and his eyes, vacant and unfocused, light up when he sees Chan.

“Oh my god, there you are!” he exclaims. His crop top is slipping off the one of his shoulders; it slips further as he heads Chan’s way. Uneasy, Chan drops his tools back in the grass and pockets his phone. 

“Hey, Felix,” he says slowly, eyeing the bottle in his hand. “Is that… all you drank?” He can’t imagine it is; Felix stumbles over his own feet in the grass. 

Felix holds it up and looks at it, then takes another sip. “No,” he says, almost sing-songy. “I finished one after I got home.”

“Home from where?” Chan asks, letting Felix fall into his arms. “Careful, baby.”

Felix doesn’t answer. He’s busy pressing closer to Chan, nose against his neck. “Hi, daddy,” he slurs. “Missed you this morning.” He surges up and kisses Chan, wet and messy.

Chan raises his chin to get out of his reach. “Uh, yeah,” he says, debating the merits of taking the wine from Felix and the chances he’ll succeed. “I was working, like usual. Where… were you?”

“Oh, you know,” Felix mumbles vaguely, leaning in. Chan flinches back instinctively, and Felix frowns. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

“You’re super drunk, baby,” Chan says softly. “I’m worried about you. Here,” he says, bending down and picking up his water bottle. “How about some water?”

Felix shakes his head, and takes another swig of wine just to spite him. “I don’t want water,” he says petulantly. Chan swears the slurring is getting worse by the sentence. “I want wine, and I want you.” Another swig, and then he offers the bottle to Chan. Chan shakes his head. “‘Member how I said I want it all the time, even if I’m drunk?” He takes one of Chan’s hands with his own. “Well, I meant it.” He tries to pull Chan’s hand around his back, down toward his ass. 

“Felix.” Chan tries to pry his hand out Felix’s grasp as gently as he can, but Felix’s grip is surprisingly strong.

“C’mon, daddy,” Felix murmurs. Chan can feel the swell of one of his cheeks on his palm. “Don’t you want me?” He presses one of Chan’s fingers to his entrance, and Chan registers that he’s already loose and wet with lube.

Chan wrangles himself free, trying to ignore Felix’s gasp of pain when he accidentally bends one of his fingers. “This isn’t a good idea, Felix,” he says softly, hoping to gentle the rejection by keeping his tone light. It’s not that he doesn’t want him, he just doesn’t want him like this. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. The heat can’t be helping.” He tries to start walking them in the direction of the house, but Felix refuses to budge.

“No, please, Chan,” Felix whines. “Why not? You fucked me here before, remember?” Chan does remember. He remembers pressing Felix up against one of the statues and smothering his moans with a hand clamped tight over his mouth. There’s no way he couldn’t remember. “Why won’t you do it now?” Felix continues. “Just ‘cause I’m a little drunk? I told you, it’s fine. I’m a slut, I always want it.” He’s practically spitting the words at Chan; his voice has taken on a strange quality that Chan isn’t sure how to interpret. “I need it.”

“Baby,” Chan says softly. “I’m not gonna fuck you right now. Okay? I’m in the middle of working, and you need to drink some water and sober up, or your mum is going to lose her shit. C’mon, let me help you.”

This seems to infuriate Felix. He wrenches himself away, nearly losing balance. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll tell her about us.”

Fear courses through Chan’s body, but he knows immediately he’d rather take that risk than do something he knows is bad for Felix. “I don’t care,” he says softly. “Tell her. This isn’t right, I won’t do it, I’m not going to fuck you when you’re drunk and clearly—upset about something—”

“I’m not upset, the only thing I’m upset about is that you don’t like me anymore,” Felix protests. “Please, Chan. I need it.”

“No, you don’t,” Chan sighs, going up to him and linking their arms together. “And of course I still like you. We’re gonna go inside, okay? And we’re going to get you some water, and find Maya, and she’ll make you something to eat. I’m worried about you, baby, okay? Will you do this for me?”

Felix grumbles incoherently, but complies nonetheless, letting Chan march him out of the gardens. Chan thinks he murmurs a good girl in Felix’s ear; maybe that’s why he keeps walking. Felix takes drinks of his wine as they go, but Chan decides that that is not a battle worth fighting. He’s going to take this small victory and run, because the last thing he needs is for Felix to refuse to come with him again. In any case, he has much bigger problems to contend with at the moment—Felix trips over his own feet every few steps, most of his weight falling on Chan to carry. 

“Chan,” he slurs, giggles. He presses a sloppy kiss to Chan’s neck, nearly toppling both of them in the process. “You’re soooo strong. How come you’re walking so straight?” More giggles, interrupted by a hiccup. “The world is sideways.”

“Just keep moving,” Chan says. “I’ve got you.”

So he lets Felix drink without saying a word as they cross the bridge, the patio, and finally make it to the back door. Chan isn’t quite sure how he gets both of them inside, but he manages that, too, closing and locking the door behind him and letting Felix use him as a support while he kicks off his shoes. They pad clumsily down the hall, Chan veering them towards the kitchen and praying Maya will be there.

She is, thankfully, cleaning up at the breakfast bar and setting out some fruit. Her eyes widen when she sees them, taking in the drunken flush of Felix’s cheeks and Chan’s strained expression, dropping her work and hurrying to meet them.

“What happened?” she asks Chan.

“I don’t know,” Chan says, lies. “I ran into him when I was working in the garden. He’s…” Chan glances at the bottle in Felix’s hand. It’s already half-empty. “I think that’s his second bottle, I don’t know. He’s really drunk, and I didn’t know what to do, so I managed to convince him to come inside to get some water.”

Maya reaches out for Felix, but he just turns his head away. “Thank you, Chan,” she says softly. “Thank you for looking out for him.” Guilt runs through Chan’s veins like ice, but he nods. “He has days like this, but we’ve survived every one. Here, can you get him into a chair? I’ll go grab some water.”

She turns to go, and Chan starts to walk, but Felix groans, hanging his head, and vomits unceremoniously and without warning onto the floor. It spatters against the hardwoods, some of it splashing onto Chan’s socks. Watered down wine, purple-red, and nothing solid. No wonder he’s so fucked up, Chan finds himself thinking as Felix sways, bottle slipping from his fingers.

Chan’s memories of the next few minutes are blurry. He manages to catch the bottle as Felix drops it, saving it from shattering on the floor. Felix continues to throw up, all liquid, coughing and gagging even when it’s all gone, his full weight sagging against Chan’s side. Chan manages to get Felix into a chair; Maya brings him water and some paper towels to clean himself up with. Chan cleans up the mess on the floor while Maya calls for Felix’s parents. Mr. Lee isn’t home, but his mother takes one look and walks out, disgusted. 

Rachael is the one who takes Felix back to his room. Chan sees them get into the elevator, and that’s the last of it, Felix’s pink hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his face, Rachael with her arm wrapped tight around him, eyes stormy. The door closes, and Chan takes soaked paper towels to the trash.

The kitchen is quiet in the aftermath. Maya sighs softly, looking at Chan over the island. “Sorry,” she says. “But if you work here long enough, you see that eventually.”

“Is he… okay?” Chan ventures, just above a whisper.

“It doesn’t happen that often,” she says. “Usually, he’ll have a glass or two once in a while, and it’s fine. But sometimes…” She gestures helplessly around her. “I don’t know. They…” She lowers her voice. “They took him to a doctor once, but they said it wasn’t unusual for a kid his age to overindulge on occasion. Mr. and Mrs. Lee agreed, so they didn’t send him back.”

“What do you think?” Chan asks.

“I think he’s sad,” she says quietly after a moment of hesitation. “More than he lets on, and sometimes this is the only way he knows how to deal with it.”

* * *

The house has a sort of haunted silence to it for the rest of the day. Chan finishes his work quickly and retreats to his room to try and escape it, only leaving to grab something for dinner in the late evening. But the silence is everywhere, hanging heavy in the air, oppressive.

Still, the next morning, it seems things have returned to normal. Rachael leaves for her internship at her usual time. Felix doesn’t come to breakfast.

Chan only sees him after lunch when he’s restocking the patio. He comes down the stairs almost shyly, taking small, calculated steps and sitting down in a lounge chair slowly, like if he moves quietly enough, Chan won’t see him.

“Thank you,” Felix says finally. “For taking care of me yesterday.”

Chan blinks, setting down a water bottle and straightening, hesitating for a moment before walking over to Felix and sitting in the chair next to him. “Yeah, no, don’t worry about it,” he says. “It was the right thing to do. And…” He looks Felix over. He’s a little pale, and there are bags under his eyes, but he looks fine. “I’m glad you’re okay. Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Felix is silent for a few long minutes. Chan waits patiently, looking out over the sparkling water of the pool.

“My parents hate me,” Felix says at last. There’s a finality to his tone that makes his words sink in like dead weight. “They’re disappointed in everything I do. And you know? Sometimes I am too.” He runs his hands through his hair. “They have an idiot for a son, who gets so drunk he throws up on their hardwoods before dinner, and who has no direction in life and no idea what he wants to be. And honestly?” He waits until Chan is looking at him before he continues. “I’d just feel bad for them, except I know that the thing they hate the most about me is that I’m gay, and I dress like—“ He gestures down at himself. He’s in a demure linen dress today, the top three buttons undone and the waist cinched tight. “—like a sissy slut.” The words come out hard as stones, and Chan understands the tone he took in the garden yesterday. It wasn’t his own voice. It was his mother’s, stealing his tongue. “They pretend they’re supportive, because they don’t want to harm my dad’s image, but—I know the truth,” Felix says. “And I’m—I’m not ashamed of it. I know who I am. But I just wish—” He breaks off, presses his lips together, looking through Chan. “I just wish they loved me,” he finishes quietly. 

Chan’s heart twists in his chest. He still doesn’t really understand—where Felix goes, why he acts the way he does, what it is exactly that he’s running from—but he does feel hurt for him. “Felix,” he says softly.

Felix looks back up at him. “You know I wouldn’t have actually told them, right?” he asks seriously.

Chan blinks. “You… remember that?” He kind of assumed Felix had blacked out for most of the afternoon.

Felix nods miserably. “Yeah,” he mutters. “It’s spotty, but… I remember trying to—to get you to fuck me, and then threatening to tell my parents when you wouldn’t. And I just want you to know that I wouldn’t.” He pauses, looking at Chan, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Thank you,” Chan says softly.

“And I’m sorry.” The words sound like they’re being dragged from Felix’s chest. He must not apologize often, so Chan is honestly touched that he’s doing it now. “For—for throwing myself at you, and for saying I’d do that. And for puking on your socks.”

Chan can’t help the laughter that bursts out of him. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to rein it in. At least there’s a ghost of a smile now on Felix’s lips. “Really, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you. Do you know, the reason I don’t drink often is because I had a night like that in college?”

Felix leans in, intrigued. “Really? You?”

“Yeah,” Chan says, happy to be on a lighter topic, happy that Felix is no longer stewing in a world of self-pity. “It was my freshman year, right after finals, and I drank so much I was throwing up I swear for an hour straight. And the worst part is, it started in my friend Minho’s room, and his floor was carpeted.”

“Oh, fuck,” Felix laughs. The sound warms Chan.

“Yeah, so don’t feel bad. The cleanup yesterday was really easy,” Chan says. “Your hardwoods have a good sealant on them, don’t worry. Back then, we had to call in the poor cleaning staff, and they kicked my friends out of their room so they could shampoo it…”

* * *

“I’m gonna get lunch,” Felix says, emerging from the pool and wrapping a towel around his shoulders. “You know where to find me.”

Chan nods wordlessly, peeking up at him as he leaves before getting back to work. 

The break is coming to a close. Felix leaves first out of his siblings, going back in just a few days now. Though neither of them say it, Chan can tell they’re both making a more concerted effort to see each other as often as possible. It’s easy in some ways. Since the holidays are over, Mr. and Mrs. Lee spend most of their days out of the house, coming back late. And though all the staff members are back, which makes dodging them hard, at least Chan doesn’t have any extra work to hold him back.

So Chan finishes his work, grabs a quick lunch, and then heads upstairs. Felix is exactly where Chan expected him, curled up at his desk, busy gaming, cute round glasses on and a green Melona popsicle between his lips. 

Felix sees him when he comes in and scrambles to pause his game, pulling off his headphones and grabbing the popsicle out of his mouth. “Hi,” he says, almost breathless. His lips are bright red and glossy from the popsicle. 

“Hi,” Chan replies. He takes his time with the lock, strolling slowly over to Felix and running a hand through his hair. The roots are really starting to grow in, deep, inky black against faded pink. A measure of how long Chan has known him. “Still in your swimsuit,” he says.

“Thought maybe we could shower together,” Felix replies. He holds Chan’s gaze and licks a stripe up his popsicle. 

“Mm, good idea,” Chan agrees, bending over him and finally kissing him. Felix moans softly, his free hand coming up to grip one of Chan’s biceps, tiny fingers pressing into the muscle. His lips are cold and he tastes sweet. Chan licks over his bottom lip, then pushes in past his teeth. He’s sweet everywhere, popsicle coating his tongue.

Felix’s eyes are glazed with pleasure when they break apart. His popsicle is melting in his hand, but he seems unaware of it. Chan grins at him, bending to the side and catches a drop with his tongue. “I’m gonna eat this if you don’t,” he says. Felix just hums, holding it out to him, so Chan does the only logical thing, which is to take the whole thing in his mouth and then pull back off real slow, keeping his cheeks hollowed and his eyes on Felix. 

“You’re just as bad as I am,” Felix says with a dreamy giggle as Chan licks his lips.

“Wasn’t like this before I met you,” Chan says, which is mostly true. He kisses Felix again, pinning him to the chair. “We gonna shower?”

“Mm, yeah,” Felix says, but he keeps kissing Chan, alternating between that and taking licks of his popsicle. Chan knows he’s not helping; he reaches down between Felix’s legs and cups his cock in his palm, groping him through the thin fabric of his tiny swim bottoms. Felix lets out another moan, bucking up into Chan’s hand.

“Should really get in the shower, then,” Chan hums, but he keeps going, running his fingers up and down the length of Felix’s cock until he’s hard. Precome leaks a wet patch into the swim bottoms, the stain spreading as the minutes drip by. Felix swirls what’s left of his popsicle in his mouth, movements slow and lazy, moans muffled. “Should get going before you make a mess in your bikini,” Chan continues. 

“Mm, Chan,” Felix sighs, so pretty. “S-stop touching me, then.”

Chan hums like he’s considering it. “Do you want me to stop touching you?” he asks.

“N-no,” Felix stutters. He pulls the popsicle stick out, clean. “Kiss me.”

Chan obliges, bracing himself with a hand on the headrest of Felix’s chair. Felix pushes his cold tongue into Chan’s mouth, whimpering in the back of his throat as he runs it over Chan’s teeth. It’s messy, but Chan doesn’t care. He’ll happily lick any taste off the surface of Felix’s tongue.

They keep kissing until Felix comes, sticky white soaking through his swim bottoms and getting all over Chan’s hand, moans muffled in Chan’s mouth, popsicle stick dropped and forgotten on the floor. Felix goes limp against the chair when Chan pulls away, sighing softly. “Ohh, I felt that in my toes,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. 

Chan grins, kissing him on the tip of the nose, then reaches around with his clean hand to grab lube and a condom out of the desk drawer. “Okay, definitely shower now,” he says. 

“I can’t move,” Felix complains. “My legs won’t go.”

“You’re such a piece of work,” Chan mutters fondly, readjusting his grip on the lube and then simply scooping Felix out of the chair and carrying him to the bathroom. Felix squeaks in delight, giggling softly as Chan lowers him gently onto the edge of the tub. 

“You’re seriously so strong, Chan,” he says, watching as Chan pokes his head into the shower to start the water. “I bet you could squat me.”

“I could definitely squat you,” Chan agrees. “I could squat two of you.”

“We have a gym,” Felix says, now sounding a little dreamy. “You could probably even bench me.”

“Probably,” Chan says, setting the lube and condom down on the counter and giving him a look. “But I think if someone catches us in the gym together, they’re really gonna start asking questions.”

“Oh, but naked in my bathroom is okay?” Felix asks pointedly as Chan shucks his tank up and over his head. 

“The point of your rooms is people won’t just walk in,” Chan replies. “‘Cause you might be naked. Speaking of which, get moving.”

“Point taken,” Felix chirps, untying the strings of his bikini top and letting it fall to the floor, then stepping out of his soiled bottoms and hooking them over a finger. “Hurry up.” He steps into the shower and disappears behind the steam.

Chan shakes his head, carefully folding his underwear and laying it on top of the stack of the rest of his clothes on the counter. He picks up the lube and condom and heads into the shower.

Felix is waiting under the water, scrubbing at his swim bottoms. “One sec,” he says softly, glancing up when Chan brings in a whoosh of cold air. 

The shelves are out of the way of the spray, so Chan puts the lube and condom on the highest one, holding his hand out for Felix’s swim bottoms so he can hang them on one of the little hooks on the wall when he’s done. 

“Thanks,” Felix says, a genuine, proper show of gratitude. Chan hides his smile, reaching for the shampoo.

“Turn around,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

Felix obeys, and Chan squeezes a dollop of shampoo out onto his palm, capping the bottle with a click and putting it back before rubbing his hands together. He spreads the shampoo on Felix’s wet hair, pressing the pads of his fingertips into Felix’s scalp in a gentle massage, running his fingers through the strands to make sure the soap gets everywhere. 

“Your hair’s so smooth,” Chan finds himself saying. “Even though you’ve dyed it. It’s so soft.”

Chan can hear Felix’s smile even though he can’t see it. “Thanks.” Felix leans into his touch. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” Chan asks, slowing his movements, working his fingers in circles. Felix moans lowly, and Chan’s pretty sure it’s not even sexual. “Good?”

“Yes, daddy,” Felix breathes, and—okay, maybe a little sexual. But he does kind of look like he’s melting a little bit, relaxing under Chan’s hands. 

He remains pliant as Chan washes his hair out for him, and patient when Chan works on his own hair. But the instant the soap is gone, his hands are on Chan’s body, pressing little kisses to his chest and arms. 

“Ready for round two?’” Chan asks needlessly. “Want daddy to fuck you now?”

“Mm-hm,” Felix agrees.

Chan puts the water on super hot and then points the faucet away from them so they don’t drown, but they stay warm. “Up against the wall, then,” he says, nodding to it. Felix goes immediately, pressing himself up against the tile and sticking his cute little ass out. “Jesus, baby,” Chan says before he can stop himself. “You look like a dream.” Felix just smirks at him over his shoulder.

Chan finds the lube, drizzling a little over his fingers as he walks up behind Felix. He kisses his shoulder blade, staying close as he feels around for his entrance and pushes a finger in. Felix moans softly, the sound echoing against the walls. “God, I always forget how big your fingers are,” he says. “Can’t ever make myself feel the way you do.”

“Good thing I’m here, then,” Chan says, pushing in past his middle knuckle and waiting for Felix to relax around him.

“Yeah, but—mm—you won’t be soon,” Felix says. “I mean, I won’t be. I’m gonna fuck my way through all the jocks trying to find someone who can do what you can.”

Chan tamps down the jealousy that flares in his chest. Felix isn’t his. He can fuck whoever he wants. “Good luck with that,” he says. “You’d have better time with artists. They actually have fine motor skills.”

“Mm, that’s a good point,” Felix huffs. “Hyunjin’s always been good with his hands.”

Chan decides he’s not going to ask exactly what Felix means by that. “Besides, I bet most of the athletes’ll only last a couple minutes.”

“I dunno,” Felix says, mischief rich in his voice. “Changbin has great stamina, and my other friend Seungmin is a baseball player, and he does too.”

“You trying to make me jealous?” Chan asks. “Or do you just fuck all your friends?”

“You’re not my friend,” Felix points out. “And I’m fucking you.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that,” Chan says, exhaling laughter.

“You should come visit me,” Felix says. “During a long weekend or something.”

“Your parents are gonna ask questions,” Chan says.

“You’re from here,” Felix argues. “You could just say you’re visiting an old friend.” 

“That’s true,” Chan acquiesces, retaliating by adding a second finger. Felix’s jaw drops open and satisfaction boils hot in Chan’s stomach. “Maybe I will.”

“You better,” Felix says, somehow still sounding all sharp and demanding despite the strain in his voice. “I don’t wanna wait until Easter to fuck you again.”

Chan can agree with that, at the very least. “That’s true, it’s a while to wait. And calling isn’t the same.”

“Mm-mm,” Felix agrees. “Not unless I commission a replica of your hands. Or your cock.”

“I don’t think even that would be enough for you,” Chan says, and Felix giggles.

“Probably not,” he admits. “Can’t help it. I just want you.”

Chan fits a third finger in, pumping them viciously even though it’s tight just so he can watch Felix squirm. “Yeah? Like the way I fuck you?”

“Better than anybody else,” Felix says, and if Chan wasn’t certain he says that to everyone he fucks, he’d probably do something embarrassing. As it is, his dick twitches anyway. He pets over Felix’s prostate, so familiar now with his body that he doesn’t even have to search around for it. Felix shudders, muscles in his back tensing up. “Yeah, right there.”

“Here?” Chan massages over it meanly, pressing kisses to Felix’s spine and listening to him whine.

“Too much, Chan, gonna come again,” he protests, trying and failing to escape the sensation by shifting his hips. “Wanna come on your cock.”

That gets Chan to relent. “Fine,” he says softly. “Almost there.”

He finishes opening Felix up quickly, then pulls his fingers out and runs them under the scalding water for just a second to get them clean enough to open the condom packet without slipping. He rolls it on, adding another pump of lube for good measure, and then positions himself behind Felix.

“Put it in,” Felix demands the instant he hesitates. “I’m ready. And if I’m not, and I bleed, we can wash it all away.”

Chan doesn’t need him to say it again. He pushes past his puckered entrance and slides into the sweet warmth. Felix is tight around him like a vice, and Chan only gets halfway before he has to stop. “Shit,” he murmurs. “A little too impatient.”

“Keep going,” Felix insists. “I can take it.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Chan says, but he does try to push in a little more, anyway. It works, sort of, and slowly, he manages to sink in the rest of the way. Both of them let out deep sighs when he finally bottoms out, pressed close to Felix’s body, so close he’s got Felix’s trapped against the wall.

“Fu-u-uck,” Felix moans. “I’m gonna explode. You feel so big, Chan. I think I can feel you in my tummy, against the wall. Feel like ‘m getting split open.”

Chan isn’t sure about that, but the idea makes him grit out a moan nonetheless. “Guess I should spend less time on prep more often,” he manages. “So tight, baby. Feel nice ’n’ full?”

“God, yeah,” Felix breathes. “Fuck, it’s like I can feel you everywhere.” His fingers catch on the grout between the tiles but slip down the wall all the same. 

“Give you a second before I move,” Chan mumbles. “Don’t wanna do some real damage.”

“Mm, kinda want you to,” Felix whimpers. “Ruin my body, daddy, I want it.”

“Fuck, babygirl,” Chan groans. “Want me to make it hurt?”

“Yes.” The word is a breath sucked in between bared teeth. “Please.”

Chan draws his hips back excruciatingly slow, letting Felix whimper for him for a second before pushing back in, fast and hard. The force of it punches a weak moan out of Felix’s chest. “Like that?” Chan pants, doing it again, legs shaking from the exertion and the delicious drag of his cock against Felix’s walls. “Fuck, you’re so tight, feels so good.”

Felix only sobs out a moan, the sound garbled by the echoes it makes and his slack jaw. Chan spreads a hand between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the wall and using his other hand to grip his hip so he has nowhere to go. Felix slumps against the tile, pink tongue just visible over his bottom teeth, eyes drooping shut. Chan hears himself grunt, something low in the chest, gravelly, reverberating around them. He slams his hips forward with every stroke, rough and mean like Felix begged for. Every movement sends spikes of arousal dancing under Chan’s skin, almost painful with how good it feels. Felix’s body loosens around him, but even then there’s hardly enough room, and Chan’s pretty sure that if he’d used even one less drop of lube that this wouldn’t be working. 

But it’s what Felix asked for, and as Chan looks at him, he knows he couldn’t stop. Felix’s face is twisted into a beautiful expression of bliss, eyebrows pinched and mouth open in a silent scream. His fingers rest gently against the wall, hardly supporting him. Chan can’t see, but he knows his cock is hard and leaking against his stomach, an angry red.

Chan can feel sweat beading on his forehead, partially from the steam, but he can’t reach the faucet dial now. They’re surrounded by a fine mist, and it kind of makes Chan a little dizzy. But he keeps going, fucking Felix ruthlessly, pounding him into the wall with soft groans as his abdomen tightens and tightens.

And then Felix is moaning, a low string of total incoherence, and he curls over himself, convulsing weakly, head disappearing between his shoulders and hands scrabbling at the tile above them. “Daddy, daddy, yes,” Chan thinks he hears him babble as he begins to still.

“Can you last a little longer, babygirl?” Chan asks, his voice rough.

“Yes,” comes Felix’s voice, his head still out of sight. “But daddy, hurts.”

His voice is wobbly, small and pitiful, and Chan knows the face he’s making. He’s sure he’s crying, cute little nose all red and cheeks splotchy. “So good for me, so patient,” Chan soothes breathlessly. He thrusts, shallow, a few more times as the hot pleasure takes over his body at last, making his legs shake. He comes deep inside Felix, hips pressed to his ass, head tipped back and hands with a punishing grip on his waist.

They catch their breath. Chan can hardly hear anything over the soft roar of the water. After a moment, he pulls out, almost stumbling backwards to turn the temperature back to something a little more bearable, rolling the condom off with unsteady hands before going back to check on Felix.

Felix is still bent over at the waist, leaning on the wall for support, forearm braced against the tile and face hidden in the crook of his elbow. Chan looks closer and sees pinkish-red at his entrance. Blood and lube.

“Oh, shit, oh fuck, Felix, I’m so sorry,” Chan stutters, setting the condom gingerly on one of the shelves and hurrying to him. He pets down his back, wondering how painful it would be if he tried to wash him clean. “Didn’t mean to actually hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Felix looks up, dazed. “What are you talking about?” he mumbles.

“You—you’re bleeding,” Chan says helplessly with a vague gesture. 

Felix just smiles, lazy and undisturbed. “I said I wanted it,” he says, tone serene and level. He peels himself off the wall, straightening as he goes, turning and wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders. “Mm, it felt good. So good, Chan, I haven’t come that hard in so long. Don’t be sorry. I don’t mind a little blood.”

“Jesus,” Chan says weakly, catching him and holding him close. “I still feel bad. Let me take care of it, okay? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Chan cleans him out tenderly, pressing apologetic kisses to his low back and the swell of his asscheeks. Felix makes little hurt noises, but there’s just as much pleasure in his voice as there is pain, so Chan keeps going until the water runs clear. If Felix liked it—then Chan has to admit it’s a little hot. Still, a sort of prickling guilt settles under his skin. His memory of those moments feels almost blurry. He isn’t quite sure what came over him—just that Felix asked, and Chan, like always, said yes. 

At last, they turn off the water. Chan collects their mess, tossing the used condom and its wrapper in the trash and setting the lube on the counter. He dries both him and Felix off, then pulls on his underwear from before while Felix goes out into his room to find himself something to wear. Chan follows slowly, placing his clothes on Felix’s desk before joining him in bed.

Felix curls into his side, pressing sweet, openmouthed kisses to his chest. “Chan,” he says, soft and dreamy. “Thank you.”

“For nearly sending you to the ER?” Chan asks wearily. 

Felix giggles. “I liked it,” he says. “Felt so good. And you always treat me so nice after.”

Chan kisses the top of his head. “Of course I do,” he murmurs. “Least I can do after taking you apart is to put you back together.”

Felix giggles again, and they lapse into silence. Chan listens to Felix breathe–deep, measured, sated. He glances out the window, stroking Felix’s back absently. The sun is bright on the gardens below, a perfect day, almost unreal.

Finally, Felix speaks. “Chan?” There’s something strange in his voice, quivering and vulnerable. Chan blinks, suddenly curious and afraid all at once.

“Yeah?” he replies.

“Do you—?” Felix cuts himself off, his voice wavering still. He’s silent for a few long moments while Chan waits, scarcely breathing. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He can feel Felix’s against his chest.

“What?” he asks, after a minute has passed and Felix still hasn’t said anything.

He can feel Felix deflate, and the tension is gone. When he speaks, his voice is slow and sleepy again. “Do you think you really can come visit me at school?”

Chan lets out a breath. Whatever Felix wanted to say, this isn’t it. But he won’t push. He knows that won’t get him anywhere. “Yeah,” he says softly, brushing some of Felix’s hair back before it falls into his eyes. He looks down at him, this terrible, beautiful boy. He’s not a monster, Chan thinks. He’s not even really spoiled, or at least that’s not why he acts the way he does. He’s just lonely. Maya’s voice plays in his head. He’s just really sad. And Chan still doesn’t know why. But he does know that whether Felix ever tells him or not, he’ll be here. “Of course, I’ll come visit,” he says. “Just say the word. I’ll come.”

Felix makes a happy noise, snuggling closer. Chan tightens his hold on him, feeling his pretty, lithe body under his arms. 

His life, he knows, will be in three parts, now and forever. Before I met you, he thinks. When I had you. And after you leave. How cruel, he thinks, that the most difficult part of the three will also be the longest.

[cathartictrash]

For @rubyeyebabybat!

A gift to @rubyeyebabybat as part of @bg3-apprecimaytion! This scene between her OC, Mahina, and Astarion came to mind when I saw the “borrowed clothing” prompt. I decided to skip around with the prompts, which I hope is okay! Please check out her wonderful fic!

You can read my fic below the cut or here:

Mahina curses as her bare foot slips on the smooth stones of the creek bed, a single misstep bending her ankle unnaturally beneath her weight. She reaches out an arm to help cushion her fall, but only manages to painfully jam her wrist. She cries out in spite of herself as she falls flat on her back into the shallow water.

Mahina squints up at the slowly approaching dawn, her head throbbing along with the rest of her body. Her now soaked white underclothes cling to her body as the remainder of her laundry floats downstream. So much for an early, productive start.

“Need a hand, darling?” a familiar voice croons from a distance.

Of course he’s here. “Fuck off, Astarion,” she groans, trying unsuccessfully to stand up. Mahina barely makes it to a seated position, and notices Astarion gathering her clothing downstream. “I got it.”

“I quite doubt that,” he tuts, wringing the water out of her favorite tunic.

Mahina once again tries to stand, but her ankle refuses to bear any weight. She crawls with as much dignity as she can muster to the shore, where Astarion drops the rescued garments in front of her. She glares up at him, expecting an arrogant smirk, a mocking eyebrow, but is greeted instead with a lightly averted gaze.

“You can see right through my clothing, can’t you?” she huffs. Astarion keeps looking up at the sky, though a smile tugs at his cheek.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Such a gentleman.” Mahina once again tries to pull herself up, but nearly falls again with the effort.

“Tsk, tsk… you know, it pains me to see you in such a state, so far from camp. Helpless as a drowned kitten.”

Mahina’s adrenaline spikes for a moment, but surely the rogue would have harmed her already were that his intention. She does wish she had her daggers on her, though, at least to threaten him.

“What were you doing out here, anyway? Stalking me?” She resents the tremor in her voice, her body freezing and ankle pulsing with sharp pain.

Astarion heaves a sigh and offers a hand. “Don’t flatter yourself. Now, get up,” he commands. Mahina tries once again to get up on her own, fails, and resentfully takes the pale elf’s hand. It is impossibly cold, even contrasted to her own chilled fingers.

“Fucking fuck!” she curses, using his shoulder to steady herself only momentarily. “I think my ankle is broken.” She notes how Astarion still attempts to keep his gaze averted, though they stand so close to one another. “Don’t happen to have a potion on you?”

“Alas, no,” he says. “I fear I’ll have to carry you back.”

“Ha! Not a chance,” Mahina laughs. “I would rather hop.” She rather pathetically begins to do so.

“Nearly a mile through forest crawling with predators? Half-naked and weaponless? I think not.”

She makes it to a tree, her breath rapid puffs of steam. “Go get a potion from camp, then, and bring it back to me,” she bites.

“I am not walking all that way for the sake of your damn pride!” he spits, finally looking her in the eye as he walks over. “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me, but let’s be sensible. You need more than a potion for that broken ankle and our companions would have my head if I left you out here to catch your death.”

“Good! Let them have it!” she replies, though she doesn’t have the energy to lace in any real venom. “Maybe that will shut you up for good.”

Astarion is quiet for a moment, studying her, his gaze inadvertently flickering down. Something hot boils in Mahina’s belly, but he quickly looks back up.

“Gods! You’re so - “ Suddenly, he pulls off his ruffled shirt, and tosses it to Mahina. “Just - just put this on, won’t you? I don’t want you getting me all wet.”

Mahina narrows her eyes at him, but dry clothing would be helpful. She’s fucking cold. “Turn around and stay turned.”

Astarion scoffs, but obliges. Mahina, with no small amount of pain in her wrist, which she believes to be at least badly sprained, removes her sodden shirt and tosses it on the pile of her wet laundry. She puts on Astarion’s eccentric clothes and is surprised by how old they seem to be, faintly discolored and nearly threadbare in places. Does he really expect everyone to believe he is a magistrate?

Once clothed, Mahina looks up and freezes in horror, breath momentarily stolen from her lungs. Astarion’s back is absolutely ravaged with scars, deep and puckered and… carved. Deliberate. They span the entirety of his lithe but muscled frame, circles and lines like runes and hellfire.

“Are you quite finished?” he huffs, impatient. “Am I safe to turn around?” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hands on his hips, the foppish stance incongruous to the hellish sight in front of her.

Then, Astarion muscles tighten with realization. He already knows that she knows he is lying. But, scars tell stories and this is clearly quite a tale. Mahina wants to call him on it, probably would confront him, demand answers, in any other circumstance, but -

“Yes, you’re safe,” she replies. Astarion quickly turns around, but he still does not look at her, even though she is clothed. The tense silence threatens to lengthen before Astarion inhales, frustrated.

“Now are you going to be cooperative, or am I going to have to knock you out and carry you unconscious back to Shadowheart?” There is something feral, trapped, and desperate in his eyes.

“You are not carrying me. But - perhaps you could help me walk back,” she replies, more softly than she expects. Astarion’s shoulders lower somewhat, before he rolls his eyes and concedes.

“Fine. Have it your way.” He offers an arm, and Mahina allows it to lace behind her back, before she puts hers over his shoulder. She instinctively takes care not to touch his scars. “Shall we?”

Mahina gives a quick nod and they make their staggering way back toward camp. It is slow-going, and about a third of the way there, after Mahina stumbles over yet another blasted root, she grumbles, “Just carry me already.”

“What was that, darling?” Astarion asks all too innocently.

“You heard me, darling. Just fucking carry me!”

“Why, it would be my pleasure,” he smiles. Without warning, he scoops her into his arms like a bride.

“I was thinking piggyback? It might be easier - “

“No!” he harshly interrupts, before catching himself. His jaw flickers beneath his skin. “No. This is fine.”

Astarion is stronger than he looks, but days without food have clearly weakened him, so that he is out of breath by the time they see camp. If only this idiot would eat something.

Mahina reluctantly rests her head against his shoulder. Why is she suddenly so tired?

“You’ll need to tell us, you know,” Mahina murmurs, “Sooner or later.” The silence somehow deepens, though Mahina feels Astarion’s breathing hasten.

She wishes she could see his face better, but all she wants to do is sleep. Finally reaching camp, Astarion deposits her on her bedroll near the fire, and when he makes to stand back up, Mahina grabs his hand.

Astarion visibly flinches and pulls it away like he has been burned, but pauses, stiffens, his red eyes flickering up for just a moment to meet hers.

“I know,” he whispers.

Mahina tries to think of what else to say, but he quickly turns away. Putting a hand to his mouth, walking swiftly toward his tent, Astarion calls out in an entirely different voice, “Shadowheart, darling! Special delivery!”

The elf disappears into his tent, not to be seen for the rest of the day.