#please keep sending me asks! i have so much to say!

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Love 101

my week-late valentine's post

summary: third years ask first years for love advice. the first years suck at giving it type of post: blurbs characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia, lilia, malleus, rollo additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

I. Cater and Deuce

Cater has always loved the thrill of the chase (or, really, the thrill of stalking your magicam at 2am) and he would have been content with keeping his digital distance if he didn't see you in Vil's last post. Suddenly anxious that he's fumbling, he does what he does best: info. And who would have better info than your best friend? "Uhhh, I dunno," Deuce says. "If you really like someone, then you should be honest with them- that's what my mom used to tell me, at least. Or did I read that somewhere? Uh, never mind. I'm sure the Prefect will understand! Just- you better treat them right, or else!" Be honest? When has honesty ever helped Cater? It'd take two more nights of crushing anxiety for him to send a risky text, spilling all of his feelings for you in a Magicam DM and then handing his phone over to a very confused (but pleased?) Riddle, so he won't check his notifs for your username every twelve seconds...

II. Trey and Ace

Trust me, he was not Trey's go-to. Okay, sure, Ace is your best friend. Sure, he knows everything about you, from your favorite desserts to your grades, and sure, you've probably told him everything about your dream man, but... It's Ace. And unlike darling, doe-eyed Deuce, if someone asked too much about you, Ace would get suspicious and go right into protective best friend mode. So, Trey keeps it vague. "Eh? You're asking me for dating advice?" Ace grins. "About time! I knew you were smart. What you're gonna do is give 'em a little, not too much. Maybe ghost 'em for a week or two, so they'll really miss you when you finally text back!" ...Yeah. Maybe Trey should just stick to desserts.

III. Leona and Jack

Listen, okay, Leona didn't want to ask him, either. But Ruggie had nothing, your other frosh friends couldn't flirt their way out of a paper bag, and Grim refused to give Leona the goods without tuna payments (and he's spoiled enough as it is). Of course, the moment Leona even implied he was thinking of you, Jack jumped. "You have to be direct and honest! This could be your life partner, you have to put your all in!" Right, sure. Why does he even bother with these kids?? You'd be turned off if Leona started spilling his guts like that. He would've given up then and there... but then Jack insisted he come to "support his upperclassman", as if it were a fight rather than a flirtation. Leona cursed the Seven, the stars, and every single student on campus as he stumbled his way through asking you out. "Not that you would, or that I care, but I-" he looks over his shoulder, and Jack is still there, arms crossed like an impatient parent. Leona grumbles. "If you want to..." "He wants to please you, Prefect!" Jack barks. "DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT!"

IV. Vil, Rook, and Epel

It wasn't like Vil sought out Epel for the sole purpose of you, the freshman simply... happened to be in the room while Vil was thinking about it! Out loud! With Rook! In a... slightly argumentative manner! "Epel, settle something for us, would you?" "Oui, you see, I say the way to win the Prefect's favor is by anticipating their every thought!" "And I say that's insane. You know them best, so, tell us, what do they like?" The poor boy looks between them like he's being held at gunpoint. How should he have known?? It's not like you guys spent your time gabbing about boys! "APPLES!" he blurts out. "The Prefect loves apples!! My grandma always said the quickest way to a person's heart is through their stomach!" Rook giggles and Vil mumbles something about Epel's peanut-sized brain. ...Nonetheless, you wake up to crates full of apples at your door the next morning.

V. Idia and Ortho

beeeeeep... beeep... bing! Idia swivels around in his chair at the sound of the printer. Crap, did he accidentally hit print page again? What a waste of ink- that stuff's not cheap, you know! But it's just... Ortho. "Here ya go, big bro! I thought you might need this!" Idia cautiously takes the warm paper, entitled Romance Intel 101. "Uh... Ortho. Why are you giving me this? You know I max out the romance stats in all my games EZ," Ortho giggles. "It's not for a game, it's for the Prefect! Based on the data I've gathered, your heart rate accelerates by 1.2 seconds, and your pupils dilate by 40% when thinking of, or speaking to the Prefect!" Idia turns pink and crumples, as if he were the paper (the first line of which, BTW, reading "step one- make eye contact!") This is going to be a looooong school year...

VI. Lilia and Grim

You probably should've been suspicious when Lilia popped into Ramshackle and offered to babysit Grim for an afternoon, but you weren't- not with assignments due, at least. You said your goodbyes, and as soon as you were out the splintered door, Lilia spun on his heels. Short as he is, he towers over the little direbeast. "Hm, seems like we have time to spare. How about a casual conversation? Yes? Good! So, how do the youngsters these days go about showing their affections? I would like to make my feelings for a certain someone known, but I'm terribly out of practice." Grim thinks for a moment, and then: "Tuna. Looots of tuna. Heaps of it! It's all the rage!" Lilia nods sagely. "Ah, yes, I understand completely. There was a rotisserie chicken fad a few centuries ago... er, so I've read. Isn't love wonderful!" You come home from the library to an unconscious, drooling, but very happy Grim, and Lilia sitting atop a mountain of empty tuna cans and beaming. "Darling! You're back!"

VII. Malleus and Sebek

It had always been Sebek's honor and duty to serve the heir prince of Briar Valley, whether in war or in love. When Malleus wistfully said he wished to know you better, Sebek saw to it. That is, he spent the entire weekend shadowing you. And not subtly- he was never more than a few steps behind, pen and paper in hand. When you asked what in the world he was doing, he- "OBSERVING! NOW, QUIET! BEHAVE AS USUAL!" "You don't have to shout, you're right behind me. And observing what, Sebek?" "NONE OF YOUR CONCERN! ACT AS IF I AM NOT HERE!" At the end of the weekend, Sebek returned to Malleus' throne with a report that titled you "inquisitive, dense, and apparently hard-of-hearing."

VIII. Rollo and You

Your friends had seemed wary when Rollo asked you on a walk with him, though he promised he wouldn't take you too far from their clutches care. You had been in Fleur City for days and he didn't know a single thing about you, other than that you were magicless and pitiful. You were so often spoken over, interrupted, and dismissed, it took Rollo a strenuous amount of grace not to grab you by the wrist and drag you away from your rude, contemptuous classmates himself... He couldn't word the feeling. And he was hoping you could. "So," he says, "They refer to you as Prefect. That is your role? Do you enjoy it?" You shrug. Has being at that terrible school rendered you unfit for social interaction? "Very well. Then what do you do for... fun? You appeared to enjoy seeing the city. Are you interested in history?" You shrug again. How can he be expected to know you if you won't tell him anything?? Rollo decides that words are worthless, and his eyes land on your hands. His own fingers twitch and tingle in anticipation, and for a brief but terrifying moment, he thinks of reaching out to you. ...In the end, he can't will himself to do it. Maybe in another life.

[stranger-eelio]

mlvns arguments are always so weak lmao

anyway, byler's version ❤️

s1: Mike literally helps save Will's life. He never gives up on him, as soon as he heard his voice on the radio, he knew it was him, and he literally saw his "body" be pull out of the water.

s2: Mike stood by Will during a literal interdimensional possesion. He was the only one of his friends to notice something was off ("he's quiet today") He again helps save his life, "it was the best thing I've ever done" 💕

s3: things get tricky, Mike's being a little shit lmao he's dealing with stuff. They fight, he hurts Will's feelings. Then proceeds to bike all across town on the pouring rain to apologize. He doesn't go after El after they break up, we just see him complaining (and burping lmao)

s4: he's being weird, not hugging Will etc. They fight at Rink o Mania, then later Mike apologizes to Will, tells him Hawkins, his HOME, it's not the same without him. And at the end, he reassures Will, saying that they'll kill Vecna.

as for mlvn:

s1: he takes her in, teaches her stuff. It's actually very sweet, up until they kiss in my opinion lmao girl had literally just learned what pudding was

s2: He calls her everyday sure, but doesn't move a muscle to try to find her.

s3: He tried to protect her, I guess? But so did Max. And Max actually did a way better job at helping her emotionally, about findinh out what she likes for herself etc

s4: "what have you done?" "she doesn't look fine" "you're being ridiculous" etc. he loves her for who she is???? he doesn't say anything about who she really is, he only talks about her powers. "you're my superhero" "you can fly, you can move mountains" ok lmao. they then proceed to not talk for the rest of the episode

“girl had literally just learned what pudding was” SO TRUE BABES

so now that we have the complete argument [except that the mileven did not provide an anti-byler argument, only a pro-milkvan one but whatever] when you hear will say ‘el needs you, mike. and she always will’ in the van, who do you think will is really talking about? and most importantly, who do the duffers want you to think he’s talking about? who have the duffers shown to actually need mike? to have always needed mike?

el fights her own battles. she doesn’t need mike. will does.

[bucketbueckers]

STICK AROUND

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, fluff, slight injury

wc: 2.3k

synopsis: After an arduous year full of ACL recovery, navigating your new yet inexplicably familiar relationship, and falling back in love with Paige Bueckers (not that you ever fell out of love in the first place), Paige is finally cleared and ready to play basketball again for her senior season.

notes: yes this is the same banner. no comments at this time please! this is part 2 to come around, requested by a few anons (sorry i may have deviated from the request a lil bit) & @janaelalfysloml 🫶 i was not expecting the reception CA got - and also!! 1k notes? wtf???? that's actually insane to me, i get on here to yap and procrastinate my homework, i am so blown away by the love and how many of you guys actually like what i write 😭 i love y'all bad! so here is part 2 in honor of CA surpassing 1k notes and my anons and if you're curious - yes flattery gets you everywhere and this is definitely an open invite to keep sending asks. not proofread! i hope you all enjoy this 🫶

tags: @unadulteratedcyclepaper @avvwritesstufff @surferandskater5 @jnkbueckers

The months between August 2022 and November 2023 were full of ups and downs. This is not to say you were miserable – far from it, in fact. Transferring to UConn from UMN was the best decision you’d ever made in your entire life. You’d made more friends, your grades started improving, and you’d truly felt at home in Connecticut, making a name for yourself in some of their student organizations. It would, however, be wrong to neglect the other, considerably important factor in why your life was turning around for the better.

You and Paige were in a much better place – romantically, platonically, in every facet of being each other’s person. Your communication was a lot better. You learned to be a little more direct, to enunciate exactly how you were feeling. Paige learned patience, which is honestly a miracle in and of itself; she learned that it’s not her sole responsibility to try to protect you from outside noise or make whatever decision is best for you. The both of you had good intentions, but sometimes it’s really easy for those good intentions to get swept up in chaos and unravel before you. The both of you had to remember that you’re not just girlfriends, but you’re partners, too – you’re a team.

The year’s ups and downs weren’t on the two of you. You and Paige had “learning curve” moments as you’d called it, having to sit down and have uncomfortable, vulnerable conversations that left you feeling raw on the inside, but healthier in spite of it. Instead of being on the same page, it was as though you and Paige were the weaving lines and sloping letters, beginning on opposite sides yet meeting in the middle to form words, sentences, stories. You weren’t just there. You were together in a completely new sense, working side-by-side with the sort of ease that comes with fully knowing a person inside and out.

The troubles of the year stemmed more from her knee. Her recovery wasn’t linear. Some days were harder than others and some days were downright hell on earth. It was hardly comparable to the time her high school championship was cancelled due to covid – it was worse. The pain would leave her shuddering in bed, hiccuping through tears and there was only so much you could do. You’d spend countless hours at her side, alternating between the heating pad and the ice pack, helping her swallow her painkillers with water when it got too bad, brushing your fingers through her hair and rambling about everything and nothing to distract her. Once she’d made it out of the post-surgery, pain and soreness phase, her days were full of physical therapy and mental battles that tested the both of you. Some days you didn’t know what to say. Sometimes you wouldn’t say anything at all, letting her cry into your shoulder as you held her. Other days you let her talk for hours on end, entrusting you with the uncomfortable parts of her and the whispered confessions of, “I don’t know how I can trust my body after this.” 

Time was what she needed to heal. The both of you knew that. So, you stuck around, knowing that even if Paige was a mess, injured, struggling mentally and physically, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but with her. As the days turn into weeks and the weeks melt into months, she gets better. You knew she would. Watching that light return to her eyes, getting to see that spring in her step, hearing the way her laughter carried across the room was healing for you, too.

As she healed, you studied. You would spend the majority of your time in bed next to her with your textbook sprawled over your lap, her fingers tracing your skin and her chin hooked over your shoulder as she watched you do homework assignments. Your majors couldn’t have been further apart from each other, so admittedly, your time together was spent with Paige asking, “What the fuck is an electrophile?” and you responding with an endeared fondness, “Electro- means negative, -phile means love, so it’s a chemical species that accepts electrons,” followed by Paige huffing and declaring, “Yeah, you got that – you can be the breadwinner and I’ll be your sexy trophy wife.”

Whether she knew it or not, Paige helped you out a lot with your assignments. She kept your head on straight when your assignments got a little overwhelming and forced you to take a break when you were getting grouchy – “It’s what you did for me,” she would remind you, pressing soothing kisses to your cheeks, and murmuring, “You wanna DoorDash take-out?” (and who were you to say no to that?)

So as time passed, Paige recovered, the both of you healed, and by the time November 2023 rolled around, Paige was fully cleared to play basketball again. She’d been ecstatic for the weeks leading up to it, talking your ear off and dragging you to the gym with her even though the two of you fooled around more than she got her shots in. Her happiness was infectious – that was what mattered to you. You knew that she worked hard to get into UConn but you also knew she worked even harder to recover from the kind of injury that tests the resilience of many athletes.

The night before their home opener against Dayton, she revives an age-old tradition that you’d spent years missing. She takes you to Dairy Queen, shooting you an exasperated look over the center console as you teasingly pressed your card into her hand. She pays – she always does – driving off with her ice cream in the cupholder as she focuses on the road and you offer her spoonfuls of the same flavor you’d been ordering since you were both seventeen. Paige serenades you at the red lights, holding your hands and belting out off-key renditions of Keyshia Cole – because that hadn’t changed over the years, either. And when she finally pulls into a secluded parking lot, nothing but the moon and the crickets as your only witness, the two of you joke and ramble and flirt for what only feels minutes but are actually hours.

She still reserves that last bite of ice cream for you, guiding her spoon to your mouth and kissing the remnants off of your lips, relishing in the way your laughter reverberates throughout her Jeep. Paige tastes like vanilla ice cream and happiness, a lingering flavor that’s intoxicating when it mixes with your strawberry and the love for Paige that you’ve kept safe in your beating heart for years. Some things truly never change at all, you think when she rests her warm palm over your thigh as she adjusts her music (and the playlist she has fittingly titled ‘Freaky ass R&B’ with the heart emoji that she uses only for you). Things evolve, and they get better, and they have a way of surprising you in the best way possible, like when Paige gazes at you as you speak, her expression soft with a realization that sounds like I’m going to love you forever and a matching look in your eyes that looks like Forever sounds perfect.

Par for the course, her eyes start drooping around midnight, her movements fluid and her hands perpetually glued to your skin. The two of you talk for a little while longer until she finally blurts, “I have something for you.”

At that, you can only raise your brow, watching her as she leans into the backseat to grab a rectangular, gift-wrapped box. Panic fills your body at the thought that you may have missed an anniversary, but you remind yourself that it’s only November; your official anniversary wasn’t until late December.

She clears her throat, the nervousness reflected in her eyes, and you can’t help but remember how she asked you to be hers for the first time. You’re not seventeen anymore, nor are you in her stepmom’s Honda Pilot, but you’re both twenty-two living a life that feels both new and familiar, basking in a love that you’ve spent your entire life cherishing.

“You can tell me anything,” you remind her, your tone soft, and that’s enough for the tension to ooze out of her shoulders.

She smiles at you, that same smile from the first time she sat down across from you in junior year AP Lit. “I know,” she murmurs. “I just wanna do this right.” Your expression melts into one of understanding. “When I first convinced you to come to one of my games, I gave you my hoodie. I remember Coach lectured me for an hour straight, ‘cause he was all like, ‘Bueckers, the school pays a lot of money for those sweatshirts, and you lost yours!’” You laugh at her imitation of her high school coach. Her eyes shine a little brighter. “Coach wasn’t stupid. I’m sure he knew what actually happened. It was hard to miss you sittin’ in the student section and cheering me on like every bucket was one you made yourself. But, honestly…I didn’t care. I liked being able to look over and see you wearin’ my name and my number. It made me feel like I wasn’t just your best friend, that I was someone you’d want to…you know, do life with. That one day you’d love me in the way I loved you even though I didn’t know it was love yet.”

“So, you came to more of my games,” she continues. “You wore my hoodie. We’d get ice cream after and we’d talk for hours. I still remember that night I almost kissed you on your porch, that afternoon in your bed when I told you we weren’t so far away, that morning when I finally kissed you in the snow, when I asked you to be my girlfriend.” Paige swallows uncomfortably. “I remember when I broke your heart. I thought I was doing you a favor, but I just hurt the both of us. I missed you for two years but I didn’t think you’d ever want me back. So I hid. But we’d text each other happy birthday, and you’d reach out after I’d injured myself. I didn’t think I deserved your attention after what I did. Then I tore my ACL, and despite everything, you came.”

“You called,” you whisper, like it was the simplest thing in the world – because it was. Your heart beats to a cadence that sounds like the dribbling rhythm of a basketball and you know that Paige’s heart beats in tandem with yours. The two of you were so inexplicably intertwined in the fabric of each other’s lives, each other’s hearts, that it was difficult to discern where you began and she ended, but you knew that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yeah,” Paige agrees, her eyes shining. “I’on care what it takes, you’re stuck with me this time around. I am never letting you go. You’re my past, present, and my future. Which is why I want you to have this.” She gives you a meaningful look and you begin to unwrap the box. When you take the lid off, you can’t stop the smile from growing on your face as you reach in, wrapping your hands around Paige’s zip-up tracksuit hoodie. It has the Husky logo and it smells just like her. You know it’s the school issued one that she wears everywhere. “It doesn’t have my name or my number on it or anything, but I got a little something embroidered on the inside.” Allowing her to guide you, she pulls back the lapel, and on the left side, directly under the Husky logo that rests over your heart, the words “Not impossible. Not for us” are stitched delicately into the fabric. You feel tears prick at your eyes as you laugh softly. “Coach is gonna kill me,” she muses, “but it’s worth it – especially since you’ll be sitting courtside in my hoodie like we’d always talked about.”

Your lip trembles, but you’re smiling widely. “Paige,” you murmur. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stick around for my games,” she says softly. “See if I’m still good at this basketball thing after taking a year off.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, placing the hoodie back into the box and wrapping your arms around her neck. Her hands find your hips, her lips pressing into your temple, and you both melt into each other with an overwhelming amount of relief. “You know I’m there,” you say. “Always will be.”

Paige squeezes your waist, pulling back far enough to smile at you before her lips find yours, kissing you with a gentleness and a passion that hasn’t gone away, no matter how long you’ve been together or how long you’ll spend looking for each other. Her kiss feels more like a vow of forever, and when she breaks away, whispering something that sounds like an I love you, you promise the same thing.

(You’re courtside at her home opener, as promised. You watch as Geno shakes his head at Paige when he catches her staring at you, mumbling something about these damn kids, but you know that she doesn’t care and you don’t either. She reserves a spot for you at every game, at every team hangout, in that crevice of her heart that you’d tattooed your name on ages ago. Every day, you fall just a little bit further in love with Paige, and one of the things that you know with an absolute certainty is that you’re spending the rest of your life with her.)

[wandaslovey]

tooth rotting fluffy drabble below 👇🏻

nothing is hotter than a good age gap. especially since the woman you were in love with seemed to only become more perfect with age. however, that didn’t stop you from teasing her about becoming older, often. after all, you were one for mischievousness.

“so what’s it like to be old?” you ask wanda one evening as the two of you were lying in bed together. she had been wrapping up some work on her laptop, some blue light filter glasses adorning her nose.

with your head draped across her legs, your hair fanning out over her bare skin, she slowly closes the lid to her laptop, looking down at you with a withering gaze. “excuse me?”

“being old - what’s it like?” you reiterate your question calmly, looking up at her through your lashes.

“i beg your pardon, little girl!” she scoffs, an incredulous smile on her face. you giggle softly at her reaction. even her response made her sound old.

“oh, you think that’s funny? i’ll give you something to laugh about..” she mutters, sliding her laptop off her lap and grabbing onto your torso. she shifts your upper body so you’re propped up against her before her fingers begin digging into your ribs. you squeak, immediately erupting into a fit of giggles.

“wanda!” you squeal her name, squirming against her, but her free arm had a firm hold around your waist, effectively trapping you there.

“take it back.” she commands. somehow, every time your hands tried to still her tickling hand, she evaded your efforts, her fingers scribbling and squeezing different parts all over your sensitive torso. you didn’t want to cave and take it back too soon, so you double your escape efforts, sputtering out a ‘never!’

wanda chuckles at your antics and allows you to squirm out of her grasp, but your moment of reprieve is short lived as she all but shoves you back down on the bed, your back falling against the sheets. she straddles your hips, her knees pressing firmly into the flesh in order to try and keep you there while one of her hands expertly entraps your wrists.

“take it back, (y/n), or else…” she tilts her head, arching a brow in a threatening manner that made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

“bite me,” you pronounce boldly, immediately biting down on your tongue after saying that. wanda purses her lips, her eyes gleaming with mischief before she leans down, heading for your neck. she tosses her hair to one side, humming as she gets close to your ear and you mentally brace yourself for the small prick of pain, but instead hear a resounding buzzing noise as she blows a raspberry against your neck. you make a sound of surprise, trying to shrug your shoulder up to your chin in an effort to protect your helpless neck. wanda laughs again, using her free hand to extend your neck to the side to blow more against the sensitive skin there. you giggle, the sound and the sensation causing you to fall into a small fit.

she lifts her head from the crook of your neck, her face just inches from yours as she hovers there, her green eyes boring into yours. she looks at you, a smug expression on her face as she bites her lip, and then you feel her fingers vibrating against your stomach again.

“you really think i’m old?” she asks, faux pouting. ”that’s not a very nice thing to say to me, you know. what do you have to say for yourself?” you’re unable to answer her though, as she purposely seeks out your most sensitive spots, sending you into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“stop! please!!” you manage to breath out when she lets up a bit.

“take it back.” she repeats simply, her face still hovering closely above yours as she has you trapped firmly beneath her. you wriggle as much as the position allows, your head thrashing from side to side. she looks much too arrogant for your liking, but you know you’ll never win in this situation unless you give her what she wants.

“FINE! ok! ok! i take it back!” you half shout in desperation, wanda’s devious fingers finally ceasing to dig into your sensitive flesh. she hums her approval at you admission, kissing you sweetly on the cheek. it doesn’t go unnoticed by you that she still has yet to release your wrists from above your head.

you clear your throat. “aren’t you gonna let me go?” you ask, giving her a subtle pleading look.

“no. not yet.” she smiles down affectionately at you. “i want to be free to do as much of this as i want..” she trails off, kissing the tip of your nose. before you can ask what she means, she begins planting kisses all over your cheeks and your forehead. each kiss becomes sloppier, not one inch of your face being left uncovered. you begin to giggle again, your face moving around in a half-hearted attempt to escape the affection. she joins in laughing with you as she continues kissing your pretty face, only pulling away when she was content you were positively smothered in affection.

“you’re just about the cutest thing ever - you know that?” she asks, finally freeing your wrists and using that hand to trace down the bridge of your nose.

“i love you.” you murmur softly, looking adoringly into her eyes. she kisses you chastely on the lips.

“and i love you, my darling girl.”

she gently rolls to the side, pulling your body close to hers until you were practically meshed together. you burrow your face into her neck, inhaling her comforting scent as you relax in her arms. after a moment, you break the silence.

“hey wanda?”

“hmm?”

“i think it’s incredibly hot that you’re older, but you know i don’t actually think you’re old.”

she smiles, though you can’t see it from where your face is buried. “i know.”

[astars-things]

hiiiii, could you please write anything fluffy with Hughes!brothers pls when you have time 💕. Hope ur doing well xx ❤️❤️

I'm doing okay thank you for asking x

word count- 1003

Being the eldest of four siblings meant you had always been the one looking out for Quinn, Jack, and Luke. You were a year older than Quinn, three years older than Jack, and five years older than Luke. But for the past year, you had been traveling the world, chasing adventure and discovering new places. 

As incredible as it had been, nothing compared to home, and you missed your family more than words could express. Jack and Luke had made it painfully obvious how much they missed you, constantly sending you messages and complaining about how quiet things were without you. Quinn, being Quinn, wasn’t as vocal, but you knew he felt the same. And your parents? They were counting down the days until you returned—except they had no idea today was the day.

You had planned this surprise down to the last detail. Turning off Life360 and telling your family you’d be in a no-service area had worked like a charm—no suspicions at all. You knew they were all at the lake house for the summer since hockey was on pause, which made it the perfect opportunity. Your flight had been at an ungodly hour, and by the time you landed in Michigan, the sun was already starting to dip—5 PM, just in time for their weekly game night.

Your childhood best friend, who was just as excited as you, had eagerly agreed to pick you up from the airport. The moment you stepped into the arrivals area, she sprinted toward you, practically tackling you in a hug.

“Y/N!” she shrieked, squeezing you so tight you could barely breathe. "god i misses you so much"

“I missed you too ,” you said breathlessly, laughing as you hugged her back.

The car ride to the lake house was filled with nonstop chatter, catching up on everything you had missed.

“Oh my God, I met the hottest man while I was in Australia,” you gushed, still thinking about how dreamy he had been. “He was just… ahh.”

She smirked, shaking her head. “I need details later. But first, let’s make your family cry.”

As soon as you arrived, you left your luggage in the car, making a mental note to grab it later. Your best friend had already put the next phase of the plan into motion—texting your mom, telling her she missed you and wanted to come over. In reality, she was setting up the perfect moment to record everyone’s reaction.

She walked inside, greeted everyone with a hug, and casually took a seat on the couch, pulling out her phone  she sent you a quick text Now and quickly switching to the camera app to record.

Taking a deep breath, you walked toward the door, heart pounding in anticipation.

You pushed it open gently, stepping inside. “so who is winning? Also where was my invite?”

For a moment, there was silence—stunned, disbelieving silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

Your mom gasped so loudly you thought she might pass out, and before you could blink, she was rushing toward you, arms wide open, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my baby—my baby’s home!” she sobbed, hugging you so tightly it felt like she’d never let go.

Jack let out an actual scream—high-pitched, borderline embarrassing—and launched himself at you, nearly knocking you over. “NO WAY! NO WAY! Y/N! YOU’RE HERE! YOU’RE REALLY HERE!” His voice cracked mid-sentence as he clung to you like a koala.

Luke was right behind him, eyes already red and watery. “I missed you so much,” he choked out, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your shoulder.

You felt another set of arms around you—Quinn. He didn’t say much, just a whispered, “I really missed you,” but the way his voice wavered told you everything you needed to know.

Your dad was wiping his eyes, trying (and failing) to keep it together. “This is the best surprise ever,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug.

Jack sniffled dramatically, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I don’t care if it makes me look weak—I’M CRYING,” he announced.

Luke nodded furiously, wiping his own tears. “Same.”

Quinn, still hugging you, just sighed. “Yeah… me too.” 

Your best friend cackled from the couch, still recording. “I’m so glad I got all of this on video.”

Jack groaned. “This is so embarrassing.”

Jack wiped his face aggressively with his sleeve. “Whatever. I’m just happy you’re home.”

Luke sniffled, still clinging to you like a lost puppy. “You’re not allowed to leave again.”

Quinn, who had finally let go, gave you a soft smile. “Agreed.”

Your mom cupped your face, eyes still shining with happy tears. “You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.”

You leaned into her touch, sighing contentedly. “I missed you all more than words can say.”

Before you could say anything else, Jack suddenly gasped. “WAIT. YOU HAVE TO SIT NEXT TO ME FOR GAME NIGHT.”

Luke pouted. “Uh, no? She’s sitting next to me.”

“Guys,” Quinn interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “She just got here. Let her breathe.”

Your dad chuckled. “Or at least let her eat first.”

But before you could even think about food, Jack grabbed your hand, dragging you toward the couch. “Nope, nope, game night first. You’ve missed too many already!”

Luke plopped down on your other side, still holding onto your arm like a security blanket. “You’re not moving from this spot, Y/N.”

Quinn shook his head but didn’t argue as he sat across from you, smiling softly. “It really is good to have you home.”

Your mom brought over snacks, still occasionally wiping her eyes. Your dad gave your shoulder a squeeze before settling in next to your mom. Your best friend, having successfully recorded every teary-eyed reaction, put her phone down with a satisfied grin and leaned against you.

And as you sat there, sandwiched between your brothers, hearing their laughter, feeling their warmth, you realized this—this was home.

Jack suddenly squeezed your hand. “Promise you won’t leave for that long again?”

You squeezed back, looking around at your family, at the pure love radiating from each of them.

“I promise.”

And for the first time in a long time, your heart felt completely full.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

Can I see some hcs on a sub Mydei (if you can see it even being possible) there's barely any and I want to see him being a sub for once...

୨ৎ Warnings : dom!fem reader．nsfw/smut hcs ， bratty Mydei ， using a strap on Mydei while he sits on your lap ，forcing Mydei to wear a tight shirt that shows is physique ，pegging ， holding organsm ，small fic bonus under the cut ! ✧

୨ৎ Note : tysm for sending this ask to me nonnie! sub mydei is so underrated! (˶˃ᆺ˂˶)

Sub!Mydei who always… manages to stir up trouble, pushing your buttons with that playful grin. He loves to test your patience, and the way he smirks at you only makes your resolve stronger. He knows he’s getting under your skin, but deep down, he craves the kind of attention that only you can give him.

Sub!Mydei who always… wears that tight shirt you forced him into, showcasing his toned physique perfectly. It clings to him, accentuating every curve and muscle, and you can’t help but admire the view as he sits on your lap. “Do you like what you see?” he teases, his voice dripping with playful confidence. You respond by tightening your grip around his waist, reminding him who’s in charge.

Sub!Mydei who always… finds himself squirming as you strap on the harness. As he sinks onto your lap, you slide the tip of the strap-on against him, feeling him pulse with anticipation. “You know how much I love it when you sit on me,” you say, your voice low and sultry. He bites his lip, trying to keep his composure, but you can see the desire in his eyes. “You’re going to take it like a good boy, right?”

Sub!Mydei who always… tries to act tough, but you can feel his resolve waver as you press the strap-on inside him. He gasps, his body instinctively arching against you, and a teasing smirk crosses his face. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but his breath hitches, betraying his need. “Maybe you’re not as dominant as you think.”

Sub!Mydei who always… pushes back against you, eager to take control as he starts to ride you. You relish in the way his hips move, the way he tries to regain dominance, but you know how to remind him of his place. “Careful now—I might have to teach you a lesson,” you say, your voice thick with authority. He grins, mischief dancing in his eyes, and challenges you, “Is that a promise?”

Sub!Mydei who always… finds himself losing focus as you pull him closer, your fingers gripping his waist, guiding him with just the right pressure. “You love this, don’t you?” you whisper, watching his expression shift from playful defiance to pure pleasure. “You can admit it; I won’t tell anyone.” He gasps, the heat of your words sending him over the edge.

Sub!Mydei who always… succumbs to the pleasure you provide, desperately chasing after release as he grinds against you. Each thrust sends shockwaves of ecstasy through both of you, and you can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his tight shirt. “I can’t take it anymore!” he gasps, his voice laced with desperation. “Please, I need you to let me cum!”

Sub!Mydei who always… tries to maintain his playful demeanor but can’t help but let out moans that betray him. “You’re so much better at this than I thought,” he admits, breathless and overwhelmed. “Maybe I should let you take control more often.” You smirk, enjoying the way he surrenders to the pleasure while still trying to cling to that teasing nature.

Sub!Mydei who always… finds himself completely at your mercy, his body responding to every command you give. As you guide him closer to the edge, you remind him how good it feels to let go. “Just relax and let me take care of you,” you coax, watching as his eyes roll back in pleasure. The tension in his body builds, and with one last push, he’s finally spilling over the edge, calling out your name as he finds his release.

ఌ Bonus : (Riding sub!mydei’s cock)

You find yourself in the dimly lit room, the air thick with anticipation as you watch sub!Mydei, his posture relaxed yet alert, sitting on the edge of the bed. The sight of him in that tight shirt, clinging to his toned physique, makes your heart race. You can see the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric, a clear indication of his excitement.

“Are you ready for me, Mydei?” you ask, your voice sultry as you step closer, a teasing smile on your lips. He looks up at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’ve been ready for a while now,” he replies, his tone cheeky but laced with genuine need. You can’t help but chuckle at his audacity, but you know he’s about to get what he wants.

You slowly climb onto the bed, positioning yourself above him. The sight of him, the cock that’s waiting just for you, makes your breath hitch. You feel the heat radiating from him, and you’re ready to take control. “Then let’s see if you can handle me,” you say, lowering yourself onto him, feeling the head of his cock brushing against your slick entrance.

Mydei lets out a shaky breath, his eyes darkening with desire. “Damn, you feel amazing,” he groans as you sink down, taking him deep inside you. The fullness makes you moan, your body instinctively adjusting to him. You love the way he fills you, the feeling of his cock stretching you just right.

As you begin to rock your hips, you can see his resolve start to crumble. “You’re such a good boy for me,” you purr, relishing the way he bites his lip, trying to suppress his moans. “I want to hear you, Mydei. Let me know how good this feels.” With every thrust, you bring yourself closer to that sweet, familiar tension, and you love seeing him unravel beneath you.

“God, you’re so tight,” he gasps, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. You can feel his cock hitting all the right spots, sending electric jolts through your body. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he admits, his voice breathy and desperate. You can feel your clit throbbing in response, each roll of your hips igniting the fire within you.

“Then let’s make it worth the wait,” you reply, picking up the pace, riding him harder. Your body moves in a rhythm that drives you both wild, and you feel the heat building within you. You can tell he’s close, the way his breath quickens and his grip on you tightens. “I can feel you getting close, Mydei. Are you going to cum for me?”

“Yes! Please!” he cries out, his voice filled with urgency. “I need to feel you cum around my cock!” The way he begs only heightens your desire, and you feel a rush of power knowing that you’re the one bringing him to this point of bliss.

“Not yet,” you tease, slowing down just a bit to make him squirm. You want to prolong the pleasure, to see how much he can take. “I want you to beg for it.” The challenge in your voice only fuels his need, and you watch as he tries to regain his composure, a mixture of frustration and longing on his face.

“Please, I can’t hold back much longer! I need to cum!” His desperation only adds to the intensity, and you quicken your pace once more, taking him deeper and harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with the moans and gasps that escape both of your lips.

“Good boy,” you whisper, feeling your own orgasm approaching. You lean forward, capturing his lips with yours in a heated kiss, the taste of him igniting every nerve in your body. “Cum for me, Mydei. I want to feel you fill me.” The command spills from your lips, and that’s all it takes.

With a loud groan, he finally releases, his cock pulsing inside you as waves of pleasure crash over him. You can feel him spilling his essence, filling you completely, and the sensation sends you spiraling into your own climax. The two of you ride out the waves together, lost in the bliss of the moment.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[ghost-proofbaby]

"AND JUST LIKE ALL THOSE TIMES BEFORE, YOU WEAR YOUR BEST APOLOGY. BUT I WAS THERE TO WATCH YOU LEAVE."

summary: you finally see all the damage done.

warnings: strong language, angst, mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, direct mention of cocaine usage, reactions to possible overdose, mentions of making someone throw up/someone throwing up, thoughts of death/losing someone. dead dove - do not eat. and, please, minors dni.

wc: 5.3k+

a/n: i need to emphasize the warnings for this chapter. it's not a pretty one, and i must emphasize that this is not meant to be glorifying this behavior at any capacity - if anything, take note of how damaging and destructive it is. if you are unable to read due to warnings, let me know, and i will post a more direct summary of this chapter to be read in place of it. thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for beta-reading this one (and for always letting me ramble about this story endlessly) <3

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Show me what you’ve become, Eddie. 

You need to be more careful what you wish for these days. 

Gareth nearly runs into you when you pause mere steps within the apartment, looking around and trying to swallow down all your shock. He’d warned you, tried to prepare you for the worst, but you hadn’t expected this. 

The penthouse is hardly recognizable from how you’d witnessed it during the weekend. 

It’s a mess, an explosion of loose-leaf paper and empty beer bottles across every room within view – the living room, the kitchen, the hallway. Not one, but two ashtrays filled to the brim sit patiently on the coffee table. You can make out butts of cigarettes, as expected, but there’s also plenty of roaches to catch your eye. Burnt down to the filter, sucked dry for all they were worth. You swear you see broken glass, and when you find the strength to stumble forward one more step, you confirm it. 

Not broken out of anger, but seemingly having slipped off the edge of the coffee table. 

“Fuck,” the expletive falls from your lips before you can think better of it. The longer you stare at the scene, the worse it all comes to light. 

Pens thrown astray, plenty of glasses laying on their side on both the floor and couch.  Sticky rims, sparse ashes flickered about. You see one empty bottle of whiskey, and have no doubt there’s another – possibly multiple – scattered throughout the apartment. 

“I told you,” Gareth says weakly, placing an attempt of a comforting hand on your shoulder, “It gets bad.”

How can so much damage happen over four measly days? 

You try to shrug off Gareth’s hand, but he tightens his grip, “Look, maybe we should leave. Matt and I can handle this-” 

“No,” you snipe, pulling far from him, taking several steps into the wreckage. “I told Matt that Eddie was my problem now, and I meant it. You can leave if you want, but I’m staying.” 

Eddie’s clearly not out here in the living room. There’s a deep imprint on the couch that looks like he may have been there recently, but he’s long gone. All that’s left is the mess, and a sinking feeling in your gut as you spy another terrible item on the coffee table. 

Gareth spots it just as you do, as well. 

“Listen, I really think we should leave.” 

The magazine with that blurry, candid photo of the two of you on the cover, bold and bright letters obscuring it. Those, and the little white line you can spot remnants of across the shiny paper. 

“I’m not fucking leaving, Gareth.” 

What the fuck happened in the last four days? 

Had you said something wrong that night? One wrong step, in a fatal direction, sending Eddie right into this crash out? Had it been the contract, and how hastily you had signed it, that sent him straight into spinning out of control? 

You lean down to snatch up one of the glasses discarded onto the floor, unphased by the residue of alcohol that clings to your fingers. The overwhelming and nauseating scent of pure whiskey almost makes you sick. 

“Does this happen every time?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even, almost too quiet to be heard over the drumming in your chest, “Does this- is this fucking normal to you guys?” 

He gets this way.

You kick a pile of papers, eyes wandering over deeply scratched words in black ink. 

This is sort of normal for him.

“Do you guys just-” you struggle to find the words, looking around at this mess. All the red flags, all the reasons to run, and all you feel is a terrible pull towards Eddie. The need to find him, the need to refuse to leave him alone through this all, is rampant in your chest. “Do you guys really just leave him during times like this? When he clearly needs you most?” 

You swear, you’ve started to see red. 

When you turn to face Gareth, he’s holding his hands up, face twisted in defensiveness, “Hey, listen, it’s not like that-”

“Then what is it like?” 

If Eddie’s in this apartment, he can surely hear you. Your voice is no longer quiet and timid, wavering with each syllable. Loud and clear, ready for a fight. 

“You haven’t been here this last year!” Gareth raises his own voice to match yours, seeming more desperate than agitated, “It’s not like we just- just- gave up on him!”

And yet, that’s exactly what it looks like has happened. 

Every single person that has become a staple in Eddie’s life has seemingly given up on him. They’ve given up fighting for him, on pushing him, on offering a helping hand. They claim to have grown weary, broken bones and patience alike in the battle of forcing Eddie to be a better person. And standing here in this apartment, seeing what they so clearly try to cover up and ignore, you know they’re going about it wrong. 

You don’t have to force Eddie to be a better person. He already is a good person, somewhere deep down. 

“That’s exactly what it looks like!” you laugh coldly, waving about the apartment, “You all clearly knew what to expect, what- what this place was going to look like. You knew what was happening, and you’re doing nothing.”

Gareth’s nostrils flare with one deep breath, and you already know what he’s about to say is going to cut deep, “Aren’t you the one that simply vanished on him? On all of us?” 

He’s right. The blow of the truth would have jarred you more had you not been prepared. 

“I didn’t know,” you say lowly, narrowing your eyes at the boy before you, “I had no idea he had gotten this bad-”

“Oh, c’mon,” Gareth shakes his head, turning and walking carefully through the damage, gesturing about just as you had been, “You’re not stupid. We both know you aren’t. What else did you think was happening?” Another step, and you can hear the crunch of glass beneath the sole of his shoe that has you cringing, “That Eddie was just… having the time of his life? That everything was perfect?” he pauses on the other side of the couch, and you can see a world of hurt behind his big brown eyes. “You knew better than that. You knew him better than that.”

What had you thought was going on when Eddie pulled away so suddenly?

Had you really known Eddie as well as Gareth is assuming right now? 

Your eyes flutter shut as your throat tightens, because the hard pill to swallow is that’s exactly what you had thought. That Eddie’s life was finally perfect. That he was living his wildest dreams. That there was only one bump in the road to his otherworldly success, in the terrible shape of you. 

“You…” You don’t know what those last months were like. You don’t have the sound of Eddie’s voicemail memorized. You don’t wake up from nightmares to the sound of a dial tone in place of future plans bursting into flames. You don’t know the silence. “You’re right.”

You could spend days standing here as you made excuses. One after another, a list longer than the miles once put between you and Eddie. Dissect every possibility you’d deemed possible, and drudge up all the ones you’d simply refused to see in the daylight. 

Fighting with Gareth doesn’t make this right. Fighting with one of the boys you’d grown up with doesn’t erase the situation at hand. 

“Everything was going to shit a long time before you left, y’know,” Gareth’s voice finally breaks a bit, and you look up to find the rims of his eyes pink as they hold back tears, “I don’t know why you left, none of us do, but I’m willing to bet all the blood money I’ve made from this band that it’s because of something an awful lot like this.” 

“I did what I had to do,” you defend yourself so weakly that even you don’t believe the words. 

“Exactly. Just like we have been since you left.” 

There’s more to say and more to argue about, but it’s enough for now. You don’t want to waste another second here, pointing fingers at who’s in the wrong and who’s to blame. Really, all you want to do is find Eddie. 

So you do just that. You decide to make a beeline for the hallway.

“I-” Gareth takes a few steps towards you, but you don’t slow down. He has the common sense to follow, “Where are you going?” 

“He’s obviously not in there,” you say through heavy breaths, fighting tears and pausing between the two doors at the end of the hall. The in-house studio, or the bedroom. “We can fight about it later. I don’t care, I just-”

You choose the bedroom. 

All your words die on your tongue as you throw open the door and see him, all the oxygen in your lungs expelled forcibly to make room for a hole like never before in your chest.

He’s sprawled out across the bed, still in a t-shirt and jeans that look eerily similar to what he had worn Sunday. 

“Eddie.”

You’re not sure if it’s your voice or Gareth’s that echoes through the room as you throttle forward, body in autopilot. 

What happened to him? Is he okay? Is he breathing? Is he alive?

The bed jumps from the weight of you as you crumble beside him, quick to press your ear to his chest. 

Is he alive?

The first thing you notice is the warmth of him beneath your palms. A good sign. 

Please be alive. 

The next thing you notice is the shaky breaths resonating within that chest you cling to. A heartbeat mingling somewhere beneath the press of your cheek as you slump in relief. A grunt as the weight of you pins him down. 

“What the-”

The words are croaked and slurred, as if Eddie hadn’t spoken out loud in days. You feel him start to shift beneath you, and the moment of serene relief that had overcome you from him just being alive evaporates as quickly as it had momentarily lived within your chest. 

Please stay alive.

You sit up straight, eyes finding his, “What did you take?” 

Blown out pupils. Whiskey breath. Powder residing at the tip of his nose, barely noticeable until you were as close as you currently were. 

“I-” Eddie blinks up at you slowly, mouth ever so slightly agape, looking confused as ever, “What do you mean?” 

I need to keep him alive.

“I mean,” you hiss out, sitting up fully and dragging him with you. You can’t focus on the fear creeping up at seeing him this way; it’s as though he might not be within his body, like he’s vacated the premises and you’ve been left with an uncoordinated vessel. “What the fuck did you take, Edward Munson?”

“Maybe we should give him a sec-” Gareth starts, but he’s cut off when you stand up entirely, Eddie in tow with your hands around his biceps. 

The boy makes no move to help you, clearly shocked, but Eddie is pliable. He lets you toss him around like a ragdoll, no protests to be heard beyond ragged breaths that you can’t quite be sure you aren’t just imagining joining your own. 

I need him to stay.

You’re not giving him a second. Depending on what he’s taken, that second could be the line between life and death. 

“Tell me,” you grunt with persistence, working your way under Eddie’s arm to support his weight against your body properly, “What you’ve taken,” Gareth takes a step forward but pauses at your sharp glare, “So I can make sure you don’t fucking die on me, Munson.” 

Your voice is terribly fragile as you start dragging him along towards the bathroom. His feet are moving, stumbling right along with you, but he remains mostly slumped against your side. Head lolling, eyes closed every time you sneak a glance through your struggle.

I need him to stay with me. Please.

Gareth is a foreign stranger, a mere on-looker to the catastrophe. 

That’s fine. It’s fine. It’s becoming abundantly clear that he doesn’t recall any of Eddie’s speeches, lectures, regarding the mixing of drugs that he gave once the group had discovered his side gig back in Hawkins. 

Which drugs did he warn against mixing? Which substances should I be worried about getting out of his system first? What symptoms should I be watching for? 

You rack your brain with each step towards the bathroom, only being able to remember one thing crystal clear. If nothing else, you recall Eddie telling you the easiest way to sober someone up a great deal, across most substances they might have taken. 

The shower. You need to get him in the shower. 

It’s not the cold water you need, although it’ll certainly help. Maybe it can shock him out of this trance just a bit, doing away with his droopy lids and any lingering substances on his body. Sweat, cocaine, alcohol – it’ll clean him up, surely, but that’s not your only goal. 

“Anytime Rick has seen someone try to mix the harder stuff with alcohol,” Eddie had once drawled to you in his van after a party he’d let you join him in attendance of, a milkshake in both of your hands as you’d reminisced on the night, “He makes ‘em chuck it all up. It’s gross. But efficient. Gets ‘em in a shower, or out in the yard, and just… makes it vomit town. Doesn’t do much but does somethin’, I guess.” 

All your movements are robotic, your mind hardly your own as you go through the motions. You don’t know how you’ve dragged him fully into the bathroom so quickly, no help from Gareth – but you have. You don’t know how you kept him upright, pressed tightly to your side as you turn on the water – but you have. You don’t know how you manage to situate him on the floor of the tiled shower, water soaking his knees and calves – but you do. 

Your body isn’t your own. Just like Eddie, you’ve become a witness to the events, no longer feeling as though you’re actually partaking in them as you take the final step. 

It’s not a pretty sight.

You don’t register the feeling of you shoving your fingers down Eddie’s throat, but soon enough, his head is hanging between his knees and Gareth is hovering behind you in sheer distress. 

“Did he just-” he starts to question, trying to peer past your kneeling figure to get a better look.

You don’t make him finish the sentence, doing the honors, “Throw up all that shit in his system? Yes.”

Look at me. Stay with me. Stay alive. 

Your chest feels two sizes too tight as you look at his heaving shoulders, a hand hesitating in mid-air as it reaches out to land on his back. That space between your palm and his shaking back. Two inches of space as your skin constricts a bit tighter. 

Stay with me. Please. 

Gareth is saying something, probably having a complete meltdown as you should be, but it’s static noise. Nothing else matters as you completely destroy that final bit of distance, and you let your palm fall against his back. Feather-light, so unsure, quivering even more than his figure as you go deathly still. 

You can feel every breath. Every little hiccuping gasp he takes as he regains composure. 

Look at me, please. 

Your pride, your fear, and your panic all collide as you give in. Your still hand is now in motion, palm rubbing his back feverishly with desperate comfort. You collapse entirely on the ground, letting yourself fall half into the shower to be close to him. You don’t care about the metal railing digging into your thighs and hip, you don’t care about your clothes growing damp as you enter the edges of the stream of water now washing away all the vomit. 

You only care about him. 

You’re about to open your mouth to say his name, surely being your voice this time as Gareth continues to hang back in shock, when umber brown eyes are finally looking up at you. 

The rivers of blood below the surface of your skin run far colder than the stream of water coming from his shower ever could. 

It’s simple syllables, the quietest of noises, and it has the power to absolutely crush you – all he does is sigh your name, and the world stops. 

You can’t speak. He slowly leans back up, back colliding harshly with the tiled wall of the shower, and you can’t speak. You hardly even move that pathetic attempt of a comforting palm out of the way in time.

He’s squinting as he groans, eyes darting between you and Gareth, “What the fuck happened?” 

You lean back out of the water a bit, unaffected by the feeling of wet jeans sticking to your skin, as Gareth scoffs out, “You went on a fucking bender. That’s what happened. Again.”

“It wasn’t a bender-”

“Bull-fucking-shit.” 

All his words are still slurring. His pupils are still just a tad bit too big for those whiskeyed eyes. 

“I was just having a bit of fun-”

“What about this is ever fun?” Gareth’s voice raises, louder than he had even been when fighting with you in the living room. “The part where we find you high out of your mind, half-dead in your apartment? Or the part where we’ll be cleaning up your mess?” 

I just wanted him safe. Alive. With me. 

You can’t join in the fight, because you weren’t looking for a fight. You had been so focused on simply finding Eddie, making sure he was okay, that you’d never considered what would happen once you did. 

“Oh, fun,” Eddie laughs coldly as his head throws back carelessly, and you flinch at the way he lets his skull bounce against the tile. Your fingers twitch, aching to have stopped it, to prevent any further damage, “We’re gonna have this argument again.” 

I just needed him alive. 

Your palms are sweaty against the tops of your thighs, pressed down tightly to prevent from reaching out to Eddie. There’s a ferocious need to clean him up further, to kick Gareth from the bathroom, to focus more on getting him sober than scolding him right now, but-

“Damn right, we are!” Gareth’s sneakers narrowly miss your lower back, and you’re looking over your shoulder with shock as he begins pacing, “Yeah, we fucking are having this fight again. How many times is it going to take? How many times am I going to have to explain to someone new how this is your normal now? How many times is someone going to stare at me like I’m the asshole here when I don’t do anything to prevent it, because I can’t?” 

“Gareth-” you whisper, trying to calm him down, moving to stand up when Eddie laughs again. 

“I don’t even fuckin’ know why she’s here,” you aren’t looking at him when he says it, and you’re almost glad for it. It’s in the way he says it – words easily mistaken for the ringing of a blade being sharpened, “What’s the point? Go ahead and do it now, Sugar.” 

Slowly, ever so slowly, you turn back towards Eddie, “Do what?” 

Dagger in hand, eyes so cold, he finally hits his mark, “Leave. That’s what you do, right? So just do it. Leave.”

Just how much blood can the human body spill? 

There must have been a time you learned that fact. 

Some time long ago, in a faraway classroom, the fact fell from the lips of a high school teacher in a droning tone. But you can’t remember it, because somewhere in that mystifying glimpse of the past, you’re sitting in a chair beside the man in front of you. You’re not bothered with facts of the human body or blood loss, because all you know is passing notes and giggles covered with coughs, the gentle tickle of knuckles brushing and knees bumping beneath desks. Your mind was on afterschool plans, which diner you’d meet up at and which of you would be picking the flavor of the milkshake you two would share. Who would claim they don’t want fries, and who would be sliding their plate across the table to let the before liar have easier reach. Who would be dozing off on the other's shoulder, as the other one finally brought up the responsible topic of homework. 

Trivial things. Things taken for granted. Things that fall out of reach when you finally extend yourself towards them, with the whisper of never being able to go back. The weight of Eddie’s cheek pressed to your bare shoulder over the roar of summertime cicadas outside a diner window, or the flat tone of a teacher informing their students of a fact they’ll seemingly never utilize again in their life.

You don’t remember, because back then, you’d never expected the man before you to make you bleed. 

You start to shake your head, but he prevents you from defending yourself, “You can’t deny it. You did it – it happened. We wanna air out all my dirty laundry? Cool, let’s start with yours.”

“Eddie,” Gareth has quieted down as you’d wanted, but you wish he hadn’t, “Give her a break, man.” 

Every atom in your body is hardening to try and prepare itself for his next blow. All expression drained from your face, the life fading from your eyes. 

“Why should I?” When he leans forward, you don’t even worry if he might get sick again all over you. He levels you with a wintery stare, and it’s the eyes of a stranger looking into yours now, “Why should I give her a break, or get my hopes up, when we both know how this ends? I’m saving us both some heartbreak, ain’t I, Sugar?” 

The way each word bleeds into one another should lessen the blow. The haze over his eyes should make everything feel a little more dull, a little less precisely sharpened. The sluggish movements and the constant sway of his body even when frozen in place should make it all less painful. 

But drunken words are honest thoughts, and you can’t help as the first crack of emotion bursts in the form of burning eyes. 

Stay with me. I need you to stay with me.

You don’t have it in you to defend yourself, to defend whatever this is that you two have pulled out of the rubble. 

All you can do is meet his stare, so vacant and so chilling, as you say, “I’m not leaving.” 

And then, ironically, you do exactly that. You leave. 

Shoulder bouncing against Gareth’s, you move as quickly as you possibly can out of the suffocating bathroom, the tables turning entirely. The roles have switched, and now you’re the one gasping for air. 

“Hey, hold on,” Gareth tries to reach out for you, but you’re quicker than him in pulling yourself away from the two of them entirely. 

“Clean him up,” you instruct flatly, unwilling to look at Eddie. You’ve seen enough, bled enough, for one day. 

Neither man replies to you verbally, and all you hear as you exit the room is the pattern of water breaking against the tile. It almost sounds like your heart, if Eddie Munson hadn’t already done the honor of tearing it apart in his current state.

—

You stay true to your word.

You don’t leave.

Not the apartment, at least.

For the next hour, you put yourself to work, digging under Eddie’s kitchen sink and finding a large enough trash bag for the current task you busy yourself with. You never let a single tear fall as you glide around the living room, the kitchen, the hallway. 

You don’t go near the bedroom. Near the bathroom. Near Eddie. 

Gareth only shows his face once the entire duration, stepping outside of the room briefly but never glancing your way. You can only assume it’s to let Eddie get dressed, his clothes probably needing to be washed after the entire ordeal. 

If he flinches as he hears you toss all the trash within reach of your hurricane in the bag particularly violently, you don’t say a word. 

By the time there’s any sign of life on Eddie’s part, you’ve already cleaned up most of the apartment. Ashtrays emptied, all glasses not broken in the sink, a semi-neat pile of any pages you could decipher his handwriting upon. You were cruel, if Eddie’s presumption of knowing how this ends was anything to go off of, but you weren’t so cruel as to toss away anything he might have written for his career. 

This time, you don’t snoop. You know better than to read a single line on the pages. If Eddie has something he wants to say to you now, he’ll have to say it to your face. 

There’s a creak from down the hall as you’re finally collapsing onto the couch, a photo frame in hand as the overflowing trash bag is discarded to the floor temporarily, fingers already working nimbly at getting the back of the frame off before whoever it may be enters the room. 

Just as the creased photograph is in your grasp, a throat clears from behind you. 

“I…” he sounds smaller than he had in the bathroom, voice a bit clearer, “Uh, thank you. For…. for earlier.” 

Slow, steady steps. No longer blundering, or needing the support of another body to guide him. 

“I’m-”

If you were to turn around, you know you’d see the Eddie Munson you swear you know. The one who had sat beside you in science class, the one you would kiss under the bleachers every Friday night. You’d see the boy you’d followed across states, followed all the way to New York, sprinting to catch up with him as he’d trailed ferociously after his dream. Clear eyes, somber face, not a single blade in hand. 

But you can’t keep chasing after that boy. You think before Eddie ever turned his daggers towards you, he had taken them to that boy first, and he was buried long before you could even think to say goodbye. 

“Don’t apologize,” you force out, letting the words leave you as easily as the breath you were holding. The air in your lungs, however, stays put. “You were fucked up. It’s fine.”

Over the edge of the photograph you hold, you see his bare feet. New tattoos on unfamiliar ankles, the hems of pants he’d bought without you at his side. 

“It’s not fine, and I shouldn’t have said that,” Each word drips with sincerity. Then again, his accusation in the shower had as well, as you recall it now, “Will you- Please look at me.” 

Please look at me.

Please look at me.

Please stay with me. 

You can’t say that you break. Because, truthfully, you hadn’t been whole to begin with. Some sort of chasm had torn you apart the moment you walked into this apartment - no, the moment you had walked into that damned meeting room and seen his face for the first time in years. 

Two years. Twenty five months. One hundred weeks. 

Your brain has no capacity to break down the hours, minutes, seconds. All the time spent without him, unknowing that the man you had loved was rotting away in the ground six feet under, as the ghost of him haunted stages across the world. 

“I need to finish cleaning,” you say suddenly, jumping up off the couch, keeping your vision downwards. 

What if you look at him, and you decide to leave?

What if you look into his eyes and see the picture once painted by dial tones and automated voices announcing an electronic mailbox was full? 

What if you just weren’t as strong as you were determined to be?

“I have all the cups in the kitchen sink,” the words slip over a frantic tongue, one hand twisting at the plastic material of the bag until your nails are piercing right through the thin veil to prod painfully at your palm as the other won’t let go of that damned photograph, “I emptied all the ashtrays, and-”

Why should I give her a break, or get my hopes up, when we both know how this ends?

When we both know how this ends? 

How does it end? You want to scream at him, ask him the question that chokes you up now. Is this how it ends, with awkward encounters and coming to the rescue recklessly? Does it end with hurtful words said out of spite over the stench of intoxication, or does it end more quietly, over the whispers of apologies and thanks that should never have been necessary to begin with? 

Does it ever really end? Because surely, it didn’t end for you two years ago. Twenty five months ago. One hundred weeks ago. 

Why does this love of yours insist upon being a weapon, just as Eddie had written in his song? 

“Sugar, please,” he tries to stand in your way, force you to look up, but you won’t, “Please, stop cleaning, and-”

“I can’t.”

“You can, just sit down, let’s talk about-”

“I can’t.” 

“Gareth can get the rest of it all, it’s fine-”

“I can’t!”

You both stop all movements, Eddie’s shuffling and your attempts to escape him, as the yell falls off your lips. Finally, you look up at him, shocked to find red-rimmed eyes.

They weren’t that pink when you’d found him. Even when intoxicated. 

The tears gathered proves it. 

“I almost lost you, Eddie!” It feels good to scream. Feels good to watch him crumple right along with you as your voice bounces around the hollow room. “You almost left me this time, okay? And not- not in the- you wouldn’t just be somewhere out there!” At some point, your hands begin to curl into shaking fists, and you let them fall against Eddie’s chest in a broken pattern. Thump, thump, thump, “You’d just be fucking gone! There would be no contracts to fix it! I can’t make a deal with the fucking Devil or God to bring you back!” His fingers wrap around your wrists, fists still in motion. Not stopping you, simply holding onto you, “Gone!” Another smack to his chest, “No second chances!” Tears had started to fall, finally, but you pay your blurry no vision any mind as sobs tear out of your throat along with every weak toss of your fists, “De-”

You can’t finish the word. It’s coiled up at the back of your throat, a stopper to all the sobs you’ve started choking out. 

A chest two sizes too small, a heart with a hole in the center of it. 

Maybe you had been born with the hole in the shape of the man that catches you when you collapse against him. It was always there, nothing to be done about it, except to let him fill it. Slot himself right into your life, place himself over it just like a bandage, wrap his arms around you as small shushes fall from his lips. 

It’s selfish – terribly, terribly selfish – that he’s comforting you now. 

But he does. He lets you cry out, slumped against him without complaint. As though simply holding you might fix this. As if this entire day may be capable of being erased by this very moment. 

At some point, you have no sobs left in you. Your entire body has been pressed into Eddie’s chest, and he’s clinging to you as though his life might rely on it as he buries his cheek against the crown of your head, but not a cry is left to give. 

“I’m not leaving,” he repeats your words from earlier in the softest of tones. 

They hold an entirely different weight on his tongue. 

But the entire Universe holds its breath as it’s set into stone – neither of you are leaving. You’re both here, headstrong with feet cemented where you stand, and you are not leaving this time. 

Your fist still homes the photograph, albeit adding new wrinkles to the picture as it curls within your hold. 

Carefully, you start to pull back from Eddie, and he lets you. Arms dropping away as you take one step backward, sneakers crunching on the broken glass scattered about the rug below. 

There, in your palm, there’s a lifetime you think you may always miss. A time that you’ll always remember like a sore ache in your back molars. 

You, and Eddie, and Gareth. Even Dustin Henderson is in the photo. 

“What’s that?” Eddie asks as his eyebrows wrinkle and he attempts to get a closer look at the treasure you stare blankly at now. 

“A photo,” you blandly explain, another step back before you can collapse onto the couch once more. Eddie joins you this time, “From that first big show at the Hideout.”

There’s more words turning stale on the tongue, but you don’t need to reminisce anymore. You get it now. Sort of. 

It hurts, it might hurt for a while, but it’s over with. It’s never going to be fair to continue to compare the two of you to what once was. You can’t go back, you can’t change a past already written. Two graves need to be laid to rest now, after one hundred long weeks, and it’s time to leave the cemetery. 

That chapter was closed. The book wasn’t. 

“I meant what I said, you know,” Eddie whispers. You swear you can hear noises from down the hall, suddenly remember that Gareth was still here, “I… I didn’t say it the way I should have, but I meant it. If you want out, I’ll let you go.” 

Maybe the Universe had gotten the memo, but Eddie hadn’t. 

You look at him with wild eyes, “What? I don’t-”

“I know, I know. The contracts and stuff. But I could get them nullified. If it’s what you want, I’ll force them to let you out,” you’re stunned into silence as he smiles sadly at you, “You didn’t sign up for this shit, Sugar. I can scrap the album, too, if you want. The guys can help me write new stuff, stuff not about us, and we can just-” 

You toss that photo right onto the ground, let it flutter down to settle beside the trash can. Like flowers on a grave. 

“Do you want to know what my first thought was when I came in here?” you interrupt him, staring up at the front door as you fight back tears. He doesn’t respond, so you continue on, “Please be alive. My first thought was for you to just be alive, be okay.”

That’s what it had been. No care for nostalgia or all that once was. Simply needing him to be breathing inside this apartment.

The callous laugh that escapes him isn’t quite as cold as the ones he’d let out in the bathroom, but there’s still no trace of humor, “Can I be honest? I’m definitely alive, and some of that credit belongs to you, but… Jury’s still out about being okay.”

You turn your body towards him, blinking your sore eyes slowly, “Then talk to me about it.” 

His shock proves that this has clearly become a foreign concept. 

“What?” he tries to chuckle, tries to force a little laughter into the tone rather than sheer nerves, but it’s useless when it comes to you. He used to laugh like that any time that he lied to Wayne – it was always his giveaway. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but like I said, you didn’t sign up for any-”

“I did,” you stress, almost reaching out to grab each side of his head, shake some sense into him if possible. Just make him understand. “When I signed Matt’s contract, I signed up for it. When I agreed to get just a cup of coffee with you, I signed up for it,” you pause, taking a deep breath, eyes shutting for only a moment to compose yourself. It’s hardly a second, a long blink if anything, just so you can keep him in your sights, “You keep acting like you’ve forced me into this, but I’ve always been able to walk away if I really wanted to. Every step of the way. I could have refused to take Corroded Coffin on as a client, I could have told you to go to Hell and meant it. I could have laughed in Matt’s face when he suggested the contract. But I didn’t. Get it through your dense skull, please, Munson – I’m here, I’m staying, and I signed up for it.”

He’s quiet, dead silent as he stares at you with red eyes. You can see the bags shadowing beneath, all the damage done over four days that you can’t clean up with a trash bag and enough anxiety to fuel you for days. Things that take longer to heal, things that eat away at someone if they don’t talk about it.

You remember all that anger you’d felt when you’d realized this wasn’t the first time that Eddie had done this, that this was his new normal. 

How it had stunned you that none of them had ever just offered to talk to him. 

‘You knew him better than that.’

Gareth had been right. You do know Eddie better than that. 

“I can’t force you to talk about it all,” your voice drops, something for just the two of you, “But I can ask you to stop bottling it up. I can ask you to stop self-destructing. Because, trust me, I’ve been there – and look where it left us.” 

He tilts his head as he opens his mouth, but you’ll never hear his argument as Gareth finally enters the room. 

“I, uh, cleaned up the room and bathroom,” he holds up a smaller trash bag, free hand rubbing the nape of his neck, “I just tossed his- your old clothes into the laundry basket, but…. Yeah. It’s clean.”

A small correction, a shifting of the eyes to acknowledge not just you, but Eddie. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says, terribly earnestly, twisting his body to settle his arm along the back of the couch. You’re still thinking about that tilt of his head, and whatever he had to rebuttal you with, “I… I appreciate it.” 

The words sound uncomfortable on Eddie’s tongue, as though he hasn’t said them in a while. 

“I also called Matt and let him know you’re alive,” Gareth breezes right past the gratitude, but it moves as though a weight in the air has finally been lifted as he circles around the couch to drop his bag of trash beside yours, “He said to take a few days to recover, but… Keep in touch. Not specifically with him, if you don’t want to, just- Anyone.” 

Gareth’s eyes catch yours as he says it, and you know exactly what he means. 

Eddie won’t, can’t, speak to them – but maybe he can find a way to talk to you. 

“Thanks, Gar,” you can’t fight the slightest twitchings of smiles on the corners of your mouth as you say it, and Gareth is quick to roll his eyes. It almost feels normal. It’s almost enough to forget what’s happened. 

“If you’re going to start calling me that, I might just have to tell the guys that the pizza date is cancelled,” Eddie’s head snaps from Gareth to you, not angry but simply confused, “They still haven’t stopped talking about that, by the way. Better be good on your word, Hellfire.” 

All you can do is nod, and try to not sink too deeply into the warmth sparking up in your chest at the nickname. 

“Hellfire?” Eddie, for the first time since you’ve found him, is laughing genuinely. It’s a tired sound, a little breathless, but it’s actual laughter. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.” 

“Haven’t had her around in a while,” Gareth is quick as he nods in your direction before finally moving towards the front door, “I’m heading out now, but… Call me if you need me. Or if you start craving pizza. Or… Don’t. I don’t know, I don’t control you two.” 

You almost ask him to stay, but you’re starting to suspect Gareth had heard more of your private conversation with Eddie than you’d like, and that it might be better for him to leave before you two can continue talking.

Before you ask Eddie about the tilt of his head, the argument on his tongue. 

“See you around, Gareth,” you hum, waving as you sink back further into the couch. Already preparing to settle in for a long night, a long talk. 

“See ya,” he makes the effort to not just nod in response to you, but Eddie as well. Just as his hand is on the door, though, he suddenly turns back around, “Oh, and before I forget - catch.”

Your hands move faster than your mind, thankfully, as a shining object flies through the air from Gareth’s palm and into your chest, “What the f-”

“Matt can make a new copy if he really wants one. I think you’ll make better use of it than us for now.” 

You look down at the silver key that Gareth had produced right as you had been on the verge of getting inside the apartment, of getting to Eddie. 

Eddie sees it too, and his brows furrow quickly, “When the fuck did Matt get a key to my place?” 

“Who cares?” Gareth shrugs, “Just be glad he did, or else you’d probably be replacing your front door from her kicking it in.”

It’s your turn to let out a sincere scoff, pocketing the key regardless. He’s right – your ankle almost screams out it’s thanks as you think about whether you would have tried (you would have) and if you would have been successful (you wouldn’t have been).  

With that, Gareth leaves. 

The front door doesn’t slam shut as you and Eddie are left properly alone. A new key to add to your own chain heavy in your pocket, and a million questions weighing down your mind. 

You and Eddie turn back to one another in sync. Something simmers in the air – something hopeful, something promising. The rosy glow of sunset outside the skyline windows illuminates the room just so. 

“Now that we’re alone, I’m going to ask you one more time, and I want you to be honest,” you start strong, sure, ready. Eddie nods along with each word, never shying away from your gaze, “Are you okay?” 

Instead of answering immediately, Eddie suddenly shuffles around his position on the couch. You’re taken back, freezing up, but don’t dare protest once you realize what he’s doing. 

His head falls into your lap with minimal hesitancy, and suddenly, big brown eyes are staring up at you. 

“Honestly, Sugar? No. I feel like shit,” you can’t fathom how he manages to do it, delivering it with a boyish grin that doesn’t feel condescending, only slightly teasing. It should be inappropriate, but if this is how he needs to be in order to open up, then it works. “Got any preference on where I start?” 

Your fingers find home in his scalp on instinct, “Wherever you want, Rockstar.” 

You can bury the old versions of yourself all you want – some habits will never die. Some things will never change. 

“Great,” he sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut for just a moment. You both bask in all the serenity that traces the edges of his face as the dipping sunrise continues to paint his cheeks gentle shades of pink and orange. “Then let’s start with promising I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m never mixing cocaine and whiskey again. Totally cancels out for me. A real buzzkill.” 

“Not funny.”

“I know,” his eyes shoot open, and half his mouth raises at a sorry attempt for a grin. Still tired, still truly looking like shit, but there’s promise behind those twisting vines of amber and chestnut looking up at you, “But I mean it… Gotta start somewhere, Sugar.”

He’s right – it’s a start. And you hope he means it. Because, whether it be fortunately or unfortunately, you’re not leaving. 

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[brookediamonds]

said you’re not in my time zone, but you wanna be (part 4) | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: You're back in The Valley attempting to move on with your life after The Sekai Taikai events when an opportunity arises to compete once again. Will you finish what has been started? Will things with Axel continue like they did back in Barcelona? Or will true colors come to surface and betrayals be made?

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 → alternate ending

Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: None, allusions to sex

(a/n: the moment we've all been waiting for.... ps. keep in mind this is a fanfic and not everything will line up with the story of the show. thank you for all the love on this series, i hope y'all are pleased with it.)

gif is not mine

You toss your back pack on the floor of your bedroom before plopping down onto your bed, stomach down.

Like clock work, your fingers move instinctively to the Face Time app like you did everyday this past month, pressing the name that sent your heart into overdrive.

The call rings once, twice, and then the screen lights up with his face. His hair is a mess, sticking up in different directions, and his eyes are still heavy with sleep, barely open.

"Morning, handsome," you tease your long distance boyfriend.

Axel groans, his face burrowing itself into the pillow. "Not time yet."

You tsk'd glancing at the small clock on your nightstand that read '3:01 PM'.

"I'm afraid so," you regret to inform him. "It's 7:01 am over there."

He picks his face up from the comfort, his dark blue irises shining from the bright reflection of you in his screen.

"I'm so tired," he mumbles rubbing a hand over his face to awaken himself. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, the sleepiness a little more intense this morning.

"You didn't sleep very well, did you?" You ask worryingly. "You had a nightmare?"

Axel nods, unable to vocalize that he had another nightmare about Kwon's fall back in Barcelona.

"I'm sorry, baby," you attempt to console him over the phone. "You should've called me, I would've stayed on the phone with you while you slept."

He chuckles knowing in fact you have answered his calls in the middle of class, leaving an earbud in one ear as he would try and go back to sleep with you on the other end.

"You have school to worry about, ljubavi," his nickname for you sends a warmth through you. "Don't worry about me, I'm good."

You frown wanting nothing but to reach across the screen and wrap your arms around the boy who held the trauma the most out of everyone.

"I miss you," you whisper as the ache in your chest surfaces. Axel's gaze softens, a lazy tug pulling at the corners of his lips.

"I miss you too," he exhales, sleep still evident in his deep voice.

The past month has been life altering for everyone, what was supposed to be a tournament of champions around the world turned into a deadly outcome of someone that was led down the wrong path in life.

After you and Axel parted ways the next day, you made a promise to each other to keep in contact as much as possible, no matter the time, or distance.

"Tell me about your day, I like hearing your voice when I wake up," he says as he sat up in his bed, removing the blanket over him.

You smile softly before giving him a run down of the past 8 hours while he slept.

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

"Have you heard anything?" You ask Sam as you helped unfold a red cloth to place over a table in the LaRusso Dealership.

"Not yet," she says quietly, her eyes drifting over to Miguel who blew up balloons with Johnny. "You?"

You sighed spreading your hands among the soft fabric, smoothing it out over the tabletop.

"No, and my mom keeps sending me Tik-Tok's on the best places to see when in Okinawa," you huff.

Sam lets out a small laugh at you mother's eagerness for you to be accepted into the CIEE Study Abroad Program in Okinawa, Japan.

"Sounds like she's more excited than you are," your best friend teases you.

"I am," you say with a slight shrug. "I just don't want to get my hopes up if I can't get a scholarship."

"Did you get approved for grants or loans?" Sam inquires.

"Yeah, not everything is covered though."

You remember the large numbers written across the screen of your computer, even with the grants and subsidized loans, your mom who already works 2 jobs, would have to pay out of pocket.

"You're gonna get that scholarship," Sam assures you, placing a hand on top of your, squeezing it lightly. "I know you will."

You nod, thanking her silently for the encouragement before looking back at her boyfriend. "Have you told him yet? About our plans?"

Sam places her face in her hands, shaking her head.

"No, I don't know when the right time is, especially if we don't know our acceptance yet," she explains. "Have you told Axel?"

You grimace, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Nope, I like you don't know how to tell him," you relate. "I don't want him to be freaked out that I could move closer to him."

"I think you should tell him, from the way I saw you two back in Barcelona... I think he'll be excited," she gives you a small smile.

"Yeah, maybe," you blush thinking of the morning's and nights you and Axel talk on the phone and constantly send each other messages of random updates.

It's been only a month, and it's felt like an entirety without him.

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

"Alright, what is the big news?" You ask setting your laptop down on your desk, continuing to get ready for the LaRusso dealership anniversary party.

"Sensei told us the tournament is back on, and it will be there in The Valley!" Axel informs you all at once.

You froze mid-swipe of your lipgloss, glancing back at the boy taking up your screen.

"W—What?" You question moving closer to the computer. "How?"

"All the sensei's agreed to come back, and pick up where we left off at tournament," he explains. "Mr. Silver is paying for everything."

You can't help scoff at the mention of Silver's name, the bitterness overcoming you.

"What's wrong? I thought you would be happy," Axel frowns seeing the distraught look on your face.

"I am, I'm dying to see you," you reassure him. "But Silver still being with you guys... it doesn't feel right."

"Don't worry, ljubavi," he spoke softly. "He means nothing. I can't wait to see you again."

You shake off the bad feeling, instead focusing on the fact that you'd be able to reconcile with the boy you missed the most.

"Me too," you say, your eyes softening. "Maybe this is a good thing."

Axel looks at the camera fondly, a small smile upon his lips.

"You look beautiful by the way," he compliments you, causing you to blush. You weren't sure if Silver bringing back the tournament was a good thing, but one thing was for certain.

You couldn't wait to be with Axel in person again.

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

The next few weeks are spent training for the revival of the tournament, you find yourself sparring with each and every one you know to help prep you for any outcome.

Tory attempts to drop out of the challenge but with you and Sam in her corner again, she opts to join again, but still stays with Cobra Kai.

It's the night before the rematch of Robby and Axel, you're dressed in a simple white sundress, tugging at your homemade bracelet as you knock quietly on the hotel door.

You don't know why you're nervous to see Axel again, your fingers shake slightly as they brush the bracelet on your wrist. The door immediately swings open revealing the person you ached to see.

Axel stands there, barefoot, hair slightly damp from a shower, his black t-shirt hanging loose over his frame. But it’s his eyes that hold you still, widened slightly, flickering over you as if trying to memorize everything all over again.

"Hi," you whisper softly.

Axel doesn't say anything as he steps forward, engulfing you into his arms, your feet lifting off the ground as he crashes his lips into yours in a kiss that makes your head spin.

You barely have time to react before you’re sinking into him, one hand running over the back of his head, the other fisting into the fabric of his shirt as he holds you like he never wants to let go.

Axel walks you backward into the room, the door shutting close, only breaking the kiss when you’re both breathless. 

"I forgot how beautiful you are in person," he murmurs leaning his forehead against yours. Your heart is racing, eager you were finally here, in his arms.

"I should stay away more often if this is the greeting I'll get every time I see you," you tease him, your lips curving up into a smirk.

He chuckles before diving in for another kiss, taking his time to memorize the softness and warmth of your lips.

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

"This is not what I meant by dinner and a movie," you grin placing the freshly delivered pizza on the bed for you and Axel to share.

You adjust his large shirt over your frame as you move to sit back on the bed next to the boy who stared at you with adoring eyes.

"I'm not complaining," he smirks pressing a lingering kiss below your ear as you flipped the lid open to the box.

You roll your eyes playfully, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the movie options on the tv before you.

Axel grabs a slice of the pepperoni pizza, holding it up to your lips as you searched through the menu. You laughed softly before taking a bite.

He takes a bite after you, continuing to watch you as you ponder what to choose.

"Don't just gawk at me, help me choose a movie!" You whine, fighting back a smile.

"Okay, okay," he grins chewing through the mouthful of food.

Deciding on 'How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days' you and Axel attempt to watch the movie, but once you finish eating, talking overcomes the both of you.

"So, I decided to do something... kind of life changing," you say, eyes watching Kate Hudson as she decorates Ben's apartment with her stuff.

Axel turns his head toward you, one eyebrow quirking in curiosity. He shifts on the bed, propping himself up against the pillows as he watches you closely. 

"What is it?" He asks giving you his undivided attention. You nod, suddenly feeling a little anxious, unable to bring the words outs.

Axel see's this and takes ahold of your hand in his, squeezing it in reassurance.

"I applied to the study abroad program in Okinawa."

For a moment, there’s silence.

You bite your lip, rushing to add, "Not because of you, or—or because it’s close to Hong Kong or anything."

He furrows his eyebrows at your wording making you panic and continue word vomiting.

"I mean, obviously, I love that I’d get to see you more, but this is something I wanted even before we, before us happened," you gesture between your bodies.

Axel stares at you for a second longer, then, to your surprise, his lips curve into the biggest, most genuine grin.

"Are you kidding me?" he breathes, blue eyes shining. "That's great, ljubavi!"

Relief washes through you, the nerves fading away.

"You said in Barcelona you wanted to explore the world," he reminds you. "And now you get to do that. I'm so happy for you."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, before laying a tender kiss to your temple. Your heart swells, warmth spreading through you at his words and actions.

"It's not for sure yet, but Sam and I submitted our applications about a month and half ago," you say. "We should be hearing back any day now."

Axel nods leaning back against the headboard.

"You both will get in, I have no doubts," he assures you. "How is her boyfriend's mom?"

You smile grabbing your phone to pull up pictures from the group chat with all of your friends.

"She's doing so good," you gush pressing on the new photos of Miguel's baby sister. "Miguel and Robby became big brothers just 2 weeks ago."

Axel smiles as you scroll through the photos of baby Laura, pointing out how small and cute she is to him.

"Thanks for asking," you say appreciating the fact that he cared enough to remember about your friends.

"Well maybe after tournament, I can meet your friends, and your mom," he suggests. One thing that stood out to Axel about you was the love and care you held for those around you.

He wanted to be apart of that too.

"I'd love that," you grin. "I should probably warn you about my mom though... she'll love you."

Axel laughs sinking down into the pillows, tugging you along with him.

"I can't wait," he says lowly, brushing his lips against your nose.

And neither could you.

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

You decide against spending the night at the hotel filled with the competition, and not wanting to wake up feeling unprepared.

Besides your jet lagged boyfriend fell asleep the minute the clock struck 10 pm.

Making your way into the elevator, you fiddle with your car keys, already reminiscing the last few hours you had with Axel.

Consumed by your thoughts, you don't notice the tiny girl that's slipped in beside you.

"I hope you enjoyed your time with him, it won't last very long after this."

Glancing to your left you see Zara standing next to you, her arms crossed. You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes.

"You don't know what you're talking about," you say lowly, your eyes staying in the doors in front of you.

Zara lets out a chuckle, take a step in front of you.

"Axel might want you now," she continues, her tone dripping with satisfaction, "but want isn’t everything. Loyalty is. And his loyalty?”

She’s staring at you with intense eyes, her hands on hips. “That belongs to us, his team, his sensei, the Iron Dragons."

She lets the words sink in before adding, "Not you."

Your jaw tightens. You know she’s trying to get in your head, but that doesn’t stop the sting of her words from settling uncomfortably in your chest.

"Axel and I know where we stand," you try to say coolly. "Nothing you say changes that."

The elevator dings, doors sliding open. Zara steps out first, turning over her shoulder with one last smirk. "You're just a distraction, sweetheart. So enjoy your time while it lasts."

With that, she disappears down the hall, leaving you standing frozen in the elevator, your stomach twisting.

You know what she says isn't true, Axel cares for you. He wants to be a part of your life, beyond just stolen moments and FaceTime calls.

But her words cling to you, whispering doubts you can’t quite shake.

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

part 5

Tag List: @karmaswitch @babylambdietcoke @fallout-girl219 @maryb4h @ggrgcribg

(a/n: we backkkk wasn't sure if the same people still wanted to be tagged, but tagged y'all anyways. i needed to get this going before i got distracted with the other amazing requests im getting, so here's this part.)

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you overworking yourself (hyung line) !

pairings: hyung line x reader (stayed tuned for maknae line tomorrow!)

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 1.6k

cw: light cursing, overworking, fatigue, fainting

a/n: i had to cut this in half since it was getting too long and i wanted to make sure i posted today! i have NO idea why i made seungcheol's so long lmao. hope you enjoy kings ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ also, i will be closing my requests so i can catch up on them over the weekend, i'll try to get them done by monday! thank you for all the support, it means so much to me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

seungcheol - seungcheol is livid. you're still at your second part-time job when seungcheol calls you, "send me your location, y/n." you didn't tell seungcheol you had taken on a second job. you've never been comfortable with money, always having to work multiple jobs to stay afloat. that was until you met seungcheol, and since then he's always taken care of your expenses, even offering to pay for part of your tuition, and you decided it was enough. you didn't want for your (millionaire) boyfriend to think you were using him, so you told him you took on some evening classes.

today, you're covering someone else's shift. originally, you weren't going to, but after their promise of sending you a little extra money for it, you accepted.

"cheol, i told you i'm-"

"at class still? don't bullshit me, y/n. you didn't take on any new classes, you left your paper schedule on the counter."

your stomach drops. damn, you must be stupid. "y/n, what are you really doing?" he asks, almost pleading. there's absolutely no fighting it at that point, "i'm... at work. shift just ended, i'll send you my location." in defeat, you sit on a barstool at the restaurant and wait for seungcheol.

when he walks in, his eyes are immediately on you. walking over and grabbing your hand. "let's go," is all he says. the car ride is silent with tension; he only asks about it once you two are both home. "why? y/n there's no reason for you to be working another job. i'm right here; if you needed financial help, i could've helped you." he says gently, trying to maintain his frustration, but his brows are furrowed, exposing his true emotions.

"that's just the thing seungcheol, you're always here to help me. i don't want to use you because i can't support myself." you reason, but seungcheol obviously isn't buying it. "y/n, you're not using me, even if you did i wouldn't care. i don't want to watch you struggle when i know i can help." he takes your hand into his own. "don't do this to yourself, please. i love you too much to let this keep going." looks like you're quitting that job.

jeonghan - you and jeonghan are walking home from your date night. it's supposed to be romantic, you two walking hand in hand, but you're feeling the weight of the all nighters you've been pulling all week to finish your project, walking wobbily on the side walk.

"did you drink or something? you're walking a little funny babe." jeonghan teases before giving you a genuine look of concern. you try to laugh it off, "hah, maybe." but then your eyes start to droop ever so slowly. jeonghan notices, "have you been sleeping?" damn. did your concealer wear off or something? you're about to respond, but your legs give out and jeonghan catches you before everything goes dark.

you wake up on the couch, tucked in with a blanket with jeonghan caressing your forehead lovingly. "so i'm guessing the answer to my question is no," jeonghan murmurs, giggiling. "but seriously y/n- don't scare me like that," he adds. "i know i know, sorry-" you say, trying to sit up, but jeonghan interupts. "i don't think so, you need to rest baby," he gently pushes you back down before joining you on the couch. "we'll talk about this seriously later, let's just sleep for now." wrapping his arms around you, leaving you no choice but to comply.

joshua - joshua wants to trust you, knowing that you're fully capable of taking care of yourself, but he can't help but worry when he looks over at you. you've been sitting at your desk for hours now, trying to finish all your assignments before the end of the grading period.

he walks over, putting his hands on your shoulders and massaging them. "you've been working for a bit, love. how about a break?" he suggests. you turn around, giving him a small smile, "i really would shua, but i've got like 2 hours till this is due. just let me finish this and i'll take a break." he frowns, "you promise?" "i promise," he hums in response, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before retreating to whatever he was doing.

2 hours later, joshua is back at your desk, only to find you slumped over your papers. he sighs, shaking his head before taking a look at your laptop. "hm, looks like you made the deadline," he says softly, gently shaking you awake.

"you did it, love. i'm proud of you, but i don't want you doing this often- it makes me worried." he murmurs, "come on, you need to take your well deserved break in a more comfortable space," taking your hand and guiding you to your room.

jun - honestly he gets it, between his singing and acting career, he knows what it's like to always feel like you're on the clock. he still doesn't approve of this though.

you just got home from working over time, it's 11:35- you both should be asleep, but he's waiting for you on the couch. looking at you, his heart breaks, noticing the eyebags, the bad posture, the way you're barely holding onto your bag, all of it. he makes his way over to you.

"oh, y/n," you don't process what's happening, about 30 seconds from fall asleep as he holds you. taking your bag from your hand, he then ushers you toward the couch. he helps you take off your jacket and shoes.

"do you want something to eat? water?" he asks while laying you down. you shake your head, but he still hands you a waterbottle anyway. "i'm always scared when you're like this bǎo bèi," he comments softly. "please take care of yourself, but if you can't, i'll be here." he gives you a kiss before laying your head down, falling asleep almost immediately.

hoshi - hoshi is nothing short of assertive, literally showing up to your job. "soonyoung, what are you-" "do you know what time it is? i'm taking you home." he leaves no room for argument as he drags you out of your work place. you're going to need to explain this to your manager.

"i'm not letting you do this to yourself, y/n. it's late. why are you still trying to work at this hour?" he asks, frustrated. "soonyoung, you know why. i don't have a roommate anymore; i can't pay rent with one income." he sighs, "i know, but you just look so- i don't know- tired now. i can help y/n, just let me."

there's no talking your way out of this, you just let him drag you all the way back to your apartment while rambling about how bad working late could be for your health: what if someone kidnaps you on the way home? what if you faint while you're walking up the stairs because you're so tired? what if you're so sleepy you don't notice someone walking by and you run into them and fall into a storm drain?

wonwoo - he doesn't scold you, but he'll get all nerdy and tell you terrible facts about not taking care of yourself.

you're bent over your laptop, trying to finish a whole group project on your own since you got assigned terrible partners. he sits down besides you, whispering in your ear, "keep sitting like that, and you won't be able to walk properly at 40," you scoff, but adjust your posture anyway, you don't want to test this guy. smiling in victory, he kisses you before walking away, reminding you to take a break.

you don't listen to him though, getting carried away in your work. wonwoo comes back every so often to tell you that your brain will start eating itself because you haven't eaten, you'll get terrible wrinkles because you're dehydrated, all that stuff.

once you're finally done and in bed, he scolds you, of course. "i know you think i'm joking, but i'm not y/n. this isn't good for you, next time you do this, i'm forcing you to stop, okay?" he strokes your hair and gives you a kiss. "i love you a lot, so take good care of yourself, can't have you dying on me."

woozi - out of all the members, he's definitely the one who relates to you the most. he knows you'll drown out the sound of people telling you to take breaks, so he takes things into his own hands.

you're working at your desk when woozi turns your chair around and grabs your hand, dragging you to the couch. you try to argue, you really need to finish this so your group doesn't fall behind on the project, but he doesn't take no for an answer.

"shush y/n, just let me talk." he starts, "i know what it's like, i really do. you feel like everyone is depending on you, and maybe they are, but you don't have to do it all alone," when you try to dismiss him and get back to work, he's actually pinning you to the couch. in any other circumstance, you'd be turned the hell on... but he's serious about this. "listen, stop trying to shut me out y/n. i'm someone you can rely on, and i want you to. don't do this to yourself, i won't let you."

you nod in agreement. "good, now let's just stay here for a second," he lays on top of you, trapping you under him so there's nothing you can do but rest.

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Valley of Green

Megatron x Reader (+ soft Optimus Prime) - transformers prime

“I’m sorry,” you say, tearing at a few strands of grass, your hand quickly filling up with them. Optimus watches you, sitting beside you on the green hill overlooking the sparsely forested valley.

“Of what are you apologising for, y/n?” asked he, laying a servo upon the ground to lean slightly to the side, getting a better view of you; sitting atop your flowered picnic blanket.

“For being unable to make Megatron turn away from the path of destruction,” you said, dropping the fistful of grass before plucking a few of the nearby flowers. “I… I didn’t try to stop him when he told me we shouldn’t meet again. Honestly, I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. I was just so…” you sigh, frustrated by yourself and how your heart still ached, “I feel so stupid. How could a human like me change someone like him?”

“Don’t speak so lowly of yourself,” said Optimus, chiding you softly, though there was no bite to his tone. He was as gentle as always. “I do not believe this separation will last, even as it relieves me to know that you are safe, but Megatron does not give up so easily,” said he, turning to look at a flock of songbirds flying by, their melodies seeming to echo between the mountains, “I believe his feelings for you are true, and that with this hour of severance, he will have much to think of. It is ever in my hope that he will turn towards the path of redemption, but we must also be prepared for the opposite.” He turned to look at you again, your eyes locking with his optics. “I do not wish to crush your hope, but we cannot ignore the possibility that Megatron will attempt to claim you along with this Earth.”

You are momentarily stunned by his honesty, so used to him keeping harder feelings to himself in hopes of sparing his team, but your growing friendship seems to reward you greatly for you see the truth in his optics, and though it stings your heart to think of it, you know you cannot ignore that fact.

“Thank you,” you say after a moment of hesitation, glancing away only for a second before giving him a lopsided smile. “I appreciate your honesty, Optimus. I… The fact that Megatron was so insistent about me giving up my human body hasn’t ever left my mind, and it is a reason for as to why I feel so conflicted. I…” you look away, shame washing over you, “I still care for him. God, I wish I didn’t sometimes, but the thought of never seeing him again breaks my heart so terribly I feel as though I’ll weep until my death, and it’s so—”

“Pure,” said Optimus, smiling down at you. “What you are feeling is pure, and you should not feel ashamed of it. It is…” he looked down at the flowers in your lap, delicate daisies, “It is beautiful.”

Your cheeks redden and you glance up at him again, huffing a breathy laugh as you refocus on the collected daisies in your hands, working the stems into a crown. “… thank you,” you mutter, clearing your throat to rid yourself of any lingering awkwardness.

Standing up, you shake your head and send Optimus a big smile. “Lower your head for me, please.”

Tilting his helm in curiosity, he bends forward to heed your request, yet you wave him to come closer, and he obeys, only understanding what you were planning to do once you reach up to slip the flower crown onto his right audial.

Blinking in surprise, he sees you step back, hands behind your back.

“I promote you to the status of my new best friend, Optimus Prime,” say you, smile bright and wide, heartbreak momentarily forgotten. You force yourself to focus on this hour, for while you fight with the love you feel for Megatron, you do not wish to neglect the love you feel for Optimus; his friendship is worth more than gold and diamonds combined.

Optimus feels a sudden urge to laugh, the jolt of joy in his spark so unexpected, but he instead smiles a little wider for you, and with a servo laid upon his chassis, he says: “I am deeply honoured, my friend.”

And he was, he truly was.

Previous / Next Music: Vangelis – Pinta, Nina, Santa Maria

[lire-casander]

For the dialogue asks, 8?

8. "I couldn't hold it in any longer."

It’s mumbled, in a way Charles never speaks—in half words and whispered hushes, which coming from the mostly obnoxious ghost Edwin has ever met—making it almost impossible to discern what has been uttered. And it comes after a shocking event such as him dropping a kiss on top of Edwin’s head, nonchalant and almost like an afterthought.

But Edwin has a very fine ear, and he is pretty sure of what he has heard. Still, being sure does not mean he is right, so he pauses the menial task he has been doing—research of ancient runes for a new case—and lifts his head, enunciating carefully. “Did you just say that you love me?”

Charles stills, his features frozen. He does not say anything at first, so Edwin must insist. However, he is not keen on repeating himself, so he just looks up at his partner and asks, with a quirked eyebrow, “Charles?”

But Charles is not saying anything. His silence is beginning to trouble Edwin; Charles is not known for being quiet—he is the most talkative ghost Edwin has ever met—and him not replying is more than a little worrisome.

He stands up, his book long forgotten as he manoeuvres in the limited space left between the desk and Charles’s incorporeal body—and isn’t it a contradiction, Edwin muses, although he files it away to reflect on it much, much later. He longs for touching, but he does not initiate it yet, far too self-conscious to even think about it.

“Charles,” he says in what he hopes is a soothing voice. His partner tries to hide away; Edwin reaches out to him, a hand landing on Charles’s shoulder effectively stopping him.

“Forget about it,” Charles mutters. He is still looking away, but Edwin’s touch is keeping him in place. “It’s nothing.”

“It is evidently not nothing,” Edwin assures him. “You do not get so worked up about nothing. I am not upset,” he continues, as though the idea has just come to his mind, “if that is what you are worried about. How could I be? I know you love me.”

“But not like that,” Charles says, voice small in a way Edwin has only heard once before—back in Hell. “I’m sorry.”

“Please do not be sorry,” Edwin replies softly. “It is me who should be sorry for having placed such a burden on your shoulders with my—confession. I hope you know I do not expect you to reciprocate in any—”

Charles huffs, shaking his head, and he finally looks back at Edwin. The sheer force he sees in those chocolate eyes makes Edwin’s non-existent heartbeat stutter, his words faltering, and then Charles does something completely unexpected.

He lunges forward and kisses Edwin, soft and sweet and everything.

“I couldn’t hold it in any longer,” Charles mumbles against Edwin’s lips before kissing him again, and again, and again. “Please never hold out on me again,” Edwin whispers back, drunk on love.

send me a dialogue response prompt!

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 17/?)

Series Masterlist

116 ac

Daemons pov

I storm into my tent after beating that messenger. 

My brother thinks he can kick me out of his court, and as soon as glory is on the horizon take what I earned? My glory? No, I'll make a fool of him. I think as I throw my helmet onto my bed where a little squeak comes. 

I turn to see the whore I brought to my bed last night still there. She isn't what I usually go for with her freckled skin and flaming orange hair. But when you're on a battlefield you don't get too choosy with a willing cunt.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask in an annoyed tone which makes her eyes go big.

“I-I was asleep.” She says quickly as she reaches for her loose fitting linen dress. 

I take in the style of dress and remember she isn't a whore but one of the lords personal maids. 

Same difference. I think as I turn away from her as she continues to apologize and clumsily puts her clothes back on. 

“Just go, I don't have time for this.” I hiss which makes her quickly scurry out of the tent with one final sorry leaving her lips. 

I look down at my battle plan and sigh in defeat. 

It truly is a suicide mission. 

I sit there for a while calculating what needs to be done and what doesn't when someone calls for me from outside my tent. 

“A letter for you, my Prince.” The boy says and I can't help but roll my eyes. 

“Yes I am well aware.” I respond in a tone I know has this boy shaking in his little boots. 

But strangely he stays. “I think you'll want  to see this one, my Prince. It's from the Princess.” 

I freeze, turning to look back at the boy who holds a scroll. 

“Which one?” I ask even though I already know. 

“Only one of them sends you letters regularly at that.” He says holding it out for me. 

I snatch it from him waving him away as I look down at the seal. 

It's yours. You had gotten a wax seal at some point, most likely because my brother was tired of you asking to use his. It's the Targaryen symbol, but you never use red or black, always pink or purple, sometimes even white. 

Never did like our harsh colors. I think with a smile as I move over to my desk, setting your letter down. 

I then sit down and open a drawer where I keep each and every one of your letters. They are one of the only things that keep me going, but also one of the things that gives me the most grief. For with each letter I see you grow, mature, but I can't see you do it, only through your words. 

I grab your first letter quickly, it's so worn down from how often I open and close it but I don't care. It's important. 

I open it with care making sure the now flimsy paper doesn't tear and read your scribbled words. 

Dear Kepus

I miss you. A lot. Papa doesn't talk to me anymore, not even at super. Nyra says mean things. Like how I'm not needed here. Why doesn't she love me? Did I do something bad? Why did Papa make you leave? Why won't you come back? I have so many questions but no one wants to answer them. 

Papa says I'm gonna be heir. That it's important that I am. But I don't want to be heir. I want to be me. 

I miss you. Please write back soon. 

I always have to push back tears when I read this. You were so young, so confused. But it also always brings a smile to my face seeing your scribbled writing and the random drops of ink as you learned how to use a quill. 

I reach for another letter, one that always seems to make my blood boil. 

Dear Kepus

Aegon's one today, he's adorable. Papa has a large feast planned to celebrate him. There will be jesters, actors, and some people called acrobats. It's suppose to be lots of fun. 

I requested a new dress for it, Papa said yes. But I'm confused, all the fabrics are red or black. I had asked for a pink or purple dress. When I asked Papa he said I have to wear our house colors now. So I make us look strong and united. I'm not sure how a dress will do this but he seems sure it will. 

What do you think? Is a red dress really going to change so much over a purple one? 

I know you don't like me asking, but I need to know. How is the war going? Are you alright? You're not hurt or injured are you? I'm so worried about you I have a hard time sleeping, especially when Papa’s council talks about how horrible it's going. 

Please say you're alright. And tell the truth this time, because I know your shoulder got hurt. Papa got a letter from Lord Corlys, Laena’s Papa. It said your chest was burned, bad. That you almost died because of the injury. So no lying, didn't anyone teach you that's rude? 

I miss you, please write soon. 

I sigh when I finish the letter. I always felt like this was the beginning of Viserys' changes of you. It didn't take long for that day on for you to always get a new red dress. It broke my heart because though I always thought red was your color you never cared for it much. Preferring pink, purple, blue, even yellow over our house colors. 

He's trying to make you into what he wants you to be, and it infuriates me. But what kills me is that you know of my pain. I swore I would come back, I could only imagine the fear you felt in that moment. Perhaps even the betrayal. 

And with that thought I break the wax seal and slowly open your latest letter.

Dear Kepus

I'm ten now, and there was a huge celebration. I got to wear a white dress with red Myrish lace. Ali said I looked ethereal and Father said I looked lovely. There were a lot of people there, most I didn't know but they said nice things and gave gifts. But sadly I didn't get the one I wanted. My book about Daenys is falling apart. The maesters say I should just get a new one. But I don't know where you got this one, and neither does Father. He says I don't need the pictures but I love them. Do you think you could tell me where you got the book? I just want to read my favorite story again. 

Aegon is three, he's always running. Father says that's because he's a boy, but I think it's just because he's Aegon. He's been sad though, his egg hasn't hatched. Rhaenyra gave it from Syrax's clutch but for some reason it just won't hatch. Maybe when you get back you can look at it and see why. 

Have I told you about Helaena? She's so cute! She has chubby cheeks, silver hair, and violet eyes. They look so different compared to Aegon's periwinkle ones. She likes quiet though, and Aegon likes to be loud. So she gets startled a lot, but we're trying to explain that he needs to be calmer around Helaena. It's a slow process though because so used to being as loud as he wants. It's a big change for him.

Stormchaser laid another clutch, but they were all stone again. I don't know why, when she and Caraxes were together they were all perfect. But now they are all stone and she's so sad. It hurts seeing her so sad without Caraxes. 

One last thing, Father wants to reinstate me as heir. But he wants you here when he does it. So he said he's bringing tropes to help you. Be nice to them, they're just trying to help. 

I miss you, come home soon.

I sigh and look down thinking over each word. I can't help but chuckle about your book. You had always loved Daenys, if people thought Rhaenyra loved Visenya they haven't seen nor heard you talk about Daenys the Dreamer.

She is your idol, in your words. She saved us so we can be here today. I can't remember how many spats you and Rhaenyra have had over who was more important in the Targaryen family. But at the end of the day, I have to agree with you. If it weren't for Daenys our house would be ash in the wind never to be heard of again like so many other Valyrian houses. 

But something I've noticed is how in each letter since you've gotten your younger siblings, you always want to talk about them. You truly are just an excited big sister wanting to show off her younger siblings. 

Though the thing that hurts most is watching you grow only through your writing. How things used to be so misspelled and scratchy upon the paper is now refined and perfectly spelled. It hurts not knowing how you look now and only having the frail little girl who screamed for me to come back to remember as my last memory of your face. 

But three things stuck out to me, your dragon hasn't been laying viable eggs ever since I and Caraxes left. And then there is the fact your Father is trying to use you to make me behave. And sadly it's working  But the thing that sticks out the most is your last line. 

I miss you, come home soon. 

You have never sent this, it was always write soon, never come home. And for some reason, that one line makes me stand up and look at the battle plan one last time. 

It isn't the worst plan I've seen. I think before walking out of my tent towards Lord Corlys to get our troops moving to their correct places. 

Your pov

I sit on the settee holding Helaena. She looks adorable with her chubby cheeks and dark violet eyes that almost look like wine. 

“She's so quiet. I thought she would do more.” Aegon says from beside me. He looks down at her with curiosity and apprehension because when he plays she usually starts crying. 

I turn to look at him as he assesses Helaena with a wary look. 

“You were like this, you just screamed more.” I tease which makes him gasp with his eyes wide and a scowl on his lips making it very clear his dislike of my words. 

“I did not!” He yells but thankfully it doesn't startle Helaena this time. 

“Well do you remember what you were like, my Love?” Ali asks from her spot in front of her vanity. Her maids braid her hair in intricate designs. 

Something fit for a Queen. The words Father always says each time he watches my maids braid mine. He says they have to look perfect or else it will give or house judgment. I'm not sure how hair or dresses changes so much in the way the court looks at our house but Father is insistent. 

“Well, no, but I don't scream.” Aegon says animatedly. This time a whimper comes from Helaena at his raised voice. 

“Of course you don't.” Ali says with a teasing grin before standing up and walking towards us. She takes one look at Helaena's scrunched up face and reaches down to pick her up. “And what have I said about keeping your voice down while Helaena sleeps?” 

Aegon looks down at the gentle reminder. “To try and be calm. Sorry Mama, I really am trying.” He says as his lower lip wobbles. 

“I know you are, and you're doing so well. I know it's hard to real in all your joy.” She says as she strokes her fingers through his hair calming him down. 

He looks up with a pout while nodding his head. “Yeah.” Is all he says as he leans into Ali's touch. 

I look up at her taking in her dress that is black with a red bodice and long red sleeves. She looks beautiful in it, but it doesn't feel like it was made for her.

I then look down at my dress that is a deep scarlet with gold embroidery of flowers along the sleeves and bodice. It's also a very beautiful dress, but just like Ali's it just isn't me. 

“Your sister sent a raven, she says there has yet to be a match made and that she is…enjoying this trip. She should be at Storms End now as we speak.” Ali says and I can tell she changed a lot of words from what Rhaenyra actually sent. 

“I'm glad she's enjoying it.” Is all I say before turning to look at the books I need to study. 

Can't hold Helaena forever, you have to get this done. I think before picking up the book on how to sit on the throne properly. I never realized there were so many ways to do this wrong, but supposedly Maester Huebert does. 

“Has your Uncle sent anything back yet?” Ali says as she tries and calms Helaena down after a maid accidentally dropped a chamber pot. Thankfully it was clean. 

“No, not yet, though it usually takes a bit because of the war.” I say with a frown. It's been two weeks since I sent my raven. I know I should be patient but the last time he took this long he got hurt. And some part of me worries if he is even alive.

No you would know if he died, you would know. I think with urgency hoping to throw that awful thought out of my mind for good. 

Just as I think this a resounding screech reaches my ears. 

I know that sounds. I think clambering towards the window to see if my kind is playing tricks on me or not. 

“What's that long red thing?” I hear Aegon say and I know that what I'm seeing is true. 

“He's back.” I whisper to myself before turning to Ali who whispers to her maids. 

“I am needed in the throne room, you three stay here. Though your Father may wish for you to come as well but as of now stay here and watch after your siblings and study.” She says before walking out of her chambers.

I have to force myself to not run after her. Because I know why she made me stay. Just because Caraxes is back, doesn't mean Kepus is. And she doesn't want me to get hurt hoping he's back. 

So instead I turn towards Aegon who stares at the door confused and hold a hand out for him. 

“Why don't you practice your letters while I study? It could be fun.” I suggest and I can tell he doesn't like the idea but he nods anyways taking my hand as we walk back to the settee. 

Please be back, please be alive. I pray hoping that whatever gods are out there hear me and make my prayers come true. 

I feel tense as I walk towards the royal gardens. I can't help but try and remember what he looked like but all I get is hazy images and it hurts not knowing what he looked like. I dare not even try and remember what Mama looked like, for I know it will only shatter my heart completely. 

I look down at my bracelet taking in the pearls and rubies. I then fiddle with my necklace trying to see if these items will make any memories of his face rise up. But it is futile, it's been too long since I've seen his face to know exactly what he looked like. 

So instead I decide to stand straight and walk into the gardens as was my Father's request. 

When I do I notice all the Lords and Ladies whispering and glancing towards Ali, Father, someone who I know has to be Rhaenyra but that can't be right because she's supposed to be at Storms End, and a man who in the deepest parts of my soul I know is my Kepus. 

I don't hesitate to walk towards them, only catching the end of Father's jest. 

“You were always Mother’s favorite, she was wild and free and sadly I was no great warrior.” 

I go to speak but Rhaenyra beats me to it. 

“It's wonderful to see you Uncle.” 

I frown at the way she looks at him, the way her eyes flutter and she gently bites her lip before releasing it. 

I may be young but I know she is trying to flirt or seduce Kepus. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. But what I also notice is how tense the atmosphere becomes with just those simple words. 

She wasn't supposed to be back, Father must be livid. I think, eyeing him and quickly notice the scowl that overtakes his usually calm and collected features. 

“Thank you Niece.” He says with a tight smile before he turns and looks down at me. 

I freeze, not sure how to start the conversation. It's been so long that I have only been able to hear his words through ravens that now that I may actually talk to him the words are missing. 

“Would you like to see the tapestries? We have just received some from Myr.” Ali says with a pinched smile obviously not liking how much wine Father has drunk already. 

I smile excited to show him my favorites when Father bursts out laughing.

“Would you like to see them? Would you?” He asks in an obvious jesting tone. “He has no interest in such things.” He says with a dismissive wave. 

“I would like to see them.” Rhaenyra says out of nowhere staring at Father with that look that usually means she wants to start an argument. 

“Oh well then deprive yourself.” Father says waving her off. 

I've never seen nor heard him speak to Rhaenyra like this so I'm shocked, frozen in place hoping if I do not speak or move I will not be the object of their wrath next. 

Thankfully Rhaenyra walks away with a huff sitting on a bench as she inspects her nails. 

“Do not worry, your Father is only a bit…disoriented. He does not mean his harsh words.” Ali says, noticing my tense shoulders before she decides to walk over to Rhaenyra. 

And once I'm alone between my obviously drunk Father, and my Kepus who I haven't spoken to in years. Well it is an easy choice to try and find Laena and Nymeria. 

So with a quick curtsy I turn and walk towards the food table where Laena and Nymeria seem to be bickering. 

“Lemon cake is obviously the better choice.” Nymeria says before biting into one with a triumphant smirk. 

“Please, raspberry crumble is the best.” Laena responds before taking a bite of her sweet treat. 

I watch them stare each other down before clearing my throat and making them gasp and turn to face me before they quickly relax. 

“Which do you think is better!” They say at the same time only ti turn to the other and glare once more.

I stop for a second before moving forward and picking up a honey cake. 

“I much prefer the honey cakes.” I say, eyeing them as I take a bite letting the sweet flavor of honey and sugar fill my pallet. “Maybe instead of fighting over which is the best, we all just agree we like different things?” I suggest which seems to work until Nymeria whispers to herself and the argument starts up again. 

I look down and sigh in annoyance, this is not what I was hoping for when I wanted to escape the tension of my family. 

So just as quickly as I sought them out, I walked away for some solitude. Though I never am truly alone, for the clank of armor follows after me and I know who it is. 

I take a seat on a bench looking at the weirwood tree wondering how best to approach Kepus. When I hear Ssr Criston finally stop behind me I turn to look up at him. 

“Why is it so hard to talk to him? We sent letters for all those years, so why can't I speak to him?” I ask as tears rim my eyes that I fight to push down. 

An heir cannot look weak. I think wiping at my eyes fervently. 

He sighs with a look that almost seems pained. Like seeing me so hurt and confused hurts him. But why would it? It isn't him that is feeling this way. 

“Mayhaps because of the letters.” He says with a look of pity. 

Do not pity me, that means I'm weak and Father will hate me more. I think as I mull over his words. 

“What do you mean?” 

He looks up in thought before letting out a long sigh. “You didn't have to face him when you spoke your words. You didn't even need to speak them. You write all your thoughts down and send them to him. You didn't need to worry about his reaction because he wasn't in front of you.” He says before looking down at me again. “That is at least my guess, Your Grace.” 

I think over his words before looking at my Kepus who seems to he walking towards me. 

“Thank you, Ser Criston. You may leave me.” 

He gives a quick bow before walking a few paces away to give me and my Kepus privacy. 

“I was wondering where you had gone.” I hear him say. I remember that voice, the teasing lilt after each word. The way it always made me feel safe even now. 

But yet again no words leave me, I only look up at him fighting tears that demand to fall. 

Instead of speaking of my obvious hurt he sits next to me, warping an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to his chest. And without thought, without caring, I let all my pain, worry, and confusion out. 

He rubs my back gently telling me to ‘let it all out’. I know that if Father sees me in this state there will be more lessons on how to act among Lords and Ladies. But I don't care, because for the first time in a long time I feel completely and utterly safe. 

I don't know how long I cried, but what I do know is by the time I'm done I feel like all the weight has left my shoulders and I can finally breathe again. So I lift my head finding a clear wet spot on his jerkin and sit straight against the back of the bench once more. 

“I'm sorry.” I whisper looking down at my hands as I chew at my lip. 

“And what do you have to be sorry for?” He asks as he puts his forefinger under my chin to force me to look at him. 

I stop letting myself take in his features once more. 

He has a strong jaw that seems tense right now. High cheekbones, and his long straight nose. His hair is the same silver blonde as I remember, only it's shorter. But it's his eyes that I know, his eyes that I have always been able to remember. Those deep lilacs that always seem to have mischief in them as well as something darker, something dangerous. But that is never shown towards me and I never understood why. 

I'm brought back by the tapping of his finger on my chin. He seems almost amused which leads me to believe he caught me inspecting his features. 

“I ruined your jerkin.” I finally say which only makes him throw his head back laughing. “What's so funny?” I ask, confusion washing over my face. 

“I don't care about the jerkin, ñuha riña. What I'm more worried about is you.” He says and I can't help the way my heart squeezes in joy when he uses my nickname. 

“I'm fine.” I say but I can tell he knows it's a lie, I mean I did just sob into his chest so I can't blame him. 

He hums before picking something up from beside him. It is only now that I realize he was carrying something. 

“I heard you were in need of this. And who would I be if I didn't bring it to you?” and there in his James is a new copy of the story of Daenys the Dreamer and her brother husband Gaemon. 

“You found it.” I say in awe as I take it from him feeling the soft leather as I open the book to find all the same paintings and pictures that were in my old one. 

“Well you did ask me to.” He says in his teasing tone. 

“No, I asked you to tell me where to get it.” I correct with a cheeky grin. 

This makes him chuckle and I can't help but smile when his eyes crinkle in the way that always means he is happy. 

“Well you're welcome nonetheless.” 

I giggle flipping through the pages reading some of my favorite passages. We sit like this for a while, in silence. Not the kind where you feel stiff and like you can't breathe, the kind where you feel safe and loved. 

That is until I look up at him again and find him reading the book over my shoulder. 

“If you want to read it, get one yourself.” I scold holding the book to my chest. 

He raises a brow in shock giving me a playful smirk. 

“I'm sorry, you're right I will read one I paid for.” He says before taking the book back and starts reading it. 

“Hey!” I yell trying to reach for it but he holds it just out of my reach. 

“I'm doing what you told me to do, ñuha riña.” He says with what I've heard would be called a shit eating grin. 

“Please.” Is all I say holding my hands out for my book. I'm not sure if it will work until I look up at him and he seems so…soft. Like he can't say no to me in this moment. It's a strange feeling after so many years of having cold looks from everyone but Ali and my younger siblings. 

“Fine, but you better let me borrow it.” He says and I can't help but giggle because for some reason I know I will more than likely be reading it with him. 

“Agreed.” I hold my hand out for him to shake and he does before bending down to kiss my knuckles. 

The rest of the afternoon we spend reading or he's making me tell stories about the times when he was away. Like the first time I got to hold Aegon, or how many times have me and Laena almost given our parents heart attacks while flying. 

“Well it sounds like a lot happened while I was gone.” He says almost mournfully. And his face is grief stricken. I can't help but frown when I see it, he didn't want to leave. 

I can't help but kick myself for all the times I thought he left because he was tired of us. 

I decide to lean into him and hug him as tight as I can. “I missed you.” I say and for some reason he tenses at my words. Almost as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

I feel his arms wrap around mine as he kisses the crown of my head. “I missed you as well, ñuha riña.” 

But for some reason my mind decided to turn my head and I noticed Rhaenyra with her guard Ser Daniel Karstark. I frown at the way they look at each other. 

Rhaenyra is doing that eye thing again and he is brushing the hair from her shoulder. It looks like they are courting but that can't be right he's a Kingsguard. They can't marry anyone. 

But even though I know this, and I know they know this. I can't help but wonder if they care.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fiction! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @themoonlitquill @technicallylegendaryenemy @thelastemzy @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar

[broifreakingloveharleysawyer]

You’re Mine Germ

Harley Sawyer x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW, Smut, Oral (Male receiving), Harley being a possessive little shit, MAYBE a bit of yandere if it counts, Yarnaby being a little silly.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were known as Doctor Sawyer’s ‘helpful’ assistant, constantly having to deal with all the paperwork he has while he spends his days down in the lab, working on the Bigger Bodies Initiative.

A lot of the time, you were quite defiant against him, leading toward your impending ‘punishments’ that Harley inflicted on you. Usually these being some kind of act of pleasure aimed at him more than anything, he was a pleasure hogger, simple as that.

At around midday each day, you would accompany experiment 1166, Yarnaby, on his little stroll around the factory, you often came across your fellow colleagues, some of them even stopping to pet Yarnaby or to speak to you. And oh boy did you make Harley JEALOUS. He wasn’t a man who liked to share his toys, especially not HIS germ. How did he know, you’ve probably asked, well he may or may not have used his computer to hack into the security system to spy on keep an eye on you walk his prized experiment.

Anywho, when you got back to his office, he was leaning against his desk, his chin resting against the backs of his pale hands, clearly displeased with you. Shutting the door behind you, you let out a sigh as you closed the blinds, already knowing what’s about to happen.

“I suppose you know why I’m upset, don’t you, Germ.” He says staring coldly into your (e/c) eyes, a not so hidden intent underneath them. He beckons you over with a bony (hehe boner 😏) finger toward his desk. Oh boy…you were in for it.

“Because I talked to the other colleagues in here other than you, yeah I know the drill by now, Sawyer, I know you.” You immediately retort to him, crossing your arms against your chest, rolling your eyes as you reluctantly move toward his desk. You place your hands against the edge and lean over to where he was sitting, an almost perfect copy of his irritated expression etched onto your face.

Harley simply lets out a growl at this, grabbing your cheeks (NOT THOSE CHEEKS) and forcing your face towards him. “Do you have any idea how much time I’ve invested in you, only to have you thinking you can interact with the workers without consequence, well think again, Germ. I’m not as generous as you think.” His grip tightens, digging in hard enough to bruise, each word becoming more venomous than the last. “And don’t think you have such a privilege of using my name so informally, it’s Harley to you and that’s it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Oh please, Sawyer would be more formal than anything ‘cause I’m not using your first name, just suck it up DoCtOr SaWyEr because I’m not changing how I say people’s name-“ You were cut off by the feeling of his dry lips pressing aggressively against yours, pulling you into a deep, silencing kiss.

“Shut it, germ. I am your superior and you will treat me that way, or will I have to force down a greater punishment on you?” He spits out, moving his mouth down to your neck to trail open mouthed kisses to your shirt collar. “I own every part of you that's touched me. Every mark I've left, every cry you make- it’s mine…Are we both clear on that?”

“Hickeys are temporary, they don’t mean anything, plus anyone could make me “cry”, you’re not the only one who can do that, Sawyer.” You snap back, leaning back before being practically pulled across the desk and onto the other side.

“Temporary is a relative term, pet. Those marks may fade, but the memory of them never will. And as for your cries, they were a form of pleasure, were they not? Specifically made by ME. If you think anyone else could make you moan like that…You’re wrong…So deeply, utterly and hopelessly mistaken.” Harley huffs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he undid the first few buttons of your blouse.

Placing another set of possessive kisses down your collar, he finally pulls you down onto his lap, grabbing your (h/c) hair with his fist. “Now, be a good little germ, open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

You knew you weren’t going to get out of this without some sort of physical contact with Harley so you reluctantly opened your mouth. “Good girl for listening.” He praises before suddenly shoving two of his fingers into your mouth, pushing your tongue down to the base. “Keep them in there and don't move.”

You tried to speak but couldn’t due to the thick digits in your mouth, attempting to mock or insult him in some way about something…anything really.

“Ah ah ah, pet, no speaking. Now, let's get back to our little conversation. You were being very stubborn earlier, germ.” He says, his fingers moving slightly inside your mouth as he speaks, making it even more difficult for you to form words. “I think it's time I reminded you of your place around here.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a wet pop, releasing your hair and gesturing to the floor between his feet. “On your knees, now.” He commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. “And remember, pet, I don’t like to repeat myself twice.”

Knowing you had no other option, you slid off his lap and into the chair compartment under the desk, finding a somewhat comfortable space to place your knees for the time being. But that peace didn’t last long, as soon as you're on your knees, he reaches down and grabs a fistful of your hair once more, pulling your head back and forcing you to look up at him. "Good girl. Now, keep your eyes on me and your mouth open while I speak."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He smirks down at you, enjoying the sight of you kneeling before him with your mouth open and your eyes fixed on his face. “You see, germ, the thing is... I don't share well with others.” He begins, his other hand slowly unbuckling his belt. “And you in particular, are mine. Completely and utterly mine.” He says, his voice low and menacing as he pulls his belt free from his pants. “So if anyone were to try and take you from me…let’s just say they wouldn’t leave with both their limbs intact.”

After discarding his belt dismissively onto the hardwood floor, he leans back against his chair, “I hope we do understand the premises now, pet. Because if you ever even think about interacting with another worker on your own terms, there will be harsh punishment. Do I make myself clear, little germ?”

“Understood…Harley…” You mutter, still trying to keep your cocky and confident demeanour despite this humiliating pose. “But can we just skip straight to whatever you’re doing? I don’t need your dramatic monologue explaining what I’ve done wrong, I get it, I talked to a few colleagues while walking Yarnaby, big deal, and you-“

You were once again cut off by Harley, this time, shoving his fingers into your mouth once more. “To think I actually started to think you were being good…such a shame, pet, such a shame. I even considered going gentler this time, but you’ve just earned yourself a rather rough round, so thank youself for being such a brat.” He hisses as he begins to unzip his pants, keeping his grey eyes fixated on you in case you tried anything else.

Finally rid of his bottom half, Harley places his throbbing erection at your lips. “You are going to suck until I tell you to stop, am I understood? Or will I have to choke you until you’re begging for forgiveness.”

Muttering a few curses to yourself, you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin sucking, he wasn’t the biggest person you’d ever taken (sorry to all my virgin girlies out there) but he certainly wasn’t small either. You began to take his dick all the way to the base, lightly gagging on it, but not enough to make you start to fully choke.

“Fuck…only a few sucks in and you’re already bringing me to the edge, sometimes I forget how good of a pet you are.” He groans out, his hand covering part of his face as his chest rises and falls more rapidly than usual. “Maybe if you’re actually good I’ll give you a reward…”

As you continue to suck him off, he brings his hand back to your head and guided your head faster up and down on his cock, his groans becoming more breathy and frequent, his grip tightening and loosening each time you go deeper.

“Good girl, this is exactly why you’re mine, you’re the only one who can make me feel like this. And I’m the only one who can have you in this position. Got that?” He gasps out, his guidance becoming faster and sloppier. “F-fuck I’m going to cum, you can take it, can’t you, Germ? You can swallow all of it…”

Preparing yourself for his release, you bob your head a bit slower, enough to make him finish but enough to make sure nothing spills out. Letting out a final, surprisingly loud, moan, he shoots his load into your mouth, running a hand through his disheveled, black hair.

“Darling…I must admit I was quite pent up…thank you…” He mutters, his voice actually having a kinder tone for once, a very faint but visible smile on his face.

Wiping your mouth, you get out from under the desk, the desktop showing all of the security cameras visible. There you could see Yarnaby in the control room, chewing on some wires with his vertical mouth.

“Harley…”

“Yes, Germ?”

“Yarnaby is eating the wires in the control room.”

“I see…well I- Wait what?!”

He quickly fumbles to put his pants back on as he looks at the screen. “Godammit, Yarnaby! Not again!”

Well that’s one more thing you’re gonna have to deal with…

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[gallavichsreddie1128]

An Interesting Session (Hannibal)

Description: Y/N has a session with Hannibal that goes a completely different turn than what she’s expecting.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,115

Request:

Hey,

could you please write a Hannibal one-shot, where the reader was one of Will‘s best and favourite students. After a traumatic incident with a criminal out in the field, she needs to take a break, she starts to have therapy sessions with Hannibal and he takes a interest in her?(with smut?)

She stared at Will as he wrote down the name and the number of the therapist that he was recommending her too. It was her idea and Will understood completely. He too has had his fair shares of traumatic experiences with criminals. He almost didn’t want to send her over to him given what Will thinks about him but he promised himself that he would keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

She knew that the only way to cope with what she saw was to talk to someone that maybe could help her and Will was like a friend to her and she trusted him. “Here you go.” He handed her the paper, she looked at it and recognized the name, “Hannibal Lecter.” “You may have heard of him or even seen him.” He told her and she nodded. Yeah that’s what it is, this name was all too familiar to her. “Thank you.” She said and walked out of his classroom. 

She stared at the paper that Will gave her as it lay on her desk. She had no idea why but that name was familiar and she doesn’t recall seeing him. She grabbed her phone and entered the number before she could talk herself out of it. “Hello.” She sounded nervous as he answered the phone within 2 rings as if he was expecting her. “Hello, who am I speaking to?” He had a nice voice, a thick accident that she couldn’t place. She surely hadn’t heard him speak before.

“Hi uh my name is Y/N and Will Graham suggested you to me.” She told him. “Ah yes Will was telling me you would be calling.” Will told him about her? She didn’t have any words for that as she sat in silence. “Were you hoping to set up a session?” He asked and she nodded as if he could see her. “Yes.” She finally said, realizing her mistake. “I can do Wednesday at 11 am is that good?” He asked her. That was 2 days from now, that gave her plenty of time to prepare. “Yes.” She said and he chuckled, “See you then, Y/N.” He said before hanging up the phone. She sighed and put her phone down mentally cursing herself for being so nervous. 

It was Wednesday at 10:30 as she left her house and drove to his. Her GPS says that she should be there at 11:57. She didn’t wanna be late or too early so that was perfect. She couldn’t help but keep wandering back to the question of where she heard his name. She hadn’t met the guy at all nor heard him talk before the phone call. He seemed nice so she didn’t want to jump to any conclusion. She was so lost in thought she hadn’t realized how much time had passed and she was pulling up to his house.

Her eyes widened, this guy had to be rich. His house was huge and she saw the nice looking car, yeah he had money. She got out of the car and walked to the door. He had a doorbell but she decided to knock. She waited for him to come to the door, he opened it and she tried to keep her eyes from widening. He was very good looking but with the accident he has that was to be expected. “Hi you must be Y/N.” She nodded and he let her in. As they walked to his office that was upstairs she looked around at how big and perfect his house was. She wanted to ask about some of the art that was on the walls but her voice got caught in her throat.

He opened a door that revealed his office that was also nice. He motioned for her to take a seat and she did. Her body was stiff as she watched him sit down. He pulled out a notebook that she assumed was for notes and grabbed a pen. “Tell me Y/N what brings you here?” He asked her and she gulped. Should she start with the scene of the crime? Her mind wandered back to that day that brought her here. Will and her had come across a crime scene where the criminal was still there and he nearly got her killed. She shivered at the thought and was even more shook up that he wasn’t caught. Will thought she was ready for the bigger things but she thought she proved him wrong by that.

He told her that he reaction was normal to it but he was gonna let her rest awhile before bringing her onto another crime scene. As she told Hannibal all of the details she failed to notice him watching her with intense eyes as she spoke. Her hands moved as she talked, a habit she’s had since she was little but Hannibal took a liking to it. “Will tells me you are his best student.” He informs her and that brings a smile to her face. “He’s my favorite teacher.” she told him and he wrote that down. “How old are you, y/n?” He asked her and the question kind of took her off guard. “25.” She told him and he nodded before writing that down. “Have you ever been with an older man before?” What the hell did that have to do with her problems? She looked at him a little shocked that he would even ask that. “What does that have to do with the issue I have?” She almost seemed offended even if she did find him attractive.

“You don’t have an issue. Your reaction was normal. You just need a break from the crime scenes for now.” He told her and stood up. She stood up as well, thinking that the session was over but little did she know it was far from it. “You never answered my question.” He stated and it seemed as if he was trying to get closer to her. She wasn’t sure why he was so curious. “Is there a reason you want to know that?” He chuckled, “Ah yes a question to another question.” He was a foot away from her now and she felt like the temperature in the room had gone up a lot. “No I haven’t but I don’t see how that’s important.” She says and he inches closer but she doesn’t back away. She couldn’t even if she wanted to given the chair behind her.

“I think I have a way to take your mind off your stress.” He tells her and telling by the way his body language is she has a good idea of what it could be. “What’s that?” She asked as they were inches apart. He was tall compared to her but yet it still felt like they were almost face to face. “Care if I show you?” He asked and she nodded before his lips were on hers. She was in a state of shock but arousal was all through her body. She felt so warm and turned on as their lips moved together. She moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck standing on her tippy toes to deepen the kiss. What was gotten into her? She thinks as she kisses him harder. She wasn’t usually like this but there was something about him that was making her go crazy.

He grabbed her thighs and she jumped up wrapping her legs around him as they continued kissing. He pushed her against the wall deepening the kiss. Her hands went to his nice hair to mess it up. They finally pulled away to breath but he moved to her neck. She whimpered, feeling his lips suck on her neck, marking her. “Hannibal.” She whispered as he kissed back up her neck. “You’re very beautiful and I intend to take advantage of that.” He whispers before kissing her again. Her hands gripped his shoulders as he grinding his clothed dick against her. “Oh fuck.” She whispered as she could feel how big he was.

Dry humping was never her thing but she was so turned on right now she was taking what she could get. “I can feel how wet you are.” She was definitely soaked and it was enough to be through her clothes by now. He let her down so he could unzip her jeans and feel the wetness. She gasped as she felt his finger gather up the wetness of her pussy before he pushed in a finger and she threw her head back against the wall before gasping. Just one finger would be enough to make her cum. “You’re very tight.” He chuckled and felt around her wetness. “And very wet.” She begged that he do something. Her hands tugged at his dress shirt and he chuckled, “What do you want, Y/N?” He asked her and she whimpered.

“I want you inside of me.” She begged. He loved how desperate she sounded and how she was getting wetter and wetter. He pulled out his finger and tasted her. She watched with wide eyes as he did this. It was so hot, seeing him moan around his finger because of how good she tasted. She quickly got rid of her shirt and pulled her jeans down. He chuckled and undressed as well but not as desperate. He couldn’t wait to get inside of her pussy but he loved teasing her. She was naked and waited for him to give her the time of her life but he took his time undressing. “Hannibal please.” She begged and he finally removed all of his clothes. She wasn’t sure exactly how old he was but he was way older than her and looked amazing.

His body was making her drool and oh his dick was bigger than she imagined but she wasn’t complaining. She was ready for him. He kissed her again making her lose all the thoughts she had just had before she jumped into his arms again. His hard dick was now raw against her wet pussy. She was so needy that she tried to take him inside of her and whined when she couldn’t find the right angle. He chuckled and pumped himself a few times before helping her. He groaned himself at her wet pussy squeezing around him. She was so tight and warm, he could live like this. Her hands squeezed his shoulders as a plea to start moving.

She tried to make her hips but his hands stopped that and he began thrusting. She nearly screamed and cried as she finally got what she wanted. From the second she heard his voice she would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it. Hannibal watched as her eyes rolled and thought back to how she sounded on the phone, he had no idea she would be like this and was begging for him. His name was all she knew and moans were the only sounds she was making. His pounds pounding her into the wall as she screamed yes over and over again. He leaned in and kissed her neck again, finding the sweet spot that would make her fall apart.

“Hannibal, this is so good.” She whined and clawed at his back. He groaned at the feeling but loved it and how she felt. He moved his hands to cup her boobs, letting her thrust against him. She squeaked as he played with her sensitive nipples. Her climax just around the corner. He pulled away from her neck to watch her fall apart as he felt her pussy go crazy around him. She was gonna cum and she could tell it was going to be the best orgasm. Her breathing picked up as she whined loudly as she came all over his dick. Her hips stuttered as she rode the waves of pleasure.

He hugged her close as he grunted in her ear and came inside of her. She sighed and whimpered as they came down from their highs. His hands squeezed her ass making her giggle and she pulled away. “That was nice.” She told him and gave him a quick kiss. She tried to get down from his arms but he wouldn’t let her, “I’m not done with you yet.” He tells her and carries her to his chair that he was sitting in. He sat down with her on top and she got a look at what was on his desk. He had a file of the crime that she was at. She gasped as it finally clicked in her head where she had heard his name… Will thinks he did it.                                                            

[carpetbug]

WHAT DO YOU MEAAAAAANNNN I have to actually WRITE feline blue for people to know about it and be interested in it :/ guys read my brain already! can’t you see all of my incredibly coherent thoughts about bug boy and cat girl! sad face!

[masonsbf]

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