#silver drum table

[silly-artist]

Transitional Bedroom Dallas Mid-sized transitional guest carpeted bedroom photo with gray walls and no fireplace

[enought-ismytimetoshine]

Transitional Bedroom Dallas Mid-sized transitional guest carpeted bedroom photo with gray walls and no fireplace

[nihilminus]

Master in Tampa

Photo of a large island-style master bedroom with a brown floor and medium-tone wood floors and beige walls

[korunia]

Enclosed Living Room

Image of a medium-sized, modern, enclosed living room with white walls

[fysanayairani]

Master in Tampa

Photo of a large island-style master bedroom with a brown floor and medium-tone wood floors and beige walls

[qinzimos]

Philadelphia Open Family Room An illustration of a mid-sized transitional open concept family room with a dark wood floor, a wall-mounted tv, and colorful walls.

[heartfeltsylvia]

Master - Bedroom Photo of a large island-style master bedroom with a brown floor and medium-tone wood floors and beige walls

[kingkatsuki]

— come

Toge was always so careful and meticulous about using his cursed speech, not wanting to impact himself or his friends. But when you’re out getting drunk in an attempt to forget your asshole of an ex-boyfriend, and he’s trying to get you home a certain word slips out and it doesn’t quite have the intended effect.

Thanks to the cum/come discourse for sparking this idea.

Pairing: Inumaki Toge x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, dubious consent (to be safe— Toge uses his cursed speech on reader without consent but she likes it), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public setting, unestablished relationship, intoxication.

Word Count: 3k.

You didn’t expect your weekend to end like this. Saturday evening you’d been happily planning a holiday with your boyfriend, and then by Sunday morning, you’d broken up. His speech had started with an “it’s not you, it’s me” before you’d ended up throwing him out of your house and calling your best friend Maki. 

And that’s how you’d found yourself in some shitty bar in a rough part of town on a fucking Sunday evening as you throw back drinks to try to numb the pain. It was surprisingly busy inside the dingy bar, and you were just glad it wasn’t one of the band nights they seemingly had each weekend if the obnoxious posters splashed all over the walls were anything to go by. The loud music pounding through the speakers was enough to set the vibe without being so overbearing that it vibrated through to your skull. 

Being with your friends arguably made things worse as you glanced across the table at Maki and Nobara who were so clearly in love— why couldn’t you have something like that? 

Lamenting softly you eyed your empty glass before honing in on the warm dregs for Yuuta’s fruity cocktail. Watered down by melting ice as you slurped the rest of it back through his straw, left making an irritating noise as you tried to get every last drop of alcohol from the bottom of the glass. 

“Yeah, I think you got it all.” Megumi groaned in irritation as he took the hurricane glass out of your grasp, placing it back in front of Yuuta as he rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get another one.” You huffed, tapping his thigh to let you out of the booth as he moved to stand. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Megumi countered but did not attempt to stop you as you approached the bar. Clumsily weaving through the other patrons who loitered around the area with drinks in hand, as you narrowly missed walking into a guy holding two beers. 

Toge watched you closely as you made a beeline for the bar. He was just happy to be here with you at first, nursing his beer as condensation began to ripple down the bottle as the liquid built to room temperature. The blunt nail on his thumb scratched at the damp silver Asahi label as he languidly peeled it from the bottle. His eyes focused on you as you leaned over the bar to order another round of shots, your skirt raised just enough that he could probably get a peek of the panties you were wearing tonight — not that he hadn’t accidentally snuck a glimpse when you’d crossed your legs on the train into the city earlier (pink, they were pink) — but this meant if he could see your panties now so could any other pervert in this dingy dive bar. 

Fuck. 

“Toge?” Yuuji calls, “Where are you going?” 

Toge waves him off as he moves on instinct. Abandoning his long-forgotten beer as he navigates himself through the crowd towards you, violet eyes glancing at a man who was clearly checking you out as his brows creased into a frown. Deliberately coming to stand behind you to hide your ass from the perverts in the room as he lays a gentle hand on the small of your back. 

It’s the way your eyes light up when you see him that has his heart thunderous in his chest, so loud he thinks you could probably hear it over the abrasive drum and bass track that was currently playing. 

“Toge!” You turn to greet him, as though you weren’t just sitting beside him in the booth moments earlier. 

“Takana?” He looked at you with concerned eyes as your smile faltered. 

You’d definitely had too much to drink.

“But I don’t wanna leave yet, Toge.” You pouted at his question, your arms immediately curled around his shoulders as he had to take a step back to prevent his increasingly evident bulge from pressing against your front, “And I just ordered us more shots!”

“Okaka.“ Toge frowned, already certain you wouldn’t be able to stand if you had much more. 

“Don’t be like that,” You pouted, “You said you were gonna come out with me tonight to make me forget him, but you haven’t even danced with me.”

If you’d thought Toge had any inclination to dance with you, you should’ve been sorely mistaken. But the thought of you going anywhere without him dressed like this had a rage burning in his chest as he thought about anyone else laying even just a finger on you. 

“Sujiko.” He motioned to leave, his warm palm splayed against your hip as his fingers pressed into you. Feeling the plush of your body dip beneath his hand as his thoughts ran rampant, thinking about how pretty you’d look beneath him while he palmed every curve. 

“You’re no fun,” You furrowed your brows, and your bottom lip jutted out so adorably that he had to physically restrain himself from leaning forward to kiss you. For the first time, he wished that his cursed speech worked on the user because he’d shout a resounding “Don’t do it!” just to get himself to stop. 

“Okaka.” He repeated, thankful you could barely see his face beneath his mask as a pastel pink dusted his cheeks. Toge never wanted you to think he was boring, the banter you’d managed to maintain even though you were dating a less favourable guy kept him close to you despite your relationship. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t pleased that you’d finally broken up, even if it meant you were hurting now. 

“Oh, yeah— you are fun?” You teased. Toge could see the cogs in your head working as you motioned back to the bar, “Then do a shot with me.”

Toge sighed beneath his mask as he kept one of his arms poised around your waist in a subtle sign of possession as he came to stand beside you at the bar. Glaring at the bright blue liqueur that’s sat in a rather large-looking shot glass— just thankful it wasn’t whiskey again. 

He didn’t enjoy letting alcohol get the best of him, especially with his cursed speech. It lowered his inhibitions and made him more susceptible to talking, which could be a danger in itself. Texting someone to “go die” playfully during a game or banter was one thing, but actually saying it when he’s shitfaced would have dire consequences.

“Shake shake,” Toge replied. 

The delighted squeal you let out at his answer as he moved his arm from its position to pull his collar down made his lips curl into a smile as he reached out for the glass. Holding it gently as he waited for you to do the same as you leaned your body weight against him, your perfume invading his senses as he tried to remember to breathe. 

God, you’re so tipsy. 

“Three, two, one—” You practically sing as you throw the shot back. 

Toge mimics your movements, not expecting the shot to burn as much as it does as it travels down his throat. Tempted to pull out his cough medicine to try and alleviate the tension, but it’s quickly forgotten when he watches your reaction. Your face is scrunched up adorably in disgust as you stick your tongue out, slamming the glass back down on the bar as you make a cute sound of repulsion. 

“I thought it would taste nice because it’s blue,” You whine, “That was even worse than the last one— let me get us something else.”

Your words are slurred as you move to lean back over the bar, trying to get the barman’s attention as Toge tries to pull you back. 

“Okaka.” He shakes his head, moving his hand from around your waist in favour of wagging a finger in front of you. 

He wants to shout at you, remind you that you promised you’d leave after this, but he doesn’t. Pulling his mask back up around his lips to avoid temptation as he tries to move you away from the bar. 

“Tuna tuna.” He presses, as you move back to lean against him. Your arms back around his shoulders as you sway from side to side. 

“But I don’t wanna go yet, Toge,” You pout, “It’s still so early.” 

Toge ignores your statement as he manages to walk you far enough from the bar that you’re not in danger of ordering more shots. The guy behind the bar was giving you far more attention than necessary and he’s certain he would’ve left the bottle if you’d given him the option. 

“Tuna.” He murmurs as you pull his mask down to stare up at his face. Giving him the same childish pout as he mirrored your actions with a pout of his own, showing off his curse marks as you resist the urge to stroke them.

“You go home Toge, but I wanna stay,” You huff, you throw your head back childishly and Toge has to tighten his grip on your waist to prevent you from falling backwards, “Yuuji will take me home.”

Toge was smart enough to know that Yuuji would be completely incapable of getting you home after the sheer number of two-for-one strawberry daiquiris he’d consumed tonight as he gave you a deadpan look. 

“Shake shake.” He replied sarcastically, his voice oozing with ridicule. Keeping his grip on your hip as he tried to move you to leave but you kept your feet planted in place. 

“Come on, just one more shot and then we’ll go—” 

Of course, he should’ve known you wouldn’t be satisfied with one, and the adorable pout on your lips would usually have been enough to have him crumbling, but he needed to get you home. 

You shook your head immaturely when he tried again to pull you away from the bar, practically whining as you begged him to stay, causing a disgruntled grunt to vibrate in his chest as he tugged your arm. 

“Come.” The word left his lips before he’d even thought about the implication, already turning his body to leave. 

And it should’ve made you follow him— But that isn’t how his cursed speech decides to work, and that’s definitely not where your mind is right now. 

You can feel it before it happens, your body torn from your consciousness as you feel the familiar tingles of energy pulse through your veins as your climax builds in your pelvis— but this is different. The desire blooms so hard and fast that it’s impossible to fight it, as you try to clamp your thighs together to satiate the ache as your arms tighten around Toge’s shoulders. 

He knows what he’s done before he sees it happen. The pleasured look on your face as your thick lashes flutter and your glossy lips part in a shameless whine, manicured nails drag against the messy hair at the base of his skull as your legs become weak. Leaning more of your weight against his a debauched, desperate whine spills from your lips.

Oh, shit. It’s loud, and he’s certain someone has got to have heard it, protectively pulling you closer as though he’s afraid someone else might get to see you like this. 

Toge feels his cock respond, pulsing against his pants as it begs to be set free. To feel your trembling walls hug him tightly as he slides into you for the first time— he’s fucked his fist more times than he cares to count to this image, and somehow seeing it here and now could never compare to all those dirty fantasies he’s had about you. 

The pleasure is all-consuming and nothing compared to the orgasms you’ve had in the past. It feels as though an invisible energy has injected its way into your veins and has filled you with an inexplicable warmth as your climax surges through you in harsh waves. The intensity has you weak at the knees as you cling to Toge to stop yourself from buckling to the floor, burying your face in his neck as Toge wishes he could see the way your eyes roll as your lashes tickle his throat and your lipstick smears against his collar, not that he cares— 

It’s too much, too intense as your hole clenches around nothing and your clit pulses. Thankful for the loud music coming out through the speakers as a sinful whine spills from your lips, your hips jerk wildly as you feel Toge’s hard cock press against your tummy. His breath comes out in harsh pants as he tries to think of something, anything to stop himself from creaming his pants. Already feeling the fresh pre drooling out of his cockhead and soaking his boxers at the mere sight of you.

“Fu-uck, Toge.” You whimper, your nails drag against his scalp as your fingers weave into his messy hair to tug roughly. Stealing a sudden gasp from the back of his throat as he feels you press your body against his. 

Toge tries to commit the sound of your moans to memory. The sultry, debased sound of your voice crying out his name as he forced an orgasm from you that he’ll no doubt be fucking his fist to later tonight as he feels your breasts drag against his chest. He feels like a pervert for getting off on this, no better than the men who were loitering around the bar for a glimpse up your skirt. 

A real creep— but somehow this was worth it, he thinks. 

In all those nefarious thoughts he’s ever had about you while he’s stroking his cock, he’s never once imagined you’d look this good. Completely ruined by him, and he hadn’t even touched you. The corrupt whines he’d stolen from your lips continue well into the tremours of your orgasm as he clings to the sound of them, unabashedly shifting closer so he can hear the high-pitched breathy whines you make over the music playing through the speakers. 

He doesn’t even care if your friends can see at this point if he’ll be roasted in the group chat or vilified for it later. He reckons it would all be worth it having finally seen you fall apart for him like this. 

And little did Toge know that you didn’t seem to mind much either. Your ex had never made you cum like that— an all-encompassing climax that left you feeling like putty. Your legs quivered as you felt the aftershocks continue to trickle through you all the way down to the tips of your toes. An impassioned energy that had your mind hazy, laced with cheap alcohol as it managed to consume your consciousness. 

It’s embarrassing. Knowing that anyone could turn to watch you in the crowded bar, to see just how blissed out you are as you lose control of your body and your senses. The pleasure practically forced itself upon you as you drown in it, wishing he’d help you through it with his fingers against your clit or inside your empty cunt as it continued to flex completely empty. Wondering if this is what he could do with his cursed speech, what Toge would be able to do with his hand— with his cock. 

You were looking up at him with the most fucked out expression on your face, it made it difficult for Toge not to want to kiss you— especially with your lips so close.  

“Fucking hell, Toge,” You exhaled shakily as you clung to him, “That was—”

He locks his jaw to bite back the urge to cough, trying to swallow it in his throat as he moves to pull his mask back over his face. Hoping to shield his now crimson cheeks but your hand is quicker, reaching out to prevent him from pulling it up. 

Toge wraps your wrist in a rough palm to tug your hand away from his mask with a frown, feeling his thumb press into your pulse point as you practically whine at him. Your hips still gyrating as you start to come down from your bliss, his eyes flit out to see if anyone seems to have noticed but thankfully the bar is raucous as he holds you against him as you continue to ride the little aftershocks of pleasure. 

You use your grip on the back of his head to tug him down to your height, your glossy lips barely graze his as you press your lips together. A kiss that leaves him craving more as his tongue peeks out to swipe at the gloss, tasting the sugary hint of cherry as you go cross-eyed looking at the curse mark on his tongue. 

Toge can’t stop himself now, one taste and he’s addicted. His warm palm smooth along your side as he maps out the curves of your body, inching his way up until he finds your face. Cupping your cheek in his hand as he leans forward to kiss you, his lips press firmly against yours as you gasp softly, allowing his tongue to delve further as he strokes it against every crevice. Tilting his head to deepen the kiss as you brush your tongue against his gently, feeling yourself melt into him as your hand's ball into fists in the fabric of his shirt. 

He knows it’s wrong. You’re inebriated, he’s already taken advantage of you by using his cursed speech and yet he can’t stop himself. You’re like a drug and he’s addicted as he longs for one more taste, just another hit and then he’ll quit— except he never wants to quit you.  

Toge has never felt so much disdain for the basic human need to breathe as he reluctantly breaks the kiss, keeping his lips pressed against yours as he pants against you. Your warm breath fans his face as half-lidded eyes meet his, your lipstick now smeared across the sides of your lips and chin as you give him a sweet smile. 

“Toge,” You whine, “You didn’t have to use your cursed speech on me to make me cum.” 

“Ikura.” He curses beneath his breath at the sultry lilt to your tone. 

“Can you make me cum again without it?” You ask so sweetly it has his body reacting before his mind as his neglected cock throbs beneath his pants.

Yeah, you were definitely going to be the death of him.

[sirenedeslily]

matt is 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 of 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 you. 𑇓 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ | ( clingybf!matt & fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 wc 751

matt sat quietly at the table, his hand resting lightly on your thigh as you chattered animatedly with your friends. his rings, a mix of silver and black, glinted under the warm restaurant lights as his thumb idly traced circles against the fabric of your jeans. his tattoos peeked out from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his button up, a sharp contrast to your vibrant, bubbly demeanor. you were leaning forward, your hands gesturing wildly as you told a story that had the whole group laughing, and matt couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight.

he loved watching you like this—bright, magnetic, effortlessly pulling everyone in. it wasn’t his world, but it was yours, and he admired how easily you fit into it. still, as the minutes stretched into an hour, and dessert plates had been cleared long ago, matt found himself shifting in his seat. he’d been patient—so, so patient—but the growing weight of the evening was pressing on him.

he glanced at you, your laughter ringing out as your friend added another joke. the sound made him smile, but his own exhaustion tugged at the edges of his patience. quietly, he leaned in, brushing his lips against your shoulder.

“love,” he murmured, voice low and soft, “can we go home now?”

you turned to him briefly, your eyes sparkling with affection. “just a little longer, matt. promise.”

he nodded, leaning back, but his hand stayed on your thigh, squeezing gently. for a while, he tried to focus on the conversation, on the rhythm of your voice, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to be alone with you. just you.

after a few more minutes, he leaned in again, this time kissing the corner of your mouth, his rings cool against your cheek as he cupped your face. “can we please go home now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“matt,” you laughed softly, brushing him off. “i’m talking.”

you barely turned your head, flashing him an apologetic smile before diving back into the conversation. matt sighed dramatically, his fingers drumming against the table.

and that was when he gave up on being subtle.

sliding his chair closer to yours, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against him. his lips found your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw. he didn’t care that your friends were right there; he didn’t care that they were all smirking knowingly. his other hand moved to rest on your knee, his fingers tapping impatiently.

“you’ve been talking for hours,” he said, his voice taking on a teasing whine. “i’ve been good. i’ve waited. but i’m done waiting now. i want to go home.”

you gave him a playful look, trying to hold your ground. “it hasn’t been that long, matt.”

“it’s been forever,” he countered, his lips brushing against your neck. the tattoos that snaked up his arm flexed as he tightened his grip on your waist. “i love your friends, i do, but i don’t want to share you anymore. come on, baby. let’s go home.”

you could feel your resolve slipping as he pressed kiss after kiss along your jawline, his rings cool against your skin as he tilted your chin toward him. “matt,” you hissed through a giggle, “you’re being ridiculous, i’ll just be a few more minutes,” you promised, but matt was already nuzzling into your neck, his arms snaking around your waist. his warmth and the faint scent of his cologne made it increasingly difficult to focus on your friends.

“no, you won’t,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. “you’ll keep talking, and i’ll just have to keep kissing you until you give in.”

“you’re being stubborn,” he shot back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “you know i’m shy.. i cant do pda. do you have any idea how desperate i have to be to act like this in front of everyone?”

your friends laughed, clearly enjoying the show, but matt didn’t care. he was done trying to blend into the background. right now, all he wanted was you—and he wasn’t above being clingy to get your attention.

“alright, alright,” you relented with a laugh, standing up and as he immediately took ahold of your purse. “let’s go home, clingy boy.”

matt’s face lit up instantly, his hand slipping into yours as he practically dragged you toward the door. “finally,” he sighed, pressing one last kiss to your temple as you walked out into the night.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ a lil bit of something before the big thing.. :3 miss u guys ! also this is VERY inspired by malcom todd’s sweet boy ><

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @secretlocket @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet @strnilolover @xoxo4chrisss

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Falling Into Me

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Smut (p in v, fingering, oral f receiving), angst, loss of virginity, light fluff, feelings :(, real bad self-image issues

Summary/Warnings: You're a virgin, and it's really not a big deal. Everyone was a virgin once. You're just a virgin longer. Maybe forever, because nobody really seems to be willing to solve that problem for you.

You've never told Sam and Dean, and you don't have any intention to. Ever. But when a hunt goes wrong, Dean finds out. And he might have been keeping something from you as well.

Author's Note: This might be the horniest thing I've ever written. Enjoy <3!

Title from Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan

Word Count: 8.9k

You haven’t slept in three days, and it’s starting to be a problem. But you can’t afford to sleep. You can only drink staler and staler coffee, sit at the motel table, and pretend this is a case that, somehow, you’re going to solve. That Dean isn’t grumpier than usual, and Sam doesn’t constantly look like he’s going to kill the next person that dares to have an incorrect idea. It’s why you volunteered for the next round of interviews. You don’t want to be there when one of them snaps and kills the other, and while you wouldn’t love to return to the room and find it covered in blood, at least then you’d have an excuse to call it.

You wouldn’t call it. You’d work the case until it was done, because that’s what you do. And Sam and Dean won’t kill each other, because they’re Sam and Dean. That said, you are expecting a pouting Dean to pacing back and forth outside the room as he waits for you to return, and a grumble about how Sammy said he was being annoying and needed to walk it off. You’re more than prepared to give him a sympathetic smile and ask him if he was being annoying. And he’ll probably protest that he wasn’t, and you’ll raise your brows, and he’ll admit he mighta been drumming really loud while eating the chips.

It’s not an unreasonable expectation. None of you have slept, because this thing is insane. There’s no obvious pattern to the victims, no connections, nothing in line with everything you’ve ever seen. It’s men and woman, a wide age range, no previous coflicts or knowledge of each other in life. There are holes through theirs chests that could be bullet wounds, but obviously aren’t, because Bullets don’t remove the heart from the body. But it’s not werewolves, because werewolves aren’t clean killers like this and every fucking person in this stupid town has passed the silver test. There’s a new kill every night, and a new body every morning, and another reason for you, Sam, and Dean to start screaming every day. Every hour makes you all wired, because it’s closer and closer to another evening where you won’t have caught this asshole and another person will die.

And it’s become really easy to get on each other’s nerves. Sam was mad at Dean because he’d purposefully gotten you all burgers instead of Sam’s rabbit food, you’re mad at Sam because he said you were bad at poker—and you are, but what the fuck—and Dean’s mad at you because-

Dean’s not mad at you. You and Dean don’t really get mad at each other. You understand each other, better than you’ve ever understood anyone else, and it’s the perfect amount of alike that you’ll lend him grace you wouldn’t lend anyone else—including yourself—but you don’t see enough of your own twisting, molding innards to hate him. You mostly see something better. A man that has all the same rotting parts, but has made something out of them while you just waste away in toxins.

And you think Dean sees something similar in you. It’s why you’d been obnoxiously chewing potato chips, right in his ear, and he hadn’t punched you or snatched the bag away from your hands. He’d just rolled his eyes, grabbed one of his own, and started chewing in Sam’s ear.

So you hadn’t really volunteered for interviews so much as been aggressively told by Sam you were doing interviews. And it was only fair Dean met the same fate.

But he hadn’t. And when you opened the door to the room, they both looked happy. 

Dean practically shouts your name when he sees you, wildly gesturing for you to join them at the table. “Sammy found it!” He grins at you almost manically, and it’s a little adorable. “We can finally fucking leave.”

“I might have found it,” Sam corrects, his smile a little more tentative, but still real. “And we can’t leave yet. Not until we actually get the thing-“

“Obviously, dude, but that’ll be soon, instead of in a million years.” Dean looks to you for agreement. “I mean, c’mon. You guys can’t really wanna stay in hicktown Ohio forever?”

You shrug. “I dunno. Good coffee.”

Dean glares at you. “The coffee tastes like ass and you freakin’ know it-“

“Dean.” You give him a flat look. “Do I actually get to know what the monster is?”

Sam sighs. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“I already don’t love it, it’s a monster that’s killed like, ten people-“

“Worse than that.” Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “It’s sorta like a dragon.”

You, very suddenly, don’t feel really well. Everything is hotter than it had been a second ago, and the walls seem to be closing in as your skin begins to prickle and ache. “Like a dragon?” You ask, forcing your voice to remain steady. “Or a dragon?”

“Like a dragon. Tell her, Sammy.”

Sam shoots Dean a glare—not happy being thrown under the bus—and mutters, “It’s a unicorn.”

You stare at him for a long minute, then shake your head. “It’s a what.”

“Unicorn.” Sam mumbles. “They’re, uh, looks like they’re real.”

“But not Pinky Pie and Disney.” Dean adds, turning Sam’s laptop for you to read. “Real fucking assholes.”

“They hunt virgins.” Sam explains. “To bond with. And it’ll kill anyone who falsely lures it.”

“Stab the poor son of a bitch right through the heart, then pull that sucker right out.” Dean adds, spreading his legs and propping his elbows on his knees. “And it looks like it’ll go after chicks and dudes, any age, so that’s why there’s no pattern. You’re able to fuck, you’re fair game.”

“Oh, cool.” You mutter, a lump starting to form in your throat. “I’m always looking for equal opportunity murderers in the monsters I hunt.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna make it a little harder to find the thing.” Sam grabs his laptop back, frowning at the screen. “It’ll take a human form, then look for a virgin. And it won’t be able to tell until it gets the person’s heartbeat up, so it might be a guy or a girl, depending on who it’s hunting tonight.”

“But,” you glance at Dean, who’s grinning as you start to put it together. “It is hunting tonight.”

“Hunts every night.” Dean says, rubbing his hands together. “And we don’t know where, but we can take some guesses. Split up and look at all the bars in town ’till one of us finds something, then gank this douchebag and get the hell out of here.”

“Split up?” You whisper, something wired and flailing coiling around your guts. “That’s, um, shouldn’t we stick together? If it’ll go after anyone?”

“Not everyone.” Same shrugs. “Low, uh, body counts. I guess. Low enough that it can’t tell immediately.”

“So we just need a bunch of whores?"

Dean snorts. “Well tonight,” he spreads his arms, shooting you a wink that really isn’t helpful right now. “We’re the whores, Sweetheart. We’re safe, and we’re going to kick some unicorn ass.”

It’s a cheesy, stupid thing to say, and usually you’d laugh and crack a joke back. Something about unicorn ass and whores that you can’t really think of right now, because there’s bile in your throat and something heavy fogging over your brain.

“How do we, uh,” your tongue is numb in your mouth, and every word is dragged out of your throat. “How do we kick a unicorn’s ass.”

“Well, we’re looking for electrical malfunctions, golden eyes when it gets, uh, excited, and a refusal to drink anything but water.” Sam frowns at the screen, looking up at you with a half-shrug. “Anything amoral seems to knock it down, so just, uh, swear? Then shoot it with iron. Iron kills it.”

“And, um,” you swallow, tugging at the fabric of your sleeves. “What’s gonna to the virgin? If the unicorn finds it?”

Sam sighs. “They, uh, they seem to use them.”

Dean frowns, leaning around to try and read the screen. “Use them-“ 

“Their purity. Use their purity.” Sam raises his brows, and you can see the exact moment it clicks in Dean’s head. 

“That’s...” Dean trails off, running a hand over his face. “Shit.” 

Sam mutters an agreement, and your mouth feels like sandpaper, your heart beating like it’s trying to escape your chest.

“And after?” You whisper, a little unsure you want to actually ask the question, or know the answer. “After they’re used?” 

“Well, they’re not ‘pure’ anymore.” Sam puts an air quote around pure, and you feel a little sick. “So, uh, stab.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly. You might need to lie down. “Stab.”

Dean looks over you with a drawn brow, his voice low and cautious as he says your name. “Are feelin’ okay-“

“I’m fine.” You remember how to smile, and hope it looks real. Not like your teeth are starting to feel out of place in your mouth, and you can’t seem to find enough spit to choke on. “Let’s get the unicorn ass.”

Dean doesn’t look convinced. Hell, Sam doesn’t look convinced. But they both let it go for now, and you can breathe just a little easier knowing you’re not barreling towards a fight.

But only a little easier. 

Because you’re fucked.

Virginity is a funny thing. It’s just a social construct, but it’s a social construct some monsters seem to take as scripture, making it a hazardous thing to still have in your line of work. 

And you hadn’t meant to be a hazard. It just kind of happened. Because it started as something that was a given to have, then turned into something that you just were a little too busy to lose, before becoming an awkward conversation you’re not willing to have. Something that hangs, silent and sharp, over your head and around your throat. Something that’s now a question of why? Why is it never you? You’re not ugly. You’re even pretty enough that, if you tell someone, they won’t believe you and it’ll all feel worse. You’re even pretty enough that you’ve seen people size you up at bars, but none of them ever approach you.

So it might just be you. You might just have something on your face that gives away that you’re more trouble than you’re worth, a little too rough to touch and not have it sting, telling people stay away. 

And Sam and Dean will never know. You’re already a little younger, a little worse of a hunter, a small problem when they’re obviously trying to take someone to their bed but the girl sees you and makes quick and inaccurate assumptions. Sam is better at brushing them off—She’s like my little sister—but Dean gets red and awkward and suddenly loses all his well-practiced charm. He sulks back to the table, and won’t look you in the eyes for an hour or walk with you back to the bar. You’re honestly shocked neither of them have thrown you to the curb by now, an you’re not going to give them another reason to. Another reason for Sam to make a sad, puppy-eyed pity face and Dean to stare at you like he’s not sure you’re real. Like there’s no way someone could’ve possibility survived as a hunter like this. 

And a small, well-contained part of you wishes Dean would look at you the way he looks at other women. Like they still have beautiful, horrible secrets that he’d love to uncover with only his hands and mouth. 

You’ve got secrets. Dean can’t have them—because they’re a liability and you’re not looking to lose him forever—but you really wish he’d just look at you. Once, really look at you, and not see you. See something so much better, that you think he’s always a little close to finding, that nobody else ever seems willing to try and look for.

You’re a little grateful they left you alone in this backwater dive bar. It would hurt to watch Dean flirt right now, when everything feels raw and wired in your body, and every time someone drops next to you at the bar you feel more and more sick. There are quick, polite conversations with random strangers who sound like they’d rather be anywhere than here, with you, and by the time you’ve repeated your cover story for the eighth time your lungs are wrapped iron and your nails feel like a burden on your fingers.

It’ll be over by tonight. All three of you know what you’re looking for, so the unicorn will be dead before sunrise, and you won’t have to do any explanations about why you’ve been quiet and tense since Dean said like a dragon. Nobody will look at you with pity or confusion, nobody will get hurt, and you won’t end up with a hole in your heart as the only people that have ever seen you to be worth something realize just how wrong they were. That you’re really just a small, useless burden that even a literal monster wouldn’t be able to stomach the presence of-

“You here all by yourself?”

Something sparks in your gut at the voice, coming from off to the side, because for a second you really think it’s Dean. It’s deep, moves through your whole body, and knocks loose something in your lower gut that always makes you feel hungry, but it’s not Dean. When you turn, the man next to you looks like someone ran Dean through a printer too many times and he came out faded. A little too short, not quite as broad, all the pretty scars that make Dean Dean seemingly vanished, and a gleam in his eyes that Dean’s never had. It’s a little more feral, without any playfulness or glowing shadows. Too much yellow instead of green, the cocky smirk just a little off, none of it right. None of it Dean.

“I’m, um,” you frown, because this man even smells like Dean. “I’m waiting for a friend. He’s running late.”

Not-Dean clicks his tongue. “Shame, leaving a pretty girl like you all alone. You want some company until your boyfriend shows up?”

You shake your head, turning your glass around in your hand. “Not my boyfriend. And I’m actually…” You trail off, your eyes falling on the man’s own glass. The clear liquid inside. “You drinking vodka?”

“Am I- Oh, sure.” The man chuckles, raising his drink for you to click. “Here’s to not-boyfriends-“

“Can I have some?”

You watch the man carefully as he looks between you and the glass. “Nah, sweetie, you don’t want this, it’s some strong stuff-“

Sweetie. Not sweetheart. Not Dean, not right, not safe. And something is starting to crawl over your skin and shoot up your spine, making you sit a little taller as your heart pounds louder and louder. 

As Not-Dean licks his lips, and scans over you with yellow eyes that might be shining. 

Fuck.

“I, um, I’m gonna go call my friend.” You start to shift off your seat, pulling your phone slowly out of your pocket. “He should’ve been here a few minutes ago, and I’m worried-“

“C’mon, you haven’t even told me your name.” Not-Dean wiggles his brows, and it looks wrong on his face. “Bet I can guess, if you give me a hint-“

“No, it’s fine, my name is, uh…” you look down at your phone, the screen completely black. You’d charged it before you left.

“Your name?” Not-Dean prompts, grabbing your arm. Holding you near him, at the bar. “I’d really love to learn it. I could teach you a few things in exchange-“

“I was never given a name!” Your voice is a frantic shout, Not-Dean’s eyes narrow, and you do the only thing you can think of. Punch Not-Dean square in the face, yank your arm from his grip, and run. Fucking sprint out of the bar and not allow yourself to falter as you hear a roar that’s a little hoarse and off pitched. Like a horse keen. Like a wounded animal.

Like a monster.

Splitting up had been a terrible fucking idea. Now you’re alone, you don’t have even an idea where Sam and Dean are, and you can’t afford to stop and jack a car because you can hear it in the distance. Hooves, clapping against the pavement, getting closer and closer as you begin to run out of breath. You can’t hide, it can hear you, and you can’t go faster because you already feel faint and everything is beginning to collapse in your body. Muscles tightening and skin crawling and eyes pushing out of your skull, every breath too shallow and every step too short. 

You fall to your knees behind a truck, wrapping a hand around your own throat and trying to force your heartbeat back down. Slow, even breathes that come out in choked gasps, nails digging into your skin as the hooves slow, and you hear a low sputtering sound from somewhere behind you. 

And it’s too quiet. You can’t hear anything but your blood in your ears, and all you can see in the night is the flickering yellow light of a streetlamp in the distance. You squeeze your eyes shut and swallow every breath, hoping you can force yourself out before the unicorn finds you. You don’t want to be used. You don’t want to be alone. You just want Dean, where’s Dean, why the fuck did you let him leave you alone, why didn’t you tell him the truth, why can’t you think of anything else but Dean, where’s Dean-

There’s something hot on your neck, and a large presence at your side. Something like spit is being splattered on your neck, and you can’t contain the vomit when a too-rough hand trails up your arm-

“Get the fuck back, you son of a bitch!”

A loud bang cuts through the air—making you jump out of your skin as a heavy body slumps onto yours—and it sounds like church bells and music. It sounds like Dean. That’s his voice shouting your name, his arms wrapping around your body and carrying you away from the unicorn, his breath fanning over your face as he sits you on the curb and starts to turn your face in his hands.

“Fuck, never should’ve left you, but I didn’t-“ Dean cuts himself off with a huff, and you think he’s talking to himself more than you. “Did the asshole touch you anywhere I can’t see?”

You shake your head, keeping your eye glued shut as you curl your hands in Dean’s shirt. Maybe Dean’s shirt. Not-Dean had been wearing plaid too, and you don’t have the nerve or will to open your eyes and seen if it’s your Dean, or the cheap unicorn knockoff.

“Shit, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. Sam’s on his way, but we gotta get you out of here-“

“Didn’t touch me.” You whisper, fighting every urge into your body to curl forwards and start sobbing weak and pointless apologies. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay? You think, fuck-“ Dean’s arm—bigger, warmer, maybe actual Dean—loops around your waist, his voice a little closer to your ear. “Need you to hold onto me, got it? We’re goin’ back to the car, and you gotta, fuck, can you open your damn eyes?”

They fly open, almost on command, and it’s Dean. The smell of whiskey is stronger, more authentic, and his face is sharp in all the right places, and it’s really Dean. 

And he looks pissed. His touch on your body is careful, and his eyes are attentive and sparked with worry, but his jaw is clenched, and his every word is suddenly pushed through his teeth.

“You’re gonna hold onto me.” He orders, holding your wide-eyed gaze with a glower. “I’ll take a better look at you when we get back to the room-“

“Dean, I’m fine-“

“And,” Dean barrels on, as if he didn’t even hear you. “We’re going to have a chat. You’re, I can’t-” he shakes his head scooping you fully into his arms. “Just hold on.”

He sounds pissed. Dean’s rigid and silent the whole ride back to the hotel, his grip white-knuckled and tight on the wheel, and you feel even worse than before. This is it. He had to save you, and he’s going to learn why he had to save you, and he might not kick you out but he won’t look at you the same again. No more ease or awe or comfort or understanding, because Dean’s rotten in places where the mold can be burned away with every good part of him, but you’re just rotten. Just a hideous thing that roars in your chest, just angry and cowardlyand revolting and wrong. You’re just wrong. 

All the panic and paralyzing adrenaline had left your body, so you push yourself out of the Impala on unsteady feet. Dean mutters something about Sam dealing with all the cleanup as he opens to motel room door, watching you shuffle inside with clenched fists and an unreadable expression. You flop onto the bed with a small whine, your body beginning to drown in exhaustion, your gaze locked on the peeling paint of the ceiling as Dean moves around the room out of your view.

“Why’d you come back?” You ask, your voice hoarse and weak, and Dean lets out a long, low exhale from somewhere off to the side.

“You were actin’ really weird.” He grunts. “Didn’t sound like yourself. Weren’t laughing at my jokes, or making fun of Sam. Looked sick every time one of us said stab.”

“I could’ve just been-“

“Don’t.” He snaps, and you crane your neck to see him at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and looking at you. Dean seems to be really looking at you, all of you, and you suddenly really wish he would stop. You’re complete exposed below him, under his glare, and he’s going to see something he hates. Something you don’t have a name for that you’ve never wanted him to see, never wanted him to find. The thing that makes everyone else look away.

But Dean’s attention is like a drug, and you need him to stop before you lose him, but you also never want him to stop watching you. It’s confusing and raw and makes you feel like a live wire, one word or touch or stare away from snapping and bursting into a million sparks.

And Dean’s still looking at you. 

“I didn’t,” you swallow, his eyes like a magnet on yours. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t.” He repeats, his voice lower. Harsher. “You’re not injured.”

You shake your head.

“Good. We need to talk.”

“Dean, I-“

“I’m asking the questions.” Dean leers over you slightly, and you nod again. “Why the fuck did that unicorn seem like it was hunting you.”

He knows the answer. His whole face is already painted in anger, and you know he knows. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Because it was hunting me.”

“Unicorns only hunt virgins.” Dean grunts your name, still not looking away. “You’re not-“

“I am.” You mumble, folding your arms over your own body as you drop back down onto the mattress. “Sorry.”

“Why would you say, fuck- Why in goddamn hell wouldn’t you tell me and Sam-“

“Tell you and Sam what?” You scowl at the ceiling. “That I’m untouched? Pure? Boring-“

“That you’d be in danger!” Dean all but roars, and you don’t flinch, but you do cringe. All the mold in your body feels as if it’s spreading like cancer, because Dean would never hurt you with his hands, but he might be about to curb stomp your heart with only his mouth. “I don’t give a shit about the virgin thing, I care that you were so fucking stupid to go off alone, that you didn’t trust me enough-“

“It’s not about trust, Dean,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut again. “And it’s not like you tell me everything-“

“I do! I’ve told you about all the shit in my past, and my fear of flying, and Rhonda Hurley, and that weird freaking dream I had with the mice in top hats-“

“That’s not the same!” You’re pushing back up on your palms, raising your voice to match Dean’s. You just need him to stop yelling at you, to rip the band-aid off and finally give up on you so you can rest. “This isn’t your business-“

“It’s my business if it’s gonna get you fucking killed, Sweetheart. And I coulda helped you-“

“Helped me?” You scoff. “I don’t need your help with this, Winchester, I’ve come to terms with it-“

There was a brief moment where Dean had looked like you’d kicked him, but it vanishes in a second as he gapes at you in disbelief. “To terms with virginity?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, holding his suddenly slack expression with your own glare. “Nobody wants me, it’s not a big deal-“ 

Dean snorts. “There’s no damn way you’re that stupid-“ 

“I am not stupid-“ 

“Yeah? Cause you’re a fucking idiot if you think nobody wants you.”

It’s your turn to gape at him. Your heart stumbles slightly in your chest, your fingers curling into bedsheets, and the world begins to spin as you try and understand his words. “What?”

“You,” Dean takes a firm step forward, drawing your name. “Are a fucking idiot if you think that there’s not one damn person on the planet who wants you.” 

“But-“

“Nah. No freakin’ buts.” He’s closer now, his knees bumping yours as he glowers down at you. “I’ve watched too many hair-gelled losers at bars size you up like they wanna take a bite for you to have buts. Hell, I’ve-“ Dean shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “Shit, there’s just, there’s no way-“

Your face twists back into a scowl. “Fuck off, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you believe me-“

“Oh, I believe you, Sweetheart.” Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring as a low groan leaves his chest, rolling through the air and settling between your legs in an aching heat. “And I finally fucking get it. You just, you have no idea. I thought you just didn’t want it, but you’re just- Shit-“

“Dean,” your voice is soft, a little breathless, and can’t help but rub your thighs together as his hands start to flex at his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“I know,” he mutters, scanning over your body with an almost predatory expression. “I’m not, I just gotta,” his gaze flies back to yours, his voice suddenly stern. “Sam tell you how the unicorn choses its form?”

You blink. “Wha-“

“It takes the form that will be most appealing to the target. To help the asshole get attention quickly. That unicorn,” his voice drop, deeper than you’ve ever heard it, and it takes all the will you have to not start fall back into in the sheets. “Looked kinda like me.”

“I, um, I don’t-“

“Do you want me?” Dean grunts your name, and you make the mistake of dropping your gaze down, to his pants. To where an impressive outline is straining against his jeans. 

“I’d, I mean, I’m not-“ You swallow, everything a dizzying haze of Dean. “Yeah, I think, but you’re not-“

“I’m not what?” He growls, kneeling down to your eye level, trailing a slow hand up your thigh. “Not interested?”

 “Yeah?”

“Wrong.” Dean’s hand moves higher, trailing closer and closer to your center before running back down to your knee. “So incredibly wrong, Sweetheart. I’ve wanted you since, fuck, since I first saw ya’. But you didn’t seem to want me, so I backed off, but if you just didn’t-“ He pauses, his brilliant green eyes suddenly tearing into your soul, unraveling you before he’s even touched bare skin. “Do you? Want me?”

“I already said-“

“You said yeah.” He mutters, rubbing his hand is a slow pattern on your knee. “Need you to say the full thing, before I do anything else.”

Dean’s face is suddenly softer, with something that aches and tugs on your own heart shining through his eyes, and you couldn’t lie to him if you tried. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to Dean. It feels cruel, and wrong, and as if you’d be denying yourself something so good and rare it will never be replicated if you walk away now. 

“I want you,” you whisper. “I’ve wanted you. But I’m not, it’s not going to be good for you. I mean, I know how to take care of that,” you point to the bulge in his pants, pressed slightly against your calf as he crouches before you, and Dean frowns. “But I’ve never, um, you know-“

“You’re not takin’ care of anything.” He says, scanning over your open face with drawn brows. “We’re doing this, it’s gonna be about you.”

“Oh.” There’s a little drool falling out of your mouth, Dean reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb, and your voice becomes a squeak. “Okay.”

“If you really wanna,” his mouth curves into a smirk, and you need it on yours now. “Next time, I’ll let you go to town on Little Dean.”

You can’t stop the small giggle escaping your lips, and it turns into a full laugh as Dean’s own grin grows, and nothing really feels that bad anymore. “Little Dean?”

“Compared to the rest of me, yeah.” Dean does a loose gesture at his broad, strong body, his grin growing cocky. Hungry. Starved. “But trust me, gorgeous. Ain’t nothing little about him.”

Your eyes widen, your thighs rubbing together as the need for him becomes almost unbearable, and Dean lets out a deep, low chuckle. 

“You want me, babygirl?”

You nod, and Dean’s eyes narrow as he squeezes his hand on your leg. 

“Need you to say it-“

“Yeah.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

A grin splits over Dean’s handsome face, and his hand drifts to your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours as he drawls your name. “I’m gonna need to get you ready, so just,” he pushes you slightly, and you fall flat on your back, moving your own hands to hold his against you. “Stay there, look pretty, and let me work.”

You nod, your vision already a little blurred with desire as you stare at the ceiling. Dean draws back, shuffling around at the edge of the bed, and you look up to see his shirt gone. It’s all warm, slightly golden and freckled skin, strong and soft in all the right places. His muscles flex as he takes a long, deep breath, and big, calloused hands lowering to trace over your midriff, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What’d I say about stayin’ there-“

“I, um,” you gasp a little as his hand slips under your shirt, bunching the material and starting to slowly pull it over your chest. “I’ve done other stuff. Just so you know. And I’ve done things to myself-“

“I bet you have,” Dean mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you carefully against him as he helps you out of your clothing. “Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so damn beautiful. Can’t wait to taste you, touch you, fucking ruin you-“

You let out a high, needy moan, burying your face in his neck and mumbling against his skin. “Please, Dean, just-“

You cut yourself off with a gasp as his free hand slips into your pants, cupping your pussy over the fabric of your underwear and rubbing back and forth so torturously slow you might fly out of your skin.

“So wet for me already,” he grunts, tugging on your hair until you lean back, meeting his gaze. “Ready?”

You’re not sure what you need to be ready for, but as long as it’s Dean doing it, you’re good. You nod, wrapping your arm around his neck in silent affirmation, and Dean pulls back to pop open the button of your jeans with a single hand, offering himself easier access.

Two broad fingers toy with the hem of your panties, Dean’s eyes almost glittering as his attention falls to where he’s touching you. Watching your body shiver when he glides his thumb over your clothed slit, your hips jerk when he presses down on your clit, your legs stretch as wide as they can when he starts to rub small circles against you.

“Dean,” you whine, your free hand moving to cup his jaw, trying to move his gaze back to yours. “Please, shit-“

“That feel good, babygirl?” Dean starts to quicken his movements, adding small, teasing flicks and pinches that make your eyes roll back in your head. “You like me teasin’ you? Playin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy until you’re soaked- Fuck-“

You start to grind on Dean’s hand, trying to chase relief while showing him that he didn’t need to play with or tease you. He has you, unraveled on his fingers and desperate for more of him, all of him, whatever he can offer you that will feel like this-

“Shit, you’re dripping.” Dean’s movement on your clit still as he drags his thumb down, resting right over your aching, already sensitive cunt, and pressing into you just enough to make you whimper. “I gotta taste you, Sweetheart, c’mon.”

His gaze shoots back to yours, something a little animalistic in his low, hoarse voice that almost makes you cum on the spot. “Need you hold on, pretty girl, we’re gonna get you out’a these.”

You nod, letting Dean lay you back down on the mattress, lifting your hips as he drags your jeans off your body, taking your underwear with them. Leaving to totally, completely naked on the bed. Vulnerable, entirely at his mercy, with not another place you’d wish to be in the world.

Dean crawls slightly over you, one of his hands tracing up your stomach, palming at your breasts, then rolling your nipple between two, rough, expert fingers. You gasp, arching slightly off the bed, and a low, deep groan rolls from Dean’s chest.

“Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You’re,” Dean cuts himself off, dropping his mouth to your other breast and latching plump, slightly chapped lips around your nipple. Your vision starts to line with light that might be angels coming to take you away, because this has to be heaven. This is better than heaven. Heaven wouldn’t allow such sinful things as Dean groaning against your skin, his boner pressing into your thigh, or his hand kneading at your ass. Someone shouldn’t be allowed to feel this good. This feels like everything, and blissfully nothing, and mostly just Dean.

You must have moaned his name, because he crashes up, fisting a hand in your hair as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. All teeth and spit and burning need. Dean tastes like coffee and whiskey and syrup and fruit when he shoves his tongue down your throat, and he smells like gunpowder and leather as his weight hold you easily down, and his lips are so soft but so demanding as he practically devours you, and you’re high. He’s not even inside you yet and you’ll never have enough. This isn’t more than what you’ve done before, but Dean’s ruined you with just teasing touches and wet, starved kisses, and you’re starting to worry you might ascend when he actually fucks you.

He starts to kiss and suck a line over your jaw, down your neck, and between your breasts. It’s heavy and wanting, but still so carefully coordinated. Every move Dean makes seems to be calculated, because he nips at your collarbone right as he tugs on your hair, and the sound that leaves you is high and undignified and exactly what he wanted. His chuckle rumbles in his chest—now pressed against your stomach—and all you can do is moan as he continues his perfect torture. Licking one nipple as he pinches the other, dragging two fingers through your folds as he kisses down the plane of your stomach, stopping right at the apex of your thighs with glittering eyes and firm hands, slowly guiding your legs open.

“Shit.” He mutters, warm breath right over your pussy, making your hips jerk slightly. “Goddamn, baby, you’re responsive.“ A wide, smug grin overtakes Dean’s face as he pushes one finger into your pussy, and you squeak. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He growls your name, and starts to pump that finger in and out, the pace so slow and almost painfully good. “God, you have fucking idea how long- How bad-“ Dean groans as you squeeze around him, and adds another finger. “You’re making such pretty sounds, babygirl, better than I ever imagined. Shit, you’re sexier than a fucking dream.”

His eyes drift back to yours, and shiver goes up your spine from how Dean’s looking at you. Really looking at you. Watching your writhe in the sheets and plead for him in weak gasps, watching you at your most vulnerable state, and grinning like he loves what he sees. Like he’s never seen anything better.

“Dean,” you gasp as his fingers pick up speed, starting to scissor inside your dripping cunt, bumping against a tender spot inside of you that seems to sing under his touch. “Oh my god, Dean, please-“

“Such pretty sounds,” Dean grins at you, crooking his fingers against that same spot to rub. “Let’s see if we can make some more.”

Without further warning Dean drops back down, latches his lips onto your clit, and sucks it right into his mouth like candy. It’s almost immediate, how he pulls you from warm pleasure to raw, almost feral desperation. You’re right on the edge, grinding on his face as his stubble burns your inner thighs in the best was possible, his tongue flicking over that pulsing bundle of nerves, his fingers reaching a demanding and brutal pace-

“Fuck, I’m-“ You let out a loud moan as Dean growls against you, pulling at his short, soft hair to try and both move him away as you dangle over the drop, and urge him on to let him catch you when you fall. “Close, Dean, I’m close, please-“

He pulls away, and you almost scream from the loss. You even force yourself up to glare at him, but you’ve barely gotten a steady balance when a high, needy breath escapes you at the sight of him. 

Dean’s towering over you, his pants discarded into another corners of the room, stroking his massive, fully-erect cock in one hand as he scans over your sweaty, flushed body. 

“I wanna fuck you dumb, babygirl.” He grunts, and you can’t really hear him your own Dean-addled brain, so you just gape and moan, and he chuckles. “Shit, looks like we’re already halfway there. You got any words for me-“

“Dean, please.” The words start to fall out of your mouth with the slight drool on your chin, almost as if he’d commanded them. “Please, I need you, need you so bad-“

You spread your legs in offering, and Dean groans. “Fuck, Sweetheart, you can’t just-“ He closes his eyes, running a hand over his face, and there’s a moment before he speaks again where you worry you’ve ruined it. That you’d shown too much, or Dean saw too much, but no matter what this is over before you can even get that huge, glorious cock inside of you- 

“I’m sorry-“

Dean frowns, his brow drawn as he looks down at you. “What the hell are you sorry for.”

“I dunno, I’m just not-“ You swallow. “I’m not good at this, I don’t know what to say-“

He grunts your name, prowling over your body under your trapped between his strong body and the bed, unable to escape his intense, searing gaze. Looking at you, examining you, and not flinching or moving away. “You,” he says, tracing one gentle hand over your cheekbones. “Are fuckin’ amazing at this.” 

You can only gape at him, so he keeps going.

“I’m the one that might fuck this up, Sweetheart. You’re so,” he makes a loose gesture to your body, and you really wish he’d use words, but the look of sheer awe in his eyes will be enough for now. “And I get to do this for you, and I’m not trying to blow my load before you even cum once.”

“I almost came.” You offer him a small smile, your fingers tracing over the sharp line of his jaw. “But you stopped me.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’m plannin’ to make that up to you. If you still-“

“I want it.” You cut him off quickly, rolling your hips up, right against his cock. “Please, Dean, I really want it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, dropping a little further down. “Are you-“

“I’m sure.” You guide Dean’s lips back to yours in a soft, almost sweet kiss, and say the words you really hope will snap whatever leash he’s put on himself. “I want you.”

It works. Something flashes in Dean’s eyes, and his hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit and rolling it in slow circles as he growls in your ear.

“Wanna feel you, babygirl. Fuck you raw. I’m clean, but if you want me to grab a rubber you’re gonna need to keep yourself going while I-“

“No!” You almost yelp, wrapping your arms around him in a desperate attempt to keep him above you. “I mean, I’m clean too, obviously, and I take birth control just for like, lady stuff-“

Dean raises his brows at you. “Lady stuff?”

“It kinda helps with period cramps and-“ You cut yourself off with a moan as Dean flicks your clit, tossing your head back you start to squirm, trying to catch him into you. “Fuck, Dean, please just fuck me-“

“You mean like this?” Dean guides the head of his cock inside you, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Fuck ya’ like this, baby?”

You grind on him, scratching at his back as you plead. “Shit, that’s, Dean that’s good, more-“

“More, baby? You need more already?” His grin is shit-eating, and you’d hit him if the dark look of lust in his eyes, the baritone of his voice being several octaves lower than you’ve ever heard it, and the throbbing ache of him starting to split you open wasn’t rending your limbs only putty in his arms.

“Dean, please-“

You might stop breathing as Dean guides himself fully into you, settling his face in your neck as he bottoms out. There’s a long moment where it’s only Dean’s warmth over and inside you as he gives you time to adjust, groaning against your skin as you squeeze around him.

“Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so tight.” He kisses right behind your ear. “Feel, fuck, feel so good around my cock, so fuckin’ good-“ He emphasizes his words with one, short thrust that pushes him right against that one spot and makes you whine. “You ready, baby? Ready for me to pound this tight little pussy until you cum all over my cock-“

You almost yank him back down into a desperate, borderline feral kiss, because if he kept talking you might have cum from just the sound of his low, rough voice growling in your ear and rumbling in your chest.

Dean takes a long, ragged breath when he pulls away, and you roll your hips only once. Just enough for him to groans and fall back over you, kissing and sucking on your skin like he thinks you’ll vanish if he doesn’t mark you with his touch. 

Then he starts to move, and you were right. This is heaven. Dean’s moving so slow, pulling almost all the way out before driving back inside, until you’re fully impaled on him—his cock pressed fully against that one spot, making your whole body feel warm and alight, and your head feel a little dizzy—then repeating the movement again. And again. Over and over, so fucking slow, still leaving softer, slightly uneven kisses along your collarbone and grunts against your skin but-

“Dean,” you gasp his name, your nails digging into the muscles of his broad back as he continues to move on you. “Fuck, Dean, go faster, please-“

He rises up to meet your eyes, an unreadable expression on his face that’s made entirely hunger and want, but edged with something a little stronger you don’t understand. “You sure-“

“Yes.” You’re practically whining, scratching at Dean’s skin as you squirm under him, desperate him to really, properly fuck you. “Please, Dean, feels so good, need more, need you-“

He shakes his head slightly. “Don’t wanna hurt you-“

“Not gonna-” you let out a breathy moan as Dean pushes back into you, the movement a little harsher than before, and so fucking good. “You won’t hurt me, please, Dean, fuck-“

“I’m-“

“You said,” you force your eyes to stay on Dean’s, even as he sits deep into you, cock throbbing against that soft spot and making you see stars. “You said you wanted to fuck me, Dean.” You raise your chin, grinding up into his torso until his throat bobs. “Fuck me.”

A low, primal noise leaves Dean’s mouth, and he fully snaps. You might have screamed his name when he began to move again—ramming into you at an unforgiving pace, creaking the bed and bruising your hips as he grabbed at your skin, molding you perfectly into his touch and body—but he swallows the noise with a deep kiss that makes your eyes go unfocused, your whole body slack and only for Dean to play with as he drags you higher. Slamming against that spot, balls slapping onto your ass, one free hand squeezing at your tits before dragging down your side and finding your clit-

“So fucking good, babygirl.” Dean groans into your mouth, and you think you might be floating or falling or flying, but it doesn’t matter because Dean grunting in your east and slamming into your dripping cunt, and that’s the whole world. “Look so good, all ruined and whiny, such a good fucking girl, taking this cock so well, made to be fucked so fucking pretty-“ He pinches your clit, and you whimper his name. “Wanna cum, baby? Wanna fucking soak this cock-“

“Yes,” you gasp, scratching at his back, muscles rippling as he drills into you. Something in you hopes it leaves a mark. That Dean feels you on his back a little forever, just like you know you’re going to feel him in your pussy and on your neck for the rest of your life. “Feels so good, Dean, feels so fucking good, wanna cum so bad-“

“Beg-“

Dean barely grunts your name before you bite on his upper lip, almost screaming into his mouth. “Please, Dean, please, need to cum, wanna cum so bad-“

“Shit, baby, you’re-“ Dean groans, his pace becoming uneven and thrusts slightly staggered, cock twitching deep inside you as he ruts into your aching, clenching pussy-

Dean flicks your clit once, sending your hips almost flying off the bed, and starts to rub you at a frantic, savage pace. 

“Cum with me.” He growls your name, lips ghosting over yours and you stare at him under, cockdrunk, lidded eyes. “C’mon, baby, cum-“

Your scream is hoarse as your orgasm slams into you like a freight train—pure, drug-like bliss washing over your whole body, a soft haze of Dean settling behind your eyes and over your skin—and Dean roars as he slams open, warmth coating inside you and dripping between your thighs, down your ass, and onto the bed.

Dean rolls over, taking you with him, and remains carefully sheathed inside you as your cunt grows sensitive and your breathing slows back down. It helps that he keeps your ear pressed to his bare chest, where you can hear his heart beating. Calm and steady and strong, just as certain and constant as the man it’s inside. 

As the man had been.

You’re not sure what he’s going to be now.

“That, ah,” Dean breaks the silence, his voice low and almost soft. “That do it?”

You smile against him. “If you mean take my virginity, then yeah, I think you did it-“

“No, I mean was it,” He groans, his arm shifting slightly around as his voice drops. “Was it good. For you.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly, trying not to hum like a needy fucking when Dean starts to run his fingers through your hair. “Yeah. Really good.” You stifle a moan as he twitches inside you. “It was awesome. Good, uh, good job?”

“Thanks, Sweetheart.” You can hear to smug grin in his voice, his free hand starting to rub soothingly on your back. “You were pretty fucking awesome yourself.”

There it is. You were pretty awesome. And he’s still inside you. And you need to know if you were awesome enough for something, anything to stick.

“You said, um,” you swallow, staring at his tattoo because you can’t bear to look at his face right now. “You said I could give you a blowjob next time. Did-“ 

“Did I mean it?” 

You nod nervously, and Dean’s whole chest rumbles with his low laugh, rolling right through your body. He grunts your name, and—when you still don’t look at him—hooks a finger under your chin to guide your gaze to his. 

“Look.” He sighs, and this is it. He did you a favor, and that’s it. He won’t stay, nobody stays, why would Dean Winchester be the one to stay- 

“I get it,” you mumble, and wish you would find the will to make your body roll away from his. “You don’t need to explain-“ 

Dean’s grip on you remains firm, and his voice is a deep, amused drawl. It feels a little cruel in your gut, because you’d have really liked more. More would have been the best. You didn’t even need all of Dean, you’d just have really like more. 

“You get it.” He raises his brows, and you nod again. “Sweetheart, you might want to actually hear the explainin’ part before you say anything.”

“I, um-“

“See, I’m a firm believer that all ladies should ride more than one dick in life. Too much of a good thing, ya know?” He winks at you, thrusting slightly up into you, and you flush. “But, if you’re taking applicants for long-term dicks, I’d have to be dumb not to apply. I’m never gonna complain if I get you all to myself.”

You stare at him, your voice barely a whisper. “So, um, you mean-“

“If you’ll have me,” he mutters. “I’ll take you up on that blowjob offer soon. And any other offers you’ve got.”

“Offers,” you swallow. “For long-term dicks?”

He shrugs—tracing a finger over your arm and refusing to meet your eyes—and it might be your turn to make the move. 

“Dean.” You whisper, crawling up his chest just enough for his eyes to easily find yours. “I’d really like you being my long-term dick.”

He frowns. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that-“

You drop down to press a soft, tentative kiss against his lips, and he tenses for only a second before overtaking you. Deepening the kiss with his tongue pushing on your lower lip, groaning when you open for him without a moment’s hesitation, pinning you onto his chest with big, strong arms as you fall fully into him.

Dean pulls back for only a second, searching over your open expression—all affection and need for him, swollen lips and shallow breaths—until he finds what he’s looking for, and his face splits into a wide grin. 

“If you’re lettin’ me,” he says, tucking a little bit of hair behind your ears. “I think I’ll stay your long-term dick for while, Sweetheart.”

“I’m letting you.” You whisper, a small smile pulling on your own lips. “But we need to come up with a better name than long-term dick.”

“Boyfriend?”

You stare at him for a second, unsure if this is real, because Dean just said that word like it was obvious. Not something he’s adamantly refused to be for anyone, ever, for the entire time you’ve known him. He said it like he was waiting to say it. And, looking at him—unfamiliar hope haunting the very deepest part of those perfect eyes, his grin so genuine but filled with nerves—you think he might have been. And all the money and glory and pleasure in the world couldn’t make you tell him no.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Boyfriend’s good.” 

Dean’s grin becomes almost boyish, and this last kiss is sweet. It’s a kiss in the rain, or under bleachers, or on a rooftop with nothing but time and peace around you.

And you and Dean have never had either of those things. 

But you’d really like to and find them. And if it’s with Dean, you really think you could.

End Note: Look at Dean. Being Emotional. I'm so proud of him (I made him do that)

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Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature

[grandisknight]

dots and dashes | sylus

summary: Sylus gives insight into one of the many languages he's well-versed in.

tags: nsfw (mdni), established relationship, afab!reader, banter, morse code, vibrator, sex toys, orgasm edging, f!orgasm, aftercare/morning after, gift giving, evol abilites (sylus' energy manipulation), a pinch of fluff

wc: 2.6k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: mildly inspired by one of his older text messages (affinity 37’s text message: deal)! also around his pre-debut, he had morse code in one of the teasers (official weibo post here) and i thought that was pretty neat so here we are ^_^)7

The leader of Onychinus kept a plethora of languages stored away under his sleeve. A man of multiple tongues and talents, you just wanted to know how to say one thing—anything, really. 

Though, you didn’t think he’d take a silly comment in passing so seriously, and it landed you in his personal study the following evening. A rare day where your schedules aligned, Sylus took the opportunity to extend a warm welcome into the N109 Zone under the promise of a ‘lesson.’

Of all the languages, morse code was what he decided to reveal in his cards. A curious choice, to say the least, but it piqued your interest nevertheless. Cozied in one of the cushioned chairs, a beginner’s guide laid flat across the desk with your scribbled notes. Sylus’ chair was tucked to the side in observation, accompanying your lessons as a stand-in teacher of sorts.

Time passed in this way—he would offer a series of taps and drags with his fingers against the surface, and you would write them down. He was patient with you all throughout, solidifying the foundation for the alphabet before switching to small words and phrases.

A question that had been plaguing your mind since you arrived drifted into the air during a self-proclaimed break. “By the way, why do you know morse code?” 

With a hand propping your chin, your gaze takes in his relaxed figure. Comfortably dressed in his light gray sweater, the detailed threads of silver patterns painted him in a softer aura that juxtaposed his usually formidable appearance. Rimless glass coveted the rubied gaze that would occasionally meet yours, though occupied in thought. 

It was distracting, to say the least. A handsome distraction at its finest, though it doesn’t pull away from the message he quietly relayed to you.

A dot, two dashes. A series of dashes, another dot and some more followed.  (.-- / --- / .-. / -.-)

Counting off the units that met the table in muted taps, you answer, “Work?”

“Good ear, sweetie.” Sylus nods, leaning back and adjusting the thin frames balancing atop his nose. “Sometimes, negotiations are better said without words.”

“That’s a thinly veiled way of saying threats, but sure,” you retort. He doesn’t deny your claims, rather letting out a small chuckle in acquiesce. 

Sylus taps your forehead with his forefinger, amusement quirked in his brow. “You’ve seen the kind of talks and people I’ve dealt with. Who knows, you could use this in one of your little undercover missions too.” 

His hands return to nestle in his lap, and it catches your eye then—a faint snap and swirl of black manifested into a box underneath his palm. Perfectly fitted and nearly hidden if it weren’t for the glimmering trim around the edges, and the fluttering crow feather swaying towards the floor.

“Curious, are we?” Sylus voices your thoughts, fingers drumming against the lid. 

Two dashes and a dot, a couple more dots, another dash-dot and lasting dash. (--. / .. / ..-. / -) 

“Gift,” you echo upon realization. 

Your eyes wandered between his lap and the sparkling rubied gaze that honed his presence, reading between the lines. “Don’t tell me it’s another gun? Last time I checked, my Harrier 700 still works well.” 

And the last thing you wanted to deal with was a run-in with customs, if that were the case—he’s already tried his luck before, and you weren’t counting on his luck index to grant a second chance.

“You’ve been taking good care of it, so there’s no need for a replacement,” Sylus says. He leans back, tapping a forefinger to his temple in thought. “I thought it would be nice to get you something for studying so diligently.”

It had your back straightening in attention—now you really had no idea what he could be hiding. Even so, a scowl sketched onto your face, wondering if you’ve walked into a trap. A dry chuckle parts his lips at your clear interest and adamant attempt to maintain a façade all the same.

“Sweetie, it’s all yours.”

“It’s not that simple though, is it?”

“Ah. You know me so well,” he muses. “As vigilant as ever.”

The box finds itself on the desk and his hands reach for your chair. They dance over the armrest before turning your full front towards him—where his cocked head and curled lips asked, “Let’s make a deal. How does that sound?” 

“What’s the catch?” Your heart jumped into your throat, unsure of when the air became so… palpable. Damn him and his ridiculously handsome face, you couldn’t tell if it made this more bearable or stirred your senses further. “I might be willing to wager.”

“Relax, that’s one of the conditions.” His larger fingers swipe over one of yours, which had subconsciously curled into a fist. Gently, he coaxes your hand to open into his, soon neatly slotted and all encompassing with warmth. “You look nervous, and I haven’t done a thing.”

“I know.” Your shoulders relax when his thumb massages yours in a light stroke. “But you haven’t done anything yet,” you clarify.

“Which brings me to my second condition.” He brings it closer to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours when he presses a kiss to your knuckles. “A test, if you will. You pass if you manage to decode my sequence correctly.”

“My sequence,” you pause, catching the tail end of his proposal. “So there’s only one?” 

“Why, do you want a whole pop quiz?” He snickers, a brow raised. “We’ll be stuck here all night if that’s the case.”

“Nevermind,” you shake your head, finding the prospect to be less than charming. One was more than enough to take on your plate.

You purse your lips then and poke in jest. “Are you doubting my academic prowess now?”

“I would’ve dismissed you entirely if I was,” Sylus points out, tugging your hand towards him. 

It jerked you forward unexpectedly, though it seemed he was anticipating this—smooth swirls of red and black tangled around your body, gently placing you atop his expecting lap before softly dispersing. “There’s no doubt in my mind you’re as bright as they come,” he adds in honesty.

“What the—hey, now!” A flush ran across your cheeks at the newfound proximity. 

Hips hovering above him, you nearly fell onto the fine meeting place between his thighs. You save yourself the embarrassment, reaching for the chair’s headrest to steady your shift. He allows you this much, your legs soon bracketing his own and enjoying the sight all the same.

You huffed, “Is this part necessary?”

“Par for the course, actually.” Sylus’ fingers ghost over your sides, before settling atop your thighs and his palms lying flat in a gentle caress. “You can always back out if you’re not game.”

An arrow to your pride dug into your heart at the mere offense. The competitive spirit that once laid dormant jerked into consciousness—absolutely not.  “No, we’re on. Do your worst,” you raise in steadfast confidence. “I can take it.”

“Those are fighting words,” he says. The glint in his eyes was unmistakable, teetering on a fine line of fondness and scheme alike. “But I’ll hold you to it.”

—

So, maybe your confidence could only carry you so far. 

Rather, it tumbled you into a predicament at the cost of your exposed cunt. His free hand lazily dimpled into the plush of your hip, simultaneously careful to keep you steady. No longer a comfortable chill, the study’s air swirled into a concoction of heat and burning salacity in every inhale.

“Sweetie,” Sylus purrs. “You still haven’t answered my question.” 

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. The game of codes was the last thing on your mind when a fine man of caliber was perched beneath you, gracefully stringing you along and allowing you the same right.

Easily thrown out the window, especially so, when all inhibition was lost to his kneaded touches and peppered kisses. The smooth movements that treasured your skin with care, tugging your bottoms down just enough in the process and tenderly appreciating you throughout the heat of the moment. Even his hair stuck out in one direction to the next, unkempt from the field day your tugging fingers reshaped the silver stands into. 

Be that as it may, you still groan, chest rising to catch your breath. Nails drag into planes of his firm shoulder blades, lightly leaving their mark. “It’s because you’re not playing fair, Sy.” If you had a nickel for every time you were close to crashing in his embrace from an impending climax, it would be two. While it’s not an impressive sum, both were earned in the past few minutes alone, under the direction of his cunning smile and newfound toy in hand.

To his kindness, he pulls the rounded head of the vibrator away from your clit—the once muffled hums rang out more clearly, whirring at the highest setting. It glistened to the naked eye, finely coated in a layer of your evident arousal.

“All is fair in love and war,” he says, unphased by the line of bait you failed to reel in. He leans forward to press a kiss into your temple, a sign of affection pairing with a gentle squeeze to your side. “Should I be nice and walk you through one last chance?”

Your hands trace the curves melting into his neck, grazing his nape in forewarning. “Thin ice, Onychinus head.” 

“Alright,” he muses, though reveling at the added pressure that only spurs him further. “No need to get so formal with me.” The vibrator lowers in the same breath to meet your anticipating heat.

“Five letters. Ready?”

Your hips roll forward then, impatience losing its virtue if meant you could finally, finally seek some relief. “Was practically born ready, at this point.” And then, the first rhythm played out in three, gentle presses to where you needed it most. 

Three dots. (...)

This was fine, you could handle this much.

A moment of pause soon sways into the vibrator sliding between skin, returning to the apex of your labia, and dipping once again. 

A dash, added dot, and paired dashes thereafter. (-.--) “Still with me?” Sylus asks, taking in the sight of your eyes screwed in concentration. It was endearing, in some sense of the word, and his gaze lingered on your expression in intrigue.

Though grateful for the concern, you chide when your breath allows it. “Don’t stop, go all the way already.”

To stop halfway tested what little patience there was left in you. You raised your head to find his circles of crimson brimming with a fondness and undivided attention. All for you.

The grin he graces you with carries the same sentiments, newly tinted with mirth. “Whatever the boss wants.” 

The humming returns without warning, and you jerk against the touch, gasping. A press and slide, following upwards once more in double succession. 

Another dot, dash, and two dots in a row. (.-.. )

You were quickly beginning to piece together the puzzle he left you to solve, the audacity of it all.

Before you could admonish such revelations, you bite your tongue when he continues into the next piece. It was fleeting, but memorable—identical presses and a sinister slide, the buzzing toy greeting your entrance in slick abundance. 

Two dots, and a dash. (..- )

“You’re not—” Your eyes grow wide at the newly placed prodding. 

“Getting cold feet? A minute ago you wanted me to go all the way,” Sylus recalls with a click of his tongue. “It would be unlike you to stop right before the finish line, sweetie.”

You squirm against him, sensitive and incredibly aware of the coil threatening to unfurl. He takes notice, hand stilling in consideration.

“You can do it,” he croons, forehead to yours and capturing your fluttering gaze.

“Never said I couldn’t,” you say, a swallow sealing your determination.

Sylus smiles. “Last letter. Let's make it count.” The vibrator slips into your cunt, whirring against your walls in a sense of overwhelming ecstasy. He makes quick work of it all then, three generous thrusts of the wand disappearing almost entirely, save for his firm grip around the base. 

Three final dots. (...)

It marks the end of his charades, and the beginning of your incandescent cries.

You came undone at last, release ebbing as a flurry of sounds shape themselves into your call. “Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.”

“That’s it, ride it out for me. You worked so hard to earn it, after all.” His nose brushes just beneath your jaw, a tender kiss in consolation to soothe your high. 

He relaxes the toy out of your spent heat by the time your trembling thighs subsided, power shutting off and rolling onto the desk’s surface. A brief swirling of black and crimson manifests a small cloth into his hand, gently patting away the stickied outcome before it disperses in the same specks. His fingers rake along your sides, dragging the fabric of your bottoms into their proper place.

“Sylus.” You slump against his shoulder in recovery, bemoaning amidst the moment of calm clarity. “You are unbelievable. The damn answer was your name, of all things.” “And now you know how to call for me in code. Aren’t I generous?” The slight rumble of his chest supports the chuckle he lets out, deepened further when a curl of your fist smacks his shoulder in protest.

Endearment softens his tone as he draws circles into your back, taking the rolling punches. The other tangles his fingers against your temple, smoothing out the sides in thought. “I would say our lesson went well today.”

“One hell of a lesson,” you remark. Your breathing slows for a moment, listening to the drumming heart beneath your ear. His caresses were kind, lulling, attentive. A sense of peace, wholeheartedly yours and Sylus' alone.

Your gaze shifts towards the desk, when another piece of memory, well-decorated in its untouched trim, lies next to the toy. Forgotten, nearly—the gift. “By the way,” you murmur. “What’s in the box?” Whether it was out of laziness and unwilling to move from your warmth or pure convenience, Sylus waves his hand in summoning. Accepting the floating item midair, you were about to peel off the lid when he began to shift under you, interrupting your grand reveal.

“Hold on.”

With practiced ease, Sylus single-handedly cradles you to his chest and adeptly rises from the cushioned seat. No matter how many times he’s pulled it off in the past, it still leaves you breathless as if it were the first time.

You circle an arm around his neck, the other clutching the box with a huff, “I was about to do an unboxing, you know.” 

“I know,” he confirms, and presses another kiss to your temple. “But you’re getting sleepy. Open it after a good night’s rest.”

A swirl of Evol pushes the doors open, his footsteps echoing down the hall and towards his sanctuary. Your mind willed to protest his attempt of procrastination, yet only a yawn pushed past your lips and proved his point.

Curling into his embrace, you faintly mumble into his neck, “I’m wide awake.”

“And the sun shines at midnight,” Sylus deadpans, unimpressed at your performance. “Don’t fight it. If you’re tired, then sleep. I’ll make sure the gift will be there when you wake up.”  “You promise?”

“With my heart,” he says.

It was a simple response, yet the timbre of his words imbued security and affection all the same. As if he meant more than just ensuring your box was safe, swearing to something beyond your greater comprehension. 

One blink lasted longer than the one prior, sweeping the thought and yourself away into soundless sleep. Another time, perhaps.

—

You would find out the following day that he stayed true to his word. In the quiet hums of the morning, a slumbering giant clung to your side, his breathing calm and unknowing you had finally peeled open the mysterious box. 

A finely crafted jewel twinkled amidst padded velvet, a clasp secured on one end. Engravings inlaid in a series of familiar dots and dashes; you couldn't help but softly laugh, a finger tracing the pattern.

(-... . .-.. --- ...- . -..)

Beloved.

[wcnderlnds]

spooky scary movies | peter maximoff

✧ fluff/angstober day one | scary movies ✧

・❥・warnings: peter is a lil suggestive bc he’s peter and mentions of chucky ig. ・❥・ authors note: a day later than i wanted but we here. also trying out a new format 💕

“Sweet! What snacks we got?” Peter jumped over the back of the couch, sitting down next to you. It took him no time at all to start rummaging through the snacks you’d placed on the small coffee table.

Somehow, you had managed to convince Peter to have a scary movie marathon with you. Spooky season was finally here and there was no better way to kick things off than with a marathon of all the best spooky movies. It was even more of a necessity when Peter had told you he hadn’t seen most of the ones you’d listed off to him. How could he not have seen the classics like Friday The 13th or Nightmare on Elm Street?

Peter wasn’t exactly the type of guy that sat and watched movies. He had tried — he had really tried so many times but sitting still for such a long period of time wasn’t in his repertoire. Focusing on just one thing for more than ten minutes was hard, he constantly had to be on the go, had to be doing something. Sitting down and watching something for almost two hours seemed like torture to him. It was so slow. Too slow but for you, he’d get his shit together and give it a go even if it pained him. Besides, it was worth it to see the wide smile on your face. Your excitement made him feel all gross and tingly inside — he hated the feeling and loved it all at the same time.

“Peter,” you scolded him, batting his hands away. “Don’t finger all the food before the movies even started.”

“I’d like to finger someth-” You cut him off with your hand over his mouth before he could even finish his sentence.

“Behave,” you blushed, moving your hand away when he licked your palm. “Gross.”

He snickered, quickly snatching a Twinkie off the table. He leaned back against the couch, ripping it open and almost stuffing the whole thing in his mouth. All you could do was roll your eyes. Typical Peter but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

The silver haired speedster had had your heart for the last six months. It had been a slow blossoming romance. It had started with lingering looks, hugs that lasted longer than they should’ve until one day he had ran right up to you and, in a flurry of words, had asked you on a date. From there things had only grown and here you were now.

Peter’s arms were stretched out on the back of the couch, one of his legs crossed over the over. He looked like the epitome of comfortable as he finished chewing his Twinkie. “We’re watching the one with the weird doll first, right?”

“Chucky and yes, we are.” She hit play on the movie. Peter had insisted they watch this one first because the idea of a killer doll seemed hilarious to him.

An hour into the movie and you were cuddled into his side with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. His leg was bobbing up and down, his fingers drumming on the arm of the couch. It was getting harder and harder for him to stay still but the fact he was trying for you warmed your heart. You looked at him, his eyes were focused on the movie until you placed your hand on his bouncing knee.

“Hey,” he smiled down at you.

“You hate this, don’t you?”

“What? No! I…. it’s just hard for me to stay still but I’m enjoying it, promise. Being here with you, watching this freaky little doll is a blast. Promise, babe.”

You searched his eyes for any sign that he was just telling you what you wanted to hear. When you found none, you cupped his cheek. “You’re too good to me, Peter Maximoff.”

“Pfft, shutup.”

“Make me.”

Peter grinned. In one swift movement, his lips were on yours in a soft, gentle kiss. His hands gripped your hips to pull you into his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck as you settled into him. His tongue traced along your bottom lip and it took no time at all for you to part your lips, his tongue meeting yours. The movie was completely forgotten now. As the kiss grew more passionate, Peter slid his hands under your shirt, holding your waist. A content sigh passed his lips briefly before they captured yours again.

It was very, very reluctantly that he pulled away. His forehead rested gently on yours, his eyes closed until he spoke and ruined the moment in only the way he could. “So, this Chucky doll… he’s totally real, right?”

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Twenty Six

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: ENJOY THIS CHAPTER MY LOVES!

Tags[CLOSED]: @blueskylinesx @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @teenblues @malice-ov-mercy @krisslee18 @xxkittenkissesxx @happi-goth @embracethereaper42 @softvgold @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-me @bloody-delusion-expert @respectfulrebel @reader13000 @koskeepsake @malerieee @cheyyyyr @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @jessiskyee @a1ex-ba1ex @sideeyenoah @emzandthevoid @badomensls @bellaboo967 @waake-mee-up @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave @lobolocaamo @cncohshit @amelia-acero @karenfranco @collidewiththesavannah @xserenax-13 @bleachampion @thepastelfae @supersquirrel1996 @madomens @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715

NOAH

I drummed my fingers along the wood of the table, humming a soft beat to myself while the hustle and bustle of the cafe moved around me. Conversations were muted as my dark eyes stared out the large window next to the booth I’d been sitting in for the last hour and watched as people went about their days.

“I'm so afraid that the walls that I have made have locked me in. I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend,” I sang under my breath, still gazing outside. 

The thought of wondering what those individuals were going through privately lingered in my mind for a few beats before a certain movement caught my eye. My heart began to beat widely in my chest, seeing those soft waves brush along her bare shoulders due to the wind. The brightness of the sun paled in comparison to the yellow of her sundress. My gaze lingered on her long legs, tracing over the design of her Greek Gods tattoo on her thigh then over to the other thigh where one of her favorite tattoos was on full display. 

The album artwork of nothing, nowhere’s second album Reaper. 

I continued to look over all of her other tattoos as she walked closer to the cafe where I waited for her. The flowers and leaves on her left arm and Kaonashi on her right arm. As she stepped closer to the window, I saw the small Totoro tattoo on her inner ankle and the memory of us getting our somewhat matching tattoos on her birthday came to mind, causing me to smile fondly. 

The door opened, the old bell above it ringing loudly, causing the woman behind the counter to brush away the silver strands of hair from her face. The two women smiled at each other before one of them waved. 

“Usual?” The woman behind the counter asked. 

“You know me so well, Astrid.” 

“Hi, angel,” I smiled as Y/N’s eyes found mine in the busy crowd of Fika. 

“Hi yourself, Mochi,” she placed a gentle kiss on my cheek before sitting next to me in the booth. 

Immediately I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her into my chest, breathing in her familiar scent of peaches that lingered on her skin. 

“How was therapy?” I asked after handing her one of Fika’s famous kanelbullar, which she took with a grateful smile. 

“Good,” she licked her sticky fingers. 

My cock twitched in my shorts and I discreetly had to adjust myself underneath the table. 

“We talked about my parents,” Y/N sighed. 

The last couple of weeks her mom had been trying to call her, Y/N never answering because she didn’t want her mom to affect her mentally. Any time they had a conversation, it drained Y/N. 

Her dad, however, they talked almost every other day for a few minutes. But the last phone call had been more than three days ago because he’d been sick and couldn't find the strength to talk. It worried both Y/N and I but her dad reassured us that it was merely the flu and he’d be back on his feet in no time. 

“Have you texted your dad to check in?” I asked while playing with the ends of her hair. 

She somberly nodded. “A bit. But he’s still fighting the flu. Maybe I’ll facetime him once I’m back at your place.”

I kissed the side of her head. “What about your mom?” 

I knew the subject of her mom was always sore for her but I still tried to help her keep that connection. 

“She keeps discrediting everything I’ve done with Hollow Souls,” Y/N snorted. “I’ll talk to her once I’m more level headed and don’t say something out of line.”

Even though she didn’t say it, I knew she was done talking about her parents, so instead I motioned towards Astrid who stood behind the counter. 

“They haven't said one word to each other,” I informed her before pointing to Jolly.

Whenever he wasn’t busy with Bad Omens, he would be here helping Astrid run Fika. 

“I wonder what happened. They seemed so happy at the aquarium last week,” Y/N frowned. 

I rubbed her shoulder. “I think she’s still dealing with the aftermath of her fathers death. Jolly mentioned that she had a nightmare the other night; something about finding her dad.” 

Y/N cursed under her breath, still keeping her gaze on our two best friends. It was as if they were employees, by passing each other with curt nods, and not a couple that was slowly falling in love with each other. After everything they’d gone through to get where they were, it made my heart hurt for them. It seemed as if the shift happened a few days ago after Jolly officially moved in with her. 

“I know she was interested in seeing Dr. Poulos. Maybe that will help her open up,” Y/N said. 

We watched in silence for a moment as Jolly went to move past Astrid behind the counter to refill the coffee maker. It was a tight squeeze so he had to rest his hand against her lower back and even from this distance, I could see a small flicker of light in her eyes. Both of them shared a look and Jolly leaned down to kiss her lips; both of their bodies relaxing into each other. 

Maybe they’ll be alright.

“Oh shit,” Y/N said while rubbing my thigh. “I forgot to tell you. Chase and Malcolm have asked me if they can have the apartment to themselves tonight.”

I chuckled while finishing up my coffee. “So my place again?” 

“If you don't mind?” She batted her eyelashes at me with a pouty lip. 

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to devour them in the crowded cafe. We’ve both been extremely busy with work and other things that we barely had more than a few minutes of alone time together. We spent the last four nights away from each other but whenever we were able to spend the night together, it had been at my place most of the time. 

Which caused this offer to plague my mind ever since we came home from tour a few weeks ago. Nerves ate away at me as I did my best to gain the courage to ask her this because it was a big step for us and I didn’t want her to feel like I was pressuring her. 

“You know,” I dragged my fingers up and down the shoulder it was wrapped around. “You already have all of your stuff at my place and you spend most nights there, might as well make it official.” 

A soft intake of her breath as she stared up at me, something flashing in her eyes as they darted between mine with the wonder if she’d heard me correctly. 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” She asked. 

I nodded with a small smile. “I would give you a key but you already have one.”

“Shouldn’t you talk about it with Jesse and Michael?”

There was so much hope laced with her voice but also clear hesitation, not wanting to overstep when others were involved. So I reassured her with a tender kiss to her lips, one Y/N breathed into. 

“They don’t care, angel. They’re the ones who suggested it,” I said while resting my forehead against hers. “We have the space now since Jolly moved out. I want to be able to wake up to your face every morning. Feel your body next to mine as I sleep, easing away the worries of if you’re doing okay.” 

Y/N blinked away the tears while dragging a finger over my cheek. “What about Salem?” 

“You seem to forget that he’s been living there more than you have,” I chuckled. 

It was true. 

She’d been so busy with Hollow Souls lately that it was best to leave Salem at my place so he would have company with Jesse and Michael. 

“So what exactly are you asking?” She teased, wanting to hear the words fall from my lips. 

“Move in with me, angel. Please?” I finished my own pouty lip.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she ruffled my hair. 

The vice grip around my heart loosened at hearing her accept and I pulled her closer into me as we discussed plans on how we would go about moving all of her things to my place. We had a free weekend coming up and figured it would be the best time. 

“Do you think Matt will let us borrow his truck?” Y/N asked as we both went about cleaning up our table and bringing over the dishes to Jessica, the manager of Fika, and she thanked us with a smile.

“He’ll be busy so it should be fine,” I said. 

Her eyes lit up with sheer curiosity. “Oh, how’s everything going with them? She’s been kicking ass as our photographer.” 

I gave her a sly smirk, one she immediately knew the answer to, and she giggled. “I’m glad. He deserves it.” 

Glancing at my watch, I knew that I had to run next door quickly to avoid being late so I bid Y/N a goodbye with a kiss. 

“I’ll call you after therapy,” I promised. 

She squeezed my side. “I’m going to head to the store and pick up some boxes. Anything specific for dinner tonight?” 

“Whatever you want, angel,” I cupped her cheek.

Three days later, the Hollow Souls apartment was filled to the brim with not only stacks upon stacks of moving boxes but all of us moving in and out to pack up the various cars. 

Chase and Malcolm were busing turning Y/N’s old room into a studio; something she playfully gave them shit for. 

“I’m not even out the door and you two are changing my room around!” She mocked with a hand over her heart. 

But she was beyond excited to have an actual studio close by so whenever she was feeling inspired to work on something new, she didn’t have to rent out a place.

As I was taping up the box that held all of her books, I noticed Y/N was leaning against the kitchen counter with a grimace on her face. 

“Angel,” I called over to her. “Take my car and go home. Lay on the couch with your heating pad.” 

That word made all of my nerve endings burn with excitement. 

Home.

“I’ll be fine,” she waved me off. 

Setting down the tape, I crossed the threshold from the living room into the kitchen to rest my hands on her hips. Her endometriosis pains have been debilitating the last few days but today was the worst I’ve seen. Y/N had been trying to push through all afternoon to help pack up her things but all of us knew that she was seconds away from crumbling to the ground in pain. 

Just then, Michael stepped into the apartment after loading up my car with boxes so I tossed him my keys. 

“Can you take Y/N home? And make sure she rests?” I asked. 

Even though he was playful with his banter, I knew he was excited to take a break from moving things. 

“I will gladly be a babysitter,” he motioned for Y/N to follow. 

But she wasn’t ready to stop protesting. 

“These are my things. I should help-.” 

I cut her off with a gentle pat to her ass and pushed her towards the open door. “We’re almost done here so you won’t be missing much. Grab some food on the way home and we can watch a movie tonight.”

She smiled fondly at me, one that made my heart stutter in my chest. “I love the way that word sounds; home.” 

I agreed by kissing her lips. “I love you, angel.” 

“I love you more, mochi,” she proclaimed over my lips. 

A few hours later, I had all of Y/N’s things packed in her car and was about to head back inside to let Chase and Malcolm know that I was headed home when an unfamiliar car pulled up into the spot next to me. After spending some time here, I became familiar with what apartment complex belonged to what car so I knew that this one didn’t belong here. 

It wasn't until the familiar face stared back at me over the tops of the cars that a low scowl pulled on my lips. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Y/N’s mom sneered towards me. “Where’s my daughter?” 

I couldn't help but snort at how she greeted me but did my best to remain calm by running a hand through my hair. 

“She’s not here. She’s at home,” I answered while opening up the door to her car, ready to leave. 

Her mom raised a brow. “Her car is here. This is her home, what do you mean she’s not here?” 

For a moment, I stood perplexed on whether or not to tell her why Y/N wasn’t here. I knew that it wasn't my business to tell but also knew that her mom wouldn’t stop badgering either of us until she found out what she wanted. 

“All you need to know is that she’s fine. I’ll let her know you stopped by,” I said with a forced smile. 

The sun had set long ago, the bright glow of the moon casting over the parking lot and the distaste on Y/N’s moms face. The way her judgmental eyes lingered on my tattoos that poked out from my sweater and shorts did nothing to help the growing scowl on my face. The little voice in my mind kept telling me to be respectful since this was Y/N’s mom. 

“You can’t keep her from me,” she crossed her arms over her designer suit. 

I gripped the handle of the door, knuckles going white, and let out a long, deep breath. 

“I’m not forcing Y/N to do anything, ma’am. She’s an adult and makes her own choices,” my voice had taken an unexpected edge to it; something she picked up on. 

Those eyes cast towards the boxes in the car and let out a very obnoxious gasp; suddenly putting two and two together. 

“You claim she can make her own choices but you forced her to move in with you?” 

“You think you know shit when you don’t,” I snapped, not being able to keep my composure any longer. 

It had been months of constant belittlement from her towards Y/N with every phone conversation or text message and it had been me there to pick up the pieces; every fucking time. I was tired of seeing the light drain from my angel's eyes because of her own mom. 

“Excuse me?” She gasped. 

Rolling my eyes, I leaned my arms over the top of the car and now narrowed my eyes at her. 

“You don’t get the right to continue to talk down to your daughter and expect her to have a relationship with you. It’s fucked up that you expect all these things from her when it’s not who she is.” 

She snarled. “Language, young man.” 

“Fuck that,” I scoffed. “Y/N turned out to be an amazing young woman. She built Hollow Souls from nothing and overcame the fear of what would happen once Trey left. She’s thriving in all aspects of her life and we’re all so fucking thankful to be able to witness it. If you can’t be proud of any of that, then why are you even here?” 

My voice was raised causing Chase to pop his head out of the open door of the apartment ready to ask what was wrong but froze when he noticed who my anger was directed towards. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he hissed while stepping out onto the front lawn. 

“Not now, Jace,” Y/N’s mom waved at him like he was an annoying pest. 

“Chase,” he corrected. “You have no right showing up here, you know that. Especially with what happened last time you surprised Y/N.” 

I remembered that all too well. It was before we were dating and it took me forever to pull her out of that slump. Her mother reminded Y/N that she could never be a mom due to her condition. 

A topic her mother knew nothing about. She didn’t understand the hope Y/N had for the possibility of being a mom.

Her mother stomped the heel of her shoe to the concrete. “I have a right to my daughter!” 

“No you don’t,” I shook my head while standing next to Chase now. “We’re both standing up for her. She doesn’t need your negativity.”

Her moms eyes bounced between us before brushing away her graying hair and that's when I noticed the very large diamond on her left finger. 

Mother fucker. That’s why she was here. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath. 

“Not that it’s any of your business but I came to tell my daughter that I’m getting married and I would love to have her there. She needs to meet the man that will become her new father,” her mother divulged in that condescending tone that irritated everyone around her. 

Chase squeezed his fists at his side, trying his best to keep his composure. “You’re unbelievable. You can’t expect your grown daughter to call another man dad when she already has one.”

“That man can’t even get on a plane to visit his own daughter! His life in Japan is more important,” her mother sneered. 

“When was the last time you actually reached out to Y/N without the intent to boast about your life? When was the last time you actually cared about what’s going on in her life?” I demanded to know with furrowed brows. 

When her mom remained silent, I nodded more so to myself knowing my answer was right. 

“Her dad facetimes her every day to ask how her day went. He doesn’t let the insane time difference stop him. He called her the other day to show her this manga book shop down the road from his place because he knows how much she loves it.”

“Man-what?” Her mother shook her head confused. 

I pinched my eyes shut with a longer breath than before. Chase, on the other hand, let his anger be known. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that? You don’t give a shit about Y/N, you never have. Ever since the divorce you made her choose you in regards to everything. You never believed in any of her dreams, you didn’t believe her when she tried to confide in you about what a dick Trey was. When she tried to tell you how she finally found the one, you brushed it off as a pipe dream and said it wouldn’t last.”

My eyes snapped over to Chase with his words, this being the first time I heard this. 

The one. 

I couldn’t ignore the way my heart leaped in my throat with sheer happiness at hearing those words. I always knew deep within me that Y/N was it for me but knowing that she felt the same as well eased away that negative voice in my mind that told me she would leave me alone in a hotel room again. 

She wouldn’t. I knew she wouldn’t. 

“My wedding is in a few weeks. Tell my daughter I expect her there,” Y/N’s mom ignored everything Chase had said and opened her car door. 

“We’re busy,” I said with a curt nod. “But I wish you the best in your upcoming nuptials.”

She slammed the door and took four steps towards me while pointing a finger in my face. “I do not appreciate your condescending tone, young man! You will show me some respect since you’re dating my daughter.”

Chase stepped forward but I held out a hand, letting him now I was alright. 

“Respectfully, ma’am, I don’t have to do a damn thing.”

“You think just because you’re some hot shot musician that she’ll stay with you? You want a family, that’s something she can’t give you. Save yourself the heartbreak and let her down gently. I have a spare bedroom in my house up in the hills she can move into. I’ll have the maid get it ready for her.”

I blinked at her, the audacity of her thinking that I would break up with Y/N because of her endometriosis stilling me for a long beat. 

“Bitch,” Chase grumbled under his breath. “You have a lot of fucking nerve for even assuming Noah would leave Y/N because of that.”

“I love Y/N with my entire fucking soul,” I pointed a finger to my chest. “We’d gone through hell for our souls to find each other after everything and I would rather die than let her slip away from me again.”

Her mom’s lips parted, ready to interject, but I cut her off. “And I’ll be damned if I continue to allow you in her life when all you do is discredit all the hard work she’s done. She doesn’t need you. She has all of us that love and support her. So if that’s something you don’t think you can do, you can get the fuck out of here.” 

My patience had worn extremely thin and I was finished with this conversation. All I wanted to do was swing by the Japanese place downtown to bring us some ramen and lounge on our couch with Y/N. 

Her mom glanced over to Chase, expecting him to say something, but he merely crossed his arms over his chest in a silent agreement with me. She brushed down the front of her pantsuit before retreating back to her car without another word, it peeling away from the parking lot. 

“We should tell Y/N,” Chase said after a beat of silence. 

I nodded. “I’ll tell her. Tomorrow. I just want to enjoy the rest of the night with her.”

Biding each other a goodbye, I finally left the apartment and spent the few miles driving home doing my best to calm down. My knee bounced with agitation when I replayed the conversation with Y/N’s mom over in my head and cursed to myself that I did the same thing I told Y/N not to do. 

I let her mother get under my skin. 

She knew nothing of mine and Y/N’s life, of the plans we’ve made, so she had no right to try and make Y/N change it because she didn’t agree with it. 

With the bag of ramen under my arm, I bounded up the steps towards home and felt all the negative energy the second I opened the door and smiled at the sight in front of me. 

Y/N was laying on the lounger part of the couch with a big blanket and I assumed her heating pad underneath it. Jesse sat next to her with a bowl of popcorn between them, both of them throwing pieces at each other. Michael sat on the far end of the couch with Salem perched in his lap, both of them watching Attack on Titan. 

“Seriously? You guys couldn’t wait till I was home?” I teased while kicking the door shut and setting the food out on the coffee table. 

“I told you he’d be upset,” Jesse mocked Y/N, who stuck out her tongue at him. 

“Whatever, you’re here now,” she extended a hand towards me and I fell next to her onto the couch with a relieved sigh. 

She could feel the tension weighing on my shoulders so she breathed into my hairline. “Everything alright?” 

“It is now,” I admitted while pressing a soft kiss to her stomach that was covered by the blanket.

READER

Humming softly to myself, I kept busy by folding the large pile of clothes on the bed in front of me. Salem had made himself comfortable in a pile of Noah’s sweaters and I didn’t have the heart to move him. It had been a very lazy Saturday spent doing some house chores in the morning and hanging outside with the guys. Noah had left a while ago for a training session with Ash and promised to swing by Fika’s to grab me some mochis. 

I’d been living with Noah for a week now and honestly, not much had changed. It was as if we still found ourselves in that familiar rhythm as before but instead of leaving to go back to my place after a couple of nights, I stayed. 

And I will forever stay by his side. Even if my mom didn’t believe it. 

The following morning after I moved in, Noah told me about my moms visit and all the things that were said by him and her. I was never upset with Noah for sticking up for me, or Chase either. I was upset with how my mom thought so little of not only my life but my relationship with Noah as well. 

Hearing the news she was getting married and wanted me there was laughable; literally. I could help but laugh when Noah mentioned that part and I made sure everyone knew that we were not going to that wedding.

“It’s nothing new, unfortunately,” I sighed into Noah’s chest as he told me about it. “I think it’s best for everyone if I continue the space with her.”

Picking up the familiar gray sweater, I chuckled with confusion as to how it appeared in my pile of clean clothes. The communal Chief sweater that seemed to get passed between all four of us in the house. Padding into the living room, I went to hang it up in the front closet where I saw Jesse typing furiously on his phone. 

“Everything alright?” I squeezed his shoulder before hanging up the sweater. 

“No,” he sighed. 

The anxiety was evident in his voice so I sank down on the couch next to him, urging him on with a gentle squeeze of his knee. 

“It’s Maxxine. I’d been trying to get together with her since the aquarium but she’s been ghosting me. It’s not the first time either,” he admitted with another sigh. 

My heart sank for my friend but yet my anger for how Maxxine was treating him burned brighter. Yes, she was my friend as well, but I didn’t like how she was treating Jesse. He’d been a sweetheart their entire relationship and didn’t deserve any of this. 

“Was it rude of me to break up through text?” He wondered. 

It was my turn to sigh while pulling my knees to my chest. “Honestly, a bit. But if she’s ghosting you and not even trying, it might not be worth keeping the relationship alive, Jesse.”

“It’s hard being the only one trying,” he said with a somber voice. 

I rested my head on his shoulder. “I know.”

We sat like that for a minute and I couldn’t help but smile at how many amazing people I had in my life. Through it all, they stayed by my side even when I was in the wrong for how I treated Noah that night so long ago. 

Suddenly both of our phones went off with a similar text tone and as we glanced down at the screens, Jesse raised a brow. 

To: Hollow Omens Atlas Chief

Chase: Oak Gardens at the Descanso Gardens tomorrow night. Seven p.m. Dress attire is somewhat formal. Just bring yourselves. 

Nicholas: That’s vague but somehow informal. 

Folio: Lucky for you, my schedule just cleared up for the foreseeable future. 

Jolly: Shit, Nick. What happened?

Three bubbles appeared then disappeared for a moment before appearing again. 

Folio: I wasn’t the only one. 

Jesse and I shared a look and now the anger I felt before because of Maxxine was tenfold for the pain Folio was going through. It didn’t say much with those four words but yet, they told a story about another one of my friends going through something they didn’t deserve.

“I don’t like all of these breakups. They usually come in threes,” I semi joked. 

Jesse worked out a reply into the group chat, it appearing on screen. 

Jesse Cash: Please tell me that everyone else's relationship is safe. 

Mal: We’re good over here. 

Jolly: More than alright. Astrid has been going to therapy and she’s making great strides.

I couldn’t stop the smile and sheer joy I felt knowing that Jolly and Astrid were finally reaching a better place in their relationship. 

Me: I guess Noah and I are alright 😜

Mochi 🍡: Funny, angel. It's really funny. 

Michael: I’m still single so no need to worry about me.

Knowing that Michael was upstairs in his bedroom alone gave me pause, wondering how he was doing. I couldn’t help but worry about all of my friends.

Chase: Now that we’ve all either reassured that our relationships are fine while some of us need something to forget the pain of a breakup, Malcolm and I will see all of you tomorrow night at seven p.m. 

Bryan: Wait, what about Matt? Are we sure they’re still doing fine?

Bryan: Also can’t wait for tomorrow, Chase. I’ll bring my camera.

Matt: Y’all realize how annoying it is to have the group chat blowing up while we're watching Greys?

Snuggling deeper into the couch while Jesse got up to get started on dinner, my fingers typed quickly on the screen. 

Me: She got you watching Greys?

Davis: He actually got her into it. I know since I’m currently sitting on their couch with them watching it.

Matt: Fuck off, bro.

As the group chat continued to blow up, text after text, I heard the front door click open to reveal a sweaty Noah; his shirt clinging to the muscles of his back and his shorts were showcasing his thick thighs, the tattoos clenching as he strode further into the house. 

“Hi,” he mused while placing a kiss on my lips. 

I scrunched up my nose at the scent that lingered on his skin. “You stink.” 

Noah chuckled. “Ash really kicked my ass today. What’s for dinner?” 

As he turned towards Jesse in the kitchen, I called after him. “Shower first. I can still smell you!” 

Noah slowly turned back to face me, a playful smirk on his lips, and suddenly I felt fear creep into my bones. 

“What’s that, angel? I smell?” He cocked his head to the side. 

“Shit,” I cursed but then giggled when Noah jumped on top of me. 

His large body engulfed me, wiping his dried sweat all over my skin. I felt the stick strands of his hair in my mouth, causing me to gag on the taste of it. His fingers worked against the sensitive spots of my ribs and then thighs, tickling me with no remorse. 

“Please,” I gasped in between fits of giggles. “I can’t. You know how ticklish I am!” 

Noah ignored me and continued to crush me under his weight, pinning me to the couch as he dug his fingers deeper into the skin of my thighs. 

“Say it!” He demanded. 

“NEVER!” I shouted back while trying to squirm out from under him. 

He grabbed my wrists to pin them above my head, forcing me to smell his armpits. I cringed while still fighting underneath him; the smile never leaving our faces. 

“Say it!” 

I shook my head, trying to maneuver my nose away from his armpit. “Never! You’ll never get me to say those words.”

Footsteps bounded down the stairs and through the small opening over Noah’s shoulder, I saw Michael watching the scene with wide eyes. 

“What the hell is happening?” 

Jesse chuckled while looking through the various take out menus we had. “Y/N said Noah stinks so now they’re having a tickle fight.”

“Assholes! Help me out here, he’s forcing my face into his armpit. I don’t want to smell it,” I called out to Jesse and Michael, who simply watched with amused expressions. 

Noah rubbed his armpit over my cheek while I smacked his chest. “FINE! YOU WIN!”

He pumped his hands in the air while sitting on my lap, cheering loudly, and then bent low to capture my lips in a kiss. 

“I stink now,” I jutted out my bottom lip. 

“I guess that means we both need to take a shower,” he fanned over my lips.

His pupils dilated, sheer black overtaking them, and I quickly patted his thigh so he could hop off of me. 

“I need to finish the laundry,” I did my best to fix my clothes before scurrying off into our bedroom down the hall. 

“Let me help, angel!” Noah called behind me as he chased me down the hallway, pinning me against the door. 

JESSE

When the door to Y/N’s and Noah’s room shut and Salem came trotting down the hallway before jumping onto the kitchen counter, I shared a look with Michael. 

“Think they’ll be fine with tacos?” I asked while holding up a menu for one of our favorite taco trucks that was always parked down the block from us. 

Michael shrugged before walking over to Salem’s empty food bowl, filling it up. “Give me five minutes and I’ll come with you.” 

As he ran back up the stairs, I slipped on my gray hat with the white flower to hide my unruly curls and tapped the back pocket of my jeans to make sure my wallet was still there. As I went about cleaning up the living room, setting the pillows and blankets back in their respective places, Michael appeared in the living room again. 

“Ready?” He asked before leaving a soft kiss on Salem’s head.

With a nod, we both began the short walk down the block towards the taco truck. 

“How are things with Maxxine?” Michael wondered as the skyline in front of our eyes faded from a bright orange to a dull gray. 

As the houses turned to downtown buildings, I let out a long breath, doing my best to keep my composure. City lights and skylines were always the guide to a wandering mind, one that wouldn’t stop. 

“I broke up with her. It felt one sided so I realized I deserve more than being strung along,” I scuffed my already worn down shoe against a rock. 

Michael patted my shoulder. “You do, Jesse. You’ll find someone that will want all of you, all the time.” 

I shrugged, the taco truck coming into view. “I doubt it. I’m starting to think love isn’t in the cards for me.”

Since I broke up with Maxxine earlier, all I could think about was if I had done something to push her away. Was my anxiety too much for her? Did she not enjoy the time we spent together when I was home from touring? 

Was I not enough for her?

These thoughts were binging on shadow and smoke, my worries endlessly coming undone. All of it tiny little pieces that mirrored each other, a broken glass looking in. My heart was shattered with the undoing of a relationship I thought would last and it longed to be whole again. 

“I never thought that I could withstand falling short when I'm a broken man,” I sighed while coming to a stop at the end of the line in front of the truck. 

Michael gave me a somber smile before reading over the menu even though we already knew what we were going to order. My mind continued to be on other things, the sound of food unappealing all of a sudden. 

The soft tone of a giggle graced my ears and when my eyes glanced up from the broken concrete at my feet, I saw a woman a few feet in front of me laughing at something one of her friends had said. 

She was breathtaking. 

The way her hair fell over her shoulders, unmoving even with the wind that blew around us. The freckles that somehow managed to sparkle under no light. And the way her eyes made every one of my nerves ignite with a force that took my breath away. 

Bright as the ocean and lips so soft, so pure; waking lips to greet the sun. When she smiled wide, something deep within me awoke that lay dormant for so long. Not even my relationship with Maxxine made me feel this way; this alive. I didn’t know anything about this woman, only the fact that her laughter seemed to quiet the anxieties plaguing my mind. 

As if she felt me staring from underneath my hat, those striking eyes locked on mine causing a soft sigh to fall from my lips. The tips of my fingers tingle with the need to run them through those soft strands of hair. When the corner of her lip curled up into a smile and her hand raised in a quick wave, I knew that I’d be alright. Finding her in the middle of this busy line on a Friday night was me finding my footing in the fog that never seemed to evaporate from my life. 

I thought my story had ended with my break up but instead, it was only the beginning. A new possibility of wonder, prospect, and maybe even love was lingering in the cityscapes skyline and there was only one thing on my mind; I wanted to keep finding her smile in the epilogue.

NOAH

“You’re what?!” Y/N’s voice was raised, echoing through the trees and causing a few onlookers to glance over at us. 

I rubbed her lower back, muttering into her hairline. “Angel.” 

Chase, who had his fingers linked with Malcolm, just smiled. “We’re getting married.” 

Y/N remained motionless in my embrace, eyes blinking slowly, as she tried to register Chase’s words one final time. 

“You’re getting married?” She asked. 

Malcolm ran a hand through his long auburn curls. “We’re sorry we talked about it without you, sweets. It was kind of a last minute decision.”

“We love each other. I think we’ve always had but never really admitted it,” Chase gazed up at Malcolm. “He’s the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with, might as well make it official.”

I grazed my fingers over the exposed skin of Y/N’s back, feeling the goosebumps rise to her skin. It was a warm but breezy afternoon in Los Angeles and with the olive green exposed back dress she wore, I did my best to keep her warm. The thin strap began to slide down her freckled shoulder so I gently fixed it as she blew out a shaky breath. 

“I’m not upset,” she reassured Chase and Malcolm. “I’m so fucking happy for you guys!” 

As the three of them shared a hug, I peered over to the large group of friends that came here tonight. It was amazing how much all of our lives changed in the almost two years since Hollow Souls and Bad Omens toured together. Both bands grew and flourished in their new eras while all of us individuals did the same. Every single one of us were living different lives but somehow we managed to make the time to find our way back to each other. We were one giant family that cared and loved each other. We looked out for one another and when someone was going through something, we all were. 

The sun was still high in the sky casting a bright glow over the rows of chairs and the simple vine arch. Chase and Malcolm weren’t the kind of guys that wanted something over the top. They explained that the ceremony would be an exchange of vows and rings ending with a kiss. They didn’t want a party afterwards because they had plans on leaving right from here for a little getaway before tour life picked up again.

Y/N’s arms wrapped around my midsection and I gazed down at her with a fond smile. 

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” She played with the undone buttons on my black shirt, my chest piece peaking through. 

I hummed while grazing my nails up and down her exposed spine, over the snake tattoo there. 

“I don’t think you have, angel.”

Now her fingers brushed away a few loose strands of hair that fell into my eyes. 

“Well, you look absolutely gorgeous and I love you,” she praised. 

With one hand grazing up and down her back, I cupped her cheek with the other one to lay a caressing kiss to her lips. I felt her breathe into it, allowing me to slowly take control. Lazily, my tongue glided over her bottom lip, tasting sweet like honey, and I nipped over them with my teeth.

“You taste like sugar,” I mused while resting my forehead against hers. 

Every kiss was always spell binding, soul intertwining, and intoxicating. I couldn’t get enough of her. 

“Malcolm joked about me being the flower girl,” Y/N chuckled while linking fingers with mine, slowly dragging me over to our group of friends. 

“Does that mean I get to be the ring bearer?” I teased, swaying our hands together. 

She merely winked before we met up with Jolly and Astrid and as we talked with them, waiting for the ceremony to start, I glanced around to everyone else around us again. 

Nicholas was slow dancing to the music with his girlfriend.

Bryan was busy taking pictures of Chase and Malcolm. 

Davis and Steven were talking with Matt, who kept his eyes on the blue haired girl that was taking pictures of the scenery around us. I didn’t miss the way Matt watched her with love in his eyes; it was the same look I gave Y/N. 

Jesse was already sitting in one of the chairs having an in depth conversation with his date. The girl he met at the taco truck last night. It had been a whirlwind of an evening for him last night with him inviting her back to our place where we let them have the backyard alone. They spent the entire evening talking, Y/N peaking through the slit of the blinds. 

“Angel,” I chastised her while laying in bed. “Stop spying!”

She scoffed while looking over her shoulder. “I am not spying! I just want to make sure they’re alright. Maybe I should bring them something to eat.”

“Get them a fruit basket,” I grumbled to myself before pulling her back into bed with me.

The most softest breeze blew past us causing Jesse to brush away her blonde hair from her shoulder so he could lay his jacket over them. 

“Who’s that?” Astrid wondered, motioning to the girl on Jesse’s left. 

“That is Tay. Her and Jesse met last night at the taco truck down the block from us. I guess they really hit it off,” Y/N said. 

Jolly’s brows pulled together with a look I’d been on the receiving end one too many times. 

Dad Omens.

“He already invited her to a wedding?” Jolly asked while resting a hand on Astrid’s waist. 

I shrugged. “This one is different, Jolly. I’ve never seen Jesse like this. They spent all night just talking.” 

Y/N pointed to someone else, who was sitting at the outdoor bar by himself, hunched over with the weight of his own inner turmoil. Folio soon joined him at the bar, both of them clinking their beers together in a somber cheer.

“I feel bad for those two,” she pointed to Michael and Folio. “Especially Nick. No one deserves to find out they’re the other man.”

I brushed my lips over her hairline. “They’ll be alright. Michael doesn't mind being alone and Nick will bounce back. We’ll make sure of it.” 

Suddenly, Chase and Malcolm called us all over to our seats and I followed Y/N close as she led us to a couple of seats in the front row. As they said, the ceremony was simple, one that we all watched with adoration in our eyes while Chase and Malcolm exchanged their own vows, causing Y/N to sniffle next to me. 

“Fuck,” she blew out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe they’re about to be married.”

I grazed my finger over the exposed skin of her thigh, leaving goosebumps in my wake, and only hummed; too far gone in my exploration of the woman in front of me. 

The setting sun caught the auburn highlights in her hair, recently dying it brown again to cover the blonde roots. It shimmered as she shifted in her seat, the scent of her peach shampoo that I loved so much tickled my nose. It was a sense of familiarity that I found myself craving the nights she was away. But now that she slept in my bed every night, I breathed a little easier knowing she’d never be far from me again. 

I traced over the freckles that peppered her cheeks and nose before lingering over the faint scar on her face she got when she was a kid from falling off her bike. Her laugh when Malcolm made an old Hollow Souls joke made my heart flutter in my chest, those butterflies that only flew for her moving at a rapid pace. The lone tear that slipped down her cheek when she watched Chase hold back his own. 

Just gazing at her beauty was enough to steal all the breath from my lungs as the memories of everything we’d gone through began to play in my mind. It was a very rough road to get to this moment, we both did and said things we regret because of the lack of communication between us. But like everyone told me in those dark moments, it will be worth it. She’ll be by your side once both of you are ready.

Now that I had her, I wanted to make sure she knew I’d never let her go. 

This idea had been circling in my mind for weeks, long before I asked her to move in with me, but seeing Y/N sitting in front of the setting sun that casted her in an aura all her own, I knew that I couldn’t put this off any longer. 

As the ceremony came to a close, Chase and Malcolm sealing their love with a kiss, I rose to clap alongside everyone else in the midst of all my planning. Before I could do anything, I needed to have two very important conversations. 

One via phone and the other via the air around me.

READER

Through the open window, the serenading birds and soft breeze woke me from the heavy slumber I found myself in. It had been a long night spent in the studio with Chase and Malcolm, working on a new single. It had been a while since our album was released and we were itching to get back in the studio to create something. We didn’t have plans on releasing it anytime soon, I just felt inspired to record something. 

Weeks spent writing in my old and battered journal, the scratching of pencil on paper keeping Noah awake most nights. Not that he minded. 

Patting the bed next to me, I expected to feel a warm chest but instead felt cool sheets underneath my palm. Popping my head out from underneath the pillow, I blinked a few times to adjust to the bright rays of the sun and raised a confused brow when I saw the empty space beside me. 

“Noah?” I called out, voice rough from sleep. 

Clearing my throat, I sat up in bed while clutching the sheet to my bare form and gazed around the even emptier room. Salem was nowhere to be seen, meaning that he snuck out earlier knowing that Michael always fed him his breakfast. 

“Fuck, it’s almost ten?” I sighed while dragging a hand over my face. 

Rarely did I sleep in, both Noah and I early risers, but I didn’t crawl into bed until almost 2 a.m. And didn’t fall asleep till almost four because Noah wanted to have a little taste of me. 

When I went to reach for my phone, I noticed a bright orange sticky note posted to the lamp. 

Angel,

I hope you slept in because you deserve it. Sorry you woke up alone but I had to leave early because we have a fun day planned. So eat some breakfast and get ready. I’ll see you soon.

Mochi.

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread to my face and the giggles that fell from my lips as I nearly stumbled out of bed while tripping over the sheet to run into the adjacent bathroom. I didn’t need to bring much of my things when I moved in since Noah already had a lot of my necessities here already. 

As I turned the shower dial all the way to hot, I let the steam fill the bathroom just as my eyes landed on another bright orange sticky note on the mirror. 

“What are you up to, Noah?” I chuckled while ripping off the sticky note. 

Angel,

Somehow I knew you would want to get ready before making yourself something to eat. Please make sure you don’t skip out on breakfast. You’re going to need your strength today. 

Mochi.

Since I was already naked, I hastily jumped into the awaiting shower and didn’t bother taking my time. Wherever Noah was, he was waiting for me. With the black towel wrapped around me, I hurried from the bathroom into the large walk in closet, clicking on the light. It glowed over both mine and Noah’s clothes and also over yet another sticky note that was tapped to a pair of folded clothes on the counter in the middle of the closet. 

Angel,

You know I would never tell you what to wear but with what I had planned today, I want you to be comfortable so I chose an outfit I think would best suit that. 

Don’t forget to eat something. 

Mochi.

Dressing in the pair of leggings and the familiar white Bad Omens shirt with the crown of thorns logo he chose, I slipped on a pair of white vans and tossed the large black knitted sweater over my shoulder. Make up was minimal and I decided to leave my hair down, the short waves not bothering me much. Before leaving the closet, I did a once over in the mirror, the light overhead catching the silver chain around my neck and wrist; the ones Noah gifted me on my birthday. All this time later and I never took them off. 

Squealing with excitement, I made sure to turn off all the lights in the bedroom before stepping into the kitchen where I saw Michael and Jesse leaning against the large kitchen island. Both of them had wide grins and Jesse motioned towards the fridge. 

“Open it.”

The fridge rattled from the force I used to open it and I squealed when I saw that familiar orange sticky note posted on a can of Celsius. 

Angel,

I don’t understand how you and Matt drink these but you’re going to need it today. Look on the stove.

Mochi.

Slamming the fridge shut, I pushed past Micheal and Jesse who continued to watch with wide grins as I picked up the goodie bag from Fika that was sitting on top of the stove. 

Angel,

I wanted to make you a giant spread but didn’t have the time. So enjoy a breakfast sandwich from our favorite place. See you soon.

Mochi.

I swiftly turned on my heels and narrowed my eyes at the two men. “What has he planned?” 

Michael shrugged while picking up Salem off the ground, holding him to his chest. My cat purred loudly and buried his face in the crook of Michael's neck. 

“I don’t know. You’re wasting time here talking to us about it though.” 

My eyes widened. “Well, where am I supposed to meet him?” 

Jesse simply winked before taking a large sip of his coffee and held another fresh cup in his hand. “Tay’s waiting for this so have fun today, Y/N.”

If I had time, I would ask how things were going between them, but while scarfing down the breakfast sandwich and chugging half of the Celsius I ran to my car. On the steering wheel was a sticky note; Noah’s familiar chicken scratch of handwriting made me smile. 

Angel, 

5333 Zoo Drive, Los Angeles, CA 90027. Also, peek at the new playlist I made for you on Spotify. 

Mochi.

“The zoo!” I squealed while typing in the address on my phone and then checking out the new Spotify playlist. 

Redo Date. 

With a quick scroll through, I noticed it was filled with songs that mean a lot to us and the first one I chose was ultimately, the most important one. 

“I'm not afraid of the war you've come to wage against my sins. I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend,” Noah’s soft voice came through the speakers as I pulled out of the driveway, heading straight towards the man that waited for me. 

By some miracle, the usual heavy traffic was light this morning and I was able to make it to the zoo in under twenty minutes. Immediately my eyes recognized Noah’s car and I pulled into the empty spot next to it. After checking my make up in the mirror, I slid over my sunglasses before stepping out of the car. It was a somewhat cool spring day and I did not need my sweater quite yet. I tied it around my waist just as my eyes caught a bright orange sticky note posted on the inside of Noah’s car window. 

Angel,

I’ll be waiting for you at the entrance. See you soon. 

But if you’re not angel and you’re reading this, that’s fucking weird. 

Mochi.

Before I could take a step, my phone buzzed in my purse and I felt my heart drop at the message that appeared on screen. 

Dad 🖤: Hey buttercup. If you get a few minutes, feel free to call me. I miss you and wondering if we can finally talk about a visit again. Bring Noah this time. Love you and talk soon.

He’d been sick on and off for the last few weeks, more recently feeling healthy. But with the major time difference and how busy my schedule had become, it was hard for me to find time to call him. I did know that in a few months both Bad Omens and Hollow Souls would be busy with their own upcoming tours so maybe I should find time for a visit before then. Making a mental note to call him later, I put my phone on D.N.D and slipped it back into my purse. 

Skipping over towards the entrance of the busy zoo, I quickly spotted the 6’3” tattooed build of the man that held my heart and soul. The invisible string that kept us together vibrated the closer I got. He stood in the midst of the chaos of parents trying to wrangle their kids and teachers doing their best to keep their students in line. Noah wore a simple outfit of black shorts and a matching shirt with a design of an avocado. His growing hair was kept neat under his hat and those striking almond eyes were covered with sunglasses. It was almost futile to hide who he was, those gorgeous legs and tattoos on display for anyone to recognize him. 

Rarely ever did we go out in busy public places like this with the fear of being seen together because we were such private people now. We didn’t want anyone to know our personal business unless they were actively in our lives. 

Almost immediately his hand reached towards mine, pulling me into his chest to lay a tender kiss on my lips. 

“Hi, angel,” he brushed his nose along mine. 

“Hi, mochi.” 

But then, something bright and orange on his chest caught my eye. 

Angel, 

I love you.

Mochi.

Tears welled in my eyes as I took off the sticky note from his chest and placed it in my purse along with all the others from today, besides the one in his car. Noah noticed a tear fall and was quick to catch it with the pad of his thumb. Even though I couldn’t see it due to his sunglasses, I knew his gaze was bouncing between mine. 

“What’s the matter? Did you not like the notes?” He asked with worry etched in his voice.

I grasped his shirt, holding him close to me. “I loved it. It was so thoughtful. No one has done anything like this for me before. Everything you do for me, Noah still ceases to amaze me. I don’t deserve-.”

Noah cut my words off with another kiss. “Don’t say that, Y/N. You deserve all of this and more for everything you’ve gone through. I want to be able to give you that, alright?” 

When I nodded, he wrapped his arm around his shoulder to pull me closer to him before walking through the entrance of the zoo. 

“You know,” I patted his tummy. “I should pay this time. Since you paid the last time.”

Noah chuckled at the memory and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

"What the fuck?" I murmured while rifling through my purse.

"Something wrong?"

Gazing up through my sunglasses, I saw Noah looking at me with concern. He pocketed his glasses so I could see the browns of his eyes sparkle in the sunlight.

"No. Well yea," I sighed letting my purse fall to my side. "I must have left my wallet on the bus. You guys ahead. I'll see you back at the venue."

It all happened so fast; Noah pulling out his own wallet, asking for two tickets, and handing the person behind the counter the correct amount of change.

"Noah," I scolded. "You didn't have to do that!"

"Come on. They're waiting for us," Noah said with an extended arm in front of me.

Of course, Noah paid this time and ushered me in through the entrance with a hand at the small of my back. 

“I’ll let you get it the next time,” he assured me with a nod. 

No he wouldn’t. 

Linking our fingers together, we stopped at the first exhibit and I gazed up at him with a smirk. 

“Chase thought you were staring at my ass that day.” 

Noah snorted with a lopsided grin. “I definitely was.”

With a playful laughter, I let Noah guide me along the way of the zoo, hand in hand.

CHASE

Running a hand over my freshly buzzed hair, I sighed and leaned back into the chair. Malcolm raised his head from his laptop screen, giving me a look of great pause. 

“Did I cut it too short?” He wondered. 

I shook my head, letting him know that he did a great job at cutting my hair. He always did. Playing with the black band around my left finger, I let out another long sigh. 

“I think we should call mixing today. We’ve been going after this track the last couple of days,” I clicked out of the program on the computer before motioning for Malcolm to do the same. 

“We have been meaning to catch up on Survivor,” he reminded as he set the laptop on the desk, following me out of our studio. 

Y/N’s room was the largest one in the apartment so when she moved out, it was almost a given that we would turn it into a studio. Once we were settled on the couch with blankets and snacks, Malcolm loaded up Paramount Plus as I ran my fingers through his long auburn curls. They were unruly today, something I admired every time I stared at him. 

Even though we were officially married now for a couple of weeks, nothing really changed. 

Before we could hit play on the next episode, my phone buzzed next to me, the contact name making me furrow my brows. 

“Why is Y/N’s dad calling you?” Malcolm wondered. 

Shrugging, I hit the green button. “Hey. Mr. Y/L/N. What’s up?” 

A deep cough shook my phone. “Hi, son. I don’t mean to bother you.” 

Malcolm and I shared a look. 

“Don’t even worry about it. Isn’t it the middle of the night where you’re at?” I asked. 

There was a lot of rustling in the background in the midst of all of the voices which made me sit straight up, spine going rigid when an all too familiar beeping sound echoed loudly through the speaker of my phone. 

“Is Y/N around? I’ve been trying to text her but I haven’t heard from her.” 

Malcolm bit the inside of his cheek when we heard how ragged her dad’s voice sounded. 

“She’s out with Noah right now. Some sort of redo date,” Malcolm chuckled. 

“Oh,” the sadness was evident in her fathers voice before he was hit with another coughing fit. This one heavier and deeper. 

I rubbed at the back of my neck. “You still have that cough, huh? It’s been awhile.” 

It took a moment before Y/N’s dad’s voice came through the speaker. “Oh, it’s nothing. I promise. Have Y/N call me if you get a hold of her, would you son?” 

“Sure thing,” I sighed, knowing that whatever was going on with him, he wouldn’t talk to me about it. 

As soon as I hung up, I motioned to Malcolm. “Text her. Her dad didn’t sound good and I didn’t like what I heard in the background.”

While he typed away on his phone, he glanced over at me. “You don’t think he’s-?”

I dragged my hands over my face. “I don’t know what else to think, Mal.”

He gave me a loving squeeze on my thigh just as his text came through the group chat with the three of us.

Mal: Sweets, have you talked to your dad at all? He still has that nasty cough and it doesn’t sound good. 

This user is on Do Not Disturb. Notify them of this message?

“Fuck,” Malcolm muttered under his breath before hitting the notify message. 

I gently grazed my fingers over his back, trying my best to soothe his worries away. 

“Let’s give her a few minutes and then maybe text Noah,” I suggested before we ultimately did our best to keep our minds on the television, not the wellbeing of Y/N’s dad. 

NOAH

Cool breeze like an autumn night brushed along our bodies as we ran down the beach together, Y/N’s laughter sounded like a gentle melody to my ears. The sun was about to set, casting us in a glimmer of moonlight that mirrored off of the dark ocean. Birds flew away from us as I chased Y/N up and down the sandy dunes, doing my best to drag her into the cool water with me. 

“Careful, angel!” I called up to her as she walked along a rocky wall that led out into the water. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

She gave me a wicked smile from above. "Would you catch me if I fell?"

Even though the season changed throughout the day and with the waves crashing around us, I grinned up at her. "Though the skies are turning gray, I'll never let you fall, angel."

As we stood at the edge of the waves now, it soaking our ankles, I watched in slight horror as Y/N walked deeper into the water. 

“What are you doing?” I chuckled while shaking my head. “It’s freezing!”

She shrugged and ran her fingers through the waves. "Come on, the water's fine! Stop being a pussy." 

I raised a brow, the parallels suddenly becoming evident. Kicking off my shoes, I was thankful this time I wore shorts and not skinny jeans as I followed her into the waves. 

"You're insane," I chuckled after reaching her in a couple of large strides. 

Her hands linked behind my neck, playing with the ends of my “ocean fucked hair” with a stunning smile on her face. Both of us were knee deep in the water, our clothes soaked, but neither of us cared. The way she always came alive and free out here made me smile.

“My little duck,” she breathed.

“My little crow,” I mused before capturing her lips in a slow and methodical kiss. 

Every part of it was thought out. The way my tongue brushed along her bottom lip before exploring every inch of her mouth. Her hands continued to play with my hair while mine gripped tight against her soft skin, leaving half crescent shapes from my nails.

"Fuck!" I cursed when cold water splashed up at my chest, Y/N doubling over in laughter as she splashed me again. 

Still reeling from our kiss, I bent low at my knees with a sinister smirk. "You think that's funny?" 

"No!" She began backing away from me, doing her best to walk through the waves. "Don't. I'm sorry." 

Y/N was laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath and seeing how alive she looked right now made my heart soar into my throat. I nearly clutched my chest at the feeling. 

"NOWAAH! NO!" 

I tackled her into the water, bringing her underneath the waves with me, our laughter carrying up to the night sky. 

Once we were back on our blanket, somewhat dry and staring back out into the water, Y/N squeezed my hand. 

“Thank you for today, mochi. This was a great redo date,” she rested her head against my shoulder. 

I brushed a kiss along her forehead. “Anything for you, angel.” 

We stayed like that for a few beats of silence, until my always racing mind thought of something. 

“I think I have an idea for the next music video,” I said quietly, gazing at the empty beach. 

We’d been the only ones here since I chose a very secluded area, which made what I planned next even more special. 

“Oh, is it the music video?” Y/N raised a brow before walking a few paces in front of me, then looking over her shoulder. 

She was too far for my liking so leaving the guitar behind along with the song I had planned to play for her, I followed her down the beach again until we came to a sudden stop. 

“I still want to play that song for you,” I said. 

“Just five more minutes. I love the way the waves sound right now,” she replied. 

The sound of the waves crashing echoed all around us, trapping us together. The salty brine lingered on my lips as I licked them, watching Y/N stare out into the vastness of the ocean in front of her. She stood with arms stretched wide and an even wider smile on her face. 

"Do you remember what you told me the last time we were standing on a beach together?" I asked while brushing away the hair that blew into her face. 

With the hair tie around my wrist, I helped her by putting her hair up into a small bun.

She giggled with a nod. "It can't rain all the time."

The memory of us together, all that time ago, was one of the few that replayed in my mind on a loop. Her face filled with so much worry about how she would deal with the Trey situation and afraid that she would drown in the rain. 

But now she glowed with the last few rays of the sunset, the metaphorical halo she wore proving why her nickname fit her so well. 

Angel. 

With one arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her close to my chest, I dug my toes deeper into the sand trying to keep myself grounded. The entire day had been perfect, our redo date becoming a new favorite memory of mine, but there was still one thing left to do. I wanted to do it while I played the song for her but my soul was yearning for it now.

My other hand was stuffed into the pocket of my shorts and it felt like it was wrapped around a weight. My heart would not stop pounding in my chest and I was sure Y/N could feel it against her cheek. 

"Angel," I began with a long breath. 

Just then, her phone began to ring causing her to pull it out of her sweater with a sigh. She went to ignore the call but when I noticed the caller's I.D, I motioned for her to stop. 

"That's the fourth time they've called today, Y/N. You should answer it." 

She frowned. "But I don't want to ruin the rest of our night." 

I pressed a soft kiss to her lips, humming at the taste of her lip gloss. Lately, she has been tasting like honey.

"It's alright. Answer it." 

Nodding, she accepted the call with a smile. "Hey. Sorry, I've-." 

The words died on her tongue as she fell away from me, those bright eyes dulling like the dark cloud that suddenly formed overhead, crackling and booming into the air. Frigid rain drowned us in place and with an unimaginable weight that anchored us, I watched as the light around her halo shattered. 

[littlerequiem]

the hitchhiker's guide to isekai ˚⁎⁺ levi x gn!reader

CONTENT — Levi getting isekai'd into our world, (questionable) humor, slice of life, swearing, Levi is a boomer when it comes to technology, pop culture refs, suggestive, mentions of bondage (wc: 1.1k words). Written for Day 3 - Isekai, Levi Month 2024 - @levievent

For as long as you could remember, Levi Ackerman had always been your favorite fictional character. There was something about his strength, his empathy, and his kindness that drew you to him.

Then, one day, the universe delivered him on a silver platter.

It was midsummer night when you found him. There he was, lying in your new antique wardrobe, groggy and half asleep, dark hair tousled to the side. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing; was this really your favorite anime character, in the flesh?

Before you could think on the logistics of it all, however, Levi was already reaching for the small knife tucked in his boot.

And threatening you with it.

It all happened in a flash.

With your heart drumming in your chest, you remember fumbling for words, looking straight into those sharp, silver eyes you’d always imagined must shine like starlight (and gods, they truly did).

Looking back, your first words lacked a certain decorum. “Wh—who—is this some kind of skit, huh? Are you some kind of pervert?!?”

Levi looked at you then like you were a complete idiot.

As it turned out, Levi was not, in fact, a pervert, nor did he mean to end up here in the first place.

Instead, he told you the hard facts: that he was Levi Ackerman, Captain of the Survey Corps. That he owned the same closet in his office, only in his own world. That the last thing he remembers was falling asleep in this piece of furniture, an attempt to hide from Hange who’d been up in arms trying to convince him to help with an experiment.

Your reality, it seemed, was connected to the Attack on Titan universe through a mysterious wardrobe.

(Like fucking Narnia.)

It was then that it was decided that he would stay with you until he found a way home.

A month has passed since this first moment, and to say that your daily life has been altered would be an understatement. You’re living with one of your personal heroes, after all—not that you let him know you view him as such.

Levi is trying to get back to his world, and in the meantime, Levi gets to discover your world: the joys of washing machines, the taste of matcha tea, the ease of hoovers, rock music.

And today, he’s uncovering the mystery that is the internet.

“I don’t understand,” Levi grumbles, his voice rough like sandpaper. Lines of tension form across his pale forehead, his gaze fixed on your laptop propped on the kitchen table. “People spend their time looking at cat... paintings?”

He’s perusing your blog.

“These are actually photographs that you’re looking at, but I suppose people also love drawings of cats. Cats are a very popular topic, see,” you explain, coming closer as you stop him from clicking on a sketchy looking pop up: ‘Free iPhone 15! Claim Yours Now’.

Levi's charged gaze follows as he watches you go about it; you have the thought he smells nice, like fresh linen and tea.

You clear your throat, withdrawing from his personal space. “Um... anyway, that’s not all you can do with the internet. People use it for all sorts of things: you can look up the news, the weather, forums…”

He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair. “What’s that? Sounds like a disease.”

Ah, where to start...

“Forums are online spaces where people can discuss things. You can host debates, provide instructions, and more. Personally, I use them to gush about things I love. Like books!”

Levi clicks his tongue. “So, a bookclub?”

“Mm, yes, and no. Like sure, on the forum I'm a mod for, I love to discuss the plot, the characters, and the writing, but I also just enjoy goofing around with my friends and sharing memes.”

“Me...mes.” Levi looks puzzled by this word.

You stifle a snort. “Memes are like... jokes. Only sometimes, they're also cultural staples.” At his skeptical expression, you shrug. “I guess this world is different from yours, in that respect. We have... less immediate dangers, more free time.”

“That's not a bad thing,” he mutters, tone oddly soft. He averts his tepid gaze, looking back to your blog as he exhales through his nose. “But your world still makes no sense to me. Especially all of this.”

He nods towards the web page.

“It’s okay, the internet takes a while to get used to," you say. "Even for me... I constantly feel like an old crone whenever I hear all the lingo kids are coming up with these days.”

“Hmph.”

Levi looks unimpressed. So, forums—and the internet, it seems—aren’t his thing. Probably for the better—the last thing you need right now is for him to realize there’s a whole fanbase devoted to discussing his character (not to mention the other, less PG-friendly aspects of the conversation).

“Hey, how about we take a break?" You tilt your head, flashing him an easy smile. "You’ve been staring at the screen all morning. It can be a strain on your eyesight.”

Levi’s half-lidded stare crinkles, his lips pursing into a thoughtful pout, the same look he gets whenever you throw him scraps of information about your world and its strange customs.

“I was planning to make some tea,” you add, “want a cup?”

“… if you're making one anyway,” he mumbles, scowling in a way that reminds you of a grumpy cat. Cute.

You head towards your small kitchen, grabbing Levi’s favorite tea bag and laying out clean cups. As the kettle groans alive and you eventually hear that familiar sizzling that tells you the water’s come to a boil, another noise coming from behind garners your attention.

“Oi, something happened to your cat photo-thing,” you overhear Levi drawl.

You turn with a raised brow.

That’s when you notice that Levi’s somehow ended up on your desktop page, the familiar sight of your screensaver (more cats!) appearing into view.

But that’s also when you notice the mouse is hovering dangerous close to one of your folders... your babygirl folder.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no...

“DON’T CLICK THAT!” you plead, attempting to rush to his side to avoid the embarrassment of a lifetime.

Too late. Levi has entered the folder and somehow managed to click on one of the more scandalous pictures; your peripheral catches his expression, and it's the most stupor you've seen on his face yet... and is that pink dusting his cheeks?

Because Levi is looking straight at one of the fanarts you’d saved of him months ago.

Where his pixelated counterpart is tied up. Stark naked.

Well, shit.

— Masterlist / Join my taglist

[pinkaditty]

He Knows

(Subaru Kagami x MC X Haku Kusanagi; Tokyo Debunker)

omg guess who's back!!!!! im posting porn as per usual. 2day's porn is about tokyo debunkers!! recently started playing that game and WOW haku kusanagi has stolen my heart holy shit man. i picked him and then proceeded 2 watch him jump off a burning ledge it was really something!!! anyways the more of him i saw the more of him i just ended up liking. like when i found out he's left handed i jus melted on impact bro wtf's wrong with me. anyways here have the result of my 72 hour long haku kusanagi brainrot: porn.

summary: haku's been avoiding you. it's because you're with subaru all the damn time. it's only at a party where you're in close proximity that things get... interesting.

a/n: note that the tokyo debunkers characters have no confirmed ages. i am running on the assumption that, since they refer to themselves as adults in the game, drink, smoke, and gamble that they are at least in the college student age range. also, i have never heard of a high school with a chancellor. typically it's universities that have those. i am running on the assumption that all characters are at least 18 years of age. if canon ages come out and turn out to be lower, i will delete this! thank you <3

cw: MINORS DNI, suggestive, no real smut happening but u get kinda close, mostly buildup tbh, self-indulgent (pls like this i spent hours writing it), gn!mc bc mc isn't described physically at all, strongly implied sexual relations, semi-public?, slight cucking if u wanna call it that?, subaru x reader x haku yea

MINORS DNI!!!!! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY. THANK YOU.

Casino parties in Sinostra were a lot different from Frostheim parties. 

Where Frostheim parties were the peak of elegance; blue and white and silver, the mood just as frosty as the scenery, the dress code limited to the finest silks and satins, the food limited to the neatest hors d'oeuvres, and the conversation limited to humble whispers; Sinostra parties were the peak of gaucheness; all colors gaudy and neon, the mood joyful and jubilant and raunchy, the dress code ranging from evening dresses to last week’s uniform, the food being whatever was served at the nearest table, and the conversation loud and constantly overlapping. If you asked Haku, he didn’t have a preference. Parties were parties. It didn’t matter what kind.

He was here to have a good time. That was somewhat dampened when he realized he’d have no choice but to hang around you. He’d been avoiding you for a reason, after all.

It had been recently when he realized why his heart thrummed like a drum when you were nearby, the beat loud and monotonous in his ears. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he’d scarcely felt, and when he realized what it was, he almost didn’t believe it was genuine. Sure, you were attractive, but all his flirting was, at best, to get your attention and to mess with someone cute. Who doesn’t like attention from an attractive person? He blew it off for the longest time, chalking it up to nerves at how you would respond to his brazen flirting, or perhaps surprise when you would talk to him with a sincere glint in your eye. It was crazy, falling for someone who might be doomed to die, but it was like he couldn’t help himself. Something about how you kept going, even despite that, accepting your potential fate but seeking a way to rewrite it all the same—it impressed him. You had the resilience of a ghoul, a will strong enough to devour a curse. So be it. He promised to himself from the moment he saw Taiga attempt to throw you out of the train window that he wouldn’t let you succumb to such horrors just yet. He had thought that, with the mesmer matches, his promise would be fulfilled. But when your eyes shined with recognition upon meeting his gaze again on that train, he knew he’d bitten off far more than he could chew. So be it. His fate was sealed, as it always had been. 

And, of course, like any romance story, you’d gotten quite close with another guy, Subaru. The odd pangs in his heart rang quite clear through his head when he saw the two of you walking together on campus yet again, or sitting together at mealtimes yet again, or when you’d come by Hotarubi to visit him yet again. He felt childish, feeling an odd jealousy bubbling up in him that he immediately tried to tamp down. He didn’t like feeling that way, not at all. He figured he’d have to rid himself of this somehow, so he distanced himself. Yet, the pull towards you was still strong and hard to ignore.

And then he started falling for you, harder, even after he’d implemented distance, completely unplanned. So, yeah, being here with you after weeks of attempting to avoid your presence after such a revelation was something of a downer. And, super awkward. But whatever, he could take it. He didn’t want to walk aimlessly around this party and see something he shouldn’t, so he was stuck with his dormmates, particularly Subaru, who was stuck—albeit, happily—with you. 

The party was going alright so far. The alcohol had given him a light buzz, enough to at least alleviate his nerves, and relax just slightly. He sank into the couch he sat on, adjacent to the bar. Next to him was Subaru, next to Subaru was Zenji, and next to Zenji was you. At least there was some distance, but his eyes met yours in fleeting glances quite often. It was minimally frustrating, but the buzz helped him ignore it. You were engaged in friendly, flamboyant conversation with Zenji, Subaru seemed a little shifty, though that could be chalked up to being in a loud environment, and Haku was leaning back, swirling his drink in his hands. The endless noise of loud voices and gambling wins and losses echoed in his ears as he did all he could to refrain from indulging much more. But your presence wasn’t exactly helping. 

He turned back to you, to give you another fleeting glance, but his eyes landed on Subaru instead. He seemed a little out of it, his skin shining in the low light with a thin layer of sweat, his breathing heavy and laboured, his face flushed a bright pink. Haku stared at him curiously, concern creasing his eyebrows and quirking his lips downwards. He reached a hand out to gently pat Subaru on the shoulder, who flinched suddenly. Haku looked at him quizzically, his eyebrows furrowing further. “You good?” He examined Subaru’s condition further, noticing his bangs beginning to stick to his forehead from the sweat. “Do we need to leave?”

Haku’s mumbled queries gained the attention of Zenji, who glanced over his shoulder. Upon seeing Subaru’s state, he frets, turning towards him and grabbing his chin, tilting his head back and forth. Haku wished he wouldn’t do that, and hoped onlookers assumed Subaru was just shaking his head. Not that anyone would be looking in this direction, anyway. He notices you curiously peering over Zenji’s shoulder. You showed no signs of concern, rather interest.

“Oh my! Are you alright? You’re quite flushed!” Zenji’s voice was pitched with worry, as he further examined Subaru’s face. “Did you perhaps—ah, but you’re not holding anything…” Zenji tapped his fingers to his lips, his eyebrows furrowing with concern. Subaru shook his head at both Zenji and Haku, and waved his hand.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Haku heard a slight tremor in Subaru’s voice.

“Are you sure?” Zenji pressed, leaning towards Subaru, his eyes searching his face for any signs of further ailment.

“I’m fine! Please, enjoy yourselves.” To his credit, Subaru hid the tremor this time, but Haku could still sense something was wrong. However, he decided to let it go, assuming that they wouldn’t be here much longer. 

He took note of your lack of concern. He found it odd, but didn’t think on it much. You were close with Subaru, but maybe not as close as he thought. He hated how the thought of the two of you not being as close planted a seed of hope in his heart. Still, wasn’t concern a normal reaction to a friend being ill?

Haku let it go. They’d be out of here soon, anyway. 

Time seems to crawl by and speed up at the same time, the chaotic haze of the party warping his perception of time. Before he knows it, he’s on his second drink, even after internally swearing he wouldn’t overindulge. And before he knows it, he’s lost count of how many times he’s glanced your way, each time holding your gaze longer than the last. His pining was ridiculous. He felt like a teenager. And the drink in his hand was only a reminder of his low self-control, further shaming him. He sighs and places it down on the table in front of the couch, promptly leaning back in his seat. Once he falsely settles in, his finds his eyes drifting to you again. He quickly snaps his gaze away, but not before he spots Subaru’s quivering figure out of the corner of his eye. He turns to him again, concern once again etching itself into his expression. 

Subaru was trembling now, slouching just slightly, which was unlike him. His chest heaved with the effort to breathe normally, and he was sweating more now, more of his bangs stuck to his forehead. Instead of the modest blush pink his face had been before, he was now a bright red, color spreading from his cheeks to his ears and even to his neck. Alright, this was too much. Even Haku knew Subaru was pushing himself too far. He sat upright and gently placed a hand on Subaru’s back, to which he flinched again. Haku’s concern quickly turned to worry, and his hand moved to Subaru’s shoulder instead, leaning closer to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of him. “Hey, Subaru.” Subaru turned to him, still heaving and blinking at him blearily. “...We should go.” Subaru promptly shook his head, despite his body still trembling. The movement alerted Zenji yet again, who turned to Subaru, noticing his trembling form.

“My goodness, look at you!” Zenji grabbed Subaru’s face, squishing his cheeks. “Are you well? Do we need to take you to Montkranken?” Haku sighed as Subaru shook his head again, stubborn as a mule on this.

“N-No, I swear I’m fine, truly.” His voice shook audibly. Haku had half a mind to take him to Montkranken by force, but knew that no good would come of making Subaru any more uncomfortable. 

Zenji hesitantly let go of Subaru’s face, staring at him dubiously. He carefully inspected him, checking his complexion and forehead. As Zenji flitted back and forth around Subaru, Haku found his gaze once again slipping towards you. This time he didn’t stop it, deciding to let it go so he could hold your gaze at least once more before he shifted his full focus to Subaru. However, he notices you aren’t looking at Subaru, or Zenji, or him. You’re staring off to the left, as though watching the people of the party. He’s confused. Why are you so nonchalant about this? Even before, no concern was on your face, mere interest. And now, it’s like you couldn’t care less. It didn’t seem quite like you not to care about one of your friends. It was quite confusing and frustrating, watching you act so nonchalantly, hardly noticing Subaru’s ailment. But, whatever. Maybe you were just distracted. As he turns his gaze back to Subaru, about to gently encourage him to stand so they could leave, he notices your hand moving out of the corner of his eye. Your hand disappears into your pocket and shifts a bit more. Simultaneously, Subaru lurches forward, grunting. His whole body was trembling now, and his fingers dug into his arms as he desperately tried to keep it together. Zenji immediately leans over, placing a hand on Subaru’s back. Haku feels a rush of panic and leans towards him. “Subaru! What’s—”

Haku stops in his tracks. On the side of Subaru’s neck, facing Haku, there were small red and purple bruises. For a moment, Haku’s confused. What are those markings on the side of his neck? And what’s got him so—

Out of nowhere, something clicks. 

As Zenji continues fussing over Subaru, Haku slowly lifts his gaze to you. He finds your gaze boring straight into him. A shock runs down his spine. 

No. No way.

Haku watches as you smirk at him and you pull something out of your pocket, purposely angling the object so only he could see it. It is something very closely resembling a remote. His eyes flick between the remote and your face, your eyes still holding him captive. He tears his gaze away from you and the remote, and turns to Subaru’s trembling form, Zenji fussing over him. He turns back to you, observing the wicked smile on your face. This can’t be real, right?

He watches as your smirk widens, and you press a button on the remote, slipping it back into your pocket. 

Subaru groans, crumpling further forward, immediately pressing a hand to his mouth to muffle his voice. Haku studies him carefully, watching his expression. Subaru’s eyes roll back just once and the corner of his lips turn upwards in a smile, peeking behind his palm pressed tight against his mouth. 

Oh. Oh god.

Something akin to heat pools in Haku’s lower abdomen. He finds himself gripping the cushion of the sofa he’s sitting on so hard his knuckles turn white. Haku swallows thickly, and jerks his gaze back up to you, finding your gaze boring straight into him once again. Subaru’s muffled grunts grow louder, and now that he knows it’s out of pleasure and not pain, Haku feels the urge to squirm. He feels warm all of a sudden, his own body beginning to tremble with nerves and heat. His lips part as he breathes heavily, his gaze flickering from you, to your pocket, to Subaru, and back to you. Maybe it was a bad idea to have so much alcohol. Your gaze, the knowledge of what was really going on, and Subaru’s grunts—which were quickly evolving into moans, further confusing Zenji—all made quite a potent concoction, and with the alcohol running through his system, it really only served to shame him further yet again. 

Shame is all he can think about… Even as a tent forms in his pants.

a/n: YIPPEE!!!!!!! i finished at long last

also here have this fuckass meme i made thinkging abt all the fics im writing atm:

i guess i have a niche. my roommate literally asked me as i was telling her abt this fic "is it gonna be cuckold" and i was like "WHATEKSLSJK?!?!?!??!" and then i realized. i write a lot of these fics and call them all self-indulgent. is something wrong with me?

anyways wrapping this up!!!!!!! note that i appreciate likes, reblogs, and comments!!! please, tell me all about how much you enjoyed my work, if you did!!!! i really like when people tell me they loved it bc it encourages me 2 keep going ahhhh!!! until next time, readers!!!!!

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 35

part 1 | part 34 | ao3

cw: Fred slander apologies to any Freds

“Okayyy,” Robin says with a shaky laugh as she points at everyone in the booth, going around the circle and introducing them in a single breath. “Amy-Tim-Vickie-Beth-Grant-Jordan-Fred, aaand Nancy. You, um, you already know— Nancy... r-right,” she stammers at Steve’s pointed glare, “so, um. Anyway!”

She grabs him by the shoulders; shoves him front and center like he’s a really cool new toy she brought to class for show-and-tell. “Everyone, this is Steve! Steve, this is—”

“You don’t have to say it again.”

“Oh, thank god.” She slides into the booth with a relieved huff, and Steve scoots in after her.

Despite the awkward tension and that bonkers introduction, everyone at the table does their best to act cool, to say hello and make him feel welcome while they wait for the band to start. Grant slides him the basket of fries, and Jordan compliments his watch, and Vickie asks if he’s coming to the last football game of the season, voice high and shy as she rambles about how ‘Robin’s solo in the halftime show is sooo good, you really should come see it!’ and wow.

Is Robin vain or something? She’s got a crush on a clone of herself.

Steve munches on fries and keeps an eye on the stage, hoping to catch Eddie before the show starts, and the whole thing’s… not so bad, actually. Kind of decent. Almost nice, until Fred fucking Benson ruins it. Steve’s saying something about the basketball team’s chances this season when the little asshole rolls his eyes and leans in to stage-whisper to Nancy loud enough for the whole table to hear, “The Hair? Seriously? What’s he even doing here?”

...Yeah, fuck this. “He’s getting a drink,” Steve says and storms off to the bar.

—

He’s not getting that drink.

Turns out a tenner isn’t a big enough bribe to get a bartender to break the law, so Steve nurses a diet Coke that he pretends is a lager and refuses to even look in the direction of the booth. Fucking Fred. What an asshole.

And what a stupid name, too, like— who looks at a baby and thinks, yep, looks like a Fred to me? Ugh.

Robin, bless her, has the good sense to leave him alone for a couple minute until he cools off, but then the music starts and she comes over to shout ‘stop moping and dance with me!’ and that’s the end of that.

—

The band is fucking awesome.

Steve doesn't know what he expected, but it wasn't this: high energy, tight rhythms, a driving beat that makes him want to dance. The bass reverberates through the floor, up his shins and through his chest, and for a second it almost feels like he has his hearing back, like his whole body is a wall of noise, filled with the wail of Eddie’s guitar, the scratchy rasp of his singing voice, and Eddie's…

Eddie’s amazing. Lightning in a bottle as he bounces around the stage, hips moving to the rhythm, fingers blurring over the frets. He looks so fucking hot. Denim vest, silver rings, jeans showing a delicious amount of skin — skin Steve has put his mouth on; tattoos he’s tasted with his tongue.

God, he can’t wait to kiss him. Is probably going to combust if it doesn’t happen tonight. Or like, come in his jeans, more realistically.

They dance and jump and shout along to the covers they recognize, and when Eddie dips backstage to let the band do an instrumental thing, Steve shakes the sweat out of his eyes and heads to the bar for a water.

—

"Mind if I join you?" Nancy asks.

Steve sighs. This is what he gets for wandering off alone. Robin's still by the stage, twirling Vickie around swing-style to a frantic, jazzy drum solo in a move that's actually pretty impressive even if it makes no sense with the music, and Steve resigns himself to his fate and nods at the empty stool beside him.

They sip their drinks in silence — awkward and charged, old hurts hanging between them like static waiting to strike. "Sorry about Fred," she says eventually. "And- and for me, too, I guess."

Steve huffs a laugh. Appreciates the sentiment, even if it doesn't change anything. "It's fine."

She glances over at him, that journalistic focus etched into her face. “How are you?” she asks softly.

Another laugh under his breath. He thinks about answering her honestly, just to entertain himself. Pictures the way her face would fall as he went on and on: "Oh, you know. My mom left me to go ‘rest' in Evanston, like I don’t know that means she went to rehab without saying a goddamn word, and when I called my aunt to yell at her about it, she said some ice cold shit about how I should be happy my mom left me, because now I can keep the money from the lot fees all to myself, and I said ‘what lot fees?’ and it turns out mom had been hiding, like, a lot of money from me while I stressed out about our budget for months. Oh! And also my dad’s dead, but you knew that already. And also I want to hump my neighbor against a brick wall so bad my dick is turning purple. How are you?"

"...Steve?" she tries after a moment.

“I’m good,” he settles on. Gives the bullshit answer because that's all they've ever been to each other, isn't it? Bullshit. "Yeah, I'm good," he tells her, "and you?"

"I'm fine." Her smile is tight, bags under her tired eyes, and then she sighs out long and slow, "Actually, I'm not. Everything's been..."

Steve tries to listen, but he just can't bring himself to care. Doesn't want to hear about whatever drama she's going through with the guy she dumped him for. And then Eddie comes back out on stage, and he's looking out into the crowd, and no fucking way is Steve letting him look over here and think he's cozied up with Nance. No fucking way. Nancy's ruined enough good things for him already.

"Sorry," he cuts her off, not feeling sorry at all as he stands up and walks off without looking back at her.

"Steve?" She calls after him. "Hey- wait!"

Steve makes his way to the front of the crowd.

“Howdy,” Eddie greets the room, stepping up to the mic with a Hollywood-worthy grin. His guitar’s strapped over his back, the neck pointing to the ground, and he looks so good up there. So comfortable and real.

And his outfit's different now. The denim vest is gone, and he's wearing a cut off tank top. The tank top; the one he wore that night, loose around the arms to expose his pretty, painted ribs. Steve looks up at him, transfixed. Like staring straight at the sun.

“How’s everybody doing?”

The group at the stage all whoop and cheer, and Eddie laughs delightedly; thanks them all for coming, thanks the tech and service crews. He introduces the band next, pointing each member out by name and letting them do a little solo, and then he swings his guitar over his shoulder and says, “We got one last song for you tonight!”

More cheering from the crowd. Eddie plants his feet and scans the room, a small, secret smile lighting up his gorgeous face when his eyes land on Steve. Just for a second before he looks away, but that smile stays firm, and Steve knows the next words are meant for him.

“Now, this isn’t our usual style, but uh… a little birdie told me someone here might need to hear this.”

Eddie strums his guitar. The opening notes of Go Your Own Way ring out, sped up and made grittier to fit the band's sound. Steve’s heart is in his throat.

“Good morning, sweetheart," Eddie beams as his bandmates join in, "this one’s for you.”

—

part 36

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)