#some form of hope and reality hit it over the head with a two by four!!!!

[thebirdandhersong]

:'))))))

[solxamber]

Making Up After an Argument with: Overblot Gang + Rollo

part 2 with vice housewardens + kalim

on this day, i offer you some hurt/comfort

It’s been two days. Two long, awkward, and uncomfortable days of silent treatment between you and him. The argument had been petty—something so small that you can’t even remember what sparked it. But pride, stubbornness, and a little bit of frustration had taken over, and now, here you are, locked in a stalemate.

You’ve been tiptoeing around each other, avoiding eye contact, pretending not to care. But in reality, the silence feels like it’s stretching forever, and you hate it. You hate the feeling of distance between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

You miss him. Even with him just a walk away, it feels like miles.

The realization hits you hard as you sit there, staring at your phone, hoping for a sign—any sign—that he’s willing to break first. But of course, nothing comes. He’s just as stubborn as you are. Maybe even more.

You let out a long, dramatic sigh, slumping back in your seat. Ugh, fine. I’ll be the one to give in this time. It’s not the first time you’ve done it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. But deep down, you know you love him too much to let this go on. And you know he loves you too, even if neither of you will say it right now.

Riddle Rosehearts

You sigh dramatically, dragging your feet as you head towards Riddle’s dorm. The argument was dumb—you know that now. And if anyone could hold onto stubbornness like a grudge, it was Riddle Rosehearts. You, on the other hand, are way too tired of the silence, so it’s time for drastic measures.

As you approach his door, you pause, a silly idea forming in your mind. What’s the best way to apologize to someone like Riddle? With a flourish, of course. You rummage through your bag, pull out a red rose you happened to pick up earlier—totally coincidental, you promise yourself—and start plotting.

A few minutes later, you knock on his door, taking a deep breath. You hear footsteps, and then the door creaks open, revealing Riddle’s ever-serious face. His eyes flick up to you, then down to the rose in your hand, then back up again. He doesn’t say anything, though the faintest hint of curiosity flashes in his eyes.

Time to execute the plan.

You drop to one knee in an exaggerated, overly dramatic fashion, holding the rose high above your head like you’re a knight pledging allegiance to his queen. “My dearest Riddle, Queen of the Rose Garden, I come bearing an apology for my grievous offense. I’ve come to beg for your forgiveness,” you say, loud enough for the whole dorm to hear.

Riddle's eyes go wide, and for a moment, his face goes completely red—not from anger, but from pure, unfiltered embarrassment. He glances around, hoping no one else is witnessing this absolute spectacle you’re making.

"Please," you continue, voice wobbling as if you're on the verge of tears, "Grant me one more chance to bask in your presence! Your mercy, oh merciful ruler!" You bow dramatically, forehead almost touching the ground.

He sputters, clearly flustered beyond belief. "W-What are you doing? Get up! That's completely unnecessary—!"

"No!" You hold up the rose like a peace offering. "Not until you talk to me again! I will stay here on my knees if I must! Forever! Or until I get a cramp, whichever comes first!"

He’s torn between laughing at the ridiculousness of it and dying from second-hand embarrassment. “This is ridiculous! I—” He looks at the rose, then at you, eyes softening just a bit. “Fine, fine, just… stand up already.”

You spring to your feet, grinning triumphantly. “So, we’re good?”

Riddle sighs, rubbing his temples. "You're impossible."

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him playfully.

“Yes. But stop being so dramatic. The whole dorm probably heard you…”

You don’t care. You throw your arms around him in a spontaneous hug, and for a second, Riddle freezes, stunned by the unexpected affection. Then, hesitantly, he returns the hug. He’s still embarrassed, but there’s a softness to his grip, a sign that he missed this closeness just as much as you did.

He pulls you into his room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, the embarrassment on his face fades, replaced with a quiet vulnerability. He avoids your eyes, walking over to his desk, his voice quieter now. “I… I was afraid,” he admits. “That maybe you were getting tired of me. I know I’m difficult sometimes, and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” you interrupt, stepping closer. “Where is this coming from?”

He sits down, staring at the floor. “You could be with someone more… easygoing. Less rigid. Someone who doesn’t argue over every little thing.”

You blink, surprised. “Riddle, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you. I chose you, remember?”

He looks up at you, eyes filled with uncertainty, and you notice his hands trembling just slightly. “But what if I drive you away? What if one day you just… stop trying?”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. Before you can think, you step forward, kneeling in front of him. Without hesitation, you cup his face in your hands, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek. “That’s not going to happen. Ever.”

His eyes glisten slightly, the tension of the past few days unraveling as he leans into your touch. “But—”

“No buts,” you insist softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you. Stubbornness, rules, and all. And honestly, I think the petty arguments are kinda fun. It keeps things… interesting.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you feel a few tears slip down his cheeks. “You don’t know how hard it is for me,” he whispers. “To balance everything, to try and be perfect all the time… I don’t want to lose you because of my shortcomings.”

You smile gently, brushing away the tears with your thumb as you lean in and kiss his cheek softly. “You’re not going to lose me. You don’t have to be perfect, Riddle. I didn’t fall in love with perfection, I fell in love with you.”

He stares at you for a moment, tears still threatening to spill over, but his grip on your hand tightens as if he’s holding on to your words. “I… I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the world,” you whisper, pulling him into a tight hug, cradling his head against your shoulder as he allows himself to cry softly into your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, gently whispering reassurances as he finally lets go of the weight he’s been carrying.

“I missed you,” he mumbles between sniffles, his voice fragile in a way you’ve rarely heard before.

“I missed you too,” you say, kissing the top of his head. “Let’s never do this silent treatment thing again, okay?”

He nods, still clinging to you, and you feel his lips press a soft kiss against your shoulder, a wordless promise.

Leona Kingscholar

It’s been two long days of silence. And if you know one thing about Leona Kingscholar, it’s that his stubbornness rivals your own. You’ve been circling around each other, neither one of you willing to be the first to admit defeat. But the silence is eating away at you, and, well… you miss him.

So, you hatch a plan. A very dramatic, ridiculous, and completely unnecessary plan.

Armed with a large bouquet of sunflowers—because roses are too obvious—you march into Savanaclaw with all the confidence of someone who is absolutely not going to be embarrassed by this. Nope. You pass by several confused students on your way to Leona’s room, each one giving you strange looks as you carry the huge bouquet.

You stop in front of his door, take a deep breath, and knock. No answer. You knock again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Sighing, you decide to just barge in—because what’s a grand gesture without a bit of dramatic flair? Pushing open the door, you find Leona lounging on his bed, arms behind his head, eyes closed.

Perfect.

You march up to him and stand by his bed, holding the bouquet in front of you like a shield. “Leona Kingscholar, hear me out!” you declare, in a tone that’s probably more suited for a court jester than someone in an actual relationship.

One of his ears twitches, and his eyes crack open, glancing at you. You stand tall and proud, despite how ridiculous you feel, presenting the sunflowers like they’re some rare treasure. “I come bearing these humble sunflowers as an offering to ask for your forgiveness, O Great King of Beasts.”

He snorts. Actually snorts. “What are you on about, herbivore?”

You drop to one knee dramatically, holding the flowers up to him as if you’re a knight swearing fealty to his king. “Please, Leona! Forgive my transgressions! I was wrong to argue with you, and I cannot bear another moment without your esteemed company!”

Leona raises an eyebrow, staring at you with what can only be described as amusement. “You’re really going all out, huh?”

“I am but a humble servant, groveling for your mercy!” you continue, refusing to break character. “Please, take these sunflowers as a token of my undying affection and devotion!”

By now, Leona is fully awake, sitting up and resting his chin in his hand, clearly trying to hold back laughter. “Sunflowers, huh? How thoughtful of you.”

“Of course!” You stand up dramatically, thrusting the bouquet toward him. “They represent my radiant affection for you!”

Leona finally lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But do you forgive me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

He rolls his eyes, but the grin on his face betrays his amusement. “Yeah, yeah, you’re forgiven. Just stop with the theatrics, would ya?”

You grin, knowing you’ve won him over. But there’s something still lingering in the air, some tension that hasn’t quite disappeared yet. Leona might be laughing, but you can tell he’s still a bit on edge, still a little distant.

Setting the sunflowers aside, you walk over to the bed and sit next to him. “Leona, I know it was a dumb fight, but… you know you’re the only one for me, right?”

He glances at you, his smile fading slightly as he considers your words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, scooting closer. “I mean it. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he’s quiet, and you can see the tension in his shoulders start to ease. Then, without a word, he shifts, pulling you down onto the bed with him, his body practically draping over yours like a big, heavy, warm blanket. His arms wrap around you, his tail curling possessively around your leg, anchoring you to him.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, letting out a low, contented sigh. “You better not,” he mumbles against your skin. “I don’t feel like dealing with anyone else’s nonsense.”

You smile softly, running your fingers through his hair, scratching gently behind his ears. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Leona presses closer, his body relaxing fully against yours as if he’s been waiting for this. His weight is comforting, and you can feel the way he melts into your embrace, his tail tightening just slightly around you as if to say, mine.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him as close as you can, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “You okay now?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “Just don’t pull that silent treatment crap again. Hate it.”

You chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Deal.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but the way he snuggles even closer to you tells you that all is forgiven. You hold him tight, and in that moment, with him lying on top of you like a big, lazy cat, everything feels right again.

Azul Ashengrotto

It’s been two long, dreadful days of silence between you and Azul. And for someone like him—someone who thrives on words, on negotiation, on control—it’s been absolutely agonizing. But his pride won’t let him be the first to crack. He’s stubborn like that.

And you? Well, you’re not much better.

But enough is enough. The tension between you both is suffocating, and while you’re both great at the silent treatment, it’s clear this little game of emotional chicken has to end. You’ve had enough of this cold war, and after mulling over how to make amends, you come up with the most absurd, ridiculous plan that just might work.

You stand outside the Mostro Lounge, a grin on your face, feeling more than a little proud of yourself. In your arms is the biggest, gaudiest, most unnecessary floral arrangement imaginable—an explosion of blues and purples that makes it look like you’ve picked half of the Coral Sea to present to Azul. There are seashells, ribbons, and even a tiny fake octopus plush dangling from the bouquet, like the cherry on top of your ridiculous masterpiece.

You march into the Lounge, catching the attention of several customers, who stop to stare as you make your way toward Azul’s office. Ignoring their looks, you throw the door open dramatically, the bouquet nearly tipping you over with its weight.

“Azul Ashengrotto!” you declare, bursting into his office. He’s sitting at his desk, and the second he sees you and the monstrosity of flowers in your arms, his eyes go wide. “I have come to beg for your forgiveness!”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard by the sheer audacity of the display. “W-What…?”

You march up to him, practically dropping the bouquet on his desk with a flourish. “These flowers represent my sincere regret for my terrible behavior during our argument. As you can see, they are over-the-top and completely unnecessary, much like my stubbornness.”

Azul stares at the bouquet, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Y-You…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself, but there’s a telltale twitch at the corner of his lips that suggests he’s seconds away from laughing. “This is absurd.”

“I know,” you reply with a dramatic sigh, throwing a hand to your forehead like a tragic figure. “I have been plagued with guilt these past two days, Azul. I couldn’t bear another moment without your lovely company.”

He finally cracks, letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only for you, darling.” You lean over the desk, waggling your eyebrows, and he sighs, shaking his head. His laughter is light, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that pulls at your heartstrings. He may be smiling, but something’s still weighing on him.

With a small smile, Azul stands from his desk and walks around it until he’s standing right in front of you. He reaches for your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles before looking up at you with a much softer expression than before.

“I’ll admit… I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “But I—” He pauses, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if debating whether or not to say the next words. “Did you… only come back because you thought you had to? Or do you still… want me?”

His voice cracks, just a little, but it’s enough to make your heart break. You blink in surprise, your breath catching at the rawness in his question.

“Azul…” you say softly, stepping closer, cupping his face gently in your hands. His eyes dart to yours, filled with a mix of uncertainty and hope, and it almost shatters you. “Of course I want you. Always.”

He swallows hard, and you can see the tears welling up in his eyes, ones he’s desperately trying to hide. But you won’t let him. You pull him close, wrapping your arms around him tightly, holding him as if you could shield him from the insecurities swirling in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his temple. “I love you. I’ve always loved you since I met you, and I always will. No matter what.”

Azul clings to you, his arms wrapping around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder as his breath hitches. The tears come slowly, quietly, and you feel them soak into your shirt as he holds you like you’re his lifeline.

You kiss the top of his head, brushing your lips against his hair, then down to his tear-streaked cheeks. “I’m here,” you whisper between each kiss, your voice soft and soothing. “I’m right here. You’re not alone, Azul. You never were.”

He squeezes you tighter, as if afraid to let go, and you can feel the tension slowly leaving his body. You keep kissing away his tears, gentle and patient, letting him take all the time he needs. Eventually, his breathing steadies, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes red-rimmed but filled with so much affection it makes your heart swell.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs again, though there’s no bite to his words. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, his lips brushing yours in the lightest of touches.

“Ridiculous, but yours” you reply, grinning, and he huffs a quiet laugh.

“Yes… you are,” he whispers, and this time, when he kisses you, it’s slow and tender, his lips soft but firm against yours, filled with all the love and relief he’s been holding back. You kiss him back with just as much affection, your arms wrapping around him as you both lose yourselves in the moment.

When he finally pulls away, you rest your forehead against his once more, both of you breathing a little heavier but feeling lighter than you have in days.

“No more arguments, okay?” you murmur, smiling softly.

“No promises,” he teases, but there’s a warmth in his voice now, a comfort that reassures you everything will be just fine.

And as you hold him close, with his head resting against your shoulder, you know it too. Everything will be just fine.

Jamil Viper

After two long days of silence, the weight of the unresolved argument with Jamil has become unbearable. You’re done waiting for him to make the first move, especially knowing how he can be—cautious, calculating, always one step ahead but never one to make the first emotional leap. You miss him, and more importantly, you want to make things right, even if it means doing something absolutely ridiculous.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside his dorm, holding a tray of… pancakes. Not just any pancakes, though. These are heart shaped, perfectly arranged to spell out “I’M SORRY” in big, syrup-drenched letters. You’re not sure what possessed you to make pancakes an apology tool, but hey, everyone loves pancakes, right?

With a deep breath, you knock on his door. After a moment, Jamil opens it, his expression neutral, but the second he spots the tray, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What... is this?”

You grin sheepishly, lifting the tray up like a peace offering. “An apology. In pancake form.”

Jamil blinks at the sight, clearly trying to process this ridiculous gesture. “You… made pancakes to say sorry?”

“Yes. And they’re shaped like hearts. See? I even used syrup to write it out so there’s no confusion.” You point to the pancakes proudly. “You can’t stay mad at me after this, right?”

For a moment, Jamil just stares at the tray, his expression unreadable, before a slow, reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He lets out a quiet huff of laughter, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe, but I’m yours.”

He shakes his head, but there’s no denying the amusement in his eyes. “You could have just apologized with words, you know.”

“I could have,” you agree, “but where’s the fun in that?” You give him your best hopeful grin, offering him a plate. “Come on, at least eat one. They’re good! I even made them heart-shaped.”

Jamil sighs, taking the plate from you with a resigned smile. He grabs one of the heart-shaped pancakes and bites into it, giving you a side glance. “I suppose I can’t stay mad after this.”

You watch him closely, noticing the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. You know him well enough to see through his calm facade. Beneath it all, he’s still embarrassed—mostly about the argument, but also because he let his temper get the best of him. You can tell that’s what’s really bothering him, even now.

“You know,” you say softly, stepping closer, “it’s okay that we argued.”

Jamil looks at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don’t have to feel bad for losing your temper. You don’t always have to hold everything in around me. It’s okay to let it out, to be angry, to argue. We’re not always going to agree, and that’s fine.” You place your hand gently on his arm. “I’ll always come back and fix things, even if you feel like you can’t. That’s what we do, right?”

Jamil stares at you for a moment, his expression softening as your words sink in. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one that he rarely shows, and it breaks your heart just a little. Slowly, he sets the plate down and reaches for you, pulling you into his arms.

“You’re too forgiving,” he murmurs, resting his chin on top of your head.

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “I meant it. You don’t have to be perfect with me, Jamil. You can be yourself, temper and all.”

He lets out a quiet sigh, his grip tightening slightly around you. “You’ll regret saying that one day.”

“I doubt it,” you tease, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “But if I do, I’ll make more food.”

That earns you a small, genuine laugh, and before you can say anything else, Jamil leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips linger for a moment, and when he pulls back, his expression is softer than you’ve seen in days.

“You’re serious about that promise?” he asks quietly, his hand cupping your cheek. “That no matter what, you’ll always come back?”

You nod, holding his gaze. “Always. Even if we argue, even if things get tough, I’ll be right here. I’ll come back and fix it, even if you can’t.”

Jamil’s eyes flicker with emotion, and before you know it, he’s kissing you—soft and slow at first, but there’s a desperation behind it, a need for reassurance. You kiss him back with the same intensity, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer, trying to pour every bit of love and understanding into the kiss.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless, but the tension that had been there for the past two days is gone. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he exhales slowly.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” he whispers, and you can hear the relief in his voice. “Just don’t make me wait this long next time.”

You smile, reaching up to brush your lips against his again. “Deal. But only if you agree to eat more pancakes.”

He chuckles, pulling you back into his arms. “Fine. But only because they’re heart-shaped.”

And just like that, everything feels right again.

Vil Schoenheit

After two days of tense silence between you and Vil, you know you need to go all out if you’re going to get him to forgive you. Apologies are one thing, but Vil is someone who values effort, refinement, and, of course, aesthetic appeal. You can’t just go in with flowers—no, you need to apologize in a way that matches his standards.

So naturally, you end up outside his dorm with a full-on spa set-up. A luxury at-home facial kit, to be precise, complete with rare, imported skincare masks and the finest essential oils. You may or may not have spent more on this than you’ve ever spent on yourself before, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

When Vil opens the door, his eyes immediately narrow at the sight of you holding a basket filled with beautifully arranged skincare products. “What… is this?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You smile, trying to play it cool. “An apology. In skincare form.” You thrust the basket toward him. “I thought maybe you’d like to, uh, pamper yourself and—look! I even got the organic lavender serum you were talking about last month!”

Vil stares at the basket, then at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re bribing me with skincare?”

“Technically, I’m apologizing with skincare,” you correct, flashing a sheepish grin. “I know I messed up, and I know you like to unwind with your beauty routine, so I thought this might help smooth things over. Literally and figuratively.”

For a long moment, he just stands there, gazing at you with an unreadable expression. You’re starting to think you might’ve miscalculated when, suddenly, a soft chuckle escapes him. “You are… absolutely ridiculous.”

You blink. “So… that’s a yes on the skincare?”

Vil shakes his head, but the faintest smile is playing on his lips. “You’re lucky you’re my sweet potato.”

Relief floods through you at his words. “I’ll take that as forgiveness, then.”

He sighs, taking the basket from you and setting it on the table. “Yes, I forgive you.” But even as he says it, there’s a hesitation in his eyes, a flicker of something deeper that makes you pause.

You step closer, gently reaching for his hand. “Are you still mad?”

Vil glances away for a moment, and you can see the tension in his posture. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more vulnerable than usual. “No, I’m not mad. But… I was afraid. So, so afraid that I’d pushed you away too. That I’d lost the one person who could tolerate me.”

Your heart clenches at his words. You can feel the weight of all the pressure he’s put on himself, the fear of losing someone important. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight embrace, wrapping your arms around him as if you could shield him from that fear. “Vil, listen to me. I’m not here because I tolerate you. I’m here because I love you.”

He stiffens in your arms for a moment, but slowly, he relaxes, his hands coming to rest on your back. “You say that now, but—”

You cut him off, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “No, I mean it. Loving someone isn’t about tolerating them. It’s about being with them because you can’t imagine being anywhere else.” You brush a strand of hair from his face, your thumb gently tracing his cheek. “I’m here because you’re everything to me, Vil. Even if you’re mean sometimes. Even if we argue. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes soften at your words, and for a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your face. Then, without a word, he leans in and presses a soft, tender kiss to your lips, his hands gently cradling your face. The kiss is slow, almost tentative, as if he’s still afraid you’ll disappear.

When he finally pulls away, you can see the unshed tears in his eyes, though he quickly blinks them away. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You do,” you whisper back, kissing him again, softer this time, lingering against his lips. “And I’m staying. Forever, even if you’re a diva sometimes.”

Vil lets out a soft, breathy laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Forever?” he repeats, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Forever,” you promise, pulling him closer until his arms wrap around you fully. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding him tight, and for the first time in two days, everything feels right again.

And as he hugs you back, his grip a little tighter than before, you know he believes you.

Idia Shroud

You stand outside of Idia’s room, holding a stack of video game cases in one hand and a ridiculously oversized plush of his favorite game character in the other. This might be the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, but it’s not like you could just waltz in and hand him a flower. Idia isn’t exactly the flowers-and-chocolates type. No, he needs something bigger. Geekier. Something so outrageous that it’ll leave him flustered beyond belief—something that only you would dare to pull off.

So here you are, wearing a custom-made cosplay of the main character from his favorite RPG. And if this doesn’t get him to forgive you, you don’t know what will.

You knock on his door, bracing yourself for what’s about to come next. At first, there’s no response, so you knock again, louder this time. After a few seconds, you hear shuffling inside and the telltale sound of something crashing to the floor—classic Idia. Finally, the door creaks open just enough for you to see a pair of glowing eyes peeking through the gap.

“What… are you wearing?” His voice is barely audible, and you can already tell he’s regretting opening the door.

With a dramatic flourish, you throw your arms wide and hold out the plush. “Oh, mighty Idia, Lord of the Underworld and Master of All Games, I come bearing offerings to beg for your forgiveness!” You strike a pose, holding the plush in front of you like it’s some kind of magical artifact.

Idia’s eyes go wide, and you swear his hair flares up a notch, turning into a bright pink. He blinks, clearly stunned, before his hand shoots out to yank you inside his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

“W-What are you doing?!” His voice cracks as he looks at you, then the plush, then the video games. His hair is now a brilliant shade of neon pink, a sign that he’s absolutely mortified. “Are you trying to kill me from embarrassment?!”

You can’t help but grin at how flustered he is. “Hey, I had to go big! You were ignoring me for two whole days!”

“I wasn’t ignoring you!” He fidgets, avoiding eye contact as his hair flickers pink. “I just… thought maybe you were tired of me or something…”

Your grin fades, replaced with surprise. “Tired of you? What are you talking about?”

Idia sinks into his gaming chair, nervously picking at the hem of his hoodie. “I just figured… you know, you’d realize you could do better. I mean, c’mon, I’m not exactly ‘catch of the year’ material. You’re always out there, living in the real world, and I’m… well, here. Playing games and… avoiding people.”

You take a deep breath, moving closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “Idia,” you say firmly, “if you seriously think I’d ever get tired of you, you’re out of your mind.”

He glances up at you, clearly unconvinced, so you kneel down, placing the plush in his lap before grabbing his hands. “You mean the world to me. I’d literally fight God in a 1v1 death match if it meant keeping you.”

His eyes go wide again, his hair flaring even brighter. “Y-You’d what?”

“I mean it,” you continue, squeezing his hands. “I love you, okay? Whether we’re sitting in here gaming or you’re talking to me about your latest game binge, or even when you’re convinced that you’re somehow not enough. You are enough, Idia. You’re more than enough.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, processing your words. Then, slowly, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you in the most awkward, yet endearing hug imaginable. His face is buried in your shoulder, and you can feel the heat radiating from his hair as it flares even pinker. “You’re… too good for me,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his voice small.

You chuckle softly, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability in them. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” You lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek, watching as his hair flickers with warmth. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Idia blinks a few times before he wraps his arms around you again, pulling you closer this time. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “But I guess… I forgive you. Not that I was really mad in the first place.”

You laugh, nuzzling into his neck. “Good. ‘Cause I missed you.”

His grip tightens around you, and for a moment, you both stay like that—wrapped up in each other, the tension of the past few days melting away. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes flicking toward his gaming setup. “So, uh… you wanna play something?”

You grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The two of you settle onto the floor, your back leaning against his chest as he hands you a controller. He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, his hair still glowing a soft pink at the ends as the game starts up.

As you start playing, he presses a quick kiss to your temple. “Thanks. For, y’know… everything.”

You smile, leaning back into his warmth. “Anytime, Idia. Anytime.”

Malleus Draconia

The wind howls as you trudge across the campus, dragging a massive stone gargoyle behind you. It weighs approximately as much as a baby elephant, and if anyone else saw you right now, they’d think you’d completely lost it. But you know exactly what you’re doing. You know the storm swirling above Night Raven College is because of him, and if there’s one thing Malleus Draconia loves more than you (or so you like to tease), it’s a well-crafted gargoyle.

So here you are, yanking the poor stone creature across the wet grass like you’re on some kind of mission. Your arms ache, your back is screaming, and you’re about to regret this grand gesture entirely—until you finally see the towering spires of Diasomnia in the distance. Almost there.

You pause for a second to catch your breath, leaning on the gargoyle like it’s an old friend. “You’d better work,” you mutter to it, “because if I have to drag you all the way back, I swear—”

A gust of wind nearly knocks you over, reminding you why you’re out here in the first place. You shake off the rain, grit your teeth, and resume your march toward Diasomnia’s courtyard.

Once you arrive, you park the gargoyle right underneath Malleus’s window. Perfect placement. You could be a medieval decorator at this point.

You pick up a few rocks from the ground, size them up in your hand, and start tossing them at his window, each one making a soft thunk against the glass. After the third throw, the window creaks open, and Malleus leans out, looking down with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. His eyes land on the gargoyle first, then on you, soaked to the bone and holding a rock like you’re about to reenact some ancient ritual.

“Huh?” is all he says, blinking at the sight before him.

“Malleus!” you shout dramatically, “Come down! I brought you a peace offering!”

He stares at the gargoyle, then at you, before disappearing from the window in a blur. Within seconds, he’s outside, standing in front of you, his expression unreadable but his eyes glowing faintly with that magical storm swirling around them. The weather above you rumbles ominously, thunder echoing across the sky.

“Malleus, I—”

Before you can even finish, he pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You freeze for a second, surprised, then feel his body trembling slightly against yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and filled with regret. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. The storm… I didn’t know it would affect you too.”

You realize then that his hands are shaking, gripping onto you like you’re his lifeline. Your heart softens, and you return the hug, pressing your face into his neck. “No, I’m sorry,” you mumble into his skin. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I should’ve come sooner… with or without the gargoyle.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you feel the tension begin to fade from his body. Slowly, the storm above you starts to calm—the wind softens, the rain turns into a light drizzle, and the ominous clouds roll back as if they were never there to begin with.

You pull back just enough to look at him, his glowing eyes now gentle as they meet yours. “So, uh… do you like the gargoyle?” you ask, grinning a little.

Malleus chuckles softly, his eyes flicking to the stone statue behind you. “It’s… impressive. Though you didn’t have to go through such lengths.”

You shrug. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

He smiles, a genuine, relieved smile, and before you can say anything else, he tugs you back toward the castle. “Come inside,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “You’re soaked, and you brought a guest. We should both dry off.”

The two of you (and your new gargoyle friend) make your way to his room, and as soon as the door closes behind you, Malleus pulls you onto his bed, wrapping himself around you like a possessive dragon hoarding his most precious treasure. His arms curl around your waist, and his body presses snugly against yours as he buries his face in your neck.

You stroke his hair gently, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the last bit of chill from the storm. “You know I love you, right?” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“I know,” he replies quietly, his grip on you tightening slightly. “I just… sometimes, I worry.”

You pull back enough to kiss him properly, your lips brushing against his softly, reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry,” you murmur between kisses. “You mean everything to me. And if I have to drag a hundred gargoyles across campus to prove it, I will.”

Malleus chuckles against your lips, a low, warm sound that rumbles through his chest. “Please don’t. One is more than enough.”

You laugh softly, nuzzling into his neck as you both settle into a comfortable silence, the storm outside completely gone now, leaving only peace and quiet—and a very satisfied, if slightly confused, gargoyle standing guard outside.

Rollo Flamme

The argument with Rollo had left a strange tension in the air, but knowing him, it was probably accompanied by a quiet storm of overthinking and guilt on his end. Rollo Flamme wasn’t one to voice his frustrations loudly, but his brooding could be as heavy as the weight of the world.

You figure it’s time to fix this, and, because you can’t just do anything the normal way, you decide on something special—something that’d be just the right mix of thoughtful and ridiculous to get his attention.

That’s why you find yourself in the Bell Tower, with a bundle of parchment paper in your arms. Not just any parchment, though—carefully selected handwritten notes of every philosophical thought, poetry piece, and historical fact you know Rollo’s obsessed with. You’ve even bound it like a book, with a dramatic title on the front: “An Ode to Perfection: Why Rollo is Always Right (Sometimes)”. It’s sarcastic enough to make him smile, but sincere enough to show you care.

Climbing the stairs of the bell tower is no small feat, but you’re determined. Once at the top, you glance out at the courtyard, where you know he’ll be, and with a deep breath, you shout, “ROLLO FLAMME, I HAVE CLIMBED THE HEIGHTS TO OFFER YOU THIS SYMBOL OF MY UNDYING RESPECT AND HUMILITY!”

Your voice echoes dramatically through the courtyard, and sure enough, you see Rollo down below, startled out of his brooding. He looks up, eyes widening at the sight of you, but it’s hard to tell if he’s more confused or horrified by the spectacle.

“I OFFER THIS—” you hold the makeshift book high, “—AS A PEACE TREATY BETWEEN US, THAT WE MAY NEVER AGAIN BE SEPARATED BY MERE MORTAL PETTINESS!”

Rollo stares for a long moment, before he suddenly breaks into a full-on sprint toward the tower. He’s halfway up the stairs before you know it, and when he reaches the top, his face is a mix of red embarrassment and panic.

“What are you doing?” he half-hisses, half-pleads, his cheeks flushed from both the running and the mortification of what you’ve just done in full view of the school. His voice lowers as he grabs your arm and tries to pull you away from the edge. “Are you insane? You could’ve fallen, and—”

“I wasn’t going to fall!” you grin, holding out the “book” triumphantly. “I came to apologize.”

He stares at the bundle of papers in your hand, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What… is this?”

“An apology. Written in beautiful calligraphy and filled with all the reasons why you’re wonderful, overthinking, but still somehow right most of the time.” You wiggle the book in front of his face. “It’s all for you.”

Rollo’s face, already red from exertion, turns an even deeper shade of crimson. His lips part, but no words come out for a second as he glares at the book, then at you. “You… climbed the bell tower. Yelled in front of everyone. And wrote a whole book to—”

“Get you to forgive me, yeah,” you finish for him, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I figured you’d appreciate the effort, Mr. Perfectionist.”

He looks at the book again, his hands shaky as he takes it from you, carefully cradling it as if it’s some kind of sacred artifact. His voice drops to a whisper. “You… didn’t have to go this far. I was never angry at you.”

You blink, surprised by his words. “What do you mean?”

Rollo glances down, his fingers curling tighter around the book. “I thought… maybe you’d realize you didn’t need someone like me. That you’d see how much of a burden I am.”

Your heart clenches at his words. Without hesitation, you step closer, reaching out to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Rollo Flamme, if you think for a second that I’d leave you, you’re wrong. I’d get into a fistfight with God for you, and win.”

His eyes widen, and a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. “That’s… quite dramatic.”

“You inspire drama,” you reply with a grin, but then your tone softens, and you pull him into a tight hug. “You mean the world to me, Rollo. I don’t care about your overthinking, your brooding, or your perfectionism. I care about you.”

He tenses for a moment in your embrace, but then slowly, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around you in return. His hands still tremble slightly, but he buries his face in your shoulder, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid to let go. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shake your head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his temple. “You deserve all of it. And more.”

For a moment, he just holds onto you, breathing deeply as if trying to calm his racing thoughts. Then, after a long silence, he pulls back slightly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looks at you. “I… apologize as well. For doubting… for everything.”

You smile, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his face. “We’re both forgiven then.”

He nods, his face still flushed with embarrassment but now softened with relief. Without another word, he pulls you back into his room, where you spend the rest of the afternoon curled up together—Rollo resting his head against your shoulder, still clutching the book you made him, while you hold him close, reassuring him with soft kisses and whispered words of love.

The tower bells toll softly in the background, but for the two of you, there’s nothing but the warmth of each other’s presence.

Masterlist

[dollfacefantasy]

End of the Night

pairing: mafia!leon kennedy x reader

summary: leon comes home late from a job. he finds comfort in his pregnant wife who's fast asleep.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, somnophilia, pregnancy, mentions of blood and violence and typical crime stuff

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey besties. here you go. hope everyone enjoys. if you're interested, check out my ko-fi. i appreciate the support you all give me oh so much. mwah <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld

Another late night. The car rumbles as it pulls into the driveway. He shuts it off and sits there for a moment, taking in the quiet of the neighborhood street. Moonlight illuminates his bruised knuckles and bloody sleeves. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, the skin beneath the dried crimson liquid turns white. A deep sigh seeps out of his lungs. 

He runs a hand through his dusty brown hair and looks in the rear view mirror, seeing his tired eyes looking back at him. He’d been meaning to get it cut, but he’d been busy as of late.

“It’s getting shaggy,” you’d tease him while scratching his scalp with your manicured nails. Then you’d lean in close and give him a big kiss on the cheek. “It looks good.”

You. His beautiful, darling wife. The greatest pride of his life. Only a few rooms apart, tucked away safe inside.

He lets out another sigh as he thinks of you, but this time it’s a breath of longing rather than exhaustion. You were why he was out here, cooling off. He’d promised himself since the day you got married those years ago, he wouldn’t let this affect you. Wouldn’t even let you get close to this side of him.

All the windows of the house are dark. He knows you’re asleep, curled up under one of the many plush blankets he’d gotten you. Face pressed into the silk pillowcase, your soft breaths drifting through the bedroom.

The mental picture brings a smile to his face instinctively. It quickly fades though as he looks down and crashes back to reality. Blood covered his suit, soaked into the fabric. He knew he’d have to just throw it away. He wouldn’t even bother asking you to wash this one.

He gets out of the car, careful to shut the door quietly. Walking up the stone path to your house, past the pristine lawn, he jams his key into the front door. The air in the house is so much warmer than the chill outside. It hits him in a rush, making his face feel numb. He slips his shoes off by the door, something you always asked him to do after one night when he had tracked remnants of some unfortunate guy all over the bedroom carpet.

Sometimes coming into the house almost made him unsettled. It was as if he still couldn’t believe it was his. That was how he felt about you too. Sure, he’d always expected to get married, but he never thought it’d be like this. Never thought he’d be happy.

He walks across the entryway and heads up the spiraling staircase, passing pictures of the two of you hung on the walls. When he reaches the bedroom, he sees exactly what he suspected. Even though he expected it, the sight of you fast asleep didn’t melt his heart any less. It filled his chest with warmth and made his head feel loopy with how much he adored you. The worst thing he could imagine was coming home and finding that bed empty. Whether you left or someone took you, he didn’t want to ever think about either. That was why he was always so careful. So that would never happen.

He pads across the room to your side of the bed and looks at your sleeping form with love in its most raw state. The kind that made him ache. He strokes your head and smooths your hair out. A light kiss lands on your forehead before he leans down and kisses your belly, swollen with his child.

More than anything on this earth, he wants to crawl into bed with you and do all that lovey dovey shit until the sun comes up. But he knew he needed to shower, not wanting to even imagine the disgust on your face if you woke up to his clothing, blotted red with blood, pressed to your skin.

He goes into the bathroom, making sure to be as close to silence as possible. He cringes when he turns the shower on, and just hopes the noise of the rushing water isn’t enough to wake you.

The next step in this little routine is taking out one of the disposable bags you now stored under the sink for nights like this. He peels off his suit and stuffs it into the plastic before dropping it in the trash. He’d take it out tomorrow.

He gives his body a once over in the mirror, looking at the stained and scarred skin before stepping into the shower. The hot water feels damn near euphoric on the taut muscles in his back. He lets out a muted groan. It sprays down on him and dampens his hair, the locks transforming from their lightened shade to a deeper brown. 

The white tile surrounding the drain turns red as the marks from work get washed away. He uses the little scrubby thing you bought him, making sure all of it is really gone. Washing his hair too, he uses some of your shampoo tonight just for your scent.

He can feel the pressure dissolving in his shoulders and the tight coils in his back beginning to unwind. He no longer feels like a live wire. The hot tension in his neck melts and rolls down his back, pooling in his belly. The heat of stress evolves into the warmth of desire.

When he’s finally done in the shower, he gets out and wraps a towel around his waist. Water droplets roll down his chest as he dries his hair. He then takes care of his other getting-ready-for-bed tasks and comes into the bedroom. He pulls on some flannel pajama pants and turns to his bed, ready to finally lay with his stunning wife and hold you till he passes out.

But when he looks over at you, that warmth that collected within him starts to bubble up into a boil. You had shifted positions, kicked the covers off so that you were much more exposed. It wasn’t unusual for you. The fact that it was freezing out now didn’t stop your body from heating up like a furnace while you slept. It started when you first fell pregnant, and while it caused you great discomfort, Leon secretly enjoyed it, infatuated with the warm, soft feeling of you against him in the night.

You were wearing a baby pink nighty he’d bought for you. It barely held your breasts which had just started to fill out more a few weeks ago. The lower part of the dress bunched up around your waist just below your bump, letting him see the matching panties you had on. He nearly drools as he imagines your lush thighs around his head, locking his face against that fabric.

God, and the final straw, your sweet, precious face. So clueless, not the slightest idea that your husband was a few feet away, leering at you. Slightly parted lips, twitching lashes, those cute round cheeks. It was too much. He had to do something even if it risked disturbing your slumber.

He had already drifted to the foot of the king-sized bed in his lustful stupor. Kneeling on the mattress, he leans forward and crawls to his target. One hand scoops up one of your legs, placing it on his shoulder. The other does the same to your second leg. It was just as he’d imagined, that familiar engulfing heat against his cheeks, around his neck.

Flat on his stomach, he brings his head in. His thumbs hook on your nightgown to slide it up a little more, resting it on the peak of your bump. His lips meet your clothed pussy in a gentle kiss. He then takes a deep breath, inhaling his favorite smell.

He trails some more kisses up the fabric to the level of your clit. The cloth gathers wet splotches from his saliva. Before removing the garment, he nuzzles your center, dragging his nose upwards against the silk.

Everything about you was soft, tender. From your voice as you spoke to the way you looked at him with love pooling in your eyes. His refuge from everything else, the blood, the betrayal, the guilt.

He loops his finger under the strip of fabric that conceals your cunt from him. After tugging them down, his eyes train on your folds. He locks his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer, smothering himself with you. Closing his eyes, he gets to work.

He delves his tongue between the velvety skin and licks stripes upward. His tongue draws skillful patterns on you and swirls around your clit before taking the sensitive bud between his lips to suck on it.

And there it is. You squirm ever so slightly. Your hips shift, but he keeps them pinned down in place. A small grunt leaves you and a smirk rises to his lips. So sweet, his innocent girl, never the wiser. 

In waking life, he wished he could keep you so blissfully unaware. Obviously, you weren’t privy to how deep the darkness of his work went. You had a basic idea though, and that was too much for his taste. You didn’t deserve to know any of that stuff even existed. He wanted to shield you from all of it. Just let you live like a princess in a castle without wondering how he could afford to give you that castle in the first place.

He shoos his concerns away by burying himself further in your cunt. He flicks his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves in rapid succession, applying pressure with his gentle sucking. A sense of satisfaction comes over him as he feels your slick beginning to coat his chin. He increases his efforts and flattens his tongue on your clit before going back down and working it into your hole.

He laps every drop of you he can, groaning at the taste. His arms squeeze tighter around your thighs, and he takes a deeper breath of that heady scent. He’s so laser focused on your pussy, he doesn’t fully register the moans beginning to spill from your lips.

Finally, he perks up when he hears possibly his favorite sound in the entire world.

“Leon?” you whimper, your voice soft and shaky with arousal.

He groans again, opening his mouth now to make out with your cunt. His tongue massages you and works inside you again.

“S’ok, baby, everything’s ok. Keep having those pretty dreams,” he mumbles into the junction of your thighs.

He doubts you could even hear that at the volume he spoke it, but he’s back to work anyways. Your squirming is getting more frequent as the coils of pleasure tighten within you. Your legs shift around in a futile attempt to alleviate the disruption to your rest.

More wetness collects between your legs, mixing with his spit and making your folds slippery. It’s the best feeling ever to him, he just can’t get enough. That smooth, slick skin. Your warm, plush thighs. He’d do this all day if he could. Any stress he’d had from work was as dead as the guy who’s blood had ruined his suit.

With one particular stroke of his tongue, you rouse from sleep. Your legs tighten around his head with a few conscious whimpers. You lift your head and look down at the mop of hair working at the apex of your thighs. You lazily run your fingers through the locks.

“What are you doing?” you mumble, your voice a little whiny from the nonstop ministrations to your cunt. Your head falls back to the pillow with a soft gasp.

“I think it’s obvious what I’m doing, sweetheart,” he teases before continuing.

“Bad day?” you rasp.

“No. Now shhh. Let me make you feel good, honey,” he says simply.

While Leon loved talking to you, he couldn’t eat you out till you were trembling if he was using his mouth for anything else. He returns his full attention to your pussy, devoting all his energy to getting you to that peak.

Your moans are louder now, becoming higher pitched as sparks of ecstasy fly inside you. The sheets gather and twist around your body as you writhe on the mattress. Toes curling as moon light shines through the curtains in your bedroom, you suck in a hushed gasp as his fingers slide inside you with ease.

You’re so sensitive from your condition that it only takes a few gentle pumps and scissoring motions of his fingers to have you dangling from that pleasurable edge. Your hips try to buck, but again, his palms have you secure, right where he wants you.

“Fuck… Leon. I- I- babe, I’m gonna-” you whimper while your breathing becomes more labored.

“Come on, babydoll,” he nearly growls, “You can do it. Cum for me. All over my face.”

Strained cries rise in your throat, your hips rhythmically rolling into the pleasure he provides. Not one to ever resist him, it’s only moments later that you do as he says, the band of euphoria inside you snapping.

He works you through it, not stopping his tongue or fingers. Your moans are deep and loud. There was no reason to be concerned with volume so you let the sounds fill the bedroom and spill into the hall. Wet noises bloom from the bottom of the bed as your release coats Leon’s fingers.

Not wanting to waste anything, he laps up every drop of you that he can. His tongue makes broad strokes over your cunt, and even as you begin coming down, he doesn’t let up right away. You squeal and squirm as your high overflows. Your feet weakly kick at his shoulder to signal it’s too much.

“Leon… can’t take it… fuck,” you whine and claw at each side of the pillow behind your head.

Normally, he’d keep going. Mouth would be latched on to your pussy for the next hour at least. Swirling circles around that pretty clit until you were crying and had gone hoarse. But right now, you’re carrying his baby. Your days are hard enough, and the last thing he wants is to be the cause of any discomfort for you.

He forces himself off of you, panting as he disconnects and pushes himself up. Looking up at you, his eyes are blown out with love. You roll on to your side, stretching your sleepy limbs as you slip back into the state of relaxation you were in before he’d woken you. He watches you, adoring the way your mouth widens into a yawn as he crawls up the bed to slot himself behind you.

Curling up against your warm body, he lets out a hum of satisfaction. He places a few tender kisses on your neck and behind your ear. His fingers run through your hair and stroke it back from your face in soothing motions.

“My pretty little wife,” he whispers.

Now you hum in satisfaction. Your hand finds his which was on your belly, rubbing your bump. You gently squeeze it before lifting it to your lips and kissing each one of his bruised knuckles. It was something you’d done hundreds of times at this point in your relationship, but it was never any less special to him.

“How’re my girls tonight?” he murmurs and places more kisses on the side of your head.

“We’ve been good,” you answer softly, voice becoming sleepy again already, “Well, she has. She’s just like her dad. Been kicking ass inside my stomach all night.”

Your eyes are closed, but it’s as if you can see the grin on Leon’s face. “She can act like me all she wants as long as she’s as cute as her mother,” he breathes with a peck to your temple.

No matter how many times he’d say things like that to you, you could never fight the heat that rose to your cheeks and the smile that broke out on your face. You turn and connect his lips in one final kiss before you settle into the pillows to sleep again.

He just watches you, the best way for him to unwind at the end of the day. When he looks at you it’s easier to remember that while tomorrow’s gonna be another day in his life full of gunshots and corpses, it’s also gonna be another one he spends with you, spends waiting for that perfect baby in your belly.

[occamstfs]

Talismen IV: Deliverer

Alex does a few deliveries before meeting Nicky for lunch. His should be familiar route launches men into new lives as slobs, handymen, hairy tops, and twinks. All the while he struggles to understand the reality before him and his own changing form and his strange position in this new world.

Yowza that’s a long one, as stated it’s kind of a bunch of mini TF’s in a longer story though! In the order presented in the description :) Also I did end up including a gender change since it seemed there was some interest! Worry not, it's all very gay haha! The final poll will go up Sunday the 22nd and run for a week this time. Had quite a bit of fun writing this one, hope you all enjoy the penultimate chapter of Talismen! -Occam

Alex had just returned from another delivery to the sweet couple of bears next door when he received a text from his friend, Nicky. [Heyoo, when are you on lunch? Si’s meeting me for coffee in a bit right next to ur place if u wanna join~] Checking the time, Alex thinks he’ll probably have one more order before getting to clock off and tells Nicky as much. 

Already waiting alone in the cafe, the inadvertent magus’ eyes glimmer their unnatural red as he opts to cast a spell the old fashioned way and summon his friend by ordering some rangoons for himself. What better way to get what you want than to ask for it. 

Nicky smiles as he sees Alex reply [Should be good ! Zhao’ll probably have me do one more but I’ll be quick~] Getting in line the man’s fingers flex unknowingly as he whispers under his breath and winks to no one, “Yeah yeah, you’d better dude- Speed it up for me.” rather than typing this, he sends some in-joke emoji, totally unaware of the almost imperceptible red mist that falls from his mouth and shoots through the doors of the cafe towards the nearby delivery man.

It hits him just as he enters Wok’N’Talk, he shivers as it flows into him, lightning his dark brown enough to be black eyes for but a moment as the few hairs on his arm stand on end. He pauses as the bizarre staticky, pent-up sensation fills him, though not for long as he’s just as soon assailed by the owner calling him to get back to work, “小伙子! (Xiǎohuǒzǐ/Young Man!) Alex! The phone is blowing up! Can you do one more run before lunch?” 

“Just one?” Alex takes in the scene as he sees Zhao nervously gulp at the still printing orders, continuing to pile up. He well knew how the older man operates and figured implicitly offering to help more would butter him up enough to at the very least get the easiest jobs left on the table, “感谢上帝 (Gǎnxiè shàngdì/Thank god) for you Alex, there are two orders very very close- Do you think you can do them at once?” Alex nods and checks the addresses before being interrupted, “Ēn- ah! I forgot one just came in and they asked for you by name Alex-” He sheepishly looks at his young employee, “Would you mind?”

Checking it to find it’s clearly from Nicky he rolls his eyes and prepares to harangue his friend for piling more work on him. For now he simply acquiesces with a deep nod and Zhao comes over with the horde of takeout he’s to deliver. Alex tries to wave off his boss as the older man pats him on the back, “What would we do without you 小伙子- (Xiǎohuǒzǐ/Young Man-) No wonder they asked for you too eh?” Alex tilts his head as he sees a dreamy look appear in the owner’s eyes as he inhales the faintest wisp of red fog. At the same time he feels the man’s arm go limp on his back. Immediately concerned, he leans in to catch the man before he trips only to hear him whisper, “You always were one of my best boys.”

The delivery boy almost flinches back as his words are joined with loud pop music descending upon the restaurant, a stark shift from the traditional instrumentals Zhao prefers. Every inch of the place is suddenly painted in a red haze as the overhead lighting tints crimson. Alex looks up to see Zhao suddenly standing at the counter, “Mr. Zhao is- what is happening!?” He sees wrinkles disappear from his face as he removes his tie, “Why, dear Alex- What do you mean? Do you not long to be one of my 肌肉 (muscle)Jirou Heroes?” Alex backs away as he sees the man reach out and a leash appears in his hands. Smirking, the owner continues, “Tell him Xian.”

Alex didn’t see his closest friend on staff standing there before now, perhaps he wasn’t. Just as off put as the delivery man, the cook looks around, equally as uncomfortable and unsure of the surroundings as the delivery man by the door. That is, before Zhao twists his hand and the leash shoots to attach itself to Xian’s shirt collar, bending its fabric into a thick black bondage collar. The red lights flash as Alex’s friend grasps at the leash before his arms fall limp and his mouth falls agog. Fear fills the delivery man as he watches Xian swiftly contort as his leash is pulled taut.

Zhao just smirks as the once cook surges taller, sleeves immediately bursting to nothing as arms perfect for their new line of work bulge into existence. Pecs made to be oiled and abs made to be rubbed punch into existence. Each distinct muscle presses larger as Xian puts his arms behind his back, standing at attention until his boss, his owner, suggests otherwise. Alex covers his mouth in horror and grimaces as his stomach turns from seeing his friend’s body contort into a titan, into pure sex appeal. He tries to ignore the desire that fills him as he can’t help but stare at Xian. The leashed man briefly looks to Zhao for permission to speak, “Why are you scared Alex, just give in.”

His voice is stone cold and deep, raspy while betraying no emotion. Alex moves his hand to cover his eyes and bring it further away from a crotch that pulses with need. He clenches his eyes shut to hide the red light that seeps in through his fingertips as his chest tightens. Skipping breaths, he swears he feels his own chest beginning to grow just like Xian’s. “No, nono-” Alex clutches at his shirt and feels his chest burning, bulging into his hand. He struggles to tug at his shirt as his biceps press awkwardly against the new chest, making it clear that they too are thicker. Totally overwhelmed he stares at hands that contort larger, fingers stretch and palms widen. He stares at hands that are not his own and then he blinks. And all is normal.

“Yo Alex, you alright dude?” He feels the fan hanging above the door blow air against dried tears on his face. Xian calls out from the window into the kitchen, “Sure you don’t need an early lunch?” looking around he’s reminded of how short-staffed they are before continues, “I mean, no one else can do it but-” While unable to compartmentalize really, he can certainly perform normalcy enough to fool a man half a dozen yards away, “Yeah no problem dude! Just uh-” he sees a flash of Xian’s face sharpening to stone and harshness of his echoing bass, Alex’s voice cracks as he continues, “just spAced out- I’ll be back after lunch!” 

Forcing a smile, he grabs the delivery bags and runs as fast as he can manage into the streets. Stumbling out of eyesight he takes deep breaths of fresh air. What kind of episode was that? Knowing where the first delivery is, he starts the trip into the apartment building next door, home of all their number one customers, and a haven of normalcy that for good reason Alex is desperately craving. 

Already rationalizing whatever as his being overworked the young man doesn’t take a second to look behind as the cute neon sign Zhao has kept for years tinges red as it begins to shift from Wok’N’Talk to Jirou Heroes. Just as he saw, Xian stands behind the counter, bloating and flexing as the interior of the shop corrupts from an almost stereotypical Chinese food restaurant into this new, younger Zhao’s take on a muscle cafe. 

Alex is thankfully none the wiser as he keeps his nose on the grindstone to maintain at least the illusion of someone not mid-psychotic break, as anyone who sees prescient images of the future must to survive. Riding up past happy husband Rich Adam’s apartment he squirms to try and ignore the feeling that his clothes are tighter than usual. It’s in his head, he’s just stressed. And yet, were anyone there to see him they could not help but notice as the elevator continues to climb, his sleeves grow almost snug and pecs begin to give his torso profile it has never held before. Getting a little sweaty he puffs stuffy air into his shirt and swears it’s just nerves.

Frog in his throat he clears it as the elevator finally reaches the sixth floor. DING. The guys’ll offer him some water. He pauses to judge the heft of their order, weird that they’re all here today? Game day’s usually Friday, he thought. Well, he shrugs to himself- guess they’re allowed to hang out when they’re not role playing, or whatever. 

Alex sighs to himself as he makes it to their apartment door. Content to finally be back in sorts, he takes a moment to himself to ensure he’s indeed all there. Smiling wide just to feel the strain on his face, clenching his teeth to feel the pressure on his jaw. He takes a deep breath and ignores how his shirt tugs just a hair more against his stomach before knocking. 

Despite himself his raps on the door are quiet, he doesn’t notice as just like from Nicky, red mist falls from his mouth and slinks under the door. The humble host of this little gathering reaches for the door knob and just before turning it he freezes. Eyes flash red as just like Xian, just like Alex, he is struck with something inevitable. It then shoves past him as soon as it enters, tendrils launching out to the other occupants, to the meek miniature painter and a pair of friends having a not-quite-lovers spat about their campaign. 

But first and foremost it fills Ian who after a moment that lasts forever and never happened at all he returns to his mind, shivers and opens the door. “Heyyy Alex! Didn’t know you work Wednesdays too!” Alex sheepishly smiles, laughing and follows the man in. Despite meaning something worlds different when Zhao said it, the delivery boy was indeed popular with the Wok’s customers. Alex looks down and squints as he swears he can see, almost like string, a red trail into the apartment. The red brings images back to his mind of Xian growing out of his apron and fills him with nerves that he’s about to have another episode he tries to gulp and is reminded of his thirst. Forcing his mouth into a docile smile he doesn’t even begin to try to hide the fear in his eyes as he asks, “Hey Ian could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

The host doesn’t turn to look at Alex as he answers, his own eyes already glassy and distracted, “Yeah yeah, uhh- I’ll go grab it for ya. Think I hear a leak or somethin’ in there anyway,” Alex furrows his brow as he watches the man saunter away, his upper body dragged behind legs walking with a cocky gait that Ian would never deign to perform. Alex clutches at his chest and for the second time feeling pecs that have begun to amass once more he is filled with despair, though this time he feels he can get a jump on things. He can stop the changes. Looking back at the red chain ahead he can almost see footprints that lead toward the room where Wes, the painter, works.

He has seen what happens, he couldn’t save Xian then, but surely now. Surely he can stop anyone else from changing. Maybe you’re not supposed to go along with it, and maybe it’s already too late, but fuck man he can try and help. Propelled forward with purpose alien, Alex unknowingly stomps onward precisely where glowing red footprints lie. With each step forward his feet grow to fill them as his calves and thighs stretch larger with his all-consuming desire to get there faster. His shoes change to something bulkier, more fashionable as the soles of his feet grow wider and toes stretch longer, filling them before they simply burst larger to catch up every new step. His work pants are field to the bursting with powerful thighs now laced with veins as he wills them thicker, stronger, as he wills himself to be faster.

And then he’s there, Wes is quietly working as he often is. Though Alex often delivers the party their meals on game days, rarely is he ever alone with Wes, but the man seems a quiet sort. When the painter sees the man enter he smiles and offers a miniature to look at, “Ah! Nice to see you Alex!” The thin Wes’ eyes brighten with a smile, veiling the red behind his irises, “How’s this lil guy look?” Alex struggles to quiet his heavy breathing and temper his clear overreaction, clearly nothing is actually happening, he’s being delusional. Were he to look down at his lower body to find his pants rapidly changing texture and rising to become shorts and exposing his new beefy calves he’d surely maintain the right level of fear. Instead catching his breath he leans in close to inspect Wes’ work.

“Woah huh, yeah. That looks huh, crazy good Wes!” He can’t imagine the precision required for such deliberate brush strokes. Wes must be a man of great patience. And then he blinks and there is nothing in the man’s hand. In fact that cannot be the hand of this shy artist. Instead he’s staring at a meaty paw and punching himself for losing sight of his self-assigned mission as he sees the unreal take hold of reality once more. He hears a burp tear through the air as the man in front of him guffaws, “buUURRP- Huhhuh! Sorry bruh, didn’ mean to getcha with that one huh!” He can’t tear his eyes away as the man's arms grow thick with fat and muscle in equal part as he clumsily wipes red paint on his beyond ratty shirt.

The sleeves disappear as it morphs into a sweat and paint covered cutaway. All the while the man continues oppressively laughing. He scratches at his now exposed pits and Alex stares with fear as with each stroke his fingers drag through more, thicker, darker hair. Apathetic as he simultaneously mars his sticky pits with paint and coats his ungainly fingers with a musk that now seeps through the air. His legs similarly burst free from their confines as they are covered with thick curls from his newly bulging package to his lengthening hairy toes. Wes goes to grab his paint cup and raises it to drink. Alex doesn’t even have a chance to react as it shifts into a beer can.

The paint covered slob downs whatever swill left in the can in one gulp before clumsily crushing it against his bulky thigh and tossing it to the floor, “What’s wrong fucker, look like ya’ve seen a ghost huhuh! Oh waiiit shit you got our food, ya?” Again Alex doesn't speak up or even move as the barrel chested man barrels past him to get to the Chinese food left in a heap by the entrance. Wes’ meaty hand forced on Alex’s chest leaves a sickly red stain, launching his top to begin its change from a plain uniform to more of a slutty crop top, one perfect to display Alex’s new meatier arms as they hang lower from shoulders that widen with every heaving breath. Seeing the man leave he is filled with an urgency to move himself, he needs to get out of here. 

He needs to- his eyes flash from the door to Wes tearing through the delivered takeout, to the red trail bleeding towards the living room, before finally landing on the kitchen. His throat burns yet again, what a thoroughly unimportant need, but one that nonetheless must be sated. Despite the world around him, poor Alex simply needs a drink. 

Unfortunately for the struggling delivery man, upon entering the kitchen he only finds more otherworldly horror. Alex is promptly torn between instincts of flight and fight as what he sees fills him with fear. Thoroughly stuck, he sees a massive man struggling to free himself from underneath the kitchen sink. Despite knowing this cannot be the case, when he stares at the cut abdomen of this figure wrenching away at a pipe he simply knows it to be Ian. Alex tries to jam his eyes shut and picture the friendly man who greeted him upon his entry.

Unfortunately, as soon as he does so the only thing his psyche can do is imagine the piecemeal conversion of his acquaintance into the pornstar posing as a handyman before him. He sees the smiling eyes of Ian go vacant as a dull, horny hunger fills him. Sifting through a lifetime lived, he sees the man pretend to stretch and reveal the lowest row of abs that now punch out of his stomach. Thick hands reaching out to massage shoulders as every soul he stands in front of seems to him nothing more than the chance for some release. In the most immediate moments of Ian’s new life, Alex sees the brute grow frustrated with adjusting his constantly throbbing package through his pants before simply tearing them off as if they were nothing. 

The delivery man is then pulled back to the now. Frozen watching the man before him, grease covered forearms barely visible beside a sweat covered meaty chest. His deep, dumb voice echoing out from the cupboard, “Yeah you shoulda called me out here weeks ago dude- Gonna have to be coming out, like, uhhh, every day next week probably.” Alex fails to gulp again as he can almost hear the wanting smirk on Ian’s face in that dark crawlspace. Seeing a cup of water Ian must’ve laid out for him in his last moments of lucidity, Alex quickly downs it before responding, “Uhm, Ia-” he clears his throat as it remains itchy, only for it to resound deeper, “Ian, you-  this is your apartment.” 

The handyman apparent struggles to remove himself from under the counter, flexing performatively and humping the air as he ambles, bumping his head a good few times before his escape. Each time a throatier grunt ushers forth as his arms tangle and his shoulders grow unfortunately larger, almost wedging him intractably. Alex bites his lip as he is struck with an urge to help only waylaid by the concern that were he to get closer he’d accelerate the kitchen captive’s changes, or worse yet, spread them to himself. Inching closer he discovers it’s quite the former as with each sparing movement closer towards Ian, hair begins to cover him just as it did to the now-slovenly Wes. 

Pubes thicken and race up his waist as a jungle of hair grows thicker underneath arms that seem to be in a state of perpetual flexing. Acne and curls dance across his meaty chest as he finally disengages from the kitchen sink. Head now in the free air Alex watches as a mustache bursts from his upper lip. The man Ian has become dully looks around the kitchen and laughs as he indeed recognizes it as his own. Alex struggles to look away from the cock that now bobs free in the open air, having finally burst free from the strained compression shorts. Watching as the man scratches his stubbly chin with his pipe grease-covered hand as he struggles to produce some wanton thought, Alex wonders what he’s even doing here. 

Where once nothing but horror filled the delivery man’s mind upon seeing such transformation, now he is struck with the absurdity of the situation. Watching two friendly, thoughtful men morph into slobs beyond imagination Alex can’t help but wonder why. When Wes enters the kitchen using his paint covered mitts to fist loose fried rice into his mouth, spilling it all over the floor, Alex decides to simply wash his hands of whatever this bizarre situation is. He hears the two dullards talk in their fried voices, “duuude put some pants on we’ve got company-” “Ah it’s just Alex sure he doesn’t mind seeing my balls huhuh!”

On the way out he passes a hall mirror and for the first time sees what the workings of this impossible realm have done to him. He can’t help but grin as he sees the heavy arms now totally exposed. His thick but still soft hands trace his thin waist and play with the few hairs that make up a treasure trail. His skin burns with sensitivity as his fingers leave an unmistakable red trace as they dance on his tight stomach. He fights the urge to continue upward towards a chest that hangs clearly in between his new pistons though stays strong, in a way, and starts for the door. He has still kept his mind and surely when he leaves all will be normal. This isn’t happening and he’s not about to grope himself in a customer’s apartment. 

And yet, when he hears the sounds coming from Ian’s small den he can’t help but take a look. He remembers Wes mentioning the pair had been arguing over the direction of the campaign but clearly Tyler and Chuck have worked out their differences, as it were. Alex rolls his eyes at his presumably repressed psyche having lost the plot of whatever episode this is as he sees the once dungeon master lean in to aggressively make out with the player who had long been yearning for some romance in their sessions.

Alex can’t help but allow his hands to inch towards his own wanting crotch as he stands to watch. His eyes flash red as he sees the room as it was when he entered the apartment. The argument in the living room abruptly ending as the men are struck with swaths of red mist flown in from under the doorway, light from the afternoon deepens and shifts to stage lighting as if the den was only a set. Chuck jokes about more sensual and sex-themed RPGs as he puts his arms behind his head, ignoring as his hairline rapidly disappears and sweat stains appear in his pits. Tyler licks his lips as the small crystal on a string he never leaves home without quickly thickens and grows heavy as the crystal itself shifts into a lock he hasn’t the key for. 

Both men shift awkwardly as they are immediately struggling against a primal hunger that rolling dice could never satiate. They pull at their clothes soaking heavy with sweat and oil, Ty’s hair shortens into something barely longer than the new hair that begins to pattern his chest. The player gasps as his master’s new beard scratches against his own rough cheeks, when his head is forced down to the man's pillow chest he is torn between desires to lick and lavish or to bite and tear. The pair then fall onto the stained couch as Alex simply continues to watch. Unable to look away, unable to remove his own sweaty palm from a crotch that begins to strain against his shorts. From afar Alex begins to understand his place.

When his fingers catch in newly thick pubes he suddenly comes to his senses and falls away from the men moaning as they struggle to strip from clothes that are almost tight enough to act as bondage for the fucking pair. Alex stumbles backwards, grabbing the remaining orders he has left to deliver with the hand he didn’t begin to publicly masturbate with and sprints from this true hellhole of an apartment, hoping more than anything that just like at Zhao’s it was all in his head. Just an imagination that has suddenly become overactive and obsessed with transformation. He’d heard of the fetish at least, stranger things have happened, probably?

Free at last from the slobs and exhibitionists that clinging to hope are actually just friends chatting over takeout once more, Alex contemplates just turning himself in for his own safety. Surely he’s not expected to just continue doing his job in the middle of what can only be a psychotic break. At the same time, what if he is indeed some courier of change. What if he is the one doing this somehow.

Looking down he sees himself at the very least wearing suitable clothes once more, tracing up his shirt once more however he finds that his form has not been spared. His skin is warm to the touch and the muscle beneath is tight, powerful. He feels thicker hair trailing up from his pubes up decorating abs that he never spent a second working for. A chest that would require him to simply live a different life to earn.

Eyes on the ground he sees shoes a few sizes wider and pants catching on his thick thighs and powerful calves. So too does he see a path forward, laid out, inevitable. At once he understands that he is not truly acting, he is but a messenger, a deliverer, a shepard. What is happening is happening and he must be there to see it through. He is a psychopomp of the changing world and avoiding it, if that’s even an option, can only bring ill. Coming to terms with what he has seen and will see, for the first time he allows himself to grapple with the powerful, primal fulfillment that witnessing these transformations has brought him. Pleasure beyond what he thought was possible. It is no wonder the men did not fret as they were molded into their new forms, it felt, good.

When he remembers the final delivery of the day his curiosity is piqued, another couple. Jen and Rob. Through and through gay he wonders what the next situation has in store as he begins to walk down the long hallway, his footsteps silent leave a trail behind. While in Ian’s apartment he was following a path laid out for him, now that he has embraced the reality of this unreality, now that his will has aligned to get this over with, quickly, he holds the power within himself. Just as Nicky does, just as Timothy did. He steps forward precisely where his feet are supposed to land.

Before he knows it, as if he’s willed it closer, Alex stands outside the apartment. All the while he has continued to grow. His pecs inflate and traps swell and while his tee has expanded a few x’s larger to hide his bloating figure. His pants, having torn a few times over, have given up the ghost to become compression shorts that allow thighs thicker than his head and calves that could kill to remain on permanent display. Feeling his biceps strain against the sleeves of this pump cover that should be too large for any man, he toys with the idea of simply removing it.

Before knocking on the door he smirks as his mind flashes to the shitty man that lies inside, Rob won’t know what to do with himself when he sees the little prudish delivery boy has ballooned into something better than man. Feeling his package strain against his shorts as his thighs flex from the simplest movement, Alex prepares for the first time with intention, though not volition, begin a scene of transformation. He prepares to usher the couple into their new selves, his mind can’t help but skip forward and imagine some twinkish Rob being dominated. “Spoilers,” he whispers to himself grimly as he approaches the door, it opens without him even needing to beckon and he walks in with the couple’s lunch.

“Alex!” Jen cheers, her eyes alight with forced delight as she has clearly been in argument with her fiance, as he often finds them. She stands hands on the counter and her ever-frustrating partner sits on the couch playing Elden Ring, she motions for the delivery man to come in and finally her eyes land on the man who now stands a few heads taller than her. “Wha-,” her eyes flash red as her desires are more than clear to Alex, I want to be the man in the relationship. He doesn’t care all that much to explore the gender dynamics, nor does whatever power that moves through him as he sees the woman gasp and shiver as it becomes clear that she is a woman no longer. On the couch Rob complains.

“Babe what the fuck? Are you flirting with that little bitch to get a rise out of me?” At last Rob turns to inspect the pair standing in the doorway as he sees his fiancee rapidly bursting free from the tight top he whined at her, them, this morning to wear. Jen’s chest pulls inward as their upper body grows with strength they have always been discouraged to pursue, but never stopped hungering for. Hair prickles their chest as a sculpted patch bursts forth between heavy pecs and around nipples that have thankfully not decreased in size.

Below the belt it becomes clear that their, his, masculinity is not in question as Jen in the minds of every person present irrevocably becomes Jake. His hips jut forward against the kitchen counter as permanently shaved pubes race up to meet the garden of chest hair, and down to cover burgeoning balls that begin to fill his bloodstream with enough testosterone to make up for decades of hormonal imbalance. Hair growth is of course centered around a cock that would put any man to shame, the same could be said for Jake’s mind as he almost drools looking down at his new rod.

Stick thin arms become biceps that hide pits almost steaming with b.o. that a life ago she mocked Rob for having, now he simply delights in the new way to exercise his masculinity, his undeniable virility unto the world around him. Groping at his crotch Jake lets loose a deep moan as a new adams apple bulges out of a neck framed by traps still continuing to grow. Veins carrying changes through his growing form tinge red with every beat of his racing heart as for the first time pre drips from his new cock.

On the coach Rob struggles to rise as he sees his boyf- no not his, fiance? No. His eyes widen and he puffs up his chest as he struggles not to meet this obstacle like every one he has faced before now, brute force and a dim witted mind. Alex tilts his head and frowns before raising his hand and faster than anyone could possibly observe a red tendril shoots out, through Jake and into Rob, I want to be the man.

The man who has always been a man falls back and begins to writhe. Muscles barely honed begin to atrophy as the workings of the world fulfill Jake’s desires in the only way they care to. Rob’s stubbled chin begins to grow smooth and hairless as he begins his transformation into Jake’s trophy twink. His sweaty hands, sculpted to a playstation controller claw at the back of the couch as he struggles to climb up and see what is happening to Je-Jake. Fingers thin and nails shine with polish and attention. He feels his stomach contract as he gasps in desire as his, lover, has only continued to grow.

While his own chest and torso begin to suck in and smooth over, Jake’s has only continued to expand and amass power. Hair begins to pour from every pore on the new man as he bloats larger. Jake’s legs burn with power as his figure converts child bearing hips into dense powerful thighs and a waist that will allow him to keep his slutty twink bouncing for hours in bed. Meanwhile Robbie’s does precisely the opposite, waist thinning out to be easily grabbed and manhandled by his tank. Standing next Alex the man almost goes feral with the need to mount his mate as his rough hands clench the counter with a fury.

The already sparse hair on Robbie’s form sloughs off as Jake aggressively scratches at dense hair growing thicker in his pits before shifting to claw at his stubble as it becomes a thick messy beard on his face. Drool drips from his mouth as he groans with a voice that grows decibels deeper with each haphazard breath, Jake glowers at the feminine figure biting his lip as it bloats larger, moaning and posing on the couch as his hair lengthens and curls. It’s all Jake can do to avoid climbing like an animal over their kitchen island to pounce on the twink languishing on the couch, his skin softening and growing more supple by the second.

Alex watches disinterested as Rob grows thin, docile, hungry for pleasure that only Jake will be able to offer. He sees Jake become the man he always yearned to be, the man he was always going to be. In his mind's eye he sees the scene that will happen as soon as he leaves, as soon as he allows it. Furniture broken, not for the first time, as the pair fuck as if there was nothing else in the world but sexual fulfillment, perhaps there is nothing else in the world. Alex ponders the paths that the world may go down if this is to be the case, he searches for futures that don’t go down this route and struggles to find one.

Hearing Jake chomping at the bit, struggling with the urges of a new powerful pair of blue balls, and seeing Robbie’s mouth reflexively hang open with lustful abandon he understands that his work here is done. He nods at the new beast and Jake as he has always wanted jumps his fiance. Robbie is all too happy to be put in his place by a man who is more than he ever could be. Alex watches for a moment but despite his embrace, if not understanding, of his role in this tapestry, he knows he has work yet to do as his own form begins to ephemerally change.

He turns to leave and shuts the door behind him, barely dulling the sound of shattering glasses and fervent moans behind him. Down the hall he hears the festivities he set forth earlier have not stopped, in fact it sounds as if the neighbors to the apartment have joined in on the fun. Alex is sullen as he looks down the hallway, seeing tendrils launching forth from his footprints into each and every apartment passed. Masculine moans abound, deepening in some and rising higher in others. Flashes of cowboys getting creative with lasso, smoke seeping under door frames as once powerful executives try to hotbox their suite, pajamas shifting into uniforms before being removed with haste. Men fighting against their own changing lusts and bodies, and others who are more than happy to give into them. And Alex can do nothing but deliver, accelerate, and watch.

Something of a unique figure in this situation thanks to Nicky, Alex maintains his wits despite his urges to join in on the ‘fun’. Work yet to do, he flexes to simply use some of the energy building within him and his form graciously expands once more. His shorts turn to briefs which leave little at all to the imagination. Sighing, the melancholy psychopomp is nevertheless pleased with what an impressive figure he has become. Holding one final delivery in hand he sets off to the place he has all along said he would. Holding but a small package of rangoons with Nicky’s name on the receipt he takes the elevator down to the ground floor.

Alex pointedly doesn’t look towards Jirou Heroes as he exits onto the street, bestowed with whatever power Nicky unwittingly did, he is well aware of what he would see if he were to look anyway. With the solemnity of the reaper which he is, Alex walks into the cafe to see Simon has arrived ahead and broken the news less than gracefully. His beefy arms are around the catatonic haphazard spellcaster as Simon, kind but incable, tries to make right the impossible. Explain the incoherent, make Nicky aware of what is going on so they may work all of it out together. Alex purses his lips and hesitates before smiling morosely at his friend and offers forth the smallest bit of levity, “Rangoons for Nicky?”

To say his eyes fall is not accurate, his hands cover his mouth as he sees the direct handiwork of his twisted words. Where his irises should be there are only deep red pits, “This isn’t what I wanted. Why would I want any of this.” The Talisman he never truly asked for glows red enough to be seen through his shirt, Alex and Simon both see it and instantly understand that this is the true source of what happened at the gym, what is happening next door, what is happening in the cafe around them had they the bandwidth to notice. 

In the eye of a hurricane of change, Simon grabs Nicky’s hand and squeezes, Alex puts his new meaty palm on his dear friend’s shoulder. Understanding there is no time to waste, Nicky bucks up and with the support of these two men he has irrevocably changed, opens his eyes and grabs at the talisman. Though not at all knowing what he should do, he knows and Alex assures him that it must be done right now. His hands tremble and his eyes tear up from the pressure, red tears dripping down his cheeks. And then he does what must be done.

Potentialities:

Ah poor poor Nicky, lotta pressure on the guy let’s see what he ends up doing! While the others have primarily been choosing between transformations these last lot are choosing the ending, all will hold transformations galore of course!

Post’ll go up on Sunday as usual but it’ll last a week as I’m probably going to take the week of Christmas off haha!  

Self-Sacrifice:

No time to think, alas the guilt ridden and noble Nicky says take me instead. Instantly we return to the mystical non-place where this all started. After a bit of chat, gambling, and discussion of what a big ask it is to not only end but undo the changes. The man who gave him the power to change it all decides what, or whom, his sacrifice is worth.

Pass the Buck:

Alex and Simon are here aren’t they? Surely a man already morosely writing off the world and another whose mind has been described as ‘gears barely turning’ a half-dozen times can figure something out.

World Peace:

Well now, is it not the real responsible thing when granted unlimited power to ensure that all problems are solved? What could go wrong when something already twisting desires and morphing every living being it can get its hands on receives explicit permission to work globally. Nothing untoward I’m sure.

[superluver]

Together again | Gojo Satoru

wc: 1282

warnings: MAJOR SPOILER WARNING, SPOILERS FOR SHIBUYA INCIDENT ARC AND MANGA, Chapter 236, mentions of pregnancy(literally one word), FEM!Reader, Wife reader — NOT PROOFREAD

(I didnt put an exact warning because it would literallt give away what happened)

Pairing: Husband!GojoxWife!Reader

desc: You meet with Gojo after two long months

He doesn't remember much, just a blink and he was back as his high school self. A female, hand on her hip, a curious expression written all over her face. Staring at him, she tilted her head. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”

Satoru Gojo wants to laugh, like this was all some cruel joke.

Here you were, in front of him after not having seen your face(though younger) in almost 2 months since the incident in Shibuya— where you died.

He partially blamed himself. He watched you during your last moments, and selfishly, he’s grateful he didn’t actually see your death. His wife, his one and only. He smiles, and laughes as he pulls you in by your waist into a hug. “My boy did so good,” you whisper, allowing him to dig his head further into your torso as you giggle, your own fingers curling in his hair.

You smell exactly the same, like home. A home he never got to give you.

After he’s done being whiny, and well, a child, he pouts, throwing his head back.

“Aw man this is awful!” He shouts, and you laugh. The person he doesn't realize sitting beside him speaks up.

Suguru. His best friend, the one he had to kill, the one that would keep him up at night. The one that—

“Guess you were wrong.” you giggle, and Suguru stares at the two of you like you were keeping a secret joke from him.

You point at him mischievously, “He was all like, when you die you die alone, to his students, but look at the reality of it— well not really reality but still!”

He whines, “(Y/N)!!!”

Suguru breaks the ice, “How was the king of curses?”

Satoru huffs, shaking his head with a half hearted grin. He nods his head so the side, the empty seat beside him— which you take, his hand taking yours while you sit

It’s cold, just like his.

The tip of his nose hits the back of your palm, his eyes are closed before opening halflidded, staring out into the floor. His eyes peer over the overly tinted glasses, responding, “That guy was too damn strong, and he wasn’t even trying.”

It was almost mumbled, like a child complaining. Still holding your hand, he looks at Suguru, “To be completely honest, I don’t think I would even be able win.. regardless if he had Megumi’s cursed technique or not. The guy had too much up his sleeve.”

Your free hand pats his arm, laughing loudly you shake him lightly with a coo, “It’s alright, you’re my loser anyways baby,” you say with pressed eyebrows and puckered lips, almost teasingly.

He rolls his eyes, biting your hand lightly.

“I gave everything I had. Just a little sad you guys weren't there to support me, maybe you would’ve been able to give me a slap on the back to motivate me,” He jokes, shaking his head with closed eyes, imagining Suguru and yourself in the crowd of students.

“I’m glad that he was the one to kill me.” He confessed.

Somebody stronger than me. He wanted to say.

“It’s kind of gross hearing that from you, Gojo. You sound like a samurai general.”

You’re laugher bubbles up from your throat, tears forming as you turn back feom your seat.

“Kento, you’ll never change, will you?” You laugh, watching Satoru smack Nanami on the head multiple times, ruffling his hair in the process. You get up, releasing Satoru’s hand to sit in the seat besides Nanami. Smiling as the seat behind you is now empty.

Shoko.

It was for her, she was the last of the group, and you hope she wouldn't be here for a while.

“I won’t justify him, but I’ll sympathize with you.. I guess..” he mumbles, causing you to slap him on the shoulder with no ill intent, laughter from his stoicness.

“Hey!” Satoru snaps back, and you reach over and pinch his cheek.

“What I’m trying to say is, it was a fitting way to go out, Gojo.”

“You should be morw polite to your Juniors.” You chastise Satoru.

“I was already nice enough to you!” He retorts, and you tilt your head with a smile. His hand takes yours that was clipped to his cheek back in his,

“What was it like for you guys in your last moments?”

You blink, looking around the room.

“It was kind of scary,” you start, and he clenches your hand slightly. He remembers how the two of you split, you pecked him on the cheek with a determined expression, clenching your fist you told him you would be back, before warping to Harajuku. It was the last time he woult see you conscious.

You had crossed paths with Mahito, and you had it under control, until you didn't. Your weak nature, strong virtue, Satoru told you these would get in the way of you becoming a sorcerer, but you would always brush him off, telling him, I’m fine.

But you couldn’t help it, seeing a small girl in the line of Mahito’s path of destruction. Your arm was the price to pay for her life.

And, maybe you had lost too much blood, you cant remember, it’s a blur, but Satoru remembers.

Your leg contorted in a way he coulf only asume was unfoxable, your arm missing, eye streaming blood, you were dead. But his six eyes said you were alive, that you both were. And he was hopeless, tued up by the prisom realm, watching your eyes dim, he watched you die.

“To be honest, I wanted to quit with Kento, but I just couldn't bring myself to leave you alone doing all this. I don’t regret it to the end,” you smile loving at him, and he feels like vomiting.

“I would do this a thousand times over if I got to be with you every time.” You tell him sweetly, and Nanami coughs, “Enough with the sappy shit.” He grumbles.

You laugh again, and stare at Suguru. He looks back at you, and you feel your lips curling back up into a brighter smile. The man who defected, the man who left you all, he was here, and with you all.

“Once,” all attention back to Nanami. “When I was discussing with Mei-san about where I should move, she told me to move North to become someone new, and to move south to stay the person you are. Naturally, I chose South. I think it’s ironic how I died while betting on my future. But it wasn’t too bad because of Haibara.”

Haibara grins, “Aw! You’re too kind!”

“I see..” Satoru says, and you squeeze his hand back. His head snaps upward, looking right in front of him to Yaga, his voice as annoying as ever, “Yo Yaga! I thought you said no sorcerer dies without regrets!”

You laugh, and he laughs back, the room filled with laughter, Riko, Kuroi, Kento and Yu, Suguru, even Yaga.

“Now I’m hoping this isn’t a dream.” He confesses, while standing up, and you smile.

“It’s not, ya big loser!”

You shout, standing up from your chair and throwing yourself over it, crushing him. He falls back onto the ground, and Suguru jumps on top of you, Yu crushing him as Satoru wheezes, and you see him smirk.

“Welcome back!” You grin, Suguru’s face smushed next to your own. Haibara’s chin resting in between the two of yours.

He takes in the scene in front of him, everybody he’s loved all together, and finally, his arms wrap around the three of you, and he’s just so happy, that he doesn’t even Think about going back.

CLEAR MINDSET THIS IS MY REALITY NO ONE TELLS ME OTHERWISE SHUSH

[dreamescapeswriting]

In The Quiet Moments ~ MYG

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT:1.6K

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Yoongi x reader

 ‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: Established relationships, comfort fic, loving, sweet, yoongi being there for you

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅a/n: I hope you’re doing okay my love, sending all my love and hugs

The world became a blur after the phone call, the phone call that had left you shattered and broken. The moment you heard the words, everything stopped making sense and you felt numb to everything else around you. You don’t even remember dropping your phone, only the heavy weight in your chest, suffocating you as reality set in.

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You just sat there on the couch, staring at nothing.

Yoongi was beside you instantly, his arm sliding around your shoulders, pulling you into him. He didn’t say anything, he didn't need to say anything, he knew there were no words that would fix this, no simple comfort to ease the ache in your heart. How could he even begin to comfort you when he knew your world was shattering around you?

Instead, he let you rest your head on his chest, his hand gently rubbing your arm as the world continued to fall apart around you and he stayed there with you. Grounding you and making sure you had someone by your side, someone to comfort and hold you until you could come back to him.

The day blurred into night, though you weren’t sure when it happened. Time didn’t seem to matter anymore, Yoongi watched you from the kitchen as he started making you a warm drink. You hadn’t moved much since the call. When he'd asked you about how you were feeling you told him that...Everything felt...heavy.

Yoongi stayed beside you through it all, there was no way he was going to leave you when he knew you needed him...Even if you weren't open to him being there at first. You'd battled for him to leave, telling him you wanted to be alone but he knew it was your grief talking. That a part of you felt so upset you were pushing everyone away so you'd never have to feel this way again.

His presence was constant, silent, and steady, he was the rock you needed. Even when you couldn’t form words, he stayed close to you. You leaned against him on the couch, your mind a tangled mess of disbelief and grief.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked gently, his voice soft in the quiet. He slowly put the tray down on the table in front of you, the teapot was steaming and there were two mugs sitting on the tray.

You shook your head at first, but after a moment, you changed your mind. Maybe tea would help. Maybe it would ground you somehow. Your granddad had always told you that tea was something that always helped him in a time of comfort. Leaning forward Yoongi poured you both a cup and handed you the teacup he was holding,

“Just drink a little,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “It’ll help.” You took a small sip, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. The taste barely registered, but the effort he’d put into it made you feel just a little lighter.

"Thanks, Yoongi," you whispered, your voice hoarse after all of the crying you'd been doing that day. Yoongi leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he murmured. “I’m here. Always.”

It was on the third day that the weight of everything truly hit. You woke up feeling more exhausted than you ever had before in your life, your body heavy and unwilling to move. The numbness you’d felt since the phone call had faded, replaced by a pain so deep, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

You’d been sitting on the bed when the tears started—silent at first before they turned into full, uncontrollable sobs. It was as if your body couldn’t handle the grief any longer, and it spilt out in waves, breaking you apart with every breath. Yoongi had already called into work to tell them he wasn't coming in and he would be spending this time to be close to you.

The moment he'd heard you crying he was beside you in an instant, toothpaste down his chin, his hair a mess but he didn't give a shit. He jumped into bed with you and wrapped his arms around you. He didn’t try to quiet your sobs or tell you everything would be okay because he knew right now that it wouldn't be, that to you right now it felt like the end of the world. So he just wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest as you cried into him.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over your sobs. He stroked your back gently and continued to remind you that he was there for you. You clung to him, desperate for something solid to hold onto. Your fingers created creases in his clothes as you cried into him. His shirt was damp from your tears, but he didn’t care. His hand continued to stroke your back gently, soothing you as your body shook with grief.

Hours passed like this. You cried until you couldn’t anymore until your throat was raw and your eyes were swollen. Even then, Yoongi stayed with you, his touch soft and constant.

Eventually, when you finally pulled back, drained and exhausted, Yoongi wiped your tears with the sleeve of his sweater.

“Let me get you some water and cold teabags for your eyes,” he murmured, disappearing briefly before returning with a glass and two teabags just like he said.

"They'll take down the swelling," He explained, you carefully took the glass of water and took a few sips, your hands shaking slightly. You didn't even know where to start with how you were feeling, everything felt as though it was slipping away from you.

“I feel...so lost,” you whispered, your voice barely there. Yoongi took the glass away from your hands gently set the glass down and sat beside you, his hand finding yours.

“You don’t have to know how to feel right now,” he said quietly. “You’re allowed to be lost.”

By the fifth day, the tears had slowed, but the ache in your chest hadn’t faded. You found yourself thinking about your granddad more and more—the little moments that suddenly felt so important. Every photo you saw on your family's social media brought you into sadness and yet happiness all at the same time, remembering the way he had lived his life and everything he'd gone through. But with those memories came an overwhelming sense of loss, of knowing he wasn’t there anymore.

Yoongi noticed, as he always did.

One evening, the two of you sat together in the living room, the silence comfortable but heavy. After a while, Yoongi spoke up softly.

“You used to tell me stories about him all the time.” You glanced at him, surprised by the sudden mention. You sniffled a little,

“Yeah?” He smiled faintly, nodding.

“You told me once that he was the one who got you into music.” A small, sad smile tugged at your lips. He'd been the one to call you 'piano fingers' as a little girl, he'd bought you your first keyboard - even though it was a little kiddy one - and he'd always been there letting you explore your love for it.

“He did. He taught me how to play the piano when I was little.” Yoongi’s eyes softened, his hand finding yours.

“He must have been so proud of you.” You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn't remember the last time you'd played for him and it made your chest tighten,

“I wish he could’ve seen me play again,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Yoongi squeezed your hand gently.

“He’d be so proud of everything you’ve done. You know that, right?” The tears finally spilt over, and Yoongi pulled you into his arms, letting you cry into his chest.

“I miss him,” you choked out between sobs.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand running through your hair soothingly. “But he’s still with you in everything you do. In every note you play.”

The days blurred into weeks, and though the pain was still there, it wasn’t as sharp as it had been. You were learning to live with it, to carry it with you instead of letting it drown you. You learnt to remember your granddad with love and the way he would want you to move on instead of dwelling over it.

Yoongi stayed by your side through it all. He made sure you ate, even when you didn’t want to. He reminded you to sleep, even when your mind wouldn’t let you rest. He was there in every quiet moment, never pushing you, never asking more of you than you could give.

One night, as you lay beside him in bed, staring up at the ceiling, you finally spoke.

“Do you think I’ll ever be okay again?” Yoongi shifted beside you, his hand sliding over yours.

“I think...it’ll take time. I don’t know if it’ll ever feel the same, but it’ll hurt less.” You nodded, the weight in your chest still there but not as suffocating as before. This was the first time you'd ever lost someone so close to you, everything was still so new and unknown.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the dark. Yoongi turned his head to look at you, his eyes soft with affection.

“You won’t ever have to find out.” He kissed your forehead gently, pulling you closer into his arms, your head pressed against his chest. You closed your eyes, feeling his steady heartbeat against your ear, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[goldsainz]

❝ IN MY HEAD, WE BELONG ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . art donaldson x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . smut (riding, protected sex), cheating, reader’s kinda delusional, toxic behaviour, not proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . all it takes is a text and a lonely hotel room.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . first art fic i am beyond excited 🤭 many more to come and my requests are open so if you have any ideas feel free to leave them in my inbox!!!!!! forgot how fun writing smut was, kinda crazy to have my first art fic be smut but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless 💙

[ word count: 1,7k ]

You know it is wrong to long for Art Donaldson. To not have moved on, but your life is incomplete without him. You tried to find someone else, someone who can compare to him, yet there is no one like him.

He’s not yours, no, in fact he’s married now. He has managed to move on from you, he has created a life for himself and he doesn't need you. Not like you need him, anyway.

You tune in for his matches, watch him beat his opponents and then run to his beautiful wife to celebrate. They actually looked good together, seemed like a proper couple and were the perfect faces of tennis. You could not be that for Art, you're too much of a mess to even dare to be as idyllic as Tashi Duncan.

Maybe that's why it feels so good that he’s currently under you, that it's your name he's moaning and your kisses he’s searching for. Maybe that’s the reason why you feel so unbothered by wrecking a home, because if he cheats, is there even much of a home to begin with? You don't think so. 

He’s like a vice you cannot seem to quit. Even when you first broke up, it took less than two days for him to hit you up and for you to be outside his house. Nobody knows you like Art, and nobody knows Art like you. You wonder if his wife is aware of how much he dreams of you, that when he’s with her, he’s thinking about you.

All it takes is for one of you to reach out, and you both throw all dignity out the window. The measly barriers you both created collapse in a second, no words need to be said to know what the other wants. It is quite simple between you two, perhaps in a way that is too carnal and not emotional enough. 

That is why, for some reason you don’t care enough to think about, he’s in your hotel room. 

You’re in New York City, alone in a hotel room that feels too big for just one person. You tried to go to a bar, tried to mingle with people in hopes of making your life less lonely. For just one night, at least.

It is not intentional that Art is also in New York, in fact, you’ve tried to steer clear of him and his overbearing presence in your life. It has been months since your last conversation, which consisted of him saying “Happy birthday” and you answering “Thanks”. 

You go back to your hotel room after your attempts at not being alone fail miserably. It is partly your fault, because you always end up in the same vicious cycle of comparing the men you meet to Art. No one can compare to him, and you damn your heart for taking over and not letting you have some enjoyment. 

You’re sprawled out on the bed, wearing your pajamas and scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You consider going to sleep, but something inside you tells you to stay awake and you receive your answer in the form of an imessage notification.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Hey, I heard you’re in NYC.

You

Yeah.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Wanna meet up?

You

Why?

Art (Do NOT contact)

Don’t know. 

Just missed you.

You

You can’t just say that.

Art (Do NOT contact)

I know. 

Are you free right now?

You

It’s 11pm, Art.

Art (Do NOT contact)

So? 

Send me your location.

You

[Location] 

Room 904.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Be there in 20. 

You’re thrust back into reality when he moves beneath you, hitting a spot that makes you arch your back and has you mewling. Guilt doesn’t even make its way through your mind, if anything, the scandalous nature of what you’re doing makes you wetter than you care to admit. 

Art looks up at you like you’re a goddess, a siren that he fell prey to, his eyes shine when he takes in the sight above him. Your tits are bouncing in front of his face, and he has to resist the urge to attach his mouth to one of them, but he’s too concentrated on the faces you make. 

You whine when he grabs your hips and moves you up and down quicker than before. Your hands are planted on his chest, grabbing onto whatever semblance of support you can get. You know how much he likes for you to be on top, loves it when you take control but today he’s antsier and needs to take some control back. So, he settles for tightly gripping your hips and deciding the pace of your movements.

You lean down and connect your lips with his. The kiss is sloppy, teeths clashing and your mouths open to let out a moan when the other does something that makes your toes curl. 

“Please,” he breathes out against your mouth, “Please, let me come.”

“Do you deserve it?” you ask, rearing back to look at him but you don't slow your movements either. 

“Yes, yes I do,” he pants, brows furrowing when he feels the heat in his core bubbling up.

“Only if I come first,” you say, taking one of his hands and placing it on your sensitive nub. 

Art moans at your response and his moves are hasty, rubbing you like his life depends on it. You let out short breaths at his touch, the heat inside you creeping up and ready to set off like fireworks.

He looks at your blissed out expression, how your bottom lip is between your teeth in an attempt to conceal the beautiful sounds you make. He’s tempted to use the other hand that’s on your hip to take your lip away from your teeth, but his thoughts are cut short when you clench tightly around him.

“I’m close, Art,” The blonde doesnt need to hear you say it, he knows your body like the back of his hand. 

It is no surprise when you come around him, a high-pitched moan escapes your mouth when your body shakes from pleasure. Like clockwork, Art spills inside his condom almost instantly after your release washes over you. 

He gives a few sloppy thrusts after he comes, feeling you collapse onto his chest, tired out from your orgasm. Art kisses the side of your head, heavily breathing and trying to form a coherent thought. Though it is quite hard when he is so fucked out. 

You separate yourself from his chest and press another kiss to his lips. Relishing on the closeness between you, he places his hand on the nape of your neck and keeps you in place.

After a few seconds he slips himself out of you. You whine at the loss of the fullness you felt, but he quickly shushes you with a simple kiss. It’s softer this time, sweeter than you deserve and more romantic than you’d like. 

You remove yourself from being on top of him, and lay down beside him. The pillow is soft and comforting, you keep your gaze trained on the ceiling and try to calm your harsh breathing down. You hear the rustle of the bed sheets and then feel yourself being covered by them, the soft touch of Art’s hand when he handles the sheets and brushes his knuckles against your chest makes you shiver

“This was fun,” he lets out, like he just got off an amusement park attraction. 

You can only hum in response, slightly turning your head to look at him. That is your mistake, because once you take in his beauty you cannot stop doing so. It makes you want to do things you shouldn’t, say things that would ruin whatever’s going on between you two.

“How long are you staying here for?” the question takes you aback, do you want him to know you schedule? A small part of you, the rational one, tells you to lie and put this little rendezvous behind you. But the part that makes most of the decision, the one that you damn each day, makes you tell him the truth.

“Until friday,” you respond, playing with the corner of the bedsheets between your fingers.

“Okay, cool,” he says back, it’s tuesday and that leaves you with just a couple days to see the other. How badly you wish that this wasn't what your relationship was now, but you have to make do with what you have. At least until you're pulled back into reality. 

You’re not sure why but the idea of him seeking you out once more, feels your tummy with a fuzzy feeling akin to butterflies.

“Yeah,”

Time seems to stand still for a few minutes, with his hands behind his head and yours resting just below your chest. It’s as if neither of you want to break the moment that’s happening, one that has a close expiration date.

After a moment of quiet, he finally breaks the silence, “I’m glad I’m here,”

You don't know how to respond so you settle for a simple, “Me too,”

For a moment, you both just look at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. It's a fleeting connection, intense yet fragile, and you know that despite it neither of you belong to the other.

“I should get going,” he tells you, sitting up from his laid down position in bed and searching for his sprawled around clothes.

“Sure,” you answer as you watch him clothe himself, intently keeping your eyes trained on his figure.

“I’ll text you,” he says when he’s done clothing himself, “We could hang out again,”

“Okay,”

He looks at you once more, and you swear you see him hesitate when he reaches for the door handle. Something inside you aches for him to kiss you goodbye, to give you that intimacy that youre no longer privy to.

But as quick as that thought crosses your mind, he’s out the door.

Art doesn't text you as he said he would. You want to be mad at him, but you know you’ll be waiting for the day he messages you, and you can tally another clandestine meeting to your board. After all, you belong eternally to him and he to you. 

[evieelyzabethh]

Love your work. <3 Could you write something with reader x spike where they're kinda' pining for one another, but one night he gets injured and has to stay over at her house? She patches him up and maybe offers him a bite? Doesn't have to be nsfw but +5 cool points if it is. <3

Hello, my loves, long time no see!!! I hope this is to your liking <3

Spike is so incredibly reckless. You knew this, he knew, everybody knew that Spike was a walking accident waiting to happen'. He likes to think he can handle himself. "I'm bad, baby," he'd tell you, "M' the big bad slayer killer. I can handle a few scratches." But you were never worried about what he could handle, you were worried about the fact that his blood was always staining your couch. That and the fact that his lack of self-preservation kept you up at night.

Usually, he has some decorum. He doesn't come to you with every scrape and bruise, even though you handled him with much more care than he was capable of extending to himself. It was his way of punishing himself, depriving himself of your head scratches and soft hands for bothering you too much. You scolded him for this, of course. It seems like its every other week (more like every other day) when you and he argue, most often in front of the Scoobies who waited anxiously for you take your arguments to the bedroom, about him leaving you to worry about whether or not he was ash.

"I mean, fuck Spike. Is it really that hard to just give me a call if you plan on bleeding at your place. A little 'Hi, yeah, I don't think I need my wounds treated with modern medicine, I'm gonna take my chances with old whisky and tetanus like the good ol' days'." And every time he takes his well-earned lecture with a smirk and a bowed head.

"Yes, mother, next time I'll break your door down at three in the morning for some pretty pink bandages."

"If you were so ashamed of the pretty pink bandages, maybe you should think before you run into knives!"

Spike has maybe told the truth a grand total of two times in his whole life, so his word means absolutely nothing. He continues to ignore your street like the plague unless it's an absolute emergency.

Now was an emergency.

You barely heard the faint knocks on your door from your bedroom, where you sat on your bed, music blasting from your stereo and some reality court show droning on in the background, catching your attention when someone decided to be particularly messy. You had thought it was your neighbors blind dog scratching at your door again until something large and loud hit it. Quickly arming yourself with a frying pan, you crept to your door, tearing it open for a very injured Spike to nearly fall flat on your floor before he caught himself using your doorframe.

His left hand clutched at his bleeding side and he walked with a limp over to his couch which now had a plastic cover. His dead heart was touched.

"Aw, you were waiting for me, " he croaked out. He fell on his back, one of his hands falling over the side and his eyes closing as soon as his head at the pillow. His shirt had claw marks that were lined with blood and his duster had barely escaped the carnage, a few holes separate from the preexisting moth holes sticky with some supernatural substance.

"Have to be prepared when it comes to you." You patted his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbones to try and arouse some consciousness. "Can't have you fallin' asleep on me. You might not wake up." You weren't going to leave his side until you were sure he wasn't going to die in your absence.

He babbled unintelligently, his mouth moving but having no connection to his brain to form any sort of actual thought. His eyes flit between closed and aware, his head moving to catch up with the spinning room, his mouth impossibly dry, and his head pounding. In his head, he insisted he was fine, but the words wouldn't come out right. He spat them out garbled and messy until he was too choked up to even try anymore.

He was barely conscious when he felt your wrist at his mouth. He had enough sense to shake his head and nudge away your wrist with his nose, but his lack of strength made his attempts futile. "No," he mumbled.

"You'll feel better," your voice swam around in his head until the words lost meaning and he just smiled at the sound of your voice. You swiped your thumb across one of his canines, the red contrasting with the pearly whites of his teeth swiftly wiped away by the pink of his tongue. After the taste of your blood was on his tongue, his sense was surrendered to instinct as he brought your wrist to his lips.

You didn't know what you were getting into. Vampires get their life force from blood, so it just made sense to have him feed from you to expedite the healing process. The more he drank, the louder your heartbeat grew in your ear and the closer he pulled you to him. You had only done this once before, when you were both drunk and dizzy and jokes being whispered in your ear turned into tiny nips from your neck that Buffy nearly walked in on.

In complete shock of what had happened then, you never brought it up, halfway convincing yourself that it never happened in the first place. If it did happen, he had enough sense to pull away then and you hoped he had the sense the pull away now, but now was much different. Now, there was a newfound hunger. A desperation. Like he had been starving himself for years and you were the first bite of food he had eaten. Had to have been good food to, with the way he inhaled you, indulged in you like you were some ambrosia or golden mead.

"Spike," you moaned. "I'm getting a bit light-headed." Your voice was high and thin, fearful as you made attempts to pull your arm from his lips. Through his haze, his fangs contracted back, and his tongue swiped whatever lingered on your skin.

"I'm sorry." Sorry for going too far, sorry for almost turning you into an empty Capri Sun pouch, sorry for being reckless again.

" 's ok."

You wobbled a bit as you stood, fingers wrapped around your wound as you shuffled into your kitchen in pursuit of your first aid kit. "You gonna tell me what happened?" He only groaned from the couch.

"Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired." You laughed on your way over to him, wrist already covered in gauze with an all too familiar needle and thread in hand.

"You're tired?" The smell of your blood was all too pungent, still. He turned his head towards the wall, studying the numerous music posters and paintings you had hanging.

"Going out to fight evil is a very hard job." You chuckled.

"I know. That's why I stay in here to patch you up." Your fingers were like magic. They always had a way of calming him down. Especially the way you hummed to yourself while you worked. You were never content with just silence. "I expect an answer in the morning." He smiled.

"Yes, ma'am." He fell asleep before you even finished and by the time you were done, you were too tired to walk the down the hall to your bed. You laid your head down on his chest, with no heartbeat to thrum and no breath to rock you, you still fell asleep just like that. Who knew cold bodies were so comfortable.

[myfictionaldreams]

Family // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sirius Black, the usually happy prankster within Hogwarts, had a special skill for hiding his emotions. Until one day, he's forced to face the realities of the troubles with his family.

Requested by: @bullets-from-another-dimension Thank you so much for the request and for showing me that Sirius needs a little more love! I hope you like this fic, and thanks for your support with the poly!marauders ♥

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst (lots!), fluff (also lots!), emotional hurt, discussion of Sirius' abusive family, disowned, crying, hugs/kissing, polyamory relationship, nipple play, body worship, making out, oral sex (m receiving), happy ending

A/N: This is just a little PSA that I'll be going through my other Poly!Marauders fics sometime soon to change some bits to make sure that each of the boys is getting enough love! It won't be anything major for the overall story, just spreading the love equally as it appears Sirius may have been skipped a few times (and I don't want that!), so check for an 'edited' note on the story. Thank you for pointing this out to me!

Words: 4.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The last 24 hours had been an emotional rollercoaster, with both positives and negatives coming to light. It had started with the ultimate showdown game of Quidditch between Slytherin and Gryffindor; with both Sirius and James on the team. You and Remus had been nervous wrecks just for the game, let alone all the tension drowning within the two enemy houses. This escalated outside of the pitch, with wands having to remain in hands between lessons to prepare for sabotage attacks from either team.

It was endlessly tiring the days leading up to the events, and it was some kind of a miracle to be standing in the Gryffindors' stands without a single injury. Now, however, you and Remus had to live through the fear of watching your boyfriends fly around with their roles as Seeker and Beater.

You were sure you’d accidentally bitten your nail down to the cuticle by the end of the match, and your throat felt as if you’d swallowed sandpaper with how sore it was with the screaming and shouting you’d been doing in support. There was instant relief as James finally caught the snitch, and everyone cheered.

“Do you think he’ll be ok?” you shout up to Remus, who, with his height difference, could see over the crowd to where the commotion was occurring on the pitch. As James had dived for the snitch, so had the Slytherin’s seeker, who just happened to be Sirius’ brother, Regulus. However, in mid-dive, Regulus accidentally knocked into one of the goalposts, hitting his head and falling from his broom. Thankfully to the Slytherins, Sirius had been close by and caught his falling brother from gaining any further injuries.

Remus was nodding to your question, “Yes, he’s walking away, well - he’s pushing Sirius away, so I’m sure he’s just fine”, he explained, watching Regulus shove Sirius, so the man stumbled away. A pang of guilt settled heavily in your stomach at the thought of the brothers arguing. You knew that the relationship between Sirius and his brother was non-existent these days, and it only made you feel more awful for your boyfriend, understanding how difficult it must have been to lose his family in the way he has.

You couldn’t ponder on these thoughts as the entirety of Gryffindor and the vast majority of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff began celebrating the win. This included Sirius, who scooped you into an exaggerated hug, spun you high into the air, and carefully placed your feet back onto the floor.

“Was your brother alright?” You shout to Sirius over the noisy crowd forming around the winning team. For a split second, you witness sadness filling his grey eyes before he snaps out of it and a beaming smile replacing the momentary lapse in his emotions.

“Oh, he’s fine; I’m sure a quick knock to the head will bring some sense to him. Anyway, come on, let’s all go back to the common room; I have a special surprise for everyone”. Sirius was great at many things, and covering his emotions was one of them. Any attempts to open up about the situation regarding his family would change the subject within the blink of an eye. You respected that he didn’t want to talk about any of his family members, but you still kept a close eye on him, making sure that he didn’t pent up his emotions until he was at breaking point, which you feared would occur one day as there was only so much one person could go through.

The interaction with Regulus seemed to have been forgotten in the madness of celebrating, which ran into the early morning hours in the Gryffindor common room. It would have continued later, but Professor McGonagall arrived in her dressing gown and demanded everyone go to bed. Sirius needed the most help to bed, having drunk the ‘surprise’ fire whiskey he regretted deeply in the morning.

“I’m never drinking again. Who’s idea was it anyway to bring Firewhiskey?!” came the deep groan of the man lying face first beside you, his face thoroughly buried into the pillow. Your temples were pounding slightly; you’d felt worse hangovers, but it was still uncomfortable as you rolled over towards Sirius.

Your arm wrapped over his naked back, face pressed over his shoulder blade as you could feel the toned muscles adjusting to your presence as you melted into his warmth. “It was your idea. I’m never falling for your charms ever again, Sirius”, you mumbled against his skin, reminiscing on his sweet talking skills from last night that convinced you to have a drinking competition with him.

This pulled him out of the half-unconscious state as his mop of hair turned in your direction. The movement caused you to roll off him and witness the beautiful sight of his morning glow; even in his hangover, he was handsome with one eye squished closed as the room was too bright.

Sirius turned his body entirely towards you, huffing as he moved, and you refrained from trying to reach out and control the usually silky locks of hair that were now all knotted and tangled on the top of his head. “Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure my charms made you cum three times before the fire whiskey joined the party,” he commented confidently and admired the warmth that filled your face. You attempted to hide your smile at the memories but were soon fully scream-laughing as Sirius tried to break your facade by tickling your sides.

Pushing him away, you turned and nuzzled into the naked chest of James, who remained asleep even through your loud laughter, but his arms still wrapped around your shoulders protectively. Besides James, you could see Remus was awake, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Remusssss, Sirius is being mean to me”, you drawl childishly.

The man sighed, dropping his hands to give you and Sirius a pointed look, “Please, children, it’s too early, and my head is too painful for you to make this much noise”.

Sirius smirked as he spooned in close behind you, wrapping his arm around you and James as everyone tried to have a few more moments of beautiful sleep before breakfast, and class pulled the four of you from the safety of the bed.

The food helped to settle the hangovers that the majority of Gryffindor seemed to be nursing this morning, much to the displeasure of McGonagall, who was glaring at her house from the Professor’s table. Sitting beside James, you leaned across him for another slice of toast as Sirius sat opposite you with Remus next to him.

As everyone started to be rejuvenated with energy from the breakfast, the owls began to swoop in and deliver the mail for the day. An emerald-coloured envelope landed on Sirius's lap, which caught the attention of you and the fellow Marauders. You already had your suspicions about who the letter was from. Sirius mostly confirmed it, as he had hardly read the letter before shoving it into his bag and brushing off any attempts at discussing who it was from.

“It’s nothing, just some spam letter. So, who do we have first today? Is it transfiguration? I can’t imagine that will be fun with how angry McGonagall looks right now.” Sirius changed the subject, but it didn’t convince any of you as you eyed him sadly. He didn’t wait for a response as he stood, gripping his bag so tight that his knuckles turned white. “Come on, otherwise we’ll be late”.

You knew something was off just by the quipped tone of his voice, and the humour and light that always seemed to dance in his eyes had been significantly dimmed. Even as James tried to humour him with his usual party tricks and jokes, it only earned him a half-assed chuckle from Sirius. Remus even attempted to pull him aside before entering the classroom to see if he needed a moment alone to talk, but Sirius just distracted him with a quick kiss and said he was fine.

You were quick to sit next to Sirius near the back of the classroom, smiling brightly with the hopes that he would return it, but it seemed he was lost in his thoughts as he idly arranged his parchment paper and quills. Thankfully, as the class began, his hand rested on your thigh so you could link both fingers together, lifting it and kissing the back of his hand.

As McGonagall began to teach the class, you leaned closer to Sirius, savouring the warmth that radiated off him and smelling the citrusy scent from his aftershave. “Is everyone ok, Sirius?” Your voice was barely audible so as not to disrupt the class, but you knew he heard as his posture stiffened, and he nodded his head, fake smiling for a second before returning his attention to the teacher. “I know there’s something wrong. Talking might help; I mean - I want to help-”

“Excuse me at the back. Is there something more important than my lesson?” McGonagall demanded with a passive-aggressive raised eyebrow as all other eyes turned to look at you and Sirius.

As your mouth opened to take the blame, your boyfriend beat you to it, “Sorry, Professor. That was my fault I was distracting her”.

“You’re already on thin ice after last night's antics, Mr Black. See me after class to arrange a detention”.

Your mouth drops open to retort to her and tell him it wasn’t Sirius, but the hand holding yours squeezes, stopping you from saying anything. As McGonagall turns back to write on the chalkboard, you lean close to harshly whisper, “You didn’t have to do that, Sirius! That should have been my detention!”

“It’s only one detention, I don’t care”, he shrugs nonchalantly, releasing your hand to begin writing his notes. You frown so deeply that a line forms between your eyebrows as you glance towards Remus and James, who have similar expressions of worry, especially as Sirius hasn’t even attempted to have any sort of friendly banter with McGonagall like he usually did.

At lunch, Sirius had somehow managed to slip away from the group, and your head seemed to be fixated towards the entrance to the Great Hall, neck straining to see over the other students as you waited for him to walk in.

“I mean, it’s not just me, right? There’s definitely something wrong with him”, you say before nervously nibbling on your lower lip.

Remus’ hand cups your shoulder, gripping gently as he agrees, “It’s not just you. I tried to talk to him before the lesson, but he just pushed me away. He just wants to be by himself; I’m sure he’ll be just fine”.

You nod to yourself but don’t believe his words. Yes, Sirius was strong and had been putting on a strong appearance for years, but he never pushed himself away from the three of you. It was like an invisible angel on your shoulder, trying to nudge you towards him, knowing something wasn’t right.

“Have either of you got the Marauder's map?” you ask Remus and James, who then check their pockets and school bags but cannot find the map.

“Sorry, Love, he’s probably got it with him”, James reports, appearing as deflated as you felt.

Standing from the table, the anxious causing your stomach to clench with unease and unable to eat, you inform the two of them, “I’ll be back later; I just need to make sure he’s ok and safe”.

Remus and James nod in understanding and watch you go. As you stand in the entrance to the Great Hall, you’re unsure where to start and what's worse is that he could be in his Padfoot form, which means he’d be able to hear you coming and run away. There were the grounds to search, Hogsmeade, the entirety of the enormous castle; there were plenty of places for him to be.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you decided to search the dormitory first, hoping the map had been left in a draw up there.

Opening the door to the dormitory room that you shared with your boyfriends, you were welcomed to the sight of Sirius, lying face first on the shared bed, his head turned away from the doors but from the noticeable sniffling noises and his shoulders shaking, you knew he was crying. Your heart felt like someone had reached inside your chest and squeezed as the sight rocked you. Silently as you could, you slipped your shoes off and placed your school bag onto the floor.

You knew he was aware someone else was in the room as his cries softened, and he subtly tried to wipe his face into the pillow. As you began to crawl onto the bed, you could see he was spooning the pillow you usually used to sleep on, clutching it desperately close to his chest. You had to remember to breathe through your nose, remain strong, and not descend into your emotions.

Kneeling next to him, your hand gently met the centre of his back, rubbing slow, comforting circles into his white shirt, hoping the action would comfort him. “Sirius, what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing's wrong” he tried to brush it off, but you could hear the thickness of his voice as he tried to hide his face further in the pillow beneath his head.

“Is it about the letter from earlier? Who sent it to you?” Even though you knew he didn’t really want to talk about it, you knew he’d also built a wall around his emotions and wanted him to feel like he was in a safe enough space to talk, like the many times he’d done the same for you. Reaching over with your other hand, you ran your fingers through the long strands of dark hair, brushing them out of his face that was still turned away from you. “Talk to me, my love, please. I want to help you”.

Reluctantly, Sirius turned over and began to pull you down to lie in the centre of the bed. You did so and spread your arms wide as he moved to lie on your chest, the top of his head resting beneath your chin as you hugged him closely.

“No one important sent me the letter, it’s fine. I just want to cuddle”, he admits with a sigh, relaxing into the hold, the pillow he’d been spooning now forgotten about as he had the real thing instead, finding comfort instantly. In this position, you could hold him close and do the same actions as before, stroking gently up and down his back whilst also playing with his hair.

You want to tell him that you knew who the letter was from, but he seemed content with being held instead for a couple of minutes until you felt dampness seeping across the column of your neck and down your chest as his shoulders began to shake once more.

“Sirius-?”

“It was from my parents. The letter, I mean. Fuck! I don’t know, it's so stupid.” he sits up abruptly, aggressively wiping away the leaked tears he’d been desperately trying to stop.

Sitting beside him, you rubbed his shoulders while trying to calm him down from his overwhelming emotions. “It’s not stupid, my love.” As you talk, you grip his twists to pull them away so he can look into your face and hopefully see the love there. “Your parents, they’re awful people, Sirius, and anyway, you’re perfectly within your right to show emotions every once in a while; I just need you to know that I’m here for you, we’re all here for you, no matter how you are feeling. It’ll be ok”.

Even though it was comforting for him to hear the words, it still seemed to break something within him. Like a crack had formed in the dam as he relented with his cries, openly sobbing into his hands. Whilst trying to swallow the lump that had developed in your throat, you pulled him close, kissing every part of him that you could reach whilst wiping away the cascading tears.

“You don’t have to tell me what was said in the letter, but I just need you to know that they’re not your real family; you know we’re all your family”. Sirius pulls back from the hug, and your bottom lip trembles at seeing how heartbroken he looks. The area around his eyes is swollen and red to match the shade at the tip of his nose as wetness covers the length of his cheeks.

His mouth opens to say something, but he’s interrupted by the door opening and James and Remus stepping into the bedroom. The two men pause, not expecting to find either you or Sirius here, but as they see the sadness and pain on Sirius’s face, they immediately drop their school bags.

“You missed it”, Sirius chuckled, trying to hide his upset behind humour, “She called me an emotional prick, and the waterworks started”. James and Remus gave him sad smiles, but neither fell for the attempt to change the subject as both sat either side of him on the bed. Remus reached for him first, stroking his scarred fingers through the strands of dark hair that had fallen over Sirius’ face, but only so he could kiss the area beneath. Sirius closed his eyes at the touch and leaned into it, releasing a deep sigh through his open mouth.

James grabbed each of his hands, lifting them to his lips to kiss the palms lovingly and rest them on either side of his cheeks, nuzzling into his hands. “Whatever is going on, you know we’re always here for you, Sirius”, James mutters against the palms on his face.

Sirius sighs even heavier as if trying to will the anxiety away through the breaths. “It’s my parents. I mean, should I even call them parents when they’ve already disowned me? But they’ve just sent me more threats today after what happened with Regulus yesterday. They say things like I should have let him win and wish that I had been hurt.”

He takes a moment to compose himself as you grab one of his hands from James, needing to link your fingers together and squeeze to know that it is a safe place for him to continue and talk. Sirius looked into his lap as he spoke, “They’ve burnt my face off the Black family tree. Not that I care; I expected it, but it just all feels so real now, you know? I feel like I shouldn’t even be using the surname Black with how much they detest me. I also kind of expected Regulus to have my back a little bit, but he’s young; I can’t expect that from him, especially as I know what my parents are like, but he doesn’t even say hi to me in the corridors anymore. I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little all over the place, and with the positivity yesterday, just to have my family metaphorically kick me to the curb again, I should have expected the joy wouldn’t last long”.

Sirius sounded empty and emotionless as he expressed how he was genuinely feeling, struggling to come to terms with the repercussions of the events that occurred with his family that continue to affect him.

“Fuck them”, James says with all the venom and confidence that he could muster. Sirius grunts half-heartedly at the declaration, not seemingly convinced, so James turns his face towards him so that he is looking into the stormy hazel eyes. “I’m being serious, fuck them. You’ve been my family for years now; you know my parents consider you their son as much as I am. Nothing has changed. You live with me and my parents because that is your home. Wherever any of us go is your home because we love you. We wouldn’t make you feel half as rotten as those scumbags, do you understand?”

Sirius nods, swallowing thickly, causing his Adam’s apple to bob. Before he can respond, Remus once again holds onto his face, turning him in the other direction to look at the calmest Marauder. “Sirius, next time you receive a letter from them, don’t open it. They are cruel humans who have no love for anyone but themselves and the prejudices that they live by. You had so much joy and love in your heart; don’t let them destroy you and ruin everything you cherish. And that is exactly what James has said. You’re our family. We’re each other's family. You’re ours, just like you’re mine. Get it?”

Sirius’ eyes have dried as he looks up at Remus, and briefly, a genuine smile welcomes across his face as he leans in to kiss him deeply but then pulls back.

Squeezing his hand, you draw his attention towards you. “You deserve the surname Black more than anyone because it’s what makes you, you—breaking the stereotypes of those evil people and making it mean something that doesn't symbolise hatred. However, if you want to have another surname, you can! Sirius, you’re your own person, and your surname doesn’t define you. You could even make up a whole new name! Maybe you could have one of our surnames”, Sirius laughs at the possibility of a name change. “I love you so much. Your family's opinions of you aren’t how anyone else in the castle sees you. You’re perfect the way you are, Mr Black”.

You couldn’t wait any more time to kiss him, needing to feel his lips against yours and reassure him further with these intimate touches.  Thankfully, to your pounding heart, he smiles into the kiss.

“Maybe we could put all of our surnames together”, he jokes as you move to kiss each of his cheeks. 

“If that’s what you want, I’d do it”, you reassure him with a kiss on his temple.

“Almost sounds like a proposal”, he casually mentions, causing your heartbeat to increase rapidly. Sirius smirks at your face but reassures, “Maybe we’ll sort out surnames once we’ve finished our exams”. You press your lips against his once more for reassurance until he looks between the three of you. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if it weren’t for you three. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed before coming to Hogwarts, let alone feel love like this”.

Remus could see the tears pooling along Sirius’ lashline, so he gently cupped the side of his head, wiping away any that fell. “No more tears for them”. The gap between their lips was closed as Remus kissed him passionately, holding the back of his head carefully as they breathed each other in.

Sirius’ head dips slightly, but only to whisper against the man’s lips, “Can you make me forget? Please?”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Sirius”. Remus kisses him again but with more urgency, pushing his body back until Sirius is lying in the centre of the bed with the taller Marauder hovering above him. Their mouths moved together as one, tongues twirling together, heads tilting one way and then the other.

As Remus distracts and devours him with his mouth, Sirius’ hands move around the back of his head, holding him close, which gives James the freedom to move his hands to Sirius’ shirt. With a simple flick of his fingers, James could undo the buttons down the centre of his chest, releasing the toned chest and abdomen of the man whose legs you were sitting between.

You watched with the sadness seeping away and becoming replaced with arousal as James leaned over and licked the nipples of the man who moaned into Remus’ mouth. James was calculated with his movements, making sure to leave teasing licks and bites over the areas that Sirius was most sensitive whilst then worshipping the perked nipples on his chest, his hands caressing the areas where fine dark hair was beginning to grow back from being previous shaved, mainly the snail trail leading beneath his trousers.

Smiling whilst watching them all move together, you were gifted the view of watching the tightness forming in his trousers as his cock grew hard and thick. Without any rush and admiring the desperate moans coming from the man on his back, you began to stroke up his thighs, over his crotch and pausing over his zipper.

Undoing it slowly, you waited to see if Sirius was even aware of what you were doing as he was so distracted with James and  Remus. However, with the sudden lift of his hips to help you pull the material down his hips, you knew he was very much aware of your intentions.

Freeing his cock from the restraint of his trousers and boxers, you watched as Sirius lowered his hips back onto the bed, and his member now throbbed on his abdomen, thick and hard. A pearly drip of precum had already formed at the tip, and you were quick to hold the base, lifting the cock until your lips were wrapped around him.

Your movements continue to be gentle and soft. Licking and sucking without any rush to build the tension and hopefully show how much you worship the ground he walks on by paying particular attention to him when he needs it most. James continues to tweak his nipples, and Remus devours his mouth, absorbing every little moan until Sirius needs to pull back to suck in air.

“Fuck, you’re all- Fuck!” Remus distracts him with his mouth once more, dominating him entirely and causing more whimpers to burst from his chest. The veiny length that was being leisurely sucked in your mouth began to harden further, throbbing as you knew he was approaching closer to his orgasm as your hands fondled his balls.

“So good for us, aren’t you, Sirius? Say it, tell us you’re ours”, James demands, pulling on the back of Remus’ hair so that Sirius can tell the group how he is feeling.

“Yes! I’m yours, I’m all of yours! I’m cumming, holy shit!” he shouts out desperately, face scrunching up like he is in pain but is actually experiencing the opposite as overwhelming pleasure pooled in his abdomen.

You moan around his cock, causing it to vibrate slightly against your tongue as his hot seed begins to coat your throat. You swallow every salty, thick liquid drop until you’re popping off and looking up at his half-lidded, satisfied grin.

James and Remus give you room to crawl up his body to kiss him sweetly. The three of you watch and admire as he comes down from the high, carefully tucking his half-hard cock back into his trousers and doing up the zipper once more.

“Thank Merlin that we have no classes this afternoon”, Sirius jokes as he rests back on the pillows with his arm behind his head. You laugh and collapse onto his chest, hugging him closely as the four of you sit in comfortable silence. You listened to the thump of his heart beneath your ear, but after a while, it increased in speed as he became restless.

“Can I tell you all a secret? I’ve um… I’ve kept all of the threatening letters they’ve sent to me, " Sirius admits as he carefully pulls out of the hug to climb out of bed and dig his way through the suitcase with his name on the side. From within, he pulls out a large stack of letters that are all opened and in the same shade of emerald as the one earlier this morning.

“You kept them all? Oh, Sirius”, you say in shock, only guessing what horrible, hateful words are written on those pieces of paper.

Sirius awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed, “Yeah. I don’t know why. Some weird part of me thought that if I burned them all, they would know and come to the school or something. But, I want to get rid of them if you’ll all help me?”

Neither of you have to answer as you climb out of the bed. After dressing appropriately, the four of you walked down to the lake, where Remus carved a hole into the soil. Sirius chucks the letters within as you all form a semi-circle.

Holding onto his left hand, Sirius raised his wand to the right, pointing it towards the letters and shouting ‘Incendio’. The four of you stand together as the letters burn. Sirius sighs shakily as he holds back tears. “It’s weird. I know people say it’s like a weight off your shoulders, but it genuinely does feel like that”.

“That’s because you’re free, Padfoot!” James shouts enthusiastically, grabbing the boy around the waist and lifting him into the air, hollering and whooping until Sirius laughs. The two crash to the ground as Remus throws his arm around your shoulders, watching the pair finally have some fun today as the smoke billows into the air surrounding you, the ash from those horrible words written on the paper disappearing across the Scottish mountains.

[kivino]

GENTLE || ROOMMATE!SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY x READER

my cod masterlist || my jjk masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word count – 1.8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, SFW, Simon and reader are roommates, reader has longer hair, reader is a hot mess, idiots in love, mutual pining, hair-braiding.

Summary -  You’ve been having a rough week, but your roommate Simon is there to help you through it.

A/n – still working on two cod requests in my inbox, so here’s a little piece I started a while ago! I’ve not been having a good time myself, so it’s sort of…a let out for my feelings. I hope you guys like it, and remember to like, reblog and follow, please and thank you <3

The whole week have been fucking you up really good. Nothing seemed to be going according to your plans and it felt like the universe was constantly conspiring against you. Of course, at the start it was the small things – bad weather, occasional tripping and falling here and there, alarm not going off in time, but those small things started to build up and now you were on edge more than you would’ve liked to admit. It felt like you were about to break down the moment another minor inconvenience will make your day worse. Thankfully, weekend was ahead and in the evening your friend will be coming over to your flat for a little hangout that you had to schedule several weeks in advance because how busy both of you were. You had hoped that at least today wouldn’t be as bad as the rest of the week so you could get at least a short break from the misfortune that seemed to like following you these days.

However, the reality of the situation wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for. The day was going well, but on your way back to your flat some random driver decided that your outfit lacked a unique touch, which was why your coat and boots were all covered in dirty rain water and you were seconds away from having a mental breakdown right on the street. But at least you were almost home, so you’ll change out of the damp, dirty clothes pretty soon. A sudden worried thought formed in your head and you immediately started rummaging through your bag in attempts to find your keys. Only to come up with nothing. Left in another bag.

Well, that was the last straw. You feel your whole body start to shake, as you stomp towards your flat, hoping your roommate is not out and about, even though he rarely is. It felt like your already frayed nerves started straight up melting, overloaded and done with keeping it together this whole time. Everything was too much, and you had too little patience to deal with it. You could feel the pain shoot right through the joints of your finger as you pressed on the doorbell, holding it in place, as if urging your roommate on with noise will help him open the door faster.

Soon enough, the mountain of a man that your roommate is, opens your door. You see a hint of confusion on Simon’s face from the fact that you were relentlessly assaulting the doorbell instead of opening the door with your own keys, but he doesn’t say anything.

You push through him, angrily throw your dirty coat on the floor and toss the boots in the direction of the shoe rack, not even bothering putting them away, before you storm into the living room and collapse on the couch with an exasperated, spent sigh. Solace, at last. You barely hear the footsteps of Simon following you.

The flat looks clean, no doubt Simon decided to help while you were out and about, so that means you only have to make yourself look presentable. But you couldn’t even get up from the couch to freshen up, exhaustion overtaking you completely. You let out a heavy sigh as your head hits the pillows, seeking nothing but some sleep after a whole day of running errands that seemed to have no end to them.

“Are your feeling alright?” You hear a low, quiet voice of your roommate and open one of your eyes to look at him. You obviously weren’t alright and he was an unwilling witness to the past week of you getting your ass kicked by events that were out of your control. Simon tactfully decided not to comment on it though, occasionally checking in on you and trying to make it easier by helping out here and there. He wasn’t the talkative type, preferring to speak through his actions, and you respected that. You could say you grew on each other after all this time of living together, but it always felt like there was something…unspoken between you. Some line him and you were not ready (or rather afraid?) to cross.

“I’m…no, Simon. Not really. I’m not.” You let out a heavy sigh, which makes the weight on your shoulders feel almost crushing. If your eyes weren’t closed right now, you’d see him nodding thoughtfully to the sound of your voice, catching every word.  

“Want me to help?”

“You really don’t have to…” You didn’t want to burden your roommate with your feelings, worries and sour mood. Simon never actually told you what he did for work specifically, but the fact that he’d disappear leaving only some utility money and a note, saying to call him in case of an emergency, just to return with a duffel bag and lack of any light in his eyes several months later was enough to add two and two together. This mountain of a man most likely had more than enough on his plate already, and a nagging voice in the back of your head “helpfully” suggested that he probably considered your very visible distress childish or ignorant, when he probably saw things that your nightmares would never even remotely replicate.

“It’s a yes or no question.” Simon’s tone was firm, but living with him for some time taught you it wasn’t him trying to intimidate you into agreeing. This gruff behavior was just how he was and he wasn’t going out of his way to be threatening.  

“Yes.” You croak after a pregnant pause. That was all Simon needed to get to business, circling the flat with swift, but quiet steps, as he started to put away your things, watching over you from the corner of his eye. A few minutes passed and he approached you once again, still curled into yourself on the couch. You feel him gently shake you by the shoulder, trying to get your attention and pull you out of your sleepy daze. For a guy this big he sure has quite a light hand, huh?

“Sit up for me.”  He murmurs close to you. You try to sit up straight but your muscles betray you soon after, making you slump to the side, putting your weight on the couch cushions that felt softer than silk at the moment. Simon didn’t seem to mind that, you feel the couch cushions dip under his weight right behind you. Despite the sleepiness, you hear almost every shift of fabric behind you and when you feel Simon’s fingers delicately brush against your hair you let out a soft sigh.

He’s gentle. Almost painfully so. Every stroke of his hands echoes not only in your wary head or tense shoulders, but in every cell of your body. Mild, but not in an underwhelming, disappointing way, reminding you of benign salt-filled waves licking up the sand from the sea shore.

You feel his fingers separate your hair in three parts methodically, every movement deliberately slow, gradually melting away at the solid tension locked inside your body, condensed within every muscle fiber and solidified into your sapped, utterly drained form. You wanted to say something, let Simon know at least in some way that you appreciated what he was doing for you, when there were so many things he could be doing, instead of taking care of his worn-out roommate.

His feather-light touches had your mind traveling somewhere you knew it was not supposed to. If Simon was willing to go to such lengths to comfort you, then what would he do if the two of you were more than just…cohabitants? The word didn’t feel right in your mind, unmistakably not doing justice to the strong, intimate bond that you shared without ever having to utter a word to have the feeling of a mutual understanding settle over the both of you.

 “It’s alright, love. Everything’s going to be fine.” Simon’s voice is quiet and low, you can only compare it to the rumble of thunder, comforting in its rich sound with a barely discernable hum to it. Your chest feels much lighter with every second spent like that, beside him, taking care of you in such a small, but at the same time important way.

You could feel the warmth he was radiating, even through layers of clothes and exhaustion-induced haze slowly clouding your consciousness. Strange. Despite how cold and distant he seemed when you first met him, he turned out to be quite the opposite of what you expected him to be. Light touches of his fingers, warm and calloused (why are they so scarred? You didn’t see him without his clothes often, but when you did, admittedly, on accident, his body was littered with scars, resembling a map of a starry sky), lifted the weight off your shoulders with such ease, for a moment you considered him to be a wizard of some sorts. Well, he did have the weirdness for it, for sure. You dismissed the thought with a smile dancing on your lips. How childish. Simon is making you childish.

You catch your thoughts before you melt into a puddle at the mere thought of getting to know the man sitting right behind you closer. Him braiding your hair so tenderly and softly, like you were the most precious thing on Earth was enough…for now. It will satiate your affection-starved mind for many more months, you were sure of that. Until then, you will enjoy his presence from a distance… You feel Simon’s fingers finally get to the end of the braid, tying it together with a hair tie you didn’t even know where he took from.

“There you go. Better?” His voice is deep and soft, like he’s afraid to disturb the frail peace he managed to bring you. A thought dawns on you. Simon was intentionally braiding your hair very slowly.

Cheesy idiot.

“Better…”

You sit there, losing count to the minutes that have passed with you basking in each other’s presence, in the aftermath of this close, very personal moment. For the nth time you feel the urge to say something, break the silence with your voice and show Simon your earnest appreciation for his presence, his solace and everything he did for you. Your lips crack open for a moment, your head still lowered, eyes trained on your palms, nervously fidgeting fingers and your leg, slightly bouncing in one place from the tension. A couple of seconds passes and you find yourself unable to break this fragile, precious silence, when Simon’s palm finds its way back on your shoulder, blazing fire of his person drawing you in even deeper into the utmost infatuation with him.

You suck in a puff of air you didn’t know you needed. Maybe, next time. Next time you’ll tell him. Right.

check out this masterlist for more cod fics or send me a request/comment!

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[emchante]

🎶 people watching - conan gray with any driver of your liking

people watching | m. verstappen

DIII i actually loved this rq, because i had never heard this song before now!! i thought this fitted max for some reason, i hope you like it<3

max verstappen x fem!reader

no warnings, a little sad but not fully angsty, ends on a happier note.

the café was bustling, a mess of clinking cups and muted laughter, but all you could focus on was the couple at the corner table. the way their hands tangled across the table, fingers brushing, heads tilted close as if they were sharing secrets no one else could hear.

“are you even listening?” max’s voice pulled you back to reality, sharp yet quiet but evidently tinged with annoyance. you felt a pang in your chest, max was the last person you wanted to upset.

you blinked, startled, meeting his piercing blue eyes from across the table. he was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but tight. you could usually read max like a book, he was your closest friend after all. but now? you couldn’t.

“sorry,” you muttered, wrapping your hands around the steaming mug in front of you as you watched it closely, as if were the most interesting thing around. you couldn’t meet his eyes any longer. “got distracted.”

his gaze flicked to where yours had been moments before. the couple. he huffed, shaking his head as he took a sip from his own cup. “you do that a lot, you know,” he told you, watching your confused reaction over his mug.

“do what?” “watch other people.. people watching. it’s like you’d rather live through them than actually be here.”

the words hit harder than they should have, lodging somewhere deep in your chest. you opened your mouth to respond, to deny it, but the truth was sharper than your defence. 

“i don’t—” you hesitated, exhaling slowly. “i don’t know how to do what they’re doing,” you admit quietly, and you wondered if max could even hear you over the loud chatter from everyone around.

max’s brows furrowed, his usual confident, rough exterior replaced by something softer. he wasn’t max verstappen right now, just max. “what do you mean?”

you tilted your head toward the couple, feeling foolish under his scrutiny. “that. being so open. trusting someone enough to just.. let them in like that.”

his silence was deafening, the weight of it pressing down on you. you hated feeling exposed, vulnerable and suddenly the walls felt like they were moving closer, trapping you in, and the only way to stay alive was to keep going.

“i’ve always been better at watching. it’s like.. safer, you know? i can’t mess up if i don’t try, that’s the way i look at it.”

max leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. his voice was low when he spoke, steady and sure in a way that made your stomach flip, something that only started happening recently when you were with him. “but of course, that is not living. you know that, right?”

you met his gaze, a lump forming in your throat. “maybe it’s all i know how to do.”

he sighed, his hand reaching across the table, stopping just short of yours. “do you think i’ve got it all figured out? that i don’t mess things up?”

you glanced at his outstretched hand but didn’t dare move to take it. “you don’t seem afraid. your max verstappen, you’re anything but afraid. everyone knows that”

his lips quirked into a faint, almost bitter smile. “i am afraid, terrified even. of screwing up, of losing people, of letting someone in just for them to leave. but i do it anyway.”

the words lingered between you, heavier than the noise of the café. you could feel the intensity of his gaze, daring you to meet it, to take the leap he was offering.

“i don’t want to be something you watch,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the room. but suddenly, everyone else wasn’t there. there was no chatter, no hums of the coffee machine, no chings from the cash register. just you two. “i want to be someone you trust.”

the air between you crackled, charged with the weight of what wasn’t being said. slowly, hesitantly, you reached across the table, your fingers brushing his.

it wasn’t much, but it was a start.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Mockingjay - Part 11

Hi guys!

I'm so sorry for the delay, but between my health and all the work I have to do for my job, I almost don't know what day we are.

I'm glad for all the sweets messages and the love and supports I get for this serie though, it really means a lot ♥

There is a little bit of suspense here, I'll try not to make you wait as long as this time for the next chapter.

Please enjoy ♥

TW : Fight, injury, scorpions, death, gun, gunshot, angst.

Chapter Before

“I’m so sorry”

“Lucy, stop” Ona sighs softly.

Lucy doesn’t answer anything, she just bites her bottom lip to stay silent. But she can’t help but look at Ona’s arm and the bruise forming on it. Even if it was to save her life, she had to hit her hard enough to at least hurt the scorpion who was casually strolling in her arm.

So, Lucy just basically saved Ona’s life, but the older girl can’t get over the fact that she hit Ona. And hurt her in the process.

They are currently sitting on a blanket, Lucy scanning the ground around them with the pocket lamp to see if there are more scorpions and eventually make them leave thanks to the light.

They are sitting back to back, just to have a better view around them. Because they shouldn’t look for the scorpions only, but for the other tributes maybe too. They don’t know where Tony went and where everyone else is. Being attacked right now could be the worst fight ever.

Ona is jumping in the air from time to time, sure that she felt one of those animals running on her body. She was wrong every time and Lucy almost had a heart attack every time too.

“Are you sleeping?” Lucy asks after a moment.

“No” Ona mumbles.

She’s tired, she must admit that. But there is no world where she falls asleep and puts them both in danger right now. It’s hard to imagine how my time passed since the night fell some hours before. Ona really hopes that it will be finished soon.

Ona changes her position when she feels Lucy’s hand reach for hers, unrolling her arms that she had wrapped around her legs glued to her chest. She gladly let Lucy play with her fingers, enjoying this little closeness even here.

Ona can’t explain why, maybe because of how tired she is, but once again their reality hit her like a wall of bricks. She feels her throat tightens at the idea that they will never be able to have this kind of moment on a lovely date, for example. She doesn’t say anything though, not wanting to make Lucy sad or even alert her.

But Lucy learned to know her, and she quickly hears Ona’s unsteady breathings, even if she can’t see her silent tears.

“What’s up?” Lucy asks softly.

“Nothing” Ona breathes. “It’s stupid”

“If it makes you upset, it’s not stupid” Lucy answers, turning herself a little to have a better view of Ona. “Are you mad at me?”

Ona shakes her head no, still looking around just in case. She doesn’t want Lucy to see her cry. She doesn’t want to pass for someone weak. And more, she doesn’t want Lucy to find her childish.

“Hey, what’s up?” Lucy asks softly.

“I just…”

Ona frowns softly, not really knowing how to say the right things. She has all those fears about Lucy’s eventual judgement and how she can see her after that. Which is particularly stupid, Lucy would never judge Ona in any way.

“I would give everything to just have one night together, only the two of us. Without the Games, the injuries… Just you and me.”

“Ona…”

Ona hurries to take her hand back, whipping her tears and sitting a little straighter. She knows they won’t have it and that it’s stupid to cry for something they will never have.

“I told you, it was stupid” Ona shrugs.

Her back is perfectly turned so she doesn’t see Lucy. But like this, she doesn’t see the sadness and the regrets in Lucy’s eyes.

“I wish I could share these moments with you too” Lucy finally whispers.

Ona feels her throat tightens once again, but not for the same reason. She doesn’t really know if she feels better now that she knows that Lucy feels the same way. Is it worse because it supports the fact that they won’t have it? Or is it better because Lucy can understand how she’s feeling?

“What kind of things would we have done?” Ona finally asks.

“For our first date, I would have brought you on my boat to watch the sunset.”

“Sounds very romantic” Ona smirks.

Lucy hums and Ona hears her moving a little before kissing her neck. It makes Ona shiver, of course, but she smiles anyway, not expecting for Lucy to talk again.

“I don’t know if that’s any consolation, but I’m yours. No matter what happens, I will always be. Only yours.”

This time, Ona turns around completely to have an entire look at Lucy. The older girl is already looking at her, her green eyes scanning the brown one’s. Getting on her knees rather than her ass, before taking Lucy’s face between both of her hands to kiss her.

The kiss is slow but full of love and Ona can’t help but let her mind fly away, to the moment they shared together on that mountain. They had a moment only the both of them finally, only accompanied by the fire.

Lucy answers her kiss, and they are finally stopped when they feel the first light and heath of the sun on their skin. Lucy sighs from relief and looks around them. It could be hard to find their way back, everything looks the same around. But Lucy understands easily with the way Ona gets up that the younger one knows perfectly where to go.

“Are we going back to the centre of the arena or do you want to look for the oasis?” Ona asks, seeming to be happy again.

“We can look for the oasis until noon. Then we can go back to the forest if we don’t find anything.”

Ona nods and accepts the dry meat that Lucy gives her before starting to walk. She still feels tired, but she knows that they must move. She doesn’t know if someone already came here before them, the sand is the same everywhere. Including in their shoes.

“Is it a palm tree?”

They were walking for almost thirty minutes when Lucy talks again, and Ona raises her head in the direction of where Lucy is pointing.

“I think it is” Ona nods after several seconds. “Let’s go.”

They turn in the right direction, Ona two steps in front of Lucy. The latter is particularly attentive to everything, the fact that the two other girls might still be here hiding in her mind. When they are close, she softly grabs Ona’s hand to whisper it.

“Maybe they are here. Let’s be careful”

Ona nods again and squeezes Lucy’s fingers before letting her go. She can feel Lucy’s presence right behind her and it helps her to be more at ease. She feels safe with Lucy and little did she know that Lucy feels safe with her too. After all, they saved each other's lives already.

The oasis isn’t very big, but Ona must admit that it’s cute. There are a few palm trees around a very small lake. But the water is clear like a mirror, almost inviting. Rocks are around the water, as if someone had arranged seats to be able to settle comfortably in front of it.

“Someone came here” Ona whispers.

She’s looking at the rocks, but her gaze is scanning the other places of the area. Now that Lucy is looking around too, she feels the same way too. There are dates on the ground, some of them eaten and she can see footprints at some places too.

Lucy hums, turning around to look around them.

“Let’s just be careful, Love, yeah?”

Ona nods and smiles, unable to hide the butterflies she feels in her stomach when Lucy calls her like that. She takes the bow in one of her hands, just in case, when Lucy decides to make a walk around the lake “Just to have a look.”

Ona should have known it was a bad idea, every time they are separated something bad happens.

Just when Ona can’t see Lucy anymore, she feels something icy against her neck.

“Make any sound and you're dead. Do you understand?”

Ona feels her blood freeze, but she only nods softly. She doesn’t know what is held against her neck, but if it’s a knife, she doesn’t want to take any risks.

“Let go of your bow” the voice says.

Ona doesn’t hesitate before letting it go. She just hopes that Lucy will come back soon to help her. She feels stupid, Lucy just told her to be careful.

“Good. Do you know how to get out of this desert?”

Ona nods once again. She tries to recognize the voice of the person talking, but she didn’t talk a lot to those two girls. She’s unable to say which one of them is behind her.

“Show the way. Don’t turn around.”

Of course, Ona wants to turn around or even look for Lucy, but she can’t. So, she obliges and starts to walk, taking the way back she took several minutes. She can feel that icy things brush against her neck from time to time, attesting of its presence.

They were walking for several minutes when the girl talks again. Ona was walking as slow as possible, still hoping that Lucy will see them.

“Are you okay?”

Ona frowns, not understanding why the girl is asking her that question. She doesn’t understand either the soft tone used to ask this question, until she hears the girl talking again.

“Stop, Batlle.”

Then Ona turns around and realise that they were two people walking behind her. But the second girl doesn’t look good.

“What happened to her?” Ona whispers.

The first girl, Enya as Ona just remembered her name, shot her a dirty look. She raises what she had in her hand and Ona blenches when she sees that Enya is in fact holding nothing much than a gun.

“Hands up!”

Ona obliges once again, raising both of her hands without hesitation. She looks at the way Enya is looking at her partner, looking hopeless. The other girl has various purple patches all over the body, some swollen and appearing painful.

“She got bitten by scorpions” Enya groans.

Ona shivers, remembering that she had one of them in her arm last night. The second girl doesn’t seem able to talk and Ona wonders if she really can understand what is happening. She seems lost, looking at Ona blankly.

“You… You know that she won’t make it, right?” Ona says as softly as she can.

She feels sorry for that poor girl. But Enya seems angry by that statement and point her gun at the middle of Ona’s forehead.

“Shut up if you don’t want to die right now”

Ona raises her hands again, not moving anymore. She doesn’t know what sign Enya is waiting for, but she seems to be happy, so she kneels down next to the other girl lying on the ground.

Ona’s mind wanders to Lucy, who must be lost about not finding her anywhere now. Ona hopes that she won’t do something stupid, they keep reminding each other that as long as they haven’t heard the canon, there is nothing to worry about. Ona just hopes that they won’t be separated for long. Unless Enya really decides to kill her soon, which might be problematic in that case.

“Where did you find a gun?” Ona asks.

Enya looks up to look at her, seeming to think before answering. But the question is on Ona’s mind, she’s scared that Tony or Camden have found guns too. If that’s the case, winning will be difficult.

“I’ve received it from the sponsor.”

Ona arches her two eyebrows under surprise. She received pretty great things too, but nothing like that. Enya must have someone who likes her very much outside.

“Help me carry Leane. If your girlfriend sees us, she will come, and I’ll be forced to shoot her. You don’t want that, do you?”

Ona contracts her jaw at Lucy’s mention. Of course, she doesn’t want something like that. However, Ona wonders for several seconds how Enya knows about her and Lucy’s relationship. But she doesn’t have to think a lot, because Enya is pointing her gun at her face once again and she hurries to help.

They walk like this for what feels like forever, one arm around each other. Ona doesn’t know if it’s because she’s walking for a very long time, but Leane seems heavier every single second.

“Come on Leane, we are almost here” Enya repeats every two minutes.

Ona doesn’t say anything, she’s thinking a lot. She’s thinking about the chances she would have against Enya. Leane can’t fight that’s for sure and Enya seems very weak. But she has a gun, and a single shoot will be enough to kill her.

An energy boost takes Enya when they are able to see the end of the desert, the girl almost jumping until it. But Ona just has to take a look at Leane to know that things are very bad.

“I think she’s dying” Ona says slowly.

It takes Enya’s attention, and the girl looks at Leane with stupor.

“No no no no no” Enya says, laying Leane on the floor. “Not now, we are just getting out of the desert!”

The girls take Leane’s face between her hands, looking at Leane’s face. Ona feels like the girl is looking for any sign of life, which is particularly awful in her opinion. Ona jumps when Enya points the gun once again in her direction.

“Is she alive?”

Ona hesitates, looking at Leane’s frame on the sand. Poor girl seems gone, but no cannon is audible.

“Look at it!”

Enya seems to lose the little control of herself she was keeping until now. She’s making big movements with her hands, pointing Ona, then Leane, then Ona again. All of this while walking around.  

Ona kneels next to Leane, putting her finger on her neck to search for her heart rate.

“She’s alive” Ona mumbles.

She doesn’t add “for now” but she almost can’t feel anything against her fingers. It seems to calm Enya a little bit. At least she stops walking around like a crazy maniac.

“Good. Because if she dies, it’s because of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ona asks after several seconds of silence.

“If you came earlier, you could have helped us earlier. We spent days trying to get out of this place. Leane got bitten by a scorpion in the middle of the night while I was asleep. It was so painful that she wasn’t even able to walk to me to wake me up. When I woke up she was surrounded by them, so I had to kill them with the gun.”

Ona bites her lip, looking sadly at Leane. This death must be awful, she would rather die like Teagan. She feels sorry for the other girl but for Enya too. She would probably not react better if it was Lucy in this case.

“Alright, get up. Find us the bridge.”

Enya makes Ona carry Leane on her back this time, walking behind them still with the gun pointed on Ona’s head. The sun is shining brightly now, and Ona feels the sweat running on her body. She feels the weakness in her legs too, Leane is a little bit bigger than her and heavier too.

“Can we take a pause please?” Ona finally asks.

“No”

There is no room for discussion. The brunette sighs softly, trying to ignore the sweat that runs down her face. Ona manages to walk ten more minutes before feeling her legs really getting tired.

“Enya” Ona whispers.

“I said, shut up and walk.”

Ona tries. As hard as she can, but soon her legs give up and she feels on her knee. The sand is burning against her skin, but that’s probably not the most important point. Ona feels the gun against her temple, making her close her eyes.

“Get up.”

“I can’t” Ona whispers, out of breath.

Her whole body is shaking, she has trouble breathing normally, and her head is spinning. Even opening her eyes seems hard for her right now.

“You leave me no choice”

Ona hears the weapon making a click and she closes her eyes harder, waiting for the blast. But contrary to what she expected, she feels Enya falling next to her and then rolling in the sand.

Ona manages to make Leane go down on her back, kneeling to see what is happening. Enya is fighting with someone that Ona recognizes immediately. Lucy is here, saving her once again.

“She has a gun” Ona shouts.

She doesn’t know if Lucy saw them, if she was following them for many times or if it’s just a miracle for her to be her.

Enya is fighting harder than Ona would have thought, the metal of the gun shining under the sun from time to time.

When Ona finally manages to stand up, the two other girls are fighting almost hundred meters further. Ignoring her feet who are killing her, Ona tries to run to help Lucy. She regrets not having her bow.

Just when she arrives at their height, a sound of gunfire resounds in the air. Ona freezes instantly, her eyes crossing Lucy’s gaze.

Lucy’s beautiful green eyes are wide under the surprise. Ona has always loved this shape of green. But right now, what she can see in them is terrifying her.

“Lucy!”

The younger girl screams this time, looking as Lucy’s body falls on the ground, only three meters away from her.

Next Chapter

[writerastray]

It's always on the tip of my tongue { affection part 2 }

General Masterlist - Read this before interacting

Disclaimer:

⚠︎ My works are all protected. I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting. Please reblog if you want to share my work.

⚠︎ My work is only appropriate for adults over the age of 18. Ageless/blank blogs will be blocked.

-> Word count: 7.6k

-> Relationships: Lee Minho/afab!Reader

-> Rating: 18+ → Mature/Explicit

->Genre/Tropes: Romance, Sexual Tension, Smut. Other Additional Tags to Be Added. (Spoiler tags: Something more than friends to Lovers?)

-> Warning tags: Alcohol Consumption. Explicit Sexual Content. Other Additional Tags to Be Added.

-> Synopsis: Part 2 of Affection. As you try to move on from Felix and figure out where your relationship with Minho stands, his past resurfaces, challenging the feelings between the two of you.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The sun was rising, casting a warm glow on the room as dawn approached. Another night spent trying to forget Felix, finding solace in Minho's arms.

It was easy to forget with him around—his arms encircling your waist, feeling his heart beating, lips grazing your neck, and fingers near your breasts, legs intertwined. Everything felt momentarily easier.

Reality would hit when the day began, and your fantasy would shatter. Then you would need to go back to your dorm; then, your heart would yearn for another. 

He kissed your neck, a low grunt escaping him, saying nothing, just staying.

You waited, delaying the inevitable. And it came. 

"Y/n," he murmured, his hands gently guiding you to face him, his sleepy gaze meeting yours. 

"Minho."

He kissed the top of your head, nose, cheeks, and your lips. 

"Five more minutes?" You asked. 

With a nod, Minho rose. You remained, reluctant to face the day just yet.

You hoped things would change, but it got more confusing. You still thought of Felix, but now Minho occupied your mind everywhere—in the coffee shop, in the stray cats, in the sweet brown of your coffee that reminds you of his eyes, in the soft blanket you use to sleep, that's never as cozy and warm as being in his arms, or the sunrise, where you are the most happy in his bed.

As time passed, Felix was slowly being erased, and instead of relief, it became painful. You didn't want the feelings to vanish; it made you anxious. 

You wondered how Minho felt over this. He knew you. He knew you, on some rare nights, still cried over Felix. And, he also knew you looked at him wanting something more than friendship.

Was he going through the same turmoil? Did he think of someone else while his hands caressed your waist? Did his dreams betray his unspoken desires, just as yours did? Did he want to be with them, or were you erasing their marks on his heart just like he's doing with yours?

The scent of brewing coffee drew you to the kitchen. Minho prepared breakfast. 

You noticed the red marks from your nails adorning his nape. What if one day Minho decided to end this? 

The question lingered as you stood by the counter.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“You.”

He snorted. "Then go back to bed."

You chuckled. Both of you knew that wasn’t happening. 

Walking over, you poured a cup of coffee and gestured toward the bread and cheese. While he prepared a sandwich, you briefly ran your fingers through his hair before returning to your coffee. 

Was it a gesture of affection, an inability to keep your hands to yourself, or a passionate expression of your feelings? You didn't know, and you didn't want to think about it.

He closed the press and turned to face you, both of you on opposite sides of the kitchen. Secretly, you wished you could read his mind, to know what thoughts crossed his mind when he looked at you, when his eyes lingered on your lips or your exposed legs. 

His gaze on you made your heart flutter. The brown hues of his eyes lighter with the sunlight streaming through the window. He became ethereal in the early mornings. 

If you were a little braver, you'd take two steps and press a kiss to his lips for no reason other than to feel him. 

But crossing that line wasn't something you were ready to do.

"Should we tell them?" Minho asked.

"Do you want to?" You tried to buy yourself some time to answer.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

You remained silent. It wasn’t that you didn’t want your friends to know about you and Minho, but were either of you ready to move on?

He turned to place the bread on a plate, the smell of toasted cheese making you salivate. He came over to you, placing both plates on the counter. 

As you were about to sit, his arms held you in place. One hand firm on your hips, the other against the counter, blocking your way. His eyes bore into yours, knowing your fears, holding your heart in his hands.

"I'm not asking for us to be serious right away. I'm no fool." His face came close to yours, his hands moving up to cup your cheeks. "But I'd like them to know you're mine every night."

A fluttering arousal took over you. 

You never imagined it would go this far after that night you kissed Minho. Yet, the past held both of you back, muting the thunderous passion that could have reverberated in your souls

His other hand moved to yours, fingers circling your wrist, and your heart squeezed. 

"I'd like that," you said, ignoring the unease in your heart. 

A smile was hidden in his beautiful lips. "Over dinner?"  

"Maybe this Sunday. They will be home."

Your eyes locked, and he stayed silent for a moment before kissing you, a chaste, gentle kiss that took a bit longer than usual to pull away from.

As you ate, Minho discussed the food options, and you convinced him to cook something, promising to help. 

He eyed you. "We both know your help is moral support and gossip over wine." 

You laughed and changed the conversation to the next holiday. You planned to be home while Felix would be at Hyunjin’s; Minho wanted to go camping.

After helping with the dishes, you changed into fresh clothes, played with his cats, and as the morning passed, you found yourself lingering in his apartment, not quite ready to leave yet. But you needed to, unfortunately. 

"Text me when you're home?" he said, hands on your waist, lips on your temple. His scent lingered, his hair damp from the shower.

Your lips met his in a soft, perfect embrace, and you hummed with pleasure. His tongue swept into your mouth, and everything else faded away. The only thing that mattered was his taste—mint; his low moan when you deepen the kiss, his hand on your back pressing you into him; your hands finding their place on his hair. 

When you finally pulled away, time seemed to rush back, and the weight of reality settled upon you as you stepped out of his apartment.

The spring was at its highest, painting the streets with vibrant flowers, the morning growing warmer. You abandoned the idea of a blueberry muffin once you saw the long line at the café.

It was Saturday, and Felix wouldn't be home – a habit now, as he spent the day with Hyunjin’s apartment, leaving you with the day to yourself. 

You cleaned your room, did some chores around the house, and went to the supermarket—you now buy some treats for Minho's cat. It's a habit. 

Once you got back, you’d read, watch a movie – though not the ones Felix suggested – choosing instead those you had shared with Minho. 

At 9 p.m, you'd get bored and text him. He would appear at your door, and on your way to his house, Minho would ask, "Coffee?" You always agreed. 

At his home, it would not take long for the mood to change from a simple night with your friend to something more. 

It would start with subtle changes in Minho's body language—the eye contact more intense, his voice lowered, the gentle touches on your ankles, wrist, and earlobe. 

But it would be you who’d give in first; searching for the kiss, begging for his cock inside you, his lips to eat you out clean. He would indulge every desire as if he hadn't started the whole game. 

And so, another night of kissing, loving, fucking, to a morning of failed attempt of forgetting, would repeat.

It's a habit, and you don't know how to break from it, how to unlearn, how to start anew.

You sat in the coffee shop, the bustling crowd finally thinning out to enjoy the night spring breeze at the outside tables. The smell of brewing coffee made the sweetness of the cappuccino delightful in your mouth.

“Have you heard Hyunjin is going to work here?” Minho said, finishing the last bite of cake. 

"Free muffins, then?" 

Minho tilted back his head to laugh, and you followed. 

He gave you the look, the one where he narrowed his eyes in a playful gaze with a little smirk. You're thankful he doesn’t know what it does to you.

“Is this his redemption arc?” He teased.

You lightly kicked him under the table, and he chuckled. 

“You’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head, and then returned to your drink.

It was still hard to see Hyunjin with Felix, and for a while, you resented him. But Hyunjin was Hyunjin; he was a lovely person, making it easy to warm your heart to him again. 

As you were about to ask if Hyunjin planned on moving closer to their neighborhood, you noticed Minho’s gaze fixed outside, lost in thought. Then, his demeanor shifted from relaxed to tense, jaw set, and eyebrows frowned.

"What's wrong?" 

His chest rose and fell rapidly, and then his eyes were wide open. He looked like he was going to get sick, but his eyes were still locked on something behind you. 

You finally turned, following his gaze, and understood. 

Han Jisung—the guy Minho liked—was across the street, kissing a girl so softly, so lovingly that you felt your lips tingle. Then they disentangled briefly just to smile at each other.

You looked back at Minho, and before you could think, you rose and pulled him up.

“Come on.” 

He turned to look at you, but before he could say anything, you were out in the streets, walking far away from the couple, far away from the thorns that squeezed his heart. Because you knew the feeling all too well. You knew the ache of unrequited love all too well.

He looked as if breathing was impossible once you stopped in front of his building, his eyes frenetic, as if he was trying to make sense of the situation. He took a deep breath, setting his jaw. Minho seemed lost and overwhelmed. 

You waited patiently until he looked at you, then his eyes softened, his shoulders relaxed, and he gently came closer to you.

"Sorry, I—I'm sorry," he finally uttered.

You had never seen Minho this sad. It felt like you were witnessing something forbidden.

"It's okay," you reassured him and took him to his apartment in silence.

The sun began to set as you opened your eyes. Minho's gaze met yours—slightly red, puffy, tired. 

"Have you been awake for long?" You ask.

He hummed a yes and drew you close to his chest. His heartbeat pulsed against your back as he traced circles on your waist, sending shivers through your body. 

It marked your second nap of the day, now in the living room.

He kissed you chastely on the lips, the softness leaving you yearning for more. 

Amidst the gentle light, you admired the way it played on Minho's features – his lips, his eyes, his nose, his hair. You wondered what else you were growing to love.

Minho told you once about Jisung, the guy who he never had the courage to confess to. The guy who he loved wholeheartedly, his once best friend who knew him better than anyone. 

"I fell for him but couldn't find the words. Until one day, I couldn't contain it anymore, and I ran. It became too much."

He told you it was the last time they spoke, as if their friendship never existed. It all made sense when Minho said to you he knew how you felt—the fear of being honest about your feelings consuming you, he knew it too.

“I thought I got over it by now, but then it was like every emotion back then rushed down, and I didn't know what to do. It felt like I was trapped in the past.”

One of his cats settled on his lap, and he gently caressed them. 

His eyes met yours, filled with a silent plea. "It's been too long, and I don't know how to let go. I'm not even sure what I'm holding onto."

You understood the feeling, and as he held your gaze, he knew you did. You wanted to say you were here for him, that he is a wonderful person and can fall in love again, or that cliché "Time heals broken hearts"; you wanted to assure him you’d be by his side until he forgets the existence of every memory of any past lover. But the words got stuck in your throat, and all you could offer was a hug that both melted into.

"Thank you. I've never been this honest with someone I love," Minho murmured against you. As you met his gaze, he continued, "Until I met you."

Then you froze. 

As much as you wanted him, as much as you wanted to start something new, you knew it wasn't the right time or the right way. Not with both of your hearts still holding on to someone else. 

Or maybe you're just being a coward again, just like you were with Felix, running away instead of admitting your feelings for him.

“Speak your mind,” Minho said, with a small smile and an intense stare, his hands warm on your body, stealing your breath as his fingers drew circles on your waist.

"It's just... a lot to process," you shrugged, holding back what needed to be said. 

His eyes narrowed; he knew you too well. “And?”

You let your head fall back. Felix once said, in a distant summer a long time ago, that the first step is always the hardest. 

You needed to be honest, like Minho was being with you.

“I think we need closure before any feelings are spoken.” 

He took it in slowly, looking everywhere but you, until you heard him softly say, "And if closure takes too long?" 

You didn't have an answer, but for now, you didn’t need one. 

You were saved by the arrival of Hyunjin and Felix, their laughter and the sound of the doorbell, interrupting.

“The boys!” Both of you said. 

“What do we do?” You asked,

He ran his hands through his hair. 

The doorbell rang again. 

You jumped out of his lap.

“Say we forgot?” He said,  heading to the door. 

“Minho!”

"Y/n," he replied, a tight smirk and annoyance in his eyes. 

He opened it, and there they were—Felix and Hyunjin, both smiling, bags in hand. 

They paused, observing Minho's disheveled state, his overshirt the only thing you were wearing. 

Hyunjin smirked, and Felix raised his brows.

"Told you they'd forget. You owe me a meal," Felix said. Hyunjin rolled his eyes, and Minho just shrugged. 

You realized the rollercoaster was far from over.

After changing into fresh clothes, you joined Felix in the kitchen. Minho busied himself preparing sauce while you took charge of washing the salad. 

Felix and Hyunjin hadn't said anything about the two of you, so you just went with the flow. 

You didn't want them to assume Minho and you were serious, yet you also didn't want to keep him a secret. After what happened last night, you weren't sure if he was ready to tell anyone either.

Once dinner was settled, the aroma of food filled the kitchen; and your eyes met Felix's warm gaze. Hyunjin sat by his side with an open bottle of wine.

“So, what do you guys want to tell us?” Hyunjin said.

Glancing at Minho, your heart raced. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into revealing feelings he might not be ready to share. 

"Y/n and I..." he began tentatively, “we…” but before he could say more, you interjected. "We were thinking about plans for the next holiday! Like a small trip.”

Minho's gaze locked onto yours, sending shivers down your spine with his glare.

"A trip?" Hyunjin arched his eyebrow.

Felix turned to you eagerly, "The beach! What do you think, Y/n?"

You returned his smile, nodding in agreement. A beach visit was a summer tradition for Felix and you.

"But it's crowded now," Hyunjin said with a whiny voice that made Felix smile even more.

“We could go home?” Minho said to them, his eyes never leaving yours. Home means his hometown, Jisung's town. Why would he want to go back?

Hyunjin’s face soured even more but Felix's face lit up.

“That would be perfect. And Y/n has never been there,” and looked to meet your eyes. “You're gonna love it.”

It is the town Felix spent his vacations in as a kid.

“There's plenty to do there,” he continued and told you every detail, as if he had never mentioned it before.

Your attention, however, strayed to Minho, and you wonder what his intentions are for going back. Can't he see he’ll end up with a broken heart?

When the dinner was over, Felix asked you if you’d come home. But the hard grip of Hyunjin on Felix's waist made you hesitate.

"Go ahead, I'll catch up."

Felix's brows arched; his eyes wandered over your face before nodding and saying, “See you home, lovely.” 

He kissed your forehead and went with Hyunjin, leaving you struggling to contain your emotions as your breathing became harsh.

You turned to see Minho, who leaned against the wall with crossed arms, staring at you.

"So, are you going to explain why you didn't tell them?" Minho's tone was sharp.

You never admitted it before, but you liked it when his attention was on you completely, watching every single move you made.

"I think you should start first. Your hometown?"

You walked to him, searching for reasons why he wanted to relive memories that might hurt him.

A hint of vulnerability was visible in his eyes. "You wanted closure first, didn't you? That's why you weren't honest about us tonight,” he tilted his head. “Besides, it's time to move on from the past."

"Is that why you want to go back to your hometown? To face your feelings?"

"I'm done running away, and now I've got a reason to confront them," his gaze fixed on yours. The air was thick with tension.

"I don't think it works that way."

Closing the distance, his hand gently lifted your chin. "Then how does it work, dear Y/n?"

The way he said your name made your stomach flutter. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer. The faint scent of perfume wasn't enough to calm your pounding heart.

"I don't know... yet.”

He chuckled, and in that moment, his smile was all that mattered to you.

The cool wind on your face calms your nerves. There was only a green landscape around you on the road. Ignoring the slight pain in your lower back from long hours in the car, you listened as Minho and Felix talked at the front.

The three of you were on your way to Hyunjin's house in the countryside.

Hyunjin went a day before to put things in order, and as Felix had work, he tagged along with you. 

Felix had spoken fondly of this place before – it was where Minho and Hyunjin grew up, creating special memories between them. 

You didn't have this experience as a child; it was only when you met Felix that you felt you had your first true and forever friendship.

It was supposed to make you excited to get to know this part of Felix, but you couldn't stop thinking about Minho and the possibility of him meeting Jisung. 

Ever since that day when Minho saw Jisung, a distance has grown between you two. You wanted to give him space to understand his feelings, but now you find yourself needy for him—for his hands on your body, for his voice, low in the mornings, asking to fuck you just one more time, for the feeling of his lips against yours.

Minho told you this trip was supposed to give him closure. What if he ends up heartbroken? What if he gets hurt? A voice in your head said, but a whisper in your heart lurked. What if he falls in love again? What if he leaves you?

You sighed. This will be a long trip.

Hyunjin's house was huge. It resembled a small castle, with the entryway adorned with a garden full of red flowers and surrounded by tall trees. 

Stepping out of the car, you were greeted by the earthy aroma and floral perfume.

Just like a scene from a fairytale, as soon as Hyunjin laid eyes on Felix, he went to him and kissed him passionately.

You averted your eyes and followed Minho, who was already inside.

The entrance bore delicate artworks, some depicting sunsets, flowers of different colors, beautiful landscapes, and the night sky.

Marble floors lead to a spacious living area adorned with floor-to-ceiling shelves. On the right is a large kitchen, offering glimpses through the window of the garden and a small cottage outside — that Hyunjin once mentioned was his father's wine house. 

There was a corridor that you think led to more rooms. On the opposite side was a living room with plush sofas and a home theater system. Next to it were stairs, and the little you could see of the second floor revealed more towering bookshelves. Hyunjin also told you that his mother has an art studio here.

The main part of the house was the large windows that showed a serene lake at the back and a pier extending from the house to the water's edge.

“Impressive, isn't it?” Minho said beside you. 

But when you looked at him, every bit of the house became insignificant, and only Minho captured your attention. His eyes, seemingly distant, stared at the lake. Bathed in sunlight, he appeared like a secret god among mortals. 

“Indeed.” 

You didn't even notice you were getting closer to him, hands almost touching, until Felix's laugh made you take a step back.

They strolled hand in hand, as if one seamlessly belonged to the other. You truly were a fool not to see it before. You never stood a chance.

“Let's go to the river later?” Minho said, his arms on your shoulders, and his fingers softly grazing your arms. 

Felix's eyes widened with excitement as he grabbed your hand and said, 'Put on a swimsuit.' Your face warmed as his eyes met yours.

“There are two guest rooms at the end of the corridor,” Hyunjin said. 

His eyes briefly landed on your hands before you distanced yourself from Felix. Then, as both of them headed upstairs, you noticed Minho's arms were no longer resting on your shoulder. 

When you searched for him, he was back to looking outside, his gaze soft. What was he thinking? Or better, who was he thinking about? 

Then he looked at you and smirked. “I bet you forgot to bring a swimsuit.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to find the guest rooms, the sound of his laughter behind you easing your heart for the moment. 

And as you reached for the door, you realized he was right. You had indeed forgotten your swimsuit.

The bikini Minho bought for you fits perfectly. You felt your cheeks and neck grow hot as you imagined him knowing the curves of your body so well. 

Once you got out of the bathroom, you gasped as you saw him still on your bed. 

His eyebrows rose, and his hungry gaze traveled your body, meeting your eyes before he broke into a smirk. "Don't you have something to say?" 

"Shouldn't you be the one praising me?"

He got up and approached you. "Maybe I will if you thank me," he said, playfully annoyed.

You rolled your eyes. 

"Thank you," you said flatly, and he chuckled, a sweet and honest little laugh that made your lips turn up.

His hands found the back of your neck, silently asking for permission. 

"Is this your way of complimenting me?" You said, reading his intentions.

"Complimenting? No," he said as his lips brushed your ear, "Worshiping." 

You were already breathless when his lips touched yours.

 He parted your lips with his tongue until your mouth was hot and open for him. His hands drew you closer to him, your already hardened nipples grazing his chest.When you sucked and licked at his lower lip, he deepened the kiss unforgivingly. 

Those kisses, when he devoured you, made you forget your own name. His tongue sliding against yours, the noises of pleasure he made in between kisses—you didn’t want to stop.

He moved his lips, along your jaw, down to your throat, tracing a path with kisses, then his teeth grazing your collarbone before reaching the hollow of your throat—”Y/n?” Felix's voice sounded from the other side of the room.

As a knock on your door interrupted, you gently pushed Minho away.

“Can I come in?”

Minho didn’t say a single word. Your hands were still on his chest when he held your chin. His eyes searched for something you didn't know in yours, and after a moment, he released you.

He nonchalantly walked past Felix toward his room, seemingly unconcerned. Your eyes widened as he went to his room, not caring about what Felix might think.

Then your eyes met Felix, who had an eyebrow arched.

"Did you two fight?" He asked. 

"No, Lix, he was helping me fasten the back of my bikini." 

Felix nodded, handing you sunscreen. "You always forget yours when we go to the beach." You snorted, “Thanks.” 

Felix, however, didn't respond. Instead, he frowned at your swimsuit and asked, "Is it a new one?" 

"Yeah," you smiled, deciding not to mention that Minho had given it to you. 

"It's pretty on you." 

You pushed Felix playfully, ignoring the small skip of heartbeat. “Out. Let me get ready.” 

He giggled, leaving once Hyunjin called him upstairs.

As you placed the sunscreen in your bag, Felix's words lingered in your mind.

Even though they were what you wanted to hear, you couldn't shake the feeling of how different they would be if they came from Minho and how differently you'd feel hearing them.

The towering trees of the forest surrounded the lake. A well-defined trail weaves through the trees, leading the group to the water’s edge.

The lake sparkles beneath the sun, resembling a mirror surrounded by greenery. The water is clear, revealing the sandy bottom. 

You hear  the rustle of leaves, the sweet melody of birds, and the hum of insects. The air is filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming wildflowers and and from time to time, a butterfly gracefully passes by.

A cozy spot nearby, adorned with smooth, sun-warmed stones, offers the perfect place to set up the belongings. 

Felix's arms went over your shoulders, and his smile gave you butterflies. 

You averted your gaze and looked around until you stopped at Minho, who was taking everything in as if every detail was precious.

“That’s a nice spot to set our things,” Felix said, pointing to a spot half covered by the shadow of a tree. 

You followed Felix and helped organize the things when you heard Hyunjin talking to Minho. 

You couldn't make out the words, but his shoulders were slouched, and a little stiff, his jaw set. 

Felix's elbow bumped into your arm, and when you looked at him, he was smiling with raised eyebrows. 

You rolled your eyes as he giggled.

Then, Hyunjin came out of nowhere, scooping Felix into his arms and dashing towards the water as Felix laughed harder.

Yet, Minho's pained expression as he watched them tugged at your heart. 

You wished you could carry his pain, just like he does every time for you.

But you weren't good with honest talks or comforting words. 

You walked to him, and as if he sensed your approach, his gaze met yours, yet it looked like he was still lost in thoughts. 

Then, your feet kicked up the cold water in his direction.

Minho's face looked dumbfounded; his expression reminded you of his cats, which made you laugh.

“Are you having fun, Y/n?” His eyes narrowed. 

You exchanged an excited glance with Minho before making your way to the water's edge. 

"Very," you said, taking one more step into the water.

You watched as he undressed, feeling warmth wash over your body as you admired his defined muscles that you desired to touch not so long ago.

He took one more step as you took one farther. 

You felt the cool breeze on your skin, hinting at the refreshing embrace that awaited you in the lake. 

The first steps deep into the water sent ripples across the surface, and soon you were immersed in the sensation of the cool lake enveloping your body.

Minho smirked and ran towards you, splashing water on your face, turning it into a playful war. 

You didn't know when his hands started to travel your body, pulling you to him.

Your breath hitched as his finger pressed against your lower back, and his eyes smiled even more. A beautiful moment that almost took your breath away. You loved the sight of him. 

And it was scary to feel that way, but you couldn't resist.

"I want to kiss you," he whispered low enough for only you to hear, and your eyes almost closed in response. At that moment, you wish it was only the two of you.

"They're here," you said, glancing around, but Felix and Hyunjin were still underwater

"And?" Minho's face fell into your neck as he breathed in.

Your hands went to his waist, resisting the desire inside you.

“I want to continue what we were doing,” he said.

You try to gently push him away, though you desire him even closer.

"Y/n," Minho murmured, his hands moving to your neck, tilting your face to meet him. His lips curled up as his eyes consumed you.

“Minho.”

“I won!” Hyunjin screamed, laughing loudly, shattering the tension between you two.

You and Minho lingered in the shallow water, with his hands encircling your waist while you admired the landscape, talking about everything and nothing at all. 

As the sun continued its descent, casting a warm glow over the lake, both of you found yourselves drawn back to the sun-kissed stones to dry.

The sounds of Felix and Hyunjin's voices were a soothing background, and their laughter echoed across the water as they playfully challenged each other to swim farther or dive deeper. 

They were so alike, as if made for each other.

Minho's hands naturally interlaced with yours. It was a comfortable silence until he broke it with hushed words, almost as if he wasn't sure to speak.

“Here was the first time I realized I liked him.”

He looked at the sky, one arm resting behind his head.

"He was betting something with Changbin, and when he won, he ran right to me with a big smile. His eyes never leaving mine." 

Uncertain of how to respond, you simply held his hand tighter. 

He continued, "I wanted to make him smile like that forever."

"How did you two meet?"

"I don't even remember. Our moms were friends before we were born, and being neighbors, we grew up together."

You couldn't imagine losing someone so dearly. That's why you haven't said anything to Felix. 

"Maybe that's why it's so hard to let some people go,” you said, “We associate them with all the good feelings they made us feel, the way they change us. Even if what we have of them is a distant memory.”

Minho looked at you intently, his hands gently moving from your head to your neck, a tender caress before he settled back, closing his eyes. "Maybe," he said softly.

The rain intensified as night fell, and the juicy peach in your mouth was delightfully sweet. 

The puzzle on the coffee table was left less than half done, and the sound of Hyunjin's and Minho's laughter coming from the kitchen was comforting.

If it weren't for Felix eating beside you.

Felix's lips were red, full and glossy with the sleek of the fruit, tempting you to taste it right there. 

Then, the memory of Minho's lips on yours flashed in your mind. 

You could bet that Minho would run his tongue over his lips, just to provoke you.

"There's a greenhouse not far from here," Felix said, his smiling eyes meeting yours. "When I was a child, all of us used to go there. It was our hidden place."

"Hyunjin too?"

"He and Changbin threw a tantrum with bugs every time," he chuckled, aware of Hyunjin's aversion to insects.

"He hasn't changed then."

"No, he hasn't," Felix replied softly. As you met his eyes, you glimpsed the love within them—a love you wished for so long to be directed at you. How could you express your feelings to him without risking his happiness? After all, he was your best friend.

"You really like him, don't you, Lix?"

Felix rested his head on your shoulder, his hands finding yours. "Very much."

You brace yourself for that familiar sting in your eyes, ready to hold back tears and swallow the lump in your throat. Yet, all you feel is a subtle ache in your chest. Nothing more. 

"Hey!" Minho's voice interrupted, causing Felix to lean away.

As you turned, Minho's narrowed eyes met yours for a brief moment before his expression went blank. "Hyunjin wants strawberries. We're going to town tomorrow."

Felix quickly stood up. "I was thinking of seeing Changbin tomorrow too."

Minho's eyebrows rose, and he nodded. 

Felix joined Hyunjin, who was saying something about Changbin’s girlfriend, to arrange a tray of snacks.

Minho sat beside you, attempting to resolve the puzzle.

He said nothing, but with just a glance, your heart felt a bit more at ease, as if everything would be alright as long as he was by your side.

While a boring movie was playing, Hyunjin brought a new plate of cheese, cold cuts, and fruits.

"Hey, remember when Chan fell into that fountain?" Felix chuckled.

Hyunjin snorted, "Jeongin and Seungmin grabbed a frog and ran towards us, only to let it jump onto Changbin's lap."

"And he screamed so loudly," Minho added.

You adored hearing them talk about the past. Felix shared countless childhood memories, making them feel like your own. 

Meanwhile, Minho was more reserved when he told you about his past. As if everything he said left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. 

You have wondered before about his childhood – Was he quiet? Shy? Confident and sarcastic? Was he easily afraid like the others? What was his favorite pastime? There was so much you didn't know.

Hyunjin snapped his fingers, before saying, “Remember when Jisung and Changbin fought?”

“They thought they liked the same person,” Felix said, already laughing.

"I think it was their first crush," Minho said.

But Felix shook his head, "Changbin liked a certain someone before," narrowing his eyes at Hyunjin, who, instead of answering, took a long sip of wine. 

Minho smiled and whispered to you, "Hyunjin used to have a crush on Changbin's ex-girlfriend."

"I can hear you, you know."

“Did you like anyone back then?” Felix asked Minho.

Your eyes glanced at Minho.

It was a small reaction, one that’d go unseen if you weren't so close to him. His body stiffened, his hands gently closing, and the slight downturn of the corner of his lips. 

Jisung was his first love. 

“Someone needs to get more wine,” Hyunjin's voice interrupted, exchanging a look with Minho before grabbing the bottle, shaking it to show an empty one. 

You felt relief wash over you with the distraction, and your hands instinctively moved to Minho's neck, playing with the strands of his hair.

You wanted to kiss him right there. Try to make him forget. You wanted to punch Jisung for breaking Minho's heart, kiss away the hurt, and claim his heart for yourself. 

With rain pouring still falling outside and no umbrellas, Felix suggested settling things with a game of chance to see who will go to the wine house.

“There's beer, why do we need wine?” Minho asked.

"Because Y/n has never tasted cherry wine," Hyunjin replied.

Minho rolled his eyes, grabbed some stickers, broke one of them, and then, after mixing them, made everyone choose one. You went first.

“I can't believe this,” you said, holding the short stick.

They all laughed at your reaction.

"Cherry wine it is, Y/n," Hyunjin teased as you headed outside.

Anticipation coiled inside as you stepped into the night, rain lashing down, and the air carried the scent of wet earth. Dark clouds hung low, lightning illuminating the sky.

The first rumble of thunder sounded as you hurried towards the wine house. 

Inside, a cool breeze welcomed you, tinged with the scent of aged oak.

With a flick of the switch, warm light flooded the space, revealing rows of wooden racks adorned with an array of wine bottles, the labels displaying a variety of colors and designs.

Your fingers gently brushed against the cool glass surfaces until they came to rest on one in particular—a tall, elegant bottle with a dark burgundy label adorned in gold details and an illustration of a grapevine: Ruby Reserve. 

Memories flooded back—the taste of the wine, the desire to feel it on Felix's lips.

He had bought this wine to celebrate your birthday. It was only both of you on a winter night. He danced with you, chest close to yours, lips brushing your neck. It was the night you fell for him.

As you ventured deeper, you found the wine Hyunjin mentioned, your hand reaching out when footsteps approached from behind.

“I thought you got lost,” Minho said.

“Liar,” you smiled, turning to meet him. “You just missed me.”

He returned your smile with one of his own. “Oh, you know me so well.”

He looked you up and down, stopping at your hands. His fingertips touched yours as he held the bottle for you. It was a simple touch, but the contact made your heart skip a beat.

"We used to steal wine from Hyunjin's dad," he said, looking straight at you. "One day, the three of us got so drunk that we woke up here, early morning, totally passed out."

The three of us. By his nostalgic eyes, you knew he was talking about Jisung.

You tried to keep your smile, but it's been getting harder when he mentioned anything about Jisung.

You remember his words in the lake.

Perhaps he wants to open up about it, but you weren't sure if you were ready to know, not without feeling your heart tighten. 

What if he wants to go back to Jisung? How should you react? Should you intervene? Or should you support him as a friend?

"It sounds like you had a fun childhood," you said, trying to keep your tone light.

He smiled, gentle and kind, “I did.”

Your heart quickened as you locked onto his brown eyes, missing all the little details that you grew to love due to the low light. Then, his lips, full and begging to be kissed. A sharp jawline, pretty eyebrows you liked to trace with your thumb in the early mornings when you woke him. Soft hair, perfectly interlaced with your fingers as he eats you out.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

You smirk, “You.”

“Doing what?” he narrows his eyes, closing the distance between you.

“Guess?”

His chest came close to yours, and you felt his hands on your waist. Warm against your skin.

His mouth came close to your ears. Lips near your ear, he whispered, "Pleasuring you." His mouth tracing down your neck.

“Be more specific.”

He nibbled on your neck, hitting your sensitive spot, causing a slight flinch. Meeting your gaze, his lips brushed yours as he said,

“Drowning in your pussy.” 

You swallow hard, feeling his hands lower to your hips and unable to tear your gaze from his intense eyes. But before you can kiss him, he pulls away a little, just enough to say, "Be honest with me, how do you still feel about Felix?”

Startled, you question, "What? Why?"

Minho keeps staring, demanding an answer. You swallow hard, unable to tear your gaze from his, his stare. So you give in.

"I don't know," you say. "I guess… I still have a deep love for him, but I don't know where the friendship ends and where love begins anymore. It's not as clear as before."

He continues to study you, absorbing every word. You can't help but also wonder about his feelings for Jisung. His hands delicately touch your chin, and before you can think, his lips are on yours.

Gently, he says, his lips brushing yours."Me too. I don't know if the feeling is real or just a memory that I'm too attached to let go."

You nudge his lips and say in the midst of a chaste kiss, "Then let's figure it out, Min."

His gaze holds yours for less than a second before deepening the kiss.  You yield, parting your lips to welcome his tongue. 

Minho's kiss unfolded slowly, leisurely and tender. His hands cupped your breasts, fingertips grazing over your nipples.

Your hands roam every inch of him, pulling him closer.

Minho's hands travel your body, from your breasts to your neck, tracing your cheeks, then south to your waist, hips, and gripping your ass. 

"Fuck, I want you," he murmurs, pressing his hardness against you. His lips trail down your cleavage as he pulls up your shirt.

You feel a tingling sensation, wanting his lips on your breasts. He returns to your lips, kissing you slowly, his chest grazing your hardened nipples.

His eyes lock onto yours, and he gives you a devilish smirk before kissing your breasts, sucking and licking your nipple while teasing the other between his fingers. His legs go between yours, and you can't help but move your hips slightly.

Struggling to control your breath, your body tingles with anticipation. "Please," you say, sliding your hips against him. "Minho, please."

Slowly, as if he has all the time in the world, he lets his hand travel between your legs, underneath your panties, kissing you before sliding two fingers between your folds.  

Your pussy clenches in need, and his tongue matches the slow, precise, and torturous movements of his fingers.

You arch your back, and he moves his lips to a sensitive spot on your neck, then slides both fingers inside. "Good girl," he murmurs, drawing one finger upward to meet your swollen clit.

You gasp into his mouth, tightening your arms around him. 

He keeps going, one hand on your pussy and the other firmly on your waist.

You bring your face closer to him. His mouth comes to rest near your ear, and your pussy clenches by listening to his breaths, moans, his face slightly flushed as he pleasures you.

His lips parted to gently bite your neck, and trailing down to your chest, stopping to suck and lick your nipple. "Tell me, kitten, what do you want?" he asks, thrusting his fingers inside you.

You moan, wanting more. "Fuck me with your tongue."

Your legs weaken as Minho, drops to his knees, pulling your shorts down and leaving you bare to him. Your stomach flutters as he looks at your wetness. He grabs one of your thighs and raises it to his shoulder.

His eyes meet yours before he presses kisses on your leg, moving up to the inside of your thighs, sucking and biting. 

You'll lose your mind.

"Tell me you want me," he urges, his breath, too close to your core, sending shivers through you.

"I want you," you say, desperately, begging him to touch you. 

"How much?"

You moan, "So much, Minho. Please."

"I want you too, Y/n. I want to taste you, fuck you, feel your lips on my cock—every part of you on me." Finally, his tongue delves between your folds.

It felt like lightning struck inside you, causing your hips to buck uncontrollably. He holds them firmly and continues to devour you.

His tongue exploring every inch of you with alternating nips, licks, and long, suckling strokes.  

"Minho," you say through heavy breaths, “Please, fuck, I can't take much more.” 

He sucks on your clit, and you scream his name, gripping his hair, pulling his face closer, desperate to feel more.

Using the broad side of his tongue, he quickened his pace until the tightness inside you coils, unbearable. 

With his name on your lips, you throw your head back, gasping for breath. You squirm in his hold, moving your hips back and forth.

He doesn't stop, drawing more pleasure from you as the orgasm rolls through you like the thunder outside.

When he stops, you're breathing heavily, feeling the sweat rolling down your spine. 

Minho rises to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his lips, melting into the kiss, arms around his neck, just savoring the moment. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on yours. 

Neither of you says anything, but you sense hesitation in his eyes.

It was on the tip of your tongue, the words you were terrified of telling. And it seems, you wanted to believe, that it was on his too.

As you walk back, the cool breeze offers redemption to your warm and slightly sweaty skin, the wine long forgotten. 

The storm has gone away. A passing rain. 

Minho walks with his hands caressing your fingers, and your heart races just by feeling him by your side. 

You need to admit to yourself; you're in love with Minho, and you have no idea what to do now.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Author's note: Hi! I hope you liked this story. English is my second language, so please excuse my errors. Constructive feedback is always appreciated! I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting of my work.

Did you enjoy this? If so, please reblog it. Thank you for reading! Sending love 💕

Copyright © 2023 by Writerastray.

[97keanu]

please... i beg of you... Neo x Office Siren!Reader preview...

Here’s the intro:

Fluorescents hummed overhead as rows and rows of identical cubicles typed away for this thing or that. Thomas Anderson sat hunched over at his desk, already feeling the heat of the summer months moving through the office, trying not to break a sweat while working on the company's programming duties. Similarly disheartened employees moved around him, slowly and doing anything they can not to actually do their job. That seemed to be a theme here. If Thomas was being honest with himself, he hardly knew what his job was even supposed to be. His best guess was some sick social trap to suck the life out of him, but who knows.

Burnt out from today's work, or lack thereof, Thomas checks the time.

12:45pm

You would be back from lunch any minute now. He waited for the soft clacking of your kitten heels to enter from the elevator, his desk the perfect space away so that he could watch you make your way back to your desk. He tilts his head just so, making sure not to be so obvious as you walk by, your black pencil skirt tight, showing off your form as your hips hypnotize him with their siren song.

You walk into the office, and it’s as if your very smile lights up the mood. Jealousy courses through Thomas as he watches you laugh, musical and soft, at another co-worker's passing joke, knowing he would never get the same interaction. Everyday he wonders what it would be like to talk to you, actually talk to you, not the talking you two have to do for work purposes. If he could just do that, maybe, he would have a chance. He could try to make you laugh, or impress you with his knowledge about all your favorite topics he’s picked up from watching you so often. Maybe you would even agree to let him ask you on a date. That was only if you two really got to talking though. He had to come up with a way to figure that out.

For now, he watches as you glide past him. Perfect. You were just too perfect for him. His eyes slide down to your hips, watching as you walk away, loose hair in your sleek bun bouncing slightly with each step.

He feels the prickle of being watched as you sit down, eyes moving from your ass to your face. You give him a narrow look over your small oval glasses, and Thomas looks away, embarrassed for getting caught. He tries to blame the rise of heat in his cheeks on the weather, and dips his head back to his computer, the green glow washing over his nervous features.

He should have learned his lesson for today, but instead, he peeks over the very edge of his cubicle at you once more, just to check to see if you really noticed him or if he had imagined the whole thing.

When he does, he sees you standing, unbuttoning the front of your white button down blouse, letting your cleavage come into clear view. You fan yourself with a manila folder, the heat of the day glistening on your skin there, inviting him to look. This time when he catches your eye, you look up, a smile on your glossy lips, before standing. The clack of your heels call out to him as you walk towards him, and soon enough standing in front of his cubicle.

He tries to speak, but your finger presses against his lips, French tips silencing him. You drop to your knees, wasting no time unbuckling his belt and slacks, pulling his cock out with a smirk. You look up at him over those damned sexy glasses as you take him into your mouth, your thin eyebrows coming together as if it’s such a hard task sucking a huge cock like his. Thomas leans his head back and enjoys the feeling of your pretty little throat, losing himself in it.

Reality hits him like a ton of bricks when a stack of papers falls into his lap instead of your lips wrapped around his cock. His project manager laughs at how startled he seems, and Thomas tries to play it cool, hoping the tenting in his black slacks wasn’t too noticeable.

“Looks like somebody needs another trip to the coffee machine, Anderson.” He teases him, then walks away to make another employee’s day worse with more work.

Thomas glances back in your direction, where you read from a library book you keep at your desk. You have no idea the fantasies he has in his head about you, your mind lost in your own world at the moment.

He’s just so uber extra pathetic in this one!!! Like he knows you’re way too good for him and he’s such a disgusting little perv about !!!!

[steddiealltheway]

Part Three of Six of Meddling ;). Part One. Part Two. AO3 Link.

Nancy drives the four of them to whatever mystery location as Steve has a minor freak out in the backseat because it’s finally hitting him that he kissed Eddie. And Eddie kissed him back. And that’s not something he wants to just breeze over and pretend never happened.  

How will things ever be the same after this?  

Steve runs a hand through his hair as reality hits a little too hard.  

“You okay?” Eddie whispers as his hand moves to rest on Steve’s knee.  

Steve glances down at the hand and squeezes it once before he replies, “Yeah.” But he knows his smile is a little too forced based on the way Eddie’s staring back at him with concern.  

The car slows to a halt.  

“We’re here!”  

Steve glances out the window, and it suddenly hits him. They’ve taken them to the bar where they first met.  

“Throwback,” Eddie breathes out.  

It had been a while since they had been back there. Things had changed over the past three years, and they had found a new bar with better acoustics for Eddie to play at when he isn’t hogging the small stage at the café where he works.  

Still, sometimes Steve misses the place where some of his best memories had formed.  

Once they get inside, nostalgia hits Steve in a way that’s almost bittersweet. Eddie must be feeling the same way based on the low whistle he lets out next to him as they look around. Nothing has really changed since they were last here.  

“We’re going to grab a table away from you guys but remember to take pictures and just text whenever you want to head out. But this is our lunch plan so eat up,” Robin says with a big smile before grabbing Nancy’s hand and pulling her to a far corner spot.  

“I’m kind of relieved that they’re not sitting with us,” Eddie admits as he and Steve walk to the opposite part of the somewhat dead bar. “Can’t wait to get that camera out of my face. I just hope they don’t try to sneak pictures of us while we’re eating.”  

Steve snorts. That sounds exactly like something Robin would do, so he does his best to find a booth where he can’t see the girls and vice versa. He eventually points at one and sits across from Eddie, and the sight of him thoroughly distracts him from any thoughts about Nancy or Robin.  

Eddie pulls out his phone and sets it down on the table. He taps on it once and asks, “What if we only did a cheesy picture of each other before we eat, with our food, and a quick selfie after we finish? Then we can just live in the moment and enjoy this.”  

Steve sticks out his hand for Eddie to shake. “Deal.”  

Eddie grabs his hand and presses a quick kiss against the back of it. “Deal,” he agrees with a wink.  

A blush starts to creep up on Steve’s face, so he ducks his head and grabs his phone – but he knows he’s not being subtle about trying to hide his face. As a new means of distraction, he hits the camera icon and quickly snaps a picture of Eddie without warning. “Pre-date picture done.” Oh, why did he have to call it a date?  

Eddie luckily brushes off his little blunder and scoffs, “No, you have to redo that. You gave me no warning!”  

Steve just laughs as Eddie pouts. Next thing he knows, Eddie’s phone is coming up and snapping a picture of him. Steve freezes. “Hey, that’s unfair.”  

Eddie snorts and presses on the picture. He frowns at it before turning his phone around. “Why do you always have to be so photogenic?”  

The picture is... very telling of everything Steve is feeling. He can practically see the joy and love radiating off himself in a way he hasn’t seen before. It’s terrifying.  

Eddie turns the phone back and clicks around a few times before proudly smiling and turning his phone off.  

“What?” Steve asks suspiciously.  

“Oh, nothing. But could you check the time on my phone?” Eddie asks, sliding it over.  

It’s a weird request, but Steve goes through with it, tapping on the screen. “It’s...” he trails off before he sees the time.  

His smiling face stares back at him as it covers the lock screen on Eddie’s phone. He glances up at Eddie who watches him somewhat anticipatorily. Steve doesn’t say anything, but he unlocks his own phone and immediately changes his lock screen to the picture he took of Eddie.  

It’s cuter than Steve thought it would be considering that he took Eddie off guard. He isn’t looking at the camera. Instead, he’s smiling softly at Steve with his dimples on full display. The only thing wrong with it is that it’s a little bit blurry, but he thinks it adds to Eddie’s general vibe.  

It’s the perfect lock screen really although he thinks Robin and Dustin might kill him for kicking them off it.  

It’s worth it.  

As Steve slides his phone to Eddie, a waiter comes by and introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Tony, I’ll be your waiter today. And the ladies over in the corner told me you two were celebrating an anniversary today?”  

Oh, no. Even from a distance, the two are meddling as much as they can. Steve is about to say no when Eddie replies, “Yes, it’s been three years since we first met in this very bar, and two years since we started dating.” He leans in toward the waiter all conspiratorially and stage whispers, “Give it a year, and I’ll probably be back to propose to him right here.”  

Steve chokes on his saliva.  

“Sorry, babe, did I say that too loud?” Eddie asks with a big smile. He turns back to the waiter. “He’s always telling me that I don’t know how to whisper.”  

It’s true, but Steve can’t say very much as he keeps coughing.  

“We’ll get two waters please,” Eddie says, starting to sound a bit concerned.  

The waiter must be too because before Steve knows it, a glass of water is being placed in front of him and he’s chugging it down. Gosh, he wishes this were a beer.  

Eventually, the coughing dies down, and Steve shoots an apologetic look at the waiter. He just smiles back and politely asks, “Do you know what you want to order?”  

Steve shakes his head and swipes the water off his mouth. “Haven’t looked at the menu yet, we were too busy... reminiscing.” Since when is he playing along with the lie?  

“No worries. You two take your time and happy anniversary.” The waiter quickly dismisses himself, and Steve is left to stare at Eddie.  

“Why would you do that?”  

Eddie throws his hands up. “One, this is great practice for faking a relationship, lets us establish some backstory. And most importantly, two, celebrating an anniversary means a free dessert.”  

“We’re at a bar, not a Chili’s.”  

“There’s still the potential!” Eddie argues back. “Please, Steve, my love, my sweetheart, my muffin-”  

“Please never call me your muffin ever again,” Steve says, cringing.  

Eddie sighs but then a mischievous grin slowly appears on his face. This can’t be good. “I promise not to call you that if you pretend to be my boyfriend of two years during this lunch.”  

The payoff is quite great, but he can’t let Eddie know that, So, Steve takes his time rolling his eyes and pretending to weigh the pros and cons of it all while Eddie shakes the table with how hard he’s bouncing his leg.  

Steve reaches under the table and grabs his knee to still it. “You have yet another deal. But you have to stop shaking the table, too.”  

“Sorry,” Eddie apologizes bashfully. He quickly moves on when he realizes Steve’s phone is still on the table and taps on the screen. He smiles at it and pushes the phone back. “Not as bad as I thought.”  

“Not bad? It’s perfect,” Steve scoffs as he grabs one of the menus at the end of the table.  

He doesn’t get a response, but Eddie is smiling at his menu when Steve glances up.  

Eventually, they put in their food order and chat about random things just to catch up a bit although Steve talks to Eddie every day – usually in person but occasionally over text.  

Then, Eddie randomly throws out the question, “So, are you seeing anyone?”  

Steve swallows hard and shakes his head. “No, are you?”  

“No,” Eddie replies.  

Steve tries and fails to hide a smile. They both know if they started dating someone the other would be one of the first to know, but it’s cute that Eddie asked.  

Their food comes out, and their conversation halts for a bit while they eat. But the relationship conversation plays over and over again in Steve’s head until Eddie interrupts his thoughts. “Man, I can’t believe it’s only been three years since I met you.”  

Steve laughs and finishes chewing his fry. “It feels like I’ve known you longer.”  

“Technically you have, if you count all the times Dustin mentioned my name before we met.”  

“Could’ve met sooner if I hadn’t been so afraid that you would be a weird nerd,” Steve teases him.  

“Hey, you know I’m both of those things, so don’t say it like it’s an insult,” Eddie says with a smile.  

“Well, I didn’t think those two things could be hot together, so excuse me for assuming,” Steve replies while shoving a fry into his mouth.  

Eddie leans forward. “You think I’m hot?” he asks as if he’s teasing him, but Steve can hear a bit of the uncertainty in his tone, so instead of shaming himself for admitting it he shrugs.  

“Always have.”  

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds before he clears his throat and changes the subject, “You should’ve worn the yellow sweater.”  

The comment startles a laugh out of Steve. “Of course you would bring that up. I’ve never understood your obsession with the thing.”  

“Well, there’s a reason I brought it up now.”  

“Oh really,” Steve says raising his eyebrows, not ready for whatever line Eddie has prepared. “And why’s that?”  

“It’s what you were wearing when we first met,” Eddie says as if it’s nothing.  

It takes Steve entirely off guard. His stomach does a little flip. “You remember what I was wearing after all this time?”  

“Yeah,” Eddie says but quickly moves on to ask, “Speaking of that night, what happened to that girl you were with?” He looks away as he asks the question, taking one of Steve’s fries but still not looking him in the eye as he eats it.  

Steve tries to shake off the little piece of information Eddie just gave up as thinks back. He shrugs. “Nothing happened there. I was actually on a date with her that night. She left after we met. Told me I should go out with you instead since I hadn’t paid her any attention since the moment I laid eyes on you.”  

Eddie glances back up at him, holding so much intensity in his gaze. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”  

“Because I didn’t think I had a chance and didn’t want to risk getting my heart broken.”  

Eddie stares at him, and Steve thinks that they both feel it. All the time they lost that they could’ve potentially spent together if Steve would’ve said something three years ago. But maybe Eddie is thinking something entirely different.  

“Steve-”  

“Hi, I hope everything is tasting alright. Also, I have a dessert on the house for you two. Happy anniversary, and I hope to see you two next year,” the waiter says as he slides the check on the table. Steve swears that he has the same bad timing as Robin and glares at the man as he turns his back.  

“Steve-” Eddie tries again, but then, speak of the devil, Robin is suddenly scooting into the booth next to him and making grabby hands at the dessert.  

“I love free dessert,” she says. “Thanks for going through with it. I thought it would be good practice.” It’s a clear lie based on the way she’s staring at the chocolate cake.  

Nancy gives Steve an apologetic smile as Robin steals his spoon and digs in.  

Steve shoots Eddie a look trying to convey, we’ll talk later.  

He gets a sad smile in response, then they both pick up their forks and take a bite of the cake. Steve can barely enjoy it as he knows that the fate of his and Eddie’s relationship might rely on their next conversation. But Nancy and Robin also won’t leave them alone.  

This is not good.  

Part Four

Tag List :

@henderdads @little-gae-shit @dreamingtheimpossibe @leethegay @lazyavenuewhispers @olibxr @thegayestpersonever @heartsforhawke @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @evillitteguy @miss-hit @infrogulous @romanticdestruction @liz5100 @evix-syne666 @bebe07011 @corrodedseraphine @meganwinchester @manda-panda-monium

[missmarveledsblog]

Flumpy ( jake seresin x reader) part 9

summary : he can't let it end like this , truly and utterly he can't let this be the end , flumpy tells jake maybe he needs to think if a relationship is what he wants and give her space , cassie tries it again in the hard deck only this time jake stops it and shares his thoughts , rooster gives his two sense

warning : angst but fluffy ending because i'm sorry for the last part and am hoping this one gets me forgiven lol ,

A moment , just one moment she thought it was a horrible dream . That was til the sting of her now sore and dry eyes  and how cold and empty the bed was that really set the reality of things in . the thoughts of the woman all over jake , the accusations and venom from his lips hit her like a speeding train . how she felt coming home alone and crying herself to sleep . what was an amazing weekend turned to complete and utter shit show , one she wish never existed . she didn’t know what hurt more the way he let that woman think she could have him , the humiliation or the fact he thought she would do such a thing . 

She needed to get up , getting something into her sick riddled stomach and maybe just come back to bed for rest of the day . she dragged herself from the bed to her bathroom  the splash of cold water on her puffy face was soothing but the feeling in her stomach continued . maybe this was sign they weren’t meant to be or a cruel joke the universe was playing on  her . she pulled her door open startled slight at the incoming body or the thud to the ground . she wanted to feel bad as she looked down at the confused blonde,  the fact he fell asleep outside her door and how uncomfortable it must of been and yet when she looked at him all she saw was the tramp at the bar and the face of anger on jakes toward the one he was suppose to love . she was now pissed standing over him and storming to the kitchen even if her head , heart and eyes were hurting .

Jake never had gotten up so quick almost tripping over his feet as he ran to the kitchen . if he had to .. not had to he was prepare to fall to his knee and beg her to forgive him , beg her to let him make it right. 

“ baby i am so sorry shit sorry ain’t ever near enough to how much i fucked up , i trust you , i trust you with my life  he began . 

“ was that before or after that woman had her hands all over you , jake if you wanted to break up and catch up with an old fling you could of done so long before last night” she scoffed keeping her  back to him and her voice firm. 

“ no i wouldn’t  do that , i would never do that to you” . 

“ but you thought i would , you thought i would cheat on you,  you let that woman think she had a chance , you didn’t tell her no or to stop i was your girlfriend nah you thought better to turn the tables and humiliate me in front of our friends and everyone we work with , you made me look like a joke because i hug a man , a gay man i know from college , i would never do that on you , i would never made you feel the way you made me feel last night” she turned her eyes filling with tears ready to spill any second. “ maybe we need to think if this , us “ she stood turning away ready to head back to her room . 

“ i don’t want to break up , look i should of told cassie fuck off i shouldn’t of gotten so jealous  but seeing some guy so close and you putting your number in his phone and my head being a wreck already”  his own tears forming , his own voice cracking . 

“ you did that because a guy hugged me jake you don’t do that to someone you love” she cried he wanted to wrap her in his arms , hold her close to his chest but anytime he move closer she moved back. 

“ darling please i will do anything to make this right  , anything you want” he pleaded . 

“ give me space jake let me think about this” she sniffled . 

“I’m being deployed my head is messed up because i am being deployed, this is first time i have someone waiting for me come home  , a love that going to be waiting for me to get home , it’s killed me the thought of being away from you for three months and not being by your side but it’s killing me more that i’m coming home to nothing at all” he blurted out. 

“ my dad is maverick , my bestfriend and almost brother is rooster  i grew up around the navy  men i call my uncles i can handle deployment jake it would hurt but i can handle it and  do you not trust me to do that either , i need space ok just give me space” she walked off only for him to grab her hand. 

“ i trust you ,  i do really this is just new and i wasn’t thinking  but i do know it killing me more to know i may of lost my girl  , my life with you” . 

“ i need to think jake” was all she said pulling away from him  leaving him standing in the kitchen as tear streamed down his face and as she cried behind the door of her bedroom .

…..

It was hardest week of her life , she hated it not being able to be close to him , not having lunch in the back of his trunk or heading to the good duck park . she left the room every time he came into it , at work she was only giving him short answers even thought her heart panged with pain to just talk to him .  she couldn’t sleep either the bed felt so big and empty without him there , she felt sick all time her appetite was up and down  knowing they usually ate together it was just the worst time she could of been going through . 

“ hard deck tonight no excuses” nat told her walking out of the hanger before she could even answer . 

He felt rough , a week not knowing if he was ever going to make it right , she could barely look at him , barely speak to him it was a living hell .  his life felt empty and  even his performance was bad , it worst flying he’s ever done .  he done so many pushups this week he knew each part of gravel on the ground on a personal level .  he need to talk to her , he need to make it right some how .  just as he went to move towards the door she walked in with nat  . 

“ i didn’t know he was coming tonight” nat said but honestly not convincing anymore .

“ its fine come on” she moved past sitting in the corner those eyes that held so much love for him now filled with sadness and hurt.

“ jakey , there you are “ god why was this happening to him .

“ cassie fuck off really i’m here with my friends and my girlfriend “ he move back . 

“ last time didn’t seem like that “ she cooed reaching out to touch him only for jake to push her arm away. 

“ i love her ok , last time i should of told you that , shouldn’t have let you think less but that girl , that crazy will absolutely kick your ass , beautiful woman right there is the one i love more than anything” he said pushing past cassie altogether heading to y/n as  her eyes widened . 

“ baby you think i’m not ready for this and i wouldn’t blame you but you're wrong because i know nothing feels right without you being my girl ,  i hate waking up without you but mostly i hate going another second not having you being by my side , i’m serious  shit if i could i would marry you tomorrow “ the raw truth of his work falling like a dam was broken without him . 

“ marry me?” she gasped . “ you wanna marry me?” .

“ from the moment you put me in my place that day on the beach when we first met …face to  face” he nodded. 

“ hey asshole” a voice called only for jake to turn and a fist to connec to his face sending him to back . “ ok now you can continue i’ve said my peace” bradley shrugged moving to his friends . 

“ i deserved that” jake groaned rubbing his jaw. 

“ you did “ she agreed , “ lets talk outside” she stood handing him the napkin filled with ice.  “ oh and lady your lucky i’m not doing that to you” she stood looking at cassie. 

“ could of had a better time with me jakey” she cooed. 

“ fuck it” y/n muttered before well  doing what roo did sending the woman on her ass . “ now go talk” 

“ ugh my best friend is so hot” nat gushed. 

“ dude your boyfriend” 

“ i know my place” kyle laughed kissing his girls head. 

The night was calm well a lot more calm compare to start of the night as they walked down the beach it  was minutes but it felt like an eternity . til she stopped  sitting on the now cool down sand as the night time breeze flowed through her hair. 

“ you really meant it” she said breaking the silence . 

“ every single word and if you give me the chance i swear along as i’m breathing i will make it up to you” nodded .

“ you can’t flip when you see me interact with other men you need to trust me and talk to me when your feeling any type of way” she said softly . “ when you  propose  nothing too flashy  and big” she smirked only for him to push her on her back , attacking her face with kisses . 

“ or you say you’ll marry me now and i’ll get you a ring another time” he said leaning over her . “ i was dead serious  your it for me til we’re old as hell  still going to that good duck park” he kissed her lips softly. 

“ you’re crazy , this is crazy but i’m more crazy about you even if your an idiot but this week been hell without you  but before i say yes next year we’re doing couple costumes to the convention of my choosing” she arched her brow. 

“ i did say anything” he chuckled 

“ then yes jake  i will marry you , just not tomorrow we have work “ she smiled pulling him into a kiss . 

“ the day after works too” he winked .

part ten

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