#staring deep and longingly into your friends' eyes and getting lost in them

[redgearsmovin]

okay then

[star1117-archives]

✰ | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊 | ✰

┌─────── •강박 관념• ───────┐

𝐏𝐭. 𝟏: 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

└─────── •강박 관념• ───────┘

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✰ Pairing : Yandere!Mingi X Gn!Reader

✰ Genre : Yandere, Smut + Slight horror

✰ W.C : 2264

✰ Warnings : Olfactophilia (scent kink), Breaking and entering, Pillow humping, Dacryphilia, Praise + degradation, Minor breeding kink, Minor dumbification, Minor overstimulation, Unhealthy obsession, Stalking, Delusions, Minor character death, Mentions of murder

✰ A/N : Under 16’s DNI !! I am not in any way supporting or promoting this type of behaviour, it is disgusting and wrong.

✰ Series : The Obsessions

© 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝟏𝟏𝟏𝟕-𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost or use my work in any way, shape or form.

──────── •강박 관념• ────────

Mingi smiled serenely as he sat on your bed, staring at all the different trinkets and pictures adorning your shelves. His hands fiddled with a dreamcatcher that hung from your ceiling, the feathers soft on his fingertips. He bit his lip when his eyes landed on the few posters you had up on your walls, confused as to why some considered them childish. He thought it made you even more cuter, if that was even possible, to him.

He gazed longingly at your pillows, unsure if he should take the risk. Should he really disturb anything else? Then again this was your bed, the one you sleep in every night. He bit his lip, chewing it softly as he became lost in his thoughts.

“They must smell like Y/N…It would be like…”

Holding you.

He ran a cautious finger over the pillow’s edge, feeling the soft texture of your pillowcase. Pressing down slightly and recognising the soothing feeling of memory foam. Of course you have memory foam, you deserve only the best. He looked quickly from side to side, the audacity of what he was about to do causing his paranoia to rise again. He shouldn’t, you would be home any minute. But fuck it, wasn’t that part of the thrill anyways?

Ignoring the little part of his brain that still saw how wrong this was, or at the very least how reckless he was being, Mingi laid down on your bed, face rubbing in almost a feline manner on your pillow. He took in a deep breath of you, finally knowing what his one true love smelt like. He had bought all the products you used, smelled them one by one, at the same time, but it was nothing compared to this.

A wave of comfort washed over him, mouth running dry as his sniffs became more needy, the need to just… drown himself in your scent becoming overwhelming. He gripped your blanket, moulding the soft furry material slowly in his palm. He hated that he couldn’t make you his, he could never have you, but perhaps maybe this would be enough to quell his cravings. His need.

“Fuck, you smell so good baby..”

Mingi fully buried his face in your pillow, sniffing like a wild animal, frantic and crazy. Only for you, he reasoned, but was that really a reason or an excuse? Mingi had been excusing so many of his actions since he first saw you, actions that a few months ago he would’ve been repulsed by.

When he took a picture of you smiling with your friends, he reasoned he had just been at the right place at the right time. How could he not save that beautiful smile of yours?

When he took your pen when you dropped it on the floor, he reasoned that you wouldn’t need every single pen you owned. Plus, finders keepers right?

When he stole your bracelet from your bag, he reasoned that it was only string and beads. You probably wouldn’t miss it, would you?

When he cut a lock of your hair as you dozed in your lecture, he reasoned it was a small piece from the back. How would you ever notice?

When he filmed you getting dressed in your room, he reasoned that no one else would find out. What’s wrong with having a little video of the love of his life?

When he broke in to give you a little gift, he reasoned he’d be gone before you got home. What’s the harm in having a little looksie?

What’s so wrong with being too shy to approach you, so instead watching you from the shadows? Nothing. Nothing could possibly be wrong with that.

Before he could help himself, he grabbed the two other pillows on your bed, forming a vertical line to what he guessed was your main pillow. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, resisting the urge to savour the taste of you like a dog. He couldn’t control his hips however, face dropping into the pillow again when he started bucking into the ones underneath him.

It was not only risky but strenuous for Mingi, his hips twisting and turning so his body would rub against the pillow in a certain way. A little grunt left his mouth when he rubbed himself perfectly, a sigh of relief falling from his lips. He then kept a quick pace, rutting onto the pillow in an uncontrolled manner. He just had to finish, he couldn’t leave here without finishing. He just couldn’t.

So he panted quietly, biting his lip and closing his eyes once again. He sniffed and thought of you, thought of how you’d look like under him, how you’d sound, how you’d smell. He imagined your pathetic whimpers and cries, calling his name again and again as he made you feel good.

“Shit, Y/N.. So fucking good.. You smell so perfect, baby.”

There was no way to justify it, Mingi was crazy for you. His imagination and reality were slowly melding into one, lust clouding his mind to the point where he didn’t know what was real or fake anymore. The picture of you crying out beneath him was so strong he couldn’t believe it was fake. He wouldn’t believe it was fake. It was real, everything was real. You loved him and he loved you, he’s making love to you right now, he is. You’re his and you’re telling him that, screaming his name and begging for him to go faster, go harder. To fill you with his cum, breed you like the whore you are.

“Patience baby, Daddy will- ngh.. make sure you feel g-good. Just wait.”

You’re gripping the sheets now, desperately clinging to something, anything. His name is falling from your lips like a mantra, seemingly the only thing you could think of. Well you weren’t really thinking, he had fucked any thoughts out of your pretty head. All that was up there was him and how fucking good he was making you feel.

“Such a pretty babe for Daddy… and so good too. Keep up and Daddy might cum.”

Planting his hands either side of the pillow, Mingi thrusted frantically as he chased his high, his head back and his eyes closed. Your screams were now inhumanely loud, you practically wailing in his ears with pleasure. He ducked his head down and breathed in your scent, opening his eyes just to see yours rolling. Soon you let yourself fall back into the pillows, body relaxing as you whimpered quietly, shaking from your intense orgasm. It was too much, felt too good. Tears were falling now, soaking into the pillow.

“Shhh my love, Daddy’s close. You think you can cum again for me?”

You nodded your head, eyes tightly screwed shut as you sobbed between your moans and tried to keep still. Mingi was panting and groaning desperately now, taking in your ruined face. So beautiful, and only he could see it. With one last thrust of his hips Mingi stilled, letting out a whine that eventually turned into a deeper moan as he came down from his high. He laid on top of you for a minute before he flung himself next to you, chest heaving as he tried to calm his beating heart. He raised a hand to his cheek and wiped a tear from it, confused by its presence. When did he cry?

When his heart finally returned to a normal pace he dared to open his eyes, his happiness soon deflating when he saw the messy line of pillows, the one he’d been sniffing covered in drool and tears. He sat up slowly, the truth finally sinking in. So he was wrong, you didn’t love him, you didn’t let him make love to you, you didn’t let him do anything. You weren’t even there, he just pretended you were. Tricked his brain into thinking you were.

It was only then he payed attention to the stickiness in his jeans, groaning and getting off the bed. Walking to his bag he grabbed the presents he had brought for you, the presents he deluded himself into thinking he’d only leave and go. He pretended he was in control of himself, his urges.

But in actuality, he was far from it.

“For fucks sake.”

He awkwardly moved back to the bed after shrugging the backpack on, this time however going towards the desk situated next to it. He resisted the overwhelming feeling to go through your papers, read everything you’d been studying. But he managed to hold back, only picking up a pen and post-it note and sticking it to the large box of your favourite snacks he’d bought, tapping the pen against his chin as he struggled to think. Fuck, he needed to hurry up and get the fuck out of here.

“Dear… Y/N…”

He stared at the note for a second before scoffing and peeling it off the box, ripping it up and throwing it in the bin. He took another and started again.

“Dear.. my love.. Y/N…”

Mingi also ripped this up too, yet another in the bin. He slapped the side of his head a few times, mumbling under his breath.

“Come on Mingi, you got this. It’s just a small note.”

──────── •강박 관념• ────────

Something felt wrong. You didn’t know what, but it just was.

You took a look around your room, running your hands over your stuff like it was your first time being there. Nothing was out of place but it just.. felt wrong. You eventually came to your desk, a box of your favourite snacks with a bow tied around them bringing a smile to your face. Not soon after however, you took a glance at your bin, which had been shoved under your desk in a rush. You pulled it out, a layer of green fluttering down onto your soft carpet.

“The fuck?…”

Knowing you had nothing else in there, you tipped your bin upside down, a wave of post it notes falling from it. A little bit of fear shot through your body at this, your heart racing as you picked up a few of the notes.

My darling Y/N…

I wish you knew my name…

Sweetheart…

My love…

Baby I love you so much…

You’re so cute I could die…

Your eyes widened as you got further and further through the pile, the writing now becoming more rushed.

I hate that you don’t know my name..

I would die for you babe, I mean it…

I love you so much but you don’t even look at me…

Why do you do this to me?…

As you came to the last few, you gripped them with shaky hands. You were surprised you hadn’t picked them up earlier, they stood out so much in comparison to the others. Whoever had written these had clearly become agitated by this point, words turning cruel and their writing bold.

FUCK YOU FOR TORTURING ME LIKE THIS!

WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!

I’LL KILL YOU YOU STUPID WHORE I’LL KILL YOU!!

I KNOW YOU WENT OUT ON A DATE TODAY.

ILL KILL HIM! ILL KILL THE BASTARD!!

YOURE MINE.

You ran and grabbed your phone with shaky hands, taking it from the table and running back to your room. Locking the door, you went back to your desk, staring down at the mess on the floor as you started dialling Yunho’s number. Before you could press the last key however you received a restricted call, and you picked up instantly.

“Hello?”

“Evening, is this Mx. Y/N L/N?”

You creased your eyebrows at the formal tone, sitting down on your bed.

“Yes, that’s me. May I ask what this is concerning?”

Your focus changed from the detective to your bed as your eyes wandered to your pillows. You bit your lip. They didn’t look like that before…did they?

Your hand reached out, separating the pillows and placing them in one line on the bed. One looked completely normal, one had a substance on it that looked suspiciously like something it shouldn’t, and one had no pillow case on it. You then noticed a post it that had fallen when you’d picked the third pillow up, grabbing it and reading the final note from whoever had broken into your apartment. It was simple, but it set dread into your heart.

Sorry xoxo

“Mx. L/N? Did you hear what I said?”

You snapped back into reality, placing the phone back at your ear that had slowly been drooping from the shock of your discovery.

“Sorry, could you repeat yourself? Connection.”

You heard the person at the other end of the phone sigh, obviously exasperated with you.

“We need you to come down to the station to discuss where you were three hours ago.”

You placed a shaky hand over your mouth, your eyes stinging with tears. Please, don’t let it be him.

“Why?”

“I’d.. rather not discuss it over the pho-“

“Please! I need to know!”

The desperation in your voice silenced the detective on the other end of the call. He glanced at his partner, who was taking a bite out of doughnut. He just tilted his head at the detective to continue.

“Well I’m sorry to inform you Mx. Y/N, but you’re the last known contact of a Mr. Jung Yunho.”

He licked his lips, curling the phone coil around his finger.

“Who we just found stabbed to death in a ditch two hours ago.”

──────── •강박 관념• ────────

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Apply for the taglists here -> ꕥ༉‧₊˚.

[cockasinthebird]

"You reek of cigarettes," is the first thing Steve says after closing his front door behind Billy. 

"Yeah like you're so perfect, pretty boy," Billy says all nonchalant, and Steve wonders if the charming twist at the end is intentional or not. Perhaps something closer to a bad habit.

It warms his cheeks all the same, hearing Billy call him pretty boy, princess, Stevie - he doesn't know how to handle it, why it feels different than when girls call him handsome. But it's why they're here now, alone in his house, the camaro parked far down the street as if to avoid suspicion.

Just because they’re not rivals anymore doesn’t mean they’re friends either, Billy has made that ardently clear. Yet here he is, his golden curls perfect, the cologne strong and quickly filling the entire entryway, filling Steve’s lungs as he inhales deeply to calm the nerves, but the musky scent only jostles them even worse.

“So are we gonna stay here all night or are you gonna show me to your bedroom?” His tone is mean and abrasive, but it’s working.

Steve feels like a goddamn virgin on prom night, which he kind of is, in this foreign territory. Both from having Billy in his home, and soon in his bed, if he can muster the courage to get that far. And if he can do it before Billy changes his mind, although from his attitude it’s clear he’s already got one dirty boot out the door.

“Y-you want anything to drink, or?” He fucking stuttered. If the ground could open up and swallow him whole, that would be fantastic right about now.

“Nah, don’t need to liquor me up for this, Harrington, I already said yes.” Billy grins, all teeth and confidence. “Do you need a drink? You look nervous.”

Why is Steve finding it embarrassing that he’s being that transparent? This is all he’s been able to think about for weeks, all he’s been dreaming about, too, ever since he brought it up. Billy’s hands, his lips, his arms, his… everything. And now all of that is just a few steps away; blue eyes watching how increasingly red Steve’s face is getting.

“I’m… fine,” he eventually says with a bit too much force behind it, as if he’s still trying to convince himself. “Let’s just… get to it, yeah?”

Steve’s quick to turn away from how enchanting Billy’s eyes are, how dearly he wants to swim in those crystal clear lakes forever, a deep rooted willingness to drown there as well, how breathtaking the view.

“Hold on a minute,” Billy drawls, and then his hand has found Steve’s, pulling him closer till their bodies stand flush in the well lit hallway.

The hand that smoothly moves to the small of Steve’s back sets him aflame, the heaviness of it as it keeps him near an odd sensation of undeniable delight, and while he stares with wide eyed awe, Billy gazes near longingly through his lashes, his eyes occasionally dipping down to Steve’s lips that parted in a gasp.

“You have to relax,” he coos, his words ghosting across Steve’s mouth. “I want this to be an enjoyable experience for the both of us.”

Billy is a giver, that much is well known across town. Girls often rave about how long Billy spent going down on them, how attentive he is with his fingers, how spellbinding his kiss is.

“B-Billy…” Steve’s voice barely above a whisper as he with every inhale gets a mouthful of Billy’s intoxicating mixture of cologne and sweat.

“That’s right, pretty boy.” Billy smiles like he’s won something, all smooth and prideful, leans in closer till their noses touch. “Say my name.”

“Billy…”

To say the kiss lives up to its expectations is almost an understatement, as it leaves Steve breathless with knees like jelly, threatening to give out as he’s lost in this heavenly bliss. He can’t help but sigh into their embrace, something almost akin to a moan as they share a rare moment of calm and quiet together, yet the air remains statically charged with the sexual tension they’ve both been fighting for months.

Steve was drunk at a party when he off-handedly made a comment about how hot Billy is, shirtless in the summer night, how every girl would fight for his attention, how some guys might too.

Billy was barely even tipsy as he grinned at that remark, asking, “Are you one of those guys?”

And then Steve nodded, and it was clear in the way Billy leered that that changed something right there. A simple drunken comment would change their dynamic forever, and while Steve had almost been convinced it was a dream, the way Billy had winked the day after was proof enough.

But Billy had been quick to make it clear that they weren’t gonna start dating, that he wasn’t gonna woo Steve to sleep with him. They were either gonna do it or not, nothing more to it.

Yet now it feels like it could be more, as Steve swings his arms around Billy’s shoulders to keep him close here. The kiss is loving and adoring, it tastes of promises that he’s all there is left in the world, that Steve is the only guy to be found that is deserving of this. And maybe that’s exactly what all those girls felt, too, but does that really matter in the moment? To Steve that sounds like something he can worry about when he’s alone again.

For the way Billy’s hand smoothly circles around Steve’s lower back gets him hard at an exhilarating pace, and the way he can feel Billy’s own fat erection press into him is rousing to say the least. He can’t help the roll of his hips that elicits a thrilling moan.

“Fuck, Harrington,” Billy purrs, “See what you do to me?” 

He takes a step away, the emptiness between them now kills Steve a little inside, but the glorious sight of how Billy reaches down to stroke the outline of his steely cock makes up for the discomfort of lacking body heat.

“Jesus Christ, Billy,” is all Steve can breathe out in his aroused haze.

It’s near magnetic, the way Steve finds himself drawn to Billy, the way he finds himself down on his knees, the throb of his trapped erection louder than his heartbeat as he kneels before Billy, now at an eye-level with the tenting of his jeans.

Hesitation lasts only a second, as a gentle hand in his hair comforts him, pushing away any worry of judgment that if he manages to move past the belt and zipper, it might not be incredible. Steve’s never blown any guy before, kissed a few, sure, parties tend to go wild and teens tend to get bored, it happens. But this? This doesn’t “just happen”, no it’s thought about, it’s considered heavily, if not planned. And it’s embarrassing to admit that he has tested those capabilities with a banana or two in the past, but having the real deal now almost seems daunting.

“You don’t have to,” Billy says eventually, pulling Steve back from where his mind had wandered off to.

He looks up at him, eyes so blue and honest in their reassurance that it settles Steve’s nerves even further about this. “I want to, just… don’t expect anything spectacular.”

“Zero expectations,” Billy huffs out in a laugh and Steve can’t help the smile that blooms at that wonderful sound.

So with all his courage and confidence gathered in his hands, Steve unbuckles the belt, lets the zipper run free, and is immediately faced with Billy’s girthy, veiny cock. No underwear, just his bare, perfumed flesh right before Steve’s own eyes, and he swallows in an attempt to calm the few remaining nerves. 

“Are you… wearing cologne on your dick?” he asks without looking away- how could he possibly look away from this waxed-clean, heated skin.

“Yeah,” the blonde grins victoriously, “Gets the girls wet and wild.”

Not just the girls, Steve admits to himself. It’s odd, sure, but also kinda charming? It’s hard to explain, but at least it doesn’t reek of sweat. Although maybe he had kinda hoped for that, his mind is a blurry mess right now, and as he is lacking in words…

With one slightly shaky hand he reaches forth and grabs on to the leaking prick he’s eye to eye with, and gives it a tentative stroke, where his effort is met with a deep, guttural moan.

“Good.”

And it does wonders in the form of encouragement, making Steve stroke slightly faster. Whenever he gazes up to see how he’s doing, Billy is staring right back, eyes blown full with lust, barely blinking as if he’s worried he’ll miss the action before him.

“Spit in your hand for me, baby,” he suggests, no, demands with that sweet and doting cadence when he speaks.

Who is Steve to deny that? He knows from personal experience the difference, and should really have thought of that to begin with, but he was too busy to get to the action. So he brings his palm back and spits onto it.

“That’s it, ah,” it comes from above as he starts stroking the pulsating flesh again, getting it nice and slick.

Is it weird that he’s practically salivating at this? At the prospect of getting to taste the salty precum of another man? He assumes it’ll taste like his own, because why wouldn’t it, yet Billy’s seems far more delectable in theory, and perhaps in practice, too.

So it is with a deep inhale and a throbbing erection that he takes the other man in his mouth. It’s… salty, and he can kinda taste the cologne, too, he thinks, but most important of all is how good it feels. Great even. The velvety foreskin, the smooth head, the hole as he runs his tongue across it. The taste is off putting, truth be told, but the rest of it makes it all worth it, especially the way Hargrove hums with pleasure and strokes Steve’s hair, urging him on. So he dares go deeper, lower, closer to the base. Not quite as far as a banana can go, but definitely far enough to satisfy the other, and as he pulls back with his cheeks hollowed, the hand in his hair pulls and out comes a loud,

“Arh, fuck yeah, Harrington, that’s the sweet stuff.”

Steve can’t help it when his own hand reaches down to press against his own trapped cock to alleviate some of the building burden.

“Hold on, Stevie boy, let me just get comfortable, yeah?” Billy shows impressive self restraint as he moves his hips till he’s free from Steve’s lips, who unintentionally pouts and looks oh so disappointed.

He stays on his knees as he watches Billy move further away, sitting down on the stairs, legs spread wide and inviting, even more so when the blonde starts stroking himself. And with a finger wag he growls,

“Come here.”

Nobody could possibly refuse such a welcoming gesture, and staying on all fours Steve crawls toward those spread open thighs, trying his best to look sexy whilst doing so, but frets that he just looks plain silly. But the way Billy smirks, nothing matters more than that flash of white teeth, and suddenly Steve doesn’t care how he looks.

As he comes near, the lifeguard extends one leg till his dirty boot is pressed against the tented crotch of Steve’s expensive levi’s, undoubtedly getting mud all over the denim, but when Billy rolls his ankle and foot, an embarrassingly loud moan is forced forth from the brunette’s pretty pink lips.

“I want you to take care of yourself, too, pretty boy. Show me how much I turn you on.”

Steve nods frantically and with hands of equal excitement he tears through his belt and zipper to free himself with a delighted sigh, as he with the still slick hand pulls out his throbbing erection in the gap of his underwear.

“That’s it, baby, stroke yourself.”

It’s as if the rather gentle commandeering makes it feel better, or perhaps it’s those crystal clear eyes that stare with an insatiable hunger that just drives Steve mad with lust. He strokes far too fast far too soon, moaning and grunting his way to a building orgasm, when all too rudely Billy uses the toe of his boot to swipe Steve’s arm away.

“Take it easy now,” he laughs slightly, “Wait for me a little, yeah? Come closer.”

Steve does as told, and crawls as close as he can get before the bottom step of the staircase hinders his progress.

“Good boy.”

He blushes. He fucking blushes. First the stuttering and now this, fuck his life, fuck Billy fucking Hargrove.

“Looking so good like this, all hard and eager for me.” Billy leans forward, tenderly runs his hand through those lucious brown locks, then tightens a fist, making Steve groan out in unadulterated lust. “Don’t ever forget who made you like this; like a bitch in heat.”

The coming kiss is cruel and enchanting and Steve melts into it, feels his dick give a lively kick where it stands tall between the two.

“Now, get to work, Harrington.” And he releases him from his grasp before slumping back onto the stairs, resting like a king on a throne, as comfortable as he can get at least.

Steve can’t explain exactly why, but he practically jumps at the chance to have Billy’s girth in his mouth again; feels a strange loss without it. And when it’s heavy back on his tongue again, it feels like home, like it belongs with him. Billy just… has a magic about him. Steve gets it, he gets what all those girls were raving about whenever he managed to be within earshot.

“Fuck, Stevie, that’s good. Sure you haven’t done this before?” Billy tips his head backwards, resting it on the next step, hand in Steve’s hair as he guides him back and forth.

Steve hums in disagreement, insisting that he hasn’t done this before, but man… he’s definitely willing to do it again and again and again, if Billy will let him.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Billy is practically moving his head like a puppeteer, it’d be hard to focus both on moving his hand and mouth at once, and he lets himself get dragged along, from base to tip, as deep as he can go till it gets hard to breathe. He strokes himself faster and faster, matching the rhythm that Billy keeps, as the blonde moans and groans louder and wilder.

All the way till he cums down Steve’s unprepared throat, who does his best to swallow every bit of it, yet some still manages to drip down from his chin. And when Billy finally lets go of the brunette, he falls backwards and coughs from the rougher treatment he got.

And Billy’s fucking laughing, heartily, running a hand through his perfect curls, grinning from ear to ear with a most satisfied glow to his skin. “Damn Harrington, you do that better than those cows at school.”

Without another word between the two, Billy’s on his knees now, too, pushing Steve’s legs apart. “Let me take care of you now.”

Steve can’t do anything other than give half a nod before Billy’s lips have closed around his cock. “Ah! F-fuck, Billy,” he practically shouts as the other bobs his head so deep he gags around the impressive length.

It’s kinda violent, a bit too eager perhaps, and while it isn’t the worst blowjob he’s ever had, it sure has a lot of teeth. But that’s who Billy is. Spit and teeth and cigarettes and cologne on his dick. It’s kinda bad, but also kinda amazing, he might even grow to like the roughness of it, and truly he shouldn’t have expected anything else from the rat king of Hawkins High.

“Fuck, don’t- oh, don’t stop,” he whines, the orgasm building faster than with any girl he’s ever been with, and it is undeniably because of the fact that it’s him, Billy.

“Billy Billy, ah shit, Billy,” he mumbles his name incoherently, and with every word the blonde hums around him, sucks harder, faster, better. 

Billy guides Steve’s legs up and over his shoulders as he sucks dick like it’s a contest and he’s too afraid of losing, the underwear surrounding the engulfed cock getting wet and sticky with the mix of drool and precum that leaks endlessly till the final bow and Steve’s cumming hot and heavy down Billy’s throat, who drinks it all up like it’s his favorite flavor of milkshake.

And boy is Steve loud as he orgasms, legs tensing around Billy’s head, voice echoing throughout the empty mansion that would surely startle any mice or rats awake this late. He keeps moaning and huffing even after Billy has released him from his hold, as he lays flat on the ground gasping for air after what can only be described as a magnificent orgasm, and Billy looks so proud of himself for it.

“That good, huh?” He wipes his lips and sucks his thumb clean.

“I think I saw stars,” Steve admits all too readily.

“Well then what I’m about to do to you is gonna blow your mind, pretty boy.” Billy stands up, and offers a hand to the far too exhausted brunette. “Now how about you show me to that bedroom of yours?”

[sukirichi]

Hello! Can you write one about Nanami where the reader is oblivious and they're really close to Gojo so he gets jealous often. Sometimes Gojo does things purposely to annoy him and one day he just lost his composure and accidentally admitted his feelings for you.

I hope u accept if you're not too busy. Thank you!!!

— a little push

— sometimes all nanami needs is a little push.

nanami kento x fem! reader

thank you for the request anon! i’m not sure if reader is oblivious enough but i hope you like it! there’s some thick pining here hur hur, i hope you like it! i never knew i needed an easily flustered and awkward nanami in my life also this is unedited as usual

check my bio for masterlist and my milestone event! (◕ᴗ◕✿)

“Do you mind?”

Nanami sighs, silently praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear the way his heart is absolutely panicking and beating wildly right now. You’d randomly pushed him inside the teachers’ office the moment he got back to the institute at work, and now he’s doomed to hide his feelings while you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, a shaky yet excited grin painted on your face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you wave your hands in front of you, although he can tell you’re not apologetic at all. Nanami clears his throat when you step backwards to give him space, unsure if he’s happy or sad about the distance. “I was just really excited to see you back.”

Your carefree, lighthearted voice, along with that little jump in your toes combined with your statement – you’re basically asking Nanami to shrivel up already.

The stoic man remains composed, though, only shifting to adjust his tie while he stares down at you. You’re still somewhat bouncing on your feet, teeth biting your lip – a habit you had when you want to say something but contemplating whether you should. Tilting away to hide the slight flush in his cheeks, Nanami sighs again, pretending to be tired.

The last thing he wants to admit that even though he is exhausted from work, is that you’d never bother him. In fact, having you bombard him like this makes him feel like he didn’t deal with special grade curse by himself all alone just an hour ago.

“If there’s something you want to say, I suggest you get it over with. I don’t want to stay overtime and wait until the blindfolded creep comes around.”

You giggle at his insult, hiding behind your cupped palms. Crap, Nanami looks away and focuses on the birds outside instead, suddenly finding them so interesting despite never paying attention to them before. Maybe that was the curse of crushes – it had people acting differently and in complete contrast with their behavior.

“About that,” you begin almost shyly now, and Nanami practically bursts when he sees you tapping both of your pointer fingers together, gaze tilted away from him.

It makes him wonder you’re nearly on the same skill to Gojo, yet still somehow look like a small, innocent being that makes him want to protect you from everything – even if you were more than capable of handling things yourself. Well, Nanami concludes to himself, maybe you’re really just that paradoxical that it makes sense why he can never think straight around you. Maybe he’s really not supposed to understand the complexity of his feelings when you were a phenomena to begin with already.

“You see…Satoru asked me out.”

Nanami stiffens at your statement for a split second before his head whips to you so fast. You’re observant – of course you are, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer – and you easily pick up in his sudden change of demeanor. Your brow raises at his abrupt reaction, to which Nanami conceals by flexing his neck and rolling his shoulders back.

“I am simply tired from work,” he haf-lies, “So, Satoru asked you out? Will you say yes?”

His words and tone are monotonous, almost bored even, but deep inside he’s so close to beating the crap out of his co-worker. Well, not really, Nanami isn’t a man of violence, but he’s jealous. Of course he is – he’s liked you ever since Principal Yaga hired you.

He’s never told Satoru about his little crush on you. He would be stupid to do such; Satoru would tease him to no end and maybe even be as childish to go as far as pushing him to you. Typical elementary shit, Nanami cringes to himself, watching as you look down at your feet with a pout. Now that confused him. He isn’t sure what your body language means at all, but patient as ever, Nanami only waits.

“Well,” you scratch your forehead, “I’m really flattered. I want to say yes because Satoru is a nice guy—”

“He is not. I do not respect him.”

You roll your eyes at the way his eyes darkens, “—but also I’m not sure if I should. I mean, Satoru doesn’t really date, you know? He’ll be with like one girl and be with another the next week. I just don’t want to…like, fall for that, I guess. Not that I won’t, because he’s totally not my type—”

“It’s just a yes or no,” Nanami cuts you off, his words coming out a lot harsher than he intends it to be. It’s not that he’s annoyed at your rambling, he actually finds it so adorable when you get so lost in your train of thoughts that your mind just travels from one place to another, and seeing how your eyes just leave farther from reality is something he’s always find such an attractive quirk, but not now – not when his infuriating co-worker is intending to mess with your feelings. “Do you want to go or not? Yes or no? It’s as simple as that.”

You blink back at him in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Nanami was a no-bullshit man who hit things right on the head, a huge contrast to your happy-go-lucky self, but he’s right.

It is that simple – and you’re complicating things all over again.

When you give him an answer, Nanami has to muster all his energy to not deflate. He’s tired – but now his exhaustion and even the heartbreak comes crashing down all over him that he’s immediately weighed down and overwhelmed – so much so that all he wants is to go home.

“Yes, I want to go.”

It’s his day off.

Like everything else in his life, Nanami plans everything down to the last minute of his day. His day off consisted of him having the privilege to sleep in until 8am, then breakfast with coffee from that great café a five minute walk away from his apartment, then he’ll be reading books in his study for two hours. Comes after that is lunch, and he’ll brows through some TV shows, pick up his clothes from the dry cleaning, get that special limited edition dinner of his favorite sushi, read books again and call it a day.

Simple, peaceful, no hassle – it’s the perfect day to relax.

Except it isn’t.

Because it’s your day off too, and you’re out on a date with Satoru. He still remembers how happy you looked then upon accepting the white haired man’s invitation, your nimble fingers wrapped around his sleeve as you shyly asked him to come with you.

He doesn’t know why you had to bring him, but he doesn’t question it, nonetheless. Nanami wants to see how Satoru would react, if there could be any indication from the man behind his blindfold that he had ill intentions. Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be any. Satoru only beamed and deflated into a chibi, enthusiastically nodding along with you while you planned your date together.

Nanami took it upon himself to leave.

With a silent scoff, Nanami placed his dinner down on the counter. Because it’s his day off – and mostly because he doesn’t feel like himself – Nanami went out to buy the limited edition sushi wearing a white shirt and some gray sweatpants, too forlorn and a little jealous to even bother dressing up.

It’s stupid, really. He’s been looking forward for this sushi for a long, long time, but now that he’s had it, he can’t even enjoy the taste. His mind keeps going back to you.

Were you having fun with Satoru? Were you enjoying your time? Was Satoru treating you well? What was Satoru’s intentions when it came with you? The last time Nanami checked, you and him got along really well and you’re mostly the one who whacks the taller man in the head upside down when he’s being stupid, almost like two peas in a pod, except you were the smarter one. He’d been so sure you’re nothing but friends and yet…it all lead to this.

Nanami pushes his sushi away. They no longer taste like anything, the texture like dried paper on his mouth. He wipes his lips with a napkin, staring longingly at well…nothing. His walls were plain and empty, and suddenly, Nanami can’t help but compare himself to Gojo.

You both planned to go to the local carnival. There’d be lots of foods and even parlor shops, ferris wheel rides and photo booths to create memories. Of course you and Satoru would go there; both of you enjoyed loud, bustling crowds, claiming there was something amazing about basking in the “lives of humans when ignorant of curses” while Nanami prefers his peace and silence.

Had you gone out on a date with him instead, Nanami can’t guarantee he’ll be any fun. He most definitely wouldn’t ask you to go to a carnival with him either. It was loud, cramped, crowded, and it’s too chaotic for him to ever enjoy your presence and enjoy it alone.

Nanami closes the sushi box, turns on the TV and lets is play on the background, a wet towel above his eyes to relax his tired eyes.

He hopes you’re having fun. He hopes Satoru is treating you well. Nanami just ignores the slight pain in his chest when he thinks of you, laughing and touching anyone but him, and he could picture it already. You’ve always been so open and welcoming to everyone, he knows you’ll have fun today, too.

That’s one of the things he finds most endearing about you – that your smile never fades and you never forget about the simple, little things in life to focus on to keep your sanity after facing curse after curse.

He’s fine, he tells himself. Satoru may be annoying, but he knows you could have fun with him, and you deserved to be happy more than anyone else.

Nanami is about to fall asleep on his couch when his phone vibrates on the coffee tables. Groaning, he flicks off the towel to his shoulders, grumbling about how Principal Yaga better be respecting his day off, but the last thing he expects to see is your contact name flashing on the screen. In the contact photo, you’re winking with a peace sign held above your head.

You look so utterly adorable Nanami just wants to kiss you. He remembers this photo was taken when Yuuji got bored and asked to play games on his phone. Upon finding that there was none – of course there was none – the strawberry-haired student opted for taking pictures of everyone instead. There’s one with Nobara growling, Megumi sipping his boba-tea with dead eyes as if he’s so done with the world, more than twenty pictures of Satoru flexing his muscles and posing like an idiot, and then there’s yours.

Nanami remembers staring at his phone for a solid minute, his gallery actually blessed with your face in it. The sun shines behind you on that photo and you’re absolutely shining. He thinks that’s when he truly fell in love.

And it just so happened the love of his life is calling, making his heart skip a beat because shouldn’t you be with Gojo? Why were you calling him? Did something wrong happen?

Nanami doesn’t waste another second before swiping the green icon, already standing up from the couch as he grabs his jacket. He had this weird inkling something is wrong, why else would you call him?

His theories are proven true when your voice comes out shaky. “H-hello?”

“Good evening,” he greets stiffly, brows furrowed as he listens in on the way you seem to be shuffling around. “Is there something wrong?”

“I, uhm,” he hears you sniffle through the other line, “Yeah, I guess there is…Satoru just texted he can’t come because Principal Yaga suddenly sent him to a mission overseas…and then I just realized that Satoru’s been summoned by the elders and he’s just refusing to show up, so now they cornered him, I guess… anyways, I’m talking too much and I don’t want to be a bother, but would you maybe…like to hang out with me?”

Nanami’s hand freezes on the doorknob. “Hang out…professionally?”

He immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead for that. Out of all things he could’ve said, he just had to utter something unintelligent. He hears you snicker in the background and Nanami’s ears redden. 

He quickly regains his composure with a clear of his throat, suddenly remembering that Satoru’s ditched you, so now you’re asking him instead. It kind of feels like he’s just a replacement, but Nanami buries this feeling down before it consumes him, wondering if he’s already regretting changing into better clothes because he actually agreed to go to a carnival with you.

Upon hearing your happy, “Okay! I’ll wait for you then!”, Nanami realizes that he doesn’t actually mind. Especially not with you.

The carnival is loud.

Nanami dreads the moment he steps out of his car, his body swallowed by the bustling crowd and defeaning music of banging drums and clashing instruments. There’s a hundred scents everywhere – smoke, fish, glazed apples – he doesn’t know where to begin or how to focus.

He nearly turns back to his hair, about to shoot you a text that maybe this is beyond him after all. His head begins to spin when he’s only pushed deeper into the crowd, people bumping into him with every single second and it’s so suffocating. It doesn’t make sense to him how anyone could possibly go on a date like this and enjoy it. He knows for sure this chaos won’t let him enjoy his date’s presence because he’s too busy trying to get away from it all.

Nanami staggers for a bit when a strong hand tugs him to the side. Soon, he finds himself pressed flush against you in a tight corner, your hips warm on his. “Hi,” you breathe out airily, lashes fanning and fluttering in that same manner that always made his heart do complete flips.

“Hello,” he greets back with a small bow out of faux respect, but really, he’s just keeping his head down because you look so beautiful in that moment he doesn’t even know where to look. You’re warm and soft next to his hard and stiff muscles, the scent of roses and vanilla mixing in with the street smoke and Nanami’s head grows dizzy, his hand around yours tightening for comfort. “Y/N…I do not prefer this crowd. Can I take you back home instead? You must be tired – I’ll prepare dinner for you.”

Nanami blinks back in surprise when he sees you nod, a slight grimace on your face, and you practically bury your face in his bicep as you groan, “It’s too noisy for me too. Let’s just hang out at your place.”

So you end up in his immaculately clean apartment, admiring and staring at the boring furniture. Nanami changes into more comfortable clothes and whips out something to cook, not wanting to feed you measly take out when you’re probably famished. He watches with side glances as you pick up a photo of him with his parents when he was younger, cooing and giggling at the baby version of him.

“Nanamin, you’re so cute!”

Nanami scoffs and turns back to the heated water in the bowl, arms hard as they cross against his chest covered with an apron. “Please do not call me cute. I am anything but.”

“No, you’re really cute,” you insist, but after seeing Nanami’s flustered frown, you eventually give up and give the poor man a break. Later, you wobble next to him, watching with curious eyes and a small smile as he adds the vegetables into the soup, moving expertly as he diced up the onions to the side. The sheer focus and attention on his daily tasks makes him falter, and he suddenly finds it so hard to function now.

“Why are you staring at me? Is there something so interesting about slicing up onions?”

“No, not really,” you say absentmindedly, the slight plop of the ingredients echoing. “It’s just – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way. Domestic, I mean, but it looks good on you,” you nod to yourself, and Nanami finds himself struggling to act as if your presence wasn’t making him go crazy while he proceeds to cook. “In fact, everything looks good on you, and I find you really interesting!”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, assisting him silently with mixing the bowl even when he didn’t ask you to. Unaware that he’s now focused on you, watching you cook with him with you pressed up against his side, almost as if it’s right where you belong, Nanami feels the same with you. You also look good being this domestic with him, and he suddenly blurts out, “Would you like to stay with me? Like this?”

Your eyes slide over his in a slow fashion, slow enough that his brain hotwires at the fear maybe he’s said something wrong. But Nanami immediately swallows it down, huffing and turning away from you with that stoic expression again. “Forgive me. That was weird—”

“Why would it be weird?” you laughed to yourself before bumping your hips with his, “You’re the one who invited me here. Of course I want to stay.”

That’s…that’s not what he means.

Nanami is left staring openly at you while you help him set the table and you proceed to talk about how you didn’t really want to go to the carnival but Satoru insisted you’d have fun, so you went anyway even if you’d much prefer to be somewhere else. He’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your lips move and how you swing the house slippers on your big toe, your legs crossed on top of another and your figure slightly hunched across from him.

You look so comfortable and welcomed in his home that it puts him at ease too, not worried that he has to impress you anything because it’s you, and Nanami could actually be vulnerable enough to laugh with you over a bowl of vegetable soup.

It’s fine, he lies to himself again, it’s fine that you don’t know he likes you even if he tends to slip and be obvious sometimes. Because at least you’re with him in that moment, and he lies to himself again that it’s fine, that maybe next time he’ll tell you, but he doesn’t worry about. How could he worry about it when you’re snorting so loud over a lame joke he said that rice nearly came out your nose, and he’s so drunk over the sound of your bubbly laughter that something flutters deep within his belly?

When you help him wash the dishes and bask in the silence instead, comfortable over the lack of words and nothing but the sound of his faucet running and the slight rubbing of towels against dishes heard in the background, Nanami is unsure whether he’s glad that Satoru ditched you on your first date.

It doesn’t stop there.

Nanami only keeps falling in love with you more. He’s been doing a good job of keeping his feelings to himself because the last thing he wants is to have you stay away from him, but Satoru was really getting on his nerves.

He’s just come back from exorcising a curse when he sees you and Satoru play-wrestling in the field with the other students. Megumi is grumbling to himself in the corner, Yuuji is laughing and cheering on you to tackle down his sensei who’s currently going down in high-pitched laughter, Toge pumping his fists and screaming, “Salmon, salmon!”

It’s a chaotic sight – one that he usually doesn’t mind – until you finally pin Satoru down on the ground, your ass above his crotch. Satoru’s hands then come up to squeeze your ass and hips under the false pretense he’s struggling to push you off him, but Nanami knows better.

“Give up already!” you tease the other sorcerer who’s still wriggling underneath you, and Nanami sees it before it happens.

Satoru’s legs bend beneath you and he tries to pin you under him in quick movements, but Nanami is faster, his reflexes taking over. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Nanami tugs you and pulls you forward until you collide on his chest. He’s breathing hard, eyes narrowed at the arrogant smirk painted on Satoru’s features. Meanwhile, you’ve softened in Nanami’s grip, hands fisting his shirt that has him hardening up out of sheer protectiveness.

“Oh, Nanamin!” Satoru beams while wiping the dirt on his hands across his uniform, “Glad to see you here. You wanna join training too?”

“This is hardly training,” he retorts with a clenched jaw, “You’re harassing and disrespecting your fellow sorcerer because you can never keep your dirty hands to yourself,” before Satoru could defend himself, he’s already all over you, his hand tilting your chin side to side to check for any injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did this bastard do anything else?”

“No, not really—”

“Why do you care so much, Nanamin?” Satoru teases, and the students all huddle to watch the commotion. Everyone can feel the tension rising, and Nanami only stiffens up further when he feels you lean closer to his warmth almost absentmindedly. “She and I were just playing around, no hard feelings, no foul play. We’re just having fun, right, Y/N?”

“She is not someone you can just have fun with, Satoru. You’ve already crossed the line when you ditched her on your first date, and you didn’t even bother texting or calling back when I drove her home. It’s disrespectful, and she deserves better than that.”

“Nanami—”

“I was busy,” Satoru sighs dramatically, “And if she deserves better than me, then who would it be? I can take care her of her, you know, she and I have been besties for like what, a year now? I’ll be good to her,” he smirks, and Nanami wants nothing more than to punch him square in the jaw. “Besides, it’s not like she’s dating anyone else. She’s single and ready to mingle—”

“Maybe she is, but I’m not,” Nanami deadpans, his harsh tone shocking everyone.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you squeak under him, and Nanami falls silent. He’s never thought of confessing to you, especially not this way, and Nobara is biting Yuuji’s jacket behind them to muffle her squeals. Panda is clapping his hands and whispers oh, here we go, followed by Toge’s salmon salmon.

It dawns on him now that everyone knows he likes you after all, and now that he’s confronted with the situation, he can’t run away from it. Not that Nanami plans on running away, for he is a man and his pride doesn’t allow him to evade situations like this.

He just wishes it could’ve gone out better.

“Forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable,” Nanami releases his grip on you, loosening his tie that makes him feel like he’s choking both on air and his words. Through his cool stature, he’s actually sweating inside his clothes, and it doesn’t help you’re patient with him too, head tilted to the side curiously and so horribly cutely he might combust. “But I have always been, and I still am, utterly in love with you.”

Nobara and Yuuji no longer hold back as they scream to themselves, the former slapping the latter in his back while Megumi only shakes his head, muttering “about time,” under his breath. Maki snickers to herself and Satoru is stunned, but it’s nothing compared to the way you shrink under his gaze for a moment.

He believes you’re going to run away from him because of his blatant confession; it wasn’t romantic at all, and the kids are still screaming too loudly for him to form coherent thoughts.

Nanami begins to form a deep bow, ready to apologize wholeheartedly and to politely ask you to forget this if you wish – he would respect your decision. But just as his gaze met the ground, he’s thrown off balance as you jump on him, soft glossy lips crashing into his.

The screams and cheers of everyone are suddenly drowned out when he feels your lips molding onto his, and he can feel you smiling happily, giggling while his hands tentatively run down your hips to hold you close. It’s unprofessional, displeasing, and downright horrendous to be kissing someone during work hours while the students are watching, especially because his clothes are crumpled from your eager touch and you’re on top of his chest, but Nanami absolutely doesn’t give a single fuck because he’s kissing you back fervently.

It’s what he’s always wanted – you’re the one he’s always wanted, and now that he has you in his hold, he’s not easily letting you go.

“See? I told you guys,” Satoru proudly puffs his chest up in the background, “All Nanamin needs is a little push.”

[adorerdraco]

Whole Lot of Red ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Sneaky meet ups with Draco where nobody knows the two of you have a thing for the other until the day he sees someone flirting with you and lets his jealousy get the best of him. AU where its around seventh year and Voldermort never existed so Draco never got traumatized !

Warnings: light smut/hinted smut, jealous/possessive-ish Draco, a little more mature themes 

Words: 1.8K

A/N: aging him UP for this one ! and making draco a tad rude bc the way i picture it is just WOW also i like to try to change up the way i write him sometimes :) also couldn’t find this gif anywhere so if it looks low quality its bc i made it >:( i want so badly for him to walk up to me like thaaaat anyways I HOPE THIS IS GOOD

It was a funny thing, feelings, and the way they blossomed in places they had no business being in. Those very specific stomach churning butterflies and skipped heartbeats were unmistakably there every time you found yourself in the Slytherin Prince’s presence. It was a shame really, you had never even given him the time of day prior to the time you were forced to work on a Charms project together but now here you were; completely and undeniably entranced by him. 

Your group of y/h friends and you were gathered in the foyer outside the Great Hall, the doors wide open and welcoming students for the lunch that was going to be served in just a few minutes. Your friends were lost in conversation and you couldn’t be happier as your focus darted around the room hoping to spot the platinum mop of hair.

Out of sheer coincidence, a boisterous group of Slytherins had entered the foyer from the direction of the dungeons, all talking loudly and jokingly pushing each other as they came into view. Your eyes landed on the laughing blond in the middle, his toothy grin almost twinkling under the sunlight that streamed in through the large medieval windows. His gaze wandered around the room for a moment before stopping on you, the smile on his face morphing into a smug knowing smirk. 

A shivering weakness shot up your legs, your heart doing somersaults in your stomach as you recalled the previous night. It involved you sneaking out of the common room to meet Draco in a dark and hidden corner of the castle in the dead hours of night, his Prefect duties long finished and a looming fear of getting caught by Filch. It was you being backed into said corner, his body flush against your quivering one, a strong hand clamped tightly over your mouth to muffle the whimpers that unwillingly left your mouth as his lips left trails of wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and chest. It was his knee in between your legs, pushing you harder against the wall as your hands got tangled in his hair while he held your face in place by your jaw, whispering compliments and desires into your ear with kisses to it in between, smiling coyly to himself when he heard the small gasps of pleasure coming from you.

All this was because of a simple charms project, the two of you forced to spend a couple weeks together where it was constant bickering and malicious teasing until the tension between the two of you had gotten so overwhelmingly strong it was suffocating. It had gotten so unbearable that one day, Draco finally had enough as you were reading something out of your textbook for him, suddenly knocking it out of your hands and scooting closer to you on the shared bench, his minty breath hot against your face and darkening gray eyes flickering from your lips to your widened e/c’s as he whispered a breathless, “can I kiss you?” 

Post study make out sessions quickly turned into sneaking away from friends throughout the day which finally led into slipping out of common rooms to meet at night. No one ever noticed nor caught on to the two of you, the both of you keeping it a secret so you wouldn’t have to deal with people’s undesired two cents. 

As much as you enjoyed the hands on affection, you found yourself liking the intimacy afterwards even more. You looked forward to sitting down somewhere with him, his arms wrapped warmly around your body as you asked about each other’s day that branched out into talking about anything and everything. You would skip back to your room afterwards, smiling from ear to ear with your head in the clouds until one day it dawned on you; you were in a sticky situation of constantly wondering “what are we?”

You never dared to ask him though, terrified of his answer and that he would leave you in the dust for even bringing it up. In all your years at Hogwarts, you’ve never seen Draco with a girlfriend, he was the most well-known boy at school, an arrogant and proud Slytherin, a skilled quidditch seeker, and an irresistible flirt. But never having the title of ‘the boyfriend’, despite the countless girls that hung off his arms nearly begging for his attention.

“Y/N,” your friend broke you out of your thoughts, a sly smile on her face as she elbowed your side. “Your little friend is headed this way.”

You looked at her in confusion, turning your attention towards the tall Gryffindor, Trevor, that was walking towards your small group, a bright smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on you. Your friends giggled teasingly, already knowing what his presence would ensue. He was nice, but annoying as he relentlessly flirted with you every time you had your Transfigurations class with him. You just chose to ignore him even though he always ended up sitting next to you or around you no matter how many times you moved. He was someone who you complained restlessly about to your group which caused them to laugh and poke fun every time he would come up to you around them.

“Y/L/N!” He said happily, attempting to give you a hug as he came up to you which you only begrudgingly returned with a lazy side hug. He took your hand, leading you a few feet away from your group so he could talk to you privately. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the library after lunch to study for our test later this week?”

“Oh,” you trailed off, trying to come up with an excuse but in the midst of your thoughts you remembered you had already made plans with Draco. Speaking of, you had forgotten he was only across the room, unbeknownst to you that he was staring hard at you and your classmate. “I’m busy today.”

“How about after tomorrow?” He asked again hopefully. “We can even go to Hogsmeade after, butterbeers on me!”

You frowned slightly, knowing that this was not a friendly collegiate conversation, but another ploy to try and get you to go out with him. His attempts were increasing week by week and you denied him every single time yet he never got the hint.

“Still busy,” you smiled at him, hoping that if you were to appear nice, it would soften the continuous blow of rejection.

“I’m not going to stop asking until you say yes,” he sighs, hands slipping into the pockets of his robe as he longingly looked down at you. “You might as well give in.”

His hand came up towards your hair, a skinny finger brushing through a strand of your hair as he pulled a small fluff of lint from your robes before flicking it into the air. You stood frozen in place, the gesture being painstakingly too much for your comfort and borderline creepy coming from him.

Draco felt himself shake with anger, the sight of you smiling at the Gryffindor and that he was running his fingers through your hair made his blood boil. Greeting the git with a hug. You being led away from your friends by your hand. He hated the sight. The thought of any man other than him being so close to you made him feel sick to his stomach, a rage sparking from deep within him he never even knew existed. He watched as you looked up at the boy above you, a weird expression on your face that instantly let him know you were uncomfortable.

That was it for him. He was seeing red as he threw his schoolbooks into Crabbe’s hands, pushing aggressively past a pair of boys that were in his way as he power walked towards you and your classmate.

“Didn’t you ever learn to keep your hands to yourself?” Draco called out condescendingly in his haughty accent, his scowl deepening as he approached. Trevor’s head snapped towards Draco, a frown etching itself onto his face.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Trevor sneered. “Go find someone else to bother.”

“Take your own advice, filth,” Draco shot back.

“Filth? You’re one to talk,” the Gryffindor chortled. By now, everyone within a few feet of the debacle was watching, entertained at the argument that was beginning to unfold, your friends and Draco’s goons staring oddly at the encounter. You only stood there, looking between both boys towering over you in a daze that left you paralyzed in your spot. You were so close to telling off Trevor before Draco came, feeling grateful at your delayed reaction now that he was there defending you.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” Draco threatened, stepping in between you and Trevor as he spoke. “Leave Y/N alone, or I swear you’ll regret it.”

“Why? You think she’d pick you over me?” He snickered. “We’ll see who’s the one feeling regretful when you find her making that decision.”

By now, Trevor had stepped up to the spiteful Slytherin, getting in his face with a patronizing smile. Draco’s face twisted up in anger as his temper got worse, shoving his competition back with the side of his forearm, feeling satisfied when Trevor stumbled back.

“Funny,” he laughed darkly, “I seem to remember her already making that decision every single day while we’re snogging.”

Multiple gasps can be heard throughout the foyer, including your own as you gaped up at the blond, his eyes staying focused on Trevor as he looked taken aback.

“You trying to say she’s your girlfriend?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Your legs nearly gave out below you at his response. This was everything you had been hoping for recently, except not like this. But that still didn’t stop you from feeling giddy, however, the bliss of his revelation filling your entire body with glee. The ‘what are we?’ question being ripped from your mind with relief.

“Is that true?” Trevor asks you, a devastated look glazing over his eyes as you slowly nodded. He gives Draco one more pointed look, bumping shoulders with him before he stalked off into the Great Hall in a rush, everyone scattering around to go inside as well now that the show was over.

Draco turned to peer down at you, fury draining from his body as he admired you. He cupped your cheek, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the opposite side of your face before whispering hotly into your ear.

“If he tries anything with you again, let me know and I swear I’ll deal with him,” he pulls back from you, smiling at you innocently. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

And with that, he sends you a wink, turning around to saunter over to his eager minions while your friends immediately rush towards you with a million questions that you would inevitably have to answer. This was not at all how you expected the day to turn out, not in the slightest.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 8714 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, blood, severe injuries, fear, anxiety, death of a character A/N: This is the FINAL part of a miniseries! You can find the other chapters on the Masterlist! Summary: Y/N and Shane go missing.

Your name: submit What is this?

Two weeks later

“I can actually do it myself,” you insisted, feeling a blush in your cheeks as Daryl pulled your hand over onto his lap and bent over it, luckily oblivious to the pink glow now filling your cheeks.

He huffed at you. “I’m sure ya can,” he drawled, “but it’s definitely easier for someone with two hands, don’t ya think?”

You watched as he methodically and carefully snipped the stitches in your hand and pulled the sutures away, apologizing if they tugged at all. A lot had happened in the last two weeks. Pretty much everyone had come around to the fact that Shane had hurt himself in an attempt to get the group to abandon you. There had been a massive fight between him and Rick and since then Shane had been confined to his tent while he healed. When Hershel found out what had happened, he told Rick that Shane couldn’t stay, but Rick had already decided that he had go. His best friend seemed to be growing more bitter and more unstable by the day.

But Shane was still around temporarily, and because of that Daryl had refused to leave you to sleep unguarded at night. You’d argued that it would be fine and that you didn’t really think Shane would try to pull anything else, but the archer was insistent. Eventually, you caved. Daryl had hauled your cot and bedding to his tent and set them up along the opposite wall from his, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck at the strange nervousness and yet gratitude he felt knowing you’d be so close.

You both fell into an easy routine together. Your physical closeness may have been borne out of necessity but the other growing closeness developed organically. Spending time with Daryl was easy. He didn’t mind when you were quiet for hours on end, lost in your own head as you aimlessly tossed twigs into the fire. He didn’t mind when you wanted to talk about something specific or nothing at all, and you felt the same way about him. The silences didn’t bother you with Daryl and every time he did open his mouth it was either to make you laugh or to say something you were genuinely interested in hearing. He was constantly checking on you over the smallest things. If you shivered in the evening as you spent time around the fire, he’d insist that you moved closer to the flames or he’d go get a blanket from his tent and toss it down on your lap without a word before he took his place again. He’d make sure you were eating and would refill your canteen whenever he thought about it. You did what you could to return the favors but he usually seemed to beat you to it.

“I guess with these out I can finally start hunting again,” you said. “And going out and gathering stuff.”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, his eyes narrowed as he focused on removing the very last stitch. “There.” He straightened up and looked at the slightly raised pink scar down the center of your palm. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he ran a finger lightly down the length of it.

You startled at the unfamiliar sensation, a little strange due to the altered sensation along the length of the scar, but even more so because of the way your heart jumped at the touch of Daryl’s fingers so light on your palm. You involuntarily pulled you hand back and your eyes shot up to meet his.

He gave you a sheepish look. “Sorry. Did that hurt?” He regretted it the moment he’d done it, worried about your reaction.

You shook your head. “No, it just—”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” you finished quietly, chewing on your bottom lip a little anxiously. He quirked an eyebrow at you but simply stood up.

“Alright. Well, couple more days and that asshole will be outta here,” he growled, glancing over in the direction of Shane’s tent. He wasn’t yet allowing himself to acknowledge that he was worried things would go back to the way they were before once Shane was gone. That is, you’d retreat back to your space and back to yourself. He was really liking his time with you and he didn’t want it to end. The archer shook his head and glanced back at you. Your eyes were now on Shane’s tent, too but your expression was fretful. “S’matter?” he prompted you.

You sighed. “I just feel like it’s my fault he has to leave…”

“Nah. Nah, it ain’t. Y/N, if it weren’t you it’d be somethin’ else. He’s been spiralin’ down since Rick showed up alive and took his family back. It ain’t got nothin’ to do with ya, not really.”

You still looked unsure but the worry lines in your forehead eased a little. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

“Listen, I told Carol I’d go help her with that new tent. Ya gonna be alright over here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm. I’ll be right here. Andrea gave me a new book.” You did glance a little longingly over your shoulder at the far tree line and Daryl was always amazed that even after the traumatic incident in those very same woods that you still wanted to be out there almost every minute of the day.

“Hey,” he said, calling your attention back to him. “We’ll go out and hunt tomorrow, alright?”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.” You watched his broad shoulders fade toward the main camp.

Carol was waiting when Daryl arrived. Her old tent had started to leak and Daryl had promised to help her get the new one they’d found set up. She stood up as he strode over, already flustered by the number of pins and ropes and metal poles. “If I’d known I’d be living out of a tent I definitely would have stuck with the Girl Scouts when I was a kid,” she said, giving Daryl a helpless look.

He let out a gruff laugh. “Ya got that the wrong way around,” he said, pointing to the pole she’d already slipped through the tent. She stared at it and sighed. “S’alright. That’s why I’m here right?” he said. “Gimme that,” he said, grabbing the bundle of poles in her hands and setting to work. In no time they had the tent upright and were going about staking it down. Carol handed Daryl another stake and he pounded it into the ground securing down the corner.

“So… what’s going on with you and Y/N exactly?” she asked him.

The archer froze and shot a look at her before returning his eyes to what he was doing, grateful for a task to focus on even as he felt his ears growing red. “What’d ya mean?”

“Well,” Carol continued, “you’re sharing a tent,” she said with a smile.

Daryl scoffed. “So? I shared a tent with T-dog once. Ya gonna ask me if we held hands?”

Carol laughed and smirked at him. “Well, did you?” Daryl rolled his eyes at her and she laughed harder.

“We’re sharin’ a tent cuz there’s a psycho that probably is blamin’ all his problems on her. And I don’t want shit to go sideways.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just sharing a tent for purely practical reasons,” Carol said. Daryl could hear the skepticism in her voice and he straightened up after tying off the knot to the stake.

“The hell are ya on about?” Daryl growled. But even as he tried to act gruff and brush her off, he felt that heat growing in his chest that was becoming familiar when he thought of you.

“You two just seem to get along,” Carol said. “That’s all.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed, moving to the next corner of the tent. Something about that response made Carol laugh again.

“You’re so sensitive,” she murmured, eliciting an eyeroll from him. “Daryl, I just like to see you happy. And lately, since you’ve been spending so much time with Y/N, you’ve been happy,” she pointed out.

He couldn’t deny that. She was right. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, his hands still on the last length of cord before he tied it off and pounded in the stake. He stood up and stepped back, taking in the structure. “Alright. All done.”

“Thanks,” she said gratefully, surveying it. She gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze and smiled. “Do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, chewing on the side of his thumbnail, glancing up at her.

“If you really like her,” she paused and shrugged, “tell her. Life is short these days.” She knew that as well as anyone. A husband, abusive asshole or not, and a precious little girl were gone to this world.

Daryl only ducked his head and lazily twirled a piece of grass between his fingers. “I’ll see ya,” he murmured, turning and heading back toward his tent. He was expecting you to be sitting beside the fire where you’d been when he left, but that spot was empty. He approached the tent and stopped outside the door. “Y/N? Ya in there?” When there was no answer, he unzipped it and peeked inside. No sign of you. The book that had been in your hand was on the tent floor and he bent and picked it up, setting it on the upturned box that was serving as a nightstand next to your cot. That’s when he realized your knife was there. He’d been thinking maybe you had to go use the bathroom, but you never left camp without your knife at your hip, whether it was for two minutes or two hours. And it wasn’t like you to leave a book on the ground. You treated the damn things like they were some sacred tomes. He felt panic start to grow in his chest and left the tent in a hurry, his blue eyes scanning the area where everyone else was set up and the tree line. He didn’t see you anywhere.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and took off running toward the main camp. He found Lori and Carol preparing some food for dinner and stopped beside them. “Hey—have ya’ll seen Y/N anywhere? She come through here at all?” He directed the question at Lori since Carol had been busy with him getting the tent set up.

She stood up and dusted her hands off on her jeans, shaking her head. Her eyes went a little wide with worry as she registered the deep concern on Daryl’s face. “No, I—I haven’t seen her. You can’t find her?”

Daryl didn’t even stay to answer. He just tore off in the direction of the farmhouse and bounded up onto the front porch. Glenn and Maggie both stood up at the expression on his face. “Ya’ll see Y/N? Did she come up here?”

Maggie shook her head. “No,” Glenn answered, immediately worried. “What’s going on?”

Daryl swore under his breath and paced a restless circle, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “I—I was gone for maybe an hour helpin’ Carol and now I can’t find her anywhere. She wouldn’ta gone off without her knife or nothin’,” he said. His jaw clenched and Glenn watched the muscle twitch. Daryl’s eyes quickly landed on the tent Shane was confined to and he took off at a full sprint toward it. Glenn was on his heels now.

“Daryl! Daryl, take it easy!” Glenn yelled after him. It drew the attention of the rest of the group and soon Rick and Andrea were standing beside Glenn as Daryl ripped back the entrance to Shane’s tent.

Daryl’s stomach twisted. Shane’s tent was empty. He kicked out at a milk crate that had some of Shane’s things on it and it toppled over. “Shane’s gone and Y/N is missin’!” he roared at Rick.

Rick gulped. A hard pit formed in his stomach. “Daryl—Daryl, just calm down,” Rick said.

That had the opposite effect. “Calm down? Calm down?!” he roared. “This ain’t no coincidence! I told ya he didn’t deserve to stay here to heal up, and now look what’s happened!”

“We’ll find them! We’ll find them. We will. Just—”

“Nah. I’m gonna track that fuckin’ prick and if he’s laid so much as a finger on her, he’s a dead man.” Daryl took off without another word, racing back to the last place he’d seen you, his eyes scanning the ground the whole way, hoping for a track, a trail, something.

“Dale, get the guns,” Rick said. “Lori, you and Carol take Carl up to the house and see if you can wait inside with Hershel and the girls.” Lori nodded and gave Carol’s arm a gentle squeeze. Rick rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face.

Andrea was stunned. “What do we do?”

Rick shut his eyes for a moment and pulled in a breath. “We get our guns and we look. We hope Daryl can pick up a trail and we hope we aren’t too late.”

You had been sitting contentedly by the fire reading when you decided you wanted some tea. You knew there were still some dried spicebush leaves in your pack from your last foraging trip and you went in to get them. You were crouched beside your pack, digging in the pocket when you heard a metallic sound that was easily identifiable. It was the slide of a pistol being drawn back and released, a bullet moving into the chamber. You froze with your hands in your pack and slowly turned. You could see Shane outside the window netting and his gun was aimed right at you.

“Get up. Slowly. Leave all your shit.”

You gulped and did so, replacing your pack against the wall and abandoning your book on the floor.

“Come over here. Zip the tent up and don’t even think about trying anything because I will kill you right here,” Shane growled, and you believed him. “Let’s go. Now.”

Again, you complied. You glanced desperately toward the main camp, hoping with every part of you that Daryl would be headed back or somehow happen to look over and see what was happening, but you knew you didn’t have any options except to comply. Comply and hope for an opening to save yourself.

Shane’s gun was still trained on you as you stepped around the outside of the tent. He was gritting his teeth in anger as you stared back at him. You were determined to remain calm and in control.

He nudged the barrel of his gun in the direction of the tree line. “Move. Let’s go.”

You felt sick, knowing that once you went into those trees the chance that you would ever come back out was low. But what choice did you have? He had a fucking gun on you and you had nothing.

You made your way toward the woods. Shane pressed the muzzle into your back. “Faster. And don’t even think about making a fucking sound. I will shoot you right here. I don’t even care. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about you going all psycho-killer. Wouldn’t have to worry about Lori anymore. Or Carl.”

You bit your tongue to stop a retort.

Soon, you were under the dark canopy of trees, cloaked in shade and moving further in with Shane’s gun at your back. He was nervous, on edge, and understandably so, because you knew if Daryl caught him… he’d be dead in an instant. You decided your best course of action was to try to reason with him. You really did believe that he was just fucked up from being in love with a woman he couldn’t have. This was all misplaced blame and aggression. He really wanted to fuck Rick up, but that loyal part of him, that police partner, wouldn’t let him. Some part of him couldn’t bear to do that to Carl and Lori, even while another part of him was desperate to. You were an easy target, the next best thing to blame for his failed attempts to get back into the place he wanted to be, to regain some control, to prove he knew best and was still The Protector. If he had been able to show everyone that you were really a threat and that he and not Rick had taken care of it, he really thought maybe that would win Lori over. But that had all backfired. Now you were just easy to blame for all his problems.

“Shane, I know this isn’t really what you want,” you said quietly.

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” he growled back, nudging you sharply with the muzzle of his gun again.

“I don’t want you to have to leave either. I know it isn’t fair,” you continued. “You took care of everyone for a while before Rick showed up.”

“I said shut up!” he spat again through clenched teeth. “Ya know what? Sit the fuck down. Right there, against that tree.” He shoved you hard and you stumbled, barely catching yourself with your hands on the large oak before your face would have collided with it.

You obeyed and sat with your back against the tree, gulping at the dryness in your throat, and turning to stare directly at the gun pointed in your face.

Something about how calm you were being, how steady, was completely freaking Shane the fuck out. He wanted you to snap. He wanted to be able to say that he was right about you and you were a danger to everyone in camp, like you were some unpredictable monster. But you just sat there looking up at him, now completely silent, your eyes flickering between the muzzle of his gun and his face. Shane swore under his breath and paced back in forth in front of you. Your eyes followed his movements. You bided your time, trying to come up with something that would defuse this whole situation.

“How is this going to fix anything?” you asked him. “This is only going to make everything worse.”

He didn’t stop pacing and occasionally shooting a look at you that made your blood run cold. You were starting to think that maybe there was no reasoning with him…

“You can just let me go. I’ll just tell everyone I needed to get out of camp for a bit. You can wander back in like nothing happened,” you said.

He pointed the gun at you again and his lip curled. “There’s no going back from this. No going back from everything that’s already happened. And I know there is something wrong with you. I know it. If I’m not going to be here to keep an eye on you, I need to end this now so you can’t hurt anyone. Because I know you will snap eventually. I saw what you did to those men.” Shane got right into your face, poking you in the shoulder with the muzzle of his gun.

“I was defending myself,” you said quietly, feeling guilty and horrified at yourself even as you tried to justify it to Shane.

“So you say,” he growled, his pistol now aimed at your forehead.

“If I was going to snap like you’re saying, wouldn’t now be a good time?” you said quietly. “Obviously you’re a threat to me. But I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

He scoffed and straightened up again, resuming his pacing. “What—what the hell happened to you, huh? What fucked up thing twisted you to the point where you could do what you did to those men? Do you even remember it? Do you even know how many times you stabbed them?” he pressed. He was trying to agitate you, but it didn’t work.

Your stomach was churning with the foggy memory of being covered in their blood, of seeing their corpses on the ground, but you only stared back at Shane. No way in hell you were divulging what you’d been through to Shane, gunpoint or not.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and you watched as the muscle in his jaw clenched. He charged toward you again. “You know what? I’m done with this,” he growled. He pressed the gun to your forehead, aiming at a downward angle. The metal bit into your skin. You stared up at him briefly, eyes wide but surprisingly calm, and Shane watched in some disbelief as you finally just shut them and seemed to resign yourself to the fact that you were about to die.

That hesitation was all you needed.

You shoved Shane’s arm away and the gun with it and snatched the knife at his hip, ripping it free from its sheath and slashing at him, leaving a good gash on his arm. But a knife wouldn’t be any match for Shane with a gun. He was a firearm instructor and you knew his aim was deadly accurate, so before he could entirely recover from his surprise you ran at him full force and the two of fell to the ground hard. The pistol flew from his hands and landed in the leaf little a few feet away. You began to crawl desperately toward it, trying to put distance between you and Shane as quickly as possible, but you let out a yell as you felt him grab hold of you and pull you back.

The next thing you knew he was over you, trying his hardest to get the knife from your hand. You were slashing at him desperately, catching him on the forearms as you struggled beneath him. You caught him with a particularly strong slash but the next moment he had your hands pinned in his and he wrenched the knife from you. The rush of blood was loud in your ears and now you were on the defensive. You shielded yourself with your arms as best you could and continued to struggle beneath him, but his weight was too much.

Shane suddenly managed to push your arms out of the way and you saw the knife coming toward you as if in slow motion. It was heading straight for the center of your chest. You thrust your left arm out and felt the blade pierce it deeply before ripping clean and lodging in your left shoulder. You let out a scream of pain, but as Shane was now leaning over you, you managed to get your knee up underneath him and thrust it as hard as you could into his groin.

He let out an agonized yell and rolled off you, abandoning the knife that was still lodged deeply in your shoulder. You gritted your teeth and were vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face and the fact that you were trembling. But there was no time to stop. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to live. You clutched at the knife in your shoulder, staring briefly with shock at how deeply it was embedded, but didn’t dare to pull it out. Rolling over and holding yourself up on your lacerated forearms, you fixed your eyes on the gun and made a desperate lunge for it. You felt hands on your legs again, dragging you back.

Back toward the edge of the tree line, Daryl had picked up the trail easily and was frantically tracking. Rick and the others were on his heels, glancing around nervously, straining their eyes in the veiled darkness beneath the canopy and their ears in the closeness of the trees. But it wasn’t long that they had to trail behind the archer because soon a strained yell made it to their ears. Daryl felt his blood run cold.

He paused hardly for a moment before he tore off through the trees in the direction he’d heard your voice echo from. “Y/N!” He wanted you to know he was on his way. He needed you to just hang on. He pushed himself to run through the nausea that had risen when that sound, your pained voice, had met his ears. He tore through the foliage, the sound of pounding boots on the soil loud behind him as the others followed.

“Daryl! Daryl, slow down! We can’t just—” Rick paused as he had to bust through some shrubs. “We can’t just barrel in there!” But it was as if the archer hadn’t heard anything. He just continued running, trying to listen over his own gasping breath and pounding pulse but simultaneously afraid of what he would hear.

Crack.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Daryl skidded to a stop, frozen. His face blanched, almost ashen as Rick caught up and glanced over at him. Sweat was pouring down from their foreheads and running down their necks, soaking the thin cotton of their shirts. A small strangled noise escaped Daryl’s lips as he searched the ground frantically again for the trail, needing to know he was running in the right direction. He spotted it. Direction confirmed, he took off at an even madder pace than before. “Y/N!” There was no answer.

But he couldn’t allow himself to think the worst. He couldn’t. That couldn’t happen to you. After everything you’d already been through… how could he have let this happen? Why had he turned his back on you for even a minute with that prick still around? He felt shaky and weak even as he ran.

The group had just pushed through another thick swath of understory when Daryl saw a bundle ahead, lying motionless on the ground. His breath caught in his throat and his boots rooted into the soil for a moment. But he pushed himself to move forward again.

Behind him he was vaguely aware of a gasp from Andrea and some murmur from Glenn.

As he moved closer, he realized there was a second shape ahead and as his eyes refocused, he saw that it was you. You were leaned up against a big oak tree, propped up against the rough bark, your head lolled toward your chest. Some pained gasp or muted scream, catching mostly in his throat, left his lips before he tore off toward you again. As he fell to his knees beside you, he took in the soaked crimson of your shirt. Your arms were cut up and absolutely covered in blood. Then Daryl’s eyes landed on the hilt of the knife still embedded in your left shoulder. His hands shook as he hesitated before lifting your chin, terrified that your skin would be cold and lifeless. You were bruised and battered, bleeding from a swollen and split lip and a gash near your hairline, but there was some semblance of warmth still in your skin, though you were pale. More miraculously yet, when he gently lifted your chin, you started to stir and Daryl watched in desperation as you struggled to open your eyes, eventually succeeding.

“Hey, hey. S’alright. I’ve got ya. I’ve got ya…” He could hear his own voice shake as he spoke.

You gulped, wanting to clear the taste of iron from your mouth. “I had to,” you managed to croak out. “I had to.”

Daryl knew you were referring to Shane’s lifeless body behind him on the ground. “S’ok. It don’t matter. Don’t talk now, alright? Just rest. I’ve got ya.”

Daryl felt someone behind him and turned to see Glenn just behind him. His face was pale as he took in your condition. “Her shoulder... Oh my God,” Glenn gasped.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Daryl said forcefully. He carefully slid his arm behind your back and another underneath your knees. You were fighting to stay awake. “Daryl…” you murmured. You felt so small in his arms as he lifted you. Daryl was vaguely aware of your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it hard before you fell unconscious again, going limp in his arms. He turned and started heading back to the farm, moving as quickly as he dared with you in his arms, conscious of the knife still wedged cruelly into you. The sight of it protruding from you made him sick with rage. Rick was kneeling beside Shane, his face downturned, as Daryl breezed past. Andrea stood just behind him with a hand pressed over her mouth, watching as Daryl carried your bloodied body past her.

As Daryl’s broad shoulders disappeared, Glenn bent and retrieved the pistol lying on the leaf litter among streaks of your blood. It felt like a lead weight in his palm.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl sat slumped in a chair beside your prone form laid out on the bed, covered over in the blankets. He was leaned over forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped so tightly that his knuckles shone white.

After days of agonizing waiting, there was a soft noise from you and his eyes shot up urgently to see you stirring a little on the pillow. He rocketed to his feet so fast that the chair he’d been in clattered backward loudly to the floor. “Doc!” he yelled out. Hershel rushed in a moment later.

You dragged your eyelids open with a great amount of effort and the first thing you saw were Daryl’s piercing blue eyes looking down at you with immense concern. You moistened your lips with your tongue and cleared your throat, which felt dry and scratchy, preparing to speak. He watched as your expression melted into a veil of confusion. “I’m not… not dead?”

Daryl felt a painful pang in his chest as he watched you spinning with disbelief.

Hershel leaned over you with a kindly and somewhat sad expression on his face. “You most definitely are not. Though you surprised all of us after what you went through,” he said putting a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder.

Your eyes turned back to Daryl’s. “Shane—” His name seemed to strangle and catch in your throat. “I—”

“I know. Ya had to. S’alright,” Daryl drawled, his brow furrowing low over his eyes.

You mouthed wordlessly for a moment, your eyes brimming with tears. “Is he—did he—?”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, his expression full of concern. “He’s gone.”

You felt that you already knew the answer but it still made your stomach churn. You laid more heavily into the pillow and shut your eyes, a pained expression crossing your face. When your eyes finally fluttered open again they were still a little glassy. Daryl wondered at this display of remorse, of regret you had for a man who had clearly taken you into the woods to kill you.

But what Daryl saw next was you clearly struggling against some flashback. You squeezed your eyes shut and your breathing quickened. Beads of sweat broke out on your hairline and your face tensed.

Daryl’s hand shot out to gently grab yours before he even knew what he was doing. “Hey.” He gave it a gentle squeeze. “Y/N. S’alright. You’re safe,” he drawled.

Your eyes opened and you glanced down at your hand in his. Daryl withdrew, suddenly self-conscious. You nodded and seemed to come back to the present.

You reached across yourself to grip your left shoulder, a wave of pain running through you and a grimace tightening your features. You felt thick gauze beneath your fingers. As you moved you became aware that you had many little rows of stitches on your arms and a few gashes wrapped up in bandages as well. Even your hands were cut up from your attempts to defend yourself. You extended your arm in front of yourself and took in the damage done by Shane’s knife.

“I don’t understand,” you said softly. “I thought for sure I was going to die out there.” The way you said it was so matter-of-fact and Daryl felt a rush of anger overwhelm him for a moment. Shane was lucky he was dead when Daryl had gotten there… He’d gotten off easy with a single round to the chest.

Hershel nodded. “You have a lot of strength in you. Rest. Everything is going to be just fine. You’re going to heal up and be back to normal before you know it, though that shoulder may need a little extra TLC.” The doctor took his leave and your eyes found Daryl’s again. He read worry on your face.

“What is it?” he drawled.

You gulped. “I’ll leave as soon as I’m healed up,” you said, now avoiding his eyes.

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Why the hell would ya do that?”

His tone was forceful again and drew your eyes back to his. “The others—after what happened, I can’t imagine they want me around anymore.”

Daryl sighed heavily and righted his chair again, sinking down in it close at your bedside. “For once yer wrong about somethin’,” he said. “Nobody wants ya to leave. Ya didn’t do anything more than defend yourself, just like ya did with those men before. Anyone can glance at ya for one second and see that.”

You shifted in bed, trying to make your injured shoulder more comfortable, laying your other hand over it absently, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek. You still looked unsure.

“Y/N, when we found ya you had a damn knife sticking out of your shoulder.” He paused and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck a little anxiously. “I—” his voice seemed to catch in his throat. “I thought we lost ya.”

You peered at him curiously.

He leaned forward. “Listen to me, if anybody even so much as looks at ya like ya shouldn’t be here, they’ll have to deal with me.”

Daryl watched, a little anxiously, as your lips parted softly. “I’m not sure I deserve that from you,” you finally managed quietly. “You’ve already done enough. Daryl, I suspect you saved my life.” You gulped and stared down toward the edge of the blankets. “In more ways than one…”

The archer averted his eyes down toward his boots and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, nervous and wavering between his insecurity and need to reassure you, not allowing himself to really think on what you’d just said. “Hey. Yer a part of this group, even if ya ain’t always felt like it.”

You studied him for a long moment before you spoke again. “So are you,” you said perceptively. His blue eyes shot up to meet yours and you gave him a weak smile. “Can you do me a favor?”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “’Course.”

“Can—can you help me take a walk outside? I need some air,” you said quietly.

“Are ya sure yer up for that? Ya had surgery on that shoulder. Ya lost a lot of blood. Ya just woke up after bein’ out of it for three days. I don’t think it’s—” Concern creased his forehead.

You nodded. “I’m sure. You won’t let anything bad happen to me. I’ve at least learned that by now.” You felt a bloom of warmth in your chest as you spoke those words, coupled with the realization of their truth almost at the same time as they left your lips. That burst of heat you felt was reflected in a pink hue in the archer’s face and the tips of his ears.

He looked a little bashful but nodded and acquiesced to your request. “Alright. C’mon,” he said, gently taking your hand, avoiding the injuries carefully, and doing his best to ignore how nervous he felt when his fingers closed around it. He helped you out of bed and steadied you as you got to your feet. You glanced up at him, and your expression was so open and earnest he was frankly shocked by it. Could it really be that you were looking that way at him? His fingers were light under your elbow and his other hand was ghosting behind your back, centimeters away from making contact if needed as you started toward the door. “Ya alright?”

You nodded and gulped at the rush of feelings his hand around yours had brought, trying your hardest to ignore it. All you could do was nod. The two of you emerged onto the porch and Glenn and Maggie stood up immediately from their place nearby in the seating area. Both of them were all smiles to see you on your feet.

“You’re up,” Glenn said, looking at you with a bewildered smile. “This is amazing. It’s so good to see you awake!” His expression was nothing but kindness.

“How are you feelin’?” Maggie asked.

You nodded, glancing back over at Daryl and relaxing some as you saw one corner of his mouth was twitched up. His blue eyes were fixed on your face and he couldn’t look away. Seeing you actually awake and already on your feet was a huge relief after many days of sickening worry. “I feel alright. A little tired,” you admitted. Almost as if one cue you wavered a little on your feet, your knees feeling suddenly weak.

Daryl’s hand landed flush against the small of your back, immediately steadying you. “Easy,” he rumbled. “Ya alright?” You nodded, quite sure your cheeks were pink, and when you glanced back at him and mumbled a small “thanks” you thought maybe his cheeks were pink too. You turned back to Glenn and Maggie and your eyes drifted to all the numerous stitches on your arms. “I’m definitely a little worse for wear. But could have been worse…” you trailed off.

“Definitely,” Glenn said, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re all just so glad you’re okay.”

Just at that moment you heard boots on the stairs and you looked up to see Rick, thumbs slung into his pockets as usual. Your heart rate increased with anxiety and you gulped at the sudden tightness in your throat. You’d killed his best friend. You’d pulled the trigger and killed Shane. “I’m sorry,” you said to the Sheriff.

But Rick was smiling at you with tears in his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “This is my fault,” he said suddenly, a rasp in his voice from emotion and your eyes widened in surprise. “This is my fault and I am so sorry. Daryl told me—and I should have listened. Shane was way more of a threat than I was willing to admit. This should have never happened to you,” he drawled. “And I hope you can forgive me at some point.”

You stared at him for a long moment, blinking in the sun and breathing in the freshness of the outside air. “It’s already forgiven,” you said softly, nodding at him.

Daryl stared at you in awe of how, despite everything you’d been through, you still could extend that forgiveness so easily.

Daryl sensed some shift in you and his brow drew down low over his eyes. “Let’s get ya back to bed. C’mon.”

You allowed him to help you back through the farmhouse and even into bed as you struggled not to put any weight on your left shoulder, wincing as you moved. Daryl watched you settled in and stood a bit awkwardly at your bedside. He nervously ran a hand back through his hair. “Well, I’ll let ya get some sleep,” he drawled, turning to leave.

“Daryl.”

He turned back to glance at you and your expression was a bit hesitant. “Hmm?”

“Would you stay? …please?”

He didn’t need to hear anything else. He planted himself right back down in the chair at the side of the bed and watched as some of the tension on your face eased.

“Thanks,” you said quietly with a sigh. Daryl watched as you closed your eyes and shifted, trying to make your shoulder more comfortable, but a moment later your eyes fluttered open again and met his. “He put the gun to my forehead,” you suddenly said quietly.

Daryl’s stomach plummeted and then swirled with anger. He stared back at you, incredulous with rage easily readable on his face.

“I made my peace with the fact that he was going to pull the trigger.” Your voice was somewhat disconnected, distant. “But then… he hesitated. And I took the chance and I fought.”

Daryl gulped. “Ya made it. Yer alright.”

You nodded and looked at him for a long moment, seemingly on the edge of saying something else, but you finally just sighed and your eyelids, now heavy with exhaustion, closed again. Soon, you were asleep. And Daryl stayed at your bedside and drifted off himself. _ _ _ _ _ _

Some time later You tossed down the game stringer, loaded with squirrels, in front of Daryl. “Ten,” you said, a wide grin spreading across your face. “What’d ya get?”

He looked up at you and affected an unamused expression. “Nine,” he drawled, pointing to his harvest waiting to be cleaned.

“Ha! I win again,” you said, absolutely brimming with joy. “I thought you said you were good at hunting?” you teased him.

He rolled his eyes at you and looked over as you sank down beside him. “Ya beat me by one. Ain’t exactly a landslide, is it?”

“A win is a win,” you announced with satisfaction.

He rolled his eyes again, but his expression quickly turned to concern as he caught you rubbing your shoulder. “Sore?” he asked you, his brow drawing down. “Maybe ya shouldn’t be hunting with that bow again yet.”

Your face softened as you caught his blue eyes. “I’m fine. It’s just a little tired, that’s all. Hershel says I need to build my strength up again.” Daryl’s eyes caught on the scar where the knife had been lodged into your shoulder. It was matched by many smaller ones on your arms, all with the same pink hue due to their newness. He could also see the brand on your arm, 1048, the remnant from your time under The Copperheads. Before, you would wear long sleeves in the height of the Georgian summer just to avoid anyone seeing that mark. Now there were a lot more scars added to it, but you didn’t seem to care. It was like you finally had a weight lifted off your shoulders and you felt free for the first time in a long time, unencumbered by your past.

“We should get ya a crossbow, like mine. Then ya wouldn’t have to hold the draw with that shoulder.”

“I like my old-fashioned recurve bow,” you said, pulling it over onto your lap and looking down at it fondly. “Especially because I can still beat you with it,” you smiled at him.

Daryl seemed suddenly fidgety and you picked up on it immediately. His eyes turned down and his expression was suddenly serious.

“What? What is it?”

He shrugged, still seemingly avoiding your eyes. “Can I ask ya somethin’?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Always.”

He flicked his thumb along the sharp edge of his knife. “How—with everything that ya’ve been through, how come ya ain’t just angry? I’m angry just thinkin’ about it. And it didn’t even happen to me.”

“Mmm,” hummed thoughtfully. Your eyes turned out across the verdant pasture, toward the trees you’d spent the day under. “I am angry sometimes. But,” you shrugged, your right hand shielding over the scar on your left shoulder absently, “being angry doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix it. It all still happened.”

Your eyes grew a bit far-off, a bit distant. Daryl took several forced, deep inhales and gathered his courage before reaching over and taking your hand in his, pulling it away from your shoulder.

You looked over at him in surprise. Your hand felt small between his. Your gaze was questioning. Daryl’s heart was pounding so hard in his ears he couldn’t hear anything else. He gulped, trying to clear his throat so he could talk. “‘M gonna make sure nothin’ else bad happens to ya. As best I can,” he murmured.

You nodded almost imperceptibly, your eyes still a little wide from the unexpected action of him taking your hand in his. “Only if I can do the same thing for you.”

You saw him gulp nervously before he nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Yeh, I think—I think that’d be alright,” he said.

You gave him a half-smile that he found incredibly endearing and his nerves finally got the better of him and he released your hand, clearing his throat and awkwardly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m, uhh, just gonna go grab some more firewood,” he drawled, standing up abruptly and internally cursing at himself as he left you sitting alone by the fire. Fuckin’ coward. Despite all his attempts at denial, Daryl had realized over the last couple weeks that he couldn’t ignore how he felt about you anymore, but now he was stranded in this place between where he was and where he wanted to be with no idea how to bridge the gap. He wandered back with an armload of firewood, internally frustrated and kicking himself, but his frustration vanished almost immediately when he had dumped it next to the fire circle and glanced at you again. You were looking at him with that open expression, this time with a little inquisitive lift in one of your eyebrows.

“Hmm?” he hummed, pulling his bottom lip back in between his teeth and worrying it anxiously.

You tilted your head toward the place he’d previously been sitting and he gulped as he sat down, still feeling your eyes steady on him. He thought that now you looked a little nervous. “Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

The archer nodded, nervous flutters flitting to life in his stomach.

“Umm… is it just me, or have you slept like shit, too, since I moved out of your tent?”

Once you were no longer staying in the house healing up, Daryl had moved your things out of his tent for you since there was no longer any need to worry about Shane. It wasn’t that you had asked him to, or that he’d even wanted to, it just seemed like he should…Afterwards, you’d actually moved your whole campsite closer to his, directly next to it, but you still found yourself tossing and turning on your cot, unable to fall asleep or stay asleep.

Daryl stared back at you for a moment in disbelief. He’d slept like garbage since you’d moved back, and he hadn’t even had the heart to fill the cleared space you’d once occupied with the stuff he previously had kept there. Now the emptiness loomed, drawing his eyes, the physical manifestation of how he felt something was just missing. When you slept on your cot across from him, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and look over at the shadow of your sleeping form. He always felt some swell of relief and maybe something else he couldn’t quite identify… Something about listening to your calm breathing always relaxed him and he found himself able to shut his eyes and drift off again. Maybe he’d gotten used to it. Maybe he shouldn’t have. But since you’d left, he’d been restless and anxious at night, wishing the material of his tent and yours would vanish so he could check on you.

Your nerves were growing with each moment of silence as you anxiously watched him, waiting for him to say something. “No, I—“ he had to clear his throat, nerves making his voice come out strangely strangled, “I’ve—” he let out a scoff of a laugh, almost incredulous he was about to say it to you, “I’ve slept like shit since ya left.”

“…really?”

He nodded, finally meeting your eyes again. “Mhm. Can’t fall asleep, can’t stay asleep, just feels like I lay there all the time w—”

You grabbed him by his lapel and pulled him toward you, pressing your lips softly to his, your eyes shut tightly, overwhelmed with nerves even while you melted into him. Your fingers cupped his face gently, like he was something fragile and Daryl was reeling.

By the time he reached back for you and got over his surprise you were already withdrawing and he blinked, bewildered, as he took in the wide-eyed expression on your face and your partially parted lips.

“Uhh—was that—okay?” you breathed, anxiety ratcheting up with each passing moment of uncertainty.

“Ya,” he drawled. It spilled from him like warm molasses. He watched as your face broke into a relieved smile and your cheeks burned pink.

“Good,” you murmured, unable to look at him any longer.

“Only I—I wasn’t ready,” he murmured. Your eyes flickered up to his again. He gulped nervously and reached out to move a strand of hair out of your eyes before clasping your face. His blue eyes were flickering between yours and then down to your lips. You could tell he was nervous and it brought a small smile to your face. Your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned toward him, only having to wait a second before you felt his lips crashing against yours.

This time the kiss was heated and urgent and he pulled you into him gently with his hand at the nape of your neck. You happily leaned in, smiling against his lips, your hand pressing flush to his strong chest and the other landing lightly on his side, driving him crazy. Daryl’s hand smoothed over your shoulder and down your bare arm, electricity rising in its wake.

When you broke apart this time, you were both all stunned smiles again, though now you couldn’t look away from each other.

“So, uhh—ya wanna stay with me tonight? Sounds like we both need some real sleep, ya know, and I dunno…” Daryl wasn’t used to asking for what he wanted so blatantly, or making himself vulnerable, but somehow you brought it out of him and he was willing to jump off that ledge if it meant he got to kiss you and touch you and hold you all night… things he had thought about plenty when he was lying on his cot, unable to sleep, but never saw as a reality.

You nodded, that same smile you always gave him glowing on your face. He was constantly amazed by the light you exuded; despite everything you’d been through… everything you’d shared with him.

He needed that. He needed the light. He needed you. You gave him hope.

That night you settled in against him, nervous but melting into the safeness of his arms around you. Daryl worried he was too overwhelmed to sleep, but moment by moment he realized how natural having you against him felt, how safe, how perfect, and before either of you spoke another word you both drifted off in blissful silence.

[ncitygirls]

friends - na jaemin x f reader

fluff, suggestive

“oh-” even over the hustle and bustle of the show’s green room, you hear the small yelp in surprise. it comes from right beside you, the low, breathless greeting. “is that the last one?”

he’s pointing at the cup ramen in your hand, his eyes scanning the table longingly as the kettle bubbles to a stop. you nod your head in apology as you tear the seasoning packet open before emptying it out in the cup.

“sorry,” you say, knowing it won’t fix anything. you can’t speak for him, but if he’s as hungry as you are right now, it’s the least you can say. “they may have some in the back, or the other green room.”

“ah- no,” your brows rise, wondering if he had already scoured every other inch of the venue. though he quickly backtracks when you look down at your cup guiltily. “i just really like that one in particular.”

“oh?” you quickly shed your previous guilt as you glance up at him, eyes finally leaving the black cup. “okay.”

“you see,” he whispers, making sure no one else hears. “that’s my girl’s favourite. she got me hooked and now i can’t eat anything else.”

your head falls to the side as you wonder if he thinks it’s your job to remedy that. “well she has great taste,” you acknowledge, keeping an eye on the inner indent as you pour the hot water.

“yeah,” he sighs lovingly. or longingly. his eyes still stuck on the cup you refuse to hand over. when you reseal it and reach for the utensils, you’re surprised when he passes you a pair of chopsticks. “i’m jaemin, by the way.”

“y/n,” you shake his hand as you go for the sticks, holding his gaze for a second before you laugh. it’s his turn to tilt his head, a silent question woven into his knit brows. “i just- does your girlfriend like you being this friendly?”

much like the rest of him, you cannot deny how pretty jaemin’s laugh is. the cackle sits a few octaves higher than his voice, and draws a few wandering eyes. “i’d like to think so,” when you glare suddenly, he admits, “just depends who i’m friendly with.”

“that’s a lot of trust she’s put in you,” the praise doesn’t go amiss, his eyes gleaming at the thought. “i’d hate to see you ruin that with little ol’ me.”

“‘there’s a lot i’d ruin on little ol’ you.’” there’s no denying how hot his confession makes you. in a room of lingering eyes, jaemin’s words hang heavily in the air as you lock yours with his. he stuffs his tongue in his cheek, reaching for your ramen and chopsticks, kindly mixing the processed concoction for you. “-is an example of being too friendly, you see.”

“right,” you exhale, watching as he splashes some soy and hot sauce in your cup. “oh- does your girlfriend add that too?”

“mhm, she’s not a real whiz in the kitchen-”

“neither is my boyfriend-”

“-but she makes a mean cup of- wait-” jaemin’s hands stopped long before his ears processed your words. “boyfriend?” when you nod, he tuts. “does your boyfriend know you let other guys make your ramen?”

“i don’t think he’d mind,” the sudden admission makes his brows knit, his eyes searching your smiling face. “just depends who’s making it, you see.”

“and you think he’d approve of me?” he asks expectantly, giving the ramen a final stir before placing the cup in front of you. when you shrug, his lips pout softly. “that’s a shame,” he sighs, a hint of genuine disappointment in his eyes. “i was hoping you and i could be friends.”

“i don’t know,” when you reach for the chopsticks, your hand collides with his, his loose grip still lingering on the cup. “my man is all the friends i need.”

jaemin sucks in a long breath at that, lips pulling taut. “that sounds a little toxic..”

“oh, heaven’s no.” you quickly defend, letting your fingers ghost over the back of his hand. he swallows then, eyes following your digits. “he’s just super affectionate.”

“really?” intrigued by the mystery man you call yours, jaemin can’t help but ask “how so?”

“he’s just-” jaemin can’t help but grin at your coy smile, his skin warming as you try to verbalise this feeling of love. which it must be. it radiates so purely from you. his grin only grows as you admit, “he’s a pleaser.”

“is that so?” pinching your chopsticks, jaemin takes a deep breath in before raising the pair, blowing hard on the noodles before bringing them to your lips. he grins smugly when he finds your waiting mouth. “so you like being pleasured?”

“pleased.” you are quick to correct, even around a mouthful of ramen.

“i’m sure they have the same root.” he runs his thumb over your chin then, mopping up a drop of spilt broth. it’s hard not to lean into it, enjoying the warmth of his touch. “you know,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours as his tongue runs over the same digit. “i’m a pleaser too.”

“really?”

“mhm,” jaemin pinches the sticks before dropping them again. chewing his lip, he swallows as he stares down at you, “i think i could really please you.”

“do you really?” he nods firmly, a hand slipping around your waist. only when you’re flush against him do you sigh an inch from his waiting lips, “and how would you do that?”

jaemin moves to close the space between you, his breath tickling your lips as he admits, “i could think of a couple ways-”

“can- you- two- stop!”

you don’t bother pulling apart. you just let your head fall against his shoulder, his laughter filling the air. if you bothered, you’d lift your head to find dream sat behind you. you’d see some of his friends enjoying the little display, while the rest - mark in particular - cringed both inward and outwardly.

“hyung!” haechan screams, slapping mark’s arm hard. “it was just getting good!”

“no it wasn’t,” jisung corrects, hand clapped to his forehead as he wretches at jaemin.

his lips press then linger on your temple, fingers rubbing the soft skin on your side. “they’re just jealous, baby.”

“i know.” you eye the time and decide it’s time you make your leave, “are you sure you don’t want some?”

“some of what?” looking you up and down, jaemin makes it clear he’s unsure what you’re offering. his thumbs hook under your jaw as he presses his lips to yours. “you eat up, okay?”

“okay,” you mumble before closing your lips around his. “thank you for saving it for me.”

“‘is okay,” the end is lost as he slots his tongue in your mouth, ready to leave you breathless when mark screams again. he presses a kiss to your pouted lips, once, twice and thrice, before backing away. “bye baby.”

“bye.” you breathe before waving at the boys.

when you’re gone, jaemin turns on mark. “you’re a shit friend, you know that?”

[lexosaurus]

Going Angst Week 2021: Instinct

Read: [1: birth]

Warning: Ghost Hunger

---

Ectoplasm was poisonous to humans. Danny knew that, it was one of the first things his parents had drilled into him when he was a kid.

If humans ingested small amounts of ectoplasm, they’d be sick but would likely be fine the next day. If they ingested large amounts of ectoplasm, they’d be rushed to the ER to get their stomach pumped, and if they didn’t make it there in time, they’d die.

Danny had accidentally eaten ectoplasm-infused cookies enough times in his childhood to be able to taste it’s gross battery-acid flavor. He’d felt enough stomach cramps from his mother’s cooking before Jazz insisted that they install a second fridge in the lab to store their samples inside of to know how much the human body hated the substance. 

Ectoplasm was poison. Period.

So then why was it that when he stared down longingly at the carnage before him, did he want nothing more than to dip his hand into the delicious pool of green and scoop it into his mouth?

He knew he should leave—his parents would be arriving soon—but as he stared down at the unfortunate remains of the giant ectoplasm mosquito on the pavement, all he could think about was how hungry he was and how sick he’d been all week and this was it, this was the thing that would cure him, he just needed to reach down...

Danny shook his head in disgust. He was still partially human, he couldn’t just eat ectoplasm. 

But he was so, so hungry.

Nothing he’d eaten in the past week had satisfied his hunger. No, this was something else. Something that originated deep down in his core. No human food could fix this, he knew that on instinct.

Ectoplasm was poison.

But he was starving.

Danny closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten these strange cravings. They’d been happening ever since he learned how to shoot ghost-rays with his hands. 

At first, it was easy to ignore. Just a twinge of his stomach here, a slight watering of his mouth there. Little annoyances, but nothing he couldn’t blame on exhaustion or academic stress.

But lately, the hunger had been getting worse. Just looking at a pool of ectoplasm made his heart skip a beat, and the sight of an entire ghost mosquito carcass was enough to make him want to collapse in relief.

He needed to do something. Leave. He couldn’t stay here, he was going to lose it. 

God, this was horrible. He was disgusting for even entertaining the idea.

Danny glanced back at the mosquito. Its core had smashed somehow during the fight, allowing its fresh ectoplasm to pool onto the pavement before it. The sun was setting, and it was hitting the fresh green in just the right way.

“Shut up,” Danny snapped. He wasn’t some feral vampire, he was Danny Phantom. Amity Park’s local ghost protector. He wasn’t just going to…

He glanced around. No one was here, and no one was passing by on the street either. Maybe he could afford just one little taste…

...just one…

...no one else had to know…

...he just needed to reach down and…

His fingers brushed the cool liquid, and as if he were shocked he jolted up, pressing his back into the brick building behind him and breathing hard. 

That was close. Too close. He needed to get out of here quickly before he lost control.

But as he stared back down at the gooey carcass, it was as if a trance had overtaken him. His mind fogged up, and all his worries and stresses seemed to melt away.

The only thing he knew was that he was starving, and there was food. 

Danny crouched down over the mosquito and shyly stuck his hand back out over the glowing pool of liquid. He hesitated, as if there were still some part of his mind that was trying to resist when he knew that he just needed to chill out, Danny. It’s okay. Trust yourself.

He was a ghost. He knew what he was doing.

Closing his eyes, he dipped his hand into the ectoplasm. He shuddered, allowing his hands to explore the cool liquid. It felt...nice. And his hunger seemed to yell louder until he couldn’t ignore the voice in his head goading him to eat the ectoplasm, just eat it, eat the ectoplasm, eat the food.

He brought his hand up to his mouth, and it was as if something inside him shorted out. 

His brain switched off, all thoughts left his body. The only thing that mattered was the ectoplasm, the food, his hunger, god this tasted so nice. 

His world was green, and that was all he needed.

---

“What’s wrong with me?” Danny cried. “Why can’t I stop?”

His hands were plastered in ectoplasm, and he could feel the sticky substance dripping down his suit, threading in his hair, smearing across his face.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Vlad said, hardly looking up from his paperwork on his desk. “You’re starving yourself.”

“But—but I don’t…” Danny collapsed in a chair and buried his head in his hands. 

“Daniel, really. I thought you were better than this pointless drivel.”

Danny shook his head. In a muffled voice, he whimpered, “Please, just tell me how to make this stop. I—I can’t stop. Please. I don’t want to be this monster.”

Vlad sighed and set down his pen. “Halfas have unique biologies in that due to the nature of our deaths, we have naturally powerful cores. The more powerful the ghost core, the more self-generating ectoplasm they can produce for their bodies, which then can offset any ectoplasm lost through daily functions. Like blood cells. Except, if you use more ectoplasm than your body can produce, it starts looking for other ways to replenish it. Typically for ghosts, the ambient ectoplasm in the Ghost Zone would do. But in the human world, there isn’t enough ambient ectoplasm for us to use, so we starve until our core takes matters into its own hands.”

“So, what. I have to move to the Ghost Zone? I don’t understand. Do you get like this?” Danny lifted his head up to see Vlad massaging his temples.

“Well unlike you, I’m not a complete moron who lets themselves get to the point where they can no longer control themselves.”

“But I don't want to do this! I don’t want to...to eat other ghosts.”

“Then don’t.” Vlad stood and yanked Danny through the floor and into his lab. He shoved Danny into the corner of the room. “Clean yourself up. I won’t have you dripping used ectoplasm all over my clean floors.”

Danny hung his head in a mixture of shock and shame as the hot water from the decontamination shower sprayed down on his body, washing the green stains from his suit onto the floor and down the drain.

Meanwhile, Vlad flitted around the lab, wasting no time in between plucking various tubes and files from their shelves to simultaneously berate Danny. “Really, Daniel, I know you’re an idiot but even you can’t be this appallingly stupid. There are many ways to consume ectoplasm that don’t involve tearing the cores out of your adversaries. Of course, if you continue to insist on being a toddler about your different biology then I have no doubt you’ll be back in this sorry state sooner than you can imagine.”

“Please, just tell me what to do.”

Vlad pulled out what appeared to be glowing green lettuce. “These are ectoplasmic vegetables. They grow in the Ghost Zone. I tend to prefer them with a nice cherry vinaigrette and paired with a glass of dry chardonnay. Do you understand, Daniel? The Ghost Zone is a parallel of the human dimension. If there are plants in the human world, there will also exist a variation of those plants in the Ghost Zone. You find the right ally, and you have your dinner.”

Danny stared dumbly at the plant. He’d only been to the Ghost Zone once before, when he was terrified his parents were getting divorced. And that trip had left him too scared to even think about going back.

“Where do you get yours from?” Danny asked.

Vlad put the lettuce back in the metal refrigerator. “Skulker. You know, my lackey? You may have heard of him.”

“Right.” Danny furrowed his brows. He couldn’t ask Skulker if he could have some of the plants—the ghost wanted to kill him. Again.

But he didn’t know anyone else who had ecto-plants either.

“I don’t know where I’d get them. I don’t know any ghosts.”

“Well, that seems like a personal problem.”

“Please!” Danny begged. “There has to be another way. I don’t know anyone! I can’t do this again. Please, Vlad.”

The true question was hidden underneath. But Danny knew what Vlad was going to say, and judging by Vlad’s vicious smirk, Danny’s assumptions were correct.

“Maybe if you stopped fighting your true nature, you wouldn’t have to beg for my food like a pathetic child.”

“Vlad, I—I don’t know what to do.”

Vlad transformed into his ghost form, his eyes glowing a harsh red against the dim light. “You may be a human, but you’re also a ghost. It’s time you started acting like one.”

He could feel it. His core, taunting him from under his skin. Telling him to give in, just trust it, trust his instincts.

But he couldn’t do it. He was scared, he didn’t understand why his instincts were telling him to act certain ways and do certain things. Why were the emotions of his friends and family suddenly so important to him? Why did he feel so compelled to play protector to the town? Why did he have to try to be so normal around Sam and Tucker?

Why couldn’t he go too long without transforming into his ghost form? Why did it feel like an addiction that was impossible to break?

What was wrong with him?

Give in, just give in. 

“I can’t.”

“You have to, Daniel.”

“But if I do that…”

“Then you’ll finally be admitting the truth of what you are. Why is that so wrong?”

Because I’m a ghost, ghosts are evil, ghosts are wrong, they shouldn’t exist, ghosts and humans don’t mix, ghosts are cruel creatures, they’re selfish, they’ll only act in their own self-interest.

But that was what his parents had told him. Was that true?

Did he know anything about ghosts?

Not really. Except for one, crucial thing:

Ghosts were different. 

Danny Fenton couldn’t be different.

---

<previous / next>

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Could a request a nsfw Office or Doctor AU for Geto x Reader? More so can't get the image of Geto in a well fit dress shirt out of my head. Like when he flexes 😤 I very much appreciate a nicely tailored suit on a man more than them being naked sometimes. The baggy clothes he wears does no justice

YES YOU MAY

Time and A Half: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 2k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

"It's time we merged with the Geto Corporation." The news brings your eyes away from your computer screen and to the woman standing in front of you.

"What?"

"We've already taken a vote," your mother admits, sitting in the leather chair across from you and crossing her legs. "And your brother voted for you in absentia since you were... away with your little friends."

"You couldn't have called me? I was at a wedding, mother!"

"In any case," She waves her hand, shaking her head. "Suguru, the CEO, will be coming to the office around two o'clock." You look down at your outfit, unsure if your slacks and plain dress shirt would suffice for a merger meeting. "Don't worry, I sent your assistant to go get a new dress for you. Can't have you showing up in your day clothes."

Three hours later, you're dressed in a houndstooth print dress, and waiting in the conference room with your mother, fiddling with your pen nervously.

"Mrs. L/n," your assistant announces as she walks in. "Mr. Geto and Mr. Gojo are here."

"Send them in," your mother answers, smiling her best "teeth out" grin. Two men enter the room, both insanely tall and almost model-esque. One man has startling blue eyes and white hair and is smiling at your mother as if he stole the cookies from the jar just before he entered the room. The other one is smiling as well, but his eyes and long hair are jet black, and he's more casually dressed than the other. You inhale sharply, facing down the ghost of someone you used to know, but pushing the recognition down and sticking out your hand to greet both men.

"Mr. Gojo," you turn first to the suited, white-haired man, who shifts his gaze to you.

"Ms. L/n, you look stunning," he croons, shaking your hand.

"Mr. Geto," you state, avoiding his piercing gaze as he takes your hand and brings it up to his lips. You flush, pressing your lips together as he whispers,

"Ms. L/n." You take a seat, chest red from the encounter, but not completely unnerved.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

_____________________________________________________________

You rush back to your office after the meeting, trying your best to keep your cool. But before you can close the door and be alone, a foot is inserted into the doorway.

"Can I borrow a sliver of your time?" Suguru wonders, standing in the doorway with his black eyes resting on your face. Much like that night...

"Sure," you offer, letting him inside and then shutting the door behind him. Suguru looks around your office, humming at the decor, then taking a seat across from you. "H-how can I help you?"

"Wanted to make sure you and I would be alright when it comes to working together considering our past."

"Oh, of course," you chirp, shifting papers around on your desk. "My company will be absorbed by yours, so you're calling all the shots, boss. Shouldn't be too unlike that evening we--"

"And I would hope you would come back to the club," he interrupts, standing. "I'd like to see you there. We had a wonderful time, and I'm sure that can be replicated."

"I... I don't really dabble in that anymore," you lie, biting your lip and looking down at your fingers.

"You came back that next night hoping to see me, and I'm sorry I wasn't there," Suguru whispers, leaning over your desk and getting closer to you. You stay put, eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes, unsure of what to do while your stomach twists into a knot. Fingers lift to touch your curls, one swirling around his finger as he stares at it longingly. "I haven't dommed anyone since the night I met you, y/n. This has to be fate; the universe bringing you back to me."

"I--"

"If not the club, then come to my place tonight. I'll take care of you, I promise."

_____________________________________________________________

"Should've made you my sub that night," Geto breathes across your skin, fondling your hips through your velvet dress. "Not seeing you for several months after that night has been hard..." You press into his lap, moaning involuntarily. "But I'll make up for the time lost if you'll let me."

Lips connect with your neck, and hands move to cup your breasts, massaging them gently. You tilt your head over, exposing more of your neck for Suguru to kiss, and leaning into his touch with desire.

"You have to consent, y/n," Suguru reminds you, and you nod, licking your lips. "I need to hear you."

"Yes," you murmur, and he hums softly, pushing you up to a standing position. You look back at him in curiosity, but he's unbuttoning his sleeves and pushing them up his muscled forearms. They stop at his elbows, and then he stands, flexing as he stretches.

"Undress and get on the bed, ass up." You follow instructions and leave your clothes in a pile, resting with your stomach on the plush comforter. Suguru comes up behind you, fingers probing at your entrance. "God, you're wet. And that pussy looks just as beautiful." thick fingers dip around in your slick, dancing across your clit before sliding into you with ease.

"Oh," you moan, coming off your stomach a little.

"You feel especially tight," Suguru murmurs, moving his finger back and forth gently. "Been a while since you last had someone cater to you, huh?"

"Yeah," you admit breathlessly. "Been so busy--"

"Don't lie," Suguru admonishes. "Seems like both of us had a mind-blowing time that night." He pushes another finger in, making you hiss in pleasure and buck your hips. "Y/n, you're so wet..."

You have to admit, the squelching sounds your cunt and his fingers are making are beyond blush-inducing. You feel as if he's busted the dam in your pussy, bringing out the side of you that's been dormant for some time and willing to tease you to the brink.

"You need this," he mumbles softly. You agree, but you can't really speak while you're being fingerfucked and your g-spot is being stroked deftly. You feel the urge to pee slowly become more pronounced, but you know this isn't really a problem. Suguru loved it when you squirted last time. You peer back at him over your shoulder, batting your eyelashes as he tilts his head, leaning into his hand that's inside of you. "Does that feel good?"

"Feels good," you echo, reaching a hand back to pull his other hand to action. "I want you so bad, Su..."

"In a minute," he promises, smoothing his free hand over your back. "You cum first."

"No," you whine. "Want to suck your cock while you make me cum." He huffs a laugh, then grabs one of your nipples.

"Never thought you'd be the one giving orders. But I'll oblige this once." He unbuckles his pants and slides them down his thighs, along with his underwear, then fists his half-hard cock, eyes drifting over your body lazily. "Come here, baby." You move a little to the left, facing his cock and reaching your hand out to grab his length and licking the tip gently. Suguru groans while you taste his pre-cum with excitement, sucking on his tip as his fingers increase their speed inside of you.

"Ah," Suguru moans, knees buckling slightly. "Just as good as I thought you'd be." You lick around his head and under the tip of his cock, making his free hand come up and cradle the back of your head. You remove your hand and bob your head on his cock eagerly, feeling your orgasm speed to its climax. You push your inner walls against his fingers as you begin to cum, and you squirt liberally on his fingers, down your thighs, on his bed.

"Fuck!" you cry out, closing your eyes and bucking against his palm. Suguru keeps fingering you and your pussy squirts out a little more than you expected, making him hum thoughtfully, then pull his fingers out and take off his shirt.

"Stay like that, baby." You pant against the bedsheets, clutching onto them as Suguru places his knee on the bed and shifts you closer to where he's kneeling on the soaked sheets. "Perfect. Spread your legs a little more."

You do so, and he rubs his cock up and down your soaked entrance lazily, his other set of fingers rubbing at your clit slowly. "Be good for me, and I'll give you exactly what you want, babe." You nod your head, and Suguru presses into you, making you flinch while he stretches you out, a hand pressing into your backside as he finds purchase and rocks into you.

"So good..." you whine, and he grunts, balls slapping your cunt.

"Remind me of the four pillars of a dom/sub relationship," Suguru states, and you try to recall all of the information quickly.

"Respect... trust... communication... honesty."

"Do I have your respect?" He delivers a blow to your ass, smoothing his hand over the spot as he awaits your answer.

"Yes," you breathe.

"Your trust?" Another smack.

"Yes."

"Can you communicate with me?" Smack.

"Yes, sir!"

"Can you be honest with me, even when it's hard?" Smack.

"Oh, god, yes!" You press your face into the sheets and moan, feeling the sting of the blows enhance your high, bringing you to a tipping point that isn't orgasmic in nature, but will instead bring you to a place you've been only twice in your life. "Sir, I feel it; I feel... I fee--" Your breathing slows, something in you surrenders completely, and you know in your mind you're there.

Subspace.

Your head begins to swim, and you feel Suguru adjust his grip on you, but no pain. Nothing is in your mind, the emptiness of it almost comforting, and you lean into the lack of sensation, mouth sliding open.

"Talk to me," Suguru pants, but you hum in response, no words forming in your head. When he realizes you're deep in subspace, he stops, pulling out and turning you over onto your back gently. After swiping the hair out of your face, he kisses your swollen lips, then glides back into you. "That's a good girl."

As he resumes his strokes, you stare up at him indolently, eyes roaming over his muscular figure and well-defined abs. You don't even realize your fingers are tracing them until he brings them up to his lips, kissing each finger with care. He places your hand on his chest and holds it there, leaning over you and beating a familiar pattern into your cunt. Long black hair falls over your face, obscuring your view from anything else while he kisses you again, pressing his entire frame into you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers against your mouth, and you hum again, trying for a smile but only succeeding at turning one corner of your mouth up. "Oh, I'm gonna cum..."

"Please," you whisper and his eyes stare into yours, fingers tracing your cheek.

"Want me to cum in you?"

"Yes." Suguru's hips stutter - as if he had already anticipated your response - and he shudders, filling you with his cum, which feels like someone filling you up until you're past full. You stroke his cheeks while he pants, his last exhales bordering on cries of joy, and press small, sloppy kisses onto his chest and neck.

"I don't want to move," he admits, wrapping his arms around you and nestling his face into your neck. "I can't move."

"Then don't," you reply, stroking the dips and curves of his back tenderly. "You have me all to yourself."

"And I'll be sure to schedule a few after-work meetings for the two of us to discuss... business." You laugh a little, and Suguru places a kiss on your shoulder. "Just make sure you're free. I'll get the sub contract to you by Monday morning at eight o'clock."

"And you'll pick it up at...?"

"Eight-thirty. Have your assistant block off eight-thirty to nine-thirty. I have a feeling I might need to collect my first share of the company then."

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Hey as a 1k mile stone request how, about that stuck on an island one that someone had previously mentioned. the possibilities are endless and I know only you could do it justice 👀👀👀

Pairing: stranger!jaehyun x f.reader

Genre: e2l, smut (18+ only)

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, bulge kink

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: so i got carried away with this one lol! hope you like it anyway, and thank you for sending it in :)

Your week at your friend’s timeshare was coming to an end, and you definitely weren’t looking forward to it. The week of solitary bliss had been the perfect cure for the stressful quarter you’d had at work, and as you packed up your things you stared longingly out at the palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze.

You brought your luggage down to the dock to wait for the boat to come and take you back to the mainland, and noticed another person waiting. Your friend had assured you that you were the only person staying at her timeshare, and indeed you hadn’t seen anyone else in the entire week you were there, so where this person came from you didn’t know.

“Hello,” you greeted him politely. He barely turned his head to look at you, and with dark sunglasses on you couldn’t see his eyes. He just nodded, then turned back to stare out at the water. You had no idea what his deal was, but you did not appreciate his rudeness.

“Are you waiting for the five o’clock pickup too?” you tried again, making your voice louder and firmer. He didn’t even turn to you this time, just looked at his watch.

“It’s late,” was all he said, still staring out at the water.

Indeed he was right, the boat was expected five minutes ago, but you still bristled at his brusqueness. “Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but where did you come from? I thought I was the only one staying on this island.”

He laughed. “You think you’re the only one who’s allowed to be on this island?”

“I did not say I thought I was the only one allowed to stay on the island, I just thought my friend’s timeshare was the only one here.” His attitude was really grating on you, and at the irritated tone in your voice he finally turned to you.

“Well, it’s not. Mine is on the other side of the island.”

You were taken aback, not realizing there was another timeshare on the island at all. “Oh, sorry, I had no idea. My friend didn’t tell me there was another one.”

“That’s obvious. Maybe if you’d known you wouldn’t have left your garbage all over the island.”

You felt heat rise in your face at being wrongfully accused. “I did not leave my garbage all over the island, so I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“If you’re the only other person on this island, and it wasn’t me, then it was definitely you!”

“How do you know it wasn’t you?!”

“I know because I can clean up after myself!”

Your argument was interrupted by his phone ringing. Sighing loudly, he answered it while you silently fumed, waiting for him to end the call so you could yell at him some more. But when he ended the call, he took off his sunglasses and turned to you.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a bit longer,” he said, worrying his lip as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re kidding me,” you said in disbelief. You thought he was toying with you and being an ass, but then your phone rang and you got the same message. A storm had built up on the mainland and no boats could leave, but they promised to send one out as soon as the storm passed. You asked how long that would be, but all they could say was that it could be anywhere from a few hours, to a few days.

“Oh for crying out loud!” you complained, knowing you would miss your connecting flight. The man you’d been talking to suddenly got up, grabbed his pack, and started walking back towards the main road. “Hey! Where are you going?” you called to him, “shouldn’t we wait here?”

He shrugged as he walked, not turning to look back at you. “It could take hours, even days. I’d rather wait somewhere more comfortable.”

You huffed, hating that he was right, because the more you thought about it, the more you didn’t want to have to wait at the dock under the burning sun, with no shade in sight. Except that you looked at the sky, and it had suddenly started darkening. The weather from the mainland seemed to be headed your way, so you decided it was probably best to get indoors.

You caught up to the man at the main road, because he had stopped and was standing there, looking up at the sky.

“Looks like this storm is gonna hit us soon,” he said, checking the weather app on his phone, “and it’s a big one.”

You looked in the distance and the clouds were indeed menacing, the sky almost as dark as night. You’d experienced storms like this on the island before, and you knew they weren’t the kind you’d want to be caught in.

“Listen, my timeshare is just around the bend there, if we hurry we should make it,” you suggested. You didn’t relish spending time alone with this grumpy stranger, but at the same time you weren’t cruel enough to leave him outside during a wicked storm.

He paused, thought about it, then nodded. “We need to hurry then, it’s right on top of us.”

Sure enough, you’d only walked a few feet before you felt the first drops of rain. Before you knew it, the rain was coming down in sheets, the water level rising at your feet, and visibility so poor you could barely see your hand in front of your face.

“It’s no good,” you heard the man say from somewhere to your left, “we better find shelter.”

“No, no, we’ll make it,” you insisted, not wanting to stay out in this weather any longer. Except that you could barely move one foot in front of the other, your feet sloshing uselessly in the muddy water.

“Forget it! We can barely see where we’re going!” he yelled as the rain came down harder, “there was a rock outcropping a few feet back, let’s make for that.”

You didn’t want to listen to him, didn’t want to admit that he was right, and you thought about going ahead on your own, but the thought of getting lost and having no one around to find you was too daunting. “Fine, let’s go,” you begrudgingly agreed.

“Come on,” he said, taking you by the hand. You recoiled, pulling your hand back.

“What are you doing?!” you yelled over the patter of the rain, getting louder now.

“Relax, princess, I’m just making sure we stay together.”

You relented then, letting him take your hand. “Fine. But my name’s Y/N, not ‘princess’.”

“Wish we met under better circumstances, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun, by the way.”

You grumbled a hello, but you had to admit, his steadying hand definitely helped you navigate the treacherously slippery road. Once he determined you were in the right spot, he pointed towards a grayish smudge past the treeline.

“That’s where we’re headed, but be careful where you step it might be-”

You had opted to ignore him and surged forward, only that the accumulated water had obscured how deep the ground was in that spot, and you pitched forward, splashing into the water as you lost your balance.

“-deep.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” you cursed, and even over the loud drumming of the rain you could hear Jaehyun laughing.

“Come on, princess, don’t stay down too long,” he chuckled, grabbing a hold of your arm and hauling you up. Once you were in a stable standing position, you yanked your arm out of his grasp.

“I can manage on my own!” you yelled, “and stop calling me ‘princess’!”

“I really don’t think you can,” he shot back, “and I only call them as I see them.”

You seethed the rest of the way to the outcropping, but once you got there you breathed a sigh of relief. It was a serviceable cave, probably the size of a two person tent, but the most important thing was that it was dry. You dropped to your knees onto the cool stone floor, relieved to be out of the rain.

“You should take your clothes off,” Jaehyun stated matter-of-factly, dropping his pack in one corner of the cave.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m gonna build a fire so we can get warm. You’re positively soaked and you’ll get sick if you stay in those wet clothes.” He started to rifle through his pack, pulling out some matches.

You watched him curiously, but still made no move to do what he said. “What are you, a boy scout or something?”

He just smiled, as he went around the cave collecting dry branches. “Never hurts to be prepared.”

“Fucking boy scout,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, then took one look at him, narrowing your eyes, “you’re wet too, why don’t you take off your clothes?”

He looked up at you, after managing to get a small fire started. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged, then started peeling off his shirt, followed by his shorts, and once he got to the waistband of his boxers you stopped him.

“Wait, wait, I was only joking!” you held up your hands nervously, your heart starting to beat faster. You couldn’t help but admire his build, his wet skin glistening in the light of the fire.

“Listen, I don’t want to have to take care of a sick person, so take off your clothes and get over here.” He held out his arms.

“What- why- do I have to-”

“Body heat is the quickest way to warm up but it’s faster if it’s skin-on-skin, so take off your clothes and come here.” He spoke to you like he was speaking to a child, and you would’ve been offended except you were too busy trying to calm your heart at the prospect of cuddling with a complete stranger, albeit a very attractive one, you suddenly noticed.

You briefly thought about just dying of mortification, but your survival instinct kicked in instead, and despite your reservations you found yourself doing what he said. He had the good grace to turn his head while you stripped, and it was only when he pulled a small blanket out of his pack and handed it to you did he turn around.

“Come by the fire,” he said, pulling you to lie down with him. He wrapped his arms around you and you held your breath, the feeling of his arms foreign but not unwelcome. You pulled the blanket over the both of you, and you had to admit the heat of his body was warming you up very nicely. So nicely in fact, that you couldn’t help the heat that was building up inside of you.

“Isn’t this nice?” he asked cheekily, and his breath hot against your ear made you shiver involuntarily. He assumed it meant you were cold, so he wrapped his arms even tighter around you. You let out a small squeak as you got more aroused, rubbing your thighs together.

“You okay?” he asked, but the tone of his voice had changed. It was lower, raspier, and now as your outsides dried, your insides got wetter.

“Yes,” you lied, but the arousal you were feeling couldn’t be contained. You wiggled your hips tentatively against him, and you heard him hiss behind you.

“Don’t do that, princess,” he warned, “or you’ll get something you won’t expect.”

“What if… what if I wanted it?”

He paused for a very long time, and you took it as a rejection, except that his hand started to roam downwards. “Do you really want it?” he asked, voice husky.

You nodded, taking his hand and placing it between your legs. He cupped your sex, and you inhaled sharply as he kept his hand there.

“I have to warn you, princess,” he said, sliding his fingers along your slit, “I don’t go easy, even on spoiled little princesses like you.”

You were already falling apart but his words made you even wetter.

“You liked that, didn’t you princess, you’re fucking gushing.” He pushed his fingers in even further, and you knew you were drenching them in your juices.

“Oh fuck, Jaehyun, I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your body shuddering as he pressed his fingers hard against your g-spot. He pulled his fingers out when you were done, licking them clean, before he turned you onto your back.

“That was sexy, princess,” he smirked, then he pushed your legs apart with his knee, settling his body between them. He hovered over you, not touching you at all, and you found yourself aching for his touch. He smiled at your neediness, how your lips parted slightly, your brow furrowed, your hands shaking restlessly at your sides.

“Jaehyun, please,” you whined, unashamed at how desperate you sounded.

“Are you begging, princess?” he was still smirking, and you really wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, but you wanted him to fuck you more.

“Yes I’m begging, just fuck me,” you whined, grabbing a hold of his forearms.

“As you wish,” he said, leaning down until the tip of his cock touched your wet pussy. A scream died in your throat as he pushed in, stretching you so deliciously you gripped his forearms with such force you probably left imprints of your fingers there.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he started to pound you. The heat you were feeling was so intense now, the fire beside you definitely adding to it, but it was the way he moved his hips against you, the way his cock was hitting you exactly where you needed that made you lose your mind.

“Oh Jaehyun, oh fuck, oh my god,” you scratched up his arms, scratched up his back like a cat but you couldn’t help it, unable to contain the delirious pleasure he was giving you. You were falling apart, rapidly reaching your end.

“Are you gonna come for me, princess,” he breathed, bringing his hand up to pinch a nipple. You couldn’t answer him, couldn’t make a noise as your back arched off the stone floor, your orgasm rippling through you in a shuddering wave.

“Oh my fucking god,” you whispered, when you got your breath back. He just smiled, leaning down to kiss your neck.

“I’ll give you a moment to catch your breath,” he whispered, between sucking marks on your neck, “but I’m not finished with you.”

He was still hard inside you, not having come yet, and once your breathing evened out he yanked your legs up over his shoulders and started drilling into you again.

You moaned loudly, your voice increasing in pitch, drowning out the driving rain outside. The new position drove him so deep inside you that you put your hand down to your lower stomach, feeling him hit there.

“Can you feel me there, baby,” he groaned, watching as you pressed your hand against your stomach. “Fuck, you take me so well, such a good little princess for me.”

You fell apart then, hitting your high when he thrust in particularly hard, finally releasing a choked cry. He managed a few more hard thrusts before he was spilling into you, your pussy milking him till he was spent. He released your legs, breathing heavily, before he tucked his face into your neck, nuzzling lightly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft now, the change in his demeanor so striking it made your head spin. You could only nod, biting your lip, and that action drew his attention to your mouth. He kissed you then, soft and gentle, held you in his arms as the rain continued to fall.

The next morning you woke to a bright sun, and your phone ringing. The storm had passed and they could send a boat out now. Watching Jaehyun sleep peacefully, his bare chest rising and falling, you told them you weren’t quite ready for a pickup yet, and that you would call back.

How long? They had asked, and you had smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from his face.

Oh, maybe a few days.

---

Thank you for 1k!

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All (dark!Loki x reader)

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping.

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: I wrote another one! No idea where this came from, but it was fun to write. Still working on improving my smut, huge thanks to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for some tips and editing the shit out of it. 😘 also I know there is a creepy clown in the pic but I feel like I have to say there aren’t any clowns in the fic. I hate clowns.

Chapter 1:

It was the kind of summer night you dream about, warm enough to keep you comfortable in your shorts and peasant top, but with a light breeze that keeps you cool enough to fight the flush of alcohol in your veins. You look forward to these moments when you are able to go out with your girlfriends and let loose, forgetting about all life’s responsibilities, if just for a single night.

“Come on!” Ash calls over her shoulder, her hand tight around your wrist pulling you impatiently.

“Aww but that looks so good” you groan as you press your face longingly against the glass barrier of the hand dipped corn dog cart.

The sweet scent of the frying corn dough wafts tantalizingly through the air making your mouth water. You friends laugh at your theatrics, having just helped you scarf down a large sugary funnel cake and a platter of nachos, the evidence of which still stains the corner of your mouth. Really, it was their fault for getting you tipsy before taking you to the county fair, everything just smelled heavenly and if you could you would try one of everything.

“Just a slushee?!” You beg as Jen steps behind you and pushes you out of the food court, giggling the entire time.

“Come on, fight the drunchies! You promised you would try that new funhouse,” Jen whines, looping her arm through yours, Ash doing the same on the other side.

“Oh yeah,” you grumble.

“Oh stop it” Ash scolds playfully. “Everyone at work keeps talking about it - it’s like a mini escape room! And I’ve always wanted to do one, please.” She rants excitedly before giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh that’s cheating. No one can resist those big brown eyes” you pout, but yield as easily as they knew you would.

“I know” Ash smirks, tossing back her long silky black hair over her slender shoulder.

“This is gonna be so much fun, I promise” Jen bumps your hip, giving you a wide encouraging smile.

You manage a strained grin as you let them lead you through the crowd. It’s not that you don’t like funhouses or the idea of doing an escape room, having always loved solving riddles and doing puzzles. It’s just you don’t like clowns, and every funhouse in your experience has at least one.

“Oh damn there’s a line!” Jen moans as you all stop in front of a large structure covered in flashing lights, the ominous ‘Tricksters Trap’ bathing your face in a violent red glow.

Garish contrasting colors somehow both attract your eye and make it hard to look at. Your pupils dilate with the lines of fluorescent bulbs burning into your retinas. The stereotypical circus music blares through the cheap speakers, reminding you of one of those old Jack in the box toys. And of course, without fail, was the obligatory clown statue hanging over the entrance, like some creepy sentinel there to guide you to your inevitable demise.

“Ugh fucking clowns” you grimace as you pass by the entrance, heading toward the end of the line.

“Yeah they definitely nailed the creep factor,” Jen agrees, her eyes shining with nervous excitement.

“I know isn’t it great?!” Ash squeals.

You stand there taking in the horrific detailing painted on the side of the metal structure. You are thankful when Ash explains there is a time limit, only ten minutes to complete the puzzle or else they kick you out and you have to try again. If you figure out the puzzle you get to leave through the mirror maze and you earn the coveted “I tricked the Trickster” sticker.

“Gotta get that sticker, or else that bitch Katie at work will never let me forget that she got one and I didn’t” Ash complains, causing you and Jen to share a look and snicker.

“Hey! Don’t laugh, this is serious! We gotta be smart and figure this out, failure is not an option” she urges dramatically before collapsing into drunken giggles with you and Jen.

“You ladies seem eager to prove yourselves,” slithers a low voice.

Startled you gasp and spin around quickly. The three of you look up at the tall lean figure standing behind you. He wears a perfectly tailored black ensemble, that matches the color of his slicked back hair. His eyes practically glow green against his alabaster complexion. His sharp cheekbones and angular jaw make your breath hitch, causing his thin lips to curve into a sinister smirk. He is stunning.

“Um, yeah. Well this place has the whole town buzzin’. Seems like everyone is talking about it” Jen is the first to speak.

“Ah I see. Wouldn’t want to miss your chance to take a stab at it” the mysterious man surmised, eyes focused on you.

“We got this shit. Right guys?” Ash assures him as she playfully smacks you and Jen.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out. Good luck,” he challenges with a raise of a brow.

You stare after him as he saunters away without another word. His hips and shoulders sway smoothly, his soft footsteps giving him a dangerous almost feline vibe, like he could rival even the most deadly of predators. As he turns to round the corner of the ride he takes one last look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes lock for only a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

“That was weird, right?” You mutter, eyes still transfixed where he disappeared.

“Eh, just another creepy dude. If I had a nickel for every weirdo who tries to chat me up…” Jen jokes.

“You’d have like a whole 50 cents,” sasses Ash.

You are finally broken from your daze when Ash is pushed into you. You laugh and try to brush off the lingering effect of the handsome stranger, shifting your focus back to your friends. The line goes by quicker than expected, with only one group out of the three ahead of you making it out with stickers. The losing groups return to the line from a back door, bickering about where they went wrong.

Finally it is your turn. Ash claps her hands excitedly, dancing up the metal stairs to the costumed man at the entrance. His red and white stripped suit is expertly torn and painted with fake blood to make him look as intimidating as possible. With a tip of his top hat he welcomes the three of you and begins to explain the rules in his well practiced accent.

“Come one come all to the Tricksters Trap, if you’re feeling lost, just go find the map.” He sings with flair and a perfectly timed bow, directing you to the inauspicious black door.

Taking a deep breath you follow your squealing friends into the darkened hallway. Pausing to look back as the door creaks shut, cutting off the jovial sounds of laughter and chatter with a sudden slam. You flinch at the loud noise and turn back to the dim hallway. The short corridor is lined with wall to wall green velvet curtains barely visible with the green rope lights running along the ceiling.

“Guys?” You whisper when you don’t see them next to you, causing your heart rate to quicken

You call for them again, this time louder, your feet unwilling to move from the spot. It has only been thirty seconds and you are already about to call it quits. Get a grip. You take a hesitant step forward.

“You guys?!” You call shakily.

“Hey! Come on we found the map!” Jen pokes her head from around the corner at the end of the hall.

She disappears just as quickly, waving her arm for you to follow. You breathe a sigh of relief and rush after her. You enter a large room filled with all sorts of random objects. It’s as if it is designed to overload your senses. The green from the hall carried on into the room, more velvet green curtains hung on the walls that were not obstructed by shelves of books or other oddities. You saw everything from perfectly aligned glass jars filled with alien looking creatures, grandfather clocks, to treasure chests overflowing with grizzled toys.

Jen and Ash are hunched over a table with a map spread out smoothly. It was easy enough to see it was a map of the room and hallway, with what appeared to be three small rooms hidden along the wall behind the heavy green drapery. You go over and pull back a curtain and find a locked door, the other two also hiding a locked door.

“Ok so it looks like we gotta find a way to open these doors” you offer, your anxiety calming a bit as you focus on the mystery at hand.

“Hey look there is some sort of code over here by the lock on the door.” Ash hollers excitedly.

You each pick a door code and frantically search the room. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out you need to use the books on the large shelf along one wall. The first number tells you the book the second refers to a specific page. You find a slip of paper in the book with a riddle written in a blood red ink.

“I make two people out of one” You read aloud.

“You can hold me in one hand, but I’m used to fill the room” Ash reads hers, her face twisting in concentration.

You both look to Jen, “I have two hands, but I can’t clap.”

“Damn no wonder so many people failed, definitely wish I wasn’t drunk right now” Ash laughs.

“No no we can do this, it’s probably items in the room so let’s just focus. We’ll do one at a time.” You assert, pacing the room and trying to take in all the random objects.

“Two hands…” you mutter as you stop in front of a large grandfather clock. “Clocks have hands!” You yell excitedly and open the narrow door.

The heavy pendulums swing inside and you see a shining silver glint off the rounded golden end. You pull off the small silver key, stuck on by a tiny magnet, and jump in excitement.

“Holy crap! You’re a genius!” Jen exclaims running over to take the key and try it in the door.

The key slides in smoothly and the door opens with a gratifying click.

“Woo! Keep going, you are on a roll!” Ash claps as she cheers you on.

“Ok, ok” you giggle before taking a deep breath. “Two people out of one… maybe a camera? Or wait…” you realize as you stare at Ash currently checking her makeup in an antique mirror hung between two curtains.

“Ash! Try pulling on that mirror!” You yell pointing frantically at the mirror in front of her.

Her brows knit together briefly before understanding, grabbing the frame and tugging gently until it swings open, revealing a key hung on the wall.

“Yes!” You all shriek together.

Suddenly, the lights flicker and a loud maniacal cackle reverberates through the surround sound speaker, turning your elation into yelps of surprise.

“Two minutes left” a familiar polished voice echoes forebodingly throughout the room.

“Shit, that scared the crap out of me” Jen laughs clutching at her chest.

The warning gives you pause, managing to shift the spirit of the whole room. Ash giggles nervously as she watches the lights of the room transition from their previous dim yellow light to a menacing red hue. The mood lighting in addition to the increasing volume of the horror soundtrack playing over the speaker helps to put you back into your initial anxious state.

“Seriously? Is this fucking necessary?” You curse, shaking your head.

“Ok let’s get the last one guys! We can still do this!” Jen yells through the cacophony of sound effects.

“Yeah what can we fit in our hand but somehow also fills the room?” Ash reiterated the final riddle.

“These red lights make it so much harder to see” Jen complains bitterly as she rummages through the items inside a large chest.

“Lights… Jen that’s it! A lightbulb!” A smile breaks out on your face as you figure out the final clue.

“Look up there!” Ash points to a solitary darkened light bulb screwed into the ceiling.

“I got it.” Jen jumps onto the table and reaches up, unscrewing it quickly. “There is a key inside!” She shouts.

She unscrews the bottom of the fake lightbulb and received the key before handing it to Ash. Each of you run over to the corresponding doors and turn the key, squealing in delight when they all slide open.

“Is that it?” Jen asks looking into the cramped dark space behind the door.

It was little more than a closet. Barely enough room for each of you to stand in. You were at a loss. You could have sworn that would be the end.

“Guys there is a lever here on the back wall of mine, how about yours?” Ash’s muffled voice calls from inside her closet.

“Oh yeah mine too!” Jen replies.

“Do you think we have to pull them at the same time? ‘Cus mine did nothing when I tried it” Ash says poking her head out to look at you.

“Thirty seconds!” That haunting voice booms again as a tick clock sounds through the speakers, counting down your final moments.

“Ok let’s try it together!” You nod at both of them, before stepping into the tight dark space.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!” You shout, mirroring your friends calls, pulling down your lever with a snap.

There is a moment of silence as the lights of the room behind you suddenly go dark, the music and sound effects cutting off instantly.

“Did we get it?!” You yell.

You don’t get the chance to hear your friends response as the wood door slams behind you, locking you into the small space.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[gureishi]

gold rush

✧ — Summary: A chance encounter at the bar where you work. But is anything ever really a coincidence?

✧ — Pairing: Saeyoung x Reader

✧ — Rating: T (light cursing, bar setting)

✧ — A/N: This is probably as close as I’ll get to writing an AU. The way the characters are meeting is a little bit different, but we all know where they’re going to end up. This fic is set two weeks before the start of Deep Story.

chapter one

It was the beginning of a summer sunset—all reds and pinks and white hot light streaming through the windows and making you dizzy—when you saw him.

You didn’t believe in love at first sight or even fortuitous encounters. You thought coincidences were nothing more than accidents and miracles were just funny little bursts of brain chemicals.

And you weren’t interested in meeting anyone new. Your feet ached and your eyes felt heavy; you wanted an ice cold beer or a hot shower or maybe just a nap. But time twisted that day: worlds collided and the sun shone extra bright and your weary mind lit up in a way you’d never be able to explain.

You were standing by the bar when it happened. You had a faded blue rag in your hand, with which you were halfheartedly polishing a wine glass. The bartender (a friend, sort of) was telling you a story and you were gazing longingly at the door. A few more hours, you thought, until you’d leave—till you’d walk down the street with its overflowing trash cans and broken sidewalk, around the corner with its group of old men blaring music through their speakers, and home.

And as you stared at the door, it swung open—almost as if you’d compelled it with your yearning. You sighed and looked down at the wine glass in your hand, because it was slow today and on slow days, customers always wanted to talk.

You didn’t want to talk to anyone. You had no patience for conversation about the heat or somebody’s kids or their upcoming vacation. You wanted to lie on the floor of your bedroom in your underwear and stare at the ceiling fan till you stopped thinking about anything at all.

“Hey,” the bartender said (and her voice was a little too loud, like always, but you put on your best listening face for her). “Look at him.”

You didn’t roll your eyes, though you wanted to. She was younger than you and still found everything interesting—and ultimately you appreciated that about her. Instead, you tilted your head and peered through your lashes at the man by the door.

Ah, you thought (wildly, without knowing why). There he is.

He looked like the sort of person who never quite belonged.

He stood a little bit stiffly, his hands in his pockets—and then he waved at one of your coworkers and smiled, and all at once he seemed to fit in, after all. You didn’t know what to make of it.

“Cute,” the bartender whispered (standing on tiptoe to lean over the bar). “Don’t you think?”

“Oh,” you said, keeping your voice level. “Is he?”

You were a terrible liar. Your skin was screaming and your heart was racing; you felt as though you’d had the wind knocked out of you. The man strode casually across the bar and slid into a chair at one of the high-top tables, and you studied him. The bartender had called him cute, and your unsteady heart seemed to agree—but you weren’t even sure if it was true.

He wasn’t necessarily traditionally attractive. He was neither tall nor well-dressed: he wore jeans and a t-shirt that were both several sizes too big for him, and he had oversized headphones dangling around his neck. 

But his hair was a striking shade of red that you’d never seen before—it made you think fleetingly of childhood days playing under a sizzling sun and the sweet taste of lemonade. He wore glasses that suited his soft features, and behind them his eyes were startlingly gold. He looked up and your thoughts scrambled; you felt, for a moment, like you were swimming through thick liquid.

The bartender sighed, stirring your strange vortex of feelings.

“He sat at a table,” she said. “So he’s yours, not mine.”

Yours, huh? You felt vaguely nauseous.

Without a word, you grabbed a big bottle of water from the bin by the bar. Something seemed to have shifted inside you: it was the feeling of seeing the bus pull up when you’ve waited forever—the feeling of an eternity of biding your time coming to an end.

You had no idea why you felt that way.

You paused to check on a couple sitting in a booth as you made your way across the bar, but they didn’t spare you so much as a glance; they were staring silently into each other’s eyes, hands clasped on top of the table. And the man in the corner wasn’t looking at you—he was typing something on his phone, fingers moving so fast you swore they were blurry.

“Hey,” you said when you reached him. His fingers didn’t stop moving when he looked up at you—but your eyes met, and he smiled.

“Hi,” he replied (still typing). His voice was not at all what you’d expected: much brighter and more musical. He cocked his head to the side as though he were drinking you in, and you had the eerie sensation that he was reading your mind.

“Been here before?” you asked (knowing he hadn’t). He set his phone down and drummed his fingers against the table like he couldn’t quite sit still.

“Yeah,” he said. “You don’t remember me?” 

Liar, you thought. You took in his earnest expression: trust me eyes and a proud sort of smile. He wanted you to play along.

“Right,” you said, hands on your hips. “Didn’t I kick you out of here before?”

His eyes widened: a remarkable imitation of innocence.

“Me?” he trilled, sounding only mildly curious. “Impossible.” 

A lock of his hair fell over his forehead and you felt a fleeting urge to brush it away.

“I could do it again,” you said instead, raising your eyebrows. He looked you up and down (the back of your neck burned), and then he grinned.

“You win!” he exclaimed, bouncing in his seat. It was weird, you thought, that he was so excited not to have fooled you—but there was something about his almost childlike exuberance that made you feel pleasantly squirmy.

“Obviously,” you said. “I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”

You hadn’t meant to be so honest, but the words slipped out on their own—and you watched, horrified and delighted, as he flushed a funny shade of fuchsia.

“Really?” he asked, giggling (actually giggling). “Me, specifically?”

It would have been easy to say something biting, but you found that you didn’t want to.

“You, specifically,” you said.

And for an instant, his boldness seemed to slip away: his eyes softened and his hands stilled, and you saw another person entirely. It was someone somber and small—someone who’d been waiting to be told you, specifically for a very long time.

Your heart contracted.

Oh, you thought. Me too.

But the moment had already passed. He was grinning again, his eyes glittering. He winked roguishly, leaning forward.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

Oh, what was happening to you?

You glanced around the room: two other tables seemed to have materialized while you were talking to him. In a voice you hoped was level, you asked him what he wanted (just a soda), and then you slipped away to greet the new groups of people. In your peripheral vision, you saw him pulling a laptop out of his bag.

The sun had mostly set by the time you made it back to the bar. You could hear him in the corner, typing away.

The bartender caught your eye and beamed.

“What was that?”

You tried to avoid her gaze. 

“What was what?” You put the drinks on a tray.

She rolled her eyes dramatically as though she thought you were being incredibly difficult (and perhaps you were).

“You,” she said, laughing away your attempted ignorance. “Leaning all over the table and making puppy dog eyes.”

“I didn’t do that.” Did you?

“I felt like a real voyeur, watching you just now,” she said. She tossed her hair and you knew that she was teasing, but you still felt a little bit anxious. There was clearly something wrong with you.

“I hope you enjoyed it,” you told her drily. She waved you away; the ice was already melting in the drinks—and her laughter mingled with the sound of muted pop music drumming over the speakers as you strode back into the bustle of the bar.

You dropped drinks at your new tables first, and then you checked in on the couple in the booth (they were making out now, her legs in his lap). You knew that you were stalling.

But you didn’t trust yourself to go back to his table: you didn’t know what you’d do or say. It had been a long, hot summer—a long, dreary year. These days, nothing made you nervous—but the redhead typing furiously in the corner knocked you off balance.

When there was truly nothing left to do but return to him, you made your way across the room (too fast; too slow). You arrived at his side and your heart fluttered. His eyes were trained on his screen.

“I’m back,” you said, and your voice came out perky and loud. He looked up, then, his eyes taking a moment to refocus. Whatever he was doing, it seemed to require a lot of concentration.

Curious, you tried to peek at his screen, but he’d angled it so you couldn’t see. You wondered if he’d done that on purpose.

“Thank god,” he said, grinning crookedly. “I was lost without you.”

You set the glass, which was wet with condensation, on the slightly sticky wooden table. You should’ve brought a napkin or something.

“Are you sure you don’t want something stronger?” you asked, arching your eyebrows. You didn’t say the next part—why come to a bar just to drink Dr. Pepper?—but his smile widened, and for the second time you got the sense that he knew just what you were thinking.

“I don’t drink alcohol,” he said, flicking the wrapper off the straw and taking a sip. He drank soda, you thought, the way college kids drank liquor: hungrily. “You wanna know why I’m here,” he added. His eyes were piercing.

You gestured at his laptop (wondering what sort of program he could possibly be running to make it hum like that).

“I could take a wild guess and say that you’re working.”

He laughed.

“You get me.”

“What are you working on?” Again, you tried to peek at his computer; this time he shut it with a firm snap. Then he leaned in conspiratorially, his eyes twinkling.

“If I told you,” he whispered in a voice that dripped with provocation, “then I’d have to kill you.”

God. You should have expected no less. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms; the Bond act did nothing for you.

“Sure,” you muttered. “That’s what they all say.” 

He paused, taking in your defensive posture—and then he burst out laughing. You'd gone from charmed to annoyed in a heartbeat—and now the ringing sound of his laugher was melting the tension from your shoulders. You weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Do you, uh…” he stammered breathlessly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Do you get that a lot?”

“It’s a vibe,” you told him. “Guys who think they’re cooler and more interesting than they really are.” Oh, you didn’t mean to antagonize him—but something about the way he was looking at you egged you on. He rested his chin on his hand and you couldn’t help noticing the thin white scars that dappled his fingers. Huh.

“So you think I think I think I’m interesting?” He was looking in your eyes again. Your knees felt weak.

“I think I…have other tables,” you said. And it was true: it was fully dark out now, and people were trickling in, looking around expectantly for someone to pay attention to them. You needed a break from him or you’d drown (oh, but there was a part of you that wanted to pull up a chair and stare at him till he looked away).

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. You couldn’t put your finger on why, but it sounded like a challenge.

You smiled because you didn’t know what to say. Talking to him was like skating on the surface of a pond that had just iced over: thrilling and precarious. You darted away (and by the time you’d made it to the other side of the bar, his eyes were back on his screen). It was louder in here now; you couldn’t hear him typing anymore.

You quickly checked on the couple in the corner (still ignoring you) and then greeted two large groups of people around your own age. One was friendly and probably already drunk (they ordered a round of shots); the other was stiff and rude. You suppressed a sigh as all eight of them ordered drinks that weren’t on the menu; as soon as they’d sent you away, they called you back to make several changes (because people like that always did).

Martini with a twist, not a gin fizz, you chanted in your mind as you shimmied through the crowd of people who’d gathered around the bar. Your mind was tired and hazy (and the man in the corner wasn’t helping; all your nerves seemed to be firing randomly, making your skin feel too tight).

You typed the order into the POS, trying to ignore the redhead in your peripheral vision; his table was just an arm’s length away. The bar was getting noisier now, and the familiar cacophony of music and voices soothed you and made you sleepy.

And then, in the midst of the sea of sounds: “Hey.”

You felt his eyes on you at the same time you heard his voice. You turned to see him watching you, your heart doing a little dance behind your ribs.

“What’s up?”

He smiled lazily and rested his chin on his hands.

“Don’t forget the martini,” he said.

For a moment, you stared at him—and then it dawned on you. Martini with a twist, not a gin fizz. You’d definitely just put the order in wrong.

“How’d you know that?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously. His face gave nothing away.

“How’d I know the order, or how’d I know you’d forget it?”

“Either,” you said (giving in, leaning on his table). “Both.”

“I’m a good listener.” His grin was too big (almost wicked): he was enjoying this. “I’m a good watcher, too.”

And that did seem to be the case. His penetrating eyes seemed to take in everything: a whisper of someone’s hair against their skin; a brush of fingertips beneath a table. You wondered what exactly he saw when he looked at you; you wondered what he’d say if you asked.

“Thanks,” you said. “Can you just hang out here all night and do my thinking for me?”

“I wish,” he muttered, sounding a little bit awkward. You got the sense that he meant it. You were starting to form a response when the bartender caught your eye—and you sighed, remembering that you needed to intercept her before she made the wrong drink.

“I’ve gotta—”

“Go,” he said.

You slipped from his side back into the crowd, but your thoughts seemed to have gotten stuck. You heard his voice in your mind as you spoke to the bartender; you imagined he was watching you as you ran some drinks (but you checked, and his eyes were glued to his screen).

The friendly drunk girls called you over and convinced you to do a shot with them (which wasn’t really allowed, but nobody followed that particular rule). The rude table complained that the music was too loud and the AC was too high. The couple in the booth finally asked for their bill.

Time—too much time—passed before you found yourself free again. You paid out the clingy couple and turned to face the dimly lit room, and your heart skipped a beat.

Your redhead was standing, tapping his fingers idly against the table.

“You’re leaving?” You darted to his side, relieved you’d caught him—anxious that he’d almost left without saying goodbye. “You gonna disappear into the night and never return or something?”

He grinned, but his cheeks were pink. He picked up on your sincerity whether you wanted him to or not.

“I’m going to the other side of the universe,” he said. He was slinging his bag over his shoulder, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He’d left a wad of cash on the table (it looked like way too much). “If I don’t get lost in space, I’ll be back for you.”

The bottoms of your feet tingled. It felt strangely intimate to be standing face-to-face like this.

“What’s your name?” you asked. “So I don’t forget you this time.” You winked, because you wanted him to think you meant it lightly—but something dark passed across his expression anyway. That scared him, you thought. He’s afraid of being—

But he was already smiling wider; the moment of solemnity was gone before you could acknowledge it.

“If I told you,” he said, “I’d have to—”

“I’m leaving!” you declared, turning away from him with as much flair as you could muster. He cackled, and then his hand shot out and closed around your wrist.

Time had been moving in strange swirls and eddies all night; now, it stopped altogether.

“Oh,” he said. “Uh.”

His hand fell as you turned to face him. He hadn’t meant to touch you, you thought: he’d done it impulsively, instinctively—and something had snapped. A line had been crossed. His face was very red.

“Seven,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse and weak, like he’d just been burned. “You can call me Seven.”

“Like the number?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That way every time you count you’ll remember who I am.”

You would’ve rolled your eyes if anyone else had said something like that to you—but he stood so awkwardly and spoke so earnestly that you thought he might actually have meant it.

“I count a lot,” you told him. “I hope you’re prepared to be on my mind at least once an hour.”

He smiled and leaned forward and for a single, wild moment you thought he was going to kiss you.

Instead, he whispered in your ear. His breath gave you goosebumps.

“You’re the one who should be prepared,” he said. “Once I’m in your mind, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Before you could respond, he’d pulled back; he was retreating, lifting a hand and giving you an energetic wave.

“Bye, then,” he trilled. And then he said your name.

You were quite sure you’d never mentioned it.

“Oh—” you started to say—but the door chimed, and he was gone. 

It was over.

Rocking back on your heels, you looked wearily around the bar. Everything was normal: the chattering of people and the beat of a song that had already played three times that night. It was almost as if nothing had happened.

But you couldn’t forget.

You went through the motions, because you had to: you spoke to people and brought drinks and cleared tables and thought about bright golden eyes. More people gathered around the bar, but the tables cleared out quickly—and you dutifully wiped them down and blew out all the little candles and imagined you were anywhere but there. You counted money with stiff fingers and collected your cash tips and bid goodbye to the bartender and wondered if it was still hot out.

It turned out that it was.

You nudged open the door with your hip and the heat hit you like the big, dangerous ocean waves you’d only ever seen in pictures. It was late (early, even) and the street was nearly empty; another bar across the street buzzed vaguely and the air shimmered with late night summer wetness. Wishing you were already home, you ran a sticky hand through your hair and turned the corner onto a street that you knew was always empty.

Except it wasn’t. 

Someone was there.

Oh, you thought (frantically, irrationally). It’s him. 

You could barely make out the figure in the darkness, but he was the same general shape as your mysterious redhead. He was the right height, and his hair was wild, and—

Your heart raced. Had he waited for you after all?

But then the figure stepped forward and the streetlight shone in his eyes. They were the color of a clear sea after a storm.

You cursed yourself for hoping; you felt as though you’d been sucked dry. The stranger looked just enough like your redhead, but also altogether different: his hair was bright white and he stood perfectly still, like a predator lurking in the shadows.

And for no good reason, you had the sense that you were meant to be the prey.

The man smiled—almost a smile, one corner of his lips quirking upward. You wanted to say something (what?), but he was already turning away. He walked slowly, like he wasn’t in any hurry—but two steps were enough: he disappeared into the darkness on the other side of the streetlamp.

You were left alone with the tingling in your toes and the feeling that you had been caught.

A coincidence, you told yourself firmly (but you retraced your steps, deciding it would be safest to take another route home). Or maybe just my imagination.

You turned onto your block and unlocked the front door to your building and squinted against the fluorescent lighting. The people around you, you thought, believed in fate and miracles because these things made them feel better about their otherwise ordinary lives. But you didn’t agree: time marched endlessly forward, and there was nothing to be done about it.

Oh, and yet—

You pushed open the door to your apartment (dark and hot as always), kicking off your shoes and fumbling for the light. You knew better than to believe in the things that made your friends pretend that life was softer and sparklier than it really was. You did.

But the air tasted different now. You knew it—irrevocably, inexplicably—whether you wanted to believe it or not. 

Tonight, around sunset, everything had changed.

[restapesta]

They were sitting in their car in the middle of an empty McDonald's parking lot. It was three in the morning, star-lit darkness, the world around them only lit up by the white light of the always-opened drive-through.

It had been a craving that brought them here. Ian waking up for a midnight snack, realizing that Mickey was quite awake too, unable to truly rest until he knew his husband was near, with him. He had been standing in front of the fridge inside their scarcely illuminated kitchen, with Mickey sitting on the kitchen counter, legs criss-crossed watching him. Ian had been contemplating what would be best suited to satiate his hunger, besides the man licking strawberry yogurt clean off the spoon.

A light bulb had lit up above his head.

"Get ready."

"What?"

He threw his hoodie Mickey's way. It was big on Ian most of the time, but it was good enough to keep a person warm. "Trust me, Mick."

Mickey placed the gray sweatshirt over his head, pulling it over his torso until he was engulfed in it. Ian rummaged slowly around for their phones, wallets, and keys, searching for them in the dark. His eyes had accommodated to it, and the moonlight filtering in through the windows helped.

"Where are we going?"

"You look great in my clothes, you know. And, you'll see."

He grasped Mickey by the hand, their fingers locked together in a soft embrace, feeling the warmth of each other's skin. Mickey didn't resist for a moment, trusting Ian with his entire life, following after him like a moth to a flame. The only sound echoing throughout the silent apartment had been the turning of the key inside their lock, and later on the slight thudding of quiet steps outside in the hall before their door.

First they got inside their car, both Mickey and Ian staying silent as the redhead drove through the Westside streets—empty and calm. They were enjoying the peace, the clock on their dashboard showing 02:47, and their bodies were still touching, Ian's palm resting flat against Mickey's pajama-bottom-covered thigh, the ones he felt no need to change out of. Ian was in his too, checkered and amusing, reminding Mickey of a grandpa. It was ten minutes before the logo came into view, large and inviting.

Mickey's stomach rumbled unwittingly as he glanced at his husband, noting the twinkle in his eye. He himself was draped in a thick black sweatshirt, the hood obnoxiously pulled over his head, wisps of hair poking out, flaming red.

"Really?" Mickey asked, a slight flutter in his stomach at the image of it all.

"Open 24/7."

"That's your response?"

"Come on, baby, you're just hangry. Let's get some food in ya'."

Mickey couldn't argue.

Now they were in the car, stuffing their faces with hamburgers and fries, downing them with Coke like madmen—something about late nights made them starved—talking amongst one another with mouths filled with food. With anybody else, it probably would've been disgusting and unattractive.

But not with them. Never with them.

They were playing a game.

Twenty questions that were turning into thirty, all asked with no clear goal in mind, simply the first thing to pop into either one of their heads, out of their mouths only for them to hear.

"Have you ever thought about playing the ?"

"You know I play guitar."

"Do you want a guitar for your birthday?"

"It's my turn to ask the question."

"'kay. Ask."

"How old are those tiny as fuck briefs you have hidden in our dresser and why the fuck do you never wear them?"

"Those are two questions."

"You're blushing."

"'m not."

"Answer it, bitch."

"Just so you know, those briefs are brand new and they fucking fit amazing."

"Why was I then denied the pleasure?"

"Mick—"

"As soon as we get home, you're putting them on."

"Fine."

"You're gonna try them then too."

"Why?"

"Your ass. Have you seen your fucking ass?"

Mickey grinned.

They lapsed into silence as they slurped on the last few sips of their Cokes, plastic squeaking in their hands.

Ian finished his drink with a loud sigh, discarding the cup with the rest of the trash that was sitting between them. Mickey followed suit. They were stuffed now and slightly sleepy, drowsiness appearing in their eyes.

Mickey watched as Ian leaned back in his seat. They had reclined them all the way, so Ian was practically laying in it, long legs sprawled out underneath the console. He placed his hands across his stomach, palms across one another.

"What was the best day of your life?" He asked like the sap he was.

Mickey smiled at the question, teasing, "It's my turn."

"Mickey."

"Okay, fine," He chuckled, not wanting to play that specific game of pull and tug, content with the peacefulness of it all. "Let me think about it."

First kiss. Engagement. Wedding. Anniversary. Too many moments to pick from, each stained with a problem they had faced and overcame, beautiful in their own fucked up ways.

He nibbled on his lower lip as he recalled a memory of compete and utter happiness. No problems, no worries, no sadness. It dawned on him, the sensation like drinking water after days of dehydration.

"Remember that trip to Oklahoma?"

A smile graced Ian's features, his eyes briefly closing as he seemed to recall the day. "Don't think I could forget."

"We spent a whole day at that fair. Rented out a room at some shitty motel. From morning till night we went on every single ride possible. Literally saw every attraction there." He was getting lost in the memory, chest swelling with happiness. "Kissed on top of the Ferris wheel at midnight when it was just about to close, like fucking dorks."

He turned around to glance at Ian. He was looking straight at him, the small upturn of his lips reading clear in his eyes, gazing at Mickey like he was everything to him in this entire world.

Whispering, Mickey said, "That was the best day of my life."

Ian grabbed a hold of his hand slowly, delicately, placing it in his lap, the action making warmth heat Mickey's cheeks. Mickey leaned against his own seat, mirroring his husband, eyes on him all the way.

"The best day of my life was the 21st of June, 2021," Ian said longingly as if he was reading the beginning of some old fairytale-type story.

Mickey couldn't help the laugh that escaped him at Ian's sweet earnestness. "You know the date?"

Ian shot him a look, no bite in it whatsoever. "Allow me to tell the story, please?"

Mickey bit his lip to stop smiling. "Okay, okay, you're allowed."

Ian smacked lightly at Mickey's chest, not moving an inch, still slumped in his seat lazily.

"That night I had a dream," He began. "It wasn't even like a dream. More like a fucking vision—and I know how weird that sounds, trust me. But it was literally like a vision, clear and vivid and everything.

"Anyways, the dream—or vision, whatever—was of you and me, sitting in two lawn chairs, staring out into the world. But the thing is, we were older. Like, ninety-year-old old. We were just staring ahead. Then at each other. The way we looked at each other is how we look at each other now—filled with a bunch of love and fondness. It was just the two of us, together, old and gray."

Ian stopped and took a deep breath, leaning forward in his seat, locking eyes with Mickey who was listening carefully. Mickey straightened himself as well, and they were just sitting in their car, gazing softly at one another as Ian told the story, the remnants of their endeavor resting between them.

"So," He continued. "On the 21st of June, 2021, I woke up and all I could think about was that dream. It was like—like on a fucking loop inside my head, and each time I even glanced at you, I just saw the two of us, old and together.

"And I realized, as fucking weird as it sounds, that it was us. I swear Mick, it was you and me, years from now, just sitting in fucking lawn chairs, staring out into the world. Into each other's eyes." His eyes shone. "And all throughout that day, I knew that one day, we'd get there. That you and I would spend the rest of our lives together until we were wrinkly and gray and doing nothing but being together. Each time I even saw you from the cone of my eye, grumpy and frowning at whatever, I was so happy because I would get to spend the rest of my life with you.

"That, until the day I died, I would have you as my partner. My husband. My best friend. The love of my fucking life; by my side until there is nothing left in the world to do but sit by each other and just watch as time goes by.

"Just you and me, Mick. Until the end."

Mickey watched him inhale deeply.

"Best day of my fucking life, and I get to live it forever."

A tear slipped out of Mickey's eye. He felt it on his cheek, rolling down, hot against the already warm skin, yet all he could see was Ian. Ian with the shimmering orbs and that look in his eye like he was staring at everything he needed in life.

Mickey pulled his hand out of Ian's from where it was resting in his lap, then raised them to palm Ian's cheeks, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Lips moving together in the dark, serendipitous in all ways, the vulnerability for once a blessing instead of a curse.

"You never told me that story," He whispered against Ian's lips.

"It just felt right for me to know. Maybe we were just both waiting for this moment, unknowingly."

Another tear, filled with so much.

"We both live the best day of our life like that, Ian. Every single day."

Ian nodded, smiling against Mickey's lips. "I know, my love. I know."

They were sitting in their car in the middle of an empty McDonald's parking lot. It was four in the morning, star-lit darkness, the world around lit up by only them, the love palpable like a glow, allowing them to see clearly; see all the things that were important to them.

A person needed the match to their gasoline so they could light the fire that would burn and simmer. A person, too, needed the cord to their plug that would alight the darkness of the inside of their chest.

Because one would be lost without the glow in the dark. Or at least not be able to truly see.

[imjustwritingg]

pillow talk part 2

Hi friends! This second installment was highly requested here on tumblr and I figured after what happened in 8x14, it was a good time to write it. So here you go friends! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! 🥰

Also on AO3 and FFNet!

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“You jammed me up. That’s not okay.”

His words play over and over in her head as she drives to his apartment. She knows he might not want to see her, the look of disappointment on his face at the crime scene enough evidence of that possibility, but she can’t let the night end without talking to him or at least trying to.

She parks her car and goes inside his building, heart beating wildly in her chest as she makes her way to his door. She rattles her knuckles against it and waits, knocking twice more a few moments later, when there’s no answer, but the door still doesn’t open and it feels as though someone has just punched her in the stomach.

She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and calls him, brings the phone to her ear, but it goes right to voicemail. She ends the call and waits a minute or so before she redials, hoping that maybe he’s on another call and is distracted, but she just gets his voicemail again.

He doesn’t want to talk to her. Doesn’t want to see her. And her stomach lurches, shoulders heaving raggedly as her breath gets stuck in her throat.

She can’t blame him. She had put him in the most compromising position tonight, taken unnecessary risks, and made questionable choices to say the least.

She looks at his door longingly, thinking if maybe she stares hard enough it’ll open and he’ll appear out of nowhere, but the door remains closed and he’s nowhere to be seen.

She turns on her heels and wipes under her eyes at the burning tears threatening to spill over, a horrible ache pulsating inside of her as she walks back to her car and starts to head home, ready to crawl into her bed and try and sleep this night away.

When she finally turns down her street sometime later she spots his truck parked up outside of her building. He’s standing next to his driver’s side door, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted towards the ground. He’s waiting for her and the sight of him makes her heart nearly stop beating.

She can just barely make out the look on his face in the glow of her headlights, but it resembles something a lot like betrayal and it sends a rush of guilt through her immediately.

She parks a few spots behind him and takes a deep breath as she gets out of her car. She tries to somehow prepare herself for whatever he’s about to dish out to her, but she’ll take whatever he has to say because at least he’s there.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” she says quietly, approaching him with slow moving steps and a once again fast beating heart as she shoves her hands into her coat pockets.

As she stands in front of him she takes in the soft look of his eyes and the anguish that curtains his face. She realizes it wasn’t betrayal she had seen just moments ago, but sheer disappointment instead, just like earlier at the crime scene, and it guts her again.

“Figured we should talk. I didn’t wanna leave things the way we did at the scene,” he tells her, his voice a matching tone of quiet and reserved.  

“I went to your apartment. Tried calling.”

“My phone died so I just came over,” he says.

She responds with a tilt of her chin towards her apartment building in silent invitation and he follows a few steps behind her inside.

They ride the elevator up to her floor without uttering a word, him standing in one corner and her in another, time seeming to pass too slowly as if taunting her. She glances over at him, but his eyes are down to the floor, lost in his own mind and thinking too hard.

When the elevator finally halts and the familiar ding chimes through the car they step out onto her floor and head for the door of her apartment, him still a few steps behind her and keeping his distance.

She lets them into her apartment, closing the door after him and turning the deadbolt, but she’s quick to notice he doesn’t move any further inside than where he stands by the door.

She steps away from, pulling off her jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch before throwing him a look over her shoulder. “Water? Beer?”

He shakes his head and stays planted where he stands, hands in his pockets now and staring back at her as Hailey moves towards the kitchen island. She leans back against it, crossing her arms in front of her as she looks at him. He still doesn’t move or take off his jacket, and it makes her stomach churn at the memory of them standing in similar positions not too long ago when she had been so certain he was going to leave her.

She knows she made a mistake, a few of them, and she knows she hurt him and the last thing she wants is him to leave or think she wants him to, so she blows out a deep sigh and walks towards him.

“I’m sure you might want your space from me after what happened and I have no right to ask,” she says, words coming out in a rush before she hesitates, breathing out and looking at him with near desperation. “Will you please stay?”

Jay stares back at her for a fraction of a moment and it’s long enough to set her mind reeling in fear that she’s jeopardized everything between them now, but he surprises her like he always does and gives a slow nod.

“If I wanted space I wouldn’t have come. I didn’t think that’s something either of us needed right now.”

His tone is sincere despite the sadness looming over his face and she breathes out in relief as she offers a small smile and takes another step closer towards him. She reaches for his arms, pulls his hands from his pockets, feels his eyes burning into her as she pushes his jacket down over his shoulders.

She drapes it over her arm and holds onto one of his hands, her thumb brushing over freckled skin as she lifts her eyes to his, then whispers, “I’m really glad you came.”

He nods again and gives her hand a quick squeeze, but doesn’t say anything more, just follows her with his eyes when she lets go of him and goes to place his jacket down over hers on the couch. She makes her way back to him and reaches for one of his hands again, twining their fingers together as she leads him into her bedroom.

They fall into their usual routine, one they’ve created and perfected with one another since that first night together many months ago, although tonight it’s silent between them. There’s no mindless small talk or teasing one another from across the room, but it’s still so domestic and easy and somehow comfortable despite the circumstances. It sends an ache through her chest as they do their own thing, but they still do it together. As if they’ve been doing it for a lifetime already.

She strips and changes into a pair of clean underwear, and grabs a t-shirt from the basket of fresh laundry on the floor that has yet to be put away. A mindless chore she’ll save for tomorrow when she has more energy.  

She pulls the t-shirt over her head and when it falls to just above her knees, it’s only then she realizes that the garment doesn’t belong to her, but to the man standing across the room in just his boxers.

She glances over at Jay who quickly catches her eye and looks her up and down as he settles beneath the sheets and leans back against the headboard. “Is that my shirt?”

Hailey makes her way to the bed, pulling her hair out from its ponytail and dropping the tie on her nightstand as she climbs in beside him. She sits in a pretzel position as she faces him and gives a shrug of her shoulders. “I just grabbed it from the basket. I can change if you - “

He shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. “You look good in my shirt Upton.”

The corners of her mouth tip upwards at his comment, but she can’t help fiddling with her hands that rest in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” Hailey breathes out, not able to withstand the awkwardness in the air between them any longer and needing to talk to him, really talk to him. “I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have gone into that house. I put you in a tough spot tonight and I’m so sorry.”

“God, I hate that word,” she scoffs then before he can say anything and runs a hand through her hair. “Sorry. It doesn’t fix anything and I know it’s not supposed to, but apologizing still doesn’t condone what I did tonight.”

He gives a slow nod and glances down and she can tell he’s trying to find the words. The right words because he won’t be mean or raise his voice to try and make a point. Not with her.

She watches the way his shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath he takes, and then he looks back up at her with tired eyes from the stress and the chaos and the worry of the day behind them.

“I accept your apology, but I don’t want you to be sorry Hailey,” he says quietly before releasing a dejected sigh. “I want you to be safe. I want you to be smart. You crossed a line tonight and it was the same exact line you crossed that got you shipped off to the Feds last year.”

“I know,” she says quickly. “I got caught up in it. The case and Voight coming down on me and I started second guessing myself, and then that kid was killed and all I could focus on was finding the guy who killed him. I just didn’t care about doing it the right way. I felt like I had to prove something, but I just ended up losing control again.”

“I get it Hailey. Trust me, I get it. Especially when it comes to kids. And I know the system is flawed and it doesn’t always work the way it’s supposed to, but if tonight had turned out any differently than it did, we’d be screwed right now.”

“You’re right,” she says with another nod, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes because she knows how bad a turn things could have taken with her behavior and the thought alone makes the guilt inside her thicken. “I was so blinded by all of it and I just reacted. I don’t know why I keep doing these things. Crossing lines and pulling people down with me. Pulling you down with me. I was so stupid. I was reckless and I put you in jeopardy.”

Her heart is pounding in her chest, anxiety creeping up on her, as she lifts a hand to run it through her hair again.

“Voight’s not stupid though,” she continues a moment later. “He knows you covered for me. He knows we lied. I don’t want you getting in the middle of those crosshairs, not for me. I don’t wanna cause problems for you. I don’t wanna change who you are because I make dumb decisions.”

He shakes his head at her and leans forward, reaching for one of her hands and holding it tightly between both of his. “I’m not worried about Voight. He’s not exactly the poster boy for doing the right thing. I chose to get out of the car. I chose to follow you inside that house. I made my own decisions and I take full responsibility for that.”

“I put you in that position though!” She groans, blowing out a deep sigh of regret. “You know I didn’t do that intentionally right? You have to know that.”

“I do,” he confirms with a squeeze of her hand. “And you know I’d follow you anywhere Hailey, but it’s a slippery slope that you’ve been walking on and what happened tonight? That can’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” she whispers.

She knows her words are meaningless, but it’s a promise she can still make. One that she’ll follow through on. Because of him, because of them, because he really does make her better. Makes her want to be better.

She’s not sure she deserves the softness of his eyes or the warmth of his fingers wrapped tightly around hers, but she’s never been more grateful for the way he anchors her in place in that moment. The way he keeps her from spinning out completely from the frustration and the guilt of her bad decisions and the events that have transpired over the last few days.

“Um, there’s something else you should know,” she says with caution in her voice and he raises an eyebrow at her curiously. “I had to stop off at the district earlier after we wrapped at the crime scene for paperwork and I told Voight we’re together. Officially I guess.”

“Didn’t he already know? Or at least assume anyways.”

“Yeah, but I also sort of made the suggestion of getting a new partner,” she confesses. “He said he wasn’t gonna split us up though. Said we’re a good team.”

“Well, that’s one thing he’s right about. We’re good together. Always have been,” he tells her. He glances down at their joined hands and then looks back up at her, a curious gaze lingering in his eyes. “Do you really want a new partner?”

She gives a slow shake of her head and a look of regret comes over her face. “I only suggested it because I thought I couldn’t have both worlds, ya know? You and me on the job, you and me here like this. I’m trying to figure it all out, us and the work stuff. I thought I had to give up one to have the other and I’m really glad I didn’t have to do that tonight.”

“That’s good because I don’t want a new partner. I just want you, but I need you to hear me when I say you’re not alone. You don’t have to deal with these things on your own. The cases, Voight, any of it. I know that’s not how you’re used to things, having someone on your side like that, but I’m here Hailey. Let me help you carry some of it, okay?”

He squeezes her hand for good measure and stares at her with his bright green eyes, soft and sweet, one of the only ways he ever looks at her these days. It sets her skin on fire, chest aching, every nerve ending shooting off with so much love and appreciation for the man in front of her. She’s not sure what she’s done to be so lucky to have a partner like him, not just on the job, but in life as well, and it makes everything inside of her ache in the best possible way.

She nods, looking back at him with a teary eyed smile and bringing her free hand up to her face to wipe at her eyes.

“I really love you, you know that? I swear I don’t deserve you,” she tells him. “And that’s not me being self-deprecating or cynical, it’s just me appreciating what I have. What we have. I got really lucky with you.”

He grins at her instantly, the sound of her saying she loves him being one of his favorite things and because he knows exactly what she means. Their track records in dating and relationships and love have all been a wash. Nothing tangible, nothing to hold on to, to depend on. But this thing with them, this unadulterated thing with its strong foundation and an ability to communicate so perfectly, even when it’s hard, reminds him that this is the kind of thing they’ll be talking about years from now.

When they’re old and grey and still together, still talking, still loving, still trusting. Their story will be the one people ask to hear about at parties and dinners and holidays. The one that people will hear when the question is asked, “How’d you do it for so long? How’d you make it work?”

He already has his answer for when those questions are asked. It’s the same one he whispers to her now in the quiet of her bedroom and the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

“It helps having a good partner.”

Her smile widens at his words and she drops her free hand down on top of his, plays with his fingers and squeezes them against hers.

“This is becoming our new thing, ya know?”

“What’s that?”

“This pillow talk business. Our old thing was some dive or Molly’s over beer, but I gotta say I much prefer my bed,” she tells him with a grin that matches his.

“Well, I do love your bed. I might love you just a little bit more though,” he says.

It’s tooth achingly sweet the way the words roll of his tongue so easily and it has her rolling her eyes, but she can’t rid herself of the smile stretched out over her face.

It still amazes her, still makes her head spin, how they can go from talking through such serious topics of conversation, of hashing things out, to teasing one another so playfully, so intimately.

The last few days have made her second guess everything. Her ability to be a cop, to be better, to separate her work life and her personal life with him. She knows it won’t be easy, but she knows they’re going to make it. They’ll make it work.

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on the thought of it not working out with the way he smiles at her still. His eyes soft and glistening with so much love and affection as he stares at her.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Jay says then, as if reading her mind, but she doesn’t even question it. He’s always been able to read her. Know exactly what she’s thinking. Exactly what she needs.

“Yeah, we are,” she agrees with another tight squeeze of their joined hands.

“Come here,” he says with a tug of her hand.

She lifts herself to her knees to crawl the short distance to him and he pulls her down beside him. He helps her settle under the covers, their bare legs tangling together beneath the sheets, and his arms wrap her up in a cocoon of love and safety that only he has ever been able to provide her.

Her head lies against his shoulder and her arm falls across his torso, hand resting on his stomach and their eyes stay on one another in a tender gaze. She drags her fingernails over his skin in feather light caresses and he moves his arm up her shoulder to glide his hand through her hair.  

“This is my favorite part of every day,” she mumbles into his shoulder.

“Mine too,” he says, angling his head down to press his lips against her forehead. His lips linger there, pressing into her skin again, then once more before he pulls back to look her in the eyes.

“I wish I could do tonight differently,” she finds herself whispering as she stares at him. “I wish I could take it back.”

He knows instantly by the sound of regret laced in her words and the sudden appearance of sadness clouding her eyes again.

“What’s done is done. Whatever happens as a result, we’ll deal with it together,” he says squeezing her side. A gentle nudge reminding her they’re okay, that he’s got her, that things will be okay.

She turns her face into his shoulder, pressing a kiss against his bicep and moving her hand up to his chest, right over top of where his heart lies under skin and muscle and bone. It beats slowly beneath her palm, another steady, gentle reminder that he’s still there with her, that she hasn’t ruined this, them. That he’s still in it.

He stretches over her for a moment to switch off the lamp on the nightstand on her side, and then his arm falls back around her. He tightens his hold on her just a fraction more around her body as he tilts his head and kisses the top of hers before they settle into the softness of the bed and each other.

She’s always wondered how couples could sleep this way, cuddled together so closely like they show in movies and on television. She had always thought it couldn’t be comfortable for either person, but as she lies in bed with him, nestled under covers with her body pressed up against his and his arms holding her tightly, she realizes she wouldn’t want to fall sleep any other way. Wrapped up beside him is her favorite place to be. Her own little safe haven where nothing can hurt her or cause her pain or make her feel like less of who she is.

She’s never been dependent on anyone. Hasn’t ever needed anyone until him. But it’s not because she’s that kind of person, someone who needs a relationship or a significant other to make her feel better about herself or to quiet the voice in her head that whispers she’s not good enough, not worthy enough.

It’s because he makes her better. Makes her want to be better despite her actions tonight. He makes her feel invincible. Like she could face any battle and win a million times over because he has so much faith and trust in her, so much unwavering love for her.

She’s certain that regardless of everything that has happened over the last few days they really will be okay. That this thing between them is going to last, both their relationship and their partnership, that they’re it for one another. They’re the endgame.

[mrpenguinpants]

Ok like I know this is your third compliment but I'm so glad you're writing for this fandom. All your ideas are so creative and developed that none of it felt so OOC. If you can, what about angst HCs from Kaeya and Diluc. Since theyre so head to head against each other, imagine if they were in love with someone but was with their brother. Now they have to watch Kaeya/Diluc with their s/o while suffering from the sidelines ;w;

Ahh you’re all so lovely 💕 Don’t be shy to just say anything I promise I’m not scary. Your compliments makes me feel more confident ;u; I just finished diluc’s and kaeya’s hc of being jealous so I’m lowkey branching of my last hc point for both of those posts. Took a bit of a different style this time and I might have went a little too deep aha. 

Spoiler’s for Diluc’s and Kaeya’s character stories and past (but you should really read Kaeya’s story) 

---

Diluc and Kaeya: Falling for their brother’s s/o 

You had told him when it was late at night in the tavern. For the better half of a couple months, you’ve been dropping by around late afternoon asking if you could keep him company and help out since he’s been so busy during the day, and Diluc would never say no to that. It was a passing comment you made as you said goodbye to him as you opened the door to head out.  

You wanted to keep your relationship a secret from the public? Felt it was wrong to not tell him since you were dating his brother? Had you not noticed that he was in love with you for months? 

He smiles and bares it, nodding goodbye as you leave, just until that door closes and he’s left alone. He slowly unclenches his fists from under the counter as the weight in his chest gets heavier. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. The last time was when his father passed away. 

A part of him feels ashamed that he let himself get so close to you even though at the time, he had no idea you were actually in love with his brother. He hadn’t even seen you talk to Kaeya once since knowing you but to be fair, he doesn’t involve himself in Kaeya’s affairs unless it’s to protect Mondstadt. 

But as he reflects in the empty tavern, he doesn’t regret meeting you and becoming close friends. It’s not your fault, you were in love with someone else. He should be happy for you and Kaeya. 

He wants to protect the things that he treasures most. When his father passed away he lost the faith in both the gods and the knights of Favonius. He doesn’t want to push you away and lose what he still has because of his actions or behaviour. 

In the beginning, he becomes bitter to Kaeya. Before he might have humored Kaeya’s antics and random drop ins but now all he feels is rejection and this weight he can’t get rid of that start’s clawing at him whenever he sees his brother. The first time Kaeya made eye contact with him after you had told him about your relationship, he simply had a wry smile stating that he hadn’t seen Diluc’s eyes like that since he defected from being a knight. 

He doesn’t hate Kaeya or think Kaeya stole you away from him. Kaeya protects Mondstadt in the day while he does in the night. That’s how they’ve always been. When he sees you out with Kaeya in the morning he stares longingly before quickly disappearing out of sight. 

When his father passed away, Diluc's took a journey that lasted for three years. He had a lot of time to reflect on his past and the anger he had carried until he acknowledged his shortcomings. Those years away let him leave his childish immaturity and when he returned to Mondstadt, he was ready to take on his father’s will one more time. He’s been through this process once before and he’ll push himself to do it again. 

That doesn’t mean that his feelings for you will immediately leave him but he’ll learn to move on and treasure you as a friend, that you’re still in his life. There might be some days when he’s alone that he might think of the what if’s but he’ll take a deep breath, know that you’re happy, and the weight will settle down and become lighter. 

You were friends with Kaeya before you officially met Diluc. You and Kaeya had bonded over drinks and soon became drinking buddies. At first you had been a bit wary of him since he was the Cavalry Captain and thought you had done something wrong, but he really was just interested in talking since he heard you also disliked grape juice. 

Naturally, that meant that he would drop by the tavern with you and one day, Diluc happened to be there and he thought he might officially introduce you two. Maybe poke some fun at Diluc and his distant personality.  

Overtime Kaeya finds that he looks forward to your outings. Hunters and bandits are often his drinking buddies but he’s there to smooth talk them until they end up telling him everything he wants to know. But you’re not a bandit or some spy, he can let his guard down around you and just have a normal conversation without ulterior motives. It feels...nice and he let’s himself slowly relax until he ends up tripping along the way and finds himself falling. 

That is until he makes an unprompted visit to see Diluc only to find that you’re there too. He takes one look at the scene and turns around. He remembers when they were younger and how people would say they were almost like twins, knowing each other’s thoughts and intentions without having to say a word to each other. 

He think’s its some cruel joke you’re playing or maybe the Gods are cursing him over his methods. As he walks down the streets of Mondstadt, he wants to rationalize that the only reason you were so kind to him was to get closer to Diluc. Or maybe you actually were a spy? He’ll laugh to himself for thinking of such a thing as he replays the same scene in his head over and over. 

Everyone's got a secret, but not everyone knows what to do with it, he had told you this with his usual arrogant smirk one night. You were confused at his implication before he shift’s his gaze to where Diluc is. Diluc quickly turns away when you turn your head in his direction. He watches amused as you sputter about how you do not need his help with setting you up with his brother. 

On the contrary, he actually enjoys putting people into the difficult position of making tough decisions. He won’t lie and say that he hasn’t given you false information just to see you come back embarrassed. In a way, these moments are a way for him to slowly let go of his feelings by helping you get yours across. 

Diluc is direct so he’s not surprised when his brother cut’s right to the point early in the morning and asking what he’s trying to do. As Diluc’s hard stare attempts to drill into him for answer’s he thinks back on that same scene. Diluc had looked calm and in a state of content. Peaceful happiness. It’s the same feeling he has when he’s with you. 

He thinks back to another scene. It was the first and only time Kaeya failed in his duty. By the time Kaeya finally reached Diluc, it was all already over. Their father was dead and killed by his own son. 

Kaeya’s own biological father had abandoned him and it was Diluc’s father and Mondstadt that had welcomed him with open arms when he had nowhere else to go. 

Kaeya just smiles at Diluc and remarks in his typical cryptic manner that there will be a time where he won’t know where to stand. He doesn’t know when that time will come but he’ll think of you and where he would want you to be. So until that day comes, he’ll do everything he can to guarantee your safety. He can tell Diluc wants to say something but he holds back. 

To be the first yet placed second, he thinks when you come running up to him to thank him for all his help. He can see Diluc off to the side silently watching and ready to step in and he thinks of the possibilities of what he could do in that moment. Maybe he could confess that he’s been secretly in love with you before you even met Diluc? 

Instead he holds back and repays the favour from earlier in the day. He congratulates you and invites you out to drink in celebration of your new relationship. 

[creativeashproductions]

A Discovery of Ghosts // Luke Patterson

Summary: Avoiding the house, the eldest Molina sibling has been unaware of the new chapter in Julie’s life until one fateful night.

Warning: Swearing, angst, fluff and overprotective!reader

Words: 2.1k

Oh look! Another JATP fic. Weird how it appeared? Enjoy! I may have a part two for Lost Time. If you want it, let me know!

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Masterlist

The dirty bag dropped on the ground as you cracked your neck heading straight for the kitchen, for the last year you would find Julie in there. Before the loss of your mother Julie spent all her time in the studio whether it be doing homework or playing the piano. Now, with the grief still striking hot within the Molina family even a year later.

“Jules?” You called out pouring a large glass of water. Dropping the empty water bottle in the sink.

In all honesty you hadn’t been home longer than to grab a bite and sleep before heading straight back to the field. It was a way of keeping away from the sadness permeating the house and the absence of your mom. Along with avoiding the awkward conversations of selling the house when it was really only Julie that okay with it.

“Dad?” You called next grabbing the sticky note off the fridge

Girls,

Carlos had a last-minute practice. Money left in the jar for supper.

- Dad

You hummed heading for the stairs to take a shower taking a guess that Julie was either in her room or at Flynn’s place. Bag in hand along with the softball bat you started up the stairs leading to your room. The faint conversation from her room was odd to say the least, the door was closed, and it sounded like more than one person.

The door opened easily under your hand scaring Julie who was sitting on her bed with a disgruntled expression. Her look of terror and nerves was the most concerning. Dropping the bag, you gripped the softball bat tight as you pushed the door open the rest of the way.

“Jules?” You spoke scanning the room, “Why do you have three boys in your room?”

The room went stock still, each boy scanning your form and the bat in hand. Standing in uniform coated in red soil from the infield you were on the more intimidating side.

“You can see them?”

“Jules, are you okay?” You questioned ignoring her odd question with a look of concern, the bat dropped low.

The last year had been extremely more difficult on Julie than Carlos and you given that Julie was closer with Mom with music. Carlos and you hadn’t inherited the gift that Julie had been born with; yet she hadn’t found interest in sports.

“She looks like she could break us?”

You sent a confused look at the trio giving your attention back to your little sister, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately, but you shouldn’t be acting out like this.” Julie’s jaw dropped at your words, “I’m not acting out! Dad can’t see-“

“He can’t see this because it shouldn’t be happening Julie.” You sternly told the younger Molina, “Just let me shower and we’ll hang out. You can pick the movie and the snacks, but they have to go. If you want, we can even dig out the projector.”

You pointedly looked at the three boys before turning your heel to head out of her room to yours down the hall. The door was closed tight as it always was, it was your space so when the door was shut no one went in. Trust was important in your family and with Julie uncharacteristically sneaking boys in that could mean all trust on closed doors would break.

“They’re ghosts.” Julie called out from her open door. The concern for the girl growing at her words, “I know that sounds bad and makes it seem like I need to see Dr. Turner but I’m not lying.”

You sighed at the girl completely in disbelief at the length she would go to lie, “Maybe you should see Dr. Turner Jules. Seeing the doctor doesn’t make you weak.”

Julie was silent as you began to open your door before the blonde boy literally appeared out of thin air in front of you.

“Oh my god!” You screamed stumbling back from the tall male, “Oh God. Scratch that! WE both need Dr. Turner.”

Two more bursts of light happened as the other two boys appeared in front of you with sheepish expressions. You took in a deep breath finally taking into consideration of Julie’s admittance.

“I-“ You choked out, “Does this mean Benny was a ghost?”

Julie blushed at the mention of her childhood imaginary friend that she had had for a number of years. It was also a time that Tía Victoria was not welcome in your home when she went behind your parents to schedule an appointment with Dr. Turner.

“Benny? No, I’m Reggie.” The boy with slicked back black hair spoke shaking his head, “This is Alex and Luke.”

You mutely nodded clenching your fists together, “Good thing you’re a ghost or I would have punched you.”

Luke’s eyes widened at the threat, “Whoa.”

“Now move. I just got home from practice, I’m sweaty and dirty.” You announced side stepping the ghostly trio. You grimaced at the blush appearing on Reggie and Luke, “Dead but still think inappropriately.”

“We’re teenage ghosts.” Alex announced glancing at his best friends. His hands shoved deep in his pockets as you took in his words.

You glanced over your shoulder at your little sister, “Just stay out of Julie’s room. And don’t look under Carlos’ bed.”

With that you opened the bedroom door and slammed in in their dead faces. The room had drastically changed from the previous year mainly the pale pink was painted over by a new colour. It was no longer the little girl’s room your mother had decorated while preparing for your birth. It was a young woman’s room decorated to fit your personality.

Located on a wall was the rack of softball bats with a number of softballs settled in divots on the connected shelf. Your room also had the only other connected bathroom, being the oldest sibling had benefits.

“Ghosts.” You muttered jumping when a thud happened. Turning your heel, you saw that Alex had opened the door and tossed your ball bag in.

“You left this. Sorry for interrupting.” Alex apologized as he left the room again.

“Boundaries!” You called out heading into your bathroom. Alex smiled at how similar he thought you and Julie were to each other.

Half of you had anticipated Julie getting the living room ready instead of using the projector in the garage; it was a part of growing up. The first time you can remember seeing the projector was when you first got your period and it became a thing with your mom. For the length of time for you period you had movie nights in the garage and when Julie got her first period it came a ritual. It helped that as sisters your periods synched together.

“Julie.” You breathed finding that she had surprised you. She had waited in the living room for you, “You didn’t.”

Shyly the younger Molina girl nodded her head and led you to the studio outside where it decorated as if the past year hadn’t happened. The projected was brought out along with countless snacks, fuzzy blankets and soda. It was also barren of anyone else.

“I’m guessing from the amount of time you’re in here that the ghosts live here?” You deduced at the musical instruments placed in an area they wouldn’t get in the way.

“Yeah.” Julie nodded, “I’m not sure where they are.”

“Righ-“

“Reggie!” Alex hissed from the loft with an apologetic expression, “We’re finding something to do while you use the studio. We’re be gone in a moment.”

Reggie and Luke nodded in response while digging through the things that had collected up there since 1995. Your smile turned into a frown at the discontentment they each displayed.

“Jules. Do they have anywhere else to go?” You whispered feeling sad when Julie indicated that this was their only place, “Why don’t we change this?”

“Change what?”

“I know that this feels odd without Mom but maybe we can make this better. Alex, would you guys like to stay?”

The question was barely spoke before the three ghosts flashed down to the ground floor with beaming grins. Each boy nodded happily eyeing up places to sit, Luke having fallen on the couch beside you. Julie shuffled making more room on the couch draping a blanket over her lap.

“So, Julie…comedy, horror, or romance?” You questioned raising one eyebrow up waiting for the reply, “Or we can subject the boys to Twilight. Then again Alex might enjoy Mean Girls.”

After reading the short description of the film Mean Girls was vetoed out along with Horror but the issue came with the move genre. Luke wanted a film with music while Reggie was asking for romance and Alex was just wanting to watch something.

“Pitch Perfect.” Julie and you spoke together nodding frantically, it had a moderately nice balance between music and romance.

“Pitch Perfect.” Alex stated unamused at the title, “How is that romance?”

“You’ll find out.” You smirked at the male dead teenager who would more than likely adore watching films to catch up on everything he missed during his twenty-five years in a dark room.

Every once in a while, Luke would gaze longingly at the food gathered around the only two living people. It was sad given the love he had had with food when he was still alive, he would anything in sight to be honest.

“Oh my god! The Breakfast Club! That came out ten years ago! It’s popular now?” Reggie exclaimed twisting to look to Julie.

“Gentle reminder. It came out thirty-five years ago. It’s a classic John Hughes! Of course, it’s popular.” You chuckled shaking your head by leaning back. You felt the caress of Luke’s gaze on your cheek but when you glanced over, he was staring hard at the screen.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” Luke nodded with a smile painted on his lips getting further into the comedy he found somewhat interesting. It was the song choices that got to him.

The music from your Spotify playlist muted the outside world as you focused on the computer screen open to a document. Eyes shifting between the paper of notes on your desk to the half-written History essay due in a few days. The last week had been mostly adapting to being one of two people able to see the band.

“Y/N.” Luke spoke from the doorway he had poofed into. A frown pulling the corner of his lips down at the lack of attention. In an action of desperation he chucked a pencil on your back; you flinched turning to see him in your room.

“Luke?” You asked removing an earbud from your ear. The joys of 2020 came with Bluetooth earbuds.

“Oh. You were listening to music.” Luke nodded moving to grab the earbud from the desk curiously, “Where are the wires? So small! How do they work?”

Launching into a short history on the change of music technology Luke was enthralled by the passion you carried. What he didn’t know was you were researching the changes between 1995 and 2020 for his benefit. Going as far as to compile a playlist for all three boys to introduce them to modern music.

“This is insane.” Luke mumbled handing the earbud back, “Cell phones are what get me!”

“Hey, doesn’t matter if your seventeen or forty-something…you still don’t understand it.” You smirked flinching when Luke tossed a decorative pillow at you with practiced ease. The squeal fell from your lips as it happened.

“If I was forty-something this would be very wrong.” Luke cheekily retorted tapping a finger on his knee thinking back on everything that happened, “Had everything gone to plan you would have known me only by music.”

“I’m sorry you died but I’m really happy we met.” The nerves evident in your tone, something that you didn’t often show. Softball was important and possibly the only ticket to college if everything went right.

“Me too.” Luke smile at the girl across him eyes so soft he could see what Alex and Reggie were trying to tell him.

Luke had a crush. Luke had feelings for a girl living and unable to feel his touch.

“Hey! I made a playlist for you guys. Let me know when you want to hear them, and I’ll get it playing for you. I have to get back to my essay. Feel free to stay.”

Luke graciously took the earbud from your hand leaning back on the bed as you played the rock he had unfortunately missed out on. Both unaware that his fingers had grazed your hand during the handoff. Luke has a crush and he can touch her too.

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