#tw revealing clothing

[kmwonpil]

yongseung // get away // 210309

[pinkplantmakesstuff]

Did I spend ages looking at incredibly fancy gothic clothing and then decide to sketch Pép in an incredibly revealing and impractical outfit after coming up with another angsty au where he’s a vampire? Maybe so.

[tendertenebrosity]

Previous: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7,8, 9, 10, 11

 @quirkykayleetam, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @burtlederp, @paradigmparadoxical, @theycomeinthrees, @miss-kitty-whumptastic, @looptheloup

Galen climbed out from under the overhang, stumbling and nearly falling as his legs failed to straighten properly.

“Whoa, I’ve got you,” Everet said, grabbing for him.

He helped Galen down the unstable slope, hand at his elbow.  The mage felt bony and fragile under Everet’s hand, and he was hunched over, obviously stiff and in pain. Everet winced and tried not to grip too hard.

“All right?” Everet asked, letting go, hands ready in case the mage slipped again. Galen nodded, and slowly, carefully stood up straight and rolled his shoulders.

He flashed a smile at Everet once he was standing upright, clutching the cloak closed at his throat with one dirty hand - it was long enough on him to touch the stony ground. He pushed aside his dark untidy hair with the other hand.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

The cloak was slipping, and he shrugged it off and folded the bulky cloth over one arm, trying to hold it high enough not to let it drag in the dirt too much. He seemed to press it to his chest for a moment before he held it out to Everet.

He must be so cold, Everet thought. He made a negating gesture with one hand. “It – it’s okay, keep it on until you warm up a bit,” he said. “I’m pretty sure we can keep following this stream, and it’ll take us down into the next valley. We can stop and make a proper camp tonight, if all’s well – sorry, I didn’t bring much with me, but I have some travel rations we can share. Sound good?”

Galen nodded, holding the cloak against his chest.

“Hey,” he said, uncertainly, and then bit his lip. “Can I… um…”

Everet waited patiently, and then when nothing else was forthcoming he cocked his head. “What?”

The mage hunched his shoulders and shrugged miserably. “The water’s shallow here. Could I – I mean, do you think I’d have time to, um… clean myself up a bit, before we leave? I just…”

“Oh,” Everet said, surprised. He couldn’t help his gaze flicking to the mage, up and down, blood-smeared and dirty skin showing through rips in the robe. Of course he wants to clean up. Think what he’s been through. “Sure. Maybe just… fifteen minutes, though? We should get moving again.”

Galen looked relieved. “Fifteen minutes – got it.” He gestured to the side, a few metres back the way they’d come, where a bend in the stream’s path concealed the rest of it from view. “I’ll be just around there, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Everet said uncertainly. “You, um, you don’t have to… sure, yes, whatever.” He knows he’s not a prisoner anymore, right? He must do.

Everet looked down at his own hands as Galen limped and stumbled across the stones of the streambank and disappeared out of view. There was blood on him, too, pulling and itching at the hairs and forming brown crescents around all of his nails. Renard’s blood, and Mira’s.

He tried to remember if he’d seen Mira do anything especially appalling, anything that would bring her to the level of Renard and go on, get him out of your system, have fun. She had hit Galen, Everet was pretty sure, had been one of the laughing gang pushing him between them as he pleaded. But, well… Everet had participated in that, too, so did he really have any grounds to…

What’s done is done. Did he feel he had made the wrong decision? No.

Resolutely, he rinsed his hands and arms in the stream, and cleaned his knife more thoroughly as well. That done, he fetched his gear out from under the overhang, along with the wooden chest he’d carried with him through the long walk last night, and placed it on the ground ready for when they would move on.

Uneasily, he sat on his heels beside the chest. It was, as he’d seen last night, marked with the sword of mercy on the lid and the side. He tried to open it without much hope – sure enough, the lock and the hinges were as sturdy as the box itself. He’d have to ask Galen to get into it later.

The Chantry was the only group that could provide lyrium, and even though he had his doubts that the band he’d just left were really in step with the Chantry, they were obviously being supplied with it. Apart from that, Everet supposed there would be smugglers and an underground trade, but he hadn’t the faintest idea how to go about accessing that. Everet was a soldier of the Maker, a good templar, he’d never needed or wanted to know that kind of thing.

He supposed he’d have to learn eventually. That, or present himself back to the Order and hope they found his explanation for his conduct satisfactory enough not to kick him straight back out. Assuming there was something in this chest that would keep him alive until he could do that.

He thrust the chest away from him across the ground in annoyance. He hated the feeling of anxiety that filled his chest when he looked at it. He needed lyrium, needed it, and Maker damn it, he wasn’t even feeling any withdrawal at all yet but he still felt this… desperation gnawing at the back of his mind.

Everet didn’t like it. He didn’t like having to think of himself in that light.  

“I suppose I’d better get used to it,” he muttered at the ground. This was one of the prices of walking away from the templar band, and he’d chosen to pay it.

He would just feel a lot more comfortable once he knew exactly what was in the box. And, he’d also feel more comfortable once they were moving.  

The morning was serene, birdsong and the buzz of insects – but Everet found he couldn’t sit still any more. It had to have been fifteen minutes by now. He stood up, moved the box over to sit with the rest of his gear, and set off around the bend in the stream.

“Hey! Mage!” he called, a smooth stone clattering as it was kicked aside and landed in the water with a plonk. “Are you done? We should really be…”

A bright patch of red caught his eyes first - Everet’s cloak sitting neatly folded on the bank, beside a tattered greenish robe. Then his eyes fell on the figure that was halfway out in the stream.

Galen was kneeling in the shallows, the early morning sunlight making the water glint silver as it lapped around him. His wet hair was slicked back against his head and neck, leaving his battered face bare. He was, as near as Everet could tell, naked.

Everet came to a stop, words dying in his throat. He’d seen glimpses, of course, but…  

The injuries on Galen’s stomach, sides and chest were overlapping, black and red scabs over purple over yellow. Everet didn’t think there was a single place on the mage’s torso bigger than the palm of his hand that still showed pale unbroken skin. Red crusted lines criss-crossed his wrists and elbows, catching Everet’s attention as Galen raised up his cupped hands full of water.  

Somehow being clean made the wounds look starker – there was no question whether a mark might actually just be dirt. Were some of those things on his upper arms and chest burns? Everet didn’t recall seeing those.

Galen glanced up, registered Everet with a flicker of dark eyes, and continued the movement, splashing the water over his head.

“Time?” he asked, wiping his eyes with one hand and a wince. “Okay, give me a moment.”

He started to rise up out of the water, one hand on the stones for balance.

Everet whirled to turn his back on him, raising a hand to block his own view. “I – I’m sorry,” he stammered. His face burned with shame. “I – I didn’t mean to – shit – I’m sorry!”

“For…” Galen sounded a little surprised. Water splashed. “Oh. It’s okay. I’ll just… dress and be right there…”

“Yeah, sure,” Everet said faintly, eyes fixed on a tree stump halfway up the bank, feeling a little unsteady, face and neck and hands hot. “Sorry. I’ll be back there with the, um, the things. Sorry.”

He turned around, making sure he didn’t look back in Galen’s direction as he went back to their makeshift shelter.

He pushed hands into his hair and groaned.

Putting aside his embarrassment at Galen’s – state of undress - Maker, that was probably the least important thing here. God, I’m such an idiot. Why am I surprised? Of course it’s bad. I saw his face and arms, I watched the punishment he took.

Except for the burns. Those were a surprise. Where had Everet been when that was happening? His stomach dropped as he remembered a few hours spent in his tent one night with his fingers closing his ears, doing his best not to listen to what was happening on the other side of camp. Had it been then? What else had Everet missed?

He’d known the mage was injured, but seeing the physical evidence of it was still shocking. How much pain did he have to be in? Everet had made him walk all night! While he was like that! And he’d done it!

Everet blew out his cheeks in a breath, impressed. Everet was a trained soldier, with lyrium humming in his veins besides. The mage had kept up with him all night.

And he was going to have to keep up again today.

“I’m ready to go,” Galen said, from behind Everet, sounding out of breath.  

“Are you going to be okay?” Everet asked. Then he winced, ran a hand through his hair. “Maker, I’m sorry.” He turned around.

Galen was dressed, green scraps of robe showing underneath the cloak he had thrown about his shoulders again. He’d tied his hair back with a strip of cloth, a ragged dark tail that pulled it away from the planes of his face. He was shivering.

“I mean - are you sure you can keep walking?” Everet elaborated. He made a helpless gesture. “Do you need me to bandage anything, or help you clean those cuts, or… or whatever? I don’t know how to… Should I find you a healer? There might be one in the village we went through a few days ago but I don’t…”

“No, I, um….” Galen hugged himself, arms outlined in the red fabric of the cloak. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m… handling it myself. I’d rather that. But thanks.” He glanced at Everet under his lashes and gave a tentative little smile that pulled at his puffy lip. “I’m walking, aren’t I? I’m tougher than I look. Let’s go.”

“All right,” Everet said, a little relieved - but ashamed of it. Those wounds were his fault – some of them, anyway, partially his fault. He hadn’t been the one who’d inflicted most of them but they were still his fault, because he’d sat by and let them happen. He was a coward to flinch away from them now. But, he could understand if Galen didn’t want Everet touching him.  

They set off. Something of Everet’s anxiety was eased by the movement, even though he couldn’t help glancing at Galen every now and then to see how he was holding up.

“I’m sorry about… before,” Everet said awkwardly, after they’d been walking for a while. “I should’ve thought, I didn’t mean to, uh, I wasn’t trying to look at you, I just…”

“I know,” Galen said simply. He gave Everet a small smile. “That’s hardly the first time a templar’s walked in on me bathing, so… it’s fine.”

Everet frowned. I’m not sure that makes it better! Why would…

“Circle baths aren’t exactly private,” Galen explained, catching his look.

“So you are from a Circle?”

Galen nodded. Everet wondered which one, and what had brought him to the attention of the templar band. Maybe he’d ask, later.

The mage’s face was a little hawkish with his hair pulled back, a bruise softening the sharp angle of his cheekbone. His ears were… slightly pointed?

“Are you elf-blooded, Galen?” Everet asked without thinking, surprised.

The mage didn’t answer for a moment, a flush rising in the cheek that Everet could see. “I might be,” he said stiffly. “Does it matter?”

Everet could have smacked himself in the face. “No,” he said, cursing himself for a fool. “No, of course not. I just… didn’t even think of it. Until I saw you with your hair all…. Um. No, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, it isn’t important.”

Galen shrugged, his expression softening. “You keep saying sorry,” he observed. “I think that was about, um, the fifth time. I don’t know if you have to be that sorry. I… ” He cleared his throat. He seemed to be having some trouble catching his breath. “I owe you my life. I think I can spare you an insensitive question or two.”

Everet grinned despite himself. He slowed his steps without saying anything. Galen winced, occasionally, but he didn’t complain. And he didn’t seem to want to ask Everet to slow down.

Tougher than you look. I’ll say.

[pearlywritings]

Even scarred one is loved

synopsis: snippets about your partner or you having scars

pairing: Albedo, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x reader (separately)

tw: fluff, hurt/comfort, lighning scars, in Albedo’s part Rhinedottir used to be reader’s mentor, dragon features in Zhongli’s, in some parts scars are on the character, in some on reader

word count: 4k+ words in total

a/n: has been lying in my drafts since that summer event with Diluc and Kaeya's letters...

Albedo

The Chief Alchemist’s skin is a porcelain perfection. Milky white, smooth, spotless, flawless. The man can easily be mistaken for a marble statue and put on display in a museum - showing the chilling beauty of his visage. That’s what the body of a homunculus is - impeccability, when even the biggest and deepest of wounds disappear with time, no traces left behind.

You, on the other hand, are anything but. Sure, you are pretty, but the canvas of your body carries a hideous scar, a curse you got as a reminder of getting too close to what had to have stayed unknown. You should blame your mentor, really - if not for Rhinedottir’s deeds, you would’ve lived and died as a normal human.

…or would've become a monster, like everyone else. But here you are, in clear consciousness, with memories, so, you guess, the Gold saving you actually kind of pays off everything else she did.

Doesn’t mean you are proud of it. What it means is a lot of explanation to do if someone sees, and you prefer not to be bothered and reminded of the devastating events of the past, so you try to avoid neck and chest revealing clothes like a plague, no matter how many times Lisa pesters you about it.

When Albedo asks to draw you naked, you are, for the first time in centuries, shocked. Sure, you worked out your relationship, discussed and tried some intimacy, but the notion of having your skin exposed for long, of his eyes lingering on it for minutes, or hours even… It makes you nervous. Under the clothes you wear - a big, tree-like scar reaches its branches to your neck, spreading its trunk all over your chest. Your mentor, a true scientist to her guts, found you in a grave state and decided that it was better to curse the heart, before anything could happen to the brain.

The man’s fingers are gentle, when he pops the buttons of your shirt open and carefully slides the fabric down your shoulders. The dark night on your skin reflects in his cerulean eyes and something sparks in their depths. You should not, but you feel embarrassed and silently bite your lip, when he leans forward to press his cold lips to your collarbone.

“You are so beautiful…” he whispers and your heart - the one you believed was hardened forever before you met your lover - leaps in your chest. “Allow me to show what I see, [...]”

A word of endearment caresses your ear in the sounds of your native language, and at that moment you understand - Rhinedottir succeeded indeed. She did create a humanoid form of life, but it became capable of feeling and understanding feelings like a real human would. It can’t be any other way, not when he is looking at you like this, not when he is leading you to a sofa and makes you feel comfortable, not when his touch against your cheek is reassuring and attempts to chase your worries away, not when he picks a sketchbook, where you know the only pictures existing are of you.

Not when he draws the reminder of your doom like it's indeed the fraction of a starry sky painting your skin.

Ayato

Ever since you saw a long ugly scar across his back, it has been making you restless. The discovery happened when your lover invited you to attend the hot springs with him. It was a new step in your relationship, on the very border of entering its intimate part, and you were excited to accept his offer and remained elated for days before and on the day of. That is until his back was bared to you at some point and you saw it.

Ayato didn’t say anything about it, relaxing in the hot water and busying both of you with a conversation and savoring the finest tea and some sweets (which kept you slightly guarded, until the head of the Kamisato clan didn’t tell you these weren’t cooked by him). With all of that, you had no opportunity to ask him, not that you felt like you could - you are close and in a relationship, but who knows how willing he is to talk about it?

It’s been a week since then, and the sight of the scar occasionally appeared before your eyes. You must’ve gotten quieter and brooding, because Ayaka comments on it, when you pay her company in Inazuma City to do some shopping.

“Y/n, is something worrying you?” You look up from examining embroidered silk and tilt your head in question.

“Why would you think so?”

“Well… I noticed how your thoughts seem to stray away and I wondered if everything is okay. Maybe I can help?”

You hum. Ayaka is his sister and you grew to be good friends. It wouldn’t hurt asking her, right? Surely she must know something about that. And if she doesn’t? What if she knows nothing about the scar, about her brother having been hurt in the past? Ayato cares for her and would like to not expose her to things like that, even if she is a grown up woman and a skillful sword user. You need to be careful.

“Say, Ayaka…” you start, cautiously choosing your words. “Does your brother have a…tattoo on his back?”

“A tattoo?” She looks at you confused. “No he doesn’t, our clan doesn’t have a tradition like that. And I don’t think it’ll fit with the scar.”

Oh, so she does know.

“The scar?”

“Yes, the scar. You know the Kamisato clan had many enemies, and still does, but in the past it was so much worse. There were multiple attempts to,” she pauses, as if searching for the right words, “remove him from the picture… One of them nearly succeeded.”

“Is that so…” Ayaka nods and, hiding her saddened gaze, returns to looking at the fabric, thereby drawing the brief explanation to an end. Suddenly a strong urge to return the Estate fills your heart. To talk. To listen. To offer comfort and caresses if he desires so.

But as Ayaka drags you to the next store on your list, you think that you'll wait. Until he decides he wants to tell you the whole story, until he knows that he can trust you with his life.

Diluc

The room is silent. It is the dead of the night, and even so at least three people are not sleeping at this ungodly hour. You give Adelinde a grateful set of eyes, when she returns to you and your husband's bedroom with a bowl of clean water and several towels, placing all of that on the table near the armchair you've been standing close to.

"Are you sure you don't need my assistance?" She asks you quietly, glancing between you and the half-undressed man slumped on the piece of furniture. This woman is a real treasure, you think. It is true that this is her job, but she's always been doing far more than her responsibilities require. And that’s exactly why you are not going to deprive her from her sleep any longer.

"No, Adelinde, it's fine, I got this. Please, return to your room and have some sleep."

The head maid gives you a nod and then a small bow.

"As you wish. But if you need me, please, don't hesitate to wake me up."

"I hope it won't come to this. Good night and thank you again."

"May this night be kind to you."

And so she is out. With a sigh you glance at the man who remained quiet during the whole ordeal. Diluc knows he is in big trouble. He promised you to be careful, heck, he promised you to cut off his nightly outings, and here he is, exhausted and arm bleeding. He expects you to scold him or to whisper-yell at him, anything that would indicate you are angry with him, but you do none of these things. Instead you grab one of the towels, wet it and start wiping the blood off.

As you do so, you can't help but let your eyes wander all over the skin of his bared upper body. 

Scars.

So many many scars. Big, small, wide and thin, old and fresh… Each told a story and you knew a handful. Yet this time you asked for none, busying yourself with cleaning his wound to treat and bandage it.

"Diluc," his name finally leaves your lips and fiery eyes snap open - he nearly drowsed off.

"Yes?" A croaked sound he is almost embarrassed of.

"Thank you for returning alive."

You do not care that this raid has probably given him a new future scar - all you care is that he came back, that he made it out despite everything.

"But I'd really like you to stop pushing yourself this much. I am grateful you've already lessened your workload and dedicated more of your free time to me, though I want you to become dedicated to yourself too. You do tend to forget about it."

The redhead's heart clenches. He knows he cannot promise you to stop completely, but he can try and get less injured whenever he is out fighting.

After all, there are too many scars already to add new ones to the collection.

Kaeya

Fluttering of crystal fly wings. These little beautiful creatures can be found whenever in Teyvat but the first time the Alberich boy encountered them was in the vineyard of the Dawn Winery. Gleaming in both sun and moon light they felt like little sparks, slowly floating in the air, looking too tempting not to chase after them. And he used to chase after those a lot, smiling and laughing and looking at the bright world like any happy child would.

Your butterfly kisses remind him of crystal flies, caressing his face with a subtle tremble of their wings as they try to fly away. The memories of the past overtake him, making the man feel warm and cozy, as if it's not a candle lit on the bedside drawer of your bedroom, but a tender sun, licking his cheek with its affectionate rays.

Until summer heat is replaced by the blazing fire in his memory and the surging pain in his right eye. The eye you've been delicately touching with your soft lips for the past several minutes. The eyepatch is lying on the sheets near his right hip, right where you put it, after taking it off with your deft fingers. Fingers that delicately cradle his face in their loving hold, not letting him shy away from you, letting you kiss an old scar.

No words are exchanged as you sit in his lap with his palms resting on your sides, digits creasing the material of your nightwear. Kaeya is nervous. You've come to him without any explanation, and before he could climb into your shared bed and hold a blanket up for you to join him, asked to shed the shirt he's always worn to sleep. The man knew what you wanted to see - not the many scars littering his body (they weren't all that surprising to you), but the traces of burns on his back, the ones he hid from you for the longest time, not ready to tell the story, afraid to face the past. He didn't blame the one who gave him those, he could never truly, however the day he got them scarred him much deeper than skin.

Yet he did as you asked, slowly, with stiff fingers, but eventually the fabric was no longer covering his body.

You didn't ask him any questions, you didn't even say a word, as you took his hand and softly spinned him around to face his back. Your kisses could do nothing to the damaged skin, they were long healed naturally, but his inner turmoil of emotions was soothed by your display of affection.

More relaxed and less anxious he didn't protest when you made him sit on the edge of the bed and climbed into his lap. Maybe he did tense a little when you reached behind to untie the string attached to his eyepatch, maybe his fingers grabbed at your clothes a little bit too roughly, but he didn't stop you, until the little piece was off and away from his face and your lips replaced it.

He knows he doesn't deserve you, but Celestia be damned - he doesn't want to ever let you go. The only one he entrusted his heart like this, allowed you to unwrap the carefully built facade and reach to what is real about the man Kaeya Alberich is. And knowing you love him with all these ugly scars littering his skin? Makes him believe you'll still love him after seeing how scarred his heart is.

Kaveh

“Say, would you like to go shopping for our next date?”

The question takes you by surprise as you exit the bathroom of your bedroom you’ve been sharing with the blond architect ever since your relationship got more serious and you offered him to move in with you. The gorgeous man is standing in front of your full-length mirror, his back to you, undoing the numerous clips that keep his hair out of his face daily. The crimson of his eyes flashes, as he meets your stunned gaze in the reflection.

“Why so sudden?” You ask - nervously, he notes, fidgeting with the material of your night clothes.

“I noticed how you always wear overly closed clothes. I thought we could look for something more revealing?”

The way you shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by him, confusion now etched in his facial expression.

“What’s wrong, my flower?” You sigh, lips drawn in a line. He uses such a delicate word to address, but you are anything but.

“Does it bother you? The way I dress, I mean.”

“Hm? No, of course not,” Kaveh shakes his head, turning to face you. “You look pretty in whatever you wear. But you must be uncomfortable, walking around wearing so many layers when it’s scorching outside. Just the other day you were so dazed, I was afraid you’d pass out before we reached home.”

Even now he can’t help but question the rather covering night clothes, especially compared to his bared upper body. He was sure to discuss it before you started sharing the bed, and you never showed discomfort about it, but somehow always avoided the topic of your own choice of night wear.

As he is pondering over the topic in his head again, you chew on your bottom lip. It was foolish of you to think he’d never notice your strange behavior in regard to how you dress, or rather started dressing after getting together with him.

But it’d be unfair to keep your lover in the dark, after he was so open to you, right?

“Hey, lovebird?” Kaveh snaps out of his thoughts, when you call him, settling on the edge of the mattress and patting the place by your side. The blonde immediately joins you, eagerly accepting your hands sliding into his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“Does anything bother you?” He beats you to it, making you sigh again, feeling how your heart is wildly thumping against your ribcage.

“Promise you won’t feel differently about me?”

“Never,” the firmness and the speed with which he confirms your statement brings some comfort to your worrying self, giving you strength to proceed.

“You know I used to work closely with matras, yeah?” He nods. “This job isn’t particularly harmless, so I, um,” gulping you search for any indication of - you don’t even know what - in his eyes. Whatever it might be, there is none, only softness hidden behind the ruby gems, pouring in gentle waves, caressing your being, making your heart flutter, and words abruptly leave your mouth.

“I have scars.”

“And?” Your eyes widen, when he cocks his head to the side, looking at you with a clear lack of understanding.

“‘And?’!? Kaveh, come on!” You groan, looking to the side. “I mean look at you! You are absolutely gorgeous, and I know how much you appreciate fine things, which I am not…”

“Is this the reason why you’ve been dressing like this and changing in the bathroom all this time?”

“...yeah…”

“Oh, darling,” a warm smile brightens up his face and he leans forward, kissing your cheek. “First of all, you are not a ‘thing’. Secondly, I am such a fool for not noticing sooner. I assure you, you are already so amazing and I can’t imagine some scars scaring me off. Truth be told, I fell in love that moment I saw you handling that lying bastard to the ground.”

“You mean that day you looked at me with literal hearts in your eyes, scrolls tightly held to your chest and mouth open?” He immediately grows bashful, but the smile gets bigger - you are teasing him, that’s a good sign.

“Yeah, yeah, that. What I am trying to say is that in my eyes you are already wonderful. We can take it slow, but would you trust me and show them one day?”

The way you lean into him burying your face in his neck tells him everything, and yet the blonde is delighted to hear your quiet answer.

“Of course.”

Tighnari

Tighnari curls his tail around your hip tighter when another clap of thunder disturbs the night. His ear twitches, sensitive to the sound which easily shakes him out of sleep, eyes immediately trained on the window to make sure it��s closed.

When a flash of light rips through the dark clouds that overtook the sky, the man’s pupils narrow in slits out of pure instincts, and he makes a sound of discontent, drawing your body closer to his. Which, as he quickly realizes, wasn't the brightest idea, as you start squirming and groaning. Tighnari curses under his breath, when you yawn and attempt to stretch in his hold, eyelids slowly sliding up, revealing your precious orbs he loves so much, to the curl of his toes.

You owlishly blink, directing your gaze to your lover’s face, then blinking again, trying to get rid of the veil of sleep and make out his features in the dark.

“‘nari…” you rasp, reaching to his cheek, tenderly touching it with just the fingertips. “Why are you still awake, dear?”

The fennec man opens his mouth to give you some excuse, to lure you back to the dreamland, but another burst of electric light and the loud rumble accompanying it cuts him off, forcing his body to stiffen. You crane your neck to look behind you. The understanding quickly dawns on you and, humming, your body moves.

Tighnari’s eyes slightly widen in panic when you sit up, leaving the lock of his arms, letting only his tail rest on your thighs. But even it soon ends up on the mattress when you stand up and wobble to the window. A soft rattle of closing curtains for a moment blocks another clap of thunder, and you returning to his side not a few seconds later soothes his nerves.

“Still hits badly?” You ask softly, reaching for his hand and sliding your fingers between his. He can only nod, dropping his forehead to your shoulder and squeezing his digits around yours.

“I know it’s hard,” you press a sweet kiss to the top of his head, right between his droopy ears, “but I also know you’ll overcome it. And I will be with you all the way.”

“How did you manage?” He finally speaks for the first time through the night and he sounds so tired.

“You mean this?” Even in the darkness he sees how you tug on the hem of your shirt, revealing multiple scars, akin to the tree limbs, tracing the path the electricity took as it traveled through you. That electro-wielding scam really got you in the past, Tighnari knows it took a lot of time for you to recover - both physically and mentally. He was there to see it, as you were sent to the Gandharva Ville for rehabilitation, way before you two started dating.

He nods again, curling his tail around your figure once more.

“Well,” you glance at his shoulder, where under his own shirt, the similar scar is hidden, one that has an even ghastlier story behind it, “truth be spoken? Under your care and with your guidance. You were the one to drag me out of depression and fear, and I am ready to do the same to you.”

The man hugs you tighter, tucking your head under his chin and sighing shakily. He knows eventually the scar will just be a scar, something to match with you and have a story to tell to the stupid rangers and passersby of Avidya Forest for the sake of caution… It’s your willingness that counts though, filling his heart with warmth and making him forget of things surrounding him.

Tonight, despite the foul weather outside, he will be able to sleep. With you by his side.

Zhongli

The life among mortals was peaceful and fulfilling, and the retired Archon enjoys to fullest everything it has to offer. But sometimes he can’t help himself, leaving the house in the city he shares with you, his spouse of many centuries, if not thousands of years. He takes a long stroll to the land of the adepti, where he is always welcome to stay and reside, unbothered if he desires so.

In the mountains, on peaks hidden behind the clouds, the stoic man can allow his control over this mortal form slip, revealing horns, adorned with gold, long tail of earthly color and long fluffy trail of autumn-colored fur on the tip of it, eyes, more reptilian than human like, shining like finest cor lapis, and scales covering some of his skin.

Often you find him on one of the mountain tops, basking in the sunlight and squinting like a content cat would do. Your lover prefers to shed some of his clothes, baring his skin and scales to warm rays, making them shine beautifully - both because it makes him happy and because he knows you can join him, thus the dragon does want to show off to you.

This time you sense him on Mt. Hulao and upon arriving there spot the half-dragon Prime adeptus resting near the lake, having abandoned his long robe (he does change his attire whenever he is out of the city) and resting on his side. Quietly walking closer you see how the tip of his tail lazily grazes the surface of a cool lake nearby and smile. The next moment the water splashes just barely miss you as you jump to the side when the very same tail whips into your direction.

“My love, I see you are playful today,” your husband grins contently, not opening his eyes but retrieving his tail so you could finally come closer and sit with him.

“I am sorry, the gem of my heart. Simply couldn’t help myself,” your presence is welcomed and the gentle touch of your hand against the side of his neck sends pleasant shivers down his spine.

A comfortable silence falls between you two. Zhongli relishes in your loving caresses, while you make sure to glide the tips of your fingers everywhere you spot the scales of who he really is.

In his human body, Zhongli’s skin is flawless. It doesn’t bear any reminder of hardships and war times, when he fought, injured and got his own wounds, but his other self does. You remember the last time you saw him in his full beast glory - while beautiful and shiny, his scaled body was scarred. Like this, in his adeptus form you could witness some of the scars as well, each reminded you of this or that ghastly cut delivered by his enemies and with time healing into nothing but long lines of imperfection. Yet you do not hate them, nor does your husband. They simply tell the stories of the past, and make you both remember that despite any obstacle or danger he faced, he always made it out in the end.

[kachowden]

hihi!! can you say more about cameron?

Cameron (Yandere Therepaist) Facts and Info

Tw: Mild Yandere themes, Nsfw mentions

In terms of what type of yandere Cameron is, he’s actually a fairly manageable one.

You have to keep in mind, that before you came into the picture he was a normal dude.

I mean a wealthy normal dude but yknow still normal. Went on dates. Experienced break ups. Though after college he focused more on his career than anything.

As a romantic partner, he’s actually quite the romantic. Maybe a bit more, marital, in his behavior, likely referring to you both as if you’ve been wed already, but other than that he’s really not that bad

He’s very willing to help around house, and will gladly assume the role of either being the breadwinner or the househusband.

Money isn’t really a problem for Cameron, the problem is that he can’t help himself but to spend it all on you.

Expect a lot of gifts. Constantly. On random occasions. It doesn’t even have to be a holiday

Realistically you could probably give him a compliment one day and within a few hours he’ll be a blushing mess handing you a new present wrapped with a pretty bow. (He’s good with his hands)

While Cameron is willing to clean the house and take care of any of your needs, I will admit he’s not the best cook.

If he offers to make something for you, I’d recommend takeout instead.

Now if we have a look at his more, not so great qualities, it’d be important to mention his jealousy problem.

He’s good at hiding it in public don’t get me wrong! He’s pretty well behaved when it comes to someone flirting with you in front of him

A charming smile, a hand on your hip, a kiss on your cheek, simple stuff like that to get the other person to take a hint.

If all else fails he may call the cops and report them to authorities as a dangerous criminal. Whyd they confess to a bunch of crimes they didn’t even commit? Who knows.

Despite how he acts in public though, at home it’s a considerably different story.

He’s not an angry guy, but everyone has their limits.

And sometimes he needs to blow off some steam after having those limits tested.

If he’s feeling more neglected and needy, then expect a night full of worship and adoration.

He’s on his knees all night for you. Consider yourself pillow royalty for the night. Just make sure you have your attention on him the whole time.

And if you’re feeling particularly sweet, you can have fun reducing him to tears as well! He’ll definitely let you take the reigns.

He wants you to remember how wonderful of a partner he is. How obedient he can be. How good he can make you feel, and how no one else will make you feel this way.

If he’s feeling particularly ignored or disrespected though, you’ll be on the receiving end of some deliciously exhausting hours.

He won’t hurt you, no not in a million years.

But he might take you so many times that either your brain turns to mush or are reduced to tears.

All while he keeps whispering how much he loves you in your ear

How much you need him. How he should be the only one allowed to touch you like this.

But on nights where you’ve merely been gone for a long time, just expect to come home to a wonderful partner, dressed in the most revealing of clothes, and ready to service you however you want.

A/N: tysm for the support anon <3

[spookyji]

# taehyun + night wear !!

tw. f!reader, perv!taehyun, clingy, cunnilingus, fantasizing, unprotected, fingering, dirty talk. minors dni + nsfw !!

a/n. part 3! sorry about the delays, wrote like 50% of this w one hand cooperating lol

mini series masterlist

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tipping back your chair, you balance backwards, staring at the ceiling. you despised studying; I’d anything, you’d rather do anything instead of such a boring task. with how dumb you were, you thought, it wouldn’t make a difference between studying and not. sadly, you flop down on your bed, your phone dial tone jingling as you await a call. “hello?” “taehyun!” you squeak, excited by his response. “aren’t you studying?” he asks softly, knowing that it was rather unlikely. “i was, i swear!” “right.” “ok, maybe i wasn’t. still though, ill fail!” you whined, sadly acknowledging the truth. “i can tutor you,” taehyun offered, knowing that you’d need it. “really?” your excited response brought a smile to his face; it had been barely a day since you spent time together, but he knew how clingy you got when you were. “i can be there in 30 minutes?”

after exchanging brief farewells, you rolled out of bed, sitting in front of the mirror to fix your hair. before you even knew it, a knock at your door brought you to your feet, answering to taehyun’s gentle smile and armful of books. “taehyun!” you beamed, engulfing him a hug. prepared as always for your sudden clinginess, he easily maneuvers his textbooks into one hand to avoid hitting you, your head resting against his chest. “okay, okay.” with his small laugh and a pat to your back, your grip around his waist loosens, fingers finding their way to his wrist as you pull him into your bedroom, lying down on the floor as he sits beside you. “so, where did you leave off?” taehyun starts, knowing how likely this study session would go; you were already lying down, not to mention already lacing your fingers through his. he couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his heart at your cute actions; so sweet and clingy, always wanting his help and attention.

“when you do polynomials, you want to factor first, like this.” drawing numbers in parentheses, his thin, elegant fingers distracting your attention. the dark sky peeked in through your curtains, slowly making you sleepy as you attempted to pay attention. math always was sleep inducing, and it didn’t help that your insanely handsome boyfriend had a soothing, gentle voice. “are you paying attention, angel?” softly ruffling your hair, taehyun sighs affectionately. “it’s okay if you’re sleepy.” “sorry,” you pout, “can’t really focus.” “that’s okay, we can stop here if you want,” he offers. “no, want to change first and then continue?” blinking in surprise, a warm smile crosses his face as he nods, sitting against your bed frame and stretching his legs out as he waits for you to come back.

closing the door to your closet, you dig through your clothes. finding a cute set of night clothes, you slip them on, perking up at how they complimented your figure. usually you’d wear a comfortably large t-shirt, but why not dress up a little? the lower neckline accentuated your collarbones, short dress length exposing your pretty legs. “im back!” you cheerfully call, lying back down on the floor, a short break to change refreshing your mood. as you copy down the problems he’d circled for you, you fail to notice taehyun’s gaze land on your legs, particularly the hem of your night dress. teasingly close to showing your underwear, thin material lightly settling over your curves. something about how you would wear such a revealing item of clothing to bed sent blood rushing to his crotch, so delicate and cute but so delicately indecent.

imagining how it would ride up as you slept, clinging to your figure yet revealing your soft stomach and thighs. imagining how it would look bunched up, exposing your breasts and lacy underwear, as you looked up at him, so sweet and innocently—“taehyun?” your voice breaks his fantasy, twirling the pencil in your hand as you look expectantly at him, chin resting in your hand,. “sorry angel, did you say something?” he asks, blinking away the perverted images that flooded his mind. “you’re hard.” you reply, cocked head gazing directly at his very visible hard on.

“i—sorry love,” he starts, beginning to pull his shirt down to cover himself, before your small hand catches his midway. “why?” reaching to palm his crotch, on all fours over his legs, face to face with his flushed face. “you know you can do anything at all to me,” you whisper, licking your lips, “anything at all. after all, i owe you for tutoring me.” firmly gripping your hand over his crotch, “you have no idea what you do me,” taehyun breathes, before immediately scooping up your scantily clad figure, tossing you on your bed with ease as he follows you.

you giggle as he roughly shoves up your nightgown, your panties soaked at his desperate man handling. “such a tease.” taehyun pants, pressing two fingers against your clothed core, gently pushing smal circles into the wet spot formed, as you let out a high pitched moan, thighs clenching around his forearm. “you know better, love,” a stern but breathy voice sounding as your legs are abruptly forced apart, hands firmly pining them down as taehyun’s warm breath tickles your cunt. “push aside your panties for me, angel?” obeying, your small fingers reach down and slide your underwear aside, revealing your sopping pussy, whimpering with anticipation. licking a stripe up your cunt, cute mewls of pleasure filling the charged air as his tongue dips into your folds, savoring your juices.

“agh—taehyun—!” your sweet cries escaping your throat, hands clinging to the sheets as taehyun sucks your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with a flick of his tongue. your hips buck into his face as you whimper in arousal. “desperate slut, always acting so innocent but making such lewd sounds.” teeth bite into your soft thigh, trailing nips and kisses marking up your untouched skin. “t-taehyun, w-want to cum,” you squeak, feeling his tongue slide up your slit, a hand leaving your thigh in favor of inserting three fingers into your count. “ah—! t-too much!” needy cries break free as he curls his fingers in your cunt, lips pressed against your clit as he sucks lightly, sending pressure flooding to your core. “i-i’m—!” you mewl, the knot in your stomach releasing as you cum all over his tongue and fingers, hands clamping over your mouth in embarrassment at your loud cries. glancing down, your face burns with red as you see taehyun lick his lips covered in your juices. “such a spoiled angel,” he sighs, “tastes so sweet.”

“w-want your c-cock,” you whimper, gazing down at his hard bulge through his sweatpants, “h-have i been good?” “anything my angel wants,” taehyun smiles softly, gazing down at your wrecked figure as he pulls down his sweats and boxers. night dress bunched up above your breasts, legs splayed about with dark red kiss marks littering your inner thighs, pussy swollen and dripping in cum. so ruined, all by him. sliding a hand up your leg, taehyun pushes your knee to the side of your chest, panting softly as he slowly pushes the head of his cock in your abused folds, lips finding your breasts as he decorates them in bites, kiss marks bruising purple red and wet with saliva. “so sweet and pretty,” sighing affectionately as he sheathes himself in your plush walls, waiting for your small nod before thrusting in and out, gentle but deep. lips finding one another, controlled pushes as you bite his lip, his free hand reaching down to play with your sensitive, abused clit. swallowing each others erotic moans, hitting your sweet spot, delicate walls feeling every ridge and vein of his cock. your fingers trace up his arms, resting around his neck as he pushes deeper and deeper, velvety folds welcoming him as pressure climbs in your core. erratic, saliva coated kisses replace the gentle ones of before, tugs on your clit to push you towards your orgasm. gasping only for a breath, taehyun aggressively presses his lips against your swollen ones, climaxes reached simultaneously as your cunt milks his cock of his release, your cum coating his length as the pressure in your abdomen undoes itself.

dizzying kisses slow as taehyun pulls out, cradling your body in his as you lean into his chest, panting softly. “mm tired,” you sigh, resting your head in the crook of his neck, “stay over?” “of course, love,” he murmurs into your hair, threading his fingers with yours. “need to clean up,” taehyun nudges you, but you cling to his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso. “no, too tired.” you yawn, mumbling sleepily into his skin. “hmm?” he asks, unable to hear your soft whispers. “…sing?” you repeat, resting your ear against his chest, the strong beat of his heart lulling you to sleep. running his other hand through your hair, taehyun gazes down at your sleepy figure lovingly as he softly begins to him, finding a comforting tune to sing as he watches you rest.

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pervy yeonjun’s next~ also kudos to the er nurse who saw jjun in my phone case and asked if he was my bf <3 i wish but impossible

[roxineedstosleep]

how are you? How you're doing well. I was wondering what yandere bruce wayne woild be like to his s/o and kid they had together? Would he treat them differently than the other family,would he be protective etc? Personally I think his tendencies would be ×2 if the kid looked like his s/o

oh and how would the batfam be? (Jason,dick,tim,damian)

A baby from his beloved SO!

(This is just a refference of OS and Bruce’s baby, a baby and daddy time)

I would say that, indeed, this child would be loved. Really love and wanted, at least by Bruce. (TW: he replace SO’s natality control pills)

Mind you, Bruce loves all his children equally, he really does! And definitely that his new offspring would have shared ties with the reader would just be the icing on the cake; Bruce would love his reader's baby even if it didn't have his genes running through its veins.

Would his yandere tendencies apply to the baby? At the moment I think he'd be looking to tap into all those facets that he missed out on with his other children.

Sure, adopted kids are loved and wanted, but Bruce never changed Dick's nappies, or made Jason's lunch airplane, Tim never experienced the first day of school with Bruce. He adores them with a passion and would sacrifice himself for them, he knows it and so do his kids; that's more than enough. But, as I said, they couldn't experience the things that a baby or a child could with him.

With Damian, as much as he is his son by blood he was denied several things; firstly, if it wasn't for Ras's disappearance and Thalia's need to seize power, Bruce would never have found out about Damian. So he could never exercise full parternship with him. Sure, he's grateful that Damian came into his life as a child, but after that, he really wonders a lot of things about early childhood and his time as a baby.

So, from what you can speculate, he would go crazy with love when he sees the whole pregnancy process. He'd take his wife to all the best doctors' appointments, make the room next to him the baby's new nursery, massages and stretch mark creams would be his favourite job of the day, plus he'd be grabbing the baby bump every chance he gets.

Av ery Obssessive father and husband, always watching SO and their belly. So would never ever have a chance againf to be alone. NEVER.

He would be the kind of parent who would interrupt half a chase to go out of his way, buy his SO's craving, and ask one of his children to relieve him so that he could go and give his SO his craving of the moment. No matter how weird it is.

He would cry more than his SO when it's time to buy clothes or look at toys. All Superman and Green Lantern themed, but his SO seemed happy with those cute little pyjamas and stuffed animals with that theme. Sure, he snuck a Batman pillow or two in there, but he wouldn't go against his partner's wishes.

He gets excited at every ultrasound, and his social media accounts would be filled with every new ultrasound during those 9 months. He would even build a new maternity ward and donate millions to underprivileged mothers and children, just because his SO (who by then has Stockholm Syndrome) wanted other mothers to have a safe and secure motherhood.

He wants to make sure he has all the experiences he could never have with his other children, the baby showers, the gender reveal, the name discussions, the nursery decorations, the laundry sorting.

It's something his SO gave him, something he never thought he could experience. Is what he's doing not enough? For him yes, it is little and he would give more if he didn't know that his SO is now tired from the weight of the baby and the hormones are making her uncomfortable.

Now, the baby is born, would Bruce act differently?

Partly yes, a baby is really hard work, and he doesn't want his SO to feel burdened or abandoned with the baby's upbringing. No.

Bruce would spend as much time as he can and make time in his schedule to make parenting a 50/50 split if possible.

His other children understand that, they really do. Dick occasionally jokes that this baby could be his son and doesn't refuse to babysit or replace his father as batman if he sees that he and his stepmother are exhausted.

Jason would manage to keep things in the crime world pretty quiet and calm, just because he knows how fucked up it is to have to balance his adult life and taking care of his new baby brother. How will he take the baby out on his pram ride when the whole city is destroyed?

Tim wouldn't hesitate to do some stock market shopping to secure an emergency mattress for his new baby. That, and he's created a detailed list of the best preschools and has a background check on every single person with a teaching degree in the city. Only the best of the best for your new baby brother.

And Damian, Damian loves being a big brother, when the baby was born he wouldn't stop thanking the SO for giving him the best gift in the universe, he would sing cute and cuddly songs in Arabic to calm the baby and take him to play with his pets so he could feel at one with nature. Always like an alcon watching over and protecting.

They do not feel any kinf of jealousy or anything similar. Of course Damian would be a bit upset because he cannot sleepclose tou you or Bruce, but, he and his older brothers understnd that a baby needs more attention and care. They also loves the baby alot!!!

And Bruce? I can feel him relaxing a bit, I mean, he's already tied his SO to his and his family's side for good. Now, that he might secretly break his own moral code, to ensure the safety of you and his growing family…those are details no one should know.

[devilanon]

omg omg what about Simon coming home with a collar and a leash!! being excited/nervous how they'll react? btw i LOVE your writing and you should know you're super talented :D

thank you anon :-) i do my best. contains both collaring for simon and reader. [nsfw below cut, gn reader, pet play? choking tw]

He just kind of slaps it on the table without preamble. He comes home, toes off his shoes, and gestures to the inconspicuous black bag he's brought home with him. “Got you a gift,” he says, tone flat. If it were anyone else you’d find it rude, but it’s Simon, so you see it as more of a mark of anxiety than anything else. He seems unwilling to meet your eyes, looking at you, then the wall, then the bag. He’s not normally so… twitchy. “Oh, what is it?” You peer over the table at him, waggling your eyebrows, just to needle him a bit. It works. He lets out an irritated huff. “Just fuckin’ open it,” he says, pushing it further toward your person, and now he really can’t look at you. (He's flustered. How sweet.) You open the (now conspicuous in how discreet it is, given the context) packaging to reveal a studded leather collar and a chain. "…Oh."

FOR HIM.

You blink up at him, holding the chain heavy in your hand. “For me?” He clears his throat a little, and you can see a flush rising onto the apples of his cheeks. “For me,” he clarifies, voice low and gruff. …Say no more. You can work with this.

Simon is not a good puppy. Not at first, anyway. He’s always been headstrong, difficult. He has an attitude, a sort of cockiness about him that needs to be... trained out of him.

For instance, on one occasion, you collar him and then set about doing paperwork while he's sitting at your feet, quiet, looking pensive. Over time he inches closer until he's resting his head on your knee. It's actually quiet cute, his big stone-gray eyes looking up at you, the collar affixed neatly to his thick and muscled throat; not too tight, just enough room to slip two fingers under the leather and tug. He's looking for attention, so you give it to him. You card your fingers through his short-cropped hair and he flutters those pretty eyelashes at you.

And then he's humping your leg. Grinding his half-hard cock against your clothed calf, making no show of hiding it. You gasp, yanking him back by the leash, and he lets out a choked gasp at the pressure on his neck. "Bad!", you chide, frowning down at him.

He's undeterred, because of course he is. "You like it."

You quickly learn punishment doesn't work. Edging is a pain because he can and will outlast you, should he put his mind to it. Impact play just gets him harder. In fact, he'll act out just to get a slap on the face, a bop to the nose. It almost becomes a game to him, frustratingly.

What does work is praise.

You have to ignore Simon when he's acting up, and reward him when he's being good. When he sits with his head in your lap innocently, keeping his hands to himself? "Good boy." He lets out a satisfied little chuff, closing his eyes when you rub a thumb over his cheek, let him suckle on it as you press it to his plush lips. (He has an oral fixation, but that's another story entirely).

When you pull him closer into your sex while he's giving you oral, chain wrapped tight around your hand, babbling praises at him as he sucks and licks at you, he looks like he's died and gone to heaven. He nods, eyes glazed, mouth slick with spit; yes, yes, he is a good boy, keep saying that to him, thank you.

Pull on his collar when you're on top, riding him, making his vision blur and his breathing stutter, and he's a goner. Even better if he's fucking you from behind and you yank the chain over your shoulder, forcing him deeper into your heat.

FOR YOU.

"For me?" You delicately trace the studs on the collar, feel the cool metal, the weight of it in your hand. "For you," he answers, looking at you curiously, trying to gauge your reaction. He gives you an out, then, nodding to the collar - "If you're interested." Of course you are.

He isn't too mean, despite what some may assume; it's less about dehumanization and more a show of dominance, ownership, caretaking, even.

He slips his fingers through the slack of the collar, using it to pull you up and down on his cock as you suck him, the slow drag of your mouth making him groan and curse. He heaps praise on you; "Good puppy, taking me so deep. Good fucking puppy."

He'll have you ride his boots, leaving them wet and shiny with your spend. He'll lean back in his office chair, legs spread wide, his thick, muscled thighs straining in his jeans, and he looks down at you with something like disinterest, like he's watching some a pet of his do something mildly irksome. "That's it, puppy. Hump my fucking boots. I know you want to." He wraps the leash around his knuckles, pulling so that you're forced to look up at him, eyes wet with tears and face burning with embarrassment.

Definitely yanks the shit out of the leash when he's fucking you from behind, though, so he can force you into a deeper arch while he slamfucks you, the fat of his hips clapping against your ass. It drives him a little wild, the sounds you make with your windpipe compressed.

[trippy-thot]

No More (Xavier Thorpe)

TW: Overstimulation, Unprotected Sex, Dub/Non-Con, Cheater!Xavier, Creampie, Dacryphilia

A/N: idk how I feel ab this, like my writing wasn’t the best

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You don’t know how you ended up here. In this position to be exact. All you wanted to do tonight was to watch the new Scream movie with your best friend.

★・・・・・・★

“Xay! Open up.” Your knocks onto the dorm room door we’re in intervals of 3. It was cold and you’d been out here for a solid 2 minutes waiting for him to open the door. Just as you were about to call it a night and go back to your hall, the door opened revealing your best friend.

God, he was hot. There was no denying that Xavier Thorpe was sculpted by the gods themselves. How could he not be? With his chiseled jaw and toned body. His perfect 6-pack that led into an even better v-line. And his hands. His large, veiny hands. Hands that would fit ever so nicely around your-

“Hey? Eyes up here.” He snapped his fingers, forcing your attention up from his towel wrapped waist to his eyes. The blush that crept across your face couldn’t be helped. Clearing your throat, you pushed him out of the way and walked over to his bed. The door shut and you could’ve sworn you heard the lock click as you grabbed everything out of your bag. His footsteps echoed through the small room and into the bathroom, no doubt putting clothes on.

A small part of you wanted him to stay the way he was. There was no harm in looking at him as long as you didn’t do anything, right? I mean c’mon, who were you to destroy his relationship? Especially if it was with Bianca. Not only was she the queen-bee of Nevermore, but also your friend. Maybe it was for the best that he put clothes on. It helped to suppress all the feelings you had for him. And the thoughts.

After setting out the few snacks and getting the movie loaded, you patiently waited for him to come out of the bathroom. But as per usual, he took his sweet time. God forbid you had to be back in your own dorm by 10. Everything had to revolve on Xavier’s time. With another shiver running down your spine, you decided to take this opportunity to put on some extra clothes. You only had yourself to blame for wearing some pajama shorts and a shirt. Looking around you didn’t want to go through all of his clothes in the closet so instead you settled for the hoodie on his stool.

His scent filled your lungs as you put it over your head. Something along the lines of mint and fresh laundry. A smile plastered your face as you did, the fabric making you feel warm instantly. Xavier was still in the bathroom so you took initiative (Again), to look through some of his artwork. Roaming his sketchbook, you flipped to the back part since you’d been familiar with his previous pieces. Drawings of the lake, quad, and friends were on each page. But the very last one caught your attention. It was of you. Not just of you smiling and laughing. No. The drawing was of you sprawled out on his bed, completely naked. Tears streamed down your face as your hands pushed up. “You ready to start the movie?”

The voice of your friend caught you off guard, making you slam the book on the table. There were no words to say to him. You didn’t know what you could say. So with a nod, you got up and sat on his bed. He did the same, but it was a bit awkward. The twin size bed was barely big enough for Xavier’s 6’2 self so what makes you think the both of you would fit? Apparently he was thinking the same thing. Without warning he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up, placing you in between his legs. The brief silence was cut short when you began the movie. Even after it started his hands didn’t leave you. Barley 15 minuets into the movie and you could even pay attention. Not with the way his chest was against your back. His hands affectionately rubbing circles into your sides. Especially not with the way his chin rested on your shoulder, his breath grazing your ear.

You were turned on to say the least. It made you feel like shit though. Knowing that it should be Bianca in your place. All you and Xavier are, are best friends! So why was he being so handsy with you? And why weren’t you doing anything about it?

“Is this the hoodie that was on my stool?” Your thoughts were interrupted at the sounds of his voice. Again, you only nodded; Trying your best to focus on the movie and not the way he seemingly pushed himself closer to you. “Is there something wrong? Why aren’t you talking?” His tone became more stern, demanding almost. Shaking your head no, you turned the movie up on the computer. Xavier didn’t like that answer. Hence the way he forcefully gripped your chin to make you face him. Panic arose in you as he did. He was going to ask about the drawing. Ask you what you saw and what you looked at. Then he’d kick you out or something worse. He took notice of your facial expression, his own softening. “Aw, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. I just want to hear your pretty voice.” A thumb ran across your cheek as he smiled. It was hard to stay scared at such a beautiful face. Finding yourself melting into his touch and his voice you finally spoke. “I was just cold. But I didn’t want to go through your closet.” He smiled again and leaned closer to you. “So you went through my sketchbook instead?” Face dropping, your eyes winded. Any hopes of him not asking? Vanished.

“No?” Rolling his eyes, he looked from you to the desk. “Don’t lie to me. I saw you go through it. The way you smiled while you flipped through the pages of the lake. How impressed you were with the one of the quad. And the way your legs closed, mouth parting when you got to the last page. You know, the one of you on my bed? Where you’re crying oh so prettily for me?” Flabbergasted didn’t even begin to describe how you felt. Babbles of you denying it and trying to make an excuse didn’t phase him. He knew that you saw. And based on the way you were avoiding eye contact, your cheeks getting flushed now, proved that to him. After a few more seconds he got tired of your excuses and decided to shut you up with a kiss.

A harsh one. His lips met yours, hungrily biting at them. It took you by surprise, making you gasp. This gave him an opening to shove his tongue into your mouth. As he attempted to explore, you shook your head, trying to stop him. Of course it didn’t work. I mean, seriously. Where’d you get the idea you could ever overpower him? With your weak self, smaller than him. Hands gripped your hips harshly, making you yelp. Finally he removed his mouth from yours, reaching over to move the laptop off the bed. In one swift motion he had you flipped onto your back, his large body hovering over yours. The fear in your eyes, trying to hide the desperation made him feral. Xavier pulled off your shorts, then his hoodie along with your shirt, leaving you only in your panties. He ogled your chest with his eyes before leaning down and sucking harshly on your boobs. His left hand gripped your waist tightly to sure you wouldn’t get up while the other groped your right boob. Eventually he switched, not carrying about your kicking or thrashing of your arms. When he finished your nipples were swollen and perky.

Eyes meeting, he felt his boner grow at the sight. It was just like his drawing. Your red and teary eyed orbs sulking at him. Hands pushed onto his chest trying so desperately to get him off of you. He wouldn’t stop for your tears. If anything he wanted to provoke more out of you. Tearing his shirt off he watched your crying stop briefly. Very briefly to look down his front. He knew that was your favorite part of him. His abdomen in specifics. Your crying resumed when he took off his sweats and boxers as well. Sure, you had thought about this many many times. But you didn’t want it to happen this way! Not when he was with Bianca, and not against your will! Yet the prodding thought in the back of your mind made you think otherwise. Still holding both of your wrist in one hand, he dipped down in between your legs. Screaming ‘No’s’ and ‘Stops’, as he pushed your panties to the side only made him more excited.

He licked his lips, eyeing your glistening pussy. Your own wetness already coating your outside. “You’re already so wet for me, love. Don’t tell me this is…turning you on?” Shaking your head, you tried so hard to protest but the second one of his fingers entered you? It was all over. His long and slender digit curling inside you made you buckle your hips into him, the faintest moan leaving your lips. Xavier of course took notice of this and looked back up at you with a shit eating grin. “You like that?” No response. He did get one when he pulled his finger out only to put a total of 3 in you. A loud moan escaped you, making him chuckle. The way he circled and explored you with only his fingers made you feel crazy. Even crazier when he picked up the pace.. “It’s ok. Make as much noise as you want. I know you’re enjoying it.”

“But w-what about Bianca?” Those 4 words made him stop entirely; Pulling his fingers out of you all together with a wet ‘Pop’. Your panties were taken off you all together as you watched him move up you again. His nose scrunched as he aligned himself with your entrance. You really shouldn’t have looked down. A gasp left you as you eyed his cock. It was a good 8 inches, maybe more. Decent in girth but extremely long. There was no warning, no words, nothing, before Xavier shoved himself into you fully. A cry of bloody murder left you as he did. He decided to shut you up with another kiss. This time it was less forceful and even passionate? There was no time for you to adjust before he bottomed out inside. Hands clawing at his chest he did nothing. Right as he began to thrust into you, you made another mistake of looking down.

You could see the outline of him inside you, his top prodding below your belly button. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on. Feeling you tighten around him, he looked down to meet your gaze. Eyes widening as well, he moved a hand down to your stomach and pressed on you. The moan you let out was by far his new favorite sound. That was all the confirmation he needed to continue. Head dipping into your neck, he pulled out fully only to shove himself back in.

★・・・・・・★

The chorus of both your moans and skin slapping echoed throughout his dorm room, maybe even the halls. By now you’d cried more tears than you could count but that didn’t stop Xavier from licking them right off your face. The coil in your stomach was bound to snap for the 3rd time soon. It was a bit baffling that Xavier still hadn’t finished. No doubt he was close. Your neck and collarbone were now covered in purple and blue. There was barley enough energy left in you to speak. Again, only whimpers and the occasional moan of his name left you. On the verge of passing out, all your senses came back when there was a knock at the door. Xavier stopped for a brief moment, still inside you. Silence. Then the door handle jiggled.

“Xavi? Why’s your door locked?” A gasp left you at the sound of Bianca’s voice. Hands pushing at his chest again, he grabbed them and pinned both above your head. “No reason! Just b-busy right now.” He replied. You knew it was wrong. Of course it was. But the slightest part of you wanted the door to unlock and her to come in and see. Having no idea what overcame you, your hips pushed down against him in a way to ask for him to keep going. It caught him off guard, making a groan slip out. “Xavier?” Her voice rang out again. He turned back with a smirk before pounding into you again. This time hard enough to make the bed hit the wall. “Have you seen (Y/n)? She isn’t answering her phone.” Moaning as he bit your shoulder again he replied. “No, I haven’t. Maybe check her dorm?” “Are you ok? You sound tired. And what’s that noise?”

“Nothing! Just go! I’m really busy right now.” He snapped. The second he did her footsteps echoed through the hall. Turning back to him, his grip on your hands tightened. “We should s-stop now.” Xavier laughed at your statement. “Now you say that? Not at the beginning?” A halfway deadpan was on your face. Did he not remember you begging for him to stop? (Not like he would’ve anyways). His thrusts became harsher and more erratic. “You’re gripping me so tightly-Even if I wanted to pull out, I couldn’t. But I don’t think you want me to.”

He was right. You didn’t want him to. If he could stay in your like this for forever? You’d let him. But you’d never admit that. “Y’know, every time I fucked Bianca, I imagined you.” He smiled and kissed you again. “I thought about you crying and moaning my name. I thought about you begging for more and cumming around my cock. I wanted it to be you that I came inside.” You felt him twitch inside, your vision beginning to blur. “You like the sound of that?” No thought went through your mind as your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him in closer. Chuckling he moved your hair out of your face. “I think you do. I bet you’d like it if I came inside, filled you up.” More babbling of his name left you. All it took was a meek ‘Please’ from you for him to finish.

He pushed inside you as far as he could, hot cum spurting deep into you. A large groan of your name left his lips, his face full of pleasure. The last thing you saw before everything went black was Xavier fingering his cum back into your weak body.

[h0rnyauth0r]

i can hardly stop thinking about the thought of riding ghost in a car in the middle of the night :) just the sound of his heavy breaths as he struggles to not take control and fuck the hell out of you

pls dni if not 16+, thank you!

tws: unprotected sex, semi-public sex, car sex, brief choking (i have a choking kink, this will be common <3), cumming inside, overstimulation, reader has vagina and is called a girl (i also have a praise kink lolz)

you’re both really tired, having done a lot of running to get training done before heading off to a mission. even so, you took one good look at each other and couldn’t hold back anymore.

he always stays fully clothed, but your pants are off and panties are hanging around your right ankle as you basically stuff his cock into you in hunger. his mask stays on but you still kiss and pull at the skin on his neck as you start rocking your hips.

you’re not even sure when his gloves were taken off as his fingernails dig into your skin, leaving little crescents that’ll remind you of this in the morning.

you’re staring into each others eyes as you allow your hips to pick up, feeling his dick hit just the right spot to make you squeak and moan the slightest bit.

you know you have to be careful with your movements to not make anyone question why the car is rocking, but you lose control a little and rock harder against him.

your knees are sore from the position your in, forcing your body up and down in the tiny seats to hopefully make both of you cum. you almost want to give up, but he makes it easier on you by thrusting up into you and moving your hips for you now and then.

“just like that…” he says quietly, eyes shutting tightly when you start moving harder against him, pussy clenching around him in arousal.

his breaths pick up, loud and small sounds pass his lips that you can tell he’s trying to control. his eyebrows are furrowed tightly, his pretty eyes hidden away in pleasure.

the sight is so fucking hot to you, you want to melt into a puddle seeing him fucked out like this. your hips start moving more, trying so hard to milk his cock into you.

it’s just not enough for either of you, though, and eventually he makes it known. he lifts your body just the slightest, smashing his hips into yours so roughly that your mouth falls open but no sound is able to come out.

when he’s rough like this, you know it’s going to leave you limping tomorrow. he’s such a big man compared to you, his cock always feels like it’s ripping you open.

as his hips thrust up faster, you cry out and throw your head back. two of your fingers move down to your clit and you find yourself making quick movements to try to cum soon.

even with his current movements, you want more. “faster, please.” you moan out, one of his hands leaving your hips and wrapping around your throat tightly.

the feeling of his fingers squeezing against you and his hips moving more quickly makes you cum hard, nails of your free hand digging into his thigh as you shake.

“mmm, good girl.” he says in your ear, his movements becoming more erratic and the car making actual noise now. a slight creaking from the force of his movements, just more proof of how good he is.

your eyes shut tightly as he continues squeezing your throat, and you eventually feel his cum fill you up as his hips stutter in their movement.

he keeps thrusting afterwards, overstimulating you both but it feels so good that you really don’t want to stop, ever. you’re biting on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, making his eyes darken.

you can feel another orgasm building up and your legs have his cum running down them, making loud noises in your ears. “more.” you whimper out.

he looks at you, down at your lips, and finally decides to do it. he moves his mask up to reveal his lips and kisses you for the first time. it takes everything in your being to not cum then and there, feeling his hips somehow move more roughly now that you’re kissing.

his breathing is loud as you move your lips against one another, your mouth opening and his tongue sliding in as the force of his thrusts makes the kiss sloppier.

the feeling of his tongue brushing against your own makes you moan against his mouth, desperately grinding into his cock to try to find release. it finally crashes down a few moments later, as his teeth bite down onto your bottom lip.

you gasp against his mouth, jaw clenching as your pussy trembles against him. you’re absolutely throbbing now, pushing your body down and into his thrusts as hard as possible.

as you continue kissing, he eventually groans out softly and you feel his cum fill you up even more and his hands dig into your skin harder.

he stops moving as you grind against him to ride out your second highs of the night, almost hyperventilating against his lips but too fucked out to pull away.

when you finally do, he looks down at you with his mouth covered in your saliva. it’s so fucking hot to you, fingers reaching out and touching his soft lips.

he kisses your fingers, and you move them as he pulls his mask back down. his eyes stare into yours as you lift your hips up, his cock sliding out of you as you struggle to catch your breath.

you decide to wrap your arms around his torso as you catch your breath, his arms slinking around you and softly squeezing you. you want so badly to tell him you love him, but you choose not to.

but what you don’t know is that he wants to say the same thing to you too.

[obae-me]

hii, i hope you're having a good day. I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do the "bros being protective" with diavolo, barbatos, simeon and solomon.

The people have spoken! And I shall answer! Please accept this as a late holiday gift! We shall have more protective headcanons! I hope hope hope I did the datables justice!  

They’ll Always Protect You Too

TW: Mild Violence. More violence is implied. Threats. As Always, Read Safely!

_____________________________________________

Diavolo

It was a miracle. Somehow, you and Diavolo managed to find a time where you could spend the day together. And by miracle, that means you assisted the prince into sneaking out of his own castle. Otherwise, you'd both never get to be out on your own. Sure, the ruler of the devildom could by all means order everyone to leave him alone, but the both of you knew that either Barbatos or Lucifer would find some way to keep an eye on him.

So, feeling like a rebellious teen in a cliché Coming-of-Age movie, Diavolo snuck out while Barbatos was distracted. He tried to disguise himself by wearing casual clothes, wearing a jacket with a hood over his head. Of course...it didn’t hide him all too well. There’s not many in the Devildom with his grand stature and booming voice. But one could hope...and pretend. 

He wanted this to be a normal day with no royally annoying responsibilities.

Of course, he hadn't really done anything like this before, so he didn't know quite what to do, so you suggested walking around. You could get something to eat, window shop, whatever you both wanted.

For a time, everything went swell. You both had a bite to eat, making sure no pickles were involved. You looked around shops, and while people were absolutely turning their head to make sure that they really did see the prince of their realm strolling down the street, no one said anything or bothered you two. 

That was till Diavolo got a call. He’d been found out, and from the sounds of it, a fretting Barbatos was on the other line. It’s odd to hear the butler worry so much, so with an apologetic grin, Diavolo stepped away from you for a moment to assure Barbatos that all was well. 

You turned, going to pace just a few steps down the street before a demon bumped into you, staggering you backwards. Their D.D.D. fell out of their hands and onto the floor. “Whoa! Sorry there,” they actually apologized. 

“Oh...uh...no worries.” Still a little stunned from the abrupt encounter, you bent down to pick up their device for them.

The demon snatched it from the ground before you could even touch it. “Say, weren’t you just at Café Lament earlier?” Finding it a weird question, you struggled to respond. This, they took as a confirmation. “I knew it! You looked familiar! The human for the exchange program, yeah?” Again, they didn’t give you much time to answer. “Aren’t you staying at the House of Lamentation?” Why did they want to know so much about you? And why were they not letting you speak? “Who was that demon with you then? Didn’t look like any of the Seven Sins.” This was beginning to lead down a road that made your stomach churn. “Are you out here alone?”

"They are not." It was a simple declaration, but a strong one, a wave of power washing over you both, raw magic filling the air, flooding your lungs as if you had just inhaled a cloud of smoke. The other demon felt it too, freezing in place, suddenly aware that they were messing with the wrong person. You were gently pulled, being suddenly moved behind Diavolo's back. His first instinct was to put himself between the two of you. He did not shout, he did not fight, he simply stood there, slowly lowering his hood to reveal his face. "If there is something you need from them, you can ask me."

The demon's eyes grew wide from sheer panic. If there's one rule down here demons do follow, it's to not tick off the prince. They stuttered, immediately falling into this act of false respect, bowing their head towards their ruler. "I-I was simply curious about the program, your majesty. Of course, I only wanted to learn about your wisdom first-hand and I-"

"Enough," Diavolo simply raised his hand, the demon silencing immediately. If he did so with a spell or simply sheer intimidation you did not know. "You are dismissed." Those words were laced with magic so powerful, you almost turned and left yourself, but Diavolo kept his arm near you...kept you close.

For the other demon, however, they began to walk backward, their body betraying them as the order from the prince flooded their bones. They kept moving with their head bowed till they were several feet away from you. Only then did they snap out of it, looking around them in a fearful daze before they ran off.

Diavolo remained in place, shoulders squared, suddenly aware of the whispers of others, the public looking on. He whispered to you, guiding you away from everyone else, using his body to keep you out of sight. “Let us...return to the castle.” He said nothing till you both were on castle grounds, the gate shutting behind you. Then he turned, his posture sagging slightly as he no longer felt the need to be so regal. His words were assertive but not aggressive. “Are you alright?” 

How could you be truthful when someone like Diavolo was right in front of you? You knew he was a prince, but sometimes you forgot...how real that royal status was. “I’m...I...I’m okay.” 

His lips parted as his jaw dropped ever so slightly. His eyes narrowed in a bit of pain. “You don’t need to act around me. My title is simply that, just a title. Sure, I may be a prince, but don’t you see more to me than that?” 

You looked away from him for a moment, but then nodded. He was more to you than just a prince. “I’m a little frazzled, but they didn’t do anything to me. You came just in time.” 

He managed a smile, sighing in relief. “I’m glad for that at least.” He gestured towards the castle, the two of you walking. He fell back just enough to stand with you shoulder to shoulder. “I’m sorry today didn’t go quite as planned. Shall we spend the rest of the day here with just us? No one will bother you. You and I are free to be just who we are without having to fear the consequences.” 

Barbatos

For the love of Diavolo, give this man more of a break. 

Even on his day off--his royally ordered day off--he still was thinking about grabbing groceries and other various items for the castle or for Diavolo. “The dining hall could use new drapes,” he had said. “I am running rather low on tea, what if a guest arrives?” He had fretted. “As it happens, I am currently on the hunt for a particular set of antique measuring cups,” he informed you. Perhaps work never really ends as a demonic butler. Although that last bit of information did seem more personal than the others...

So, the heavy duty of convincing the butler to do something for himself for a change now rested on your shoulders. At the rather desperate request of the prince, you might add. Of course, at your simple suggestion of heading out, he expressed how happy he was to do something with you. 

Sometimes two and two really does just equal four. 

So you both took the time to go on a lovely stroll. To avoid getting him to think about work, you brought up the idea to find a more scenic route of the town, leading him away from shops and places where he could start checking off his errand list. 

He agreed, leading you through a lovely public garden and up to an overlook, the two of you peering down at the busy buzzing demons that scurried around the Devildom. 

Then your peaceful moment was interrupted by a ringtone. With a polite ‘pardon me for a moment’, Barbatos took the call. Guess someone finally contacted him with an offer for the aforementioned antique measuring cups. Good for him, he deserved something nice like that. 

You allowed him his privacy, wandering a little ways away to look at a lovely flowerbed with several glowing flowers. Only, as you crouched down to observe the petals, some stranger did the same thing right next to you. “Aren’t these gorgeous?” The demon asked, acting unfazed as you flinched, startled at the sudden appearance. 

You stood, moving around to the other side of the public flowerbed to give yourself some personal space. “Y-yeah, they’re...nice.” 

…The demon mimicked your movements, coming around so they were shoulder to shoulder with you. You felt like you could hardly breathe with them being so close...

Now was the time to leave, you figured, before the situation escalated. So you took a step forward...only to find the demon was now blocking your path, standing directly in front of you, hands in their pockets, keeping you from moving on. “Why the rush? We were having a good talk, weren’t we?” What talk? The single mention of the flowers? “Stay with me a while...We have a lot we can talk about.” Their hand outstretched to grab you. 

All the sudden, a swirling portal crackled into existence behind the demon. Neither of you had time to fully comprehend what was happening before rattling chains shot forth from the other side, wrapping around their limbs, entangling the demon in their grasp. “Wh-what is this?” The demon shrieked, struggling. They had no time to ask any questions. With a brisk tug, the demon was pulled into the magical void. 

When the portal closed, Barbatos was behind it, tucking his D.D.D. back into his pocket. For a moment, you could’ve sworn the relatively calm and neutral expression had vanished, a frown and furrowed brows framing angry glowing eyes. But you blinked and that image was gone, replaced by his typical pristine smile. 

“I...what was that?” You asked, head still spinning at the whole situation. 

He took a few steps closer to you, making sure that you were unharmed by checking you over. “That was me simply doing my upmost to keep the city streets free of...” He had to actually pause to think of the proper word. “Needless commotion.” 

“Where...where did they go?” You couldn’t help but ask. 

“If you really must know, just to one of the castle’s holding cells. There they can mull over their mistakes and relearn some common manners.” You stared at him, wondering what to properly say in a situation like this. Something seemed to chip away at him the longer you looked at him. “Trust me,” he ended up saying. “I had seen enough to know where it was going. I won’t waste time when it comes to you and your safety.” Once more, a flicker of honest emotion brushed over him. Just for a second. A look of worry, of pain. “Not again.” Then it was gone, and he simply smiled once more as he brushed away a winkle in your clothing. “Shall we head back to the castle?” 

“What about those cups you wanted to get?” 

He put a gentle gloved hand on the back of your shoulder as he turned you towards the direction the castle was in. “I can always retrieve those later. There are more important things to attend to right now. Tell me, what kind of treats would you like me to make for you today?” 

Solomon

He...he asked you to come because of some emergency...The voicemail had been brief and cryptic. Something about ‘the end of times’ and ‘terrible mistakes’--it was hard to make out the message when a sound like roaring wind kept washing out his voice. So of course, you ran over to Purgatory Hall as fast as you could, breathless, prepared for an apocalypse, only to find him standing outside waiting with a smile. Cheeky wizard. Had he really done all that just to get you to come spend time with him? Not that you necessarily felt like complaining. Living in different dorms meant that you didn’t see each other as often as some of the others. 

Besides, it always felt like he was busy doing something. Not that he would ever tell anyone what it was he was working on, some spell or plot of some kind. Something that he always taunted was just out of your magical league, or something that your mortal mind would struggle to comprehend. Possibly just all a scheme to get you to study harder…and possibly one that was working. 

Anyways, that was no longer the point. The focus now was on what you would be doing for the remainder of the day. He had a list of all the Devildom’s most fascinating shops, ones that contained relics and essentially fancy highly-sought-after dust-covered objects. You agreed to go along with him on the exception that you both would go out and get something nice to drink. After making a mad dash all the way over here, you were now quite parched. Any longer, and you would yourself be a relic. 

He laughed at your joke and that was that, going so far as to buy you a drink from one of the local cafes. Now you were both ‘even’, as far as he was concerned, perhaps making up for his little crank-call earlier. 

Speaking of a call...

You recognized the sound of some of the brother’s voices on the other end of Solomon’s phone, all shouting through the speakers. Apparently some sort of cursed spell went haywire and was causing havoc through the House. When there’s something weird, and it don’t look good, who you gonna call? King Solom--Nah, doesn’t have the same ring to it. Although, Solomon really should think of charging some kind of fee for fixing so many magical mishaps. 

That train of thought aside, Solomon gave you a slight humorous roll of the eyes, walking away from you as he tried to solve the problem over the phone. 

You figured you’d check your D.D.D. Maybe the group chat had some fun messages in it. You’d hardly even unlocked your device when a demon approached you out of nowhere, backing you up against a wall. They were uncomfortably close. 

“Excuse me,” you scoffed, going to move out of the way, but the demon slammed their hand against the wall, keeping you from moving. But that wasn’t going to stop you. You ducked under their arm and backed up. 

They glared, still silent, still not sharing their intentions. They started to approach you again. 

Time to go. 

You dashed into an alleyway, rushing through till you were on the other side, trying to blend into the crowd. You didn’t dare look behind you yet, simply swerving around people and weaving yourself through a maze of pathways, trying to ensure you’d lost the demon. 

The moment you finally decided you’d turn around, someone grabbed your arm. 

Before you could even think it through, your mouth was already speaking a spell. “Spirit of wind, protect me!” You quickly turned, palm facing your attacker. 

A burst of wind rushed from your body. The impact was so forceful, it pushed you back, falling to the ground while the person who had grabbed you was a few feet away from you. They groaned a bit under a mess of now wind-swept white hair. 

It was not the demon. It was Solomon. 

You quickly got back up on your feet and to his side, pulling him by the arm to help him stand. “I’m so sorry!” As you were helping him, you noticed some bruising on one of his hands, all focused around the knuckles. “I thought...there was a demon and they...” 

Before he spoke, Solomon simply chuckled, straightening once he was properly upright. “I was worried about you for a moment, but it seems maybe I shouldn’t have been.” After he dusted himself off, he scanned you over for injuries. “Are you okay?” 

Still trying to catch your breath, you looked around, trying to spot the demon that was chasing you. “I...think so, I don’t see them around.” 

Something flashed behind his eyes as he smiled. “You must’ve shaken them off. Good job. And that spell you casted? It was nearly perfect.” 

Once the facts were starting to settle in, you realized where you were...how far you had managed to make it before Solomon caught up with you. You were nearly on the street you normally took to make it back to Purgatory Hall. Had you run this way subconsciously or...was there more to it than that? You raised an eyebrow at the other human. “How...How did you find me?”

He hummed a bit, amused, putting a finger to his lips. “A sorcerer never reveals his secrets.” He then used that finger to point down the street. “We’re nearly home anyway, so why don’t we head back?” 

Before you moved, you wanted confirmation for your suspicions. “Did I hurt you?” You gestured towards his hand, and for a second, you watched his all-clever expression fall into an exhausted one. 

“You did not, no. Don’t worry about me.” He looked at his knuckles and let out a single breathy laugh. “Didn’t even feel it. Guess I’m getting older, huh?” 

You shook your head at him, a bit in disbelief both at the joke and at the thought of the ‘wise wizard Solomon’ throwing back-alley punches. “Guess I owe you one, don’t I? Thank you for saving me.” 

The joking halted, Solomon waving you over so you could walk side by side as you headed back to the Hall. “No need to thank me for this one. I’m just glad to see you safe...even if you did hit me with a spell.” Okay, so there was still a little joking. “But if you still feel like you owe me, how about...staying with me for the rest of the day?” 

  Simeon

The angel had been working much too hard as of late. Not only does he have to watch over the Devildom’s smallest guardian angel, Luke, but he does have to essentially manage the Devildom’s oldest human, Solomon. On top of those two, he was working on a new writing project. Night after night he would work on this manuscript, writing himself right into a horrid bout of writer’s block. A travesty in two parts. 

It had been decided. Simeon needed some fresh air. 

Spending some time outside away from the responsibilities of Purgatory Hall would do him some good both physically and creatively. Maybe being around you for the better part of the day would bring down some divinely timed inspiration. 

Regardless of the outcome, Simeon simply beamed when you came all the way over to the Hall to ask him to come with you to the heart of town. He was quite literally glowing, a faint light shimmering behind the silhouette of his body. Of course, he did feel a bit guilty leaving Luke and Solomon home alone together, but he promised to bring them both home a little gift. He was always sweet like that.

You let him tell you what he was working on while you both walked, glad to hear him talk so passionately about something of his. He shared with you his outline, his plot, his main character...and you couldn't help but notice some...similarities between your story and this protagonist of his. But you couldn't be fully sure if that was his intention, after all, creators take bits and pieces of the world around them to make their art. But...knowing him...and his stories...it was absolutely based off of you.

However, before you were able to question him on his choice of character creation, he got a phone call. Without thinking, he answered it, not even checking to see who was calling. Luckily, it was only Luke. Unluckily, the angel was very upset, apparently near tears at some scary movie Solomon had shown him.

With an empathetic 'oh dear', Simeon stepped aside to do his best to console the little angel.

You watched him move away from you with a little smile, shaking your head a little as you wished Simeon the best of luck in your mind.

“Excuse me,” a sudden voice called out from behind you. You turned to face a demon, one you had never met before. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.” 

Immediately, a little feeling settled into your gut. One might call it paranoia, the other would call it intuition. You didn’t trust this demon one bit. “I...uh, am not sure I’d be of much help. Perhaps if you asked someone else you-” 

“I didn’t want to ask someone else, I wanted to ask you.” …Man did you hate it when your gut was right. The demon stepped closer, the look across their face a bit more sinister than before. “Are you saying you don’t want to help me? That’s rather rude.” 

You took a step back, and then the demon grabbed your wrist. 

All the sudden, a bright light flashed behind you. The demon quickly let go of you, shielding their eyes as they were suddenly blinded. What was it? An explosion? A flashbang? Then the light faded, the sound of footsteps coming up behind you. 

The first thing Simeon did was gently lift your wrist, making sure you were unharmed. It was a bit sore, sure, but nothing terrible. He ran his fingers over it before letting your hand fall back to your side. With a slow turn, he looked at the demon and smiled. 

He said nothing. Not a thing. Just stared, an unwavering ring of light around his irises. 

The demon didn’t like that. Blinking spots out of their vision, they growled.  “Damn angel.” 

“Do you wish to atone?” Simeon finally asked, his usual friendly tone now a serious one as cold as Lucifer’s. The demon didn’t reply, considering their options, wondering if they would rather fight or flee. A spotlight then seemed to shine over the demon, every part of them uncovered under this warm glow. The warmth then seemed to grow hotter, the air humming with magic. “Or would you rather experience Celestial Retribution?” 

You struggled to see with all the light, trying to shade your view with a hand in front of your face. But you heard the demon run more than you saw it, listening to them curse obscenities before scrambling away. The light only faded after the demon was long gone. 

When you were able to see the angel again, his face was covered in shadow, his head tilted downwards. “Simeon...” 

In a few quick steps, he suddenly had you in a hug, releasing his nerves and his anger in a long sigh. “Thank heavens you are alright. I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you.” He pulled himself back and rested both hands on your shoulders. “You’re not hurt right?” 

“Yeah, I’m-” You were going to say ‘yeah, I’m not’ but were cut off by the angel before you could finish. 

“You are?!” He actually raised his voice a little, emotions running high through him. 

“I meant no! I’m not!” 

He dropped his hands and took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Forgive me.” He put his hand over his chest and closed his eyes, waiting until he was properly composed before reaching that same hand over to you should you want to take it. “Shall we both head back to the Hall? I think we both would feel better away from the crowds. Plus, I think Luke would feel much better after seeing you again.” He still looked at you with worried eyes. “Don’t stray too far from me. I don’t think my heart could take another scare.” 

[6lostgirl6]

Yandere Alphabet - Stu Macher

TW: Toxic relationship, stalking, mentions of suicide (not detailed), mentions of murder, kidnapping, obsessive behavior, controlling behavior

A/N: Please inform me if I did not tag something correctly. Please know the difference between fictional and reality. While fictional, these types of relationships are extremely toxic, especially in real-life. If your relationship is showcasing these toxic behaviors, please seek help from someone to get out safely. Reblogs are heavily appreciated!!

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Stu is very affectionate towards his darling and is not afraid to show it. It can be pretty intense, but it's only because he can't contain it all inside or he will explode.

Have you seen how he was with Tatum in the movie? It would be exactly that and more.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Stu is not afraid to get messy for his darling. Does that mean he needs to kill a few people? That doesn't matter to him, he's only showing that he can protect you and it's simply an act of love from him!

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Between Billy and Stu, Stu would treat you the same as he would before kidnapping you as his goofy self. He would still make jokes and silly actions if it means getting you to smile. If he mocks you, it's only because he's being playful. If you were genuinely upset and crying for him to let you go, he would try to comfort you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Besides you simply spending time with him? No, Stu wouldn't really make you do anything you didn't want to do. He might be a little pushy, but he would eventually back off if it starts bothering you.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

In comparison to Billy, he is very open about himself and his feelings for you. Sure, before he abducted you, he had to hide his yandere tendencies. However, now that you were finally home with him, he wouldnt hold back anything from you. He can be very vulnerable, if something is bothering you, he would tell you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would honestly feel very hurt if you tried fighting back. I believe that Stu would be a little bit of a delusional yandere. Of course you wanted him to take you away and keep you to himself? You just didn't know it yet.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He finds it very entertaining to watch you try to escape him, especially when he first kidnapped you. Seeing you run and cry out in fear, fight back when he finally pinned you down and your failed attempts at escaping your new home. After you've settled in though, he would expect you to simply follow rules and obey him.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Again, it was your kidnapping. Seeing your friend's lifeless eyes staring into your own and your boyfriend standing over them. Blood staining his clothes, you could see the smile slip and quickly chase after you. After the reveal that he was the one that killed off your friends was shocking and you cried from being foolish enough to trust him. He might even have Billy help him with kidnapping you as well and Billy would not be gentle.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He wants to grow old with you! He genuinely believes that you are his soulmate! Marriage, maybe a few children, he wants that with you. He wouldn't have it any other way, as long as you comply.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Stu can become very jealous. However, he doesn't lash out, he would probably sulk about it for a while. As ghostface, simply killing his rivals is his new coping mechanism.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He's very playful with his darling, constant jokes and harmless teasing. He's not afraid to show his affection in public and doing random displays of affection like randomly dipping you or twirling you. He'll randomly pull you in kisses that leave you completely flushed.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Stu would stalk you, but he makes it pretty obvious. However, you might see it as something innocent like a boy having a crush and he simply doesn't know how to act. Yet, you don't realize that he's been stalking you as you walk home and putting anonymous love letters in your locker. That's when he lets some of his deeper desires come forth.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not at all. You wouldn't even know there was something different about him. However, his mask will slip a little, eyes holding something a little more sinister. We've seen how in the movies he can go from laughing and smiling to become the complete opposite.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He doesn't give out severe punishments. It honestly depends on what you do. However, he'll take away rights when you break his rules. You managed to get outside without him, your banned from your daily walks with him. You tried contacting someone online, you're not allowed on the computer, etc.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Stu would take some rights. For example, you weren't allowed to be around sharp objects, so you wouldn't harm yourself! You would never intentionally harm him! He wouldn't allow you to walk outside without him and limited access on the internet. And phones are off-limits. He's very watchful.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

For you, Stu is very patient. When you were first brought home, he gave you space while you adjusted to your new living situation and gave you a few rules that wouldn't overwhelm you. After a week, his patience will slip a little but always remind himself that you simply need time.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Stu would try his absolute hardest to find you and bring you home if you managed to escape. However, if he was unable to find you or God forbid you died, he would not be able to move on. He wouldn't even be able to continue existing. He can't live in a world where he doesn't have you. He would kill himself.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

At times, he has moments where he starts to think that maybe you were right. He doesn't regret killing your friends, in fact it thrilled him, yet he will start to think maybe he shouldn't have kidnapped you. However, those thoughts are quick to leave him. Stu is very trusting, if you simply follow his rules and obey him, he wouldnt mind taking you out for a walk. His property is very spacious, so he would allow you to go outside with him. No, he wouldn't let you go though.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

I headcanon that Stu is a bit of a delusional yandere. Therefore, he doesn't see things as they naturally are and his obsession thay overcomes him when meeting you just ignites something in him that was dormant.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He would feel heartbroken and even a little guilty. He brought you home because he wanted to love, protect, and make you happy with him. Yet, it seems to only cause you pain. He'll talk to you about it, let you express your feelings through sobs. He would listen, but he wouldn't understand. He'll try his best to comfort you though.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Stu doesn't give out severe punishments like most yanderes. He would never starve you or deny you basic needs, he cares about you too much. You're his obsession.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Stu is actually pretty sensitive. Simply saying things about how you hate him and don't want to be around him would make him distance himself from you and sulk. He doesn't like people seeing how emotional he actually is and that would allow you some time to think of an escape plan but he knows. He always knows.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Oh, never! Stu values your safety and happiness, he couldn't handle it if he accidentally hurt you. The worst he's done was get you a little bruised when he pinned you down when you were first kidnapped.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Oh he is very expressive in his worshiping for you, he's equivalent to a lost puppy. He loves following you around and talking to you, you always make his day. He would literally kill for you if it meant winning you over. He would try anything.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Stu would pine after you just as long as Billy, perhaps even shorter. If you're not dating him by the six month mark, he's going to kidnap you. He's simply speeding up the process.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes, he would. Not through threats and violent outbursts, but through his personality. You'll eventually start to believe that what he did was normal because he's just a lovable person.

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @ghoulgeousimmaculate @rottent33th @slaasherslut @strrvnge

[hischierswhore]

hostile pt 2

pairing: Mason Mount x Reader

TW: cursing

A/N: here's the highly requested part two to "hostile" !!! it’s rather long , so i hope you all enjoy <3

4 days had passed since your argument with Mason. He’d spam called your phone at least 12 times a day since that night, plus the near 100 text messages he sent you throughout your time away asking if you were okay. But you didn’t respond.

You watched as every single notification appeared on your screen, reading each one through the notification center, choosing to not tap on them so he wouldn’t be notified that you had seen his messages.

Mason was beginning to get worried now. You’d argued before, but you guys always came back together. You’d never ignored him for this long, and he didn’t know what was going on. That night when he left, he knew he had fucked up. He knew he shouldn’t have left after what he said to you, but he needed to clear his mind before he could say anything else he would regret.

When he got back home, you were gone. Your car was gone from the driveway, and all of the lights were off. Mason ran into the house, hoping you would still be there, but it was no use. He ran all across the house in hopes of finding some sign of life, but the place you both called home was empty.

Your suitcase was gone, along with a few of your clothes & belongings. Mason threw himself on the bed and groaned into a pillow before reaching for his phone and calling you. It went to voicemail after a few rings, and then he texted you, repeatedly asking if you were okay.

Mason found himself crying his way into a deep sleep, tears staining the pillow as he mourned the empty space next to him. This pattern repeated itself for an additional 3 nights, and Mason was beginning to lose it. He had no idea where you were, or if you were even okay for that matter. He reached out to the one person he knew would likely have an idea where you were since you were both close.

“Hello?” The voice spoke through the phone.

“Hi, Mrs Y/L/N. It’s Mason”

“Ah yes, how are you?” Your mother spoke gently through the phone.

“I’ve definitely been better. I wanted to ask because I know you & Y/n are really close, but have you spoken to her lately?” He heard some movement on the other end of the line, though he couldn’t figure out what was going on.

“She’s actually been staying with us for the past few days. She’s really hurt by what you said, Mason” She sighed heavily.

“Thank goodness she’s with you guys. She hasn’t responded to any of my texts or answered any of my calls and I was just worried something had happened to her. Would it be possible for me to come see her?”

“You can try, but I can’t guarantee that she wants to speak to you quite yet. And I also can’t guarantee that Y/D/N won’t have a few choice words for you if you show up here”

“I can handle Y/D/N, but I can’t handle not speaking to Y/n any longer. I’ll be there within the hour” And with that, Mason hung up and jumped off the couch, immediately running to grab his shoes before hopping in his car and beginning the drive to your parent’s house.

— time skip —

Around an hour later, Mason had successfully made it to your parents house. He put his car in ‘park’ before shutting it off and exiting the vehicle. As he made his way up the steps and to the front door, he felt nervous. He hesitated before knocking on the door. The door opened moments later to reveal your mother.

“You’re lucky Y/D/N isn’t here, or else he would have ripped you a new one before he even thought of letting you see Y/n again” She joked.

“She’s in the spare bedroom. Be careful, Mason. She’s extremely fragile & sensitive right now” Mason nodded before making his way up the stairs and standing infront of the door to the spare bedroom. He took a deep breath as he knocked on the door.

Movement could be heard on the other side of the door, a clue to him that you were indeed in the room. The door opened suddenly, his eyes meeting yours for a quick second before you tried shutting it in his face, but Mason was too quick, sticking his foot out to keep the door from closing.

“Y/n wait-“ He pushed the door open and held it that way so you couldn’t shut him out.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Mason” You mumbled as you looked down at the floor.

“I get that, but please at least let me explain. You deserve an apology” You lifted your head and stared at him for a few seconds before moving to the side, allowing him to step into the room. You shut the door behind him, as you wanted a private conversation.

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched as you sat comfortably on the other side of the bed with a blanket covering your legs.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you. I know you hate when people raise their voices, and I shouldn’t have even thought of doing that. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at and you did nothing wrong. I’m sorry for invalidating you & your financial support for our relationship. I didn’t mean any of it. I know I’ve fucked up, and you probably don’t want to talk to me ever again for what I said, but I do love you, Y/n. And I hope you can forgive me”

His hands slowly reached out to hold yours. He was touch starved after not having been near you in days, but you pulled your hands out of his reach, causing him to frown.

“I don’t hate you, Mase” You sighed as you fiddled with the fabric resting on your legs.

“I know you’re stressed, so I know this will all pass, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Your words really did make me feel like I was worthless in this relationship” The frown remained on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. You're far from worthless. You're the most important person in my life, and I'm sorry for making you feel otherwise” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Quick question: Why did you leave that night?” You looked up to meet his eyes.

“I had to leave before I made the situation any worse than I already had made it. When I came back, you were gone and you wouldn’t answer any of my messages or calls” You nodded at his answer.

“My phone’s been off since that night. I needed a break from everything” Mason nodded understandingly. The room filled with silence for a few minutes, the only sound that could be heard was the air diffuser that sat in the corner of the room.

“I forgive you” Mason snapped out of his daze and looked at you, a smile replacing the frown that lingered on his face.

“But I’m going to need time. Your words really did hurt me, and I think right now we both need some space” Mason clearly his throat as you spoke, trying to find the words to say.

“Yeah… 100%. Just know that I really am sorry, Y/n. I truly do love you, and I’ll do anything to gain back your trust” A fake smile plastered itself on his face as he hoped you wouldn’t see through it.

“I love you too, Mase. I’ll talk to you later” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before walking him to the door. You said your goodbyes and shut the door, leaving him to stand in the hallway alone.

He practically dragged himself down the stairs only to be met with your mother.

“How’d it go, sweetie? Where’s Y/n?” She asked as she set a cup of tea on the table for him, something she always did whenever he visited. He sat down next to her and stirred the liquid in the cup in front of him.

“She uhh- she said she forgives me but she needs space right now” He couldn’t make eye contact with your mother, knowing that the second he looked her in the eyes he would break down.

Since the pair of you started dating, your mother always treated him like he was part of the family, always making him feel welcome and at home. She could always tell what he was thinking or how he was feeling, so he knew that she could see right through him.

“Oh I’m sorry, Mason” She reached her arm out to comfort him.

“I know that wasn’t really what you were expecting when you came here today, but I hope you know that she wanted nothing more than to be in your arms again. Y/D/N told her to not make things easy for you, hence why she attempted to shut the door in your face. She is beyond in love with you, Mason. Everyone can see that, but for right now she needs time to rebuild herself” Mason nodded as she spoke.

“Well, thank you for the tea, Mrs. Y/L/N. It was nice seeing you again” His smile faltered as he exited the house and made his way to his car.

The moment he shut the door he broke down into tears. That has not gone how he had wanted or how he had expected it to at all. He wanted you to come back home, he wanted to hold you in his arms as he repeatedly apologized for his stupidity, but that wasn’t how it was going to be. You wanted space and he had to respect your wishes, despite how much they hurt him.

He knew he’d fucked up. He knew you were the one hurting the most as a result of this, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting too. He missed you deeply. He missed waking up to you clinging to his chest. He missed giving you a goodbye kiss before he left for training. He just missed being in your presence, and after being in it once again, though only for a few minutes, he felt at peace. He felt at home.

— time skip —

Mason woke up the next morning, dragging himself throughout the house to get ready for his afternoon training session. He didn’t really feel like going, especially after yesterday’s events. He felt like a shit boyfriend, like a shit human being, and he wanted nothing more than to stay in bed until he could finally see you again.

You knew Mason was at training, so you didn’t bother to text him. About an hour or so into training, you received a call from Ben.

“What did you do to Mason?” He immediately said before you could even ask for the purpose of his call.

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s not being his usual self. He’s just so out of it and he looks like complete shit today”

“We got into an argument the other night. Things were said, and I left to my mom’s house. I spoke to him yesterday and told him I needed space, and we haven’t spoken since” You explained the situation briefly to Ben, not needing to give him all of the details.

“Well he’s been playing terribly today and he’s argued with Lampard twice already”

“I’ll make my way to Cobham to talk to him” You sighed after you hung up the call. Part of you believed you were ready to see Mason and fully accept his apology, but the other part of you just wanted to be stubborn and distance yourself. You knew you couldn’t hide from him forever, and you missed him deeply, so this would be the perfect opportunity.

After an hour long drive to the Training Facility, you made your way into the building and waited for Ben to come get you. You weren’t allowed access to the training room unless you were escorted by one of the training staff or one of the players, so you just waited patiently for Ben to arrive.

Moments later, he walked in and motioned for you to follow him down the hallway.

“How’s he been?” You asked quietly.

“Lampard sent him to the changing room for a bit. He could tell something was off with Mase this morning and thought that he just needed some space to cool down” Ben was speed walking towards the changing room, leaving you slightly behind as you tried to catch up.

You both stopped outside the door to the changing room. Ben gestured for you to go in, though you hesitated as you weren’t sure if he’d even want to see you after your conversation yesterday.

“If you’re worried that he doesn’t want to see you, trust me, he wants to. Actually, he needs to. He’s a complete wreck without you, Y/n” Ben reassured you and you nodded, bracing yourself to open the door and come face to face with your boyfriend once again. You took a deep breath in before pushing the door open and walking inside.

“Mase?” You called throughout the seemingly empty room before you heard commotion on the other side of the room. When you looked towards the showers, you saw Mason sitting on the floor, knees to his chest & his face stained with tears. You immediately ran over and sat down with him.

“Y/n?” Mason wiped his eyes, hoping you wouldn’t notice how red his eyes has become from the crying he had just done, but it was too late.

“What’s going on, Mase?” You gently placed your hand on his knee in an attempt to comfort him, knowing he loved physical touch.

“What are you doing here?” He didn’t fully process your question and jumped to ask his own.

“Ben called. Said you weren’t being yourself and that you were arguing with Lampard. Now answer my question” You softly rubbed the top of his knee with the pad of your thumb, helping him regulate his erratic breathing.

“I just- I miss you, Y/n. The past 5 days have been absolute hell for me without you. I know you’re the one most hurt because of what I said, which I will forever apologize for because I shouldn’t have said any of it and I didn’t mean it, but I’m also suffering without you. It’s hard to sleep at night without you right next to me. It’s hard to wake up in the morning to an empty bed. It’s hard leaving for training and not having you there to say goodbye and remind you how much I love you. I know you said we need space. Hell, even Lampard sent me here because I “needed space to cool down”, but I don’t know how much longer I can go without you by my side” Tears filled Mason’s eyes once again as he spoke, all of his walls breaking down in front of you as you sat by his side.

It was only now that you realized how this whole ordeal was also affecting Mason. You moved your hand from his knee to his back and pulled him into your arms.

“I’m sorry for pushing you away, Mase. I tried to be strong and make it a bit harder for you to get me back, but you’re my weakness. You coming to my mom’s house yesterday sort of ruined the plan, but I told you we needed space anyways so I could feel like I’d won while in reality, it only made me feel worse. I know I forgive you, Mason; you don’t have to keep apologizing. And I don’t want space, Mason. I want you” You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and he pulled you closer.

“So you’ll come back home?” He pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“Home is anywhere you are, but yes” You smiled before he pulled you in for a sweet yet passionate kiss. When he pulled away, he placed his head into the crook of your neck.

“I thought I’d lost you” He mumbled into your sweater.

“You can’t lose me that easily, Mase”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist

@ithinkimokeei @myheartgoesvroom @mounthings @tall-tanned-tattoo @itsnotgray @alwaysclassyeagle @charlewiss @pianoisland @fallingin20 @chelseagirl98 @lovelynikol16 @username-envy @swimmingismywholelife @pulisicsgirl @notsoattractivearenti @bracedes @paulstan-evans @lunamelona @anotherfan07 @delicateearthquakellama @whrefrmbappe @almondsblog @certifiedl0vergr1l

[jj-5656]

First and Last With; James Potter

A/N: Hello again! I finally finished that wonderful request, so sorry it took forever. Football (NFL playoffs) and school preparations have kept me preoccupied. Winter break is over and I’m absolutely devastated. For anyone in college, I wish you luck for this Spring Semester. But with that being said, school starting back up means I likely won’t upload as much. So I apologize in advance. Regardless, I hope this makes up for the wait on this request. To the lovely anon and all others, enjoy!

Summary: The one where the Marauders vacation to the Potter’s beach house, and a revealing drinking game ensues...

TW: Descriptions of panic attacks, Sirius is an ass as usual, a lot of mutual pining.

   “Marlene, you have packed half of your house and more, it’s just a week’s vacation.”

“Anything could happen, Sirius. Better to be over prepared than under prepared.”

“I’m just happy James is filthy rich.” Dorcas deadpans, straightening when you and Lilly shoot her a disapproving look. “And so, very generous at the same time.”

“I’m not filthy rich.” James laughs, taking your bags from your grasp and loading them into the trunk for you. Amongst all of your friends belongings, piled high enough to reach the top of the van you’ve rented for the adventure. “We’re just...Comfortable.”

“That’s what all rich people say.” You and Remus look to each other, stunned at your simultaneous blunt confessions. 

“Shush, the lot of you.” Lilly chides, never sparing commonalities. 

“Remind me why we couldn’t just use floo powder? I’m already sweating, and my complexion does not do well in heat.” Sirius fans himself dramatically. James allows you to lift yourself over the mountains of bags with his arm for support in order to reply. 

“When have any of you experienced the adventure of a road trip?” You’re beaming at the thought, James takes your distraction as an opportunity to admire your unusually giddy attitude. Though the real reason you’re so eager to be away from home pulls at his mind, his grin faltering. He pokes your side, grabbing your attention. 

“Miss sunshine gets shotgun, I’ve called it.”

“Prongs, I thought you’d have wanted me to be your passenger princess?”

“Absolutely not, though I’ll miss those luscious locks of yours. I’m driving, so I select my navigator.”

“You’ve been there a million times.” You note, crossing your arms incredulously. James smirks, placing his burgundy and gold quidditch cap atop your head. 

“I’d much rather you keep me company.” He says so only you can hear, unknowing of your flushing when he turns back to Sirius. “Pads, Moons is gonna need a pretty view, it’s fortunate he’ll have you in the middle seat.”

“I’m reading! Reading this entire time, very busy.” Remus teases, pleased with the raven-haired boy’s mock offense. 

You round the corner of the van after checking the trunk for the fourth time, positive you haven’t forgotten any supplies for the trip. James is at the passenger side, holding the door open for you. He’s got a pair of prescription sunglasses on, and looks very different. No less handsome, if anything, the shades accentuate the bravado you’ve always envied. His arms are especially toned after another quidditch season, tanned from the summer sun you’ve missed so dearly. You’re staring. 

“Systems ready, co-pilot?” He beams down at you, pulling his cap over your eyes in teasing. You stick a tongue out at him, pulling his arms away so you can  adjust it right again. 

“I feel silly in this.”

“Nonsense, you look adorable. My clothes suit you.” He defends, so casual you don’t let the words resonate until after he’s shut your door and rounded to the drivers side. 

“Enjoy the passenger seat, princess.” Sirius sneers, pouting despite not holding any true ill-will. 

“Gladly.” 

************

“Are we there yet?” 

“No, Dorcas. Just like we weren’t there ten minutes ago.” James glances at the girl through the rearview, slightly amused with her childish complaints. 

“You know, we could just pull over and-”

“No floo powder!” You and Lilly shout to Sirius, hoping not to have awoken a sleeping Marlene and Remus. Sirius covers their ears, both of them having dropped their heads on each one of his shoulders some time throughout their slumber. You finish fiddling with the radio when a good song comes on, taking a moment to look at the lot of your friends all corralled in the van. 

“Where’s the camera, James?” 

“On my side door here, I’ll pull over if you want it.” 

“Oh, so you’ll pull over for her.”

“Shut it, Pads.” 

“No need, I can reach it.” You lean over the seat, careful not to block his view of the road as you quickly grab it. James swallows, clears his throat to act natural whilst all of his insides begin to burn. 

“Hot?” Is all you ask, studying his discomposure.

“What?” He starts, voice shaky and strained. Sirius falls into a fit of muffled laughter from the back, leaving you confused. “J-Just a little warm, yeah.” Potter recovers, now well aware you were inquiring about temperature. You turn up the AC, taking the cover off the lens and pointing the camera toward the back. Sirius smiles wide for the camera, handsome features lighted by the early afternoon sun. Marlene and Remus drool along on his shoulders as Lilly beams brightly from the back. Looking positively radiant, as always. Dorcas smiles, but holds up her favorite finger to the lens. You grin,full of adoration for the entire lot of them as you snap a couple photos, ensuring they’re all in the frame. 

James admires in increments from the rearview, blowing a raspberry to the camera when you point it at him. 

“Eyes on the road, Potter.” He shakes his head, running a hand over the steering wheel in a mindless habit as he hears the camera snap. Looking over quickly to smile at the lens. Effortlessly handsome, as usual. 

“We have to take as many pictures as possible this week.” You demand, getting excited all over again for the much needed vacation, spent with all your best friends, no less. 

You roll down your window even more, sticking your head to enjoy the warm, salty air. It smells of the beach, grass, all things green and beautiful. You’re so happy your head spins, giggling to yourself as you catch Lilly doing the same behind you. Meeting her eyes in the side mirror and scrunching your nose when she blows a kiss, an embellished hand pretending to capture it in the air and holding it to your heart. 

James does a double take from his view of the road and then you. Trying to stay focused and not find any distraction in your adorably delighted mood. His brows furrow when you shuffle forward, aiming to get even more of your body out of window the feel the entirety of what this beautiful view has to offer.

“Absolutely not.” He chastises, a finger hooking onto your belt loop and tightening. His eyes are on the road, one hand on the wheel as he tugs you back inside. 

“Lame!” You whine, hitting his arm in distaste. 

“I prefer my friends with their pretty heads in tact, thank you.” 

You settle in your seat, still full of delight but a little more contemplative as you think about what got you here.

“Summer vacation!” Sirius throws himself between you and Remus during lunch. Gathering an assortment of food on his own plate. You’ve barely eaten, stomach turning at the thought of being home for two months. You’re nudged from under the table, meeting James’ gaze, whose eyes avert to your abandoned plate. A subtle request for you to eat. You offer a weak smile, shrugging before your friends go on. 

“Two whole months without exams.” Marlene adds, absolutely pleased with not having to spend another second with her nose in a book. 

“We’ll be seventh years, I can hardly believe it.” You’ve considered Lilly’s words the entirety of this last month of classes, absolutely dreading going home. Hogwarts is more home than your house would ever be, and your friends are the only real family you have. You lose your breath at this, biting at the nail of your thumb and wincing when it draws blood. 

“I’m gonna head to the library,” You announce, blinking hard to fight the room from blurring. “Forgot to turn in my potions textbook.” It’s believable enough for the group to nod along, chorusing their farewells as you head out of the great hall. Heart racing and hands trembling. James takes only a moment, eyes following you the entire time. It’s not his business, but he knows that demeanor. He’s seen all of this before, in the boy he calls his best friend. Sirius Black, who leans forward and shoots James a look. Instantly, the chaser is on his feet, mumbling a feeble excuse and heading out of the hall in search for you. 

“I think he left the curling iron on.”

James searches the corridor wildly, all of the students being in the Great Hall makes the search easy, he can follow the sound of your fleeting footsteps with ease in this sea of silence. He follows your distant frame up a set of stairs, cursing to himself when they shift before he can follow your path. He’s searching for a new route, not wanting to shout to you and scare you even more.

There’s a lot of running, a couple instances of tripping over his own feet, but eventually Potter catches up to you. 

You’re sat in a windowsill beneath an overhang of a hallway above, curled in on yourself. James approaches carefully, trying to control his panting breaths. 

“Fuck, James!” You startle each other, studying the other instantly.

“You’re” the athlete coughs, winded, “so fast.” You smile, but it does little to calm you down, because as he gets closer, the view around him blurs, and everything sounds cloudy, distant. 

“I’m,” you try to form words, too loud because you can’t hear yourself properly. “F-fine.” You try to move, try escaping to prevent embarrassing yourself further. Clutching your chest and swiping at the flood of tears that can’t be ceased. 

“You’re not. You’re having a panic attack.” 

“Happened b-before,” you wheeze, staring at your hands to make sure they’re real “I’m good.” 

“And I’m a humble introvert that loves Slytherin, sit down.” You begin to wheeze, rubbing your hands over your legs to stop them from sweating, ground yourself maybe. “I’m gonna hug you, tight. Is that alright?” You nod, because you’re not entirely sure what he’s just said and it’s easier to comply. 

He encloses you in an embrace, loosening for only a second when you fight it. He’s squeezing again, but it’s not unpleasant. You’re shaking, and your breaths are still rapid. James swallows, terrified and unsure. Because all of this usually helps Sirius but he’s still kind of freaking the fuck out.

“Let’s talk about something.” He suggests, wincing when you hiccup for air in reply. “I know you’ll love this. What’s something about me that annoys you?” You’re aware he’s trying to distract you, and you feel like you’re dying, so you give it a go in the off chance it’ll help.

“You’re im-immature.”

“Good. But you’ve done better than that, love.” 

“You’re reckless. You play quidditch like,” you lick your lips, trying to control your trembling. “Like you’re indestructible.” 

“Attagirl, something else?”

“You’re picky, and...And you’re too stubborn to try new things.” James hums, recalling a time you’d forced him to drink pumpkin juice an he hurled in the lavatory minutes later. He rests his chin on your head, pleased when the added pressure slows your breathing. 

“You’d do anything for your friends, no matter the personal expense. It’s self destructive, p-probably exhausting.”

“Ouch. You really know how to flatter a man, love.” 

“I don’t want to go home.” You whisper, so quiet he’d miss it had he not been surveying your every move. The confession shocks even you, and James, for likely the first time in his life, is devastated to be right about something. 

“I’m not gonna let you. We’re going to figure this out. I’m gonna figure this out, I promise.” 

“You’re doing that thing again.” You note, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your robe. Further comforted in the feel of his chest vibrating against you from laughing.

“And you’re forming full sentences.” He loosens, giving you space to decide whether or not you want to separate.  You don’t, not right away, not when you can feel the strong, stable beating of his heart. 

“What am I gonna do? I can’t stay here over break. Even if Dumbledore allowed it, my family would-” You falter, unable to finish. James holds tight again, nauseated. 

“I promised. And I intend on keeping it, love.”

**********

“Land! Sweet, sweet land.” Sirius cries, throwing himself onto the freshly cut grass. 

“James, it’s stunning.” Lilly shades her eyes to admire the shore house. Standing taller than the others around it. 

“It’s home. Away from home, that is.” James shrugs, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. There’s a faint, deep-rooted envy for the blessings your friends hold. Sirius rolls onto his back to look at you, the only one noticing your hunched shoulders amongst the rest of the group beginning to unload the van. 

“Shall we go inside, lovely? Get dibs on the best rooms while these common folk collect our luggage. He extends his arm for you to take, adjusting the sunglasses adorning his face and ignoring the displeased looks of your friends. Stealing a kiss to your temple as he leads you inside. 

“Moony, sweetheart, do be careful with my things. I’ll show you what bed to place them on.”

“Fuck off, Pads.”

“That’s Sir Padfoot, to you.” 

You and Sirius falter, shocked to see an older woman placing the finishings of a homemade meal on the large kitchen table. The inside is even more impressive than the out, but you don’t have much time to appreciate the decorum. Considering you’re engulfed in an oddly familiar embrace. 

“Welcome, welcome!” She beams, holding Sirius’ face and kissing his cheeks with small pinches. 

“How’s my Siri?”

“Alright, mum. Thanks. James didn’t mention you’d be here. Though it’s a very happy surprise.” He looks at the wrinkled, stunning woman that smells of lavender and tea like she’s hung every star in the sky. It’s then you make the obvious connection this is Mrs. Potter. 

“Oh, he doesn’t know either. I’m only here to make sure you’re all settled in and then I’ll be on my way. We haven’t visited here in a while, I wanted to be sure it looked alright for you all.”

“Hard to imagine it ever looks less than gorgeous,” you say without thinking, “thank you for having us. This is lovely.” 

“And so are you, dear. Sirius, tell me this beautiful young girl is with you?” She strokes your hair, and it’s the most comforting touch you’ve likely ever felt. 

“Only in my dreams, unfortunately. Unless dear y/n would like to make a wish come true?” You laugh, swatting away his puckered lips. 

“Y/n? Oh, I’ve been waiting to meet you! Sweetheart, Jamie talks about you so much in his letters!”

“Let’s get waste-Mum!” James drops the bag in hand, yours. Pulling the handle of liquor behind his back in pure shock. “What are you doing here?” 

“Thought I’d have a warm meal waiting for you kids. You must be starving after that drive. Though I’m so happy you did as opposed to powdering here. Shows some responsibility. And Jamie gets so sick sometimes with the powder and all-”

“Mum!” The taller boy repeats, setting the array of luggage in hand down and hiding the bottle behind it. 

“I’m doting, aren’t I? Remmy!”  She stops herself, rushing over to envelop the taller boy in her arms. He, just as Sirius, is absolutely pleased to see her. She goes down the line of girls, putting faces to names and genuinely loving every second of it. James sighs, no genuine distaste in his nature as he observes.

Sirius throws an arm over your shoulder, cheeky as ever. “Mum was just telling us about your letters home.” 

“You’re just as pretty as he said you were. All you girls are so beautiful!” She goes on, blissfully unaware of her beet-red son. 

“She exaggerates.” James scratches his neck, skin burning with embarrassment. 

“Does she?” Siris pulls you closer, basking in your shared humiliation. 

“This food looks wonderful Mrs. Potter. Thank you so much for thinking of us.” Lilly clasps her hands together, rolling her eyes fondly at James’ indebted glance. 

“Call me Euphemia, please. And yes, you all must be starving. Come, fill those bellies with something warm.” You’re in a state of shock as you sit, unaccustomed to such hospitality and genuine kindness. It’s evident where James gets his big heart, undying selflessness. 

The food is amazing, you all go for seconds with a chorus of shared appreciation and compliments. Euphemia beams as she collects her things, pleased to meet the lot of friends her son cares for so deeply. 

“All the beds have fresh sheets, and there’s extra throw blankets in the linen closet. Jamie, your father says go easy on the fire whisky. He’d ask for no drinking, but we all know that’s a long shot. Don’t break anything, and Remmy, keep everyone in check.” The taller boy nods swiftly, no doubt having heard the orders before. James gets up from his seat, kissing his mothers cheek and enveloping her in a hug. 

“Thank you mum, seriously.” She fixes his hair, wiping invisible smudges from his face in a fit of doting. 

“No problem, I’m glad you were all able to make it here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. All of you.” Theres a quick moment where she meets both you and Sirius’ eyes, the two of you nodding with feigned smiles. Quickly, she kisses both Moony and Padfoot’s heads, stopping for only a moment to caress your cheek with her thumb, a faint sadness in her gaze. Everyone else is enveloped in conversation, passing servings across the table as they would at the Great Hall. 

“You’ll keep an eye on my Jamie, won’t you?” She whispers, touch soothing you with an unknown ease. 

“Of course, though I’m not sure he needs it.” You hold her wrist, somehow not minding the affection whatsoever. 

“So he likes to think. He does, really, speak so fondly of you in his letters. You’re even more lovely than he described.” You want to cry, so overwhelmed with her generosity and love, a maternal energy so strong it’s wiped your mind of any anxieties. 

“Alright, mum. Let the poor girl eat.” James guides her toward the fireplace, while his mother pats his arm and says something to him you don’t quite catch. James’ ears burn bright red, and he nudges her gently so she’ll stop looking over at you. The rest of the group turns toward the fireplace, echoing their farewells and gratuity as she waves. Floo powder enveloping the space around her and sending her off. 

“Does that turn your stomach just looking at it, Jamie?” Marlene mocks, the rest of your laughing through bites of food as he flips her off. 

“Fuck off, the lot of you.” 

“We should start cleaning up.” You suggest, taking your own plate and bringing it to the sink. “This way we can unpack before the sun sets.” Lilly follows, taking her and Dorcas’ plate to you as you begin washing. Sirius groans, grabbing a dish towel from one of the drawers and drying the dishes you hand him. 

“Can’t we just charm the sponges to clean these?”

“Dad had them countered so they can’t be charmed. Said it was supposed to teach me some ‘household responsibility.’” Sirius howls, thoroughly amused.

“I’m just curious about these detailed letters back home.” Remus mutters as he carries his plate past James, dodging his swings and rushing toward the group at the sink for safety. 

*****************

After everyone’s settled in, and you’ve all recovered from the ‘who called what room first’ arguments, there’s an obligatory round of shots. A bin begins to pile high with cans, and you’re all sat around a bonfire atop the Potter’s outdoor furniture. Even the furniture for the backyard looks expensive, so you clutch your drink in hopes not to make any spills. 

You’re buzzed now, skin tingling with an uncommon ease as you lean against the arm of the couch. Sea breeze easing the warm air as the fire pops in front of you. 

“Alright, none of you are drunk enough.” Sirius chastises, shifting in his seat and tossing Lilly another beer. “Never have I ever,” you all groan in half-assed annoyance as the name of the game sounds, “been snitched on by Peeves.” 

You and the rest of the girls take slow, ashamed, sips. The boys all looking over in amazement. 

“We snuck out one time! All I wanted was a bloody butter beer.” Marlene confesses, flushed. James stretches as he approaches, still sore from driving. He passes you his cup, grinning when you cringe at whatever concoction he’s come up with. You move your legs so he can sit beside you, the rest of the couches having been taken. 

“It was a terrible craving, but nonetheless worth the loss of points for Gryffindor.” 

“Is that why we were tied with Ravenclaw mid semester?” Remus laughs over his cup. 

“We still won the cup!” You and Lilly defend, James taking hold of your legs to place them on top of his. He isn’t even thinking about it, too enthralled with the teasing conversation before him as he slides a hand under the cuff of your jeans. Warm hands calloused from quidditch running over your shin. You’ve always found affection with him comes easier than with others, and the touch comforts you, electricity lingering on your skin. 

“Never have I ever, had my first kiss.” Because Dorcas also aims to have the rest of you drinking more, she says what she thinks is the most common proposition. Your stomach turns, and you debate on taking a sip just because it’ll spare you the embarrassment. You must consider it too long, because Sirius’ brows shoot up in shock. 

“Merlin, how?” Is all Sirius manages, the girls’ jaws dropping because you’ve never told them. 

“I volunteer!” Marlene shoots a hand up while you curl into the cushions, wishing you’d just had the drink. 

“It’s not that there haven’t been opportunities.” You struggle through the explanation, tugging on the sleeves of your shirt to fight the cold. “I just, I guess, want the first one to matter. If it’s been this long I may as well make it special.” They all coo in mocking, laughing when you flip them off. 

“I get it.” James pats your leg, taking generous sips of his own drink. 

“You don’t.” Theres an amusement in your tone, no real meanness to any of it. 

“Well what about that Hufflepuff third semester, he was totally into you.” Dorcas inquires. 

“Are we seriously this interested in my love life, or lack thereof?” You roll your eyes when they all agree, giddy from the topic and the alcohol. “I thought he was into me, but I don’t know. We stopped talking after a while.”

“Wait,” Remus narrows his brows, too contemplative to see James’ signals. “That curly haired guy, beater for Huffle?” You nod, giggling because he’s not usually this slow to understanding, clearly inebriated. 

“Wasn’t that the kid that came up to us at Hogsmeade, Prongs?” Potter vehemently shakes his head, chugging his drink again. 

“Nope, I don’t think so.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure it was. You two didn’t get on that well, I think.” Sirius covers his mouth to muffle his laughing, basking in Moony’s drunken confession. 

“You sabotaged me!” You frown, James grabbing your leg so you can’t kick his side. 

“Listen, I overheard him boasting in the locker room. He’s not the type you should be around. Trust me.” He’s sincere, enough to make you relax. 

“He was a bit of an ass, sweetheart. Prongs isn’t entirely wrong.”

“You two are still snog-blocks.” Dorcas is quick at your defense, crossing her arms in solidarity.

“If I wasn’t banished to solitude, I’d kiss you, Dorcas.” 

“Time and place, lovely.” You clutch your heart, feigning a blush in your antics.

*********

“Alright, I need my beauty rest. Someone needs to remain the prettiest of the friend group.” Sirius stretches, tapping a dazed Remus on the cheek to get him up. His actions initiate the turning in of the rest of the group. To which you and James groan. 

“It’s only 2, you’re all lame!” Potter sneers, looking to you for consolation. You nod along, displeased with their departure. 

“You night owls can stay up as long as you want, but we have all week to be sleep deprived.” Marlene ruffles James’ hair and kisses your temple as she stupors inside, giggling all the way with the other girls. 

“And then there were two.” You stretch, moving over when James shifts, moving into a laying position. In order to fit comfortably, you still have to keep your legs over his. “You know, now theres three other open couches.”

“I like it here.” He decides, enclosing his hands over his chest and settling in. You chuckle, letting him tangle his legs in yours. 

It’s confusing, because he chooses you as his passenger, his seat-mate, scares other guys away. Fuck, he planned an entire trip just because you and Sirius have such shitty home lives. Guilt twinges in your chest, and the alcohol allows you to finally say what you’ve been holding in since you first got in the car. “James?” He hums, hazel eyes looking up at the array of stars in the night sky. “Why did you do all this?” Potter sits up, looking over to you in disbelief. 

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you like it here?”

“Like it? It’s a shore house filled with all of my closest friends and alcohol. I love it here.” He laughs, nudging your legs with his own in teasing. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he starts, answering your question with one of his own. “Would you be willing to spend the whole summer here?” 

This time, you sit up, brows raised in shock. “Sorry?” 

“Instead of having to go home, you could stay here.” 

“James, I couldn’t possibly intrude like that-”

“It wouldn’t just be us two.” He unnecessarily reassures. “I’ve already spoke with Pads, and he’s staying. My mum doesn’t want him going home either.”

“You already talked to your parents about it?” 

“In the chance either of you said yes. They both are more than happy to have us stay here. There’s internship positions at my dad’s company, and he said if we looked after the house and helped him out, we’d be more than welcome to stay.” 

“Are you starting a shelter for the broken homes club or something?” You jest, not in poor taste, but because it’s the only defense mechanism you know. James frowns anyway, upset at the thought.

“I care about the both of you. And...I’d never want either of you going home to- Well, anything other than a place you feel safe. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you. Knowing I could have stopped it. Understand?”

You nod, warm tears brimming in your eyes. Because in a world full of people that don’t, James Potter cares. You tackle him in a hug, overcome with the foreign feeling of being cared about, protected. He falters, wrapping an arm around your waist with a small laugh. 

“That’s a yes, then?” You nod, smile pulling at your lips when he uses his thumb to wipe away your tears. 

“James?”

“Yeah?” He’s soft-spoken now, eyes studying yours as you press your hands to his chest. 

“Is there...Any other reason you told that guy to stay away from me?” He swallows, licking his lips with an unusual anxiety to him. He meets your eyes again, pleading for another hint.

“Would you want there to be?”

“I’d like to have my first kiss.” You play with a pull in his sweater, fighting a smile at his nervous demeanor. “Would you want it to be you?” He nods, slow, and honestly unsure if you’re fucking with him. Considering how embarrassed he’d be if this is some joke, or a dream, maybe. “James?” You move closer, and he snaps out of his daze.

“I would.” He averts his eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again to ensure you’re sincere. “Like to kiss you, I mean.” 

You remove the space between you, putting your lips to his and hoping it comes natural like everyone says. It must, because he’s pulling you into his lap, a hint of a whine escaping his throat. You grin, flushing at his eagerness. He squeezes your sides harder, a warning. 

“Stop it.”  He continues past your jaw, down your neck, hearts thrumming with excitement and uncertainty. He tilts your head with his thumb, grinning when he nips at your skin and you gasp. Pulling back, he surveys his work, kissing you two more times before letting you breath. 

Is that what I’ve been missing out on?” You pant, energy coursing through you and accentuating your buzz tenfold.

“Up to expectations?”

“Exceeded, I’m pretty sure.” You blink hard, taking hold of his wrists and moving them so they can slide under the hem of your shirt. You hold them at your waist, a silent sign to keep them there. Though you’re sure he would have anyway. He kisses you again, more intense this time, finally allowing all the pent up tension between the two of you release. 

James, against every fiber of being in his body, pulls you away from him. Both breathing hard to collect yourselves. “While I’d really, really like to keep this up.” He starts, trying not to reconsider when your perfume envelopes his senses. “I’d like to take you out for dinner first. If you’ll let me.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Potter?” You whisper, teasing him as if it’s the hottest gossip to reach Hogwarts. 

“Are you gonna say yes, pretty girl? Or leave me hanging?” You nod, and James throws his head back against the cushions, absolutely relieved. 

*************

You blink awake, fire still burning brightly after being charmed by Lilly earlier in the evening. In the midst of you and James conversation, filled with recalling old times, plans for the rest of the summer, and a lot more alcohol, you both fell asleep. James’ jumper covers your frame, while the boy lays on the other side with only a sweater to keep warm. 

“Prongs.” You nudge him, wincing when he groans. “It’s too cold, let’s go in.”

“Too tired,” he croaks, voice riddled with sleep, “too drunk. Come over on this side.” He rolls on his back, groaning again when the world spins with him. 

“What, like...Next to you?”

“No, curled up on the floor like a cat.” Your brows furrow at his sassiness, fighting a smile as you crawl over. Muttering a half-assed apology when you nearly knee his groin. 

Hesitantly, you place a head on his chest, letting him grab you under one knee and pulling it up so you leg rests over his abdomen. Immediately, he releases a deep breath, fully relaxed. Your body, though, tingles with that same electricity from before, keeping you awake. 

“Sleep.” He orders, nudging the back of your head with his shoulder, eyes closed but somehow aware.

“Can’t.”

“Is this alright?” He blinks awake, afraid he’s made you uncomfortable. 

“Good, this is good.” You reassure, pulling on his jumper so it covers both of you. He pushes your arm away, tugging on the fabric and covering only you again, stern in his actions. 

“Close your eyes. I need us both to sleep this alcohol off so I can kiss you again.”

“Who says I’ll let you, Potter?”

“I may have been your first kiss, but I’m also aiming to be your last. So please, Dove, shut up and sleep” You’re speechless, he’s stunned you with his confession and simultaneous attitude. 

“I hate you.”

“I seriously doubt that.” There’s a smile on his face, you can hear it in his grumbling voice. Wordlessly, he moves the arm that’s under you so he can stroke your cheek, eyebrows, and jaw with the hook of his finger. Knowing the gentle touch will send you off to sleep. And it does, because you don’t wake again until morning. 

********

“Rise and shine, love birds. If you want to hoot with the owls, you’ve got to fly with the eagles.” Sirius chimes, a click of a camera sounding out after he speaks.

“Any louder, Pads, and I’ll break your jaw.” James covers your ears, shielding you from your friends shrill laughter with an intense glare. His head pounds something awful, and he’s pretty sure he’s never been this hungover in his entire life. He remembers every second, though, memories of last night bringing a dopey smile to his face. Despite the alcohols consequences. 

“Hey.” He nudges your arm, ignoring the gawking of his friends through the glass sliding door as he wakes you. You yawn, stretching atop him and regaining sense of your surroundings. 

“Are we supposed to be spinning?” James rolls his eyes, much too fond of you for his own good. 

“We have to get up, theres breakfast.”

“I can’t eat a single thing right now.”

“Yes you can,” he pushes you again, sighing in feigned annoyance when you rub your face into his shirt. Shielding the morning light from your eyes. In one swift movement, he sits you both up and hurls you over his shoulder, ignoring your squirms of protest with an obnoxious yawn. He sets you down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, grumbling a hello to your astonished group of friends. You’re too hungover to feel embarrassed, smiling a thank you to Remus when he slides his glass of orange juice toward you, Sirius’ sunglasses over his eyes. 

“Gimme those,” you plead, extending an arm that’s quickly swatted away.

“Get your own,” he whines, “I let you have my juice.” You accept this, nursing the glass as though it’ll save your life. 

“Late night?” Lilly teases, putting a plate of food in front of you and James. You both groan, but offer your gratitude for breakfast anyway. 

“Figured you would have at least made it inside.” Marlene chastises, amused with your zombie-like states. You frown when James finishes what’s left in your glass, watching as he leans across the counter to grab the carton and refills it. Sirius places a steaming cup of tea in front of you and Potter, avoiding your distrusting gaze as he clears his throat to speak. 

He’s awfully cheeky all the sudden, hoisting himself onto the counter with his signature mischievous grin. “Never have I ever…Had my first kiss?” His voice tilts in questioning at the end, and you’re momentarily displeased with the realization you’ll be spending the rest of the summer with the shit-starting bastard you consider a friend. 

You’re absolutely flushed, curling in on yourself when a chorus of cheers erupts after taking a swift sip from your mug.

[spookyji]

# soobin + oversized sweaters !!

tw. f!reader, perv!soobin, morning after, massive size kink, fantasizing, praise kink, bulge kink, unprotected sex (don’t do this please). minors dni + nsfw !!

a/n. part two! i was in such a good mood writing this one >~< repost bc none of tags worked last night lol

mini series masterlist

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it’s warm. very warm. your bleary eyes blink open, greeted soobin’s pale chest softly heaving with slow breaths. limp arms circling your bare body, draped in a heavy comforter. sun rays peek through the window curtains, as if thinking of waking you two but hesitating. as much as you would love to stay in his arms, it’s much too hot to bear for much longer. gently untangling your legs, you undo his clingy grip and push the comforter off, preferring the soft, thinner sheets as you sit up, cool air greeting your overheated skin. “where… are you going?” a quiet mumble sounds from behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as soobin shifts, placing his soft head of bed hair into your lap.

“isn’t it too hot?” you ask, running your hands through his messy hair. “not really,” he groans, glancing up at you blearily before blinking in confusion at the dots of bruises. “where’d you get hurt from?” giggling, you decide to tease him. “you don’t remember? what happened last night?” a blush instantly flares across his cheeks as he burrows his face into the pillows, shy from the resurfacing memories. desperate, heated kisses from time apart, hands gripping your waist as sinful sounds of infatuation filled the bedroom. as you giggled at his apparent shame, you really only knew half of it.

while soobin was embarrassed at the thought of his depraved self, he could also feel himself becoming hard again at his memories; the image of you waiting for him occupying his mind. wearing nothing but his sweater, massive on you and draping over your delicate shoulders, sleeves dangling over your hands as you sat on the sofa, nestled in the woven garment. your small figure, so overwhelmed by his clothes, broke the final straw of his patience as he rushed you in a smothering kiss, lifting off the hem of the sweater as he carried you back to your room. the image burned in his conscious, your tinkling voice losing to the recollection of your lewd moans as he pushed his large cock into your tiny pussy—“soobin?” you ask, concerned at how long he’s spent with hiding, “did i tease you too much? im sorr””—it’s not you!” soobin gasps, jerking his head up from the pillow, “erm, well it is you–i mean not… really.” his voice trails off, flustered at his train of thoughts. “are you sure?” you ask, startled at his sudden outburst. “yeah. just embarrassed.” he mumbles, pulling the comforter securely over his body, ensuring his hard cock was hidden. as much as he knew you’d be willing to help, he couldn’t bear to explain how he’d gotten so hard so fast.

“im going to make breakfast, okay?” ruffling his hair, you stand up and exit the room, wondering if he just needed some food to function again. with a smile, you scoop the oversized sweater off the sofa where it had been abandoned, smiling as you pull it on. he always got embarrassed the day after. meanwhile, soobin was in a dilemma. he could try to get himself off in the time it took you to make breakfast, but there was always the chance you came in and saw him. then he’d have to explain. but he couldn’t just go to breakfast normally with a raging hard on! he thought, before sitting up, biting the comforter between his teeth to prevent himself from moaning too loudly. stroking his cock, soobin let his imagination run wild, imaging it was your small, cute hands and not his large one, inhaling your scent from the comforter as he closed his eyes. your sweater-paw clad hands innocently rubbing his dick, kitten licking the tip as the neckline dipped too low, revealing the tops of your breasts in the low light. panting through the soft stuffing of the comforter, soobin quickens his pace, nearly reaching his climax before the door opens, dropping the blanket from his mouth.

“soobin?” you ask, confusion and hurt evident in your eyes, “a-are you getting yourself off… when im here?” “no! it’s not what it looks like—“ he begins, before seeing your body clad in the same sweater from last night, wiping all thoughts from his mind. brushing your thighs, large sweater paws and wide neckline revealing your collar bones. the massive size of the sweater engulfing your smaller body. too big. for you. hurt. you’re sad, he registers, and decides to tell the truth, no matter how humiliating it could be. “i-i didn’t want to say it, but… umm… ireallylikeyouinmysweateranditturnsmeon.” soobin mumbles, avoiding your gaze. “huh…?” you cock your head, confused. “y-you wearing my sweater turns me on.” meeting your eyes with a massive blush, he confesses, expecting you to recoil. “really?” you beam, jumping on the bed beside him. “y-yeah.” he murmurs, unsure at your enthusiasm. smile turning into a sinfully sweet one, you snuggle up to him, whispering in his ear. “so, it turns you on when i do this?” a sweater paw find his hard cock, stroking it with your small hands as he had fantasized. “when I do this?” you repeat, tugging down the neckline of the sweater to reveal your breasts, large shoulders sleeves slipping down your arms.

in an instant, your back falls against the sheets as soobin flips you over, pinning you down with a flushed face, desperate pants conveying his arousal. “keep it on?” he nearly begs, hand traveling up your thigh, circling your freshly wet pussy. a small nod is all soobin needs before two long fingers plunge into your cunt, curling and sliding in and out as you mewl in arousal, sweater hem riding up your legs as you shift in pleasure. stroking your sweet spot, his thumb gently strokes your clit, eliciting lewd whimpers as you cling to the hand propping him up, small fingers clawing for relief as heat races through your skin towards your burning core. “s-soobin!” you cry, arching your back off the bed as uou approach your high, gasping breathlessly as the pressure releases, juices drenching his hand as your orgasm washes over you. “god, y-you’re so perfect, sweetheart.” he mumbles, kissing your neck as he tugs the neckline of the sweater lower, soft licks and bites trailing down over your chest.

“n-need you, binnie.” you mumble, reaching for his cock. “anything for you, doll.” he murmurs, before slowly sheathing himself in your slick cunt, resisting the excruciating urge to push his massive length in your welcoming warmth without hesitation. with a gasp, your hands find tour abdomen, feeling his overwhelmingly large dick deep inside your warmth. “c-can you feel it, doll?” he pants, “you took me so well. so good for me.” you give him a small nod, dazed from the full feeling. taking your cute hand into his, soobin slowly thrusts into your tight cunt, your high-pitched mewls drowning his groans of ecstasy, sun filling the air once more. rhythmic pushes into your sopping warmth, clenching around him he hits your sweet spot without hesitation.

“y-you can go faster.” you whisper, his lips crashing onto yours as he increases his pace, skin on skin overtaking your senses in euphoric pleasure. tracing your figure with his large hands, he finds your hip, pushing you down to meet his hips. swallowing your cute cries, messily meeting tongues, love overflowing through all physical touch. “sw-sweeetheart, getting close!” soobin gasps, sloppily thrusting into your warmth, clenching your hand tightly in his. “m-me too!” you cry, lacing your small fingers with his as you both reach your climaxes, cum dripping out of your sensitive pussy as white fills you up beyond the brim, your juices mixing with his. a string of saliva hands between your swollen lips, his heart shaped ones prettily opened with heaving pants of exhaustion and pleasure.

“you’re so perfect,” soobin sighs, leaning back as he admires his work. your chest splotchy with love bites, disheveled sweater clinging to your sweaty body, cunt seeping his cum. seed slipping down your ass, his fingers deftly push it back into your swollen cunt. you whimper at the full feeling, before his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. “love you.” “love you more.” “love you most.” whispers of adoration endlessly fill the lovesick air, soft kisses shared as all thoughts are forgotten, replaced by intimate endearment.

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taehyun’s next in the series, stay tuned ^^

[luveline]

ZOMBIE AU YES steve and you but reluctant allies - forced to travel together and when you get stuck in a tight spot, you fully believe he's going to leave you behind. but steve does what he does best, he comes back

tysm for ur request! reluctant friends to lovers arc starts now. tw for zombie typical gore, violence + apocalypse struggles (near enoigh starvation, weight loss, isolation) this got longer than it was meant to

It's not that you don't like Steve. Though maybe that's what he thinks. He doesn't seem to like you all that much.

Steve Harrington is pretty. He's a pretty boy. You hadn't expected him to be able to fight or defend, or even run all that fast. He'd proved you wrong on each account eventually — "I ran track, idiot," — but the reluctance of your pairing has remained.

You can't like everyone. You and Steve simply don't fit. You didn't in high school and you don't now, and you know in reality that he doesn't like you. Not really. He tolerates you and he shares with you because you have more chance of surviving together than apart.

He searches the waste of Indiana for his friends. You follow. You have nothing else to do.

You're scouring for supplies in a mall not unlike the Starcourt in Hawkins. You imagine it's as desolate and derelict as this one. Escalators frozen in time, storefronts destroyed by time. Dangerous. There's a thousand places for a zombie to be dwelling. They aren't good at hiding, obviously, but you're also not good at finding them. Steve says you have poor observational skills.

"Yes, well, I'd hardly have any reason to need them if it weren't for the end of the world," you mutter.

"Why do you talk like that?"

"Like what?" you ask with a scowl.

"Like- like a rich girl. A really rich girl."

"I don't sound anything like you."

"Weak insult based in sexism. Next."

You drop the shirt you'd been looking at. "Right, I forgot. Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, progressive."

He meets your gaze and smiles at you. He does this, sometimes, where he forgets he doesn't like you. Then something happens, a disagreement or an argument, and you're back to square one, Steve and his burden.

"I'm very progressive." He looks between you and the shirt he's holding, a men's cut, plain with long sleeves. It looks warm. "I think this'll fit. Come here."

You step over a fallen mannequin and let him hold the shirt to your abdomen.

"You're losing weight," he murmurs.

"Lucky me."

His hand touches your shoulder and he draws very close. "Bad news."

"I had it to lose."

"You need all the help you can get." He doesn't bother saying why. You're both more than aware of how dire the food situation is getting. If you can't find anything worth eating here, you're probably fucked. You might be fine. (You're fucked.)

You take the shirt. "Do you think it's silly to put it on now?"

"Definitely. I'll turn around."

He turns. You put your bag on the floor and quickly take off your outerwear. Your shirt smells bad because you smell worse, the strong smell of sweat no matter how much you scrub at it lingering. The fabric is imbued with a permanent odour.

New t-shirt in place, you preen at the feeling of new cotton over your skin.

"Are you done?"

"No-"

"Hurry. We need to move."

You always 'need to move'. You think Steve says it to sound cool.

You pull your clothes back on and hang your backpack from your aching shoulders. Over time, the bag feels heavier. Funny, as it's contents constantly lighten.

"We haven't found anything for you yet," you say.

Your shirt had needed replacing, it was thin and stained with a seam slowly unthreading. Steve's pants are worse. The zip is tied closed with a hair tie and the cuffs are pulling apart.

Steve reveals a pair he'd already set aside. "Tada."

"Put them on!"

"Sheesh, hold your horses."

"You could've been changing while I was. You always nag about wasting daylight."

"And leave us both defenseless. Good idea." His tone suggests a genuineness he doesn't possess.

You stand guard. Steve changes. You have that intrusive thought to turn and look at the sound of his belt unbuckling, the shucking of fabric. Intrusive, unreal. You don't look because you're not a pervert. You do, however, wonder about it. His naked legs, his thighs.

You shake your head and bite the inside of your lip to stave off bad thoughts. Stupid.

"Let's go."

Out of the clothing store and back to the walkways. You and Steve skulk with your backs to each other and some space between you, watching the open shutters for zombies or other people. You don't know which is scarier.

The mall is wrecked. Smashed glass, mysterious liquids, no electricity. Daylight streams in bright and unhindered by the huge skylights above. Nature struggles to fall in with it, but it does. Birds nest in the rafters, bugs cling to the walls. You suppress chills at the scuttling sounds of vermin and almost trip over an upended rack of stuffies outside of the toy store.

"You okay?" Steve asks. You don't know if he's looking at you, your eyes pinned on the stairwell across the way. Accidental or otherwise, making noise is a signal to the zombies that you're here.

If there's anybody here, they definitely would've heard you.

You don't answer Steve's question. He doesn't ask again.

"There's, like, a hot pretzel stand to the right," he says, intrigued.

You check what's in front of you one last time and then catch up to Steve. You'd love to take his arm, not because you think he'd let you or anything, but it's easy to miss touching people and he's right there in front of you.

"Under the shutter," he says quietly.

You crawl under and emerge in the dark. Steve joins you with his torch already in hand, flashing light quickly in all four corners of the room.

"This might be a bad idea," you whisper.

"It's okay. I doubt zombies can crawl."

"If they can?"

Predictably, Steve ignores you.

He weaves between untouched chairs and tables. You catch onto the end of his shirt and he's generous enough to pretend you haven't, the two of you making your way to the front counter. There might've been edible food behind the glass once but now it's all infested. It's disgusting.

You've seen a lot worse.

"That's gross," Steve says.

You tap the display and a dead fly falls off of the glass.

"Lift the counter?" you whisper.

You make your way to the employees only door. "Be careful," he reminds you under his breath, "be quiet. You have your knife out?"

"Got it."

He throws the door open quick and looks around. There's a walk-in freezer to the left, an old couch in the middle, and a storage area to the right. Steve again checks each corner with the flashlight, the both of you holding your breath. You're holding the knife so tightly you can feel each divot of the grip moulding your skin.

"I think we're clear."

"I think we need another torch," you mumble.

It's really scary in the dark.

"They'll have batteries somewhere," Steve says. You think he might be humouring your fear. He's likely tired of having to reassure you.

Again, you grab his shirt. It's too dark to navigate the room without him.

Steve leads you to the staff kitchenette, opening the cabinets one by one. There's mugs in one, plates in another. Untouched by dust.

He has you hold the torch while he searches through drawers of kitchen tools and equipment.

"Do you miss pretzels?" you ask.

"Mm. With the cinnamon sugar."

"You like cinnamon?"

He pushes aside what looks like an ice cube tray of all things and finds an old key. He offers it to you with a peculiar smile, as if to say What do you think that does?

"Everyone likes cinnamon," he says.

"Not everybody."

"Everybody I knew did. Robin fucking loves cinnamon. At Christmas, she'd make me take her out for warm cinnamon cookies and... frozen cokes." His tone had started soft. It ends strangled.

"Frozen cokes? In winter? Isn't that sorta weird?" you ask.

He shuts the drawer harshly and doesn't answer. Your attempt to cut the tension backfires once again with him. Who could've guessed.

The next drawer is a motherlode.

"Yes," you say, cheeks taken by a sudden smile.

There's enough batteries to power your torch for a year. Steve tears open the packet and holds a hand up without looking at you. You scramble to open your bag and pull out your torch. Bigger and heavier than his is, it illuminates larger spaces and makes for less nerve-wracking supply runs, but it eats batteries like no tomorrow.

Steve cracks open your proffered torch and loads it up with batteries. The light flickers on before he's put the closing back into place.

He shines it straight in your eyes.

"Nice," you grumble.

"Now you got your own you can quit clinging," he says. "Why don't you go look in the freezer?"

"It'll all be spoiled. There hasn't been electricity in forever."

"Might find a can of something," he says with a shrug.

"If you want me to leave you alone, just say that."

"I want you to leave me alone."

You huff and spin away. Your torch shines over the couch, an ugly mess of floral pattern that went out of fashion a decade ago but is surprisingly new for a staff room. You drop yourself into it and stare at the ceiling for a while, dust motes drifting in the ray of torch light like snowflakes. You haven't seen snow in a long enough time that you're surprised you can remember what it feels like. If you close your eyes, stick out your tongue, a cold like ice feels sharp on your taste buds.

Steve cusses to himself. You sit up and find him sucking on an injured finger.

"Need help?" you ask.

He sticks his knife into the top of a cardboard box. "What did I tell you? Go look in the freezer."

"Steve, there's not gonna be anything in there."

"I worked in a place like this before. Just look."

You roll your eyes, feel super guilty about rolling your eyes, and then roll your eyes again when he says, "Don't be lazy."

"I'm not," you defend. Your whining falls on deaf ears.

The freezer door handle is fucked. You pull and pull until your palms burn and can't get it to unlock. Changing tactics, you press all of your weight forward and feel something click like it's not supposed to. The door crashes forward and you fall to one knee with a startled shriek.

Your heart slams between your ribs. When you're trying to be hypervigilant of every small sound, every movement, every change in your environment, sudden events are like a shot of adrenaline.

You land on one hand. Your torch flickers further in the room.

"Fuck," you mutter.

"What happened?" Steve asks, his footsteps fast and moving toward you.

You scramble forward to grab the torch before he can see you've broken it. You're ashamed at your own idiocy — you burn with it, a flush of heat in your cheeks that. Steve won't lie to you to make you feel better, so if the torch is broken he's gonna call you an idiot for it.

"Nothing!" you call.

The smell hits you like a freight train. Spoiled milk. Shelves and shelves of spoiled milk and batter. You gag and throw a hand over your nose. It smells almost as bad as a zombie, and they smell like fresh hell.

"Y/N," Steve says.

You throw your eyes over your shoulder and realise the door has closed behind you. There's a sound of a jiggling door handle on the other side. From your side it doesn't move.

A sinking feeling begins.

"Steve," you say, hitting your torch against your thigh. The light flickers off completely. You gawp.

"Can you open the door?"

You push your weight against it urgently. The handle doesn't want to move.

"I can't get it," you say, panicked.

"Push it inward."

"I am!"

"Okay, alright. Hold your horses."

"Steve, it won't open."

"I heard you the first time. Don't worry. I'm gonna get it open."

You throw yourself at the door. Steve must guess from the sound. "Stop," he says, frustration seeping into his low tenor, "that's not gonna work. It's hinged inward. Stand back, okay? I'm gonna force it."

"It's dark in here," you murmur pleadingly, moving away from the door.

"What?"

Your own fast breathing echoes around you. You hit the torch with the meat of your palm and the light flickers. You hit it again and it dissapears. You shouldn't be so scared, but the door closed means your trapped and the dark feels so oppressive now. Dark means you die, because you won't see a zombie before it bites you.

You realise that there's more than one person breathing.

Or rather, an illusion of breathing. A moan.

Your blood turns to ice as you spin. Your torchlight flicker flicker flickers, illuminating the face of somebody long dead.

"Oh my god," you say. It sticks to your throat like each word has been dipped in honey. Or ichor. "Fuck, Steve! Steve!"

"What?" he shouts back, equally freaked.

One eye opens. The other remains closed. One second, you can see the open socket, half an eyeball. The next, pitch darkness filled only by the grind of clicking teeth. Your breath catches in your throat and you keen as you walk backwards, the torch shaking in your hand.

The light flicks back on with your movement.

The zombie's face appears in front of yours.

You scream and fall flat on your butt, backpack preventing you from slamming onto your back. The torch turns off. You scrabble for your knife — where the fuck is your knife? Where's your knife?

Steve hammers against the door. "What the fuck?"

"There's a fucking geek in here!" you squeal, throat tight. You can barely get the words out. The zombie can't see you in the dark but it can hear you, it can smell you, and it's footsteps draw closer, one after another.

"Steve, get me out of here!" you beg.

He doesn't answer.

"Steve?" You don't sound like yourself. You're not sure you've ever made this sound before.

Nothing.

Your hands shake hard. You can't feel them as you bring the torch into your lap. You try to find the catch in the dark. When you can't you mess with the lens, screwing it tight to the right. You feel it move in, spinning back on.

The light exposes the zombies gained distance. He towers over you and you can't speak, can't breathe, can't sob. You hold your arms in front of your face and hope it won't hurt.

The door slams open. You get pushed roughly into the zombie's legs, the breath knocked from your chest.

You crumple in on yourself.

Footsteps slide with a rubber screech over the linoleum and you search the floor for your torch, breath coming in shirt pants. Your hand closes around it and you flick the switch with little success. Broken again. You must've loosened a fuse.

"Steve," you say desperately. Please don't die.

The zombie makes a noise like retching, Steve groans in extertion and then there's a sound of wetness, a sinking. A body falls to the floor.

Silence.

You flinch as he turns on his torch and shines it in your face.

"Oh, thank god."

Steve leans down and helps you up into his arms. You struggle to catch your breath, your face pressed hard into his chest. You can't cry though you desperately want to, too busy fighting for air.

Steve holds you, hands at your back. "It's okay. You got it, dummy, just take it slow."

You nod. You can't really focus as he pulls you out of the freezer. The air noticeably changes from brain matter to plain old stale.

"I thought you-" You swallow against an aching throat. "I thought you were gonna leave me."

"Why would you think that?" Steve asks.

"I was- I-" you stammer to a halt.

Your arms move of their own accord, over his shoulders and behind. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, hot tears spreading over his skin as you pull him in close, as close as you can.

Steve's hand is slow at first, hesitant against your shoulder. Your backpack stops him from hugging you properly, but you think maybe he might try otherwise.

"I wouldn't have left you here," he says.

There's hints. Confusion, sincerity. A rawness. You can't see his face, his torch pointed up at the ceiling, only where the light kisses his brow, the bridge of his nose.

Steve let's you cling until you've caught your breath.

"Let's sit down," he says.

He encourages you onto the old couch and shoves his small torch between the cushions. You miss his touch as soon as he leaves, an anxiety at being left alone dawns like a yawning chasm between you. Your relief when he returns can't be understated: you feel like a spent, abused nerve.

Cortisol and adrenaline crash through your veins. All that's left to do is come down. Hard, when you don't feel completely safe. Haven't felt completely safe in a long time. Steve's return helps.

"Don't touch the rim. It's sharp," he says, pressing an open can into your hand.

"Steve, is this-"

He passes you a spoon. "Sure is."

You don't have the luxury of nausea. Life or death situations start to wear off quicker when you're hungry, half-starved, and after a few good mouthfuls of pudding you're starting to feel better. Not perfect, not any less afraid, but there's a door between you and the zombie's dead dead body, and a door with a chair propped under the handle between you and the rest of the world. And there's Steve, a spoon between his lips with your poor torch in hand.

"You left your knife on the table. Do you know how stupid that is?" he asks, a spoon hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Yes."

"Hm." He whacks the torch with his spoon. "Shit."

"I'm sorry."

"About the knife? You should be. You were totally defenseless."

"The torch."

He puts your torch down on the floor besides your gathered things. "Couldn't be helped."

"How'd you open the door?"

"Running start."

You sniffle and eat another spoonful of pudding. The last thing you'd eaten was half a gronala bar in the early hours of the morning when Steve had insisted you'd need your energy. It had been a year out of date and chalk in your mouth. The pudding may as well be straight molten gold for how valuable it feels.

It goes down soft. Calms your aching throat. By the time you've finished you almost feel settled. Almost.

"Steve... I'm sorry. For thinking you'd leave me. That's not fair. I mean, I know-" Why is it hard to talk to him? He's the only perosn you've had for company in God knows how long and you're still fumbling for the right thing to say. "You wouldn't do something like that to me. You have morals."

"I would do anything for my friends," he says, like he's disagreeing. "I would do anything to see them again. See them safe. Anything."

You bite your tongue. Tears sting. Hypocritical tears, because haven't you had that thought before? You'd do anything to get what you want. You'd do anything to live. Steve doesn't owe you anything.

"I didn't think you'd come back," you confess sheepishly.

"I'm always gonna come back for you."

You look up at him, finding his eyes illuminated in the dim light sweet and soft and brown.

"I want you to be safe."

"Are you saying I'm your friend?" you ask.

He glares at you. "Are we in middle school?"

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? What, I have to invite you to my birthday party or something? We need to go rollerblading together?"

"You're an asshole."

He snorts. "Asshole just saved your life."

"I didn't even wanna go in there, if you remember. I expressly said that I didn't wanna go in the freezer. It's your fault I was even in there in the first place."

"That's ridiculous. And a low blow. And fuck you."

"Not very friendly."

He laughs abruptly. It's a pretty sound, made golden by it's genuineness. Steve does sarcastic snickers and mocking chuckles, and none have ever sounded as his true laugh does now.

"I'll show you friendly," he mutters.

You raise your eyebrows. He moves enough to make the couch shift, upheaving your empty can and spoon. They fall together with a metallic clinking.

You watch mournfully. "I kind of wish I hadn't eaten it that fast. When's the last time we had sugar?"

"Don't speak too soon."

Steve shows you the stash. An entire box of pudding, enough to feed you both for a month, though the sugar might rot your teeth.

"We'll be sick of it in a week," Steve promises.

You're not so sure. Chocolate is chocolate, whether it's eaten during the zombie apocalypse or not.

-

more steve zombie!au