#which is probably why it never seems to stick once i stop going

[glitterdustcyclops]

so i've seen my therapist for 3 sessions now which isn't a lot but I think it's enough to say there is just something really refreshing about working with an explicitly queer positive/affirming therapist

like i did not realize how much weight i was bringing to my old sessions, of doing the mental arithmetic of "how can i explain this in the way a Straight Man will understand" and now it's just easy to...speak. and express myself as unflinching and honest as i want to be

is very nice

[sanakiras]

LIAR, LIAR!

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

❝ AND THE DANCE FLOOR IS FILLING UP WITH BLOOD, BUT OH LORD, YOU’VE NEVER BEEN SO IN LOVE! ❞

WORD COUNT — 13.5k

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, unrealistic circumstances, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst, medium long hair!gyu bc self-indulgence, tsundere-ish reader again guys sorry i love her so bad, mentions of parental neglect, this ended up so long help

♪ verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex,, florence + the machine - mermaids,, zayn - bordersz,, mikky ekko - who are you, really?,, q - alone,, danna paola - tenemos que hablar,, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, summer camp - i want you

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. the music recs above are also really nice to get into the vibe! enjoyyyy :D

[ RETURN TO PART ONE ] ✧˚ · .⋆ ★ [ TWO ]

viii. I LOVE YOU LIKE A DRUG

november has a harsh cold to it that goes right through the skin of your cheeks. with your long black coat and matching gloves, you walk through the city, heading towards your lawyer’s office.

it’s been a few days since you last saw or talked to mingyu. you’ve been thinking about the kiss constantly, unable to stop it from clouding your mind. it’s hard to believe you hated his guts for years and completely changed your opinion on him within months — he took you by surprise on that. which you’re not sure how you feel about.

it’s as if his handprints were etched into your skin. you can still remember exactly how it felt, where they were. more importantly, perhaps, you know what your mind keeps leading to when the memory runs through your head.

that you want nothing more than for him to put his hands on you again. you want him so much that you have to clench your fists and tell yourself to get it together.

the universe must like to mess with you, as you receive a text from him at that exact moment. stopping in your tracks on the street, you’re just about to read it when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

once you’ve looked up from your phone, you see the devil himself standing there with a meek little smile on his face, which has you scoffing when he greets you. “hi.”

his dark hair is slicked back as he sports a thick winter jacket, jeans and black shoes. god, he’s handsome. why is he so annoying?

instead of responding to his greeting, you just speak your mind. “what’re you doing here?”

“chan mentioned you had an appointment in the neighborhood, so here i am. i wanted to see you.”

“why?”

“what, am i not allowed to visit my partner in crime?”

you purse your lips. “i thought we both agreed on discretion regarding our relationship.”

“and what kind of relationship is that?”

“an understanding.” your response comes out colder than anticipated, but you stick with it. “look, gyu, what we did… we probably shouldn’t do it again.”

he seems surprised. and a little disappointed, which he hides very quickly, but not quick enough.

so he pouts at you, doing his best not to dwell on it. “okay. any particular reason?”

you inhale sharply, trying to give him the best possible excuse you can come up with. “we agreed to keep it professional, didn’t we?”

“we did.” he nods, speaking in a way as if he were focusing on something else. “is that all there is to it? or do you have another reason?”

his gaze is playful, which makes you smile as you look down at your feet for a moment. “i’m sure you can fill the blanks.”

“interesting choice of words.”

“god, you’re such a perv.”

mingyu laughs when you punch his shoulder, his hand comfortable on your lower back. you don’t swat it away, utterly contradicting your previous words, but you can’t find it in yourself to care that much.

two days later, you’re over at his apartment, continuing your research where you left off last week, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining things, but it feels like there is a palpable tension in the air. soft rain taps against the windows while you’re looking at some security footage his friend seungkwan sent over about an hour ago.

with the two of you sitting beside eachother as you’re looking at the screen of your laptop, you find it difficult to focus on the footage, because you feel electrified by his mere presence. it’s ridiculous. he accidentally brushes your knee with your hand, and you feel a rush going through your body. a candle is lit on the table — his tan skin looks beyond beautiful, his brown eyes piercing through yours like never before.

you want him.

you. want. him. and no one else.

it’s driving you nuts, and as if he can read your mind, he begins to talk about it.

“i haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss.”

while the footage keeps playing in the background, you bite your lip, sucking in a breath. “gyu.” you say his name in a near scolding manner.

“do you like me?” he suddenly turns his head to face you, which feels borderline intrusive. like he’s able to see everything that’s going on in your head and heart.

it steals your breath, making your voice sound somewhat strained as a result, and you can’t even bring yourself to lie about it any longer. “i might.”

“i like you. a lot.” he says, and when you think he’s getting closer to you, you stand up from your seat, doing whatever you need to do to get it back together. you don’t want him to know how you really feel, so you clench your fists in your place, your back facing him.

“what does it matter? we’re nothing more than partners. that’s all there is to it.”

as you shake your head to yourself, he gets up as well, moving to stand behind you. “is that why you kissed me?”

“it was just the heat of the moment.”

“you’re a good liar — but not that good.” mingyu shamelessly eyes your body up and down, and when you look over your shoulder, he meets your gaze with something that appears to resemble pride, in a way.

arrogance, perhaps.

for whatever reason, that ticks something off in you. “you want me to be honest? fine. i don’t want to like you, mingyu. i didn’t want to enjoy that kiss. i’ve spent years hating you to the bone, and changing that opinion on you feels like betraying myself.”

he blinks at your sudden and blunt confession, but it’s honest and clear to him.

then he nods in understanding.

“just… hypothetically, if i said i wanted to kiss you again, what would you do?”

you notice a clear difference in his tone, his breathing, his eyes dropping down to your lips — oh, he’s fucking turned on. he knows you want him as badly as he wants you. you both know it.

“i’d tell you it was a one-time thing.”

he gets closer to you, eyelids hanging low and the hint of that damn smirk tugging at his mouth. “how about one more? for good measure. just to get our rocks off.”

the proposition is almost laughable, yet you selfishly find yourself agreeing. “just once?”

“just once.” the palm of his hand cups your jaw, and you know you’re done for when you lean in first, causing him to smile triumphantly right before his lips lock with yours.

this is what you’ve both been yearning for the past week. now that you have it, it feels like drugs, almost — addicting.

you kiss him with vigor, and his tongue slips into your mouth, leaving you aching for more. it’s when his hand pulls you closer by your waist that you force yourself to back away from him, both you and him gasping for air.

“gyu, we were supposed to—”

“keep things professional, i know,” he breathes out, his forehead resting against yours as if he has to make the biggest decision of his life, “but i don’t want to anymore.”

his hands are still on your waist, trailing down to the flesh of your upper legs, and he squeezes it, feeling sick at the idea of someone touching you there that’s not him.

“need you so bad. please — let me touch you.”

looking at his desperate form for a moment, you internally decide to go for whatever your body wants — and that’s to have him tonight.

so you roll your eyes, pulling him to you by his black t-shirt, your hands on the back of his neck before he can comprehend it. he hoists you up by the back of your thighs, taking you to his spacious bedroom.

your back touches the soft bed within seconds. his hands continue to glide up and down your body, and he subtly puts his one hand underneath the hem of your shirt, fingers touching your warm skin, and you almost forget to breathe.

mingyu feels your fingers pulling at the waistband of his jeans, and he relishes in how eager you are. he kisses your neck and moves lower painfully slowly, causing you to writhe underneath him, because you need him now.

it’s certainly a first for you to have such a need and desperation to fuck someone. and for him, of all people. if you had known about this in the morning, you wouldn’t have believed it.

but then again, the tension has been brewing between you two for years, reaching its highest point over the last couple weeks.

maybe he was onto something when he suggested for you to fuck him back in the strip club.

his lips are touching your bare stomach, and you show a hint of dominance by undoing the buttons of your pants and shoving down your panties, putting your hand on his head to guide it between your legs.

and he just lets you.

he takes your pants and underwear from your ankles and discards the pieces on the floor, hands on the back of your thighs once more as he pushes them to lean over his shoulders.

the first few seconds are spent basking in his excitement. his heart races when he looks you in the eye, and he grins to himself before diving in.

for some reason, he feels this primal urge to prove himself to you, to make you feel good like no one ever has before.

whatever the hell it is that made him have such a massive change of heart, he doesn’t know.

but he does know one thing — he worships the ground you walk on.

so to hear you gasp and whine for him when he eats you out only spurs him on to keep going, to make it dirtier and messier and keep having you moan his name.

mingyu encourages you to pull on his hair, and with each strand being pulled, he grows harder in his pants. he moans at the pain, humming against your pussy while his tongue is buried inside you.

you’re grinding against his face and he hums again, loving the feeling. “rub it in my face, baby, ‘s so good—” he babbles as his cock is rock-hard and throbbing against the fabric of his jeans, and he rubs his hard-on against the matress to get any kind of friction.

over the course of the years, even while hating him, you wondered if he was good in bed.

you didn’t think your question was going to be answered by first-hand experience.

he’s not only sickeningly good at providing pleasure — he seems to get off on it, too. your fingers clamp on his long strands of hair, thighs around his head, almost suffocating him, and even when you hit your first climax, he just keeps going. his tongue moves as if you’re not completely crumbling before him.

with a sudden sensitivity hitting you, you have to pull his face from your pussy, and he looks at you with lust-blown eyes and your wetness smeared over his lips and chin.

yeah, you fucking like him. jesus.

the little fang-shaped teeth he has show themselves when he grins at the mess he’s made of you. “want me to go again?”

“would you?”

“i’d keep going for hours if that’s what you want.”

pressing your lips together, you inhale deeply, ‘cause he looks like he means it, too. “well, as great as that sounds, i want you in me. now.”

he would’ve had a damn field trip eating you out again, but he certainly won’t complain, because he’s about to bust in his pants from just looking at you. his eyes return to your figure when you take your shirt off, dick twitching when you unclasp your lacy bra and show your completely bare body to him.

“are you just gonna keep staring?” you ask teasingly, and he needs a few seconds to get his brain running again, chuckling at your words before he removes his own clothes, pushing you back to lay you down.

“can’t help that i like what i see.”

you’re about to give him a witty retort in return when you feel the tip of his cock at the entrance of your hole, pushing forward just the slightest bit, and your lashes flutter at the sensation. he bites his lower lip at the feeling, a sudden intensity hitting the both of you.

then he pushes himself inside, inch by inch, achingly slowly. your brows scrunch together and you throw your head back, manicured nails digging into his bedsheets.

“hah—gyu—” you mumble, tension setting into your shoulderblades as he stretches you open, and you’re so tight that he feels just as suffocated as you do.

“fuck, you’re fucking tight.” he huffs out, utterly savoring your wetness wrapping around him. “can i keep going?”

at hearing the question, a breathy laugh escapes you. “how fucking big are you to have to ask that?”

“well, ‘m only halfway in right now, baby.”

fucking hell. the look on your face is borderline horrified, because jesus, you’re gonna need to adjust to him.

he lowers his chest to hover above yours, and your hands immediately move to his back, nails aching to dig into his skin. he’s only focused on your face now, and he pushes himself in all the way, watching your face contort in pain and pleasure.

your body stiffens for a second before it relaxes, and he has to hold down the urge to start moving. “that’s it. took me all the way in,” he mutters, and you nod to yourself, accidentally clamping down on him, at which he groans.

the first movements are small, slow — gentle. you release long, dragged-out moans that are the single hottest thing he’s ever heard. but he needs more, needs to get rid of the little voice in his head to fuck you hard and stupid.

he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in, and the erotic whine you let out is just too good to his ears.

so he does it again, again, again. he fucks you to the point a different part of him takes over, ruthlessly seeking the pleasure and pain that gets him off like nothing else. he likes it fast, hard, and deep, and by the looks of it, you do too.

you’re clinging onto him with every thrust, every kiss, every moan, and he loves it.

mingyu moans, eyebrows knitted together as he’s hypnotized by the feeling of himself sheathed all the way inside you. “take it — take my fucking cock.”

“mhm. a little harder — please?” you beg, and if he wasn’t in love with you yet, he certainly is now. how on earth do you look as gorgeous as you do whilst half fucked-out, still needing more?

naturally, he gives in to you, doing whatever you ask of him. he fucks you harder, his grip on your waist tightening with each thrust.

you come to one conclusion — you don’t think anyone’s ever fucked you this good.

his mouth latches onto your tits, sucking at your nipples, and you bring his head up to kiss him again. it’s sloppy, and his movements begin to slow a little, your wetness dripping down his cock. “god, you’re fucking perfect.”

“want more, gyu. i want you to cum in me.”

“you—” he stutters out, “you want it?”

nodding at him, you even push yourself against him, his cock sinking just a little deeper into you.

so he fucks you as hard as he can until he feels himself hitting that blissful climax, continuing to roll his hips and stuff you as full of him as possible. then he sits up with a thin layer of cold sweat on his back, and he pulls himself out as slowly as he entered you, watching drops of cum seep out of your hole.

“so much for professional.” you breathe out, after which you both chuckle, and he leans in to kiss you again, and you get on top of him, taking charge, and he shivers in anticipation.

the night becomes an increasing blur with every kiss, every touch, every thrust — it’s hard to say what time it is or how many times you’ve gone at it when you finally let yourself sink into a deep sleep.

when you wake up beside him in the morning, you watch his sleeping form, your heart flutters.

it’s bizarre how he’s made you feel a kind of love you didn’t even know existed before. a feeling of great complexity and intensity that’s settled deep into your gut whenever he’s near.

as if he’s become a part of you that you can’t let go.

checking your phone, you know it’s time to get up, since you’ve got an important agenda today. yet when you try to silently slip away from his bed, you feel a warm hand on yours.

“don’t go.” he pleads, his voice lower and raspier than usual from sleeping. there’s a certain desperation in his now open eyes, and it affects you.

“i have to. appointments i can’t cancel, you know what that’s like—”

but he’s not talking about your day.

“i’m afraid of people leaving me,” he suddenly admits with a shaky tone, “and i like what we have. i like you. i guess i’m scared that… this was just a one-time thing, ‘cause it wasn’t for me. i don’t want to go back to what we were before all of this.”

processing his words, you nod, touching his cheek, reassuring him. “it wasn’t a one-time thing for me, either. you have me, i promise.”

“okay.” he gently smiles at you, his fingers caressing yours, and you lean in to press a kiss onto his lips, which he immediately reciprocates.

you give him a quick goodbye after putting your clothes on, and he’s left smiling to himself in bed while you walk out of his apartment with the same expression.

but you should know by now that all good things come to an end — one way or another.

ix. WHO ARE YOU, REALLY?

the two weeks since your first time sleeping together have been nothing but excitingly ignorant bliss. in between his meetings and family commitments and your meetings regarding your father’s business relations, you’ve been meeting eachother in the middle at every opportunity, the investigation of your father’s death fading into the background bit by bit, getting lowered on your list of priorities.

none of your friends are aware of your relationship — since it’s a secret, and neither of you have really labelled it yet — as far as you know, anyway.

being with him is comfortable to you, and surprisingly enough, he’s the first person who’s made you feel like you could breathe properly after the chaos that your father’s death caused.

“do you really have to go out at this hour?”

“yeah, unfortunately.” he presses a kiss to your lips before pulling his shirt on while you’re still naked on his bed. “i’ll be back as soon as i can, but you don’t have to wait for me, okay? it’s probably gonna take a while.”

with a sigh, you nod, pouting a little. “okay. i’ll probably go take a shower and head home after.”

he kisses the top of your head this time, and it all feels awfully domestic.

but it’s a good feeling.

mingyu takes in the sight of your bare face and body covered in nothing but his sheets, and he feels like things were meant to be like this. like you two were always indirectly tied together, and now this is your reality.

“you’re allowed to stay as long as you want. i’ll call you later, baby, yeah?” he hums against your lips, and you nod, wanting nothing more than to pull his shirt off and drag him back into bed with you.

“mhm. you should go, or you’ll be late.”

he chuckles, his mouth grazing the top of your hand before he exits the room, slinging his bag over his shoulder and leaving you alone in his apartment.

after taking a short nap, you decide to get up and take a quick shower.

this might be the first time you’re completely on your own in his place — so you feel like checking out what he’s got lying around here.

it’s not because you don’t trust him, truly. you just like to snoop around a little, out of curiosity.

you peek into his drawers, his closet, his personal things, except for what he’s got kept under lock and key.

what intrigues you are the clear scratches on the floor by the cupboard. everything in his apartment is perfectly clean and clearly well taken care of, so this makes you raise a brow.

you figure the scratches were made by moving the cupboard to the side, so you do the same thing, trying to see if there’s a particular reason for it.

it’s hard to contain a scoff once you lay your eyes on what is apparently hiding behind it.

a safe hidden behind a cupboard. seriously? did he take inspiration from your father’s office or something? this is starting to get a bit weird.

the safe seems to require a code with six digits to be unlocked, and since the system and mechanics seem on the older side, you doubt it would send off any signals if someone tried out a wrong code.

biting your lip, you give in to your curiosity, and try out a few codes.

a popular choice for codes are always birthdays, often loved ones, and since mingyu is a complete softie in that regard, you figure it might be worth trying out.

you remember his father’s birthday from the tombstone at the graveyard where your father was buried as well. his mother celebrated her birthday last week, so that’s easy.

unfortunately, neither of the codes work.

fuck, what was his sister’s birthday again? you don’t remember. then an idea pops up in your head – she probably made a birthday post on social media at some point. you search the username and scan her profile, and within a minute, you’ve found it.

with your phone in hand, eyes going from the screen to the rotating dials, you enter the code, and the sound of a clicking lock causes your heartbeat to quicken.

it worked.

throwing your phone onto the bed, you open the safe, several items catching your eye.

there’s quite some things in there considering it’s such a small space. some stacks of money, a few vials with clear liquids in them, a gun, a passport with his photo but a different name — what the fuck is this? his backup plan to start a new life in case he needs it? that’s close to paranoid, especially for a guy who seemingly has no enemies.

behind the piles of dollar bills, you find a few old-fashioned cassette recorders stacked up, each of them numbered from one to ten.

as your curiosity gets the better of you once more, you take the recorders out of the safe and put them on the floor, where you sit down to listen to whatever’s on them.

you click the button at the back of the device, noise beginning to crack through the small speaker.

“i know recording myself confessing to something as grave as this could be my downfall, but… it’s something i need to get off my chest. i need to.” your hear him inhale sharply. “i’m setting a plan in motion that will lead to someone’s death. it’s not something i’m proud of, but he’s threatening my family. i don’t know what else to do.”

your eyes widen as you listen to the rest of the tape. he’s talking about killing your father, using a poison to take him out. once it’s finished, you look for the second tape with shaky fingers.

“getting it done shouldn’t be hard. the real issue is having an alibi, and if necessary, i need someone to put the blame on. the death of someone as important as him will draw attention, so should they assume he didn’t die of natural causes, they’re gonna want to convict someone. i can only think of one person who fits the criteria — his daughter.”

it’s like the confirmation you’ve been waiting for. this is what he’s been hiding all this time. of course he didn’t want to help you without an ulterior motive.

your heart breaks the moment he says it. just how much of a fool have you been?

“we’ve always hated eachother. looking back, i’m not sure how it started, but it did. she’s the only one who could have a solid motive. i don’t want to frame her, or anyone for that matter, but if the police decide it’s not an accident, i’ll have no other choice. maybe her lawyer can find a way around it.”

tape three.

“the plan is to pretend i have a lead on the killer when i’m actually planting fake evidence to make her seem like the culprit. i talked to her in the graveyard today, but she completely lashed out at me. it’s hard to tell who she hates more — me, her father, or herself. though i didn't know her hatred for me ran this deep, nor that she was this lonely. i kind of feel for her.”

tape four.

“she just agreed to be my date to the gala next week, though she's certainly not thrilled about it. understandably so, i guess. she's quite intimidating when she’s mad. maybe i should take notes, seeing how she always stands so firmly on business.”

tape five.

“i didn’t think she’d go as far as to go through my room. she’s more determined than i gave her credit for. god, i could barely keep it together when she said whoever killed her father did her a favor. it’s maybe the only good thing about this whole mess. i wanted to scream, tell her that it was me who did her that favor.”

tape six.

“leave it to her to interrupt a stripper’s lap dance and take me with her instead. the man taking money out of her father’s account was hired by me — i needed to subtly prove to her that it couldn’t have been me, ‘cause i was at the other side of the city when it happened. i was curious to see if she’d take the bait, and she did. she mentioned something about wanting someone who would let her be… uninhibited. it scared and surprised me; mostly because i want the exact same.”

tape seven.

“we broke into her father’s office together. it was… thrilling. exciting. she keeps surprising me with how daring she is. somewhere underneath that hard surface hides someone who’s aching for adventure, i think. maybe we’re more similar than i thought. and she’s so clever, i just—i like her. like, platonically, of course. we work well together. i should probably be more careful, try not to get too close. who knows what that might lead to.”

tape eight.

“i kissed her. i fucking kissed her. well, she kissed me first, but… i kept it going. not just a little peck, no, a full-on makeout session. it was… the type of kiss they talk about in the romance novels. i’ve never felt that big of a need to kiss someone before. and she’s so gorgeous, too. i wonder if she’s thinking about it as much as i am right now.”

tape nine.

“wonwoo says i have feelings for her, in a way. i… i feel like there’s no going back if i acknowledge it. but there's something about her, it's like... i'm not sure. like she and i are on the same wavelength. we’re so different yet so similar.”

tape ten.

“the police are tightening their grip. they wanna name the culprit, and fast. i’ve thought of turning myself in, but i’ll ruin the family name if i do that. my mom and sister will be cast out if that happens. and then there’s… her. god, she’s become so special to me. i can’t go through with it — i can’t. the idea of losing her makes me feel suffocated. fuck, i don’t know what to do.”

and just like that, you close your eyes for a moment.

everything falls into place.

putting the final tape to the side, your cheeks are wet from the tears that have been silently rolling down your cheeks ever since you hit the first play button.

he doesn’t really like you — of course he doesn’t. he’s just using you for his own gain, to cover up his crime.

it’s then that the heavy sobs come out. you utterly fall apart, feeling weak and manipulated and alone.

terrifyingly alone, more than ever before.

but you force yourself to stop crying by telling yourself that you won’t allow him to use you anymore. you need to be steps ahead of him now that he’s not aware of you knowing this information, so you wipe your tears away and play all the tapes again, but this time with your phone making recordings of each one of them.

overcome by your emotions, you feel ready to throw up.

whatever you’re about to do, it’ll probably come back to bite you in the ass later, but you don’t care. not anymore. everything’s already gone to hell anyways.

when mingyu arrives at his apartment a few hours later, it’s empty. he frowns when noticing that your clothes and things you had lying around are all gone, but shrugs it off, believing you probably had a good reason for taking them back home.

but when he calls you the next day, you don’t pick up. you don’t answer any of his texts. your staff by the gate tells him that no visitors are allowed into the driveway, meaning he can’t even get to your front door anymore.

something’s happened. he just doesn’t know what.

long after he’s had his dinner, the rain comes pouring down from the dark clouds in the sky, thunder rumbling in the distance as you make your way to the front door of mingyu’s apartment.

he instantly notices something is very wrong once he lays eyes on you. you look like you’ve just gone through hell and back.

you let yourself in before he can say anything, so he closes the door behind you, confusion painted across his face. “i’ve been calling you — what’s going on? did something happen?”

oh, the question immediately pisses you off even more than you already are. this is about to be fun. “well, you’d know.” you grumble.

“know what?”

“that you killed my fucking father.”

the words strike like lightning. you finding out about the truth certainly wasn’t part of the plan, and since you seem so convinced, he doesn’t have much faith in trying to convince you of his innocence.

when his surprised expression fades, you finally see the truth written all over his face. his jaw is clenched tight, lips pressed together into a thin line, and he suddenly looks very guilty. “how… how did you find out?”

“the tapes. who the fuck records their own confession to murder? were you trying to get me to find out?” you rhetorically ask, eyes blazing fire.

mingyu huffs to himself. he knew he shouldn’t have kept those tapes — fuck.

“look, i—” he swallows, attempting to mend the situation, but you don’t let him speak.

“no. you’re going to tell me exactly what you did and why you did it. you owe me that much.”

he flinches, closing his eyes for a moment, lowering his head, his way of showing he accepts his defeat. “your dad… i always thought he wanted me around because he liked me, but after all those years, that turned out to be a lie. i found out he was blackmailing my mom with evidence of my father’s wrongdoings before his passing — fraud, embezzlement, all of that. we’re talking millions of dollars here. the damage it would’ve done to my family if that ever came out… it’s something i had to prevent. hell, i wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one behind my dad’s car accident. so i did what i thought was necessary.”

you can only scoff. “of course. how noble of you.”

“i’m sorry.” he tells you, but it’s a lie. your father was a despicable man, loved by no one. not really, anyway.

“if you’re going to lie to me, at least do it well.” you scold him, turning away from him for a moment, looking at the rain outside through the large windows of his apartment. “how did you kill him? i wanna hear you say it.”

“can’t we talk about—”

interrupting him, you turn around, the pistol from his safe in your hand, and it’s pointed at him. he anxiously awaits your next move.

“don’t make me ask again. i don’t particularly feel like repeating myself.”

he shudders at the view of the gun pointed at him, but does what you tell him to. “i poisoned him. he had no idea, didn’t suspect me at all. i told him to go home, so he’d die there.”

“where i would be, too. perfect plan, huh?”

“the plan was to make it look like a death from natural causes. the poison would be out of his system by the time the authorities were to perform the autopsy on his body — but then they found him dangling from the ceiling instead. that wasn’t my doing, so i figured the poison got to him to the point he wanted a quicker way out. you were there, with a reasonable motive. i panicked and made a choice.”

inhaling sharply, your eye twitches. “you chose to frame me.”

“i was going to.”

“oh, give me a break. don’t start acting like you care about me, now.”

“except i do. it was different in the beginning — but then i just—i didn’t remember why i hated you. i couldn’t even fathom a possible reason to. i started liking being around you, and you felt it too. i know you did, you said it yourself.” he pleads, getting closer to you, not giving a damn that the barrel of the gun is touching his chest at this point.

a tear escapes your eye, but your anger is still there. “you know what the thing is, mingyu? i don’t even care that you killed him. hell, if you had come to me after our interrogations and confessed that it was you, i would’ve thanked you. what i care about is that you took advantage of me when i was vulnerable, and that you made me feel like i mattered to you when you were all just doing it for your own gain.”

it’s like you’ve ripped his heart out of his chest. he wishes he could make you understand that you’ve made him feel more alive than anyone he’s ever met, that you’ve grown to mean so much to him in a ridiculously short span of time. that he’d go to hell and back to protect you now.

“you matter to me. more than anyone else.”

all you can do is let out a sarcastic fit of laughter; you don’t trust a single word that comes out of his mouth. “i need you to tell me something. did you sleep with me because you actually wanted to or because you felt like you had to in order to manipulate me to get closer to you?”

he seems appalled at what you’re implying. “of course i wanted to. all i ended up wanting was you—”

“don’t you fucking lie to me!” you burst out angrily, at which he flinches, but his frustration brings him to confess his true feelings.

“it’s not a lie, because i’m in love with you!” he raises his voice in desperation, “i don’t care if you shoot me right here, right now. it won’t change how i feel about you.”

your heart shatters even more, because he sounds so genuine, yet it doesn’t make you feel the way it should.

the words should probably bring some kind of twisted comfort, but they feel like a gut punch instead. you grab your chest to stop yourself from hyperventilating. “at least i was right at the beginning. the golden boy is a fucking murderer. you’ve played your part well, i gotta admit.”

he watches you breathily laugh and cry at him, and all he can do is stare back at you with teary eyes and a guilty face.

“please don’t say that.”

“why? does it hurt, hearing the truth?”

“i swear to you—”

you shut him up by pushing him backwards with the pistol against his chest. “you know, when you bothered me after the funeral, when i had my breakdown, i wanted nothing more than to cave in your skull with a rock. looking back, i should’ve just done it. would’ve spared me this whole mess.”

surprisingly enough, you simply put the pistol back in your jacket pocket, but mingyu is just as if not more afraid of you. your gaze is the harshest, coldest, meanest he’s ever seen it. all you do is look at him and he crumbles.

and yet he still wants you. he knows you hate him to the bone, you detest every part of him, and he still. wants. you.

and he intends to show you that, because he’s willing to throw every last shred of pride and dignity he has let out the window if it means you’ll show him you want him even the smallest bit. “i’ll prove it to you. if you ask me to turn myself in, i’ll turn myself in. i’ll do it, for you.”

god, he seems so genuine in it, too.

your breaths are ragged, and you feel like you need to get literally anywhere else, out of the suffocation that is this room with him in it. you barely even noticed he’d taken a hold of your hand until now.

“i can’t do this. just—just let me leave.”

he does.

the moment the door slams shut behind you, he has to grab the nearest object to hold himself up, leaving him wondering what the hell just happened.

x. WHEN IS A MONSTER NOT A MONSTER?

the following days are spent anxiously pacing in his apartment. what is he supposed to do? what should he say to you? what should he tell the press, that he’s innocent? guilty? what should he tell his family? that he killed a man to protect them and their reputation? would they even look him in the eye if he confessed?

he waits and waits and waits for his arrest to come, for the police to barge into his home and take him away to a cold, dark prison cell — yet the day never comes.

personally, he wonders if you’re waiting it out to make you feel as shitty as you’ve probably been feeling since the day you discovered his true colors.

nearly a week after the fight between you, he decides he can’t take it anymore. he needs to see you.

you doubt you’ve ever felt as miserable as you’ve felt these past days. it’s like you’re torn between hating mingyu for taking advantage of you and hating yourself for being stupid enough to fall for it. to fall for him.

because no matter how much you want to deny it, you did.

something you desperately needed was a distraction, which is why you ended up accepting wonwoo’s invitation to the event his father is hosting tonight at his estate just outside the city. with your little black dress on and hair perfectly styled, you down a glass of champagne next to wonwoo, who looks a bit concerned. “everything okay?”

the noise of chatter and soft music in the background only overwhelms you more. “yeah. i just… haven’t had alcohol in a while.” you mutter a bullshit excuse, not really caring whether you sound believable or not.

“i get it if you don’t feel like being here right now, with everything that happened recently. i can take you home if you want.”

“and miss out on your father’s celebration?”

“there will always be another one.” wonwoo shrugs, looking at you like nothing else in the room matters. he has a little smile playing on his lips that’s far too gentle — you almost feel undeserving of a gaze that loving.

but you don’t hold eye contact with him for long, because the source of all your current problems suddenly walks into the room — and he looks good. criminally good.

the red suit with its low neckline draws even more attention to him than usual, along with several expensive pieces of jewelry adorning his wrists and fingers.

“he’s here? that’s strange. he said he wasn’t coming.” wonwoo mumbles, and you do your best to keep your composure and hide the sudden anxiety that blooms in your chest.

“shame. the party was just getting good.” you scoff to yourself, replacing your empty champagne glass with a full one.

it’s then that mingyu’s eyes find yours, and even while politely saying hello to the elders greeting him, he keeps sneaking a peek your way, as if to try to get away from the people surrounding him to get to you.

oh, fuck no. you’re not in the mood to talk to him right now.

“i’m just gonna go and use the restroom, okay? i’ll be right back.” you say to wonwoo, hoping to find yourself a spot in the shadows where you can properly get some air.

you hardly catch his response as your legs are already moving on their own, as far away from the man in red as possible.

passing through a quiet hallway, you find yourself finally alone at the bottom of a staircase, and with no one else around, you sit down on the first few steps, a sigh escaping your mouth.

“did my appearance surprise you?”

as you recognize his voice, your blood runs cold.

looking behind you, he’s standing at the top of the stairs, his hands in his pockets. he appears surprisingly relaxed, even if his fingers slightly tremble against the fabric of his trousers.

“you have some nerve showing up here.”

mingyu purses his lips. “why don’t you come up a couple steps?”

when you finally meet his gaze, his heart skips a beat. your brows are knitted together. “why would i do that?”

“because we’d be on the same level. equals.”

“is that what you want?”

“i think you already know the answer to that.”

biting your lip to yourself, you get up on your feet, heels clicking on the creaking wood with each step. once at his level, you look at him with hostility – he only shows intrigue.

“why haven’t you given me up yet? it’s been a week.”

“i have my reasons.” you shrug, the anger remaining in your features. “what? scared i’ll ruin your reputation?”

his tone suddenly changes into something more desperate, emotional. “i just want to know what you’re gonna do. if you wanna turn me over to the police, fine. but do something, please—”

“you’re not in a position to be making demands.”

“i’m not demanding, i’m asking.”

“go fuck yourself, mingyu.” you snap at him, looking around you before lowering your voice. “what did you think was going to happen when you came here tonight? that i would just let you in on everything? the last thing i owe you is an explanation.”

as the tension continues to rise between you, the argument causes you to step closer to eachother.

his chest heaves out of frustration, because you make a more than valid point, but he still has his own interests at heart. “i know that.”

“so then why show up tonight? don’t bullshit me, i know you’re not here for wonwoo.”

“are you? what are you doing here?”

“what the hell is your problem?” scoffing at him, you intend to push him by his chest, but he grabs your wrists instead.

“you are my problem.” he breathes out angrily as if he were confessing his sins, his hands remaining on your skin. “everything fell apart because of you.”

“if you’re actually trying to pin this on me, i’ll hit you in your fucking jaw until it bleeds.”

he only pulls you closer. “and i’d let you. do you still not get it?”

his grip on your wrists falters, and he softly rubs over your skin with his finger, and you hate your body for reacting to it.

christ, you think to yourself, has he been standing this close to you this whole time?

the smell of his perfume plagues your senses, and a feeling you can’t quite place washes over you when you catch him looking at your lips, and you realize his one hand is slowly gliding past your waist.

are you really going to let yourself fall into his trap again?

“everything okay?”

the words aren’t uttered by you nor mingyu — wonwoo peers up at you from your former spot at the bottom of the stairs.

of course he’s been sensing that there was something going on between you the moment you showed up at the strip club, but this clearly confuses him, since you’re still supposed to hate one another.

fuck. how much of the conversation did he hear?

mingyu hesitantly releases his hands from your body, and you take a step backwards, both of you focusing on wonwoo. “yeah, i’m fine.”

as if to make the situation even worse, the fucking inspector that’s leading the investigation appears behind wonwoo, curiously looking at his two main suspects standing side by side.

the situation feels suffocating. wonwoo points at the older man, “he was looking for you. that’s why i came to see if you were here — i didn’t know you were, um — occupied.”

“i’m not occupied.” with the way you completely disregard mingyu’s existence, it’s almost as if he weren’t even here. you make your way down the steps, smoothening over the fabric of your dress and taking a deep breath to get a hold of yourself again.

the inspector glances at mingyu one last time before asking you if he can talk to you privately, which you agree to.

mere minutes later, you’re standing in a secluded room, far away from the rest of the crowd, arms crossed over your chest, a dim light flickering on the ceiling above you.

“i wanted to talk about the investigation.”

“talking to me off-record again? this isn’t a good look on you.” you sneer at the man, who puts up his hands before his chest.

“i know. but it’s for a good reason.” he defends himself, at which you frown. “i have a proposition for you.”

“which is?”

“i need your help catching the person who killed your father.”

pursing your lips together, you let out a bitter chuckle. “like i would know anything—”

“you were just speaking to him, actually.”

the weight of his words makes your eyes widen. this is the first time he’s expressing who he believes is the culprit, after all these weeks.

your breath hitches in your throat. “you think mingyu is guilty.”

the inspector nods at the conclusion you’ve drawn. “he’s smart, i’ll give him that. but not invincible.”

“what will you do? do you have evidence against him?”

“i have enough that makes me sure that it was him, but not enough to defeat him in court. he’s rich and uses that to his advantage.” he explains, sounding almost hopeful. “so that’s where you come in.”

“me?”

“what i need is evidence that even he can’t work around, no matter how many people in the system he chooses to bribe. you told me the nature of your relationship was sexual — i don’t need to know if that’s true or not. but i’ve noticed he seems fond of you these days. you can use that to get him caught. we can’t let him get away with it.”

his voice rings through your ears, sounding like a convincing whisper. biting down on your tongue, you clench your fists, the predicament you currently find yourself in making you wish the ground would just swallow you whole.

you subtly glance down at your phone for a moment.

the evidence is right there, on the phone in your hand. you’ve recorded all the tapes with your phone — the confession, murder weapon — it’s all the evidence needed. you could give it right now and everything would be over.

yet not a single word comes out of your mouth.

the inspector sighs, offering you a final sentiment. “be careful with him. people can be deceiving.”

and with that, he exits the room, leaving you alone with the voice in your head.

your next moves are crucial. you know what you’re about to do is risky, but it’ll be worth it. it has to be worth it.

once you’ve left the inside of the estate through the backdoor, the event continues for the evening while you ponder over the choice you’re about to make in the backseat of the cab.

shrugging off your coat as you enter your home, you still in your movements when your eyes find the stairs — the spot where the police had to cut down your father’s cold, dead body.

with your gaze remaining on the former crime scene, you press on mingyu’s number to call it.

he picks up faster than lightning, but you don’t allow him to speak.

“meet me in the city tomorrow. 10:30, outside your mother’s firm. don’t be late.”

you hang up right after.

fuck, you should really sell this place. the fact that your father’s wandered around here is more than enough reason.

that he died here as well isn’t great either, but that’s really a minor detail.

with your arms crossed, you scoff, a half-smile that’s almost smug sitting on your face. “if only your death had welcomed us sooner.”

the next morning, you lean your head against the wall of the building you’re meeting at, a cold wind blowing through your hair as you’re sunken deeply into thought.

it’s comfortably quiet, honestly. you’re fond of this type of weather, the white, grey-ish sky, the breeze in the air, some rain on occasion.

you glance at the watch on your wrist — why the fuck is mingyu still not here? what possible reason could he have to be late when this is what he was practically begging for?

just as you’re about to grab your phone from your pocket to call him, someone pulls you by your arm and drags you into the alley beside the building.

“what the fuck!?” you huff out, and then you finally get a good look at the person who grabbed you.

of course it’s him.

“i’m sorry.” mingyu breathes out, his usually neatly styled hair now messy, several strands hanging loose in front of his forehead, the stress visible in his features.

to be together like this feels messy yet weirdly intimate. a few strands of your hair are caught between your lips, and you feel his breath on your face, his hands on your body, even your hands find their way back to him.

as if it’s natural.

“what the hell are you thinking?!” you hiss at him, pushing his hands off you, backing yourself as far up against the wall as possible.

“someone was following me, i was — i thought you’d lured me here to turn me in.”

“you—” is all you can push out of your throat before a sigh leaves you. of course he’d think that. god, what a mess.

burying your face in your hands, it feels like you’re both on the verge of a complete breakdown. both lost, not sure where to go, not sure what’ll happen next.

you thought you’d found a sense of direction in eachother, but that fell apart like a house of cards hit by the wind.

naturally, it begins to rain right when you’re talking to him outside. sighing to yourself, you gesture for him to come with you to your car in the half-empty parking lot, which he wordlessly agrees with.

it’s pouring by the time you’re both seated, the heavy rain rolling down the glass windows of the car.

it’s completely silent between you as you sit beside one another, staring dead ahead at the street.

your voice is hoarse when you tell him your verdict on the matter.

“we’re gonna cover it up.”

mingyu turns his head to look at you in disbelief, but you don’t move a muscle. “… what?”

“i believe i’ve told you i don’t like to repeat myself.”

“no one in their right mind would do that. no one would help me cover it up.” he exhales, eyes moving rapidly as he tries to process what you’re proposing to him.

“no one in their right mind would commit murder, either, but that certainly didn’t stop you.”

well, you have a point there.

“just tell me one thing,” mingyu asks, hoping you’ll look at him, “why? why do this for me?”

he could cry the moment you do meet his eyes. it’s like he sees a different version of himself staring back at him. “because you did the right thing. i would’ve done the same. well, except for your little affair with me.”

with his heart beating against his chest, he gently touches your hand. “everything i told you was true. it may not have been real in the beginning, and i’m sorry for pretending back then, but it’s real now. i swear that to you.”

you bite your lip. “give me one good reason why i should believe you.”

mingyu can taste his tears at this point. he needs you to believe him, he needs you — and that is terrifying but addictive. “the tapes. you can have them if you want.”

“i don’t need them. they hold no value to me.” you already made copies of them anyway.

“then what can i give you to prove myself?”

“nothing.” you immediately cut him off, eyes blazing fire, but even mingyu can see you do share that sadness that he does, mourning the loss of your connection. “from now on, we avoid contact over the phone as much as possible. you’ll destroy the tapes, the poison — get rid of all of it. we’ll work together until we’ve covered it up, and after that, it’ll be like whatever we had never existed. we’ll be nothing more than strangers to one another.”

“how on earth would we go back to strangers after what we did?”

“by never talking to eachother again.” you respond, swallowing the rising lump in your throat, fingers twitching from feeling suffocated. “get out. you can come over to my place tomorrow, and we’ll… figure out how to handle everything.”

mingyu looks at you, and he knows you won’t let him in again, certainly not now. so he nods.

he thinks of what to say, yet nothing comes out.

so he leaves you in your car without saying another word, walking away with nothing but his mistakes on his mind.

xi. I HATE YOU LIKE MY OWN REFLECTION

“so, what do we do now?”

“our best shot is to try to frame someone else, then take them out of prison after the conviction and pay ‘em good money for it.”

mingyu cocks a brow at your choice. “so you wanna go and do the exact same thing i wanted to do?”

you can’t help but glare at him. “yes, just without the manipulation. don’t think for a second i’ve forgiven you, or that i will in the nearby future, because i can assure you that won’t happen.”

well, so much for trying to get into your good graces again. “noted. so, how do we, um… find a suitable victim? someone who won’t rat us out.”

“my contact in the police force has sent me a list of all the other suspects. we pick someone, threaten to kill them if they don’t cooperate. easy.”

mingyu finds your lack of filter both intriguing and scary, like a switch was flipped and you’re suddenly ready to undertake even more violent measures than him. but then again, he was hiding quite some things too. “okay.”

it’s two days later when you’re holding a now former member of the housekeeping hostage in your spacious private parking garage.

“you can’t make me do this! this is insane!” he cries out, and you roll your eyes, holding the gun in your hand as easily as you’d carry a bottle of water.

you simply shrug. “it’s not impossible.”

“i’ll lose everything!”

“probably. but you’ll also gain a lot of money, enough to get you a comfortable life elsewhere in the world.”

“no, no, i’m not doing this. you can’t make me!”

mingyu looks to you for permission, you grant it with a nod, and he takes your gun to hit the guy in the face with it. you sink down to bend your knees, lowering to your victim’s level.

“i don’t think you get it. either you agree to do this, or you’re not making it out of these walls alive. trust me, if i have to shoot you, i will.” you sternly tell him, attitude changing from casual to threatening.

your partner in crime, who’s still holding the gun, is beyond impressed. he briefly thinks it over — has this part of you always been hiding underneath the surface?

“or maybe it’s your family i should start with? i’ll pick it apart, one by one.” you suggest, feigning innocence in your voice.

it’s then that the man is finally forced to accept your offer, after which you smile triumphantly and tell him he can go home like nothing happened. mingyu watches the change in your behavior, leaving him wondering how the hell you’re the same person he’s come to know over the past months.

but it hardly changes his now deeply-rooted affection for you.

a few days later, you’ve successfully orchestrated your plan and set it in motion, with the man from housekeeping supposedly coming forward with his confession tomorrow.

it’s late at night when mingyu’s still over at your house, and he asks if he can open the bottle of vodka standing on the counter.

“sure. whatever.” you mutter, the stand-offish demeanor you used to hold up around him before getting to know him having returned.

he doesn’t like it. no, scratch that — he can’t stand it.

so he pours you both a shot. “i’ve been thinking about something.”

“well, that must’ve been exhausting for you.”

hilarious. really. he chooses to ignore your sarcasm for now. “in the car, you said i did the right thing. that you would’ve done the same.”

“and?”

“do you really not… hate me for killing him? at all?”

“no.”

“you hate me for… lying to you about it.”

“no.”

his brows knit together. “so…”

“again, don’t take this as a compliment, but i really thought you were smarter than this.”

“i’m just… confused on your stance on the whole thing. that’s all.”

taking a breath, a bitter chuckle leaves your mouth. “i hate it when people make fun of me, like — that’s the worst thing you could do to me. and you tried to get to know me, work with me, pretended to care for me, all while secretly knowing that it wasn’t genuine and you were going to put me in prison. and after i found out, it felt like you were just ridiculing me, for… i don’t know. giving in to you so easily. for being desperate to have at least one person actually care about me the way i thought you did.”

he processes your words with the heavy burden of guilt weighing on his shoulders, while you take another shot of alcohol.

well, he fucked up. miserably.

“when i created the plan to frame you, i… almost held a grudge towards you, like you did to me, for a reason i couldn’t even think of. i was going to be putting someone i hated in prison. a sacrifice i was willing to make for the people i loved. but you completely blew me away. as time progressed, i… couldn’t fathom i used to hate you, or even disliked you. even if you don’t accept my apology, i need you to know that i never… never made fun of you. and i’m sorry for hurting you in the way that i did.”

his heartfelt sentiment gets to you, and you hate it.

“even if i did accept your apology, what then? we’ll just move on with our lives as if this whole thing never happened either way.”

now that you’ve unintentionally given him a sense of hope, he downs another shot of vodka to give himself courage. “it doesn’t have to be like that.”

“what?”

“i still want you.” he breathes out, mentally saying fuck it and deciding to finally be completely honest with you.

the words seem to have caught you off-guard, after which you scoff at him once you realize what he’s saying. “you’re not serious.”

“i am,” he replies without hesitation, following you in your tracks when you stand up, “and you know what i think? you still like me, too.”

“no i don’t.”

now that you’ve turned around to him, you realize how stupid of a move it was to do so. with every step he takes forward, you go back, but there’s only so much room before you hit the wall. “you’re not being very convincing.”

“gyu—”

“i like it when you call me that.”

at a loss for words, you look behind you to find you’re nearly out of space. “i don’t like you.”

“and here i thought we were both being honest with eachother.”

god, all he does is look at you and you feel willing to let him touch you again. he made you feel so good — you liked him so much.

mingyu feels it. he sees you fighting with yourself in your head, so he figures all you need is just a little push to get you back where he had you, to be able to kiss you and hold you and call you his.

with his left hand, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and within a second, he’s pushed his mouth against yours.

fuck, it’s been only two long weeks since he last kissed you, but it felt like forever. this feeling, his touch — you doubt you’d ever be able to feel that with anyone else.

but something in you is still fighting back.

you muster the will to push mingyu away, and he licks his lips from the gloss on yours. both of you panting heavily, you shake your head. “no. we’re not doing this.”

“what? something we both want?” he breathes out, chest heaving up and down.

“something we shouldn’t.”

“why not?”

“because i’d never forgive myself for giving in to the guy who was gonna frame me for murder.”

he merely shrugs, downplaying the situation for his selfish interests. “we hated each other back then. you’d have done it too, you said it yourself.”

his words are true — but it still hurts.

“you’re a liar.” you say to him, and he knows you’re only saying it for one reason — to convince yourself to not give in to what you really want.

“yeah. and so are you.”

that is what momentarily causes your brain to shut down. “what?”

his hand cups your jaw. you can feel his breath on your bare skin, his gaze on your body, shamelessly checking you out before he meets your eyes again. “what we had was real. you make everyone else in my life seem like… nothing.”

“oh, so i’m special, huh? or are you just trying to get back into my good graces so i don’t rat you out?”

his eyes keep lingering on the skin of your cheeks, your neck, exposed collarbones, and he doesn’t even look you in the eye while answering. “you can do whatever you want. i’ll still want you once i’ve gotten out of prison.”

god. he’s really that into you?

“gyu…” you mutter, almost pouting, and he holds your face, nodding as if he understands.

“i know, i know—” his breathing is unsteady as he confesses every dirty little sin on his conscience, “i like being a little selfish, y’know? even when one of my friends mentioned something about liking you, i didn’t tell you, ‘cause i wanted you.”

you’ve got a feeling who he’s talking about. “so what’d you say to him?”

“i said you had something going on with someone else, which wasn’t exactly a lie, since you were on top of me that same night.” he barely allows himself to finish the sentence before kissing you again, putting all his vigor into it, and you decide to indulge both him and yourself this once.

he pushes you up against the wall, and you shove him away again, holding onto the cupboard beside you when you both catch your breath.

“what if i like him better than you?”

“you wouldn’t.”

“why? ‘cause you’re so likeable?”

“because he’d never accept you for who you really are, and you’d find him boring,” he tells you as a possessive streak overcomes him, “just like no other girl would ever want me and i only want you.”

“so i should let you have me because no one else will. what a compelling argument.”

“no. because you want me.” fucking hell, he’s pretty sure his sex drive has never been this high before. “so have me, baby. please — i’m all yours.” he rasps, pressing a kiss so chaste to your lips, they barely touch. his hands burn on your skin.

“maybe i will.” you mumble, which elicits the smallest smirk from him.

he rubs up against you. “you make me insane.”

“pretty sure you already were.” is the last thing you say before kissing him, finally giving in to the feelings you still hold for him.

the sudden motion takes him by surprise, but he regains his composure to kiss you back within seconds. you make him feel so sickeningly good, he practically worships the ground you walk on.

mingyu is always tactile, be it with his friends, family, or in this case — you. his hands are practically glued to your body, pulling you as close to him as possible.

and normally he likes to take his time when it comes to sex. but he’s just so hot right now that he needs some kind of friction, some kind of release. so he lifts you up to take you to your bedroom, where he wastes no time to plunge his fingers into you.

“fuck—gyu—”

this is all he wants. to hear you moan his name like that and watch you writhe underneath him while his cock throbs as he rubs it against the bed.

“you look so pretty like this.” he grins, curling his fingers to watch you squirm and feel you clench around him.

jesus, his pace is high. higher than any other time he’s done this before. the pressure in your stomach builds so fast that you’re almost overwhelmed by the feeling, at which you instinctively reach down to hold his wrist, but to no avail, because he keeps going.

“say you like me back and i’ll make you cum.”

even through the pleasure he’s giving you, you manage to pull your mean attitude back up. “are you that desperate?”

not only does he seem completely unaffected by the snark in your voice — he might even like it.

“so what if i am?” he shrugs, his fingers moving in and out of you while he kisses and sucks on the skin of your neck.

when he moves onto your jaw, he suddenly hits the right spot inside you, and your eyes roll back, a dragged-out moan escaping you.

“bet that feels good, hm?” he whispers, his fangs showing when he smiles slyly, “c’mon — say it. i’ll make you feel so good, baby.”

right after the words come out of his mouth, he threatens to take his fingers out, and you grab his wrist once more, this time to keep him as close as possible.

“fine — i like you.”

like a war general who just won his greatest battle, he’s beaming at your confession. “good. put your legs over my shoulders.”

well, he certainly is determined. he’s back in his previous position in no-time, now with your legs up, and you try to not clench your thighs around his head too much as his digits piston in and out of your hole.

your orgasm hits you within what feels like a minute, and mingyu keeps going even when your legs are shaking and trembling on his shoulders.

the drag of his cock inside you is heavenly. he’s a big man, and you always need to adjust yourself to him, but fuck is it good.

you always like the slower strokes best, he’s learned. slow and deep, to make you feel every inch of him, and he can bury himself in you to the hilt every single time.

“god, you’re always so tight.” he has to suck through gritted teeth to not completely lose it, ‘cause you’re clenching down on him so much that it almost hurts.

“that’s ‘cause you don’t fuck me enough.”

“we should fix that, then.” he responds, sliding his cock in and out of the pooling wetness between your legs, and as the minutes go by, you continue to find yourself in his arms, your body plastered on his.

it’s the ringing of your phone from the nightstand that pulls you out of the erotic haze.

mingyu turns his head to the side, the dark strands of hair hanging beside his head as he’s still hovering above you.

his chest still heaves when he picks up the device to show you the caller id. “you never did tell me what he wanted to talk to you about.”

all you can do is chuckle — a sound that comes across as if you know more than he does. “he’s onto you. thinks you’re guilty. not far from the truth, is he?”

throwing your phone to the other side of the bed, he pushes himself a little deeper into you, loving the way you have to bite your lip to suppress a whimper. “and he wanted you to give him evidence, i bet.”

“he did.”

“did you?”

“since you still have the freedom to fuck me — take a wild guess.”

this time it’s him who lets out an arrogant laugh. “i knew you liked me too much.”

“i could still do it, y’know.”

“oh, i know you could.” he bites his lower lip before kissing you so vigorously again — as if you’re the air he breathes.

xii. ROUGH HEWN BY UNFORTUNATE EVENTS, AND GIVEN BREATH BY NECESSITY

with the noise of the fireplace crackling, you stand by the window of your mansion’s spacious living room, staring outside as you’re anxiously rubbing your fingers over your collarbone.

the man you and mingyu forced to act like he was guilty of murdering your father has supposedly confessed yesterday morning, and yet you’ve still heard nothing. which is strange.

extremely strange.

“they could still be interrogating him.” mingyu tries to ease both your and his own nerves, but you shake your head, your back still facing him.

“something’s wrong. if it were convincing enough, i would’ve heard something. fuck.”

he gets up from the soft couch to wrap his arms around you from behind. “we just gotta be a little more patient. the guy knows what’s at stake should he mess it up.”

letting out a sigh, you nod. “yeah, i guess you’re right.”

just when he’s pressed a kiss on the top of your head, the doorbell rings — whoever that may be.

mingyu remains in his spot by the window while you go ahead to check who’s visiting you. your breath is almost stolen completely from you once you see who it is.

“coming to visit me at this hour?”

the inspector gives you a fake smile in return. “it’s important.”

so you let him in, keeping up the nonchalance in your attitude. mingyu raises a brow at the older man walking into the room, and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“i had someone coming into the station yesterday — one of your father’s former staff. he confessed to the murder.” the inspector begins. “unfortunately for him, i said i’d already figured out who the culprit was, and so i sent him back home.”

“someone confessed and you didn’t think about telling us?” mingyu questions angrily, and you really have to force yourself not to show how impressed you are with his acting skills.

the other man in the room is less impressed. “why would i tell you something you’re already aware of? you orchestrated it.”

oh, shit.

as your eyes widen, it’s quiet for a moment.

“i really hope you have actual proof to back this accusation.” mingyu sneers, clearly hostile towards the man while you silently take a few steps back, slowly hiding yourself more in the shadows by the walls.

“traces of poison were found in the reports of the autopsy. it was disregarded at first because of the small amount, but i eventually began to consider it evidence when i discovered you recently purchased that exact formula from a dealer who’s been on our radar for a while.”

the hairs on your neck suddenly stand upright. is this it? is the person you’ve grown so attached to actually going to get arrested?

“thing is, if i were to arrest you, you’d probably be let go. i know you both have contacts in the police force as well as the justice system, i almost caught someone messing with the autopsy results — but despite that, i know the truth.” the man nods to himself. “and that is, mr. kim, that the only charge against you is attempted murder.”

mingyu seems confused. “attempted?”

“the poison didn’t kill him. you’re guilty of something, definitely, but you’re no murderer.” the inspector’s gaze suddenly shifts from your partner to you, a deep frown setting into your forehead. “the only player in this game that wasn’t making any sense to me was you.”

“me?”

“you know, in my many years in this line of work, i’ve found it a rarity to have a suspect possessing such an… inscrutible expectant stillness. the gears in your head are constantly turning, but no one’s really sure what it is that goes up in there. you’re an enigma.” he says to you, and you listen to him with a raised brow.

as you remain silent, he continues. “at the event a few weeks ago, when i spoke with you, i came to you and told you i suspected him to be the culprit — the man you’ve hated from day one. the opportunity to make him go away was practically given to you, yet you did nothing with it.”

scoffing at him in disbelief, you tilt your head. “that’s all you have against me? baseless speculation?”

“not exactly baseless. see, the autopsy report showed one more thing — he was choked before the hanging. your father was unconscious before you put that rope around his neck.”

it’s so quiet, you’re pretty sure the two men in the room are able to hear your heartbeat at this point.

mingyu turns to look at you with a puzzled expression, and you finally decide to drop the façade you’ve upheld for so long.

“oh, so what?” you shrug, finding the accusation bothersome at best.

the sudden change in demeanor catches mingyu completely off-guard. he can’t fully comprehend what’s going on here. “you—you killed him?”

you press your lips together. “whatever you used on him wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was enough to make him violent. he came home that night just—fucking losing it. stumbling over everything, his eyes were all red, and he yelled at me because he thought i was the one who poisoned him. ‘cause naturally, he’d never suspect you. my father was one to hit me on the cheek whenever he was really angry with me, but he’d never gone further than that. the poison must’ve worked him up so much that he lost rational thinking. so he began to accuse me of trying to kill him, after which he tried to choke me, but i managed to throw him off, and he passed out. and i figured it’d been enough of his torture, so… i hung him in the stairwell to make it seem like a suicide.”

the inspector nods knowingly. “you murdered him in cold blood.”

you’re quick to respond with your defense, though you don’t really care anymore. “did you not hear the part where he tried to kill me?”

mingyu looks like a kicked puppy when he processes your confession. “so you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

the words elicit a scoff. “that’s real bold, coming from you.”

“but you—you agreed to help me figure out who your father’s killer was. why would you do that if you did it?”

“at first i didn’t, as you know, but you were just so fucking persistent. so i figured i could try to divert your attention from me. i was going to convince you that it was a suicide. then i hear the tapes, you admitting that you poisoned him, and everything made sense. but hey, at least i wasn’t trying to frame you.”

the jab directed at him makes him feel guilty again. “so we both did it.”

“in a way. though i’d argue it was somewhat self-defense. i mean, he came onto me, tried to kill me—”

“you made a mistake and you know it.” the inspector interrupts, making you roll your eyes as he scolds you. “you should’ve called the police. but you didn’t, you just decided to hang him instead!”

“he deserved it!” you retort, displaying the clear hatred you’ve always felt towards anyone who tried to defend the man who raised you. “i don’t care what you think. and you said it yourself — i have everyone in the justice system on my payroll, if necessary. threatening to kill a family member or two also works like a charm.”

it’s silent for a few seconds after you’ve revealed this side of your true nature, and the man just stares you in the eye before grabbing a device from his backpocket.

when he clicks on the button, you already know what it is.

he recorded the whole conversation, and you already know he can’t be bribed, so this is a real problem — because it’s the one piece of evidence needed that will destroy you both.

“you do realize how stupid it was to come here alone, right?” you ask rhetorically.

“what, will you kill me too?” he asks, and when both you and mingyu deadpan a stare at him, he knows the answer.

he’s not getting out of this room alive unless he forfeits the recording.

when you and your partner in crime exchange a glance, the inspector attempts to make a run for it, only to be tackled by mingyu once he’s reached the door.

one last sacrifice.

the sound of a blade piercing through skin makes you jump, your fingers twitching.

blood begins to trickle down his body, after which mingyu pulls out the knife and pushes it in once more, higher up in the chest this time.

“oh, jesus—fuck!” you gasp to yourself when you feel the bloodsplatters hitting your face and neck, and mingyu rips the blade from the inspector’s body, letting it fall onto the carpeted floor.

you both stare at the freshly created crime scene, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, mostly just annoyed at having another crime on your hands.

“well, that is unfortunate.” mingyu sighs, after which you press your lips together, looking up at him.

“understatement of the year. did you have to stab him that quick?”

“sweetheart, he would’ve locked us both away if i didn’t.”

“i guess so.” locking the front door to ensure no one can enter, you cross your arms. “so. are we burning, burying or dumping him in a lake?”

mingyu stares at the body on the floor before locking eyes with you, and it’s like making a silent deal — that you’re in this mess together, and only together can you come out of it, as bloody and violent that road may turn out to be.

well, at the end of the day, you suppose your father was right about one little thing.

you and kim mingyu are, indeed, good together. just not in the exact way he imagined.

after all, love can exist even in the murderous heart.

thanks for reading! let me know if you enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(I adore fics where Johnny’s family loves Ghost from day one, but, you know…angst)

Soap and Ghost had been together for almost two years. They never name the relationship, really, but it's serious and they both know it.

Thing is, Johnny's seen Ghost's face a total of four times, counting Las Almas.

Well, he sees parts of it regularly, more than others. Ghost will either roll the balaclava up when they're reading together in bed or when they're eating. Sometimes, when Soap wants to go out and Ghost indulges him, he goes in public in just either a face mask or a gaiter and Soap can see his short wavy blonde hair sticking all over the place and 

The four times he had seen Simon’s face in it’s whole — obviously, Las Almas; one time when he was unconscious and bleeding from a head wound and Johnny had to check; one time when they took a shower together, Simon stayed with his back toward him through most of it, but when they finished, he let Johnny dry off his hair; one time, when Johnny asked him to see him for his birthday presents, a few minutes after midnight.

Johnny wasn’t sure why exactly Simon didn’t want to show him his face. It wasn’t a trust thing — he trusted Johnny with more than his own life — and it wasn’t like he was ugly — he was downright sinful. He never drilled the topic because he didn’t care, if SImon wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready, but if he had to guess, it was all to do with identity and being seen. No one knew his face — people could know his name, Simon “Ghost” Riley, but they wouldn’t know the man behind the mask. Wouldn’t know the people behind Simon “Ghost” Riley.

(Johnny wasn’t completely off on the assumption — Simon didn’t want anyone to know his face because faceless people weren’t missed. Faceless graves — like his own — didn’t have people to leave behind, and faceless soldiers didn’t have loved ones to find and he was both. No one could get hurt if he remained faceless. Or at least that’s what he’d been telling himself.)

And Johnny is okay with that — if Simon never showe him his face again, he’d still love him all the same. Johnny’s family? Not so much.

They’re supposed to be in Glasgow for five days total, leaving after Boxing Day. Johnny gives them all a warning, that Ghost is a bit shy and doesn’t like showing his face, he’ll most likely stay covered the whole time, he might be wearing a balaclava, or a mask, he probably won't eat at the table.

When they arrive at his parents house, it almost seems like everyone forgot. Like everyone thought it'd be more mild or that Johnny was exaggerating.

There are looks. There is silence. People can't stop staring.

His mam takes one look at Simon’s balaclava once they enter the living room and looks funny at them. “Ah thooght Ah tauld ye boays tae strip doon.”

“Mam, lea him alane,” he tries but he can tell that Simon is getting tense and his mam is getting tense.

His mam, who is usually the sweetest person ever, is uncharacteristically quiet and curt whenever Simon is around. Simon doesn't really know how to make it better — Johnny's never seen him so silent outside of stealth missions, he just stands there like a sore thumb, not making anything less awkward. He didn't expect him to — Simon's social skills are lacking and he loves him that way — but he expected his own family to not make such a big deal out of that mask.

His da is stern and silent, which is as disapproving as he gets. His sisters are a bit weirded out, but mostly focused on teasing Johnny, even making fun of the mask. With a stupid grin, his older sister asks, “Does he keep it oan in bed?”

Johnny doesn't say anything to that, even though his face feels red. His sisters stop laughing.

“He does?” When Johnny tries to step out of the room and avoid the conversation, his sister’s tone changes. “Hae ye e’en seen his face?”

“O’ coorse Ah hae,” he spits out. He doesn’t specify it was only four times — he doesn’t think it’d help. “And ‘s a bonnie ane, alricht.”

It doesn’t save the situation and his sisters are also weirded out and wary from then on.

 The kids do not care — they ask maybe two questions, tilts their head as Simon explains and that’s it — and Johnny breathes a little easier as soon as his nieces push Simon outside to help them build a snowman.

The judgment doesn’t stop. Johnny’s blood boils any time it shows and even though Simon says it’s all fine, he can’t stop feeling angry about this. They just can’t get past the mask.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are difficult to Simon and Johnny knows it. He’s given him the option to omit the family dinner on both those days if he’s not feeling alright enough to spend those days in crowdy house filled with a flock of loud and cheery people of all ages.

Simon knows this. He also knows that if he says he wants to stay at Johnny’s flat for the time being, Johnny is going to insist he doesn’t have to go either, that he’d prefer to stay in with him and not go for the Christmas dinner. Which he also knows is bullshit — Johnny loves Christmas, loves spenidng time with his family, that was basically why he kept on insisting Simon couldn’t stay alone at the base for Christmas another year in a row. It was the main reason why he agreed to go with Johnny in the first place, he was pretty sure if he didn’t go with him, Johnny would insist he stays, too. 

So Simon stays in for Christmas Eve — or rather goes to a pub while Soap spends the day with his parents — but insists they go to Christmas dinner. 

His family is disappointed to see him there, to the point the usual manuevering around politeness and disapproving go onto a backburner.

“John said yer nae a fan o’ Christmas,” Johnny’s mum says to him pointedly.

“That’s right.”

“And yet ye’r ’ere,” she notes.

Johnny is far away from the earshot and he doesn’t want to lie to her so he admits, “If I didn’t come, Johnny would insist on keepin’ me company.”

“How come ye dinnae try to hae a bit mair cheer fur th' holidays then? Put a bit mair effort in for ma baby.” 

Johnny notices and soon enough, he’s next to him, their arms brushing, Johnny’s hand on the small of his back. “Lea him alane, mam.”

“It’s fine,” he says even though it’s not fine. They deserve an explanation, even just to know what they son is getting himself into. “My family was murdered on Christmas Eve. I’m—I’m trying.”

The silence falls over the room — Johnny’s mum, dad, his sister, all present, not looking at them. Simon closes his eyes, tries to breathe.

Johnny rubs his back. “Let’s gae home.”

“I’m not ruining Christmas for you, Johnny,” he says. Before Johnny can deny it — and he knows he’d try — he tries to placate, “Let’s just have ourselves a minute to calm down.”

Maybe it’s the way his voice is perfectly levelled or the way his hand trembles as he squeezes Johnny’s, but he lets him leave the room.

He steps outside — to the backyard. Sits down on the step to the garden and lets the snow soak through his jeans and the top o his balaclava.

The kids come outside, tripping over Simon’s legs. They were all oblivious to the trails and errors of Simon’s integration into the family, so they approach him as always

“Whit's wrang?”

There’s just something so innocent in having a six-year-old girl covered from head to toe in pink and glitter worry about you. Simon would never admit it in front of Johnny, but he finds the accent cute.

Simon takes off the mask.

The kids all look at him and look at him, a bit unsure maybe a bit fearful — it can be a scary sight, he admits, the elongated, jagged smile that sticks to him no matter the mood, makes him more crazy than he already is — but only one of Johnny’s niece keeps her eyes on Simon’s face. 

Shily, she asks, “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he replies. When she smiles, he smiles back.

Not anymore.

This is Johnny’s family. Simon can deny it all he wants, but Johnny’s seen him as family, as someone he’d leave behind, and it hadn’t been unrequited. He can’t hide behind a mask forever and maybe this was the kick he needed.

He steps back inside when his hands turn numb. He doesn’t put the mask back on.

Johnny’s eyes widen. “Simon?”

Simon just—smiles. He can feel the scars pulling on the corners of his mouth, the stiffer skin, but he’s not faceless. He’s not been faceless for a while.

Edit (29/03/24): This is now a WIP for a minimum 15k fic, titled don't shoot me, santa, that will have 4 chapters and will be posted (hopefully) later in the year

[siddyyyyyyyy]

You're Only Sixteen

wc: 4.7 K

summary: child soldier joins taskforce 141, part SIX; one, two, three, four, five; seven

warnings: violence, description of a panic attack, description of an injury, death, nightmares

a/n: this part is probably a little more chaotic, but I tried to make it make sense. next part is going to be the final one! Hope you enjoy it!

Once all geared up, it‘s time to jump into the vehicle and drive to your old camp. From time to time, you feel a burst of slight anxiousness and anticipation, recognising some specific places as you sit in the back of the truck beside Farah. You still have doubts in the back of your mind, quietly contemplating while taking in the surroundings.

Riley sits by Ghost in between his legs, tongue sticking out while getting small back rubs from his owner. She was imported later on as you got your equipments, now being on the mission with the rest. Farah‘s team is with another vehicle, creating a line of a total of four trucks.

»Building‘s in sight. Three armed guards at the entrance, two on the roof.«

Price informs as he looks through a pair of binoculares.

»They usually have more guards inside, also taking guard. Probably about four.«

You add, getting a brief nod back from Price as the rest takes the information in. He sits back on the passanger seat as one of Farah‘s men drive, stopping by an edge of a small cliff. The camp is about 1.5 miles away from your current position, taking a deep breath, you look at it from this perspective. It feels wrong to stand here, getting a brief feeling of getting into trouble before Ghost speaks up. He commands Riley to stick close to him, the dog staying by his left foot as he checks his rifle again.

You all pair up, being together with Farah and are now getting to a high and well hidden spot to set up your sniper rifles quickly. Ghost and Soap also make their way silently, making sure they don‘t get spotted by any of the guards as they approach the building. Gaz and Price are a few feet behind them, about to keep watch for them and the guards.

It seems to go as planned for now, being as calm as possible beside Farah. Rifles are set up and you lay flat on your stomach, looking through the lense of the gun to mark the positions of the guards, and informing the rest over the comms of the progress.

There are indeed more guards than what it looked like at first, actually being a little surprised about it. Usually, they had about four guards looking for any unwanted guests around the small base, trying to figure out why they have more today. Did the know about this? A secret tracker?

You check your clothes for any potential trackersor mics, but it‘s imppossible since you changed your clothes regurarly and would‘ve noticed it way earlier. Sighing out, you get back to watching the guards stands or walk around the ground.

»Getting paranoid?« You don‘t bother looking beside you to Farah as she is busy with some equipment, probably measuring some more stuff.

»Never.« There‘s no need for an honest response, being sarcastic about it even, which earns a small huff from your right. She glances towards you while you focus on watching the guards.

»Something that‘s got your attention, then?«

You answer with a small grunt, not seeing much but the guards being seemingly oblivious to your presence.

»Why don‘t they have comms? Do they all go around without even a walkie talkie?«

You ask yourself as you keep your eyes on one of the guards, him just standing stoicely as he stares at nothing in particular. Farah looks through her own pair of binoculares, also noticing it.

»This is even better. How did they manage to train children when they‘re so uncareful?«

She mumbles back rather thoughtfully, making you shift in your position a little.

»Fear. And I don‘t think they are this unorganised.«

You answer back, really just assuming, but having been there for almost ten years made you overhear and see things you probably shouldn‘t have. Gaz speaks through the comms, making you concentrate on the actual mission again.

»Bravo-6, at your sign.«

You and Farah settle on the guards at the roof top, taking the one on the left while Farah aims for the second one.

A sharp shot goes through the air and you follow, taking out the two guards on the top with your teammate with a scary accuracy. The remaining guard is alerted immediatly and go inside, probably about to inform the ones inside about the shooting.

Now it needs to be quick and even more efficient. You both make your way down to the building and take your hand gun out, on high alert now. Farah gets in front of you and you follow her, seeing Ghost and Soap already being inside the entry as they fight the last four gaurds to ground, being stealthy as they do so. Riley takes out the last guard on her own, biting at his neck until he becomes limp.

It‘s the first time you actually feel thankful for the camp. Thank any God up or down that they are stupid enough to not have any communications on them. Hopefully they don‘t have any alarms around as well. Not that you ever experienced one in your time of being there.

You two change positions with Price and Gaz, them going forward to join the other pair instead. It‘s getting closer and more real, you know it‘s about a few minutes before you join them and lead the way to the directors room. Sighing out softly, you take a hiding spot behind one of vehicles and watch, waiting for a sign to join them inside.

Ghost and Soap currently make their way fully inside, checking for anyone before they enter the security room to cut off the cameras. Soap makes some pictures for evidence, taking some photos of the entrance, making sure the small camera stays secured in one of his pant pockets.

They exchange a few words over the comms, listening intently while keeping a close eye on your surroundings. It seems like most of them seem to be training right now, and by the current time, it‘s very likely. It is convinient, being able to get in as the soldiers are distracted and the superiors train them or have some meaningless meetings.

After what felt like too intense moments of silence, Ghost speaks up, telling it‘s clear now that the cameras are cut off. Just in case, they import all the camera footage into an extra USB-stick before continuing. Riley stays by their side, sniffing at the air a bit.

Finally, the other pair and you can go in, forming your team whole again to get to the directors room. You have an uneasy feeling but ignore it, rolling your shoulders to release some tension. Once you got inside, the taskforce is already there just by the entrance, Price nodding to you. Without wasting any more time, you lead the way up the stairs, the rest following behind. You all sweep each floor, reaching the third and last one.

»Down the hallway, on the right. I think they‘re having a meeting since we didn‘t see any of them around.«

You briefly state before Price gets to the front again, making you stand behind one of the others. For some reason, you feel the need to be at Price‘s place, as if you should be the one to storm in. This is all too familiar. As if it happened before already. The room you‘re about to enter is full with your superiors and commanders, being still slightly intimidated by them.

But before you could say something, Price kicks the door down and storms down, pulling as soon as one of them draw their gun at him. Fortunately no one dares to draw their gun again as the rest of you storms in quickly, pointing your barrels at them.

The room is tense while Price shouts orders at them, the few old men in the room slowly moving as the follow his commands and get to the floor with their hands raised. You watch carefully, eyes flicking to each of them at the same time to make sure none of them try funny tricks.

It seems to be without any success as one of them – one of the younger ones – draws his gun at you, being frozen in place. The rest of the commanders seem even more surprised as they recognise you, Ghost covering you quicker than you could comprehend what‘s happening, and takes the threat down. He falls limp to the ground, the room filling with Riley‘s barking and growls at the men.

Before it gets too much, Price sends and Soap quickly put handcuffs on the remaining few men, taking them by their arms harshly to get them outside. You get informations from Farah and Alex that they are currently rescuing the rest of the children, getting more vehicles for them. You get orders to sweep the remaining hallways and rooms with Gaz for any children that were left out, leading the way again.

You sweep the third floor as the others go out of the building to get the enemies out and safely into a vehicle. The third floor seems to be clean, going down stairs to check for the other rooms in the second. Time moves fast and before you know it, you are both back in the first floor and continue the search. It seemed clean of children for now, being done with all the rooms and getting to where the K9‘s should be. An uncomfortable shiver runs down your spine and Gaz seems to sense it, glancing to you.

»You alrigh‘, Bane?« You exhale shakily and steady your rifle in your arms, hoping the dogs are caged in. With a small nod, you both move forward and Gaz follows you, being more alert.

You get the door open, trying to be as silent and careful as possible, but the dogs had sensed your scent already. They start to bark and you try to stay composed and calm, it not working as one of them charges at the barely open door. You flinch and try to move away as fast as possible, but the aggressive Rottweiler is faster and has way more anger. The dog catches your ankle in its teeth and roughly shakes his head, growling dangerously at you. Drool drips from its mouth, making the scene even more revolting.

Gaz acts quickly and shoots it down, taking you away from the door to close it before another one comes at your way. It all happened so fast, you couldn‘t even scream or fullly process what happens before it happened.

You take a step to lean against the wall, your mind reeling. It‘s difficult to from a straight thought, vision getting blurry while you attempt to examine your ankle. Your teammate is quick to be by your side, helping you stand upright with his arm under your shoulders. He says or asks something, but you can‘t hear him. You want to cry, but you don‘t want to show him that you‘re in pain.

He senses in how much fear and panic you are, cursing under his breath as he tries again.

»Bane! Can you hear me? You need to focus, can you look at me?«

You don‘t respond once again but you do look at him briefly. You look as pale as the wall behind you, breathing shallowy. There is a tightness in your throat and chest, and you are unsure of what to do. Gaz has never seen you this panicked before. Kyle is helpless for a moment too, before he tags you along the hallway, relieved you are both on the first floor right now and don‘t need to walk a lot.

He supports your weight and makes sure you don‘t put pressure on your injured ankle, blood trailing on the floor from your wound as you limp to the exit.

It feels surreal and you finally get why you‘ve been feeling so strange. All the time, you‘d been having some kind of déjà vu.

You don‘t know how or when you got to one of the vehicles, Soap quickly coming to you free side to support you. There are no medics in sight, but Farah quickly gets her med kit out. She hasn‘t seen your injury yet, but seeing you limping like that is enough to set her instincts flying. Alex tries to calm her down in some way, seeing how frantic her movements are.

They set you down to sit on the ground, Farah being by your side in no time and examines the bite wound briefly. She rolls your pants up just enough to take a better look at the bite, having no time to clean the blood as it‘s gushing from it. The procedure feels even more painful than the actual bite, but you sit through, a few grunts and winces escaping from you. The team gave you some space as she treats your, doing it as efficient and fast as possible.

The wound is finally wrapped up, but the pain seems to get worse by the second. It burns and stings, also feeling as if your ankle is getting squeezed by something really strong. You notice just then that your cheeks are wet, wiping at them to realise you cried either during the treatment or while Gaz carried you out. Either way, you still need a few moments to calm down.

Farah exhales and pulls you into a hug, your resolve finally breaking. All it took was a stupid dog biting your ankle and a strong embrace after stopping the bleeding.

You don‘t want to cry or show any signs of vulnerableness, but it‘s too late. Right now, you don‘t care if someone is laughing at you for crying or hugging Farah back, her words finally coming through.

»I‘ve got you, okay? It‘s done. I‘m here.«

She whispers while rubbing your back, feeling her heart clench at your sobs. Seeing those poor soldiers that she just escorted from their ‚training‘ and seeing you injured made herself crumble and wish she could undo any pain you‘re feeling right now.

Finally, the air seems to et easier through your nose and lungs, your grip on her loosening as your face is still burried in her shoulder. She doesn‘t let go though and waits until you‘ve calmed down completely. It takes a few deeper breaths for you to calm down, letting go of her eventually which makes her let go as well.

It‘s embarrassing now, wiping at your eyes and cheeks with trembling hands. Your ankle has now a dull ache, feeling a faint heartbeat that makes you uncomfortable once more.

Ghost tries to hold Riley back, not wanting for you to feel scared again or have another possible panic attack.

You hear a dog bark from a short distance, turning your head just to find Riley barking at something. It seems to be nothing, but it soon turns out that there are a group of unfamiliar vehicles approaching you. The trucks are dusty and dirty, probably not having been used for some time, but you recognise them. It doesn‘t take long for the rest to get who it is, quickly making sure the children are escorted safely before you make your way out of the area as well.

You scramble yourself back up on your feet, ignoring the stinging pain it gives you when you put pressure onto it. The other vehicles approach fast, the soldiers at the back pointing their guns at your group already and starting to fire.

Your team gathers quickly again, feeling how an arm is slung over you, before you are carried towards your own trucks, realising that Soap just swept you off your feet and slung you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You are seated back on one of the seats in the back beside him, seeing how he points his own gun to the enemies and starts firing.

»Giv‘ me a hand, kid?«

He shouts through the loud sounds of the firearms and the truck speeding off, needing to make sure you don‘t accidently fall out of it.

You don‘t think too much and reload your own rifle before starting to shoot after getting some position in which you won‘t fall out from. There‘s a small but noticable metallic thud that you hear, looking beside you to see a grenade laying between you and Soap. Without thinking, you grab it and throw it back, it exploding right before the vehicle of the enemies, which makes one of their tires to pop, and send the vehicle to crash.

One down.

»Good job, kid! Only two more to go.« Soap praises briefly before the next vehicle is in close enough range to fire at them, trying to aim for the driver. If only these stupid roads weren‘t so bumpy, you could actually land some decent shots. But they only seem to damage to windshield and not go straight through the glass, also getting annoyed at how bad the rest of the soldiers in the truck aim at you both.

With a low curse, you grab your own grenade and throw it to the vehicle in front of you, hoping it will do the same like the last one. It manages to hit the glass and punch right through it, exploding only a second after inside the vehicle. The driver is most likely done for and the truck loses its control, it flaming up as it drives off to the side and crashes.

There‘s not enough time to praise or express some proudness of your stragedy since the last vehicle seems to be the most stubborn one.

They seem to have some kind of machine gun that they point towards you, ducking quickly to avoid getting genuinely mauled by it.

»Drive faster, will ye! Why don‘t we have more explosives with us?!«

Soap curses at the driver which turns out to be Price at the drivers seat. He speaks through the comms to you, speeding up to full capacity to try and escape the enemy.

»We have ‘em! Use your eyes!«

The captains rough voice sounds through the comms and you are already searching for any of these things he just told you the truck has, just now seeing the case that looks useful. With quick hands, you muster the lid open and Soap is already pulling out a grenade launcher and pointing the heavy thing towads the other vehicle.

After two satisfying clicks, the machine gun the other team used is broken, now pointing at one of the wheels to get it down. It crashes down finally, some pathetic attempts of controlling the big vehicle are useless as it catches fire like the last one. You drive off the scene, being slightly startled of an explosion. The second truck you put down just exploded.

A stabbing pain catches your attention, looking dwn to your ankle again. Oh, right… you were bitten by big dog just a moment ago. The bandages around your ankle are still tight, some blood haven seeped through while you were defeating the last few enemies with Soap together.

The man beside you notices how you seem to be concerned about something and finally sits down normally besides you, even when it‘s still a little inconvinient at the back of the truck.

»Still achin‘?«

You pull your legs closer to yourself, trying to put it into an easy position.

»Dumb question, must be hell after fighting those guys.« He answers his own question at how careful you move. That raises Gaz‘s attention as he is in a vehicle with Farah and Alex, talking through the comms.

»How‘s Bane? Is the leg still on?« His voice goes through your earpieces, being forced to reply to it. You wouldn‘t want anyone worrying over you for no reason.

»It‘s there, in one piece. Could be worse.«

You answer back and sigh out exhausted, really wanting to just be somewhere safe and alone. This mission was really draining.

The rest of the drive was mostly silent, only hearing some brief comments from Your teammates as they talk among themselves from time to time. Once you arrrive at the base, you feel relieved. For most of the time you have been zoning out and thinking about other stuff, not sure how the rest will go on from now.

Soap helps you get out of from the truck, leaning against him to not put any weight on your injured ankle. Farah makes sure to get the bad guys out and into another vehicle to drive them to a cell, saving the interrogation for later.

Ghost keeps Riley close by, still careful not to let the K9 too close for your comfort. By now you feel much more calm and collected, even though everything still feels a little weird. Soap offers you to sit down but you decline, settling on using him as your support. He doesn‘t seem to have anything against it, his arm staying around your shoulders to make sure you don‘t fall or lose blance.

»What do you know about the dogs back there?« Price asks once he is back in front of you, getting the feeling that these couple of bastards hide something more.

You briefly explain what you know, it being the same things you told Ghost before. Their K9‘s having been ‚trained‘ to be more aggressive and bite everything that moves, not able to recognise what‘s actually a threat. The captian nods and processes the new information, hoping to finally get to the bottom of this soon enough to put them into their deserved cell. If not the Gulag even.

After finding out some more stuff, Farah gets to your team again, Alex taking some care of the people they are escorting to a temporary place to spend some nights in before they figure things out.

She sees you leaning against Soap, him having a supportive arm around your shoulder to give you a little more balance.

»Why are you standing here? Get inside and rest. You all know you‘re welcome here.« Farah scolds lightly as she sticks by your side and guides you both to a tent, telling some nurses what had happened for them to take care of you. Soap settles you down with a small frown before he gets back to the rest, petting Riley to have something to busy his hands with for now.

The nurses take good care of you, even offering you a small lollipop after the treatment. You accept it, noticing it‘s cherry flavoured. What a coincidence.

Your ankle had been bitten by the dog pretty hard, the way he shook his head had caused for your skin to have gone off quite a lot at the area he bit down. Luckily, you didn‘t bleed too much. The nurses told you to leave the bandage on and change it every night. It‘s obvious this will leave a messy scar, having gained another against your will.

The sweet flavour of the lollipop has helped with your thoughts though, staying seated on an extra bed while you quietly think to yourself. Finally, Price finds you and helps you up to leave back to your own base. Nikolai is already waiting by his helicopter, helping the others with the loading of your equipment. The sun is setting, it actually being almost nine in the evening by now. The mission had really taken a toll on you. Both emotionally and physically.

You get seated inside the helicopter, not being allowed with the loading this time. Riley gets a seperate transport again, meaning that Ghost won‘t need to restrain her from trotting over you happily while you‘re still clearly exhausted.

It‘s dark when they got finished with the task, settling inside afterwards. Once again, Soap settles beside you while Kyle takes a seat at your left side and the other two settle in front of you.

You don‘t bother putting your headset on though and straight up lean your head against Kyle‘s shoulder to relax in some kind of way. Nikolai puts on some music on once more, making sure it isn‘t as loud as the last time and flies you all back to your base.

After a short nap, you wake up to the rest talking among each other.

»Nik- we have plenty of MRE‘s in here, we don‘t need to stop by--«

You can hear Price argue as quietly as possible so not to wake you up, barely making out what they‘re saying at the moment.

A loud groan interrupts the captains voice, seemingly still not happy and stubborn to get his idea across. Soap mentions for you to put your headset back on, having a more amused look on his face. Once you wear it again, the rest notices and Nik lights up in excitement.

»Oh, awake? Do you know Mcdonald‘s? We should stop by and get us someting, don‘t you think so?«

»Who‘s McDonald‘s?« You ask back confused, still being slightly groggy from your short nap. Well, the nap that lasted almost an hour. A short silence follows after your confused question, while Price stands next to Nik in the cockpit, seemingly giving him puppy eyes to coax him into stopping by the fast food restaurant.

»No, Nik-« price gets interrupted again and the vehicle take a turn, making you a bit surprised.

»My heli, my rules.« Are the last words before he lands in a rather secluded area, not seeing anything beside darkness and a forest.

You can hear a mischivious laugh from the pilot before he gets off his seat and takes his wallet with him. Without any further discussion, Soap follows, having seemingly been on the same side as Nikolai. Price groans quietly but follows them to the fast food chain that shouldn‘t be too far off. »You do know this is going to the report?« He grumbles while walking beside him, soon being too far away to hear any of their bickering.

Kyle leans back in his seat once more, it being silent for a moment with just you three being inside for now. They return after some longer moments, them carrying smaller bags with them.

Soap hands you a happy meal and a capri sun, being a little surprised about it, but appreciated it. The rest gets whatever they ordered for themselves, Ghost not having ordered anything for himself this time. You try out the food they brought you, quietly enjyoing the chicken nuggets beside your teammates as you are all eating together and continue your way back to the base.

The rest of the flight goes by rather silent and peaceful for now, no longer antics or loud music playing in the background. You manage to fall asleep again, laying against Soap‘s shoulder this time.

Unfortunately, a nightmare plagues you, and you consider just never sleeping again with the amount of nightmares you still get, even with a nice company like them.

»I want to storm in! It‘s only fair, you always get to enter first.«

The very familiar voice pleads as she gets in front of you, making you smile slightly.

»Because I am the first in command. You shouldn‘t go in first, Halime.«

The conversation becomes more blurred and fast forward, getting in front of the door that leads to the basement, needing to get one last thing before finally going back to your dorm.

She somehow managed to change your opinion and enter first, not even realising what‘s happening first before her figure sags down and becomes limp.

You have no choice but to take out the hiding enemies out first and then tend to your close teammate, seeing how lifeless her eyes already look like. It‘s scary and the basement seems to shrink itself around you, the body in your arms slowly vanishing until she fully disappears and you see nothing but darkness.

There‘s a loud rumble waking you up from the unpleasant flashback, feeling a migraine form around your head. It seems like you landed just now, it being lighter outside again.

With a small sigh, you gather yourself up and leave with the rest, determined to not get any help on walking this time.

Riley arrives just a few hours later, not able to see her for now after the short debrief your team had, currently having to stay in your bed and rest. Even when you feel restless and even worse after that grueling nightmare, there isn‘t much you can do but stay in your bed and try to sketch something, having no energy to do so however.

a/n: again, next part is the final one, i will try to make the most out of it :3

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Alastor x Reader

Light Smut

Here's the story behind my post about Alastor's dexterous skills with his cane, which really turns the reader on.

Link to the post:

Warnings: There are mentions of oral sex and fingering; the reader character has a vagina.

The plot isn't very... plot-heavy? It might be a little poorly written, to be honest.

It's mostly just a very horny reader, with a bit of a spicy ending.

Alastor might be a little out of character.

I still hope you enjoy reading it! :)

It's been a boring day at the Hazbin Hotel. You have finally managed to get out of bed after a long time, washed up, put on some clothes and are now leaving your room to go to the lobby. You actually like autumn, but you have to admit that this time of year always makes you feel a little sluggish.

You wonder if this time of year has the same effect on other souls.

Maybe Angel has some interesting news about some sinners you can gossip about. Or maybe Husk will make you that good tea again that only he can make.

You stride down the grand staircase, keeping an eye out for your friends to make sure they are here to save your boring day.

But instead of your friends, you see him: the radio demon.

Goosebumps of fear spread over your body - he has a cold and sinister aura - and at the same time that cosy, warm feeling rises in your chest that you always get when you see this elegant man in his red coat, which hugs a tall, slim body and makes a secret of what exactly is hidden underneath, but still reveals enough to know that revealing this secret is definitely worthwhile.

Your gaze falls on his feet, which are hidden in elegant oxfords with a discreet heel. Then your eyes travel up his body, which stands upright in a distinguished posture with both hands on the handle of his microphone cane. Over his dark trousers, which emphasise his long legs, then to his shirt, which he never tucks into his trousers, but you have often noticed that he wears a leather belt that fits perfectly with the overall look.

Sometimes, when you are lying in bed at night, you are overcome with fantasy and with it the strong desire to be allowed to help yourself to this belt just once.

On these nights, you imagine him sitting in his armchair in front of the fireplace in his room, lit by the flickering, warm fire that creates a warm atmosphere with its crackling. You imagine yourself kneeling on the floor in front of him, between his legs, while he holds the glowing green chain that binds your soul to him forever and looks at you expectantly after ordering you to open his trousers to satisfy him with your beautiful mouth.

You're almost at the foot of the stairs and you still can't stop staring at Alastor. Now you're looking at the strands of his hair, which rest very neatly in a bob cut almost on his shoulders, framing his handsome face, which is also adorned with his wonderful, captivating eyes that look like glowing rubies.

Oh, damn, you fancy this demon!

And you hate the fact that he seems so unapproachable. Like a mystery that doesn't want to be seen through.

As you start to enjoy his cute antlers sticking out of his fiery red mop of hair, your enjoyment is interrupted when you realise that he has a guest standing in front of him and talking to him. And this guest is none other than Mimzy.

She's been dropping by the hotel a lot these days to visit Alastor.

You can't stand her. She exudes an unpleasant aura towards you.

You know that she doesn't like you either. But you don't know why that is.

The reason is that she can't stand the fact that you have a high status with Alastor - which you don't know either. And he probably doesn't either.

But Mimzy recognises it. The way he looks at you and how his usually bitter smile turns into a warm expression as soon as you're near him. How his pupils dilate when you talk to him. And he talks about you a lot. Almost all the time, in fact.

How Mimzy wished she could have been looked at like that by Alastor when she was alive. But she could go to great lengths to make her way into his otherwise dark heart, but she never made it. He successfully stopped her. Time and time again.

And now that place in his cold, dead heart is occupied. This powerful, self-absorbed jerk has let you in there without you realising it.

"Ah, good day, my dear. It's a real pleasure to finally see you among the more lively characters in this hotel" Alastor greets you with genuine joy, which Mimzy only comments on with a discontented grumble.

"Hi" you reply shyly and immediately head for the lobby sofa, which is a little further away from the bar where the two twenties chatterboxes are standing.

But the radio demon doesn't find your aloof attitude particularly pleasant. When you sit down on the sofa, he asks: "Why don't you join us, y/n? It would be a pleasure to pour you a drink and enjoy a nice chat with you."

Your gaze wanders to Mimzy, who seems rather unhappy about her friend's invitation. That alone is reason enough for you to approach them with a provocative grin and join in their conversation.

Angel and Husk aren't here anyway and maybe the two flappers will manage to get you out of your boredom.

But you realise now that you've made a mistake.

Firstly, there is Alastor's immediate proximity. His scent has such a beguiling effect on you that you feel as if you've been catapulted into another dimension.

The arousal in your body increases, you feel the moisture spreading between your legs and soaking your panties with this warm, clear juice.

You try very hard to listen to Alastor, but it seems almost impossible.

And then comes the final signal that you can forget any attempt to concentrate on this conversation when you suddenly notice his hand skilfully twirling the microphone cane between his fingers.

You watch these movements intently and are impressed by his skill.

You've often noticed that he spins his walking stick between his fingers from time to time, but it's only at this moment that you realise how incredibly good he is at it.

You don't take your eyes off his hand. Impressed by the skill of his nimble fingers, you dive into your fantasy world in which you imagine that the radio demon is pleasuring you with these fingers.

That he pushes them inside you and explores every single spot of your wet temple until he finds the one that really excites you.

Meanwhile, he rubs your clitoris with his thumb to drive you to absolute ecstasy.

You imagine him looking deep into your eyes and repeatedly mentioning how beautiful he thinks you are while he drives you crazy with his dexterity in your dripping wet, delicious pussy.

Your whole body tenses up at the thought, your loins burn with desire for this man and your desire to be satisfied by him grows stronger and stronger.

You want nothing more than to belong to him for just one night, and you would even make the dirtiest, most sinful deal with him.

"Hey, he asked you a question, bitch!" Mimzy yells at you and snaps you out of your forbidden daydream.

You look at his annoyed face, then at Alastor, who looks at you in a patronising, expectant way.

"Would you come with me to Cannibal Town later, my dear? I'd like to go for a walk in the park and wouldn't mind your company."

You turn bright red and almost compete with the radio demon's coat.

"I..." you stammer, embarrassed. You can feel Alastor and Mimzy's eyes on you and it feels as if they have read your thoughts and seen this naughty film in your head.

"Excuse me. I have to go" you say suddenly and immediately turn round and hurry back up the stairs to your room.

When you get there, you close the door loudly behind you, lean against it and, completely out of breath, you try to calm down from everything that has just happened.

You wait.

And wait.

Until your breathing gradually settles down again.

When you realise that you can breathe normally again, you sink to the floor, your knees pulled up close to your body, your arms folded on your knees and your head buried in them.

That was probably the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you.

Fuck!

Why did that even have to happen?

Suddenly you are torn from your stream of thought when there is a knock on the door behind you.

The knock sounds like the hand of a strong man. It sounds firm and authoritative. The sound of the knock alone tells you who is on the other side of the door.

You roll your eyes in despair - why did he have to follow you now?

You quickly get up from the floor, smooth out your clothes and hair to bring some order back to your rumpled appearance and then open the door.

The radio demon smiles down at you and before you can even think about inviting him in, he confidently and naturally makes his way past you into your room. As he stops in the room, he turns round on the heel of his shoe in an elegant turn towards you, stops in front of you in an upright, distinguished posture and places his hands on the handle of his walking stick.

You close the door.

"Hello, my dear" he greets you with a certain irony in his voice, which is accompanied by a radio filter.

You look at him with narrowed eyes. You mistrust him in a way, especially when he grins at you with his arrogant manner, as he is doing at this moment.

You don't say anything. You don't have to, because it's Alastor who keeps talking as he crosses his arms behind his back with his walking stick and starts pacing around your room, looking around as if he's looking for something that will tell him more about you: "You're probably wondering why I'm here. Well, that's a very good question, after you removed yourself from our conversation rather quickly."

He casts a scrutinising glance over his shoulder at you to see your reaction.

You look to the side, embarrassed.

What should you say when he asks you why you suddenly left?

He approaches you and infiltrates your personal space. He gets so close to you that you can almost feel his breath on your face as he bores his gaze into yours to force the truth.

But you try to avoid the truth for now by stammering, suppressing your heavy breathing with excitement: "I... I was expecting an important call."

Slowly, Alastor steps closer to you and pushes you backwards. He sighs in disappointment and shakes his head in judgement. Then he says, "Y/n, you should know that I don't like being lied to at all."

You are stopped by a wall and are forced to stand still while the radio demon stands directly in front of you, barely leaving any space between you and pinning you to the wall.

Your heart beats ever more wildly against your chest. Partly from fear. Partly from excitement.

You breathe in his beguiling scent as he looks at you insistently.

His gaze seems dark, his smile sinister and then he asks something you wish he'd never asked: "Why were you staring at me like that earlier, hm? Do you think I don't recognise a woman's lustful gaze when it's directed at me?"

Your cheeks flush heavily and you feel the moisture spreading through your lower region again.

You can't help but find this moment more erotic than scary.

You avert your eyes from him in an attempt to hide your shame.

But what's wrong with him? Since when has he been like this?

"Nuh-uh-uh. Don't be shy, my dear."

Suddenly he lets go of you.

He takes a little distance from you and with a meaningful grin - his eyes still fixed on you - he raises his walking stick with one hand, the other behind his back, while he stands in a distinguished posture.

And then he starts twirling the cane.

You look at his hand. At his fingers. You watch these talented movements closely and you don't realise that you are biting your lower lip suggestively as you involuntarily imagine these gifted fingers moving inside you.

"From the first time I saw the wicked look on your face, I immediately realised why you are so taken with the way I twirl my cane. And that's exactly why I always do it whenever you're near me" he murmurs in a dark voice.

Excuse me?

Your eyes widen in shock. Your mouth is slightly open, as if you want to say something back, but you are completely lost for words.

He brings his hand to your cheek, brushes a few strands of hair from your face with his thumb and now you can feel his excited breath as it caresses your delicate skin.

"I'm enjoying seeing how much you want me, sweetheart" he says with a static rush of pleasure.

"Go on, say it!" he suddenly commands you and you understand exactly what he wants from you. With trembling lips, you breathe a shy but lustful "I... I want you, Alastor" as you savour his touch on your cheek.

You reach for his hand, bring it to your mouth, close your eyes and spread a few kisses on his palm while breathing excitedly.

Suddenly, the radio demon tears himself away from you to place his hand on the back of your neck, pull you towards him and press an intimate, sensitive and hot kiss to your lips.

Your tongues dance together as if they have always longed to do so, his bittersweet saliva mingles with yours and you love the taste of it spreading through your mouth. Sometimes you feel his razor-sharp teeth running dangerously but carefully over the sensitive skin of your lower lip, hinting at slight bites of desire.

Then you pause to look into each other's eyes. When you open your eyes, you see that his antlers have grown larger.

He gently strokes your head and cheek and then runs his thumb over your lower lip.

"Tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours when you watch me" he says in his radio filter voice.

You gather all your courage - your strong desire for him helps you a lot - and you reply in a low voice: "I... I want you to finger me."

A dark chuckle comes from Alastor and the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a cheeky and triumphant grin.

Then he speaks: "Uh-huh! So that's what you are. It's not like you to hide such sinful thoughts behind that innocent-looking soul. But it seems to me that this season is turning us both into wayward sinners."

Suddenly he grabs you, spins you around, pushes you across the room and then gives you a shove so that you land on the bed with a swing.

Immediately afterwards, he climbs onto the bed with you, bends over you and soon you can feel his hand moving down your body to tug at your trousers. Goose bumps spread under the beads of sweat from your sexual energy.

"Now then. Your wish is my command, darling" he whispers to you with a satisfied and lustful smile.

Joy spreads through you, you smile back as you wrap your arms around him and pull him towards you for another deep kiss.

[yesimwriting]

oh my god yes i'm very much interested in a drabble about my favourite besties kissing as besties do!!!!!!!!

the one that i really can't stop thinking about is the "i trust you more than anyone else" stuff like it's me and you against the world i'm such a sucker for that!! especially since felix is surrounded by people who wanna be close to him all the time and as easy going and open as he seems with anyone, it's of course on an entirely different level with reader

ugh the intimacy of it all makes me melt i love them😭😭

you get the vision!!

also had to start off a little angstier than usual bc the bestie kiss ™️ is only justifiable if both of them are upset enough to be more focused on being close than anything else, y'know

----

The taste lingers. The bitterness infects all it touches, poisoning you from the inside out as you down the drink that some guy pushed into your hand a few minutes ago.

A familiar warning briefly flashes to the front of your mind. Don't take drinks from strangers...especially not drinks that you didn't see them make. One of a hundred safety rules that you usually adhere to.

You've never really under the self destructive urge after drinking thing. Maybe it's just being tired. Maybe it's just this.

You wipe at your eyes with your palm, only remembering the products you had so carefully applied to your skin a few hours ago after the fact.

"Are you--" A familiar voice cuts through the music. You blink once, but it's not enough to force your eyes to adjust, so you try again. After screwing your eyes shut for a second, you can finally make out the person in front of you. Annabel. "You don't look like you're doing too good."

Your irritation has nothing to do with her, and yet seeing her standing there, effortlessly flawless with a slight edge that just fits here, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. But that's not her fault, so as stabiliy and politely as possible, you answer, "I'm...fine."

She regards you for a moment, eyebrows pinching together in uncertainty. "Why don't we find Felix, yeah?"

Why does everyone always assume that Felix is the solution to all of your problems? "I'm okay," you try again, voice a little more certain, "really."

Annabel still doesn't seem too convinced. She turns her head, scanning the crowded room. It doesn't take long for her to find Felix. It never does.

He's sitting on a loveseat that's been pushed towards the edge of the room. A few people are standing around him, a girl is sitting on the chair's arm, her legs swung over his lap.

"And he seems..." You force your face to remain neutral as your eyes finally land on him. "Busy."

Annabel looks back at you, her lips pressing together. Her expression only adds to your unease. "He wouldn't mind. It's you."

You shake your head, the motion adding to your slight nausea. Usually, you wouldn't think twice about sticking by Felix's side. Especially in this kind of setting, but after the words the two of you exchanged earlier, everything feels off its axis.

You're not used to fighting with Felix. It's such a foreign concept that the strange tension that had you walking away from him earlier probably doesn't even constitute an actual argument. But it's enough to make you feel out of place.

Swallowing once, you force yourself to focus on Annabel. "I think I just need some air." Annabel's still regarding you with uncertainty. "I'll be back in a minute, and if I feel sick or anything, I'll go get Felix." She doesn't move until someone calls her name. "Go. Have fun. I'll see you."

Annabel nods once, giving you a polite smile before leaving.

The door is near where Felix is sitting, which means there's no leaving without walking past him. There's enough of a crowd around him that him not noticing is a likely option, so you feel safe crossing the room.

You push your way through the room, eyes trained on the ground to help your balance. It's also a good excuse to not look at Felix as you reach the door.

There are stragglers--a group of girls chatting and giggling in front of the door, some guys doing shots, a girl in the middle of a phone call that looks painful.

You walk around the side of the house until you find an empty section of the sidewalk. The party feels far away here, even though the only thing dividing you is a few cars, a mailbox, and a streetlight. You sit and let yourself pretend that the bit of distance you've managed to create means something.

You could actually leave. Sure, this is a slightly off campus house party, but it's only a few blocks away from the street that'll take you to your dorm. You did walk here, but that was when you were focused, sober, and you had Felix with you.

But that's--you brought cash. You think. Maybe you should call a cab. It's not the worst idea. You drop your attention to the ground, instinctually searching for your purse.

Ugh. Your purse. Felix. You gave it to Felix.

Okay, you're still an independent person. This is probably for the best. It's never a good idea to leave a party without at least telling the person you came with, and this way it won't be a big deal. You'll ask for your purse so that you can call a cab. He probably won't even care.

You just need a minute to get it together. Then you'll be able to go back in, tap Felix on his shoulder, and get your purse. He won't even have to get that girl off his lap.

It is such a double standard. Felix completely forgetting about you is perfectly fine, but you talk to one person that isn't more Felix's friend than yours at one of these things and that must mean you're trying to replace him as a best friend.

Maybe you've been deluding yourself, convincing yourself that your friendship means more than it actually does. The thought makes it hard to breathe right.

"It's cold out."

Your palms press into asphalt as you snap your head to find the source of the sound. Felix. A lump wedges itself in your throat. "I'm fine." He takes a step forward. "I just wanted some air."

You turn your head, forcing yourself to stare ahead. Soft footsteps, the crunching of asphalt echoes, somehow sharper than the music coming from the house. Felix sits.

He's farther than he usually is.

You lift your hands, taking your time brushing your fingers against your palms to get rid of the debris that indented itself into your skin. "You um--you have my purse, right?" You fold your hands against your lap. "I need my phone. I--I need to call a taxi."

"What?" His voice doesn't come out angry, but there's a flatness there that burrows deep into the pit of your stomach. It almost feels disappointed. "Why?"

You squeeze your hands together, "I want to go home." You still can't look at him. "I want to go back to my room." Your voice starts to crack on the last word. Nails instinctually dig into your knee.

Felix sighs, angling himself towards you, "You don't have to do that." His voice is soft, cautious. "If you want to leave, I'll take you."

"No," you shake your head once, attention still focused forward to keep him from noticing the fact that your eyes are now watering. All of this feels so dumb, so small. Why are you almost crying? "It's okay, you're having fun, I can get back by myself."

He lets out another breath, moving his arm so that his hand sits between both of you. "You're drunk."

"So are you."

A beat of silence that feels like an attempt at admitting that he's more than just drunk. You saw Tyler--or Trevor, or maybe Timothy--wandering the halls. Some guy whose name you can never remember because he only shows up at the end of nights, when you're too out of it to do much more than just be happy. He's known for carrying--and sharing--harder stuff.

Not that you'd know. There's nowhere that Felix won't take you, nothing that he keeps from you. That's part of the beauty of your friendship, the lack of judgement. But Felix isn't fond of you participating in everything all the time.

If you ever show interest in anything on a night that Felix isn't feeling too sure about, he'll offer to get you whatever you want later, when it's just the two of you. Maybe you'd mind his concern if you cared about getting high more.

You can feel Felix's stare, the weight of his full attention. "You don't actually think I'm going to let you go anywhere alone, after drinking, in the middle of the night."

There's a patience there that makes it hard to sit still. You turn your head, finally looking at him, "I'm fine. I can--" You cut yourself off with a slight sniffle.

You wipe at your face with the side of your palm. Felix's eyebrows are pinched together. You don't know what to make of the way he's watching you. Felix lifts his hand, fingers finding their way against your jaw before you can move. "You're upset."

Pressing your lips together, you try to force yourself to look as neutral as possible. "I'm fine." He doesn't move. "You should go back to your party, Felix."

"The party?" His expression briefly contorts in confusion. "I don't care about the party." Your vision is starting to blur. "There are other parties. You're crying." Felix shifts his hand up your face, his thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek.

You try to take a stabilizing breath, "It's not a big deal." You will yourself to move, to rely on him less. "I don't think I'm going to be any fun tonight, you should go, and I--I'll talk you tomorrow."

He frowns. "You don't have to be any fun." Felix shouldn't have to coddle you. Embarrassment and guilt further knot your stomach. "If you want to sit here, we can sit here. If you want to go inside, we can go inside. If you want to go home, we'll go home."

"Earlier," you manage, focusing on keeping your voice as even as possible, "When we--" Tears pool in your eyes, something at the back of your throat constricts. "I didn't--I don't know--"

You're not making sense, forcing out fragments of thoughts that don't work together. Felix seems to understand anyway, his thumb grazing against your cheek. "We don't have to talk about that now." You nod slowly. "If you still want to go home, let me take you."

You attempt a full breath, "But what ab--"

He tilts his head in a way that makes it feel like he's telling you a secret, "If you ask about the party again, I'm calling you delusional."

You roll your eyes. It's a relatively lame threat, but it serves its purpose. The corner of your mouth tugs itself upwards, your lips pressed together to hold in a partial laugh. "Okay."

Felix's hand slips from the side of your face and finds a new place against your shoulder. "Yeah? Let's go then."

He stands first and then extends an arm to help you. His stability makes it easier.

There is no laughter or pausing on sidewalks to try to hold onto each other. The two of you are quiet, but Felix does keep your fingers intertwined the entire way back to his dorm.

You don't think to question where he's taking you until you're in his room. "Felix." The walk had been good for you, the fresh air and time to gather your thoughts providing enough of a reprieve for you to get it together. "I want to go to sleep."

"Yeah," he mumbles, "I know, I'll get you your favorite shirt."

Your eyes focus on the ground. "I think I should sleep in my room tonight."

Felix sighs, turning away from the door. "You're trying to leave again."

The accusation only half makes sense, but there's a quietness to his voice that gets to you. All the nervous, alcohol fueled energy is coming back with a vengeance. "When have I ever left you?"

Felix scoffs, the sound bitter. "You left me tonight." If his voice was any less raspy, any less urging, you likely would have laughed. He's the one that got mad at you. "You just--you walked away from me. Like I didn't even matter to you."

The a thinly veiled sadness there that almost feels nervous. He can't meet your gaze. The pride encouraging you to stand still bleeds from you. Without its heat, its fire, there's not much keeping you stable.

You move forward, footsteps cautious. "Felix." You stretch a hand forward, fingers brushing against his forearm. He doesn't move. "Of course you matter to me. So much." Your fingers bend around his wrist. "You're my best friend."

He turns his arm. Your body tenses, preparing for his rejection. Felix's hand squeezes yours. There's a tension in his hold, but you embrace it all the same. "You walked away from me."

You take another step towards him, freehand finding his arm. "That's why." He sets a hand against you waist. The contact is firm, unforgiving. There's still hurt, but the only thing more unthinkable than holding on is letting go. "What you say means so much to me, because you're my best friend." His fingers press into your side. "And you were upset--and there were so many people--" Tears prick the corner of your eyes. "And I couldn't do that there."

"No." He squeezes your hand. "No, don't--don't cry, we're okay." As if to prove his point, Felix pulls you closer. The movement's too sudden for you to keep your balance on your own. You tighten your hold on Felix's arm. "Still my best girl, yeah?"

This is nowhere near the closest you've ever been to him. He has a hand on your hip, but that's far from the touchiest he's ever been. It shouldn't--he shouldn't be this distracting. It takes you a second too long to remember to nod.

He angles his head downwards, his cheek finding a place against your shoulder. Felix's breath is warm against your neck. "Wouldn't leave me."

You nod, moving your hand to rest against his back. Felix relaxes against you. It's not easy to stay stable with the alcohol still in your system and Felix's weight on you, but you manage.

"No." You mean it so much it almost hurts to get out. You'd never walk away from him. There's nothing like your bond with Felix. You could talk to him, be around him forever without feeling drained. "Of course not."

Felix turns his head, brushing his lips against your neck. "Stay over, then?" The question is soft, fragile. It'd be smart to create distance. If tonight's proven anything, it's that you're too attached to him. "Please?"

You smooth your knuckles against his spine. "Okay." He presses a kiss against your shoulder. "Yeah. I'll stay."

He hugs you even tighter. "No more tears, alright?"

You squeeze him back. "Alright."

For awhile, the two of you stay like that. There's nothing left to say, and that still manages to be comfortable. Silence is never uncomfortable with Felix.

He eventually shifts to place a kiss against the side of your neck. "We should get ready for bed."

You hum once in agreement. Neither of you move. Things are simple when you factor out the rest of the world. Things are easy when it's just you and Felix.

An overwhelming wave of fondness brings you back. As gently as possible, you start the process of untangling limbs. Felix pouts at you, expression drowsier than before.

Your fingers carefully brush his hair out of his face. "I need to change."

Felix fully straightens. His hand finds the back of your head. He pulls you towards him, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Okay."

He lets go of you before walking towards his dresser. Felix opens the top drawer and finds your usual sleep shirt. You take it before entering his bathroom.

Going out outfits are cute, but there's something about the moment you get home that immediately forces every ounce of discomfort to hit all at once. You shed the restrictive layers before pulling Felix's T-shirt over your head.

You swear there's some kind of rich guy secret to keeping clothes this soft. A combination of fabric, fancy detergent, and some third thing that's reserved for those in the know.

You turn on the sink, ready to wash what's left of the night off of your face. Felix has never gotten rid of or moved anything you've left in here. What's left of your buzz has you more emotional than usual, making the evidence of your life in his space heavier than it should be.

The feeling is good and bad all at once. Your attachment to Felix is the kind of thing that can only come from fully understanding someone. But there's an inherent danger in knowing someone like that, carrying about them like that. Especially Felix, who has everyone so he doesn't need anyone.

You splash some more water onto your face, attempting to shake off any lingering angst. You don't want to dissect your friendship until it eventually falls apart into nothingness.

When you finally step back into his room, Felix is sitting on his bed, back pressed against the wall. He's managed to change into pajama pants, but seems to be struggling with everything else. His shirt's half unbuttoned, and his fingers are actively working at undoing the rest of them. Felix's movements are slow and clumsy as he tugs on the fabric.

Wow. Maybe you were right to think he was high. "Hey." He looks up at you, hands still attempting to pull apart his shirt. There's something endearing about the clumsiness. He drops his head back down to refocus."Do you--uh--do you need help?"

He angles his head to one side, a smile playing at his lips. "Are you asking to undress me?"

Heat burns through your chest, leaving you hollow. You approach his dresser, leaving your neatly folded outfit on the wooden surface. "Figure out your own shirt."

"No," his sigh is light, almost a laugh, "'M kidding." Your glare only seems to add to his easygoing mood. He smiles, dropping a hand to pat the space next to him. "Come here."

You give in with a sigh, crossing the room and sitting at the foot of his bed. He reaches forward, briefly squeezing your shoulder before returning to work on his shirt. It's hard to watch him stumble through undoing a single button, just to have to start the process all over again.

You pull your legs onto the bed, turning to fully face him. Your knee is pressed against his thigh.

"Lovie," he hums, as if your presence is some kind of revelation.

"Felix." He grins, hands releasing his shirt in favor of trying to grasp your arm. "Wait--" His fingers wrap around your wrist. "I'm--trying--" He pulls your hand towards him, placing a kiss against your knuckles. You laugh. "I'm trying to help you."

He tugs on your arm. His pull isn't harsh, but the unexpectedness of it paired with your buzz makes it enough to throw off your balance. Your freehand presses against the mattress in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Felix laughs, tugging on you again.

Fighting your own fit of giggles, you instinctually push yourself onto your knees in an attempt to regain some control. Felix gives you a second to find your footing. You gently pull his hand off of your forearm and set it on his lap. He frowns.

You extend your arms, placing your hands on his shoulders. Part of the reason for it is to help keep you stable, the rest of it is to keep him focused. He looks up at you, eyes pools of hesitant affection. "Stay still."

He lets you reach for his shirt. "Y'don't have to, I'm okay."

Shrugging, you continue to work at unclasping his buttons. "It's okay, I like helping you."

You unbutton the few buttons that are left. "Better?" Felix nods. "I'll get you a pajama shirt."

Before you can get far, Felix grabs your hand. "We're..." He focuses on bending and straightening your fingers. "Good, right?"

There's something soft about the question, almost shy. "Yeah." He turns over your palm, tracing the lines etched into your skin. "Of course we're good." You adjust, crossing your legs beneath you to sit down.

"Honestly, I was thinking about it, and part of the reason I was upset is because..." This is harder to admit than you thought it'd be. "You seemed really okay without me, and that--I don't know. It's dumb, because I really do want you to be happy, but it made me feel a little replaceable, I guess."

"What?"

You sigh, dropping your attention to your intertwined hands. "I know, I said it was dumb." You pause, eyes darting up to look at him. His expression isn't judgmental or like he needs space. You can't fully read his expression, but nothing about the way he's looking at you feels unkind. "I only mentioned it to be honest, I don't like the idea of keeping se--"

He pulls on your arm again, this time his hold a little firmer. You're closer now. Felix's other hand finds your hip, anchoring you in place. You're too confused to do anything but blink at him.

Felix lets go of your arm, fingers finding their way beneath your chin. He angles your head so that all of your attention is on him. Your lips part, a half thought out question is on the tip of your tongue when Felix leans towards you. His lips meet yours.

You're still, shock and something a lot more electric rendering you in capable of anything else. This isn't the first time Felix has pressed his lips against yours. He's affectionate, especially when drinking is involved. He'll brush his lips against yours after taking a shot together, or just because at the end of a long night. It's not an everyday thing, but it's happened from time to time.

This--this isn't that. He's lingering, lips parting so that his teeth can graze against your bottom lip. Felix pulls away just enough to look you in the eye. His thumb brushes across your cheek.

"You're my best friend." Felix's words are so urging, so pleading you nod before you can think. "Best mate. You're the--the only one that gets me. Really gets me." His hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you back to him.

Any sense of hesitance vanishes the second time he kisses you. He's all consuming, lips dragging against yours with a desperate patience that's dizzying. It's disorientating, the desire to be that much closer to someone when there's no way to get there.

Felix's hand finds your back. He pushes you towards him. There's no good way to oblige. You try anyway, shifting your weight back onto your knees. Felix pulls you forward by your waist. You're too focused on him to realize what's happening until you're on his lap.

He takes his time letting you go, teeth tugging on your bottom lip. "I trust you more than anyone." Felix leans back in, placing a quick kiss against your lips. "You're not replaceable." He squeezes your shoulder. "You know that, right?"

Still breathless, you nod. He's watching you with so much patience, so much care it's almost hard to bare.

His thumb smooths circles against your shoulder. "Let's go to bed, yeah?"

You lift his hand off your thigh to press a kiss against the back of his palm. "Yeah, lets go to bed."

He squeezes your shoulder once before letting you go. You move off of his lap carefully.

Felix sits up enough to push his shirt off of his shoulders. Your eyes instinctually fall to his sheets. "Do you want me to get you a shirt?"

"Why? Distracted?"

You roll your eyes in an attempt to the fact that you are struggling to look at him. "Shut up."

He grins as he pulls back his sheets. "M'okay." You take the opportunity to slip beneath the layers of fabric. Felix waits until you're settled to crawl beneath the sheets. "It's warm enough, even with you stealing my blankets."

"I do not," the sentence is more of a mock gasp than anything else. Felix shifts onto his side before collapsing his weight on you. "Felix."

"What?" He rests his cheek against your chest. "This is the only way to keep you from taking my sheets."

You sigh, feigning annoyance as your fingers find his hair. "Rude. I'm a great bed sharer."

Felix lets out a partial laugh against the side of your neck. His hand finds your hip. "You are pretty great."

Your hand trails down towards his back, nails grazing against the bare skin. "You are, too."

Silence stretches between the two of you for so long you assume that he's already fallen asleep. Felix has a talent for drifting off in the blink of an eye.

"Lovie?" He whispers the term so lowly you almost convince yourself the sound is a figment of your imagination.

"Yeah?"

You can feel the shift in his breathing. "It's you and me--just you and me, when it comes down to it." His thumb brushes up and down your side. "You know that."

He relaxes as your fingers trail down the start of his spine. "Yeah. Of course I know that." A part of you feels naive for believing his words so easily. He's too adored to just be your Felix at the end of the day, and yet-- "Just you and me."

Felix leaves an open mouthed kiss against collarbone. It's the kind of warm that leaves goosebumps breaking out everywhere the contact can't be felt. "Good."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

[cozy-writes-things]

Reader x Edgar

Edgar is sick with a virus or something and reader has to take care of him.

Arg I’m so sorry this one is so darn short! I just really wanted to get a fic out today. I’m hoping i can get a better one out later this evening. Thanks for the request!! :>

In which Edgar gets a virus trying to suspiciously earn money for you on the internet… he’s not gonna tell you what he was doing. But it was probably a scam anyway. Poor fella 🥺

“Edgar,” you sighed, already exasperated at the sight before you. “What did I tell you about going on those websites? The internet is not the same as it used to be,” you scolded him gently, running your hands along his hot plastic.

He seemed hotter than usual, almost flushed. His fans had long since kicked into overdrive to accommodate his overclocked components, and his screen fizzled in and out with burning pixels. If you were honest with yourself, you were quite worried for him. Modern-day computers can get bricked with viruses quite easily, so an old 80s computer seemed like quite the disadvantaged target to you. Luckily, at the very least, modern computers weren’t equipped with a sentience that could drive the virus away through any means necessary. He just needed time.

“I’m sorry,” his speakers croaked and glitched as he nearly whispered. “I just wanted to help.” His synthesized voice nearly died on his metaphorical tongue as it sputtered out. Your eyes softened.

He seemed so genuine in his words and actions that you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with warmth for him. He sat, somehow looking disheveled despite his immobility, on your little desk, peering up at you with guilt and sick-ridden eyes.

“I know you did, Ed. But you already help me enough as is—”

“But you need money, and—and I need to provide for you, don’t I?”

A puff of air escaped your nostrils.

“Well, who told you that?”

He paused for a moment. It seemed his overworked internals were causing some lag, as his replies seemed to take a bit longer than usual.

“They provide for each other,” he muttered out. Perhaps the virus was affecting his mental state more than you realized. “We live together, we care for each other, and—dual income—”

A spike of anxiety traveled through your chest, tightening it, before releasing down your spine. This can’t be good; he’s speaking in gibberish. What the hell had he downloaded?

“We’re married.”

Oh, God.

“Okay, Edgar, I’m about to power you down to let you cool off because you’re freaking me out.”

“No! No. No—why would you do that to your husband?”

His words glitched and drawled on, almost sounding drunk or perhaps delirious. It seems he can’t really form a completely coherent thought due to whatever virus he’s got taking most of his processing power. Who knows what kind of havoc it could be wreaking on his files? You know for a fact he stores some quite personal information in that head of his. You can only hope he’s fighting it off well enough. Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do, seeing as you’re absolutely terrified of potentially resetting him and… you can’t even bear to think of it. You aren’t sure just how permanent his sentience is; if one little thing happened that caused him to be gone forever, you’d never forgive yourself.

“Don’t—cry—my love? Love.”

It seems he noticed the tears brimming in your eyes before you did. Stop this, you have to be strong for him, dammit.

“Edgar, you’re really hot.” You placed a hand upon his casing once again, it nearly scalding you.

“I know… you are too.”

You steeled yourself to ignore him.

“Should—should I try and stick you in the fridge? I don’t know what to do, Edgar! I can’t lose you.” The hot, brimming tears finally fell from your eyes and landed on his keyboard. His speakers made a crackling sound.

“I’m—fine. Just—hug me? Please.”

You knit your brows together.

“Edgar, you’re clearly not fine, and I’m really worried.”

“Shhhh—I’m okay—the virus will be gone by tomorrow. Promise. I just—need—you. Close.”

You sighed. You had to trust him. That’s all you really could do. You wrapped your arms around his monitor and heaved him towards your couch. He had long since been unplugged; the virus had caused him to uncontrollably flicker the lights, start the microwave, and blare music through your speakers, and just about everything else.

You wrapped his cord around your fingers as you rested against his monitor. He hummed contentedly at your warmth. He sat, listening to your breathing, reeling himself in and becoming grounded next to you. You had some uncanny effect on him, it seemed. He’d get better. Just for you.

[bigball-thefrog]

Hello, just wanted to say that i enjoyed your last two fics, they’re pretty cool! Could you maybe do another Law fic? Perhaps maybe the reader was also taken in by the donxitoute (I fs spelt that wrong)family at a young age just like Law was when he was younger. And like obviously Law and the reader grew up together with the donxitoute family, like they became close and eventually developed crushes on one another. But Corazón wasn’t able to take the reader on time because Doflamanigo never kept his eyes away from her because she had this really strong devil fruit. Then when years go by obviously Law and the Reader are older but she’s still in the family and became an executive. Obviously she doesn’t stand what Doffy does and wants to betray him just like Viola but she doesn’t have an opening due to how valuable she is to him. And Doflamingo always has her by his side. Maybe when Law teams up with the strawhats, he mentions her and how he needs to help her and get out of there. This would probably take place a bit in the end of Punk Hazard and through Dressrosa. (Also it would be cool if the reader and Viola were close friends). You can turn this into a series because i think that would be cool.

Hello hello hello!!! Thank you for the request sorry it took me so long to reply to you. As I said in a different post, I had started my exams, and I am finished now so I'm catching up on my requests. Sorry for being late and I hope it is to your liking

Warnings/Tags:

Law X Fem!Reader

Dressrosa and end of Punk Hazzard spoilers

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Narrator POV

Like the other kids, you were orphaned and left to die. You came across the Donquixote family, and despite being thrown away (literally) by Corazon, you were stubborn and kept coming back. Then one day Doflamingo discovered your Devilfruit ability (you decide what it is) and thought of how useful it would be, and soon you were a valued member of the family.

Eventually Law came along and when he was eventually accepted into the family, you were curious. He was always cold or angry and tried to keep to himself all the time, but you made sure that never happened. You'd always stick together, almost hunt him down at times, always speaking, always trying to get him to play when you weren't busy. He hated it, he hated you'd never leave him alone or shut up, no matter what you did he'd never lighten up or let you get close... But of course, you eventually did get close, really close actually, as tike went by on the Doflamingo pirates you both became close, inseparable even, you won were a team that fought side by side. But as of recently Law's disease was getting worse and he was slowly dying. You begged and begged Doflamingo to take him to a doctor but there was nothing he could do. You knew Law's time was getting short, that's why you became extra clingy. Wanting to spend as much time as you could together, but one day he just disappeared, with Corazon.. You were heartbroken that they suddenly disappeared, your best friend, and your first crush, gone.

Time went by and you did your best to forget about him. Then one night you stopped at a snowy island, for some reason Doflamingo never let you leave the ship. You wanted to complain but you knew better than question him, so you stayed put. Once you saw Doflamingo trapped the island with his strings you knew something was really wrong. When everyone came back, you ran up to Doflamingo to ask what had happened but something seemed wrong with him, like he was on the verge of snapping at anyone that got too close. So you decided to wait for him to calm down before asking. When he eventually did lighten up, which took much longer than you thought, he told you everything about what Law and Corazon did, and everything changed for you. You started to hate Doflamingo and grew colder towards him, and when he took over Dressrosa those feelings doubled down, but you knew that no matter how much you hated him now, there was no way to leave without dying...

One good that came from the takeover of Dressrosa was meeting Viola, you both quickly became close on your shared hatred for Doflamingo, so at least you had a close friend again.

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

~Now~

You were called to speak with Doflamingo, he stood by an open window, seeming tense, "Doflamingo? You wanted to speak?" He turned to you, a small scowl on his face, "You've been under my direct command and my command only since you've joined, right?" He asked, you nodded. "And you'd never betray me... Right?" He asked, the threat clear in his tone, you froze for a second but nodded. "Good... Congratulations, you've now been promoted to one of my executives, you're taking Vergo's place" you looked at him shocked confused, "But what happened? Why am I replacing Vergo??" Doflamingo only scowled, it was a similar to the scowl he had when he killed Corazon. "Did something happen at Punk Hazzard?" "Yes" "Monette too?" He stayed silent this time which told you everything you needed to know, "Was it?..." "Law..." He said. Your heart raced at hearing that name again after all these years, you'd seem him in the newspapers once or twice, but you didn't know what he was like now, a part of you still missed him, but it wasn't time for that now. "Alright, I'll accept Vergo's place," You said. Doflamingo stood on the open windowsill, "Good. I'm going to he gone for a bit, you make sure nothing goes to shit while I'm out..." And he left. You knew that if Law was in Punk Hazzard that he'd probably come to Dressrosa soon, you weren't sure if you were mentally ready for that, but you knew that it didn't matter because you'd have to confront him soon, and you knew when he was here, you had an important choice to make...

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

Law POV

I was currently in the kitchen of the All Sunny with the rest of Strawhats, telling them my plans for what was going to happen in Dressrosa. As I talked about the plan, but an idea popped in my head and I mumbled out the name of someone I hadn't thought about in years. "Who's that?" Luffy asked, "An... An old Friend." I muttered out, "They were someone I was close to when I was still in Doflamingos crew. They had a powerful Devilfruit ability that could help us save Dressrosa. But they're constantly under the watch of Doflamingo or one of the other executives.. But, I left her alone all those years ago, and it would kill me to leave her again... I need to save her..." I gripped the table as I thought about how I had to leave and couldn't take her with me, I left her, alone and in the clutches of that bastard Doflamingo. Luffy just flashed his signature smile, "Well if she's a friend of yours, she's a friend of mine. Well save her Tra-guy!" I scowled at the nickname, but a sense of relief washed over me and I looked towards the direction Dressrosa was, "Don't worry, I'll save you this time, and I'll never leave you again, my dear friend."

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Alright, this is the first of a few that I will be posting today so I'll be back real soon after I finish writing the next request, see you in probably a hour

Kelly🐸

[catsushinyakajima]

I’m sitting by a trash can at the bus stop waiting for the bus for the past TWENTY minutes and I am also late to class (my own fault for going to the gym instead of heading to class early :/) SO ANYWAYS-

Voltron headcanons (realistic and college AU, also inspired by my own college misery):

- they’re all stem nerds. All of them. I know a lot of people HC them as liberal arts major which is great! but they are canonically astronauts (one part of canon that I like)

- Lance would be the kind of guy to be like “WE GOTTA HIT THE GYM EVERYDAY THIS SEMESTER RAHHHH” and then dip the second midterms start. Every single semester. Without fail.

- Keith found lectures useless since he could just “read the textbook”. He never showed up to a single class except for exams and somehow passed. He only stopped the habit when multiple friends scolded him for it.

- Coran would be in twenty different clubs. Correction: he would be PRESIDENT of twenty different clubs. No one knows when he joined them. The clubs range from archery to competitive coding to mental health awareness. (“Hey Coran are u free tonight?” “No sorry, the Roleplaying Ancient Romans club is having a bake sale tonight” “the what-)

- hunk would do a LOT of volunteering. He’s probably cook for shelters but I can also see him tutoring underprivileged kids in engineering :)

- Pidge would have a surprising amount of school spirit. Not bc she likes the college or the sport. She just wants to hate on the other teams. Also if her tuition is going to the football coach’s salary, she might as well be passionate about it.

- Allura is a triple major. Maybe even a quadruple major?? She’s the girl you see constantly stressing about their schedule. “Okay so should I take this class…that makes me have eight classes total all back to back” “WHAT” “what if I did a minor in psychology?” “Allura how tf are you going to fit that in there”

- Shiro is a TA (teaching assistant) for calculus or physics or something. Because the world hates him it’s an eight am class where the professor teaches wrong content and then dumps twenty hours of grading on him. “So you find the derivative under the curve” “Professor that’s not-“ You will never see him without a coffee.

- Hunk has beef with the Dining halls. They don’t season their food and they don’t even have much to begin with. On the other hand, Lance practically lives there. He’s making the most of the meal plans he paid for.

- At least he sticks to tastier things. Keith, who also practically lives at the dining hall, will eat salt and pepper chicken four times a day (“it’s protein”)

- it’s how Keith and Lance have had most of their meals together. Notably, also alone.

- aside from living at the dining hall, Keith also lives at the gym. This explains why he’s never at class.

- pidge has a car on campus. It’s Matt’s car or whatever. Not only can she not park for her life, she also can’t stop getting parking tickets. She uses the tickets as wall decor for her dorm.

- Lance skateboards. He’s pretty good at it. He’s only fallen twice, and both times had been in extremely public settings. Once was in front of a bus stop with fifty people. He tried teaching Coran how to skate and Coran accidentally slipped and launched the board towards the main road.

- Pidge plays clash royale in class. Shiro roasts her for it but then secretly also plays word games in class

- on top of having four majors, Allura also has four internships??? Everytime she posts about something that seems relaxing, it’s misleading. She’ll post herself getting drinks and SIKE it’s a networking event. She’ll be going hiking SIKE it’s a colleague bonding trip. Girl cannot take a break.

- Keith hates frats. Even educational ones with job opportunities. Even if he knows all frat boys aren’t shitty, he refuses to budge on his stance

- Shiro is the kind of guy you’d be talking to and ten people come up to him to say hi. Everyone knows him. Even if he doesn’t know them.

[sociopathicartist]

This was 100% indulgent by me and not requested (which is why it came out off schedule lol). I know I usually write for classic Sans, but along with Horrortale, Dreamtale is and always has been one of my favorite AUs, so I wanted to write something for Nightmare. Hope you guys enjoy this unexpected work :3

DREAMTALE - Nightmare Romantic Headcanons (indulgent with you as his lover)

Dreamtale is an extremely complex story with extremely complex characters that I have been figuring out for the past several years, trying to get my hands on the most canonical information about Dream and Nightmare and the story itself, especially with how muddled their characters have become within the fandom. If you like the stories where Nightmare is soft and cooing and Dream is a bully and is toxic, then this probably won't be an enjoyable read, but as all of my followers know, I always try my best to stick to how the characters canonically act. I could ramble on and on about this AU in particular and about how misunderstood both Dream and Nightmare are, but that’s something I’d only do if my opinions on it were requested since it would be an extremely long ramble.

The background for these headcanons can be whatever you wish, but just know that behind these it’s implied that you’re being forced to stay with Nightmare (you’re a bit silly like me if you’d ever willingly stay with him.)

DATES / ROMANCE

- While I do love the romantic aspects that Nightmare himself can be implied to have, I mean the setup is perfect for romance (beautiful dark castle, dark, brooding character, etc), I just don’t see him wasting his time being romantic.

- The exception is that he is a manipulator, and will do/say things that don’t seem in character at all for him so that he can win you over and make you believe that somewhere in there he is good and that he can change (it’s never gonna happen, baby), but I don’t see him doing these things without ulterior motives.

- Maybe he’s noticed that you don’t seem to be as keen on him as you usually would be, that his unloving and harsh personality is beginning to take a toll on you and you’re no longer seeking him out as much as you used to, so what better to do than make you think that he, you know, cares?

- Anytime he takes you out on a date to cozy you back up to his side and make you think he cares about you, it’s always with the intention of keeping you on the borderline of hating him and being obsessed with wanting his affection and love.

- Now, that doesn’t mean that the dates aren’t romantic or that they’re horrible dates. Just because I don’t think he’s romantic himself (he’s too selfish IMO) doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know how to do romantic things. After all, if the dates he took you on sucked then you probably wouldn’t fall for him again like you always do.

- Sometimes when he’s hurt your feelings after he threw something at you, or you both got into an argument (good luck), he’ll do something easier, something lower effort to get you out of your bedroom and stop ignoring him and his servants like you have for the past several hours.

- Coffee shops are something he’s learned you like, and of course, there are selfish reasons to it, because he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t love coffee. Cafes and Library dates are almost always his go-to whenever you’re so upset with him that you shut him out completely and lock yourself away in your room. While he doesn’t enjoy said dates very much (he’s fonder of reading new books and coffee, that’s it), he has to do them so that you’ll finally warm up to him again. How else can he keep tearing you down if you’re just always at your lowest? It would make you emotionally numb at some point.

- He did take you to FluffyTale once to where CCINO Sans works (you had no clue what was going on, and when you saw the look on CCINO’s face when he saw Nightmare, you knew it was nothing good). Why he did do that? Not sure. But it happened.

- For more extreme cases where he’s hurt you in a flash of anger (surprisingly he doesn’t do that too much to you, he may be annoyed 24/7 and may be a bitch but he does have good control over his emotions and the backlash for hurting you physically isn’t worth it with the recovery in his opinion), he does more caring things to get you to believe that he’s finally changed, even if just a bit, and that it’s not going to happen again.

- Of course, he doesn’t tell you that he’s sorry, and he doesn’t tell you that he won’t hurt you again. Nightmare never lies, only conceals the truth (canon btw), so you won’t hear mele promises from him. It’s exactly why he has to put more effort into actions sometimes.

- In the extreme case where he has physically hurt you, whether he slammed you against a wall or knocked you down to the ground, he does give you time to gather yourself in your room until you’re ready to come out, unlike how he pesters you when you both just argue. Not only does letting you waller in your self-pity for hours benefit him and his love for feeding off of your negative emotions, but it does give you time to think and calm down, which he needs you to do for him to be able to worm his way back into your mind.

- After being locked away for hours and examining any bruises you got from him when you’re finally ready to come out and find him, he’s gotten you roses (one of the only flowers he doesn’t hate, it matches the aesthetic with his castle.) and has set up a nice dinner with your favorite food, letting you indulge in the rarer evenings that are so nice that they almost let you forget about all of the tears you cried and all of the lingering pain he put you through.

SLOW DAYS

- Nightmare is someone extremely difficult to just relax with and bond with.

- HOWEVER

- His canon personality is not all ‘grrr i hate you grr im gonna beat the shit out of you and kill everyone you love’ because while he does have his moments, don’t think I’m saying he doesn’t, he just isn’t horrible 100% of the time.

- We know for a fact (sourced by Q&A’s and comics from JOKU) that Nightmare does have indulgent hobbies that PassiveNightmare used to have, like how he reads sometimes, and just also sourced from the same things, he isn’t angry a lot of the time. Or… He doesn’t show it. He’s manipulative, he’s extremely smart, and while he is annoyed almost all of the time, it’s not beneficial to his manipulative behaviors to show that 24/7.

- Plus, just because he’s annoyed doesn’t mean the man can’t sit there and relax with a good-ass book and some coffee.

- For whatever reason he’s keeping you locked up in the castle with him (I’m basing the reason off my a03 book with Nightmare, solely because I don't see why else he would bother keeping someone), as long as you don’t sit there and purposefully annoy him as Killer does, he doesn’t care if you want to sit in the same room as him.

- He’s described in books as busy all the time, and granted, I do love love love the idea of Nightmare being all hot doing paperwork at his desk and shit like that, but it just doesn’t make much sense to me. Like… He spreads negativity throughout universes and RARELY ever kills people, is he having to do paperwork over their hurt feelings or something?? This is no diss to those books because I love the concept of it and mmmmmm do I love an overworked Nightmare, but the idea when put into logical retrospect just doesn’t make much sense in my opinion.

- Therefore, since he’s literally been lounging around doing god knows what for 500+ years, I can see him having some boring and uneventful days in the castle.

- Since now you’re in the castle with him, it’s a bit easier to help pass the time with his ‘lover’ (he hates that word since he doesn’t and CANT love and hates any boyfriend/girlfriend label, it makes him feel too humane and in touch).

- You might just wake up and look for him after being served breakfast in your room like always, finding out that he’s in the castle today from one of his servants, and it’s always a straight shot guess of where he is.

- He doesn’t spend too much time in his bedroom. It’s a place that he only associates with sleep and changing clothes, and since he doesn’t need sleep to live, he just never really goes in there. You most likely won’t find him lurking in his bedroom at all.

- But the next best place where you can always find him is in his study or the library. Whenever he has the free time, you can’t recall seeing him without some sort of book in his hand. Sometimes he breaks free of the old habit and decides to write or drink some coffee while watching the rain pour down outside through his study window, but that isn’t as often.

- Surprisingly, he doesn’t typically turn down your company. Perhaps it’s for his selfish entertainment, or maybe he just finds you intriguing to talk to (I’d hope he did after going through the effort to kidnap you and keep you kidnapped), but if he notices you strolling into his study, still in your pajamas and sleepy from just waking up, he simply just has one of the servants outside the study room bring you some coffee or tea to drink while you sit down next to him to see what he’s reading.

BONDING / CONVERSATIONS

- In no means am I saying that Nightmare isn’t abusive, he is and would be in any sort of relationship (we see this firsthand with him and Ccino sans.), but he’s not too estranged to just conversate with.

- Usually, lazy days when he’s just staying in the castle and isn’t in a completely horrible and stressed mood are the days where you can talk with him best, like normal people.

- Sometimes he’ll tell you about the book he’s reading, and go into a long explanation about the entire story and plot without any pauses or breaks, just talking mindlessly to pass the time.

- Other times he tells you about the missions he’s planning on doing or has done, which he only tells you about because unless you’re on a date together, you never leave the castle. And even when on dates, you’re always stuck by his side and under his constant supervision, so there’s never any chance for you to blabber to anyone about what he tells you or for you to run.

- It was a huge shock to you at first with how conservative he can be, and how he can just talk and also listen in a normal, back-and-forth conversation, sometimes about absolutely nothing. You’d just never expect it from him, but even though he does not care about or love you by any means (just like how it is impossible for Dream to hate, it’s also impossible for Nightmare to love), if he’s kidnapped you in the castle to keep you as a romantic partner for some reason, he has some level of interest or obsession with you, so he’s more keen to just talking like normal with you compared to talking to other people, like Killer for one.

- As for bonding, most of your bonding is just during already discussed and elaborated lazy days around the castle or dates that only happened because he hurt you and needs you to warm up to him again. While you can fall in love and be as cooing to him as you’d like, Nightmare doesn’t experience the bonding you do since he doesn’t feel love. He views quality time as a way to learn more about his fixation on you.

LIVING IN THE CASTLE

(last one for now!! i could just KEEEEP writing about this, but i wanna save it for other headcanons with him in the future.)

- You live a pretty lavish life in the castle, I’m ngl.

- I’ve said it SOSOSO many times, and I’m gonna say it again, Nightmare is extremely manipulative. Thus, he allows your every need in the castle to be taken care of and makes sure that your bedroom is just the way you like it, and that you have anything you could want there.

- Having you be so comfortable in the castle and enjoy your life there makes it indefinitely easier for Nightmare to tear your little heart into pieces. It’s so easy to do when your upset mood is constantly distracted by how good of a life you have there (mostly, save for Nightmare being a bitch) and it just makes it easier for him to hurt your feelings and feed off your negative emotions.

- To elaborate, if you lived a horrible life in the castle and he kept you locked away in some dungeon cell without any freedom to roam the castle, kept you in the same clothes you showed up in, and only gave you water and bread crusts for dinner, it would be very difficult to prevent you from going emotionally numb.

- There’s only so much distress one can take before shutting down, and if he wants to keep hurting you over and over again, it would be very hard to do so when you’re always at your lowest due to your living conditions in the castle.

- Having you live a lavish life with all the physical comforts (except his LMFAO) you could want keeps your mood boosted easier, and allows you to recover quicker from his emotional abuse. When you easily go back to being happy and forgiving him due to your luxury of being able to take walks in the garden by yourself, take a hot bath, and drink some nice tea, it only makes it to where he has to do less work to manipulate your emotions. He can do all of the cheering up indirectly (other than taking you out on dates when he’s super super mean to you) and just let himself indulge in the privilege of hurting you again.

- So, yeah. When it comes to living in the castle you’re pretty much set up for life, living like basically royalty. The only difficult part that always tears you down to earth is whenever Nightmare decides to mess you up again.

There's my short ramble!

I said short, this was a long headcanon list, but it’s short to me when I compare it with how much more I could have written. I’m on a dreamtale crave right now since it has been one of my favorite au’s for a long time, and writing my a03 book with nightmare and dream has sparked the writing love for it again, so if anyone wants any requests for dream and nightmare I will take those up asap along with my others!

Thanks for reading!!

NIGHTMARE AND DREAMTALE BELONG TO JOKUBLOG!!

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Jealousy Jealousy

Nanami x Sorcerer!Reader

Based on this post. This’ll be a long one. Nanami is slightly OOC.

When a new face arrives at Jujutsu Tech in the wake of the Tokyo v Kyoto affair, Nanami cannot help but to feel wary of him. And why do you seem so close to him? Just who is this guy?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。✫・。.・゜ ✭・.

Jujutsu Tech has never had a dull day. Especially not with Gojo around. He was back from his long standing mission and Nanami couldn’t believe how amazing 8 days go by. Honestly, Nanami enjoyed every second of it. But Gojo had to come back eventually and Nanami was once again, considering if this was really the life he wanted to stick with. He took the initiative to come in a bit earlier than usual and yet, You and Gojo insist on speaking loudly, and extensively, about whatever escapades Gojo got up to while he was gone.

Right in front of Nanami’s coffee.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not while Itadori needed him. Not while there were lives to save. You two however, always found a way to push him towards the edge though. Gojo was something he had come to be acquainted with, but you, Grade 1 Sorcerer (Y/N) (L/N), found a very special way to get to him.

“If I would marry anyone, it would probably be Nanami-San!”

That was the last thing you said to him before graduating all those years ago and even now you’ve stuck to it. Nanami cannot remember a single conversation in which you haven’t flirted with him or expressed the desire to marry him. And everytime he shuts you down and everytime you smile and say, “I’ll wait as long as you need me to!”

That’s not to say speaking to you was a chore. Once you get over the obligatory flirty comment, you are quite easy to have a conversation with. You aren’t pushy or handsy with him. You didn’t make any sexual or inappropriate jokes. If he asked you to not bother him, you wouldn’t. Still he couldn’t shake that annoying feeling he got when coming near you. He thought, maybe your proximity to Gojo is what makes you annoyed. That had to be it. Nanami didn’t have time to think about that, it was 8am and he was officially on the clock.

“Good morning Nanami, you look as handsome as ever.” You smiled as you poured a cup of coffee. The twinge of annoyance subsided as Nanami put the newspaper down on the table.

“Good morning (L/N).” In quick and precise movements, Nanami stood and walked towards the door.

“Why does he treat you nicer than me?” Gojo's whining voice became distant as Nanami disappeared down the hall.

Nanami didn’t actually have anywhere to be, Yuuji wasn’t due for their training until noon but it was so much better than hearing about whatever You and Gojo were talking about. 3 years had passed since you returned to Tokyo and you fell back into his life so seamlessly. You two weren’t close but you were one of his nicer upperclassmen. Nanami didn’t even notice how much you consumed his thoughts until he was stopped by Yaga.

“Oh good, Nanami-san.” Behind Yaga stood a tall man, a little shorter than Nanami, with shaggy hair and dark eyes. Yaga turned towards him, implying him to step forward. The man let out an awkward chuckle and stuck his hand out.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Hasegawa Ryosuke.”

Nanami shook the man’s hand and introduced himself. Yaga spoke again, “Would you mind giving Hasegawa a tour of the school? I’d like to have him familiar before the students start class.”

“Sorry about this, I went to the Kyoto school and only recently came back to Japan.” Hasegawa chuckled.

As Nanami agreed, Yaga excused himself. Hasegawa assured Nanami he wouldn’t need an in depth tour, anything quick would do just fine. “To tell you the truth, I never lived in Tokyo so I got a little confused and was late.”

He was a sort of awkward man. He dresses casually and ends every sentence in a nervous laugh. Nanami could tell that he was powerful though, probably a Grade 1. He followed quietly, sparingly asking questions or inquiring about the school. By the time they finished in the courtyard the students were already arriving for their morning classes. Yuuji excitedly called out to Nanami, who greeted him, Fushiguro and Nobara as well.

“Who’s this?” Yuuji asked.

“I’m just a guest, I’m Hasegawa.” He said suddenly a bit calmer. Almost calculated. Nanami didn’t think too much of it. Many sorcerers were still iffy surrounding Yuuji and his circumstance. The sudden edge wasn’t lost on any of them as Hasegawa’s demeanor shifted back to the one he had before. “I went to Kyoto, Tokyo is always so busy.”

“Yeah it is,” Yuuji replied. Nanami cleared his throat, they both noticed that Nobara and Fushiguro also seemed to passively turn towards Hasegawa. As if they were guarding Yuuji.

“Itadori, you shouldn’t be late for class.” Nanami stated.

“We won’t be,” Yuuji called back as Nobara started to pull him and Fushiguro along. Before they could leave the courtyard a loud shriek broke out from the school.

“RYOSUKE!” (Y/N) suddenly came running out. They jumped into Hasegawa’s arms and he spun them around. “What are you doing here?!”

“I came to visit.” He laughed, still holding them up.

“And you didn’t tell me!” (Y/N) playfully hit his shoulders. They once again pull him close for a hug before Hasegawa sets them down. “Do you hate me now Ryo?”

“Hate you? The light of my life? Never.” Hasegawa grinned.

“And yet, you never call me? How am I supposed to trust you Ryo?”

“We could go get ice cream?”

“Ice Cream? Are we teenagers again?”

“I always feel so young with you (Y/N).”

“And here you go, trying to flatter me again. I’m not that easy.” You laughed as a deep blush crept across your face. Nanami felt a sudden pressure build up, like he was entirely separate from whatever world you and Hasegawa were existing in. Awkwardly standing less than three feet away from you both yet it felt like miles. The distance between you two has never been this noticeable to him before. You always felt close. Like he could look over his shoulder and you’d always be there. How could it change so suddenly?

You finally noticed Nanami standing there, stoic as always. You idly turned your body towards him, “I see you've met Ryosuke.”

“Yes, I was showing him around.” Nanami replied plainly.

“Yeah, with everything going on recently, I thought it’d be best if I familiarize myself with the place.” He replied. And the mood shifted again. That same feeling he felt when Itadori was around. You didn’t seem to notice.

“So you're in Tokyo for some time then?” (Y/N) smiled, “Gojo and I go drinking sometimes, you should come.”

“We haven’t even planned our ice cream date and you're already trying to get me drunk? You move too fast for me (Y/N).” He smirked.

You lightly hit his shoulder and turned back to Nanami, “Ignore him, he’s always like this. Would you like to come to Nanami?”

In a surprising act Nanami accepted the invitation. This caught him and You off guard. You always invited him as a formality but never thought he would agree. He was just as shocked. Something however was pulling him towards the idea. Something about Hasegawa was too alarming to let You be alone with him. Especially if he would be hanging around Jujutsu Tech. This is not the kind of person Nanami would allow himself to be careless around.

You cheered, “Great! Gojo will text you the place, we’ll go around 7!” That familiar blush deepened and somehow soothed Nanami slightly. Your presence did have that effect however. Not just to him but to those around you. It made you a good fit for being around the students so much. No wonder they favored you over Gojo (though that wasn’t a high bar to reach).

“I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” Nanami replied and excused himself.

“Thanks for showing me around!” Hasegawa called out as Nanami stepped into the building. The weight of his decision suddenly hit him as he crossed the classroom and heard Gojo’s voice. Just what did he get himself into?

[crayonsquadlilac]

I had to scribble out his ending dialogue. I just couldn't lose this image i had in my head, of this poor charachter who tried his best still (for lack of a better word) dying, and not screaming or crying when it's happening but instead saying this and then gently apologizing, like it's his fault, and that's the last he ever says. I think this scene's gonna stick with me for a while.

I'm actually so sick about him like god like "I've wasted my whole life hiding, I think I should try saying hello." God. Me when the character is kind and well meaning and funny and silly and yet tragic by nature. Me when the character never gets the good ending they deserved (in a well written way.). What the Hell. God

Super Ultra Rambling under the readmore if you're curious about my elaborate Thoughts;

Ik is my favorite charachter because he is very silly and my best friend ever in the world but also because of the Tragedies. He's a person used to fear, a people pleaser, who let mr. Sob manipulate him and turn his hotel into something he never wanted, simply pretending it was still the same, who spends the whole game trying so hard to keep you in high spirits and unworried even when he himself is terrified. Someone who cares too much and tries so hard and probably never even gave nearly as much to himself as he did to others. Even at the end, as he describes to you all the horrors that unfolded on earth, he makes jokes and quips and keeps up his goofy manner of speaking despite the information clearly disturbing him.

When he tells you the story of his death, he never once mentions anything about how sad it is, and if you respond with "I'm sorry," he says like basically "oh it's fine," before hesitating with a concerned look on his face. His death may be something he avoids thinking about a lot.

And describing him, i can't help but relate to him, understand him, perhaps that's why I am so Insane about him right now.

I think this game is about, no matter what happens, at the end of it all it will still be the end. It may even end sooner than you'd expect. The human race before dying out solved all their problems and created a perfect world, Ik tried hard to do good and make people happy, Mr. Sob gained his own twisted control over many souls of the afterlife, you the player just kept going onward as much you could, but they all came to the same unceremonious end. I suppose it all matters on your perspective- do you focus on the ending, or how you got there?

When Ik tells you about his death, he describes how he saw the stars, and the view of his town from all the way high up, how he stopped and looked for a long time. But he couldn't stay forever, he had to keep moving. I think that's the part that mattered most. Even in so terrible a situation, he got something beautiful out of it. And like i guess part of the game is, "we can't stop what's coming, there's no use hiding, so we may as well face it with a smile and a greeting." Or maybe more like "the time will pass anyways" type of thing. If that makes sense.

I've seen some people interpret the Morning as everyone is brought to a final resting place peacefully. And of course, it's wide open for everyone to interpret it however, but for me personally I thiiiink Ik was probably right about it being the end of time. The thing seemed a little bit too obliterating-you-type-deal in the final cutscene. All the humans are dead and it's time for their afterlife to go too now. Maybe it's to make room for something that'll replace us, or to start over from scratch with everything, but for all the human souls, it's the end.

Maybe the sole survivor of all existence is Shrimp, in the afterlife, always running from the Morning, wandering for eternity. Which i say to be silly but also that would be really sad actually. He'd be alone... he'd get hungry and there'd be no one there to feed him lounge chairs and tables and glass vases..... poor shrimp..........

I don't know if it would have been better or worse if you could just find his abandoned collar on the ground somewhere before that last lantern. Probably worse actually. Yeah no I'm glad that's not a thing. I'm sorry for saying that.

But anyway, what a damn good game. I'm sad it didn't get more attention when it came out, it feels like such a passion project. I feel bad for only finding out it exists recently. I'll try my best with telling all my friends to play it too though. Cause like oh man. Good god. It made me laugh, it made me scared, and now it's made me cry, drawing and typing this post. It's a thinker. I love existential wonder in media, but this one is more like, existential indifference or something. but it doesn't feel cynical at all, i don't know. I like it a lot. Putting it right up there with my favorites.

also actually nevermind fuck all that noise good ending where the morning never comes and they just wander the woods forever together yippee wahoo!! who needs themes and messages and meanings !!!! when The Characters could be happy !!!!!!!

jtjfjfjdhdjskfskdkdsfdhdhsfjcjdhfhshsfhd everything is fine i am Fine definitely not Crying More why would you think that

[sheep-from-rad]

Spicy Imagines (ft. Alhaitham and Kaveh) Genshin x Reader 

Note: I had these ideas as separate fanfics but it was too short so I just made them into one. I would have published it earlier this week but I have fallen down the Alhaitham/Kaveh angst rabbit hole and wasn’t able to get up from it until this afternoon. Anyway, enjoy!~ Extra note (please read): I will be entering the big city soon meaning I will be leaving some of things here at home. I might not be able to go publish a fanfic for weeks and weeks because it will be a clinical internship. Still, I will try my hardest to make content!~ Warnings: spicy, mentions of bondage and toys XD <Masterlist 1> ------- <Masterlist 2>

Kaveh 

Being an architect and being named as the Light of Kshahrewar, being meticulous and having an eye for detail is something that Kaveh is very talented with. 

Whenever Alhaitham is out, he makes his merry way to make the shared house more ‘homey’. He’ll decorate it with paintings, with flowers, and with furniture, which sometimes lead to petty fights whenever the scribe is home. 

Having an eye for detail is probably one of the things why after one magnum opus, he found himself down in debt and still drowning in it. Well, it’s not like he can just make a building and that’s it right? 

He takes the habits of looking out for detail everywhere especially inside his room once the doors have closed and his roommate is out. 

Kaveh will take his time typing you up with the ribbons that he soaked in warm water beforehand, making sure that it won’t leave a mark on your skin. That after all is his job to do and not the ribbon’s job. 

He’ll fix the lights inside his room, making sure that it will show the awaiting flower fastened with ribbons on his bed. 

Kaveh is taking longer than usual. His eyes already darkened by the dim lit room looked like predatory glances at the corner of the room. His hands skillfully erased and redraw the lines in his sketchbook, taking notes of every detail present in front of him. It’s fascinating how he never seemed to miss any detail at all. From the ribbons that tie your thighs apart, to the sweat that drips from your neck down to your chest, to the way your eyes roll from every thrust the hand operated toy gives you, and to the wetness that pools and is slowly staining the sheets beneath you. 

It’s a shame that the paper and charcoal can’t capture your whines and pitiful whimpers but that’s for him to savor once he puts his sketchbook down. 

Alhaitham 

Theoretical and then practical. It is one unwritten law that every scholar learns once they enter the Akademiya. A lesson that became a practice to Alhaitham even after his days as a scholar. 

While it is a standard, it is not really something that should be done in everything. If it wasn’t for Kaveh noticing his attempts for courting and then for sure Alhaitham would still be spending his nights wide awake reading books about courting and planning the best possible scenario to make you say yes. 

Alhaitham was very vanilla behind closed doors. He’ll make sure that both of you are satisfied and properly cleaned every night you lay together. If he makes a mark that sure will bruise, he’ll look at the ice crates and make sure you’re treated properly before he can go to sleep so you won’t worry about covering anything when morning comes. 

It all comes to a stop when a tired student accidentally passes a folder with an erotic book instead of his thesis proposal. This man hates novels, he just reads them for the sake of reading and then forgets they exist afterwards. 

He’ll rather stick with boring and nonsensical drafts made by students than read a romance book but here he is spending his whole night trying to make sense of the book and a mind full of thoughts on how he could make use of the book. 

You wondered what happened. The best guess that he’s stressed out from the ‘junk’ that the scholars are passing on his desk. There was never a time where his office was clean and lucky for him the ceilings are high or else the room will really be flooded with papers by now. One particular harsh thrust pulled you out of your head evoking  a loud moan at the same time and knocking you off your hands and knees. 

“Oh god !” 

The said man only let out a miniscule smile as he continued the rough pace. “There is no god here darling, you’re calling the wrong being”, he said, emphasizing each word with a thrust. HE snaked his hands underneath your form, scooping you up from the sheets, before resting it on your throat. 

“You know my name right? Why don’t you call it that?” As he felt your heartbeat tripled in pace, Alhaitham mentally thanked the student that accidentally passed the book. Maybe he should consider their thesis proposal.

Taglist: @uchihaeirin @eccedentesiast-sapphic @tinandabin @chihawari

[sunlightandsuffering]

‘I lost my asshole friends in the club and you’re hot, help me’

Mikasa has in many occasions in her life as a young adult helped drunken partygoers get home. Friends, family members, acquaintances, strangers, you name it, she even once helped a lost dog get home on a particularly drunken Friday night. 

However, in her limited experience, she does not often help boys get home. 

They are a strange species, too macho to ask for help, and often knowing how to make their own way home, whether it be walking, or drunnkenly stumbling onto the bus. She rarely has to deal with the men in her life losing their faculties so completely that she has to get them home. No, when Mikasa plays mom in the club to her rag tag friend group, it is most often her girl friends who are the problem, namely Sasha. 

Tonight though, Sasha is remarkably well-behaved, sticking close to Connie instead and sharing his drinks instead of throwing back so many of her own. 

Mikasa had thought that maybe tonight would be a break, that she wouldn't be worrying about getting anyone else home.

So colour her surprised, when at 1:30 am, when all her friends are leaving, her the last out of the club, she bumps into the ultimate hot mess himself: Eren Yeager. Eren is hot, attractive in the kind of way most girls dream about, the big bad boy that’s going to sweep you off your feet, drop your panties and fuck you in the back alley before taking you home to cuddle in his bed, which probably doesn’t have a head board but does have a navy blue bedspread. She knows of Eren, has never met him personally, only seen him from afar in Armin’s pictures and too many drunken stories. Yet somehow, at the end of her night, he quite literally falls into her, and despite her own tall stature, it’s a miracle he doesn’t take them both to the floor. Only by the grace of god, her knee-high combat boots and the wall does she stop them from toppling to the floor. Eren on the other hand, deep dives right into the comfortable pillows of her cleavage, and as she catches her balance, one arm bracing them against the wall and the other, clutching his shoulders for support, Eren seems only too happy to be face-first in her tits. She colours bright pink at the thought, because it’s not just anyone diving for her breasts, it’s Eren fucking Yeager. 

“Hey,” she hisses, smacking him as she tries to tear them apart, “Those are my boobs jackass.” “And may I just say,” Eren mumbles, finally pulling himself from her chest, eyes glazed over with the effects of alcohol, “They are really fucking amazing, like seriously, you have great tits.” Mikasa genuinely doesn’t know what to say, because on one hand, wow, what a compliment and from Armin’s best friend the manwhore, it’s definitely high praise. But on the other hand, what the fuck? She settles for a glare and this seems to spark Eren’s brain into action, “Oh my god Mikasa! It’s you, Armin’s friend. Holy shit you’re prettier in person.” Mikasa bites down on her lip to contain her smile because shit, he knows who she is. “Yes, that would be me, what can I do for you Eren?” Eren beams at her, and why is his smile pretty, crooked in a way that’s too enticing, and the green of his eyes it’s fucking emerald sparkling, just like her mother’s wedding ring. 

The audacity of him to be so pretty in the middle of the night in the club when everyone else looks like trash and smells even worse, it’s just unfair really. 

“I umm, I saw you and I don’t know if you can tell but I’m a little more drunk than I’d like to be right now, and I took an edible about an hour ago and it’s realllllly starting to hit,” He tells her candidly, and as he says it she notices just how red his eyes are, and just how fucking out of it he looks, much perkier than she’d ever expect him to be. “But I saw you and I know who you are because Armin never shuts the fuck up about you and honestly, you’re stunning I would have definitely hit on you anyway, but I thought maybe you might be able to get me home.” He’s rambling now, but he very abruptly shuts up again as his eyes slide to her tits and Mikasa fights back a smile because wow she really is getting unfiltered Eren right now. 

“You want me to get you home?” Mikasa clarifies and Eren’s eyes dart up, a patented smirk overtaking his face as second nature kicks in, “To be honest I actually want to take you home, because I think together we would do truly great fucking things, but I think I’m too crossfaded to manage it.” 

Mikasa snorts as she calmly slips herself under his arm, her other wrapping around his waist to keep him steady, “You’re gonna hate yourself in the morning.” “Oh, I don’t doubt it, I’m killing my shot with Armin’s other best friend, and I’ve been waiting to make a move for a long ass time.” 

Mikasa barks out a laugh as she manoeuvres him out the door and past the bouncers who are watching them like hawks. They look suspicious of Eren and one even asks if she’s okay and Mikasa has to chuckle, she’s the one supporting him, she has no doubt he’s going to pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow. “I’m good,” She tells them wryly, before swinging Eren towards the intersection where most Ubers and cabs are picking people up. She sighs as she grabs for her phone, she’d really wanted to avoid fronting the uber bill tonight, but alas, that’s part of being the mom friend of the group. Eren smacks her hand away as soon as she opens the app. “Do it on my phone, it’s in my back pocket, you can put your address in to if you want, but you also don't have to, you could crash at my place."

She looks up at him, eyebrow quirked up, “Is that your really shitty way of telling my I can stay over.” He looks down at her affectionately, eyes sparkling with mirth and far too many substances, “If you want.” 

“I’ll think about it.” She doesn’t think about it, it’s not even a question. She only inputs one address into his phone, and it’s the one he tells her to. 

If he’s going to wake up tomorrow regretting shooting his shot with her, he’s going to do it with her in his bed so he can do it properly the second time around. They wait on the side of the street and Eren keep shooting her little glances, and tugging her closer under his arm, any excuse to touch and Mikasa can’t help but grin when he becomes fascinated with the curve of her waist. “You know, your skin is really soft, like so soft, you would make a great pillow.” 

“Thanks,” She responds wryly, and he nestles her in closer, his fingers lacing with her own where his arm is draped over her shoulder, “Especially your tits, really great pillow I know from personal experience.” “How are you so smooth right now? Genuinely I want to know,” Mikasa comments, looking up at him curiously. She has no doubt he really is high out of his mind, and too cross-faded to function, but seriously, how the fuck is he so suave right now? “I don’t know,” Eren tells her honestly, “I just think you have really great tits and I would personally love the opportunity to sleep on them later.” Mikasa giggles, full genuine laughter, “That’s all you want to do? Sleep on them?” “Of course, I would keep it perfectly appropriate, but preferably, your shirt would be off.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” “I’m not, I just get really chatty when I’m high, and you’re really pretty and I seriously cannot stop thinking about your rack, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry at all,” Mikasa teases him, helping him carefully towards the curb as their Uber pulls up.

Eren volleys right back, never missing a beat, “I’m not, not as long as you end up in my bed tonight without a shirt, as long as it gets me that I’m not sorry at all.” 

Getting Eren into the Uber is easier than she thought it would be, although he does seem quite reluctant to relinquish his hold on her waist, and seems very put out when they end up on opposite sides of the car, not even their thighs touching. She can’t suppress her smile when his eyes keep slipping to her cleavage, every few minutes like clockwork, he’ll look away, as if chastising himself. Then on cue, seconds later, his gaze is right back, eyes focused entirely on her breasts. Mikasa can’t say she’s too upset about it. 

When they arrive at his place Eren takes the lead, eager to get home now that he knows his surroundings. The car door is barely closed before he’s dragging her towards the apartment lobby. “Eren I was gonna get my own Uber–” “No you’re not, you’re sleeping in my bed, without a shirt,” He shoots her a downright mischievous glance as he clicks the button for the elevator, “Nothing is going to happen because I’m a gentleman, but Mikasa I will be using you as a pillow tonight, and you will like it.” He seems to think better of his sentence as the elevator doors open, looking back at her a little guiltily as he drags her inside, “That is unless you’re uncomfortable with it for any reason, in which case I will take the couch and I will be sad, but I will use a throw cushion.” 

Mikasa laughs again, because god is he fucking funny when he’s high, no traces of the serious playboy Armin always talks about, “You’re surprisingly eloquent you know.” “I’m always eloquent,” The words slip right off his tongue, “My mother was an English major and I don’t dick around when it comes to prose. Thus, my vocabulary is always fantastic.” 

Why is that hot, and why did he use ‘thus’ in a sentence? Who is this man? 

He grins at her, all teeth and it screams trouble. Yes, Mikasa is in trouble as they step out of the elevator and Eren leads her down the hall towards his apartment. Thankfully, he happens to have his keys on him because that would have been a true tragedy. The second they’re in his apartment, he kicks off his shoes, tugs off his shirt, and before she can say a word he’s speeding towards his bedroom. Eren doesn’t even bother to turn a light on, and Mikasa awkwardly follows him, toeing off her shoes and being careful to lock the door behind them. His apartment is very male, sparsely decorated and lit only by the light of the moon. There is a TV, a few plants and a comfortable looking sectional, but not much else. She slips down the hall awkwardly, wondering if she should linger or just let him knock himself out and pretend it never happened, tomorrow morning. But of course, that would mean losing her shot with Armin’s very hot other best friend who is clearly a little obsessed with her right back, and what fun would that be? 

Mikasa tiptoes towards the only open door in the hallway, what she can only assume is Eren’s bedroom. 

She finds him splayed out across the bed, his bedside table light on, and looking up at her expectantly. He’s somehow managed to change himself into a pair of sweats and nothing else, and yeah she was right, his sheets are navy blue. But nonetheless, his bed does look very comfy, the comforter exceptionally fluffy looking and probably nice and heavy, a great weight to sleep with on top of her. And to her immense surprise, he even has sheets, grey ones and they look fucking clean and isn’t that a turn on.

Eren beckons her from the corner of his large bed, crooking a finger towards her, and she goes willingly, stopping at the edge of the bed frame when he holds up his hand in a ‘stop’ motion. 

“Sorry, there’s a no shirt policy.” Mikasa stands in front of him, and without a second thought she strips her shirt off, mushes it up into a ball and then hurls it at Eren’s face with impressive accuracy. It lands with a satisfying thunk and Eren falls back to the mattress like he’s been mortally wounded. She takes off her pants too, choosing not to sleep in her jeans, before crawling into the bed. As Eren throws the shirt to the ground he has a pout on his face, and he looks decidedly unimpressed, “You’re still wearing a bra.”

Mikasa huffs, “You said nothing about a bra.” Now he’s being honest to god whiny, “Please?” 

Mikasa doesn’t really know why she relents. All she does know is that when he finally passes out, not five minutes later, it feels really fucking good to have Eren Yeager’s cheek pressed right against her breasts, his soft breaths fanning her nipple with every exhale. She’s more turned on than she’s ever been in her life, and she has no fucking idea how she’s going to fall asleep, especially not when his erection is so clearly pressed against her ass. 

She’s so fucked. But in the morning, when she wakes up to a much more sober Eren raining kisses over her chest, and those downright devious green eyes, she thinks she’s made the right choice. 

[gogobootz1]

Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Eddie Roundtree x Reader

Summary: Stress is starting to interfere with your sleep schedule. But a late-night encounter with a fellow member of The Six might just help you out.

A/N: It really bothers me that the show changed his last name, but I love this man so here you go

Word Count: 1k

The one thing you really couldn’t find yourself getting used to in LA was the heat. Dry, stifling, and never-ending, it made you miserable. After spending nearly your whole life in cold, dreary Pittsburgh, you were more than struggling to make the adjustment.

The cheap ass house Billy had rented didn’t help things, either. Among its flaws, the lack of air conditioning is at the top of your list. And it’s why you can’t seem to stop tossing and turning. No matter which limbs you stick out from under your blankets, it’s not enough to cool you down. The windows you opened two hours ago aren’t helping either. Growing tired of trying to sleep, you throw the covers off of yourself and sit up.

At the very least, some water should be able to help.

You huff and make your way downstairs, paying no mind to the time. Grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet, you let the door swing shut. Once you’ve sipped on your tap water for a bit, you decide a snack might help too.

Still holding your cup in one hand, you start rummaging through the fridge with the other.

Leftovers were clearly out. As delicious as Camila’s lasagna was two nights ago, you didn’t want to bother heating anything up. Not to mention that Warren would probably want it for breakfast. Billy specifically said that the apples he bought were off-limits, but you aren’t necessarily opposed to pissing him off. You are, however, concerned about his taste. He probably got red delicious or Jonathan or something equally as gross, so you can't have that. Finally, you strike gold. The deli drawer. At least one Dunne brother has your back. Graham made a B-line for the deli counter on your grocery trip the other day.

You snag two slices of cheese out of the packet and start eating them while looking to see if the fridge has anything else to offer.

"Are you eating deli meat straight from the fridge at 2 AM?"

You whip around to find Eddie staring at you expectantly. For a second, you're like a deer in headlights. Caught red-handed, standing by the evidence. You swallow the final bite of cheese you were working on.

"No."

He makes a face that tells you he is not at all buying it.

"It was cheese," you mumble. Quietly, you continue, "why are you in here anyway, Edward?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe to see who was making all that noise?" He shrugs angrily. For the first time, you take note of his pajamas. The blue and green plaid really compliments the white Rolling Stones shirt he's got on. His hair's all tussled, probably because he was just sleeping.

"Shit, I woke you up, didn't I?" You whisper, internally kicking yourself. The fridge closes behind you as you take a seat at the kitchen table. You rest your head in your hands. "I'm really sorry, Eddie."

The sincerity in your voice takes him off guard. Typically your relationship is characterized by bickering and teasing and sticking your tongues out at each other like when you were little. This is a rare moment of vulnerability for you.

Eddie takes the seat across from you at the table. "What are you doing up in the first place?" He asks gently.

"I'm too hot," you complain.

"Sure are," he nods, and you kick him. "OW! Jesus, I was joking."

You sigh again, guiltily, "sorry."

"Cranky much," he rubs at his knee, "did you get any sleep at all?"

"No," you say miserably.

"Wait, are you serious?" Eddie asks, and you nod. "We were in the studio all day, and you stayed late to record the extra trombone part. Aren't you exhausted?" You nod once again. He lets out a sigh, "what's keeping you up then?"

"I already told you, Billy needs to fix the damn air conditioning," you grumble.

"And that's all?" Eddie sounds skeptical.

You sigh, "I don't know. It's just- a lot." He gives an encouraging nod, and you continue, "we're not in Pittsburgh anymore, and everything's new and different, and this is our shot, and if I blow it-"

"Woah there," Eddie stops you. "First of all, if anyone blows it, it'll be Graham for spilling something on someone important." That pulls a laugh out of you, and he smiles. "And I know things are different, but it's exciting too. If you ever feel homesick, though, we'll just drive around until we find someplace that reminds us of Eat'n Park. Okay?"

You nod softly at his words, and he stands up. You send him a questioning look.

"Come on," he says, "you've gotta get some sleep."

"Eddie, I've tried," you insist. He rolls his eyes at you.

"Then at least come sit on the couch," he pleads. You reluctantly follow him into the living room and plop yourself down on the sofa. "Close your eyes too. If they get any more bloodshot, people will think we're high all the time."

"Aren't we?" You ask, throwing your arm over your face. You don't see him shake his head at you while he grabs his guitar.

"Since you woke me up, you get to hear what I've been working on," Eddie says. He pushes your legs over so that he has room to sit.

"Lucky me," your voice drips with sarcasm. Eddie flicks your leg, and you flinch away. "Hey!"

"Watch it, sleeping beauty," he says.

"Or what?" You taunt.

"I'll tell Billy you broke the garbage disposal," he smirks. You bolt upright at his words.

"You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?"

"How was I supposed to know I had to turn the water to use it?!"

Eddie stares at you, unimpressed.

"Never mind, Mozart, play on," you nod at him. Eddie starts strumming the guitar, and you sigh, laying back down.

The melody is slow and sweet, mesmerizing too. Your intentions of listening closely to offer feedback quickly slip out the window. Especially when he starts humming along. You don't even feel yourself starting to drift off. Your acute awareness of the temperature in the house, your dry mouth, or any residual hunger that haunted you earlier slips away.

Eddie goes on playing for a bit before he looks to you for your thoughts on it. When he finds you fast asleep, he sighs, "that good, huh?" He shakes his head with a smile on his face. Eddie stands and hangs the guitar back on the wall, retiring to his own room. He'll make you listen to it again in the morning.

[shadamyheadcanons]

I'm not sure if they ever gave an official explanation as to why Shadow joined GUN, but I've seen plenty of people say that it's strange he joined the organization that basically ruined his life, and yeah it is weird.

I have come up with a headcanon that explains it though. He joined them to make sure they never do something like they did on the ARK ever again. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer as they say. Not to mention the whole reason that all happened was because GUN wanted him as a weapon. I think he'd be concerned that they might go after his new friends if he doesn't give them the impression that he's under their command.

So he joined, hoping to gain their trust and keep an eye on their activities. Rouge is also in on it, and definitely has hacked into their database to view top secret documents. If they ever find out that GUN is planning another senseless massacre, then Team Dark plans to sabotage it from the inside out.

Not a ShadAmy headcanon specifically, but you could imagine that Shadow would be reluctant to share this information out of fear of being jeopardized. Perhaps it could be used for drama. Have fun writers~!

I really, really like this. It’s my new favorite explanation for something that’s always bothered me about this franchise. Thank you!

It doesn’t just make sense objectively, it matches Shadow’s experiences perfectly. I often say Shadow would cling to Amy because he knows how easy it is to lose someone, but I love the idea of him taking it in a darker direction, too, picking up on the possibility of another tragedy happening and preemptively taking steps to stop it. I think people see Shadow as rash because he’s so extreme in his actions, but that is careful for him. Those aren’t mutually exclusive:

[IDW issues 5 & 6]

Team Dark standing with him is always great, too.

Another thing I like is that it gives Shadow agency. Based on Commander Tower’s behavior at the end of ShTH and his actions in Shadow: Dark Beginnings, Sega seems to want us to believe the Commander is a nice guy who’s good buddies with Shadow:

“Shadow, do you read me? First, I...I want to...apologize, for the other day...actually, I just became a grandfather last week, and I was thinking of maybe having you over.”

Commander Tower, probably: “Sowwy I twied to shoot you, uwu. It’ll never happen again! 🥺”

And, uh...I don’t buy that, frankly...but it doesn’t seem to me that G.U.N.’s keeping him under their thumb, either. As interesting as that concept would have been, I don’t think it’s what Sega’s going for. It lines up better with canon if Shadow’s choosing to stick around for his own ulterior motives. I think having him actively decide to keep G.U.N. close for that reason strengthens his character.

Your headcanon is even stronger now in the wake of Takashi Iizuka’s pre-Shadow Generations interview (which happened after this ask was sent, btw), specifically the question at 3:20:

(Side note: I have so, so many issues with what he says here–no other motivation? None at all?! You’ve got to be kidding me! But that’s a rant for another day.)

This all but confirms that working with them is a choice for Shadow.

It also perfectly demonstrates something that really irks me about Sega: their lack of communication about basic aspects of the characters’ lives. Most fans speculated for what, almost two decades, about whether a main character is employed or not, and Sega just drops it in a random interview? Not even in a game? It’s such basic information, yet they didn’t tell us for 19 years. And gee, why would we get that impression?

[Archie Sonic Universe issue 1]

It’s like even the official writers at Archie thought he was a G.U.N. agent. Sega couldn’t be bothered to tell them, let alone us. We don’t even know where some of these characters live. It’s kind of silly once you think about it.

Yeah. “Silly.” Let’s call it that. 🤨

Thanks for the ask!