#which is why he puts his arm around her without asking this time he's learned she's ok with it by now

[hannah-heartstrings]

Starlight

For the TES Summerfest prompt: Starlit

Here’s my HoK, Lecrinn, and the NPC I shipped her with, Garrus, being cute in this short fic about cherishing the time you have with someone. (No one dies if that's what I just made it sound like, this is fluff.)

Super excited to share this one, I've spent a lot of time working on all the details. ^_^

@nine-blessed-hero @babyblueetbaemonster @inkysqueed @tes-summer-fest

---------

           She was like a shooting star, Garrus thought as Lecrinn walked down the street towards him, showing up unexpected and catching all of your attention.

           “Did you just happen to be in the area?” he asked surprised as she reached him.

           She smirked. “I may have gone a little out of my way.”

           “You have perfect timing,” his smile was almost giddy, “there’s something you’re going to love; unless,” the smile paused, “you need to get something to eat first?”

           “No, lead the way,” she lit up with eager curiosity, already reaching for his arm before he offered it.

           The streets were dark and empty, most of Cheydinhal having gone home for the night.

           As they reached a small square she looked at Garrus instead of where they were going, watching the excitement in his face with an affectionate smile.

           “We’re almost there, close your eyes.”

           She did, stepping slowly and carefully as he led her across a bridge to the small island in the river.

           Crickets trilled out a slow rhythm, cicadas adding an occasional high note, frogs adding a low one.

           Reaching the center he turned his giddy smile to her. “We’re here.”

           Eyes opening, they went wide, mouth falling open.

           Torchbugs filled the warm night air, stars twinkling above, the river shimmering with reflections below. Lecrinn and Garrus were seemingly surrounded in a thousand little lights. Her awe shifted to a wide smile, his brightening to see her so happy.

           “Wow,” she breathed out. “They just gather here like this?”

           He looked over them. “They seem to like the river, there isn’t usually quite this many though.”

           “I did come at the perfect time then.” Looking around she watched them flicker and bob through the air, almost in time with the crickets’ song. “I think we might’ve snuck into their party.”

           “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done that.”

           She gave a quick laugh.

           Turning back to her he watched her eyes excitedly dart around, his own narrowing as his smile softened.

           “You’re right, I love them.” She looked up. “They’re beautiful.”

           He breathed out a whisper. “So are you.”

           “What?” She looked at him.

           Eyes widening, he quickly turned to look up at the sky. “So,” he cleared his throat, “are you… staying long?”

           She smirked at him before looking the same direction, smile falling. “No, I need to leave in the morning.”

           “Oh,” his gaze dropped a little. And like a shooting star she’d disappear again before you knew it.

           She tugged their linked arms to get him to look at her again. “I’m here now,” she offered an apologetic smile.

           He smiled sadly back. She was right, she’d gone out of her way to be here for at least some time, there was no sense spending that time missing her before she was gone. “I am grateful that you’re here, for any time that we get.”

           “Me too,” her cheeks rose under her smiling eyes.

           The disappointment faded from his face, it was hard to stay sad with her looking at him like that.

           The twinkling torchbugs lit up their faces, her bright brown eyes sparkling up at him and his light hazel ones sparkling back.            

           Slowly they faced forward, intertwined gazes lingering a second. As they watched the lights dance around them she leaned into him, he slipping his arm from hers to wrap it around her shoulders.

           It was best to enjoy time with a shooting star while you had her.

[gyaruhana]

Would you be willing to write about Thanos from Squid Game competing with a girlfriend who is very quiet and easily manipulated? Would love to see how he would protect her

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - Easily manipulated!Reader Headcannons

Synopsis: thanos headcannons with an easily manipulated reader

A/N: i made two headcannons - one where he's a dickhead and the other where he's not so take your pick which you'd rather read !!

Warnings: Manipulation, HEAVY manipulation,

In the games (Thanos when he's high so bad thanos):

he does manipulate you himself honestly

don't think you're safe from this man

silent threats masked with a baby voice to keep you on his side

doesn't trust you with anyone else so he keeps you close to him

makes you believe he'd keep you safe but, if it came down to you or him, he's letting you die.

super super touchy and always has an arm around your shoulder or he holds your face in his hands

maintains eye contact with you to make you feel like he cares when he's only using you

if he betrays you and you still survive somehow, he's quick to give you fake apologies and claim he didn't mean to

At some point, he takes his manipulation even further and starts using you for sex

Subtly tricks you into thinking you're a murderer by blaming you for the people he's killed and saying he wouldn't have had to do it if it wasn't for you

Isolates you from the others and makes you distrust them so you won't believe them when they say that he's using you

Myung-gi tried to tell you once and it made you question how Thanos really felt about you

His instinct reaction was to ask you if you really believed someone who had scammed so many people over him when he was the one who had 'kept you safe'

Basically guilt trips you

if you keep pushing his limits, he will hurt you

then he'll say it was your fault once again that he had to do that

makes you take his drugs too so you'll be even more naive to his clear manipulation

if you die before him, he'll have no remorse at all

He'll just look at you dead in the eyes before you do with a grin before waving goodbye as you get shot

Overall, manipulative dickhead that uses you for personal gain

"Do you really believe him over me? He's been a liar since before these games. I've kept you safe this whole time. Why would i lie to you?" he speaks with anger as he grips your chin in his hand. He was pissed you were questioning him. Maybe he hadn't manipulated you enough? Perhaps he needed to teach you a lesson about questioning him so he could put you back in your place. After all, he needed you if he was going to win 45.6 Billion won. "I don't want to do this to you but you need to learn a lesson,"

In the games (Thanos when he's not high so good Thanos):

worried about you honestly.

he likes to be around you constantly because he doesn't want you to be manipulated by someone

tries to tell you to not be so naive and just trust him

he doesn't trust anyone to not try to use you for their own gain in a game like this

protects you with his life.

If someone's talking to you, he's immediately by your side, his arm around your shoulder

He just wants to make sure you're not being tricked

typa guy who does sound sort of manipulative because he's always telling you to only trust him..

he doesn't mean to sound that way though he just doesn't want you to fall for someone's lies

super touchy

tries to get you to keep playing but, if you say no, he won't push any further and let you make your own choice

always ask you three times over about things he wants just to make sure you want it and you're not just agreeing because he asked

if you somehow get a private conversation without him around, he will immediately ask what they told you

If someone DOES try to manipulate you, he's on them so fast

will fight them and not hold back at all

overall, super caring and makes sure NOBODY manipulates you or else

"What are you talking about to my girlfriend here?" Thanos speaks as he walks towards you - his gaze on the man who had been talking to you. He didn't like it when other people would talk to you given your nature. He just didn't trust anyone's intentions with you and assumed everybody was out to get you. Better to be safe then sorry, he thought. He slung an arm over your shoulder and pulled you close to him. It was a clear threat to the guy to make him back off and not even think about coming near you again. "Actually, I don't care. Just leave her alone,"

[hawkinsbnbg]

Soulmates au where Steve's soulmate is a man of culture.

ao3

Steve got Good boy inscribed on his butt, just on the right cheek.

It would be funny if it was a tattoo Steve had gotten one time when he was too drunk and on a dare.

Except it wasn't a tattoo. At all.

Even though it kind of looked like one.

It was the first words his soulmate would say to him.

When Steve first got it, his friends had given him odd looks in the locker room.

Tommy would use many excuses to touch and even Billy wouldn't shut up about it.

As for Carol, she just cackled her head off when he showed it to her.

Still, whenever Steve was alone, he would look at the words in the mirror and feel kinda giddy about the whole thing.

Who would call someone they had just met "good boy"? What if they were far older than him?

And what would his words be for them? "Yes sir"? "Hello sir"?

Soon, he found his answer when he learned about the BDSM world, which Robin had jokingly mentioned one time.

And Steve sort of fell down the rabbit hole since then.

He met many men and women who would call him "good boy", and occasionally "good girl".

But none of them felt right.

Until he heard about Kas.

Who was known to be an experienced dom and knew how to treat his subs right.

Most of the subs in Steve's circle put the man on a pedestal. They practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

And Steve had become curious enough to seek him out.

A quick text over the phone and Steve already had a date with Kas at a hotel on Friday night.

Once the day arrived, he dolled himself up a little, knowing many doms liked how rosy cheeks and pouty lips he was.

He even wore lipgloss and mascara just for good luck.

His outfit was simple enough to take off, but cute nonetheless.

A yellow and pink graffitied black sweater that was a little baggy on him, a tiny pearl choker, silver bracelets, a pair of jeans shorts, and baby pink sneakers.

He looked like a twink, all things considered.

It wasn't his first time dressing like this and it wouldn't be the last time, either.

Steve just..

Well, he just wanted to make sure if he stumbled on his soulmate who happened to be a dom, he wouldn't disappoint them too badly.

It had been years since his word first appeared. So he had the right to be a little bit desperate.

Steve didn't know why, but by the time he got to the hotel, he was a puddle of nerves.

He figured that maybe it was the "Kas' effect" that many people had told him about.

When the door opened to let Kas into the room, Steve just knew this man was going to rock his world.

Kas was attractive and tall. Easily having a couple of inches on him.

With long curly hair, big brown eyes, and plump lips, the man looked surprisingly intimidating.

He wore a burgundy shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing his tattoos and chunky silver rings.

His pants and heavy boots were made of leather, which Steve suddenly wanted to rub himself on.

He seemed to be a lanky type, but Steve knew better than to assume anything.

As Kas languidly made his way to the bed, Steve unconsciously slid down to the floor and got on his knees, waiting for his order.

Yeah, he was a good boy like that.

There was a reason why many doms had asked to keep him despite knowing he only let his soulmate own him.

Kas wasn't any different.

The man smiled at him, dimpled and warm, making Steve woozy a bit at being praised even wordlessly.

Once Kas sat down, he spread his thighs slightly and patted a hand on his lap.

Understanding the silent command immediately, Steve climbed up on it without being told twice.

He blushed and giggled a bit when strong arms wrapped around his waist securely.

"Good boy," said Kas huskily, smelling of cigarettes and something spicy. "What do you want for your reward, sweetheart?"

Steve felt his breath hitched at that. He knew the chance wasn't high but–

"Can I kiss you, sir?" He asked coyly, playing his role to perfection.

This time, it was Kas who took a sharp intake.

Surprise, disbelief, uncertainty, hope, and finally, joy settled on the man's handsome features.

Kas smiled at him again, more genuine and hopeful.

"Baby boy, do you know that I have those words written on my left ribs my entire life?"

"Show me," Steve demanded, unable to keep up the act when he was so close to finding his soulmate.

Without protest, Kas unbuttoned his shirt and there it was, scribbled on the man's pale skin was Can I kiss you, sir? in his handwriting.

Smiling fondly, Steve traced his fingers on those words.

They sounded so sweet. And yet concerning if being put into the wrong context.

What a pair they made.

"Can you show me yours, sweetheart?" Kas asked tentatively, looking unsure despite having been so confident just a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, sure, of course," Steve scrambled up from the man's lap and blushed as he turned around to unzip and pull down his shorts.

Hearing Kas curse quietly behind him was, perhaps, the most flattering moment in his life.

He could see what kind of an image he made with his baggy sweater bunching up around his waist, white thong, and Good boy being inked on his tanned buttcheek.

Some would call it hot, sexy, or erotic.

But Steve knew how obscene he looked with those words on him.

Especially when he was face down and ass up, waiting to be fucked into oblivion.

Not that he had let anyone fuck him, yet. But he wouldn't mind if Kas did it tonight.

Steve shuddered slightly as calloused fingers brushed on his cool skin, and let out a moan when hot lips placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

Then without pausing, strong hands grabbed his hips before sharp teeth sank into his flesh, eliciting a yelp from him.

It wasn't painful. It just made Steve want to ask for more. So he turned around to do exactly that.

"Kas–"

"Call me Eddie," the man tugged him back into his lap.

"Eddie," he breathed out as he straddled the man's thighs.

"Yes, my sunshine?" Eddie smiled adoringly at him.

"Can I kiss you now?" Steve braced his hands on the broad shoulders with a raised eyebrow.

Tightening the arms around his waist, Eddie pecked him on his chin, sweet and loving.

"How about I let you kiss me for the rest of our lives, my pretty angel?"

"And I'll be yours for as long as we live?" Steve murmured against those plump lips.

"Yeah, gonna treat you right, my good boy," Eddie chuckled before drawing him into a fervent kiss.

Steve was so going to thank that Chrissy girl who had sold him her mascara and lipgloss later.

[solbaby7]

I love the idea of the drink menu for the requests! It's brilliant ✨️

Could I please get an Old Fashioned, salt rim, neat? Take your time 💋

[ “no, no, leave your clothes on for me.” + smut + az ]

thank you so much for the request and being patient with me 💕💕the vibe of this one is giving situationship that yearns to be more, been watching too much scandal🫣

-> BLURB BAR <-

—

You’d learned pretty early on in life that asking for forgiveness was better than begging for permission.

It was just easier, usually made things less complicated which is why you significantly downplay the importance of the dress purchase that had half a dozen seamstresses prattling about your bedchambers. One of them promptly shoos Azriel away once they notice him eyeing the divider you strip behind, ushering him up and out of the doorway. He’s adjusting his pants when the door shuts behind him, vividly recalling the glimpse all that tight fabric and the way it cinches at your waist, accentuating the full curves concealed beneath. It leaves him hungry; wanting—salivating like starved wolves that scavenge through the Middle for mere scraps.

“Hot date?”

Azriel’s brows furrow, still a little dizzy from the sight of you and your lingering scent; his body annoyingly attuned to your own. “No, why?”

Rhys lazily points in the direction of your room, eyes trained on the array of chilled whiskeys at the bar cart before him. “The dress she’s wearing is designer—exclusive; one of a kind. Need to book an appointment a year in advance as well as having a good word with the owner type exclusive.”

“So?”

“So,” Polished crystal clacks heavily against metal, one, two, three ice cubes fall inside before a hefty pour of some smoky whiskey that’s been sitting around longer than you’d been alive. “They don’t sell a single dress without taking specific measurements for alterations, making multiple appointments for fittings.” The lack of response makes Rhys turn, fingers brushing at the crease in his dress shirt as he takes his brother in. Hazel eyes are clouded with curiosity, a million possibilities being pinned up on a board as the hunter within him collects pieces of a puzzle. “My point is, no male in his right mind lets the woman he wants go out in a dress like that without having some sort of claim on her first.”

Suddenly, it makes sense why people of power are urged to be of sound mind; to have a level head so that advice like that didn’t send one into a spiral.

Azriel quickly learns that he is not of sound mind. A harsh truth that he realizes seconds after Rhys leaves him alone to settle with those words. They echo in his brain, repeating in his mind like some curse that’s dead set on haunting him.

Sure, the two of you hadn’t exactly put a title on all the secret moments spent scuffling off to some dark corner for a few frenzied kisses. The times where group nights at Rita’s leaves two bodies disappearing out back for his hands to hike up some skimpy dress enough to get a good grip of your ass. But that alone had to count for something at least, didn’t it?

No way some other male would get the chance to see you how Azriel did, right? His hands twitch at the uncertainty—jealousy lighting a fire in his ass that has him bee-lining it to your room like he fucking owns the place.

It’s almost comical, the way your door bounces off the wall under the pressure of his palm once he’s finally reached it. Too bad he’s too honed in on his target to take in the true humor of six attentive ladies shooting daggers at the towering interruption that keeps making your arms fidget or hips shift while they try to work. “Az?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh, can it wait? They’re nearly finished with the—“

“No, I’m sorry. It needs to be now, it’s urgent.” Shadows are already following their masters will, urging the ladies out of the room and into the hall, the door shutting before their disgruntled words could breech the barrier. He turns, a speech brewing at the tip of his tongue but it all goes blank when he looks at you—really looks at you. “Wow, you look….wow.”

You preen under the attention, one arm holding up the bodice as you give him a spin. “I just knew when I saw it, it had to be mine.” There’s a few loose threads, buttons waiting in a little dish to the side to be sewn on properly but he gets the gist. Fully understands the intent of such fabrics when he sees it holding onto the shape of your curves. “Fits like a glove.”

“I can see that.” Grace is granted when you fully return to face the mirror, too entranced in the little details to even notice the way Azriel eats up the picture you paint. All soft lines and pretty shadows casted by the flickery golden light emitting from the candles you favor. Warm notes of vanilla and honeysuckle fill his nose and he commits every bit to memory; latching on to whatever he can of you. “A little skimpy for Starfall, don’t you think? Or is there a matching coat I’m not seeing?”

The cutting look you throw his way is felt through the reflective glass. “I’d never waste a dress like this on a familial event.” A neat brow raises as you carry on with your hair, hands holding it in a pony. Twisting it into a neat bun. Letting it all free and tousling it messily, lips pouting at the sexy bed head texture it creates.

“Then, what’s it for?”

“To get laid.”

Raw jealousy is injected into Azriel’s veins faster than he can even comprehend the attack. It shoots through his bloodstream, gobbling up all sensiblities while simultaneously planting seeds of doubt. Every inch of him goes rigid, lids narrowing and pupils dilating. Acid pools on his tongue, singeing through the words he speaks, “What gave you the impression that anyone else could touch you while you’re fucking me?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe, it’s the lack of exclusivity?” Mascara is brushed through your lashes. Lipgloss smeared across supple lips. “Or maybe it’s because I’m just too fucking pretty to be always second guessing why you won’t make a move already.”

A muscle ticks along his jaw, “I thought it was obvious enough that you and I—you belong to be.”

“Says who?” He abhors the way you laugh around your words. “Because, that conversation doesn’t ring a bell.”

Azriel’s shoulders shift, frustration lingering in his stance and you find yourself annoyingly attracted to the entitled way he begins to fill up the space of your room. Outside shoes sink into the soft plush of your rugs until he’s standing behind you, one finger flicking at your dress as if it were personally offending him. “Says me.”

A scoff passes glossy lips, a hand waving absently in his direction as if shooing off an insect. “Save the brutish male bullshit for a female who favors it. This dancing around your feelings thing is growing tiresome and borderline pathetic.”

You’ve gone too far.

The absence of his reply makes you sure of that. Too many seconds pass in silence, long enough for the mood to grow awkward. Lips part and close, the heat in Azriel’s stare too ambiguous to go off of.

Fingers fiddle with dainty gold rings held snug against your knuckle. “Az, I’m—“

“—In need of some clarification, it seems.” Every syllable comes out alarmingly even, forcing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand at attention. “Go to the bed and bend over.”

“…is this a joke?” You question over a tense laugh.

Not a single thing about him indicates so. “Does it feel like one?” He leaves no room for a response, jaw jutting out towards the bed. “Bend over.”

You swallow thickly, moving to comply while shimmying the dress down your torso.

“No.” Azriel’s voice cuts through like an arrow through the night, shadows curling around the curve of your shoulder, teasing through your hair. Goosebumps kiss your flesh, neck craning as your body melts to mush under his attention. “Leave your clothes on for me. You spent so much money,” Every step he takes is as silent as a whisper; the only way you can tell he’s directly behind you is because of the foot that nudges between your ankles, widening your stance. “Let me appreciate it how it deserves, yeah?”

He’s not really asking for a response but you nod along either way.

Anticipation burns beneath your skin, warms your belly, makes toes curl in expensive shoes when you hear the shift of his clothes as he crouches down to his knees. Shadows hold up the hem of your dress, preventing you from seeing exactly what Az is doing, but your imagination fills in the blanks when you feel his breath against the back of your thighs. "Pretty," The muscles in your legs jump at his touch, cool fingertips trailing up your calves, squeezing at the thickness of upper thighs while running his thumb under the fat of your ass.

You get the feeling he isn't referring to the intricate lace detailing or near invisible line along the side that concealed the zipper running from hip to rib. Not when he spreads you open, a deep hum rumbling in his chest at the wet sound of your cunt separating beneath thin cotton.

“Now there’s a warm welcome,” A hooked finger peels it away, revealing bare sex and dripping arousal. Calloused skin dragging against a sensitive clit has your hips jumping at the sudden attention.

Teeth bite at supple lips, a moan crooning free as pleasure licks up your spine—it’s not enough. You shift from foot to foot, heels forcing a strain in your hamstrings while bent over in this position but Azriel doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. “Beating around the bush, as usual.” He’s perfectly content exploring around with your sex, circling around your clit and teasing his fingers into a warm hole that all but weeps in rejoice at the attention.

“Don’t rush me.” Your throat rolls with a thick swallow at the authority in his tone, brows pinched with pleasure as he works you open. “A male can spend all day tinkering away with his toys if that’s what he pleases. Don’t you agree?”

It should bother you more that Azriel plays fucking dirty.

He’s just daring you to deny him while he’s got you so exposed—so vulnerable. Fingers abusing at a sensitive spot that has your legs shaking and pelvis bulging a little at the intrusion. Arousal pools in his palm, fingers coaxing your mind to mush; pulverizing all the fight you have as he works you to your high.

“Yes!” You all but shout, back arching into the orgasm that washes over you. Incoherent little babbles follow, choppy encouragements and whispered pleas for reprieve but all Azriel can hear is ‘yesyesyes’ ‘yoursyoursyours’.

Someone of his own to covet. To kiss and love and fuck and ruin.

Something like satisfaction coats his cadence. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

[lol a lil bonus part i couldn’t make fit but refused to delete]

“Pathetic, hm?”

A satisfied grin spreads along flushed cheeks, hair messy and lipgloss smudged. “You do your best work when provoked.” Something like realization bleeds back into your eyes and in seconds you’re flailing from his arms, slipping off the mattress and using the discarded dress as coverage when you rush to the door.

There’s a few seams loose, string hanging out haphazardly and wrinkles all over but your smile is bright—damn near dopey when you drop a thick velvet bag in their palm. “Final payment plus tip—the dress is perfect.”

“It’s ruined!”

“Trust me,” Fabric whispers as it moves, legs shuffling to tuck your frame better behind the door. “It served its purpose.”

[amourane]

falling for you

pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

genre: fluff, college au

w/c: 2.6k

summary: in which soonyoung struggles to ask you out on a date.

warnings: none!

a/n: if you saw the first post u didn't cuz tumblr made a mess of it and now i gotta repost it TT

"Jihoon!" A voice hissed from behind him. "Jihoon, here! Behind you!" He spun around to face...a bush. 

"When did plants learn how to talk?"

"It's me you idiot!" A hand shot out grabbing Jihoon's arm, pulling him into the bush. Soonyoung had twigs, leaves and something that looked like a ladybug but no one could ever be so sure. He was fiddling with the hem of his sweater, his cheeks bright red. “I just saw Y/n!” 

“So?” Soonyoung’s eyes bulged incredulously like Jihoon was supposed to know why his best friend looked like he had been living in the wild for a week. 

“Jihoon, you don’t just reply with ‘so’ and make it some question. You should know this!” Soonyoung shook his friend by his shoulders, squishing his cheeks painfully. “Obviously it’s because I saw her walk by and obviously I went up to talk to her but obviously I fell. I don’t even know how I fell and I was going to stand back up and continue to talk to her but she was already gone. And I have this huge stain.” He pointed to the brownish green patch on his white cotton sweater. “Everything’s just a mess!”

“Okay first of all, calm down Shakespeare.” Jihoon rolled his eyes, picking his best friend up. He tugged the sweater over Soonyoung’s head. “You could’ve just taken this off, you’ve got a shirt underneath anyway. And it’s been a week and you still haven’t asked her out?”

“Well, it’s hard alright.” Soonyoung nibbled his bottom lip. “Also Mingyu’s always around her and I can never seem to get her alone.”

“Now you’re just making excuses.”

Jihoon knew his best friend. He knew Soonyoung. If Soonyoung wanted something he’d probably fight the world for it. He remembered that one time he’d been so desperate to win Mario Kart against Jihoon that he’d dumped his water all over him. Jihoon was positively fuming, not because he’d lost but because Soonyoung had gotten his favourite shirt wet. 

Needless to say, Kwon Soonyoung would eat avocados for the rest of his life if it meant he’d get to ask you out. That was why it was weird that the guy who could probably fight zombies single handedly in an apocalypse couldn’t ask a cute girl out. 

“Hey what’s this?” Jihoon reached for the piece of paper hanging out of Soonyoung’s pocket. The boy flushed red, trying to grab the paper back from Jihoon. When he realised it was no use he slumped back a pout evident on his face. 

“You’re not allowed to judge me-”

“You really are a dork.” Jihoon snorted, examining the A3 piece of paper with ‘ASKING Y/N OUT’ scrawled on the top in big black marker. The page was filled with annotations and little diagrams that were all coloured in neatly. All the possibilities were drafted out, some more silly than others. “You were thinking of taking her to NASA?!” 

Soonyoung’s ears burned. He squirmed. “I mean it’s always a possibility but I think that would kind of ruin me.”

Jihoon watched as his best friend avoided his gaze, fingers anxiously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He smiled. He’d never seen Soonyoung this nervous to ask a girl out. It was oddly endearing. He continued to scan the paper, a little shocked that Soonyoung had put so much effort into this plan. 

So this was definitely not a little crush. 

//

“Okay listen.” Jihoon grabbed Soonyoung’s shoulders. They were currently outside the classroom you were in. He had devised this plan perfectly so that Soonyoung would actually ask you out without embarrassing himself. “Y/n’s going to come out here in approximately five minutes. You’re going to walk up to her and say ‘are you free this Saturday?’ and then she’ll say yes and then BAM instant date!” He clapped his hands together for exaggerated effect. 

“Jihoon, where are my flowers? And I can't be wearing this!” Soonyoung grabbed his black hoodie. “I can’t ask Y/n out like this. We need a suit and I need roses and some type of confectionery to win her over!”

Jihoon blinked like an owl. C-Confectionary?! Who the hell speaks like that anymore? Clearly Soonyoung had been watching too many romance movies. “You don’t need flowers or some fancy clothes to win Y/n over. You just need you, she likes you, not some dolled up Barbie.”

“It’s actually Ken who’s the main male-”

“Oh look here she comes.” He pushed Soonyoung hard. The poor boy stumbled clumsily, promptly bashing into you. He had to stop doing that. “Go get her!” Was all Soonyoung heard before he felt his soul die. 

You held Soonyoung steady. A small giggle left your lips. He blushed. You were even cuter today. Which was normally impossible but you were obviously special. The sweet smile you gave him nearly had him fainting. 

What was it Jihoon had said again? Oh yes, ask you out. He could do this.

“Did you need something Soonyoung?” 

Your voice was gentle and soft like a marshmallow. He could feel himself melting just at your words. Nope can’t do this. Soonyoung nearly spun around but when he caught sight of Jihoon’s deadly glare he retreated. Jihoon wasn’t someone you wanted to get angry. Guess he was going to have to do this.

“I...um…” He waved his arms around pathetically. It didn’t help that you were looking at him so innocently. “T-This Saturday you free...?” Soonyoung wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks burn bright red and he coughs. Not only did he completely butcher the English language but his voice cracked. Cracked! 

“I’m free this Saturday.” You grinned, eyes twinkling. Soonyoung felt his heart flutter. “I’ll text you okay?” You tucked a piece of paper into his hand before waving at him as you caught up to Mingyu. He watched as the two of you talked, you bursting into a fit of giggles, blushing.

The whole situation had happened so quickly it had made his head spin. A loud smack on his back brought Soonyoung back to reality. Jihoon stood behind him with a proud grin on his face. 

“Now we’ve just got to get you through this date.”

//

Soonyoung checked his watch for what felt like the upteenth time. It read, 11:13. He had said to meet him at 11 o’clock but maybe he was just early. Maybe you were stuck in traffic or something. He had spent about half an hour picking his outfit, with help from Jihoon of course because he could never decide on anything. 

It did look a little pathetic. Soonyoung sighed. Did you stand him up? You wouldn’t be that mean, would you?

“Soonyoung!” You were panting behind him, looking as if you had just run a marathon. Your chest heaved. “I'm so sorry. I lost track of time and everything kind of just went haywire-”

“I-It’s okay.” Soonyoung squeaked, wringing his hands. His eyes tried not to drift towards your chest. You were wearing a bright yellow sundress that hugged your body, little flowers dotted all over. The thin straps on your shoulders were tied in little bows at the top. He swallowed. 

“You’re not upset?” Your eyes were wide. The familiar scent of your jasmine perfume wafted to Soonyoung's nose and he shook his head. He could never be upset with you, that’d be ridiculous. You smiled. “Well, where are we heading?” 

He gave you a small grin. To say that Soonyoung has connections with people was an understatement. He had connections with everyone. That sounded a bit weird but everyone knew Soonyoung. It wasn’t like the town was small or anything, he was just known by everyone. Even the grumpy old lady that sold newspapers knew him.

Now normally he would have a plan for this, it was all written down. Sadly, Jihoon had ripped it up and threw it in the bin. Apparently having a plan was lame. Totally untrue, it was great to be prepared. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

//

“Oh my god!” You nearly tumbled to the ground at your shock. “How did you even manage to get in here? Isn’t this the Hong’s?” 

In front of you were rows beyond rows of strawberry bushes. The field seemed to stretch on forever. There was only one family in town that owned so many acres of land, the Hongs. You’d met their son, Joshua Hong, a couple of times at campus but everyone knew their strawberry fields were off limits. 

“My mum’s friends with Mrs Hong, used to go over to hers every week with apple pie. Me and Shua were friends for a while but then he got caught up in music and me, dancing. We still talk and I was lucky enough to get us in.” Soonyoung shrugs. “And it’s strawberry picking season.”

“Most boys would bring their date out to a fancy restaurant.” You picked a strawberry, popping into your mouth, savouring the sweet taste. “I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy this.”

Soonyoung tried not to smile too wide. He couldn't contain his excitement. At first he wanted to take you to a lot of places in one day but Jihoon had said it was impossible to take you to the cinema, zoo, aquarium, ice cream shop and laser tag in 24 hours. So he settled on strawberries. Everyone loved strawberries, plus it was free because he knew Joshua. 

You slowly intertwined both of your fingers, holding his hand. Soonyoung felt his cheeks flare an embarrassing red as his eyes trailed down to both of your clasped hands. He felt his heart beat rapidly in his chest. There wasn’t a lot he could do but try not to faint. 

A small smirk crept up on his lips as he handed you a basket. “We’ll make a deal.” 

“A deal?” You looked at him confused, taking the basket. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s say, whoever picks the most strawberries decides where we’re having lunch and they pay as well.”

“Chivalry really is dead.” You rolled your eyes. If Kwon Soonyoung wanted to bet that he would pick more strawberries than you, then he best be prepared for war. You contemplated the thought. If you were to win you’d probably empty his pockets but if he won he would empty your pockets. It’s a 50/50 chance. 

You must have stayed silent for a tad too long because Soonyoung grew worried. 

“W-We don’t have to if you don't want to-” 

“Fine. No rules, just as many as we can pick.” You shook his hand, a playful grin on your face. “Be prepared to lose Kwon.” You dashed away.

“Hey, you’re cheating!” 

“No rules remember!” 

Soonyoung stood still, mouth open like a goldfish. He finally snapped out of it, chasing after you, determined to win. There was no way he was going to let you beat him. 

Or maybe he will. 

//

Soonyoung grasped his basket tightly. It was already nearly full with ruby red strawberries. No doubt they were sweet and juicy. He hadn’t seen you since you left him and it was slightly worrying. Hopefully you were fine. Hopefully.

"Y/n?" He calls over the bushes. No reply. Soonyoung trudged forward, still looking for you. A twig snapped from behind him. "Y/n?" He spun around only to see you reaching a hand inside his basket plucking a strawberry and stuffing it into your mouth. 

"They're really yummy, I should thank Joshua when I see him." You giggled, turning to flee again but this time Soonyoung grabbed your hand. A small squeak escaped your lips. 

"Don't you dare run away." His tone was light and teasing. You shrieked when he popped one of your strawberries into his mouth. "No rules remember." He smirked, playfully flicking your forehead. You threw a strawberry at him which he dodged. You pelt another and another. One hits him and you stifle your laughs. 

Soonyoung pulled you forward and you shut up. He leaned forward, breath fanning your face. You instinctively fluttered your eyes shut. 

"I'll see you later." He whispered, causing you to snap open your eyes, mouth dropping to the ground. You watched dumbfounded as he ran away. What happened to the shy Soonyoung?

//

“I only lost because you ate all of mine.” You pouted, folding your arms defiantly. It wasn’t your fault that he was so devastatingly cute that you just had to offer him some of your strawberries. He stole them from you, even if he insisted that you gave them willingly. 

“You’re in denial Y/n.” Soonyoung skipped happily next to you, swinging his full basket. Your pout deepened. “Now where’s the most expensive place to have lunch?” He pulled his phone out, tapping a few times before a smug grin took over his face.

“You’re going to empty my pockets.” You whined. 

Soonyoung grinned. “Come on we’ve got to catch the train otherwise we’ll be late. I’ll pay for the tickets.” A small smile flitted across your face before it reverted back into a pout. You huffed, letting Soonyoung clasped your hand as the two of you walked away. “If it makes you feel any better, you can have my strawberries.”

“I just wanna know what was with the personality change back then?”

His cheeks flushed bright red. “I can be confident too…”

“Don’t doubt it. I’ve seen you dance.” The look he gives you has you rolling your eyes. “You’re a totally different person when you’re in the studio.”

His cheeks flushed bright red again causing you to burst into a fit of giggles. 

//

“So what you’re saying is that the bill is too expensive and right now you’re hiding in the bathroom and, might I remind you, you left poor Soonyoung to fend for himself.” Mingyu said through the phone.

“It sounds worse when you say it aloud.”

“You can’t just ditch him Y/n, what are you going to do, climb out a window and escape?” He hissed. You stared at the tiny window at the back. If you did it right you could squeeze through. “If you’re thinking about climbing out of a window I will stop feeding you my brownies.”

“Hey hey hey. No need to deprive my need for brownies Gyu, have some respect.” He snorted, muttering under his breath. “I can still hear what you’re saying.” 

“Good.”

Okay maybe running inside the bathroom and hiding in a stall wasn’t going to solve all of our problems. But the bill was hefty and you would probably land yourself in prison if you did manage to pay for it. Also you couldn’t climb out of the window because you really did need those brownies. 

“I want you to go out there and say you can’t pay for it and ask Soonyoung to pay for it.”

“Gyu are you crazy?”

“You’re the one in a bathroom stall, not me.” And with that he hung up leaving you alone. You could do this. It was not that hard, not that hard.  

Soonyoung was still sitting at the table where you left him but this time all the plates had been cleared and he was staring at his phone. He looked up and smiled. “Thought you were gonna do something illegal. Don’t worry, I paid for everything.”

“D-Did you rob a bank before we came here?” Your mouth was hanging open. That was the only option, unless he really did have enough money but everyone your age was practically broke so…

Soonyoung chuckled, shaking his head. “You didn’t actually think I was going to let you pay for all of that? You’re cute.” 

You were left gaping as he took your hand. What just happened? He said your line, your line. You were meant to call him cute. Soonyoung seemed to sense how confused you were because he shot you a dazzling smile.

“Told you I can be confident.”

[hyuniemyunie]

Can I pls have Amy + anyone else you want and her dancing w reader, either learning to dance w or one is teaching the other?

Two Steps Closer

sonic characters x gn!reader, learning how to dance

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): i NEED amy to teach me how to dance im so bad at it ffs😞 ty for your request duckyfann9871🙏

all romantic except tails

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

A Dance of Our Own

Silver was excited.

Way too excited.

"You sure you know how to do this?" you asked, watching as he practically bounced in place.

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "Well… not really! But hey, if we both don’t know what we’re doing, we can figure it out together, right?"

You sighed, shaking your head. "This is gonna be a disaster."

"Nah, it’s gonna be great!"

Famous last words.

The first few attempts were… bad. Not just clumsy—silly. Silver kept overcompensating, trying too hard to be smooth, which resulted in wild flailing. At one point, he lifted you off the ground entirely with his psychokinesis without realizing.

"Silver, put me down!"

"OH CRAP—SORRY!"

By the time you were both out of breath from laughter, you had collapsed onto the floor, limbs tangled, faces flushed.

"Okay," you panted, wiping a tear from your eye. "New plan. Less energy, more rhythm."

Silver huffed. "I have rhythm!"

You raised an eyebrow.

"...Okay, maybe I don’t." He grinned sheepishly.

The next few tries went better. You started slow, counting the steps together, learning how to move with each other rather than against.

And when you finally, finally got through an entire routine without tripping?

Silver beamed. "WE DID IT!"

You barely had time to react before he spun you in circles, laughing.

Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but dancing with Silver?

It was yours.

Just Follow My Lead

Shadow was not a dancer.

Fighting? That was muscle memory. Strategy, balance, movement—he had all of that perfected. But dancing?

Dancing was different.

"Why are we doing this again?" he muttered, arms crossed as he stared at your outstretched hand. His ears flicked in irritation, but the faintest dusting of red painted the tips.

You smirked. "Because you need to loosen up, big guy. And because I want to dance with you."

Shadow scoffed, looking away. "Dancing serves no purpose in combat."

"Maybe not," you admitted, grabbing his hand anyway. He didn’t pull away. "But it’s not about that. It’s about feeling the music, moving with it. And, y’know, having fun?"

Shadow grunted, but the way his fingers curled tentatively around yours told you he was at least trying.

"Fine," he sighed. "But if you step on my foot—"

"You mean if you step on mine," you teased.

His glare was half-hearted.

The first few minutes were awkward. Shadow was stiff, his movements too controlled—like he was expecting an attack at any moment. You guided him gently, adjusting his posture, showing him how to listen to the rhythm instead of overthinking it.

"Relax, Shadow," you murmured. "It’s not a mission. It’s just us."

His red eyes met yours, something in them softening.

He let out a slow breath and loosened his grip. And this time, when you stepped in closer and swayed with the music, he moved with you.

By the time you finished, there was something almost… content in his expression.

"I’ll admit," he said, crossing his arms again, "this was… not terrible."

You grinned. "I’ll take it."

And maybe—just maybe—Shadow would dance with you again.

Just Feel It

Knuckles didn’t dance.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Then he showed you.

It was different from what you expected—less formal, more instinctive. There was a grace to the way he moved, something almost ritualistic about it.

"Where did you learn this?" you asked as he took your hand, guiding you into the slow, swaying rhythm.

He shrugged. "It’s part of my culture. Echidnas used to dance for all kinds of things—celebrations, ceremonies, even battle." His voice was calm, steady. "It’s about feeling the earth beneath you. Letting it guide you."

You swallowed. "And now you’re teaching me?"

Knuckles’ grip on your waist tightened slightly. Not forceful, just reassuring.

"You wanted to learn, didn’t you?" he murmured, his forehead nearly brushing yours. "Then trust me."

And you did.

Knuckles’ dancing wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t about showing off. It was about being in the moment, connecting. And when he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to your temple as the rhythm carried you both, you knew—

Knuckles wasn’t just dancing with you.

He was sharing a part of himself.

The Perfect Partner

Rouge was effortless.

Every step, every movement—flawless. She was the kind of dancer that owned the floor, that turned heads the moment she stepped into the rhythm.

So when she offered to teach you?

You hesitated. "I don’t know if I can—"

She pressed a finger to your lips, smirking. "Ah, ah, none of that. Dancing isn’t about knowing. It’s about doing."

You swallowed. "Easy for you to say."

Rouge’s smile softened—just a little. "That’s why you’ve got me, darling."

She took your hands, graceful, patient.

At first, you stumbled. You second-guessed. You kept looking at your feet, overthinking every step.

Rouge sighed dramatically. "Sweetheart, if you keep hesitating, I’m gonna start thinking you don’t trust me."

Your head snapped up. "I do trust you!"

Her grip on your waist tightened slightly. "Then prove it."

So you did.

You let her guide you, let yourself stop thinking and just move.

And suddenly?

You were dancing.

Rouge grinned. "See? I knew you had it in you."

You flushed. "That’s only because you’re leading."

Her lips brushed your ear. "Oh, honey," she purred, twirling you effortlessly, "I always lead."

Catch Me If You Can

Sonic wasn’t one for slow dances.

He was speed, movement, energy—always on the go. The idea of standing still, swaying in rhythm? Unthinkable.

So when you suggested dancing together, his first response was a smug grin.

"Alright, babe, but if you wanna dance with me, you better keep up!"

You barely had time to react before he grabbed your hand and spun you. Sonic didn’t do waltzes or ballroom routines. He turned it into a game.

One moment, he was guiding you through fast-paced steps, the next, he was dipping you dramatically, twirling you under his arm, laughing the whole time.

"Sonic!" you gasped, breathless from the pace.

He grinned. "What? This is fun, right?"

You wanted to argue, but… you were smiling. Laughing. The rush of movement, the way he held onto you, the way he matched your energy, never letting you fall—

It was wild. It was spontaneous.

It was so him.

Eventually, you both collapsed onto the floor, panting and grinning. Sonic nudged you with his shoulder, eyes bright.

"Not bad, huh?"

You chuckled, leaning into him. "Not bad at all."

And maybe, just maybe, Sonic would let you teach him a real dance next time.

Or maybe not.

But as long as you were together, it didn’t really matter.

A Lesson in Rhythm

Tails had never danced before.

So when you suggested learning together, his first response was a nervous chuckle. "Uh, yeah, sure! How hard could it be?"

Turns out? Very hard.

The first attempt was a disaster.

Tails kept stepping on your feet, getting the rhythm wrong, and overanalyzing every step.

"Okay, okay," he huffed, ears drooping. "Maybe I’m not a natural."

You chuckled. "It’s okay. We’ll figure it out."

Tails frowned, thinking. Then, his face lit up. "Wait! Maybe if I calculate the exact movement—"

You groaned. "Tails. No math. Just… feel it."

"Feel it?" He tilted his head. "But there’s no formula for that!"

"Exactly," you grinned, taking his hands. "Let’s just move."

Slowly, he stopped thinking so much. He let the music guide him, let himself relax into the rhythm.

And when you both finally managed a full routine without tripping?

Tails grinned, ears perking up. "Hey! We did it!"

You laughed. "Told you!"

Maybe he wasn’t a natural. But with you?

He’d dance anytime.

A Dance for Two

Amy loved dancing.

And when she found out you didn’t know how?

She was determined to teach you.

"Alright, sweetheart," she said, hands on her hips. "First rule of dancing with me—confidence!"

You hesitated. "But I don’t know what I’m doing."

Amy took your hands firmly, yet gently. "Doesn’t matter. Confidence makes everything better."

She started slow, swaying side to side, guiding you patiently.

At first, you kept looking down at your feet, second-guessing every step. Amy clicked her tongue. "Nope. None of that. Eyes on me."

You lifted your head, meeting her gaze. Bright, warm, full of encouragement.

"See? You’re doing it," she murmured, squeezing your hands.

Her movements were effortless, natural. Dancing with Amy wasn’t just about technique—it was about feeling.

"You don’t have to be perfect," she said, twirling you. "Just be with me."

Your heart skipped. "Amy…"

She giggled, pulling you close. "Mmm, I love hearing my name like that."

She leaned in, brushing her nose against yours—a soft, hedgehog-like gesture.

"One more time?" she whispered.

You nodded.

And this time?

You danced without hesitation.

[carlonsos]

Lights Off, Hands On.

Pairings: Carlos Sainz Jr x female!reader

Synopsis: in which the reader and Carlos were once the heartthrob of the paddock, have broken up a few months back. Tonight, you wanted a time to lose yourself. Put a distance to reality. And to put distance to reality, you did.

CW: +18, smut, mature themes, hate-sex, breeding, can't get enough of one another.

The bass thrums beneath your skin, the pulse of the club syncing with your heartbeat as you tilt your head back, swallowing the last sip of your drink. It burns, but not as much as the sight of Carlos across the room.

You don’t expect to see him here. Not in this city, not tonight, not with her.

She’s tucked against his side, a brunette in red, her laughter bright even in the dim haze of the neon-lit lounge. His hand rests at her waist—low, easy, familiar. You shouldn’t be looking. You should turn away.

But Carlos sees you first.

His smile fades. His fingers twitch against her dress. And for a split second, it’s just you and him, standing on the edge of something neither of you ever learned how to escape.

You move before you think, weaving through bodies, ignoring the clawing ache in your chest. There’s no plan, no hesitation, just the need to get close enough to remind yourself why you left in the first place.

Carlos shifts, murmuring something to her. She doesn’t notice his distraction, but you do. You see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his chest rises and falls just a little too sharply, the way his jaw clenches like he’s trying to bite back a reaction he has no right to feel anymore.

It’s not fair.

You spent months learning how to live without him, how to move through the world without looking for him in every crowd, without aching every time you heard his name. See it on TV every race weekend. Where you see images of him in the paddock, where you once linked arms and walked through it with ease.

And yet—

One glance, and it all unravels.

You don’t think. You move. Your feet carry you to the bar, to the one place you know he’ll follow.

And he does.

By the time you reach the bar, he’s already there.

He stops just behind you. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, too close for people who are supposed to be strangers now.

You don’t turn around.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is low, rough.

You look ahead, lifting your drink to your lips. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Carlos exhales sharply. “Don’t play games with me.”

You swallow down your drink, gaze dropping as you set your glass down with a soft clink. “I thought that’s all we ever did.” A hint of bitterness.

His silence is heavy, weighted with things neither of you have the courage to say.

Then—softly, bitterly—he murmurs, almost a hiss, “I hate seeing you.”

You blinked ahead, ignoring the sting in your throat. “I hate seeing you, too.”

It’s a lie. You both know it.

Your fingers curl around the edge of the bar as you finally slowly turn to face him. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but there’s something in them that makes it hard to breathe.

“You’re happy,” you say, forcing the words out, testing them, seeing if they break you the way you think they might.

Carlos doesn’t answer right away. His jaw tenses. His gaze flickers—down to your lips, to your throat, to your hands gripping the bar like you need it to keep you upright.

Then he shakes his head, his Spanish accent thick. “Am I?”

Your chest tightens. “She seems nice.”

“She is.”

You nod, ignoring the nausea curling in your stomach. “Good.”

Carlos exhales, running a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into every movement. “Why are we doing this?”

You tilt your head, smiling in a way that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Doing what?”

“Lying to each other.” His voice is hoarse.

“Pretending like this doesn’t hurt."

The words knock the air from your lungs.

You want to tell him it doesn’t. That you’re fine. That you don’t still wake up expecting to feel his warmth beside you, that you don’t still hear his voice in the quiet spaces of your day.

But what’s the point in lying when he already knows the truth?

Your silence says enough.

Carlos sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Come with me.”

You blink. “What?"

He steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just—five minutes. That’s all I need.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. You should say no. You should walk away.

But you never could tell him no.

So you let him take your wrist, let him pull you into the dark hallway behind the bar, let him press you against the wall like he’s seconds away from falling apart.

Then, he kisses you.

And it’s devastating.

It’s months of longing, of regret, of wanting something you both know you shouldn’t have. His lips are desperate, his hands frantic, like he’s trying to commit you to memory before the moment is gone.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, pouring every unsaid word into the way your mouths move together.

It’s fire and ruin. It’s love and destruction. It's harrowing but so fucking good.

It’s everything you swore you’d never let happen again.

His forehead drops to yours, the two of you gasping for air, as though meeting each other's lips again is your oxygen. “Tell me you don’t still feel it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Carlos…”

“Tell me.”

You exhale shakily. “I can’t.”

A sharp breath. His hands tighten on your waist, like he’s trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers.

“Neither can I,” he whispers.

And then, he's kissing you again. Like starved man, you meeting that intensity, arching your hip to hip. Fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just to hear that familiar groan rumble in his chest. His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, pressing you closer, as if he’s trying to erase the time apart.

But time hasn’t changed anything.

Not the way he fits against you. Not the way your body responds to his touch. Not the way your heart still stumbles in his presence.

It’s dangerous. Addictive. A losing game you both should’ve quit a long time ago.

And yet—

“Tell me to stop.” His breath is hot against your skin, his voice rough, strained.

You could. You should.

But instead, you whisper, “I don’t want you to.”

And so he doesn’t.

He slots his thigh between yours. Your core instantly chasing that heat at his thigh. A moan escapes you to which he happily drinks with lust.

The cold air outside bites at your skin, but the heat between you and Carlos is unbearable. His hands are everywhere—gripping, pulling, claiming. The moment you press against the wall, the world around you vanishes. There is no club, no noise, no one else but him, his body, his lips, the way he moves like he’s trying to erase the space between you.

You gasp into him, and it only fuels his urgency. His hands are under your jacket, fingertips grazing the bare skin of your waist, sending a shiver of electricity through your body. You can feel the heat radiating from him, feel his chest rise and fall against yours, his breath uneven and ragged.

Your hands roam—fingers threading into his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, urging him closer as your bodies align, fitting together in a way that feels too familiar, too right.

Carlos growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips, and you feel his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, warm and insistent. The moment his fingertips brush the soft skin of your stomach, a jolt of need shoots through you, and you press yourself harder against him, as if the friction might be the only thing that keeps you both tethered to reality.

His hands move with purpose—sliding down your body, over your hips, gripping you like he’s never going to let go. He pushes his body into yours, the hard press of him sending a wave of heat crashing through you.

The feeling of him—of him—is intoxicating. You’ve forgotten how well he fits against you, how perfectly his body matches yours. His chest presses against yours, the beat of his heart wild, and you can feel the tension building between you like a slow-burning fuse.

His hands slip lower, teasing the waistband of your jeans, his fingers grazing the soft skin of your stomach, and it makes you ache. You want him, you need him. No more games, no more pretending this is just a fleeting moment.

His hand slides under your shirt, warm fingers splayed across your back, before slowly making its way up, pushing the fabric higher. You let him. There’s no stopping him now, no stopping either of you.

His thumb grazes the side of your breast, a touch so light it almost makes you ache with need. Eliciting goosebumps across your skin. You arch into him, unable to stop yourself, and he groans, deep and low. “You’re fucking killing me.”

You couldn't help but moan against him, cursing out against his lips to which he responds with his own curse in his mother tongue. "Joder."

You pull at the fabric of his shirt, trying to get it off, and he helps, lifting his arms just enough for you to tug it over his head.

The moment his bare chest presses against yours, a shudder runs through you. He’s solid, warm, real. And you want every inch of him.

Carlos groans, his hands trembling slightly as they slide up your sides, pushing your shirt higher, revealing your bare skin. His eyes darken as he takes you in, every inch of you like he’s afraid you might slip away.

There was no going back. Reality was thrown out the window. A single meeting of heated gazes and the two of you were hurriedly removing each others' jeans.

As soon as you slid the zipper down, pushing the jeans and boxers down his hips, you couldn't help but moan out in absolute, shameless lust as you traced the lines of his hips, the dips, to his length that sprung up as soon as it was free.

You couldn't waste any more time.

Your core pulsed with insane need. Both of you exposed to the cool air, keeping one another warm at the proximity. Easily, as ever familiar, as though you were never months apart, you hooked your leg around his waist. His forehead rests on yours, both of you gasping at the light touch of his length meeting your core with the slightest of touches.

With a hand around your waist, his lower jaw slightly jutting out in concentration, his other hand stroking himself momentarily before slowly guiding himself toward your entrance.

A guttural moan escaped him as he slid into your tight walls, eliciting a choked moan from you. Your head fell back against the cold wall. His lips found your neck to ground himself as he began to slowly move into you.

His thrusts were slow at first, but it wasn't soft whatsoever. Each was slow, deliberate, strong. Knees slightly arched so that he could push himself all the way to the hilt, his balls touching your core. The depth of it had your mouth falling open, eyes wide as you drank in the feeling of the familiar stretch, the pleasurable pain.

It wasn't long before he was pounding into you. Thrusts slowly growing in pace. The rustle of his belt hitting the floor was a mere background noise, much like the club that grew awfully distant. Your hooked around his shoulders, fingers tugging at his dark, long strands. His strong hands, evident from his lifestyle as a Formula One driver held you expertly, shielding what he could from the wall from scraping against your back.

You began to lose clarity - since his eyes landed on yours. All reality was out the window as the two of you drank each other in in the way you touched each other.

Of how you missed him, how he held you so fucking gently when he's still pounding into you, enough to have you wanting to melt into him. To fuck you senseless. Like he did all those months ago.

Your nails fell down his neck to his back, feeling a build up in your lower abdomen. Nails scraping up his back as a knot was forming, your toes beginning to curl against him. His breathing became more shallow - he was nearing too.

"Y/N—" he grunted, his breathing frantic, eyes closed shut, licking stripes across your neck as you took him in with every hit inside.

"Do it. Give it to me." You whispered hoarsely, voice shaking with his thrusts. The upward motion thrusting his length's head reach the deepest inside of you with so much ease. Beads of sweat from the both of you, breathing each other in.

He couldn't contain his moans. Deep. Vocal in those short moments. Dragging it out as he finally stilled, his length pulsing and spilling into your walls. Your breathing hitched as you came, eyes closing shut as your opened your mouth to a silent scream, riding into your orgasm which evidently squeezed him to pump out what was left into you. The warmth filled you up. And he filled you up good.

He kept himself there. The two of you riding your highs down. Faces flushed. Lust falling. Catching breaths.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his own doe ones. Boring into you. Where your heart jolts. You couldn't help it. "I fucking hate you. I fucking missed you."

A dry chuckle escaped him. His lower lip jutting out. You feel his semen drip down your inner thigh, leaving you shuddering at the warmth of it distinctly different from his skin against you.

"Me too, cariño." He breathes against your jaw. Your heart swells for all the wrong reasons.

And then—his phone buzzes on the floor with his jeans pooled at his ankles.

Carlos freezes.

The sound shatters whatever spell was holding you together.

His phone vibrates again, and you both know who it is.

Reality crashes over you like a tidal wave.

Carlos steps back slowly, his arms holding you as he gently, almost regrettably, shifting himself out of you. You feel more of him drip down you now, your core twitching. God, that was so fucking deliciously filthy. He curses lowly. Your neck now exposed making you shiver.

Your throat tightens. “You should probably get that.” You unhook your leg from him, shuddering as you braced yourself against the wall and reached for your jeans as he reached for his shirt next.

As he buttons his shirt, he cleared his throat, gaze shifting away as he finally answered the call. "¿Sí, mi vida?" He outwardly flinched.

Your heart shattered. It shouldn't. Why the fuck–?

"Took a while in the toilet. I'm on my way now."

What a fucking lie. An easy one at that.

His lips part, like he wants to say something. Apologize. Explain. Promise you something you know he won’t keep.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he swallows hard, shoves his hands in his pockets, and nods.

You force a smile, ignoring the way your heart aches. “Take care, Carlos.” You whisper.

His eyes darken. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like this is the last time.”

You hesitate. Then, softly, “Isn’t it?”

Carlos looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s trying to carve the image of you into his mind.

Then, without another word, he turns and walks away. His jaw tensed. His doe eyes intense. Drinking you in all over. As though it was the last time. Perhaps it truly is. Is it?

Without another word, he spun around and walked away, raking his hand over his hair to tame it - removing any telltale signs of his endeavor.

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself. You couldn't think. Not right now. But you knew you couldn't go back in anymore. Instead, you walked out of the alleyway towards the car park and headed towards your car.

[steddiealltheway]

Steve can see it in Max. That same loneliness and ache that he finds in himself. For him, it’s result of his parents leaving with no intent to return to him unless absolutely necessary.

He knows he was an accident. Or rather a mistake as his father used to call him when he was particularly angry. But it made sense to him. Steve's the reason his father had to marry his mother. He left him "trapped." And maybe no one says it out loud, but he can tell his mother feels the same way too.

But they must keep up appearances, right?

Which is what Max has been trying to do since Billy died, El moved away, and it's been just her and her mom. But she's been going about it through a different route - pushing people away all while pretending things are fine. But Steve sees the way she picks up the broken pieces of her mom and tries to put them back together - Steve's had to do the same thing before.

So, he starts sticking around a little longer. Offering her more rides to the arcade and around town to pick up groceries when she needs to. Sometimes he'll tell her about a new recipe he's been trying for a casserole and pick up the ingredients, pretending like the milk and butter he bought will spoil by the time he drives home from her trailer.

Of course, they both know it's a lie, but Max humors him and plays along. She'll let him cook dinner while she picks up the bottles her mom left on the floor, dumps out the overflowing ashtray, and feeds the dog. Usually, Steve will ask her what she's learning in school and linger a little longer than usual in hopes that she'll say more than the usual, "I don't know. A bunch of boring stuff."

But lingering has gotten a lot of things out of Max such as her love for Kate Bush, a story about El and how much she misses her, and short quips about Lucas before she gets a sad smile on her face. Steve doesn't really know what to say most of the time, but he hopes that just being there will help.

Unfortunately, lingering and just being there has led him to his current predicament of none other than Eddie "The Freak" Munson sitting on the hood of his car glaring at him as he walks out of Max's place. Steve jumps a little, startled by the figure on his car and becoming more hostile as he sees the expression on his face. He shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his pace. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie snorts humorlessly. "Christ. You're really going to pretend like there's nothing wrong with what's happening?"

Steve's brows furrow, entirely missing whatever point he's trying to make.

Eddie stands up and stalks toward him. "I see you, you know. Always lurking around when her mom isn't home. Coming out of her trailer late at night."

Steve laughs, finally understanding the absurd conclusion he's come to. "Jesus, man. You're delusional."

Steve doesn't expect it, but Eddie sharply shoves his chest and grits, "I don't fucking lie to me, Harrington."

Steve holds his hands up. "I'm not," he firmly states. "Nothing like that is happening here. I'm glad you're looking out for her, but it isn't like that."

"Do you expect me to believe that? Maybe this is why you're always hanging around Henderson and the other kids."

Steve crosses his arms and his jaw tenses. "I'm not a fucking pervert or a pedophile if that's what you're trying to say. I'm just looking after them."

"Why?" Eddie asks, dramatically opening his arms, "Why would King Steve adopt a group of misfits to take under his wing? See, the math isn't adding up."

Usually, Steve would just brush it off and tell the person to fuck off and mind their own business. But his parents have just left town again without leaving a note and Max had snapped when Steve tried to help her clean the place because it looked worse than usual, and he was just generally feeling like shit and angry at his parents and Max's parents for not being there. So he broke, "Because I don't want Max to end up like me! I don't want any of those kids to grow up without a role model. And god forbid if any of those other kids' parents fuck up, and they’re left with only me. I need them to know that I'm there for them! Because sometimes it feels like whenever the world goes to shit, I'm the only one who is there, and I plan to stay there, okay?!"

He finishes his rant breathing a little heavier than usual and noticing that a few of the lights in the trailers have turned on around them. He looks around and awkwardly nods to the people glaring out their windows. God, he needs to get a grip.

When he turns back to Eddie, he notices the conflicted expression, jaw dropped, eyebrows knitted together, eyes searching him as if he's still wondering if he's lying.

A door creaks open behind them and Steve curses under his breath as he hears Max say, "Eddie, leave him alone. Do you really think I would hook up with my damn babysitter? Jeez."

"Language," Steve quietly lectures as the door swings shut. He runs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath. It's been a long fucking day.

A hand lands on his arm and tugs him away from Max's trailer. Steve glances up at Eddie, leading him across the way. "Where are we going?"

"My place," Eddie says.

"Why?"

"So we can talk."

God, the last thing he wants to do is talk to Eddie of all people, the guy he's been actively avoiding since Dustin started worshipping the ground - or rather tables - he walks on. But he lets himself be pulled away in the trailer and practically deposited on the couch in the living room.

He glances up and comments, "That's a lot of mugs."

"My uncle's, but that's not what I wanted to... Christ," Eddie says, pacing in front of Steve and tugging his hair in front of his face. The anxious display makes Steve feel even more tired, but he lets him pace. God, what is he even doing here?

"I'm sorry," Eddie blurts out. "I'm just..." he trails off and rushes over to grab a stool a few feet away before dragging it in front of the couch. He sits on it but his leg still holds that nervous energy as it rapidly bounces up and down. "I jumped to conclusions, and it was really shitty of me, man. I just... didn't believe what Henderson was saying about you and thought 'Oh, this makes way more sense than Steve Harrington being a good dude.' And I'm sorry to accuse you of that. And I... I didn't know about your... parents and stuff. Like I knew they were away a lot because of your parties but... I just never connected the dots. And I'm sorry. No one deserves that shit, man."

Steve doesn't know what to do this whole interaction, especially with it coming from Eddie Munson who he doesn't think he's ever talked to before this moment, but... he needs to hear it. God, he needs to hear it.

Of course, he can't let him know this, so he does what he's best at and brushes it off. "It's fine. You were just looking out for the kids. And really just ignore what I said back there, it isn't that big of a deal."

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he blurts out, "I know what it's like." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I mean, I know what it's like to have... absent parents. But in my case, eventually, my uncle Wayne took me in, and I can only imagine if he didn't." He gives him a pointed look and lowers his voice, "Do you have someone like that?"

A big part of Steve wants to leave right now, and he knows there's nothing stopping him. But a bigger part of him needs to stay. Needs to talk about the emptiness in his house that he can never truly escape at the end of the day that he can’t talk to anyone about. Because he's not supposed to be weak. He's supposed to take care of the others. So he admits, "No, I don't have... anyone like that. Except Robin but..."

"That's different," Eddie finishes the thought for him.

Steve nods. He loves Robin, but he loves her as a platonic soulmate and not as a parent figure in his life. "You know, I once had this basketball coach in middle school - Mr. Weston. And I remember looking up to him so much. I wanted to be just like him, and I would go to his office during lunch and ask him for advice or talk about dumb shit that my father would never talk about. But he never shamed me for my questions. And sometimes he even packed an extra dessert for me." Steve smiles at the memories and runs a hand through his hair, remembering the day he got the news. "But one time, when I went to his office, he had this look on his face. And I just knew it was bad news. And really, it wasn't bad news to him because his wife was pregnant. But she wanted to move a few states away to raise the kid closer to her family. And it wasn't his fault, you know? It wasn't like he purposely chose to move away from me, but I felt like I was abandoned again."

Steve wipes a tear from his eye and puts his head in his hands. "God, I don't know why I'm even telling you this story. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Eddie says quickly. He pauses and shifts on the stool, his gaze being far away. "I remember him. He was one of the only gym teachers that defended me against all the shitty middle school bullies. He was a good person.”

Steve nods. God, he was a good person.

Eddie continues, “I'm sorry that he left. And I bet he still regrets leaving you behind."

Steve leans back against the couch and looks away, shaking his head. "I bet he forgot about me."

"You're kind of hard to forget."

Steve looks at Eddie and sees a slight blush on his cheeks as he shakes his head and waves his hands as if trying to make the comment go away. "What I mean is that there's no way he's forgotten about you. Someone who you used to have lunch with all the time to the point of giving you free food... Nah, man. He remembers you. I think you may have been as important to him as he was to you."

The thought breaks away at a wall Steve had built up long ago. "Thanks," he practically whispers.

Eddie just smiles at him, small dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"You didn't deserve it either, you know," Steve says. "The absent parent stuff. Even with Wayne, they should've been here too."

Eddie's smile falters a bit as he swallows and looks at the ground. "Thanks," he mumbles. He looks up at Steve and comments, "Getting sappy with Steve Harrington. Who knew."

"Yeah, getting sappy with Eddie Munson," Steve echoes back at him.

Eddie laughs, "I'm surprised you even know my name."

"You're kind of hard to forget," Steve says easily.

That same blush comes back to Eddie who shifts in his chair a bit as if he needs to process the information with his whole body.

They sit in the moment for a bit before Eddie gets a somewhat serious look on his face and offers, "You know, I'm definitely not a parent figure or anything, but I'm always here and around to talk about that whole thing if you need to."

Steve's heart beats a little faster at the sheer genuineness. "Same here," he can't help but offer in return. He glances down at his watch and sighs, "It's getting late, so I better..."

"Right," Eddie says, standing up and leading him to the door. "Do you need water for the road or anything?"

Steve smiles and pats him on the back without thinking too hard about it. "I'm good, man. But thank you. For everything really."

"Sorry for being an asshole," Eddie apologizes again.

"Usually that's my line," Steve accidentally voices before cringing a bit, wondering further why Eddie's been so kind to him.

But as he opens the door, Eddie comments, "I don't know. It seems like Dustin was right about the whole reformed jock thing. Maybe your crown really has fallen - which is a good thing by the way."

Steve slightly smiles at him before he turns to leave. But he can't help but say, "I wonder what the neighbors will think about me leaving your trailer so late."

Eddie groans then laughs. "Sorry to ruin your image."

"I wouldn't mind," Steve replies, honestly unsure what he means by that. "Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Steve," Eddie says, that same blush on his cheeks, only this time Steve isn't sure if it's something he said or a result of the cold night air.

In bed that night, Steve feels a slight weight lifted from him and can't help but feel like he’s a little less alone.

[darylbae]

Daryl and breath play <3

Imagine him choking you out from behind as he roughly fucks up into you after you fucked up yet *another* resource run; drool running down your chin as you babble incoherently as his thick cock splits you open so wonderfully!

there ain't no god here — daryl dixon🩰

in which you mess up on a run, and daryl has had enough

note: SMUT WARNING! do not consume this content if you are under the age of 18, i am not liable for you reading past this point.

warnings: rough sex, dirty talk, bad writing.

You and Daryl have never had a nice relationship. From the moment the pair of you met, you'd been at each other's throats. Always arguing, always antagonizing each other, but there was something sizzling between the two of you. Which neither of you had noticed. Maggie said it first. When you'd all turned up to the farm, she'd asked you if the two of you were a thing, to which you laughed in her face. "As if I'd let Daryl put his hands on me," you exclaimed. "Dream on, girl," he'd call out as he passed the two of you outside. When the farm had been lost and you'd all found the prison, the two of you were incessant on arguing. It was just a constant cat fight between the two of you. Glenn had even made a comment about it feeling 'weirdly sexual'. Rick had learned to keep you apart, for the sake and sanity of the group. He was surprised you'd made it this far without physically fighting or fucking. The long winter on the road, hunting in the woods, finally finding Alexandria, you two just never clicked. It had even become a game of sorts, to inconvenience the other one, to push them just that little bit off the edge. The two of you were so caught up in this game of riling up the other, that people within the community were beginning to assume there was a spark between you. And Daryl heard none of it, until Spencer had approached him once. "Hey," he spoke awkwardly, too afraid to look at the archer who was aggressively buffing his crossbow with a cloth. "What." Daryl grumbled, not even bothering to look up from his weapon. He could tell by the lanky figure it was Spencer. "I, uh," Spencer was rambling, unable to get to his point, "I wanted to know if anything was going on between you and Y/N." "Why do you care?" "I was gonna ask her out, well, I was gonna ask her over for dinner. There's not much in the way of dating anymore." Spencer faltered, looking anywhere except at Daryl. "But I didn't know if there was actually a thing between you two, so I thought I should ask instead of listening to rumors." Daryl finally stopped fussing his crossbow. "Why would I care? Do what you want with 'er." Just as Spencer had retreated down the porch steps, Daryl had immediately regret what he'd said. But why? You frustrated him to his core, you got under his skin, you knew just how to make him tick. And he hated it, at least he thought he did. All he used to worry about were walkers. Now, they'd been pushed to the back burner of his mind. He's been so swept up in this little back and forth with you, that he'd forgotten how terrible the world was for a moment. Did he really care about the thought of you spending time with another guy?

Daryl had watched in dismay as you spent less time winding him up, and more time walking the streets with Spencer. It was almost as if you were riling him up by walking past the porch he'd sit on. It was jealousy, and almost a sick possession to want you all to himself. You, unbeknownst to Daryl, had no interest in Spencer. You spoke to him and spent time with him purely as a friend and to make connections within the community. So when you'd been sent on a run with Daryl, it felt nice to not have to play a part anymore. To just be around someone you were yourself with. Of course you cared about Daryl enough to not see him get killed, but the two of you have always been at each other's throats. That was kind of your thing. "We taking a car?" You asked Rick, folding your arms as you stood beside Michonne. It was supposed to be the four of you, but Deanna wanted to see Michonne and Rick. "My bike." Daryl retorted. "I suppose it makes it easier to throw myself off," you reasoned, scowling at Daryl, and you could see Michonne chuckle into her hand. "Please," Daryl bit back, striding towards his bike, "gives me a break from you." You had your arms around Daryl, holding on tightly as you sped down a long, narrow road. The wind whipped your hair into your face, and every time you felt inclined to swipe it away, Daryl made sure both of your hands were around him. He'd gripped your hand and forced it back onto his waist as you tried to smooth your hair down. When you'd gotten to a small town outside of the area, Daryl dismounted and helped you off the bike. It was the least he could do. You did your usual sweep of each store, and taking the stock you needed, occasionally being annoying and getting a series of grunts in return. "Didn't ya ever learn to shut up?" He spat, waving you off as he entered another aisle. You rolled your eyes, shoving stuff into the backpack you'd brought along. "Didn't you ever learn to treat women nicely?" You had aggravated him the entire run. Instead of moving things out the way so both of you could pass, you'd just climb over it and let Daryl deal with it himself. Instead of listening to him, you'd go off and do exactly what you wanted to. Daryl felt like a babysitter. "Surprised Spencer puts up with ya." Daryl mumbled, shining a flashlight into a dark back room, only to find dead walkers and upturned furniture. "Excuse me?" "Ya heard me, girl." "Spencer doesn't have to put up with anything." You remarked, folding your arms. "So it's just me then? Ya annoy me and not ya own damn boyfriend!" Daryl's voice grew louder, the two of you so caught up in arguing that you'd almost forgotten the dead were out to get you. "Spencer's not my boyfriend!" Oh, Daryl thought. His heart lifted for a moment, until he'd seen a walker come out of the room behind you. Without hesitation, he shot an arrow through it's skull, and watched as you caught your breath. "Get in 'ere." Daryl demanded, grabbing your hand and leading you into a vacant bathroom. "Always messin' up the damn thing." "What?" You answered, voice small and still shaking with fear. You'd never come that close to death before. A walkers hands had grabbed your shoulders, it's teeth mere inches away from you. "Why don't ya listen to me, huh?" He whisper-yelled, his grip still firm on your hand. "Always runnin' off and doin' what ya want. Ya need manners, girl." "I need manners? When have you ever said a nice word to me? When have you ever thought about me in any positive way?" Daryl paused, was it the time for this?

"Every fuckin' day. Every mornin', every night. Every damn time I see ya, I can't not think about ya." Daryl admitted, frustration still laced in his voice. "All ya do is drive me insane." Both of you were breathing heavily, tension still clouding the air in this very small bathroom. You were almost chest to chest with the little space available in here. Daryl was thinking with the recently unlocked part of his brain that just contained you. Every glance he'd ever sent your way, every time he'd seen you stretch and show the hem of your underwear, every time he'd look down at you and see those innocent eyes staring back up at him. There was nothing that felt as right as this. His lips were on yours, and you'd moved against his like you'd done it regularly. Hell, you thought about it at times. When you were lonely in your cell, in your room in Alexandria, the hatred went hand in hand with passion, and you were so overfilled with lust that it had all blurred into one. Every bitter word the two of you threw at each other, it fueled the fire that you were both burning in now. He'd gripped at the clothes he wanted gone, and you'd silently obey him. His calloused hands swiped over your neck, and it had awoken a side of you that was powered off when the world ended. "Oh, you like that, huh?" He asked, his voice no longer containing it's usual gruffness. It was whiny, almost poking fun at how you were putty in his hands. You just sighed in response, giving up any self control you had. It was all his now, to do with it as he pleased. "Gotta teach ya a lesson, girl," he breathed into your ear, hands on your shoulders and spinning you round the other way. You hadn't realized the mirror facing you, your tinged cheeks and sleepy eyes clouded over with lust.

Daryl's lips grazed the curve of your neck, daring to place a kiss on your soft, pure skin. He wanted to toy with you, like you did with him every day. Sauntering around, giving looks you'd only give to him, leaving him to deal with his hard-on in the middle of the night. "Ya gonna listen to me now, hm." You could feel his hands gliding closer to the inside of your thigh, heat burning between your legs. You didn't just want it, you needed it. You arched your back into him, rubbing against whatever you could. Needed the friction, the look in your eyes almost primal. Daryl smirked at you in the mirror, holding your gaze as he spat on his hand. Your fingers squeezed the counter as he slid into you, the two of you completely in sync as you moaned out for each other. The feeling purely nostalgic. "God," you cried, your eyebrows knitted together and your lip quivering. "There ain't no God here, girl, just me." One of his hands gripped your thigh as rammed into you, jerking your hip bones into the counter. If you weren't so wrapped up in Daryl, it would ache. But you couldn't stop, not even to readjust, you needed Daryl to carry you to your high. His other hand snaked up your body, sensually rubbing at your breasts, of which he'd caught glimpses of for years. Finally seeing them felt... satisfying. All the times you'd fiddle with your shirt, exposing them just barely, and Daryl would have to be a gentleman and look away. His hand finally reached your neck and he'd gripped both sides with his fingers and thumb. He'd peered at you through the mirror, catching the whites of your eyes as you rolled them back. Seeing how delighted you looked, it made him feel good. He knew just how to make you tick. "Ya gonna do as I say from now on," he breathed, squeezing tighter on your throat, "you're all mine, girl." "Yeah," you croaked, Daryl's grip on your throat and him inside of you rendered you unable to speak, you were just allowing him to do whatever he wanted. "All yours." He'd suddenly stopped and you whimpered at the loss of contact. Daryl had turned you around again, hooking his arms under your ass and lifting you onto the counter. "Wanna see that pretty face." He'd entered you again, filling you up and you were back to seeing stars as he pumped into you. His grunts and moans were close to sending you over the edge. His hand found your throat again, squeezing on the familiar spot and Daryl's eyes flickered to your breasts as the bounced with every thrust. They were entrancing. He was close to finishing, but he wanted to savor this moment. He wanted this, you, over and over again. He could see the drool escaping your lips and running down your chin, some dropping onto your breasts. He almost finished at the sight of it all. "Let go for me, girl." He moaned, bringing you closer to him for the final few thrusts. "Come on. Good girl." Your body took over, sending you over the edge and quivering on him. Daryl held your body tight, careful not to let you go. His rhythm had gotten sloppier, he couldn't hold it, just knowing this was all with you, all for you, he let go himself and caught your gaze as he did so. There was nothing he'd change about this, the tiny bathroom, the argument beforehand, the relationship the two of you had before. It all led to this, and he'd do it again. Exactly the same.

[lesbojournals]

Poly!Marauders x Slytherin!Reader

part one two four five

The answer is, the feeling didn’t go away. In fact, it festered and grew larger with every passing day.

It didn’t help that Sirius Black had it out now to tease you, especially pointing out in Potions that “You’d be far better off sharing the table with us, sweetheart. You really want to work with Snivilus?”

To which you rolled your eyes and apologized to your housemate, that you honestly didn’t even get along with that much. You would be having a better time in Potions with Sirius, Remus, and James.

Without even realizing it, the boys were slowly starting to become “the boys”, and not Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and James Potter. They were starting to feel like they were more than that.

You left the library that day with a heavy load of books in your hands, struggling to keep them steady as they towered over your vision. You heard footsteps approaching (much faster than your slow steady ones) and came to a halt. 

Deep brown eyes popped over the stack of books and looked down at you.

“Love, let me take those. Here.” With ease, James took your stack of books from your arms as if they weighed nothing. 

“To the dungeons?” He asked, gentle smile on his face.

You nodded, trying desperately (and failing) not to blush at how handsome he looked, and how charming it was for him to take the books, and-

“Wait, James, I can take them. I got it.” You insisted, and this time it was James who came to a stop.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind the walk-”

“Dolly!” Sirius exclaimed from behind, and you internally groaned. 

Having all of the boys around was nice, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed it a little too much. The feeling has your heart in a chokehold, and with each second more you spend with the boys it feels like it’s going to explode. 

You turned around. “If it isn’t Mr. Black. Oh, and Remus!”

Sirius put his hand up to his chest in fake hurt. “Why does he get the bashful, ‘oh, and Remus!’ while I’m stuck with ‘Mr. Black’.”

You didn’t have an answer for him, so you stuck out your tongue.

Remus shook his head, then looking between you and James. “Where are we headed? Dungeons? I know Jamie’s not picking up any extra reading with Quidditch.”

James took this as initiative to start walking. “Yep. Can you believe lovie tried to take all of these books herself?”

Sirius put an arm around you as you walked. “When will you learn that Jamie’s the muscle, dolly. Take advantage of it.”

You tried not to squeal at Sirius’ touch. He kept his arm around you as you walked. 

When you made it to the dungeons (with Sirius’ arm still around you) the boys turned to you. There was silence for a few seconds.

“Wanna meet us for dinner later, sweets?” James hesitantly passed the books over to you.

“Of course she does,” Sirius answered for you, taking Remus’ hand in his. “See you in the Great Hall dolly!”

Before you could respond, they walked away, Remus sending you a sheepish wave as Sirius began to talk to James.

You entered the common room slowly, already missing having James to hold your books. 

“You’ve been hanging out with those idiot Gryffindors a lot lately.” Lucius commented from his spot on the couch next to Narcissa. 

“I think it’s nice.” Narcissa defended you, and gave you a small smile.

“I think Junior was right about them being your new boyfriends.” Severus sneered from his spot across from Narcissa and Lucius.

You sighed, your books wobbling in your hands. “Can we stop commenting on them? And they’re not my boyfriends.”

Narcissa jumped to help you as your books wobbled more, and Severus rolled his eyes at you. “Whatever.”

In the dormitory, Narcissa helped you organize your books by your nightstand. You groaned and fell back onto your bed, loosening your green tie. 

“Something wrong?” Narcissa hummed, and didn’t take her eyes off the books.

You covered your face with your hands and grumbled. “I’m going to sit at the Gryffindor table for dinner.”

That brought Narcissa to turn to you with wide eyes. “Really?”

You turned your head away and groaned again. You didn’t want to talk about it–but the boys were consuming your every thought. You hated to admit that you were excited about sitting with the Gryffindors at their table. Narcissa didn’t ask anymore questions, eventually leaving you to stir in your emotions as the clock ticked closer to dinner.

At dinner time, you groaned loudly once again. Time to get up. You dragged your feet out of the dorm and out of the common room, opting to ignore the comments of your fellow housemates. 

At the Great Hall, you made eye contact with Regulus, who stared at you in horror as you walked away from the Slytherin table and towards the Gryffindor table.

“Hey!” James waved at you with elation, and a small smile grew on your face.

Sirius leaned back from beside James and smiled wide. “Darling! Come sit next to Rem.”

You glanced at Remus who had a welcoming aura about him. He scooted over so you’d have more room to sit, looking down at the spot and then back up at you.

You put your bag down and sat down next to Remus. “Yeah, sure.” 

[coastershells]

S W E E T S . .

IN WHICH — dallas has a girlfriend , but you can tell that his attention goes somewhere else completely.

not proofread (when do I ever?) / requested? | no : yes

⚠️ : none , slightly suggestive at the end i suppose , though?

ᥫ᭡. / wc : 1.1k

“ dallas , no. ” you shake your head at the boy waiting at your window.

“ come on , you gotta be so difficult all the time? ” he says , resting his arms on the inside of your window. you slowly try to shrug them off. he readjusted before you could. “ it’s not like she’ll know. ” he mumbles bitterly and you sigh.

“ that’s the thing , dallas. she does know. you have a girlfriend you could be spending time with. this won’t work out. ” you say as you attempt to close the window. he uses his right arm to stop you. “ i’ll tell her i told you to back off. come on. ” he says , urging you to let him in.

you know he won’t go without getting in , and he might refuse to go and spend the night again.

you really don’t want either of those to happen.

the poor girl he has to decided to cheat on was sylvia , she was your best friend , and heavy on was. dallas and her were dating off and on , but nobody intervened with it because dallas wouldn’t answer any questions and sylvia was rude to anyone who asked.

you don’t even know why she was mad , dallas told you she was the one who cheated. twice , actually , but you weren’t that close to dallas at the time. you moreover cared about sylvia.

until.. he started falling for you. you think?

you don’t know whether he’s trying to play you like he has done other girls or if he’s actually trying to start something. you don’t know if he’s begged to get into other girls houses and spend the night cuddling them , letting them talk until they fall asleep.. you don’t know.

“ dallas , i can’t. you gotta go home. ”

“ sweets , ” he breathes out. “ i ain’t never done nothin’ to you. what have i ever done to you? ‘s complicated. ” he huffs in annoyance.

“ uh.. force yourself into my bedroom? ”

“ i don’t force myself in there. but if you don’t let me yourself then i will. ” he shrugs and he looks around outside. “ speakin’ of which , it’s fuckin’ freezin , doll. wanna let me in now? “ he fake shivers and you roll your eyes. you notice he still has his hand holding the window open.

“ dallas.. ”

“ don’t call me that. call me dal , or make up a different name. that’s what the fuzz calls me. ” he sighs. “ dallas winston. ” he mocks.

“ well , that’s your name isn’t it? ”

“ call me dal from now on. i’ll call you all the cute names , sweet thing. ”

you realize he’s making small talk , so with him holding the window open , and your hand slowly sliding from it , you let out a heavy over dramatic sigh and he makes a sound of happiness. “ fine. come in. ”

he’s just about in your room and closing the window before you finish that sentence , and he’s already looking around and invading every corner of your room yet again.

“ looks different as hell in here. why’d you move your vanity? i know it took awhile. you could’ve just called me over. ”

you crossed your arms and gave him a scowl. “ my dad moved it for me , actually. ” you shrug past him and go to your bed , fixing up the pillows. “ i don’t need you here for everything , dalla — ”

“ how about you try that sentence , one more time? ” he puts a finger up , and you turn to face him.

“ right , how rude of me. dal , i don’t need you here for everything. ”

“ mhm. “ he says , looking back at you. he definitely knows you did it yourself. it’s slightly crooked. “ got a lighter? “ he asks and you blow your breath.

“ i don’t do that stuff. if you’re planning on it , you can see yourself out again. “

“ nah , nah i’ll just wait till morning then. “ he mutters the last part , and slips off his shoes along with his jacket , discarding it onto the floor. “ so , you gonna let me stay the night or are you gonna kick this poor puppy to the curb? ”

you groan , and relax. “ did i really have a choice? ”

“ nope. you’re learning , baby. ”

you wave him off and watch him walk over and make himself comfortable on your bed. you grimace. “ dal , that’s fuckin’ nasty. ”

“ all i did was lay down. ”

“ that shirt is filthy. take it off — ” you don’t realize what you’re saying before he smiles. “ alright , your wish is my command. ”

as he takes his shirt off , you make sure not to look his way. “ you’re disgusting , dal. “ he sighs and gets under your blanket like it’s his. he rests his head on his hands , and does nothing but stare at you. you awkwardly gulp , and it leaves you to think.

why did dallas decide on you? what’s so special about you exactly?

so with nothing to lose , already having lost your best friend , you ask.

“ dal. ”

“ mhhm , doll? “ he says , it looks like he’s caught in a trance.

“ why do you like me? ”

dallas seems to actually think , snapping out of his trance and that makes you worry.

“ you’re pretty. ‘s pretty. love your voice. wish you talked to me more. id pay to hear that. damn , you don’t know how fumed i was when you got when that soc last year. ”

you clear your throat. “ i’ve never dated before. he wasn’t my boyfriend , just a friend. “

dallas raises an eyebrow with a smile on his face. “ a friend , huh? and you’ve never dated? shiit , i was worrying for nothing. “

you blink , and you wonder what he could possibly mean by that.

“ c’mere. i’ll show you what a good time is. “ dallas says as he pulls you in by the waist , closer to him and now above him.

“ ever wanted to be a cowgirl? ” dallas teases and you frown.

you’re already at rock bottom , so does it really matter?

you don’t think it does. sylvia already hates you and two-bit already ranted on how much dallas talks about you.

you probably would’ve ended up in his hands anyway.

DUDE this layout is so old it was at the bottom of my drafts. if you can’t tell how long is long then this was supposed to be posted with uhhh… “ crime love “ i think? anyway.. uh. sorry for the people who get pinged everytime for short stuff like this 😓 ( i’m not sorry ur stuck forever mwahahahaahaajjgjrisnfne)

taglist : @mrsdillonx , @every1hatesmayaa , @r0seb100d , @staygoldmarty

[latteunwoo]

miss independent || s.coups

↪  "miss independent, that's why i love her~" in which a girl who has always done things herself meets a guy she can be soft with.

pairing: non!idol seungcheol x oc

genre: fluff

A/N: Requested by my friend. Do note that most of the content are not real/accurate because this is an AU (Alternate Universe).

seventeen m.list || main m.list

Rianna had always been the type to do things on her own. She always gave the "I don't need a man" vibes. She never waited for anyone to open doors for her, never asked for help carrying heavy bags of grocceries, always did things for others herself, and just never let herself rely on anyone in any shape or form.

And then came Choi Seungcheol.

She met him at a small cafe near her apartment while waiting for her friend so they could study together. It was the kind of place she liked because it was quiet and unassuming. She had been balancing her coffee in one hand and her laptop in the other when someone had reached out and steadied her cup before it could spill.

"Careful there," a warm deep voice said behind her as she looked up to find a deep brown eyed boy with an easy, knowing smile plastered on his face. "Wouldn't want to waste a good cup of coffee."

She scoffed lightly, setting her laptop down on her table. "I had it under control."

"Of course you did," he chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "Just didn't want your day to start with a disaster."

She meant to brush him off, but something about his presence was...steady. Unrushed. Confident without being overbearing. He ended up sitting at the table across from hers, and before she knew it she had completely forgotten about the fact that she was still waiting for her friend and the two of them were talking. She learned his name was Seungcheol, he lived a few blocks away from her apartment, they went to the same university but he was a year younger and in a different department, and he also had a habit of showing up at the cafe around the same time she did. How did she not notice until now.

Slowly, she let him in.

It started with small things. He'd walk her home if they left the cafe at the same time. He'd bring her an extra pastry when he noticed she skipped breakfast. He'd tease her gently when she insisted she didn't need help carrying her books, but still reached out to take them from her.

"You know you're allowed to let someone else take care of you?" he said one evening as they sat across each other in the university's library.

Rianna looked up from her book at him, raising a brow. "I take care of myself just fine though."

"I know," he agreed easily. "That's one of the things I admire about you. But strength doesn't mean you have to do everything alone."

She didn't respond right away. No one had ever put it like that before. She had spent so much time proving that she could stand on her own that she never considered what it would feel like to have someone standing beside her. Not because they thought she was weak, but because they wanted to.

So, she let herself lean more towards him.

She let him pull her into a hug when she was exhausted from a long day. She let him open the door for her before she could even lift her arm up to grab the handle. She let him hold the heavier grocery bags; while still insisting that he should at least still let her carry some of the lighter ones. She let him hold her hand without overthinking what it meant. She let him see her when she wasn't polished and in control-- when she was just Rianna, no armor, no walls.

And he never had once made her feel like she was having to give up a part of herself. If anything, he made her feel stronger.

One night, as they stood outside her apartment, she turned to him and said softly, "I don't think I've ever let anyone in like this before."

Seungcheol smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Then I guess I'm lucky to be the first."

She wasn't sure when it happened, but she slowly realized something undeniable: with him, she didn't have to be Miss Independent all the time.

She could just be his.

Their relationship grew in ways she never expected. One weekend, after an especially stressful work week, she found herself curled up on his couch, wrapepd in one of his oversized hoodies while he played with her fingers absentmindedly.

"You always push yourself so hard," he murmured pouting his lips slightly, watching her with quiet affection. "Let me take care of you sometimes. I told you, you don't have to carry the whole world on your shoulders."

She exhaled, sinking further into his warmt. "I don't know how to let go. It's...hard."

"I know," he said, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "But I'm not going anywhere. So whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

And slowly, she truly learned.

She learned that love wasn't about losing herself, but about finding someone who saw her, truly saw her, and stayed anyway. She learned that leaning on someone didn't mean she was weak but more so it meant that she had someone other than her best friend that she could trust enough to share the weight.

One evenning, after she had ap articulary rough day, she walked into his apartment and sighed heavily, kicking off her shoes.

Without a word, Cheol opened up his arms, and she stepped into them without hesitation.

He didn't ask questions, didn't push her to talk. He just held her, his hand smoothing over her hair, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear.

"I've got you," he whispered.

And for the first time in her life, she truly believed it.

[voxslays]

Can I request headcanons for sinner!Adam with a sinner!s/o dying in his arms? How would he react and how would he move on, if at all?

hi! thank you for requesting. i love angsty tropes so much—especially the ‘dying in someone’s arms’ trope. i also included a Lucifer segment (mostly because I can’t help myself…) and I hope that’s okay with you! thanks! <3

ARMS TONIGHT

Adam and Lucifer with a sinner S/O who is fatally wounded during one of the exterminations and dies in their arms. Very angsty.

Adam

Adam wasn’t afraid. After the last extermination he didn’t think things could get worse. In fact, they seemed to be getting better. I mean, he met you afterall, didn’t he? He was learning to adjust to the life of a ‘lowly’ sinner. And slowly, he began to realize maybe not all sinners were bad. Don’t get me wrong, Adam still hates sinners—especially the ones at Lucifer’s bitch daughter’s tacky hotel…but then he met you. And you were always such an Angel.

Adam knew the extermination was coming up again. But the girls he raised and trained (and was like a father figure to) wouldn’t kill him. Adam knew they couldn’t even if they tried. He may have been harsh but he was really the only family they had growing up. And Lute specifically would never order his death.

But you were a different story—you were a sinner and always had been. In the angels eyes, you were a worthless piece of trash just waiting to be put out of your misery. So when extermination day rolled around—having gone through decades of exterminations, you begged Adam to hide out with you. But he refused—saying he needed to do ‘something’. So you waited for him to return.

You waited and waited until an exorcist found your hiding spot. The angel slowly impaled you with her spear. Your death was not only slow, but extremely painful. You cried out for your loving boyfriend in your last moments, but received no reply—only the muffled screams outside—And then everything went black.

Adam would return shortly after, to see your lifeless body lying in a pool of blood, a spear still lodged in your now cold chest. He would run to your lifeless body and cradle it while holding back tears. How could he be so stupid? Of course the exterminators would go after you. And Adam would forever be cursed with the knowledge that he was too late to save you from your fate.

I honestly think it would take Adam a long time to move on. It definitely did with Lillith and Eve. This man was already broken as is from the trauma of his two past wives leaving him for the same man. And now his almost third? He still has the ring he would’ve proposed to you with in his back pocket—and will now carry it with him for all time, thinking about what could’ve been.

Lucifer

Lucifer was afraid. His family had always been very important to him (that’s why he went into a depressive slump for seven-ish years when Lillith left), so of course when he had the chance to sign an agreement with heaven, stating that only sinners could be harmed by the yearly exterminations if he stayed out of their affairs and stopped causing a commotion, he signed immediately.

Luci had also never really cared for sinners. He went through all the trouble to give them free will—even getting cast away from heaven, into the dark abyss of hell—and they just chose drugs, sex and violence!? He has a long ongoing grudge against them until he meets you. You were one of the sinners looking for redemption in his daughter’s passion project—the Hazbin Hotel! And Lucifer was truly happy you wanted to support her as much as you did. You were almost a better mother than Lillith without even trying—which is truly an incredible feat.

The two of you grew closer, eventually finding reasons to meet up outside of the hotel. Lucifer was extremely nervous and closed off before, but quickly opens up to you. And somewhere inbetween the months you spend so close together, he asks to court you, which you obviously say yes to. Yay!

Anyways, before you knew it—it was extermination day. The angels had already made it loud and clear that they would attack the hotel first, and everyone was busying preparing. Alastor had made a huge green shield around the property, and everyone else was getting suited up and ready for battle. You were busy fighting an exorcist. You hear Luci call your name and you turn your head only for a split second, which is enough time for the exorcist to brutally stab you in both the thigh and through the chest.

Lucifer runs over to you tears clouding his vision as he takes out any exorcist within twenty feet of you (wow!) and cradles your dying body. The worst part is he knows he can’t save you. You’ve already lost too much blood—and while he tries to use his powers, it doesn’t help one bit. Like Adam, Lucifer is also cursed with the knowledge that he couldn’t save one of the people he loved the most in this hellhole (besides Charlie ofc).

Won’t be able to move on and will be stuck in another depressive slump for a few months at best—a few years at worst. But at least this time he has Charlie and the rest of the hotel gang (besides that radio freak Bambi) to help him through it.

A/N: I might write a part two with Alastor and Vox!

[augustvandyne]

Reader finds out that Lucy needs a fake girl/boyfriend to take to her family bbq, reader steps up and offers to go with her. After a great night, Reader walks Lucy to her apartment door, where Lucy finally admits to herself that she likes reader and invites her inside. (R, is a cop also.)

Lucy Chen x Reader.

family barbecue

“Please!”

A begging Lucy grabs your attention.

It isn’t really anything new, because she begs for a lot of things, but you couldn’t help but listen when you heard the words family barbeque come out of her mouth.

You turn your head to see who she was begging, and you see Tim Bradford, her T.O.

It didn’t make sense to you about how or why she would ask Mr. Grumpy Officer Cupcake, but to each their own, right?

Wrong. Because he shoots her down – for the fourth time this week, you learn after Tim shoots her a glare – and a pout comes onto her face.

You see her look at Nolan, who immediately shakes his head no.

You’d known how her parents were, as the two of you frequently hung out together, but you’ve never met them. And maybe that was for the best, because you might be in jail for 25 to life for murder.

Lucy turns her head the slightest bit to see you, and she just shrugs, officially giving up.

You step forward a few feet, coming to her side.

“What’s this I hear about a family barbecue?” You lift your brows curiously.

She huffs and looks at you from the side, seemingly tired of talking about it already, because family talk stressed her out, and presence there is mandatory.

“My cousin is having a barbecue,” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “It’s so stupid. Just— forget it.”

She turns to leave — most likely the break room so she can sit in misery for her lunch break — but you grab her by the arm to stop her.

“Hey, hey,” You look down at her. “Tell me about it. Please.”

You see her eyes shift to your lips from the close proximity, but think nothing of it.

She was just looking somewhere other than your eyes, and they just happened to land on your lips.. right?

“It’s a stupid family get together and a night or two ago my mom called me about it and so I said yeah I’ll come and for some reason I said I’d bring someone and I don’t have a— a someone,” She balls her fists up at her sides. “So now here I am, begging for someone to go with me and act as my boyfriend because I don’t want to look like a liar at this stupid barbecue that I don’t want to go to now because I’m single and I’ll be bullied and ridiculed the whole time if I show up without someone with me.”

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” You put your hand on her shoulder at an attempt to calm her down. “Take a breath,” You breathe in and out with her.

“And Tim and John said no, so I’m out of options.”

“I’ll go with you.”

It was a simple statement. Four words. A promise.

And yet Lucy didn’t believe her ears.

“What?”

“I said I’ll go with you. I’ll act as your girlfriend.”

“No, I heard you. I just don’t understand why.”

“Because I know you, Luce,” You give a soft smile. “I know that you’ll end up going and hating yourself for it and I’ll end up running into you crying on Monday and I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”

Lucy wants to ask what you mean, but she doesn’t because you aren’t finished speaking.

“So I will go with you. I can’t let you go alone and be abused with questions from your parents. Especially since they already hate on you for your choice of job.”

“This means a lot to me,” She grabs your hand and squeezes softly, your heart skipping a beat. “You have no idea.”

“Just let me know what time. I’ll pick you up,” You smiled back at her and stepped a few feet back, going to find your TO.

She asked you to be there around twelve, and you were right on time. You even showed up with a bouquet of her favorite flowers.

You came to the door, which she insisted you didn’t need to do, but you did anyway, and proceeded to open the car door for her as well.

She attempts to hide her blush, and luckily you’re too busy trying to start the car that you don’t notice.

Lucy doesn’t really speak on the way to her cousins house, and you’re sure it’s due to nerves.

She only speaks once you get there, and it’s to warn you, once again, but you shut her down because you already know. You’re more than capable and more than willing to step in today and be whatever she needs to you to be.

You walk around your car and let Lucy out, already turning heads of her family members who were out front.

Once she was out of the car, her mother was on the two of you in an instant.

She must be a mind reader or something, because how did she know the two of you were there? Nobody had said anything.

“Hello. You must be Lucy’s..”

“Girlfriend,” The two of you say at the same time.

“Girlfriend,” She nods, her face unsure. “And how did you meet this.. girlfriend of yours?”

Her eyes are trained on your face, but her words are pointed at Lucy, and you can feel her shift beside you.

You move your hand to her back, giving her the confidence she needed.

She turns her head and sees you smiling at her with encouragement, and all of the sudden she’s able to tell her.

“We met at the station,” Lucy smiles giddily. “We’re in the same rookie group snd I liked her as soon as I met her. Really. Her eyes are gorgeous.. I could lost in them all day. And I know you hate when I talk about my work, but you asked, so.. when she was injured I rushed to the hospital and I just had to be there for her because I was in love with her and she needed me. I asked her out after that. And so.. here we are.”

You feel your breath leave your lungs because that was a true story. It’d happened only a few months ago, and although she didn’t ask you out, it still felt real because only now were you realizing the way she looked at you wasn’t in a friendship kind of way.

“That’s nice,” Vanessa cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable with the fact that her daughter was not only a cop but was now dating a woman.

“Mom—“

“Come on, your father and Alexandra are waiting. She invited you and it’s not nice to be late,” She grabbed Lucy’s arm and you walked behind her.

She looked uncomfortable but there was nothing you could do now.

You made a mental note to take her for slushies later to make her feel better.

Her mother takes the lead and you walk up to stand beside Lucy.

“I wish I could say I’ll get you out of here in an hour, but I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Yeah, definitely not,” She looks down sadly, and all you want to do is hold her because you never want to see her upset.

“Hey,” You grab her hand. “We’re gonna have fun, okay?”

“Okay,” A small smile comes onto her lips, and you pull her in for a hug.

“Come on,” Vanessa snapped at both of you and you have to keep yourself from getting heated with her.

“Come on,” Lucy mocked once Vanessa was out of earshot.

You snort and Lucy looks at you with those eyes, and that’s when you knew you were done for.

“Walk me to the door,” She requested, and your eyes are drawn to her blue raspberry stained lips.

“I was already planning on it,” You shrug nonchalantly, but you can’t help but notice the blush on her cheeks.

You open the door for her once again and let her lead the way to the apartment door.

Once stopped in front of her door, she unlocks it slowly, dreading the moment she had to say goodbye.

Because although she hated family events, being there with you made it more bearable, and she didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.

She opens the door and turns to you, “Do you want to come in?”

You think for a second about what would happen if you said yes, because you’re realizing that maybe you do like her more than a friend, but then you’re accepting the invitation and you’re shutting the door behind you, not a care in the world.

[altaiiriss]

Repost from Trans Chuuya week 2024

Day 7 – Free Day

At fifteen, Chuuya is inevitably forced to spend way too much time around Dazai, courtesy of a gleeful Mori who thought it would be a good idea to pair them together.

They're in one of the mafia's safehouses when Chuuya finds out Dazai doesn't only cover his arms, but wears bandages all over his torso as well. He's helping the brunet with a bullet wound right below his chest and seeing how the bandages hug his skin tightly, Chuuya has an idea.

He steals one roll of bandages while Dazai is asleep, careful not to wake him up, then promptly enters the bathroom once he gets back to his apartment.

He stands in front of the mirror and reluctantly removes both his shirt and his bra, freeing his skin from the irritating fabric. He averts his gaze from the naked reflection in front of him, and with trembling hands he starts to wrap white strings of gauze around his chest.

He puts his shirt back on and heaves a sigh of relief as soon as his eyes finally settle on the mirror. His chest looks almost flat, as if it just disappeared, and a faint blush enlightens Chuuya's freckled cheeks.

The newfound "chest destruction technique"—that's what Chuuya calls it—boosts his confidence, though in the back of his mind he wonders how Dazai manages to keep all those bandages together.

Chuuya's always feel on the verge of falling off especially during combat, but he's too unsure to ask him. Dazai wouldn't understand the discomfort of looking at your own chest and wanting to rip it off; he would probably tell Chuuya he's an idiot, wouldn't he?

He's just a girl to Dazai—and anyone else really—therefore he wouldn't get it. On the contrary, people would most likely pity him for his small size, which is supposed to be a loss for a girl.

So, Chuuya simply goes on with his life, burying that 'I wish I were a boy' feeling in the back of his mind and ignoring all the times Dazai calls him a whiny girl or Kouyou asks if he's interested in make-up lessons.

It doesn't make any sense. It seems that mind and body go hand in hand for everyone but him.

He feels like a goddamn flaw in the system.

He tries to shove those feelings aside until one day he's changing outfits for an undercover mission–he's going as Dazai's girlfriend, of course–and Kouyou accidentally steps into the room.

Chuuya's arms instinctively fly to his chest while he tries to come up with some excuses to justify the bandages compressing his chest to the point it hurts. Kouyou doesn't fall for it and eventually gets Chuuya to admit he's been doing it for months.

Kouyou's jaw drops, disappointment painted all over her face, and Chuuya waits for a reprimand, an admonishment, anything.

Instead, Kouyou pats his head and asks for permission to help him with the bandages.

"This isn't safe, honey. Let's keep the bandages loose for now, okay? We can try sports bras if that's okay with you."

That day Chuuya learns about the word 'trans' and his feelings start to make a bit more sense.

Kouyou asks him whether he'd like to be referred to with different terms and pronouns and Chuuya gladly accepts, and there's a new light shining in his eyes.

The next day the young girl takes him on a shopping spree so that he can look for sports bras that are tight enough to flatten his chest without hurting his body. They also visit the men's section and for the first time Chuuya isn't too scared to step into the fitting room and stare at himself in the mirror.

Even though Chuuya never dressed in what is considered a stereotypical feminine way, people start to notice the shift in his style and even in his demeanor.

He isn't exactly in the closet, but hasn't explicitly come out yet because he finds the whole ordeal quite embarrassing.

What is he supposed to do? Grab a mic and tell the whole Port Mafia he's a trans boy? He'd rather die; plus it's no one's business really. They'll realise eventually.

That's why one day he's taken by surprise while he's arguing with Dazai.

"Sorry?" he asks, arching a brow.

"Has Chuuya become deaf?" Dazai remarks, annoyed, "I said he should buy a supply of milk or else he's going to be a small boy for the rest of his life."

The shift in pronouns was natural and none of them questioned it, but Dazai never called him a boy before.

Chuuya ignores the usual insult, basking in the warmth growing in his chest.

Some time later, Chuuya finds a package waiting for him outside the door. There's a small card that reads 'For all the bandages slug stole from me'.

Ah, of course the fucker knew.

He opens the box, expecting some kind of unfunny prank; instead, his brow furrows as he realises he's holding trans tape in his hand.

He's glad he's alone right now and no one is there to mock him, so he allows himself to let the tears run down his cheeks.

Quietly, Dazai escapes from the bathroom window.

On his 17th birthday, Kouyou gifts him his first binder.

Chuuya isn't excited at first as he assumes it isn't much different from a sports bra. He changes his mind immediately as he tries it on and looks at himself in the mirror.

"This can't be real." he mutters to himself and he promptly grabs one of his tightest shirts.

"Ane-san!" he turns to Kouyou, enthusiasm getting the best of him, "They're gone—what? W-Why are you crying!?"

That day Chuuya learns that you don't have to fully understand people's happiness to the core to be able to experience it together.

One night he and Dazai are lying in the redhead's king-size bed, the moon being the only source of light and the only witness of the time they secretly spent together.

It's a habit they developed at some point, and neither of them dare question it. By the time the sun is up, Dazai will be gone and will act like nothing happened anyway.

Dazai's bandages are gone and so is Chuuya's binder—they never hide themselves from each other. There's some sort of intimacy that allows them to tear down the walls they built up against the world.

Chuuya is tracing random patterns on Dazai's arm with his fingertips when the brunet suddenly speaks.

"You know, some people get their top surgery scars tattooed."

Chuuya hums. "Do you want me to get them tattooed too?"

"It's Chuuya's choice. Besides, he needs to get top surgery first."

"Right," Chuuya mumbles, voice unsure, "Do you think I should get them covered?"

"Chuuya doesn't have to hide himself." he replies, sensing the direction of the redhead's thoughts. "That isn't why I suggested it."

Eventually Chuuya has Dazai admit he brought up the idea just because he thinks Chuuya would look good with tattoos. Particularly good.

"You can get your scars tattooed too, you know." Chuuya tentatively suggests.

"I have a bit too many, slug."

"Who cares? You can pick the one that hurt the most."

"I can't cover my soul in tattoos, Chuuya."

When Chuuya wakes up from anesthesia, his first thought is to ask for Dazai. He promised he would be there, and that's why when Chuuya's eyes scan the empty room, save for Kouyou sitting at the edge of the bed, he assumes that he must have gone to the bathroom or something. Right?

His mind isn't clear enough yet to remember that the bastard defected two years ago without a word. Drugs truly do some fun things to your brain.

Kouyou offers him a sad smile and reassures him that Dazai is waiting for him at home.

When he finally steps into his apartment, peeking with curiosity at the couple of scars on his chest, he doesn't even remember he asked for that idiot in the first place.

And when several months later Chuuya comes back from a mission abroad, a small card awaits him on his bed. There's an address written over it.

Now, Chuuya isn't stupid. All it takes is a quick trip to google to realise that said address matches his favourite tattoo artist.

When he gets there, hands slightly trembling, a familiar figure is waiting for him. Obnoxiously tall, messy brown curls, amber eyes and a tan coat—the last one is new, but it definitely suits him better.

"I hope she's still your favourite artist." the other man speaks quietly, voice filled with nervousness.

Chuuya finally relaxes.

"And I hope you have finally picked your favourite scar, mackerel." the redhead replies, a warm smile adorning his face.

Dazai doesn't know he has already been forgiven years ago.

"Come on, let's go in."

[hai7ani]

divorced parents au / with your faves

When your daughter turned two, you and your husband had brought her to Disneyland as her birthday gift. Growing up, Umi was always fond of the 12 Disney Princesses ー more specifically Princess Belle ー and she keeps a photograph of her and Belle at a meet and greet on her nightstand. Her father's half-expected her favourite to be Ariel, given that Ariel and Umi do go pretty well together. (Ariel and the sea.)

In Disneyland that summer your baby has had the time of her life, so she starts asking for it every birthday (which slowly turned into every milestone) and up until then you both have had no issues with bringing her there. He'd told you once that if going there makes her happy then he was willing to visit again, no matter the amount of times and the slight boringness he'd have to face when waiting in line to go on rides or booths.

Today she had learned how to properly draw a flying bird in art class after failing a few times and drew flying chickens instead. When you picked her up from school, the first thing she said after showing you her art proudly was, 'Let's go to Disneyland, Mama! Let's go with Daddy!'

You would bring her if you could. You know you would in a heartbeat.

But it has been two years since her last visit to Disneyland, and you and your husband aren't together anymore.

So when he comes over for dinner tonight ー just like he has been every Friday without miss ever since your divorce ー you show him Umi's drawing of the flying bird.

"Can I bring this back with me? I'd like to frame it up." He asks. In his head he plans to hang it on the wall of his living room, right on top of his television, next to your family portrait.

You eat a piece of the orange he'd peeled. "Of course."

/

At noon when your daughter asked, you told her no. So at night she is tugging on her father's shirt with a red face full of tears and she is begging for him to stay.

"Stay here, daddy. Don't go." She cries to him at the foyer. Only one side of his shoe is put on and he kicks it away quick when she attempts to climb into his arms.

"You'll see me again on Sunday, Mimi." He attempts to console her. "We're gonna go to the mall together 'n we'll find the toy you've been wanting."

Her father scoops her into his arms and sits on the floor. She kicks her feet in the air and wails.

"But I want to go to Disneyland with you and Mama." She sobs into his arms. He pecks her crown and shushes her a little.

When your chest gets too heavy you push yourself off the wall you've been leaning against and turn your back to them.

(You've been watching the duo since the moment her father was putting on his shoe, ready to leave, and your daughter came running after him in her pyjamas with wet tears already streaming down her cheeks.)

And Umi continues to cry while her father rocks her in his arms, trying his best to console her.

While walking away from the scene, you pick on the skin around your thumb. Your nose sours and you try pinching it in hopes of soothing it a little.

"Why d'ya wanna go to Disneyland?" You hear him ask before you disappear into the hallway. It's funny how he still asks even though you and him both know that going or not going to Disneyland was never the problem.

Umi sniffles. Her father hums for her to say it.

You hide behind the door of your bedroom.

"I want Mama, Daddy and Umi together again."

Just the three of us together in Umi's favourite place.

You cry.

/

"She's asleep now."

You pause from folding laundry at the couch and look up. He's got both hands in his pockets and a soft smile planted on his face.

He's also a mess, you notice ー his shirt a little stretched and out of place from how hard your daughter had been tugging on it earlier, the fabric wet from tear and snot stains, his hair a bit disheveled (you figure he was resting beside her when putting her to sleep), and he's moving to sit beside you on the couch now.

You smile back. "Thank you. I haven't been able to calm her down easily these days."

He picks up one of the garments from the pile and starts folding it beside you. "It's fine. You know I like doing it." I like being a dad, is what he wishes to say. But he knows you know it already and he holds his tongue.

Neither of you say a thing to each other after that and he continues helping you with the laundry. He folds your bra the way you prefer and your daughter's school uniform neatly so that it doesn't crease.

You steal a few glances at him without shame while stacking his sweatpants onto his pile of clothes.

"Your hair's getting long." You comment.

"Is it?" He raises his brows, genuinely wanting to know.

"Yeah." You reach a hand up to comb through his soft strands of hair. You push them back and try parting it on the middle.

"I've been busy." He's got a boxy, kind of nervous smile on his face when he explains. "Can't really see well through the mirror anyway." He rubs his nape.

You chuckle. "Want me to cut it for you?"

"Okay."

/

You still keep a room for your ex-husband even after the end of your marriage and he's given you the house.

You like telling yourselves it's solely for the sake of your daughter, for when she misses her father a little too much and refuses to let him leave.

But both of you know that's not really the case.

Somehow it didn't feel right when he was in the process of moving out to his new apartment somewhere in Meguro, and you slowly realise that you'd be having an empty room all to yourself.

(Back then you didn't think you could cope with living alone in the house you used to love each other in ー in the house you'd both created a life in.

You still don't now. Not really, anyway.)

So you transform the room that used to be his study into his own bedroom just right across the master (yours). He didn't reject the idea when you told him so.

And because of this, you leave your bedroom door open whenever he stays the night.

Tonight you do it again, and you watch him across the hall, in his room, drying off his freshly cut hair. Your head is resting on the edge of the bed with one hand tucked under your cheek and the other playing with a plush toy he'd gifted you many years ago.

When he turns to hang his towel on the wall he sees you like this. You don't shy away when he smirks.

"Goodnight." You mouth to him. You stay like that until he leaves his door open and finally gets in bed ー until he, too, shuffles around, and dangles his head off the edge of his own bed.

"Goodnight." He mouths it back to you.

You spend some time looking at each other like that ー really taking your realities in ー in rooms across each other with heads dangling off the edge of your beds, two hearts connected by the sea, and your daughter asleep in the room next to yours.

On most nights he comes over sometime during the night and helps you back on your pillow when you accidentally fall asleep like this, and every time, you'd unconsciously tug on his arm and beg him not to go.

He stays every single time.

Tonight, however, he pads over to your room while you're still awake with a pillow clutched in one hand.

"Hi." You scoot on the bed to make space for him as he throws his pillow next to yours and lays down beside you ー face to face, heart to heart. "Hey." He sighs upon getting comfortable on the bed he'd grown to find so much comfort in.

You bring the blanket up to cover his shoulders. He scoots closer to you, sneaks a hand under your shirt, and rubs a warm hand up and down your spine. (You always sleep better when he rubs your back like this.)

And while falling asleep you think to yourself that perhaps someday you'll get to try again as lovers.

You know for a fact that you'll always love him in your heart, and you'll never stop loving him even though it doesn't really make sense anymore ー just like how he'd sworn to never love again after your divorce.

Perhaps someday the both of you would be ready to move on ー still loving each other, but ready to move on from your past, from your love.

And perhaps someday the two of you wouldn't have to argue about money or time anymore. Perhaps someday he'll find a suitable work-life balance, and you're able to trust him enough to keep himself safe at work.

But for now, he's content with rubbing your back as you fall asleep next to him in the bed you'd once shared. You're content with the flowers he still buys you from time to time and cutting his hair whenever it grows out.

For now, you know that you're not ready to move on just yet. Both of you are not, and both of you have something else in mind...

You want to try again.

And you know that trying again will not be easy, but you both also know that you're willing to start all over again with everything you have if given the chance, the opportunity.

Maybe someday.

Maybe you'll give it more time.

(You feel a nudge on your elbow.)

Or...

"Wanna go to Disneyland tomorrow?"

(You smile.)

"Yes."

...Maybe tomorrow?

(He reddens all over.)

"Okay."

You'll see.

(just some characters i have in mind) TOKYO REVENGERS RAN, RINDOU, KAKUCHO, DRAKEN, NAOTO JUJUTSU KAISEN GOJO, NANAMI BLUE LOCK SAE, RIN HAIKYUU KITA, OSAMU & your faves

(i have never been to disneyland before. 😹)

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