#y’all BEST not let this flop because it was such a pain

[amazingmsme]

So What’s the Big Deal?

AN: this is for that one anon a while back that was asking for more wwdits fics, the nuzzling prompt was perfect for namdermo fluff! Hope y’all enjoy, here’s day 8!

Guillermo thought that maybe, just once, it might be different. His... he was hesitant to use the word friends right now, so let's just say his roommates had been fairly reasonable with him lately, especially in comparison to his early years as a familiar. Nandor wasn't completely distant anymore, and he occasionally showed some semblance of affection. Colin Robinson didn't always drain his energy, and even Lazlo and Nadja started to use his real name!

... Most of the time. But Gizmo wasn't the worst, as far as nicknames were concerned.

He let out a deep sigh. Did Gizmo even qualify as a nickname? That sort of thing had always seemed like a fun in joke, where your friends gave you a cooler name than your own because they liked you, or it fits your personality better. They called him Gizmo because they couldn't bother to learn his real name for the longest time.

Most of the time he was the butler, the babysitter, the maid, but sometimes, they really made him feel like their pet.

Lazlo wouldn't stop fucking whistling at him. He had just told him he was busy, and now he was determined to make him drop his current task just to make him start a new one.

"Oh my god, what?" he cried out in frustration.

"Oh good, those ears of yours do work."

"Did you need something Lazlo?" It was best to cut to the chase with this lot.

"I do indeed! You see, a very large, very dead rat appears to have crawled inside the engine of my automobile, and you get to fish it out!" he finished with a smile, poking Guillermo's arm for emphasis.

"Ew, no! I'm busy, Nandor told me to have this done by the time he gets back. And besides, I have an order I need to go pick up."

"Come on Gizmo, it'll only take a second!" Lazlo insisted.

"I said no!"

"That's the spirit! Follow me!" He completely ignored Guillermo's protests and drug him away by the wrist, leading him to the garage.

~~~

It wasn't a rat, and it definitely wasn't dead. The possum had sprung to life as soon as Guillermo tried to lift it by its tail. It hissed and thrashed in his grip, scratching all the way up his arm, slicing through the thin rubber gloves he was wearing. He yelled out in pain and dropped the creature straight back into the engine. It flopped around on the inner mechanics before launching itself straight at Guillermo.

Lucky, he was able to catch it mid air just before it could latch onto his face and tear him to shreds. It still reached out for him, hissing and snarling in his face and lunging against his grasp.

Lazlo did nothing but watch as he wrangled the possum into a trash can and carry it outside. Okay, he held the door open for him, but he literally did nothing to actually help.

He didn't even say thank you!

Guillermo tried to calm himself down as he walked to the nearby bakery. The poor cashier gave him a concerned look when he walked in covered in bloody scratches.

"Possum," he explained bluntly and she nodded in understanding.

"Ah. Well, I hope this makes up for it!" she chirped in her customer service voice. He smiled politely.

"You and me both." He grabbed his bag and stuffed his wallet back into his pocket.

“Thank you, have a nice day!"

"Thanks, you too."

"And happy birthday!"

Guillermo paused with his hand on the door. That was the first time he'd heard that today.

"Thank you." He quickly rushed out before he burst into tears from a perfectly normal interaction. He didn't expect those words to hit him so hard, but hey, it's been a rough day.

He was relieved when he got home. He wanted nothing more than to rush off to his room before any of the vampires saw him and demanded his attention. Thankfully, no one seemed to be awake yet. What the hell, it was his birthday, a little pizza wouldn't hurt. It was still a few hours before sunset, so the delivery guy should be fine.

He placed his order and began the arduous task of deciding what to watch. He browsed through the downloaded movies on his laptop, pausing when he came across Sixteen Candles. How fitting...

He always did like that movie. And it at least felt festive for the occasion.

He clicked play and nestled into a hoard of blankets and pillows, keeping an eye out for his delivery.

He was halfway back to his room, pizza box in hand when he ran into Nandor, still in his sleeping robes.

"Guillermo, there you are!"

He was so close to the freedom of his room.

"Hello Master."

"I heard about what happened with the giant rat," Nandor began in his own form of apology.

"It was a possum."

"Same thing. Are you okay?" he asked, tilting his head as he took a step forward.

"Yeah, I just finished cleaning the scratches." Guillermo tried to step around him. "But I'm actually watching a movie right now, so..." he trailed off, excusing himself.

"Really? What's it about?" Nandor asked, deciding to follow him to his room. Well, if he really wanted to know...

"This girl's whole family forgets her 16th birthday, which is, like, a big deal for humans, all because her older sister's getting married the next day. But hey, at least they had a good excuse." His tone was a little harsher than necessary, and he made his annoyance clear when Nandor invited himself into his room.

"Oh please, I'm sure someone remembered," he said flippantly. Guillermo barked out a laugh.

"That's rich, coming from you."

Nandor's brows knit together in concern. "Guillermo, what's wrong?"

"You really don't know what day it is, do you?" he asked, hanging on to the last bit of hope.

"... Tuesday?"

"It's my birthday!" Guillermo didn’t like how long it was taking him to respond.

"So, like, what's the big deal?" God, he hated just how clueless Nandor could be.

"Get out," he said calmly, pointing at the door.

"Wait-" Nandor called out, and Guillermo looked at him expectantly. "Is it really your birthday?" he asked sheepishly.

He nodded, arms crossed over his chest. "Yeah, it is. But I know you guys don't really care about that sort of thing, so it's fine." He turned away, grabbing a slice of pizza to indicate the discussion was over.

So why was he still standing there?

"Guillermo... Are you mad at me?" Of course that’s all he cared about. And he really didn't want to deal with this right now.

"No Master, I'm just tired. So can I please just watch my movie?"

Nandor didn't know what to think. Sure, Guillermo said he wasn't angry, but his whole demeanor said otherwise. He was hesitant to leave if he upset him.

"Of course! You know, I too enjoy a good moving picture," Nandor wandered closer to the bed, peering down at the screen. Guillermo sighed.

"Do you want to watch it?"

"Thank you, I'd love to!" Nandor exclaimed and immediately flopped down next to Guillermo, taking up a fair amount of space on the bed. He adjusted himself until he was comfortable before resting his chin on his shoulder to see the screen better.

Well, maybe this day wasn't the worst.

He hadn't been very far into the movie, so he played it from the beginning for Nandor's sake. This almost felt... nice. Normal. But in the back of his mind, he knew Nandor was only doing this because he felt guilty.

The vampire shifted in his seat, hugging him closer and nuzzling into his neck slightly. Guillermo tried to scrunch his neck, lips twitching into a smile. Nandor's beard was scratching against a particularly sensitive spot right behind his ear. Finally, it grew to be too much,  and Guillermo had to shove him away.

"Stohop! That really tickles!"

The silence that followed sent a chill up Guillermo's spine.

"I'm sorry, it really what?" he asked deviously, flashing his fangs with an evil grin. Before his familiar could answer properly, he buried his face in his neck, drawing out a shrill squeal instead.

"Nohohothihing! Just forget ihihit!" he cried frantically, desperately clawing at Nandor's arms wrapped around him. That rough beard returned to the soft skin of his neck, and a hand flew up to hide his blushing face. He wasn't even facing him, but he felt he needed to hide.

"Nooo, I don't think sooo!" he cooed directly in Guillermo's ear; the hot breath and rough stubble sent goosebumps across his whole body. He was downright mortified when he felt fangs trace and nibble just below his jaw, and he immediately snorted.

"Nohoho, plehehease!" he whined as Nandor wrestled his arms down to his sides, leaving him utterly defenseless. He began nuzzling against the nape of his neck and behind his ears, growling and nipping just to hear the frantic jump in laughter each time.

"What an adorable weakness for you to have! You better hope Nadja and Lazlo don't find out about this, they love themselves a helpless, ticklish neck," he taunted, and Guillermo could practically hear his grin.

Fuck. "Dohohon't you dahare tehehell them!" he tried to sound threatening, but it wasn't coming across as planned.

"Don't worry, I don't plan on sharing," he set his worries at ease, but he honestly didn't know if that would be worse.

"Nahahandor! Just lehehet mehe gohohoho!"

"It's funny, hundreds of men said the exact same thing, and it never saved them. Then again, they weren't laughing like you are."

"Just kihihill mehehehe!" he yelled dramatically, and Nandor couldn't help but chuckle along.

"On your birthday? I couldn't! But you might wish you were dead by the time I'm through with you!" he threatened.

"M-mahaster, plehehease!" Guillermo could only squeal and thrash as he was tickled from behind. His pleading went ignored, and Nandor nuzzled deeper against his neck, causing him to let out an adorable gasp. His nose scrunched and he snickered and shook his head back and forth.  The not quite so unbearable torture persisted.

He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He couldn't believe Nandor actually felt bad for forgetting his birthday, and was trying to cheer him up. He could deny it all he wants, but Guillermo knows that's why he's really doing this. Then again, his master loves having any kind of power over someone, so he'll take that with a grain of salt. But he was being gentle with him; he was intentionally being playful. In his fuzzy, giggly mindset, that had to mean something.

And then curious, probing hands slipped under his sweater, and all those nice thoughts flew out the window because now Nandor was kneading his hips and belly. He barked out a surprised laugh, hands flapping by his sides where they were pinned. He managed to slip an arm free, weakly tugging at the invading hands.

"Uh oh, we can't have that," Nandor muttered as he pinned his arm above his head. Guillermo shook his head frantically as nervous giggles spilled past his lips.

"Nohoho! Nahandor, plehehease! It tickles!" he begged, and he could feel the smile pressed against his neck stretch wider.

"Oh my sweet Guillermo, the real tickling hasn't even started yet," he taunted, relishing in the choked yelp that caught itself in his victim's throat.

He didn't have time to question what that meant before he was screaming in laughter. Nandor hugged him closer as one hand dug in his exposed pit while he blew a relentless onslaught of raspberries on his neck.

This was shaping up to be a long night.

[rose-of-oz]

“I love both of you. You both are strong and courageous and amazing, and I love you. What’s so hard to get about that?”

━━ Dev Kahtri

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @guardiansofheroes, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski, @luucypevensie, @arrthurpendragon, @ocappreciationtag.

[nctsworld]

the yuletide boyfriend

✩‌ yangyang ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fluff | angst | smut | friends to lovers | ‌college au | 9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.  

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.    

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.  

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.  

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.  

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.  

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.  

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.  

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.  

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.  

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:  

“WISHLIST:   -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.  

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.  

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.  

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.  

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.  

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.  

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.  

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.  

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.  

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.  

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.  

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.  

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.  

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”  

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”  

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.  

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.  

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.  

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.  

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.  

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.    

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.  

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.  

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.  

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.  

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.  

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.  

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”  

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.  

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.  

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.  

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.  

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.  

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side,  ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.  

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.  

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.    

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.  

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.  

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.  

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”  

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.  

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.  

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.  

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.  

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.  

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.  

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.  

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.  

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.  

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.  

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.  

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.  

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.  

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.  

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time. 

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”  

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping. 

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile.  “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.  

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”  

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.  

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”  

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.  

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

[15-dogs]

resident healer |n.s.|

pairing: newt scamander x healer!artist!reader

summary: newt’s brother theseus hires you as his resident healer without newt’s knowledge. however, newt has little use for you so you put your other skills to the test as you spend each day falling a little harder for the man who won’t even speak to you. (super super fluffy! mutual pining, enemies(ish/mild dislike LMAO) to lovers, miscommunication, flustered newt!!)

warnings: extremely minimal swearing, injury, mention of blood

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name

word count: 3.6K

a/n: it’s official y’all i’m in love with newt asjdhsj sorry sorry

Newt gasped in pain, jerking his hand away from the Occamy that bit harshly at his finger. He squatted down to meet its eyes, frowning as he scolded, “Don’t be rude.” 

The Occamy simply squawked back. Newt tutted, snatching a snack for the small thing beside its nest and tossing them up in the air. The Occamies in the nest all hopped up, hurrying to retrieve the treats before the others did. Newt shook his head with a chuckle as he moved away from the creatures and onto the next.

“Mr. Scamander,” Bunty called from the top of the stairs which led to his apartment, “Miss (Y/L/N) is here.”

Newt dried his hands off on his pants, brows furrowed in confusion. He’d never heard that name before and he knew he wasn’t expecting a guest, so who was at his door? Newt shrugged his vest back on as he made his way up the stairs, his eyes trained on the buttons he was doing up. He was so focused on the task at hand that he forgot he was in the landing of his apartment, his leg lifted in preparation to take another step which led him to tumble into the wall ahead.

“Mr. Scamander!” Bunty gasped. She ran to his side instantly, checking to see if he was injured. She held his face in her hands, staring into his eyes as he tried to pull away. “You really hit your head, didn’t you?”

Newt blinked in shock, finally wiggling free of her grasp and walking backwards into his den. “No, I’m fine, Bunty, thank you.”

In his efforts to move away from her, Newt bumped into another figure, nearly tipping him over. He steadied himself before turning around, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Scamander,” you said, warmly. You extended your hand for him to shake, which he did so hesitantly.

“Right, yes.” His eyes scoured the room as he gathered his words. “And you are?”

You looked over him with an involuntary cock of your head, your brows knit together. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Not really, no.”

You laughed humorlessly. “And I suppose you don’t know why I’m here, either.”

Newt cleared his throat and stood a little taller, still fiddling with his wand. “I’m sorry, should I?”

You knew he wasn’t trying to be rude, but you couldn’t help but be a little offended at his words. You were there for him. It was quite literally your job. You gave him a slight frown before straightening out your clothing to keep yourself busy.

“I am (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’m your new resident Healer.”

Newt began to smile as if you had said something quite funny. He looked up at Bunty, nodding his head towards the door to his basement. She scrambled down as he continued to converse with you.

“My resident Healer?” he repeated.

You nodded. “Yes, I was hired.”

Those words were like a bucket of ice on Newt’s content mood. His smile had dropped from his face and he stopped fiddling with his wand. His eyes slowly drifted up to yours, asking the silent question of who? Who would’ve hired such a thing for him? 

You could tell from the irritation swimming in his eyes that he knew exactly who had hired you. From the second you saw Newt, you knew he wasn’t a scary person, but now you weren’t so sure.

“Theseus, your brother, did.”

Newt swallowed hard, tapping his foot against the hardwood floor as he thought. It seemed like forever that you sat in tense silence, hoping you hadn’t done something wrong by telling him. Finally, Newt shook his head, his hair flopping back and forth as he paced around the room, ending at the door and opening it.

“I don’t need a Healer. I’ve been fine on my own thus far.”

You took a step towards him, his eyes still focused on the cold street outside. “Mr. Scamander, I don’t think you understand. I’m a private Healer. I work for no affiliation. I have been hired here and I intend to keep this job.”

“My apologies, Miss (Y/L/N), but I feel your talents would be of better use elsewhere.”

Newt rested a hand on your upper back, pushing you closer towards the door until you were halfway out of it. He refused to meet your eyes as you protested, simply shutting the door in your face. His hand hovered over the doorknob for one minute more as he heard your sighs of exasperation from the other side, a sick feeling settling into his stomach. 

When silence finally dawned on the apartment, Newt began to walk away only to hear the distinct sound of ripped paper from outside. He paused and turned just in time to see a note slipped under the door, the sound of your shoes clicking down the stone steps as background noise. Newt squatted to pick up the note, scoffing at your indignant message.

I’ll be here tomorrow at 8 AM, Mr. Scamander.

Best,

(Y/N)

•••

You sat on Newt’s perfectly done up couch, picking at the quilt that sat beside you on the arm of it. Your leg was bouncing and your eyes scoured the room, begging it to give you something to do other than just wait around.

Newt popped out of his bedroom, running a hand through his hair as he ran up and down between his basement and the main floor. You would glance at him out of the corner of your eye every time he did so, wishing he would give you anything to do.

After the fifth time he arrived upstairs, he paused to look at you. You sat at attention, awaiting his useful instructions.

With a limp point towards the room across from him, he stated, “There’s food in the pantry. Help yourself.”

Your hands gripped onto the quilt, balling it up in your fists to contain your anger. You sent a vicious smile Newt’s way and he sent a wary one back before running downstairs.

You had considered yourself to be a person of immense patience, but Merlin was that man testing you. Every day after that you sat on his couch, examining the apartment, hoping that he would come up from his workshop and beg you to help him. 

At some point in your weeks of sitting, you stopped dressing the part of Healer. You stopped caring. He clearly didn’t need you but you clearly couldn’t leave, so you took the necessary steps to make that hellish limbo a bit more comfortable. You brought novels and notebooks, blankets and pillows, all so you could sit on Newt Scamander’s couch and pretend you were his star Healer.

Feeling entirely useless one day, you decided to pull out your notebook and sketch a few items around the apartment. If you couldn’t practice one talent, why not practice the other? You ended up drawing a plethora of strange items from where you sat; all of which you assumed to be objects used in his care for his creatures.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the soft clang of a dinner plate was placed in front of you. You looked up and spotted Newt across the room at his kitchen table as he took a bite of his dinner with one hand and tucked his wand away with the other. You searched the room for a moment, wondering if that was some kind of trap— Newt had never eaten with you before, let alone make you dinner. You picked up the dish with severe caution, carefully taking a bite and smiling softly at how wonderful it tasted.

Your silent dinners became a regular occurrence. You didn’t bother talking to him and he didn’t bother talking to you. You would finish your meal and then pick up whatever you were doing prior until 8:00 when you left.

As you sat on his couch, curled up under a blanket with your sketchbook, you looked over the room to see if there was anything different to draw when your eyes landed on Newt, himself. He was reading a book, splaying the pages open as he chewed on the thumb of his opposite hand. Something about the way he sat was so poetic, and the next thing you knew you were drawing his portrait.

You began to draw his portrait every dinner, a sudden infatuation with the way he looked blossoming within you. After dinner one day, Newt came up to you to collect your plate rather than just charming it to fly to the sink.

“Do you draw?” he asked.

You, so alarmed by his presence, shouted, “No!” and slammed your sketchbook shut, praying to Merlin that he didn’t see his pictures.

“I just thought you were because…” Newt trailed off as he referenced the ink stains on your hands and shapes of objects that must’ve rubbed off on you. 

You flushed, finally nodding with a quiet, “Yes, I draw. Not very well, but I quite like it.”

He sunk into the spot next to you, his leg bouncing up and down as he spoke. “I’m sure that you’re a wonderful artist. If you’d ever care to show me some time, I’m sure my opinion will be justified.”

Your cheeks turned pink and you ducked your head to avoid his stare. “Yes, maybe at some point.”

Newt let out a gratified sigh before stalking over to the kitchen, butterflies occupying your stomach. You knew then that you didn’t like drawing him because he was fun to draw. No, you realized that you were quite infatuated with the man who barely spoke a word to you but you had the feeling that you were going to change that.

•••

“Mr. Scamander-”

“Please,” he began, looking at you over his shoulder, “it’s Newt.”

“Right, yes, Newt.” You stood up from his couch with his book in hand, trailing after him as he paced around his apartment. “I’ve been reading your book. It’s quite fascinating, I have to say.”

His steps slowed to a stop and his eyes lit up. “You like it?”

You only looked up from his book when you rammed straight into him. You teetered backwards but his strong arms caught you, holding you flush against his chest. “I-I do.” You wiggled out of his grasp, fearing the increase in your heart rate. “I just, er, find it fascinating that you keep all those creatures in your basement, not more than a few meters below us.”

He shrugged, continuing his pacing until he stopped by the basement door. “Not all of them, but a great deal.” Newt averted his eyes towards the ground, a shy smile spreading across his lips. “I could show you if you like? You could take your sketchbook down and draw some up for me.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Bunty has the day off and I could use your company-” Newt cut himself off, his eyes wide and blush creeping up his cheeks. “The company, is what I meant. Just some company, is all. Well, that’s not to say I don’t like your company— I’m partial to it, actually— but-”

You chuckled, snatching your sketchbook from your bag on the couch. You passed by the man, stopping to look him once over. “I enjoy your company, too, Newt.”

You spent the rest of the day in the basement with Newt as he explained each creature to you  with the glee of a child. You smiled, wondering if he’d ever smile at you the way he smiled at his beasts, but quickly dismissed the thought.

You ended up drawing some of his creatures, particularly focused on the Murtlap that scurried around its cage. After you had finished a rough sketch of the creature, you had turned to show Newt when you were stopped in your tracks by the sight before you; Newt had a Bowtruckle perched on his finger, speaking to it like a friend, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a plethora of scars on his collarbone. Your mouth went dry and you knew then and there that you had to draw him.

You focused on every crinkle of his smile, the sharpness of his jaw, the pure adoration behind his eyes. Newt was encapsulating. Everything about him drove you wild. It was almost embarrassing how he made you feel so mad but you couldn’t help it— you were at the point past no return.

As the day came to a close, Newt cleaned up around his basement as his eyes flickered in between you and the broom he held. You had propped his book up on your leg so that you could draw in some more specific details about the creatures you had sketched, wanting it to look perfect if Newt was going to see. He let out a soft exhale in amusement at your contorted position, alerting you to his presence.

“May I see?” His eyes drifted towards your notebook, just grazing over your body.

You nodded and moved over for him to sit next to you. Fortunately, you had been practicing some charms and learned how to hide some of your drawings— specifically the ones of Newt.

To your surprise (and delight), Newt slid up next to you, your shoulders brushing against one another. You let out a shaky breath and met his eyes with a weak smile as you shoved the sketchbook into his arms. His eyes fell downwards towards the drawings, a pit forming in your stomach as he scanned over them.

 Every time he would flip the page, he would mutter a compliment to you. It was always something specific, something targeted, as if to make you aware that he was truly fascinated by your drawings.

“You captured Molly’s tuft of white fur perfectly,” he murmured, running a rough finger across the drawing of the Niffler you did. He flipped to the next page, chuckling to himself. “And the Glow Bugs are just...lovely. That’s Poppy right there, I can tell.”

You beamed at him, unable to control how he made you feel. Newt carefully set the journal down behind him as he scanned your face.

“You’re quite...you have this...well, you…” he stammered as he fiddled with his fingers.

“What is it?” you prodded, your voice no more than a whisper.

“You’re...beautiful.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as your eyes involuntarily flickered down towards his lips. Your hand crept its way over his, tracing the scars on the back of it with your thumb as you leaned in closer towards him.

“Mr. Scamander!” a familiar voice called from the top of the stairs, causing the two of you to jump apart. You both looked up to find Bunty padding down the stairs, a wide smile on her face. “Mr. Scamander! I know you said I had the day off but I wasn’t doing much today and thought I could be of some use here!”

Newt glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not a problem, Bunty, you can head home.”

“But I’m really not doing anything!”

“Well, I suppose you could help me do final bed checks and whatnot.”

Bunty nodded, scurrying around to do her tasks with an eager grin. Newt flashed you a shy smile as he stood up, his fingers still tangled in yours before he pulled away.

•••

Newt appeared out of his bedroom in the same fashion he did every morning: hurried. However, that time, he shrugged on a coat and walked towards the door of his apartment.

“Going somewhere?” you questioned.

“Yes, I’m off to the Ministry for the day. Bunty’s here if you need anything.”

And with that, Newt left.

Things had been strange since you had almost kissed no more than three days ago. Newt kept all your interactions strictly professional, meaning you were back to barely speaking again. It was frustrating, to say the least, and it made you question whether Newt really didn’t feel the same towards you, that you were coming on to him.

You had been stuck in that void of thinking for days. You would find yourself flipping through your sketchbook and landing on one of the many sketches you did of Newt, frowning as your mind began to spin expert lies to break your heart.

“(Y/N)!”

You could practically hear him calling your name.

“(Y/N)! Please!”

That was real. And it wasn’t Newt, either. It was Bunty.

You hopped off the couch, swapping your sketchbook for your Healer’s bag. You knew the voice of an injured person when you heard it and you weren’t about to take any chances that your instincts were wrong.

You made your way downstairs, finding Bunty by the Occamy nest holding her forearm, some blood seeping through her fingers. You ran up to her, wand drawn as you enchanted the necessary items to fly from your bag.

“Keep your breathing steady and your eyes on me, Bunty,” you said firmly. Bunty nodded, looking down at you with tears crowding her eyes. “Did the Occamy get you?”

“Y-yes. He got out of his nest and into another cage and grew quite a bit larger. I tried to take him back but he bit me.”

“Merlin, Bunty, that’s awful. But I can assure you that you’ll be perfectly fine. You don’t have any serious injuries that I can see.”

You poured a few droplets of an amber liquid from your bag, the skin stretching across her arm to heal the wound. She squealed in pain and you slipped your hand into hers, allowing her to squeeze it to deal with the pain.

“It’s almost over, I promise. We’ll get you to St. Mungo’s after just in case, too. You’re doing fantastic, Bunty. This potion, well, excuse my language but it hurts like a bitch.”

Bunty let out a strangled laugh, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. You patted her hand, flashing your signature Healer smile at her as you got to your feet. Your bag magically packed itself as you helped Bunty up beside you, wrapping an arm around her and apparating off to the hospital.

You had settled things with the Assistant Healer at St. Mungo’s and Bunty assured you that she didn’t need you there with her for her tests no matter how many times you protested. She simply thanked you, explained that she felt fine already, and squeezed your hand before shooing you off to apparate back to Newt’s apartment.

You arrived back in the basement, snatching your medical bag and making your way upstairs. Your footsteps slowed as you heard quiet murmurs of appraisal coming from the den, the flipping of used parchment scraping against itself.

Your sketchbook.

You darted out into the den, finding Newt back early from his trip to the Ministry with your sketchbook in hand, marveling at the pictures you drew of him. Your heart thundered inside your chest and you went light headed at the sight, your face overheating instantly.

“Did you draw these?” he asked. In an impossible sense, Newt’s tone was entirely neutral as was his expression. Nothing. You couldn’t read anything off of him.

“Give that back.” You dropped your bag and swung your wand out in an attempt to retrieve the book, only to have Newt throw a countercurse at you. You sucked in a sharp breath before trying again only for the same result to be repeated.

“You drew these,” he stated. He met your anxious eyes with furrowed brows, which only worsened the black hole growing inside you.

“There’s no point in denying it, Newt.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing your hands up and down as your own personal security blanket.

“I think that your drawings are lovely.” Your eyes snapped up to his and he cowered at his statement. “Not because it’s me, that’s not why they’re lovely. It’s because it’s you— obviously not you, it’s me— but you drew them and I’d love for you-”

Feeling rather emboldened by his rambling, you cut Newt off with a defiant statement.

“I like you.”

Newt was silent.

You continued.

“A lot, actually.” You ran a hand through your hair with a wry laugh. “A stupid amount, really. I can’t get you out of my head in a maddening sort of way. And I know that you’re saying you like the drawings but I understand if you’re lying. I think I’d be rather perturbed if I found a journal full of my face, too.”

“Don’t say that,” he muttered with a dismal shake of his head.

“It’s true! It’s odd!”

“No, please don’t say that. It’s not.” With every declaration, Newt’s voice got a little louder

“Why-”

“Because I fancy you!” he shouted, leaving you in a stunned silence. “Sorry.”

You blinked in confusion. Newt fancied you. Newt fancied you. You repeated it over and over again in your head, trying to make sense of his foreign words. You met his worried gaze and whispered to confirm your suspicions, “You fancy me?”

“I-I do.” He laughed to himself, scuffing his foot against the floor. “You’re beautiful and...and witty, and intelligent, and you have this intense gaze like a crow, and it’s just all beautiful. You’re beautiful.” His words tumbled from his mouth like he didn’t have enough time in the world to tell you how he truly felt.

If Newt was going to act like there was no time left, then you were, too. Your wand fell from your loosened grasp as you ran up to him, falling into a deep kiss. His hands hovered in the air for a moment before he embraced you, holding you as tight to his body as he could so his lips could still be connected to yours.

You pulled away, gasping for air as he rested his forehead against yours. He reached a calloused thumb up to rub over your bottom lip before venturing up to your cheekbone.

Seems as if he did need a Healer after all.

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

general taglist:  @pandaxnienke @lunalovecroft @for-bebbanburg

[multiplefandomsblog]

Kokichi with a tall, curvy S/O

desc; kokichi constantly flirts with s/o, but she thinks he’s just making fun of her.(THIS NEEDS TO BE EDITED AHHHHHHHHH)

warnings; fem!reader, reader has body insecurities, sexual comments, cussing, angst, ✨misunderstandings✨, fluff,

word count: 800+

You were sitting in the dining hall, eating breakfast with the others. Kokichi was leaning over the table, watching you closely while you ate your meal. You looked back at Kokichi, furrowing your brow, 

“Are you going to eat?” Kokichi simply stared at you with his chin in his hand before nodding his head, “I’ll eat you out.” You heard Kaito spit out his water and a metal spatula fall to the ground. 

Suddenly everyone went silent. Your face heated up from embarrasement before shaking your hands in denial at everyone, stuttering out, “H-he’s just jokin-” Kokichi grinned, his eyes glued to your face, “No I’m not.” You turned around to glare at him, before sighing out in defeat.

You continued eating, trying your best  to avoid his gaze. “You know, S/o, you can have my food if you want. I’ll even feed you!” You looked up at him with your cheeks full, slightly offended. After taking his statement the wrong way, you decided you weren’t hungry anymore.

You stood up to leave, excusing yourself. “Waiiit, S/o-chan! Don’t leave! What’d I dooo?” He pouted as he stood up to follow you. Everyone watched silently as the two of you stood up to leave, “It’s nothing, Kokichi.” You lied, unconsciously sucking your stomach in from everyone��s gaze.

You held your breath, not wanting your stomach or chest to expand as you respired. Once the both of you left the room, K1-B0 broke the silence in the dining hall with a question, “Um, what did Kokichi mean by, ‘Eating out’?” Miu excitedly opened her mouth to speak-

You closed the door on Kokichi’s face as you left the room, but Kokichi caught the door before you could fully close it and pushed it back open. You kept walking with your eyes glued in front of you, even as Kokichi whining at you for your attention. Kokichi kept on repeating your name, until you were finally done.

You exhaled as you prepared mentally for his bullshit and turned your head, “Yes?” His eyes lit up as you finally paid attention to him, “Uwahhh, I just wanted to say your outfit looked pretty today! Don’t gotta be so mean...” He pouted at you, eyes glistening with crocodile tears. 

Your eyes widened a fraction, slightly surprised and flattered by his words, “Thanks, I guess-?” “--But then again, it would look better on my room floor!” He spewed out quickly, “Nishishi!”-ing at your expression. Your face fell and you turned around to go hide in your dorm. 

“You shouldn't say things like that unless you mean it, Kokichi.” You muttered, face red from embarrassement that you thought he was genuinely complimenting you. Suddenly you felt extremely self conscious, gripping at the skin on your arms.

“Huh? What do you mean, S/o-chan?” He cocked his head to the side, jogging to your side. “I-I know you don’t actually like me, Kokichi. You just like to make fun of me.” You sighed, feeling your heart clench from heartbreak.

You tightened your arms around yourself tighter, digging your own nails in your skin. Kokichi watched as your face contorted in pain, reaching his hand to you before stopping when you shook your head and looked at him with a pained smile.

“And th-that’s okay, but I’m getting kind of tired of it.” Your voice cracked, eyes glossing over. “Ah, fuck. Why did I have to be so fucking dramatic?” You bitterly laughed at your weakness, sniffling as you spoke, “Hey, let’s just pretend that-” 

Kokichi reached up to grab the collar of your shirt, pining you against a nearby wall. He pulled you down to him and kissed you, moving his free hand to the curve of your side. You gasped into the kiss, your eyes fluttering shut as stray tears fell down your cheeks. You almost lost yourself in the feeling, but your insecurity got the better of you. 

“W-wait, wait, why are you kissing me?” You stuttered out, pulling away from him. Kokichi looked at you with disbelief, “Are you stupid? Because I like you, duh.” He reached up and flicked your forehead. “Ow.” You puffed your cheeks out, “But, why?” You asked as you rubbed your forehead, flopping your hand down in dejection.

“I mean, I’m so... ” You looked down at your body with an unhappy expression, gesturing to your body. Kokichi groaned, “Yanno, you’re really dense, S/o-chan. It’s kinda annoying. Hmmm, but you’re pretty so I guess it’s okay.” Kokichi shrugged before continuing, “If you reaaaaally wanna know why I like you then umm, I think it’d be because I like your boobs.”

He took one of your hands in his and started listing off each of your fingers, causing your face to heat up. “Second would be that, mmm I guess you’re not that boring.” Tapping your middle finger, he paused to think. As he perked up when he thought of a third, right before he could say it, you interrupted him. 

“Okay, okay! That’s enough.” You quietly laughed out, gripping his hands to prevent him from counting anymore. Your face was already so red, and you didn’t want him to set it on fire. “Ehhhh? But I haven’t even started!”

You flushed even more from his words, already flustered by the first two reasons. You smiled with gratitude at his pouting face. “Hey, S/o-channnn.” He swung your intertwined hands, “Can I touch your boobs.” He deadpanned, watching you as your chubby cheeks became red. 

He eyed your cheeks with a mischievous glint in his eyes before reaching up on his tip toes and pinching your cheeks. “But, you know, this is okay too.” 

i don't know why I ended it like this- but still, hope y’all enjoyed!! Oh god I need to edit the hell out of this-

[retroellie]

can u do an imagine/headcanon of nsfw jealous ellie being protective and stuff like that ;) thank you!! i love ur writing btw 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

summary: Ellie gets jealous 

A/N: Thank you for the request<3 sorry this took so long and it’s very short, i’ve just been super busy. I need some ellie in my life rn. Thank you for enjoying my writing, i know it’s not the best but it makes me happy knowing some people enjoy it :)

Warnings: NSFW, use of strap on, Mommy kink

Word count: 771

-Jealous Ellie is so hot but such a pain in the ass

- She won’t ever tell you she’s jealous, she’ll just side eye you and get real quiet

-In her head she’s thinking about all the things she’s gonna do to you when you guys get home

-Maybe y’all are doing group rounds with another group, a set of guys let’s say

-One of the guys gets real close to you, making you laugh and touching your arm like he’s flirting with you

-Ellie just stays behind y’all, watching as you two get too close for her liking

-She knows you would never, I mean based on what she does to you in bed and how you react; she would say your never gonna leave her

-She just gets so jealous, especially around boys

-She knows your gay but she’s really insecure okay, she do be sensitive

- She won’t say anything to you while she’s jealous, she’ll just let out dry responses

-She uses this as a perfect time to tease you though

-She’ll roll up her sleeves showing her tattoo, her reach up to things so it’ll show off her stomach, or she’ll get herself all blooded

-She basically wants you to be drooling by the time you get back to Jackson

-you will attempt to get her alone with you but she just teased you more

-“Me and Ellie can take the bathrooms.”

-“No you and Jesse can. I can take the bedrooms.”

-When you get back to Jackson you guys are all over each other

-Shes angry and irritated but that doesn’t stop her from asking if your okay with it and even checking up on your every one in a while

-She quite literally fucks you into the mattress, like literally

-She definitely uses the strap when she’s jealous just to give you the most pleasure you can get

-Shes rough with you. She will throw you around, smack your ass roughly and even choke you harder than she usually would

-Because shes so rough she’ll have a safe word available for you to use, probably something like Guitar or Astronaut

-She will try to overstimulate you, fucking you till your worn down

-“Imagine what that boy would think if he saw you like this, if he knew how much of a slut you were for me.”

-I feel like jealous sex is how she finds out she had a mommy/daddy kink (which ever one your comfortable with<3 it doesn’t matter)

-“Fuck...mommy...”

-She gets so much power from that, Idc this woman has a mommy kink

-“Say it again baby, come on Don't get all shy now.”

- She will flop you over on your stomach and fuck you so roughly you really gotta hold on to the sheets for dear life

-She will dig her nails into your hips so hard it’ll leave scars and it only adds to the pleasure your feeling

-She knows when your about to cum, your legs start to shake and your moans get louder

-She will start kissing your neck and rubbing between your thighs, just to send you over the edge

-Your moans get so loud she has to cover your mouth, afraid joel might hear

-“Ellie... I’m cumming.” You say into her hand

-She thrust harder, fucking your until your basically a puddle in your arms

-Your orgasm hits you and it hits you hard, you scream into her hand

-By the end of it, your basically a rag doll. Your vision is blurry and your body it sore

-While coming down from your high you can heard ellie shuffle behind you

-You almost fall sleep until Ellie’s hands go around your waist and pull your underneath the blankets

-You cuddle underneath them, watching as she tries to clean up your mess

-Shes wearing a clean white shirt and some underwear, the indents from the strap on her flushed skin

-“Your jealous...”

-What? No I’m not.”

-“you so are! You fucked me because a boy talked to me.” You joked

-She bit her lip before jumping on top of you, attacking you with kisses

-“No! I just don’t like when boys get all flirty with you.”

-“Why!? You think I’m going to leave you.”

-She brushes some hair from out of your face, pecking your lips softly

-“Maybe... your hot, you know. You could have any person.”

-“Yeah, but don’t worry your winning. I have yet to find a person who fucks me better than you do.” You joke

-“Yeah, like any guy can fuck you like I do.”

-

-

-

(Credits to gif owner)

[obxfics]

puppybowl sunday

summary: you spend the day cuddled up watching the puppy bowl

pairing: john b x reader x jj

word count: 1654

a/n: i got inspiration watching the puppy bowl so... here we are lol also when tf is season 2 coming i want more motivation to write and shit please anyways enjoy (also this could technically belong to the “you against the world” universe but also... idk where it would fit lmao so if you want to imagine it like that have at it)

Masterlist

john b groaned as something woke him up. he had been deep in sleep, something he appreciated considering how many late night grocery or food runs he had to do for the residents of figure eight, when he felt someone shift as they laughed. he blearily opened his eyes to see you, sitting up with your back against his headboard and one of his arms flung across your waist, frozen with your hand clapped over your mouth. obviously you hadn't been meaning to laugh that hard.

"what are you doin' up so early?" he rasped, his voice kinda scratchy from sleep.

you smiled down at him and ran a hand through his thick hair, giggling when your fingers got all tangled up in it. "hon, it's two in the afternoon."

he lifted his head real quick and pouted when he saw that jj wasn't included in the cuddle pile. "shit, did i miss jj going off to work?"

"mhm. don't worry, though, i got some food into him and made sure he was wearing his mask. also put the fear of god into him if he didn't wash his hands throughout the day."

john b breathed out a laugh as he imagined you yelling at jj to stay safe at work. almost a year into the pandemic, and jj and john b had spent the whole time quaranting in the chateau to the best of their ability. it had been months since they had seen kie or pope in person for longer than a few minutes, and usually that was only when john b pulled up to the wreck to pick up delivery orders or when jj and john b helped pope's dad with grocery deliveries. at the beginning of everything, you had been spending quarantine with your boys since school was all online and your parents' restaurant was closed. a month or so in, however, regulations had been lifted and the people of figure eight all but demanded for them to reopen, and so you went back home to help your parents with the restaurant and to keep jj and john b safe from anything you could have possibly brought back to them.

you had practically locked them in the chateau, leaving them threatening voicemails if they even thought about going out, but as two months turned into three turned into four turned into five, you realized that the boys needed their jobs as there seemed no end in sight to the pandemic. so jj returned to his job at the country club, and john b got a job busing tables at your family's restaurant. you moved back in to quarantine with them as school started, and you spent practically your whole savings on getting a backup generator and high speed wifi for the chateau so if anything happened, you all would be good. and, despite living through a worldwide panda express, you were quite happy.

beside you, john b shifted his head to rest on your lap so he could see what you were watching on your laptop that had you laughing so hard. a smile grew on his face when he saw the puppies running around on the "football field" and jumping all over the "ref." he looked up at you and felt his chest blossom with warmth at the way you smiled at the puppies and giggled when they flopped over.

"did you really wake me up watching the puppy bowl?"

"hush up," you laughed, "it's a tradition, and you know it. 'sides, you can't tell me you aren't enjoying this as much as i am. i've seen how you and jj get with dogs. y'all may love them more than you love me."

"aw, honey, that's not true," john b cooed. "you know how much we love you. obviously i love you more since i didn't go to work during the puppy bowl, but you know, that's to be expected."

you shook your head and lightly swatted at his stomach. you knew he wasn't being serious. john b loved jj just as much as he loved you, and the feeling was mutual from jj. the three of you had a good thing going, a relationship full of understanding and compassion, and it had taken y'all a long time to get there. you all had things to work through, like jj's daddy issues, john b's abandonment issues, and your trauma from your previous relationship with rafe cameron, but you had gotten through it together, and this quarantine had actually brought y’all closer together which had surprised everyone.

“jj’s gonna be sad that he missed it,” you sighed.

“we’ll just rewatch it with him,” john b assured you. “and we can watch the old ones too.”

there was shuffling as the both of you wriggled around to get into a more comfortable position. at one point the two of you had to lunge to catch the laptop from falling to the floor, but eventually you settled in with john b curled around you and the blankets and pillows providing a sort of nest and elevated stand for the laptop. the room was filled with the soft sounds of puppy barks and whines, and your giggles when one of the dogs did something particularly cute, and john b let out a quiet sigh as he allowed himself to relax against you.

“i think we should get a dog,” you mumbled sleepily as john b clicked on last year’s broadcast. “we can add another cutie to our cuddle pile.”

there was some incoherent whining on your part before you dozed off in his arms. he did his best to focus on the puppies on the screen, but soon he too fell asleep with his face buried in the crook of your neck. that was how jj found you two when he stumbled into the room later that night as he yanked his tie from his neck. he stilled in the doorway, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he saw the two people he loved most in the world all snuggled up together. and then he saw what was pulled up on the laptop.

“oh you assholes!”

the both of you jolted awake, your hand smacking john b in the face as you moved to make sure the laptop wouldn’t fall off the bed. john b rubbed at his eyes and turned to blink up at jj.

“hey, how was work, babe?”

jj shook his head as you rolled over and made grabby hands, obviously asking for cuddles. he put his hands on his hips and frowned down at the pair of you.

“i cannot believe y’all are watching the puppy bowl without me.”

“um... in my defense,” john b started, “they were already watching when i woke up.”

“dude!” you turned your head to scowl at your boyfriend. “jj, baby, come cuddle with us, and we can turn it back on.”

as he kicked his shoes off and rifled around the dresser for comfy clothes, jj shook his head. john b let out a laugh when he realized what he was getting at.

“no can do, babe,” jj told you, smirking at john b as he let his work shirt slide off his shoulders. “the superbowl starts soon, and we’re watching it.”

you fell back on the bed and let out a loud groan. you had been hoping the boys would be too tired to watch the football game. you lifted yourself up on your elbows and glared at the two of them.

“i am legitimately only watching your stupid sportsball for the weeknd. after that i will be passing the fuck out.”

jj laughed and wrapped his arms around you as he flopped down between you and john b. you couldn’t keep your glare on your face when you felt your cheek hit his bare chest. you had missed him all day. there were a few laughs and giggled--and a couples groans of pain--as the three of you got all comfortable on the queen sized bed. finally you and john b sandwiched jj, john b spooning the blonde boy as you nestled in within the warmth of jj’s arms.

“don’t he kiss his kid on the mouth?” you mumbled as one of the players ran out on the field.

a wheeze left jj’s chest as john b shouted his laugh out, causing you to smirk. you had absolutely no clue as to what was happening in the game, or even had any idea as to who the teams were, because like you told the boys, you were only watching for the weeknd concert, and you were getting more and more anxious waiting for it.

“wait, i thought both teams were supposed to be good. why does one team already have like three touchdowns and the other doesn’t have any?”

“honey,” john b said, attempting to hold in his laugh, “just watch and enjoy the game.”

you rolled your eyes, making jj smile fondly. “hon, how am i supposed to enjoy a game i don’t even understand?”

“do you want us to explain?” jj offered sweetly.

“absolutely not. i appreciate it, baby, but i’m too pretty for that.”

jj snickered and pressed a kiss into your hair. “of course you are, babe.”

you nuzzled your nose against his collarbone and tugged your hand from between the boys to gently scratch at john b’s scalp. a hum rumbled deep within the brunette’s chest at the action.

“i love y’all,” you whispered into jj’s skin. “even if y’all make me watch football.”

“well we love you too,” jj returned with a kiss to your cheek and john b’s arm.

“even if you make us watch the weeknd,” john b teased.

“hey! you better appreciate abel or i swear i’m moving out!”

taglist (ahaha heyyy it’s been a while so tell me if y’all want to be removed): @damndunner​ @scandalousfemale @shawnssongs​ @kikifromtheblock​ @write-from-the-heart​ @kurtsconner​ @thatjohnd​ @abbiesthings​ @heavenlymama​ @strangerthanfiction713 @alexis-marrt022 @brithedemonspawn​ @obxsummer​

[twices-pup]

Hiraeth

title : hiraeth ( minatozaki sana x fem reader )

word count : 1,592 words

genre : angst

warnings : single mention of alcohol

synopsis : hiraeth (n) - a homesickness for a home you can’t return to, or that never was. ( non-idol au )

side note : i didn’t expect myself to post another fic so soon, but the idea for this came to me at like, almost 1 in the morning and i was able to finish it soon after i woke up, so i thought, “hey, why not post this?” things have been a little rough in my personal life lately, so i guess you can say this is sort of a vent fic? so it might be a little messy, and it got longer than i intended it to be, but i hope y’all enjoy my 1 am emo thoughts :)

You hated this city.

You hated that every time you left your house, you're bound to see something that would remind you of her. You hated that the people around you still asked you about her. You hated that she was only a five minute-drive away from you, yet you weren't able to go see her, no matter how much your heart ached for you to.

You hated this city, but this city was where you were born and grew up in, where your family and friends were, where you had met her. This city—with its roads full of traffic, its bustling streets, and its busy people—was all that you ever knew, so you couldn't just up and leave. Even if every street and corner held painful memories of her.

You used to think that this city was your home, but that was until you had met her, during your freshman year of high school. She was charming in her own way, and had a smile so dazzling you nearly mistook it for a ray of sunshine. When she turned to you, and your eyes met for the first time, you knew right then that your life was never going to be the same again. All because of her.

You had remembered reading somewhere that home wasn't necessarily a place; it could also be a person, a pair of arms that you knew you belonged in.

The closer you got with her, the more it felt like you and her were like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together perfectly. Anything and everything she said or did, even something as trivial as putting a hand on your shoulder, was able to fill you with a sense of warmth and comfort. Soon she became all that you thought about, all that you sought for when you felt lost.

Soon she became your home.

Or at least, that was what you thought.

It wasn't long before you two were practically attached by the hip, and everyone who knew either one of you would know that. Where one of you were, the other wouldn't be far behind, and the fact that she lived just a neighborhood away from you helped. It was really easy for the two of you see to each other; at first you thought of it as a convenience, but time threatened to prove you otherwise.

You didn't know what came over you when you had let the words slip past your lips. You weren't drunk, you swore you never had anything to drink prior to the incident that night. So perhaps it was the heat of the moment, just the two of you sitting on top of a hill overlooking the city, and you ended up getting intoxicated by her instead of alcohol. The light pollution was so bad, there was barely a single star visible in the night sky. The view of the city after dark, however, was almost enough to make up for the lack of starlight. It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Hair messy, eyes soft, lips slightly chapped, your jacket draped over her shoulders. No matter how she looked, no matter what she wore, she was never anything less than beautiful in your eyes. Added with the romantic atmosphere, had you lacked self control you would've kissed her then and there.

Thankfully though, you were still able to control your actions. But as your heart raced while you stared at her, it was a lot less easier to control your words.

"I love you."

She diverted her attention from the view to look at you, eyes wide with surprise. A silence enveloped you two once more, one that felt heavier and far less comfortable than the silence before you had uttered those three words. You watched her shift awkwardly, and suddenly you became much more aware of the cold night air biting at the bare skin of your arms and neck. Where had the warmth and comfort gone?

"I love you too, y/n," Sana said carefully. You perked up at her response, feeling a wave of relief and even joy wash over you, but it was short-lived as she continued speaking before you had the chance to interrupt her. "You're my best friend, after all."

You felt your heart sink. Had she really not understood what you meant? Or was she pretending to?

"N-No, Sana," you began, frowning. "That...That's not what I meant. Not just in that way."

To this day, you regretted ever correcting her.

Another silence ensued, this one more agonizing than the last. Your heart was racing, but not in a good way, not in the way she normally made your heart palpitate. Your eyes trained on her every movement, as she avoided your eyes and brought up a hand to rub the back of her neck.

"We...We should head back."

You didn't know what else to say or do, other than agree and walk her back to her house. The walk was, as expected, terribly awkward, neither of you saying anything throughout, and you realized that that was the first time there was any awkwardness between the two of you. You hated the feeling.

Once you reached the front of her house, she turned to you, took your jacket off, and put it on you instead. However, she still refused to meet your eyes that were practically boring holes into her. As she adjusted your jacket, she spoke, ever so softly, "You're my best friend, y/n, you really are. And...And that's all you are to me. Nothing less, nothing more."

Her words were like an arrow through your heart. Not Cupid's arrow, the one that made you feel all lovestruck and giddy, but an actual piercing arrow aimed to kill you. You stared at her blankly, searching her expression for any kind of solace.

She did offer you one, a soft smile, meant to be reassuring and comforting, but you felt neither. "I'm sorry," she continued. "You're an amazing girl y/n, I know you'll be able to find someone else. So I hope this won't change anything between us." She pulled you into a hug, and you wanted to return it had your arms not felt glued to your side, before she pulled away and walked up to her front door. Before she disappeared behind it, she shot you another smile.

Her smile was definitely not telling you that things weren't going to change.

You didn't cry then. You didn't cry on your walk back to your own place. But the second your bedroom door shut behind you, and you were met with your dark, cold bedroom, the world came collapsing down on you. You sank to your floor, and you finally let your tears out.

You didn't see her for the next couple of weeks. You avoided her at school, and refused to hang out with her after school hours. You told yourself that it was what was best for you, some time alone to grieve. But weeks turned into months, yet neither of you dared to talk to one another.

Once you did decide to make the first move, she ignored you as if you weren't right there in front of her, as if you were invisible, as if you didn't exist. She simply brushed past you while talking to a couple of other girls, and she looked...happy. After what had happened between the two of you, she was able to be happy. You could do nothing but watch as she walked further and further away from you.

When you reached your house that day, you received a text on your phone.

"Let's not waste our time fixing something that's already broken"

You felt your heart break for the millionth time since the night of your confession. She had given up on you, on your once seemingly unbreakable friendship. You couldn't blame her, though; she didn't feel the same way you did and there was nothing she could do to force herself to love you back, but even with this knowledge you ghosted her for months, as if she had conducted the biggest sin the world had ever seen. If you were in her shoes, you knew that you'd be exhausted too.

She had given up on you, and you put the blame entirely on yourself.

As you flopped down onto your bed and let your tears flow, you recalled coming across a list of beautiful words from multiple different languages once, beautiful words with even more beautiful meanings. One of them was hiraeth.

Hiraeth.

You finally understood what it meant, how it felt.

She was your home, a home you could never return to, a home that never was.

+ + +

As you drove past her neighborhood on your way to get groceries, you looked out your car window, and saw her. Your houses weren't that far, and the city wasn't that big, so it wasn't your first time coming across her by chance over the years.

But this time she walked down the street, a wide smile plastered on her face and her hand in that of another woman. The other woman was saying something, and it made her laugh. That was the happiest you had ever seen her look.

You took in a deep breath as you turned your head back to keep your eyes on the road ahead, your grip on the steering wheel tightening.

You hated this city, but it was your home. The only one you've ever known, and will ever know.

. . .

please do not repost my work, whether on tumblr or on any other site.

[pappydaddy]

For Her (s.h. + b.h.)

  A/N: This is for the lovely anon who asked for a platonic! Steve Harrington x Reader x platonic! Billy Hargrove where they go to prom. I added a little spice about people not believing that they are all just friends bc let’s be honest, people always assume they know more about what’s going on than they actually do. I loved prom even though people really did try to ruin it for me, but that is a story for another day if y’all wanna hear it. Writing this really made me go back to my high school years (my prom was three years ago, yikes) so thank you anon, it was really nice to revisit those days (even though I realized that I am actually old now😅). But anyway, it wasn’t specified what pronouns to use so I am using my default (she/her) like I outline in my Request Rules! Now enough of me trying to recapture my youth when I didn’t have chronic back pain 24/7 and on to the imagine! Hope you like it lovely anon💛!

pairing: platonic!steve harrington x fem!reader x platonic!billy hargrove

show/movie: stranger things

requested

au where billy never beat steve nearly to death

warnings: nothing? good times. some good steve vs. billy bickering. 

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

  “Come on, please!” Y/N pleaded, grabbing Billy and Steve’s sleeves to prevent them from walking away from the group. Billy and Steve both stopped, glaring at each other.

  “No.” They answered together, not turning to try and walk away again since Y/N still gripped their sleeves. They both resorted to turning their backs to each other like children. Heaving a sigh, Y/N used most of her strength to yank the two closer to her, her arms growing tired of reaching.

  “Can’t you two just get along for one night,” She asked, her eyes wide and pleading, her bottom lip sticking out. The sound of her voice made the two turn their heads enough to see her. “For me?” She pressed, turning her pouting eyes to Steve, knowing that out of either of them, he would break first. Steve also knew this, making him turn his head away from her, trying not to cave under her puppy-dog expression.

  “Sorry, Y/N/N, I would go with you in a heartbeat, but I can’t go with you if he is going with you.” Steve spoke a little louder, making up for the fact that his back was turned to her. Billy scoffed at this, shifting his weight, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip with an unimpressed glare on his face. Y/N slumped her shoulders, playing on Billy’s weaknesses now.

  “Billy,” She sounded as sad as she could, trying to get her two best friends to come with her to prom. He silently shook his head. “I can’t believe you two.” She sighed, her spirits breaking. Shaking her head in defeat, she let her hold on them drop, but neither boy moved despite regaining their freedom from their mutual friend. 

  “Y/N/N-” Steve breathed out, feeling guilty. He wanted to make her happy, but he just couldn’t handle Billy. The pair just could not get along. Steve constantly questioned how Y/N could be friends with someone like Billy Hargrove. Bad blood ran between them like rushing waters. 

  “No, it’s fine. You guys can’t get along, I know that,” She shook her head. “I should have never suggested this. I’ll just go with some of my girl friends, it’s fine.” She lied, trying to hide her disappointment (even though she was failing miserably). The two boys looked at each other, Y/N’s head bowed as she shuffled her feet against the broken pavement of the school parking lot. 

  “We’ll do it.” Steve declared, rolling his shoulders back to stand straight, tilting his chin up towards the sky in confidence. He wasn’t sure if he would regret this decision, but at that moment, he knew that it would make Y/N happy. Just the way her eyes lit up with excitement and the wide smile that stretched onto her face as she snapped her head up to look at him. 

  “For real?” She practically vibrated with excitement. Billy glared over Y/N’s head at Steve. Steve gave him a subtle look, telling him he better go along with it. With a heaving sigh, Billy’s body depressed for a second before he stood back up. 

  “Yeah,” He gruffed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “We’ll go to prom with you.” 

  “Oh my god! I can’t believe this,” She squealed, clapping her hands as she jumped up and down, looking between the minimally excited boys. “I am so excited! I have to go and start planning!” With that, she took off towards her car, leaving the two boys in their spots, glares set on each other. 

  “She is the only reason I’m doing this.” Billy stated. 

  “You think I’m doing this to get a date with you, Hargrove?” Steve bit back. They sneered at each other, hard glared burning into their skin. With a simultaneous grunt, they turned away from each other and walked to their cars; their shoulders tense as they tried to figure out how they could spend Prom night together without ruining it for Y/N.

____     

  “Y/N?” Billy’s gruff voice called through her empty house. She looked towards her open bedroom door, hearing the click of her front door shutting.

  “In my room!” She hollered to him, eyes dropping back down to the pieces of cut out magazine pages scattered around the bedspread in front of her legs. It only took a minute for Billy to shed himself of his shoes and pad along the carpet in his sock feet into Y/N’s room. He knew the layout of her house like the back of his hand.

  “Hey pipsqueak,” Billy smirked, spotting her sitting cross-cross on top of her soft pink comforter. She glanced up from her cut-outs to glare at him. “What’s that? Playing dolls or something?” He teased, spotting the cut-outs of people. Y/N mocked him as he flopped onto her bed, messing everything up.

  “Hey! You messed it up you big dodo!” She whined, trying desperately to get everything organized. Billy watched her before rolling onto his back, picking up a piece on his way. He held it in front of him, fiddling with it. It was a corsage filled with white flowers and a sprig of baby’s breath.

  “So why’d you call me over if you’re just going to ignore me?” He asked, flipping the flimsy paper over to see what was on the back. He read the words that were left from an article that had been sacrificed for a prom dream board.

  “I’m not ignoring you, you just got here earlier than I expected,” She pointed out, searching the bed for one last piece. Glancing at Billy, she sighed before leaning over to snatch the picture from his hands. He cried out in protest, rolling back over onto his stomach. “Don’t touch yet.” She scolded, fitting it back into place.

  “Hey Y/N/N! I brought snacks-“ Steve burst into the room, his eyes in the bag of snacks he brought. His entrance startled Y/N and Billy since they hadn’t heard him open the door. “Wait, why is he here?” Steve questioned immediately, looking up to see Billy in the room.

  “Yeah, you didn’t tell me Harrington was coming!” Billy looked back at Y/N.

  Y/N looked between the boys, shocked that they were so hostile towards each other. She knew they didn’t get along, but they couldn’t be in the same room as each other. Steve she understood sine Billy did try to beat him up and all. “We need to discuss prom details and I didn’t tell you guys because I knew that you wouldn’t come if the other was here.”

  “Not true-” Steve tried to argue, but Y/N simply gave him a look saying that she wasn’t going to buy his lies. “I would have sucked it up, might not have been happy about it, but I would have sucked it up non-the-less.” Steve insisted curtly. Y/N hummed in disbelief, resuming her task of matching bow-ties to the dresses. 

  “Okay, moving on,” She exclaimed, moving the paired clippings into the center of the bed. Clapping her hands, she bounced slightly on the bed. “These dresses are all the same colour as mine so these are the possible bow-tie colours you guys can buy,” She explained, pointing to each tie. “Then these,” She paused, sliding the clippings of corsages. “These are the corsages that will go with each tie and dress combo.” 

  “You want both of us to get you a corsage?” Billy inquired, flicking his eyes up from the scattered clippings to send her a questioning look. 

  “No, one corsage is enough, but you two both need boutonnieres,” She pointed out, grabbing another pile of clippings, letting the rain down onto a free bit of comforter. “This one is my favourite, but it would only really go with this corsage with only goes with this bow-tie-” She gasped, reaching for another corsage. “But this one is so pretty.” As she was busy trying to piece together the clippings, the boys both lifted their eyes to share a look. 

  “You just had to say we’d go together.” Billy grumbled under his breath, making sure only Steve heard. 

  “Suck it up, Hargrove. It’s for Y/N/N.” 

____ 

  Tonight was the night and Y/N could barely contain her excitement. Since it was senior prom, the seniors had a shorter day, getting off early in order to prepare for their last prom. “Two dates,” Her hairdresser repeated in a shocked voice, his jaw dropped as he looked at her through the mirror. Y/N nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Well, aren’t you just snatching them right up? Good for you.” He patted her shoulder, going back to put her hair in rollers. 

  “It’s not like that, they are my friends.” She corrected him, inspecting her freshly done nails. Her hairdresser hummed, pinning the last curler in place, stepping away to look over his work. 

  “Whatever you say,” He shrugged, sitting in the empty chair beside her as her makeup artist come into the salon. “Sarah, Y/N has two dates to the prom and she claims that they are just friends.” He filled the girl in as she set her supplies up. Sarah scoffed, assuming he was pulling her leg, but when neither of them laughed, she looked over her shoulder with a worried glance. 

  “Oh, you’re serious,” She realized, clearing her throat. “Just friends?” She asked Y/N to make sure as she started to get to work on her face. 

  “Deadly,” Y/N confirmed. “They basically hate each other so it was really had to get them both to agree to come as a group, but I managed.” She explained. 

  “I will believe this whole ‘just friends’ thing when I see that neither one of them has a thing for you.” Her hairdresser spoke up once again, watching Sarah as she applied the makeup to Y/N. Sarah hummed in response, focusing on blending the foundation. 

  “I second that Randy.”

  “Well, they’re picking me up from the salon so, you’ll both see it,” Y/N informed them, drumming her fingers against the arms of the chair, tapping her foot against the metal bar. “Then you’ll see that it’s true, we are just friends.” She gloated, ignoring the skeptical looks Randy and Sarah shared. 

____

  “Okay, Y/N, where are these two dreamboats?” Randy asked impatiently as Sarah helped Y/N into her dress. His eyes were glued to the door as he sat behind the receptionist desk, his elbows pressing into the desk. Shaking her head, Sarah muttered under her breath about his constant nagging as she zipped the back of Y/N’s dress up. 

  “They’re probably arguing about the address I told them, they’re both extremely stubborn and head-strong, especially when they’re around each other.” She told him, slipping into her shoes, walking out into the main part of the salon. Randy huffed, swirling around on the stool to face her, his eyes widening at the sight of her in her gown. 

  “Lord, if those two don’t nearly fall over when they see you, I’m not letting you go with them,” He commented, hopping off the stool to stride over to her, taking her hands in his, holding them away from her. “You look show-stopping. The belle of the ball.” He continued to compliment. 

  “Randy, I think they’re here.” Sarah nodded to the door just as the rev of an engine sounded as the blue Camaro pulled into the parking lot. Randy dropped Y/N’s hands, facing the door as he moved to stand behind her. Sarah and Randy clutched hands, waiting with bated breath as Y/N smiled lightly at the door, watching as Billy and Steve climbed out of the car in their tuxes, obviously arguing about something. 

  “Oh my gosh, you are a lucky girl,” Randy gasped, watching the two stride towards the door, two boutonnieres sitting in a case in Billy’s hands and a beautiful corsage in Steve’s. The dig of the bell above the door ceased their bickering, their eyes settling on Y/N standing in the center of the salon. Their breaths seemed to leave them as they froze, eyes wide. “Not the reaction I wanted, but still good.” Randy whispered to Sarah, his eyes still locked on the two boys. 

  “Wow, Y/N/N,” Steve breathed out, straightening up and walking into the salon. 

  “You look stunning.” Billy finished for him, also walking in, the door closing behind him. 

  “There is no way they are just friends, we can’t be wrong, can we?” Sarah asked, doubting that there was anything romantic between any of them. Randy remained silent, not wanting to answer her. 

  Steve extended the corsage sitting in the clear case to Y/N bashfully. “Here, this is for you, it’s the one you really liked and said went with your dress the best.” He spoke, fumbling to open the case. Y/N smiled, extending her wrist towards him gently. 

  “Why thank you, Steve,” She teased, watching as he slipped it onto her wrist. “It’s beautiful.” She breathed out in awe, twisting and turning her wrist as she gazed down at it. Steve watched her, also in awe of her beauty, she was simply glowing. 

  “If any of them liked her, my money is on that one,” Randy whispered, jutting his chin in Steve’s direction. “He’s got amazing hair.” He noted. Just as he spoke those words, Billy walked forward, extending the other clear case towards her. Y/N took it in her hands, gazing down at the matching boutonnieres. 

  “My money is on the other one, the bad boy who is only soft for one girl? Definitely him.” Sarah countered, watching him bend down slightly so that Y/N could pin one of the boutonnieres on him. Randy shook his head, his eyes watching Steve and Y/N as they did the same thing. Looking over at Sarah, he gave her a disapproving look. 

  “Look at them-” 

  “Thank you guys, I’ll show you the pictures tomorrow!” Y/N broke their argument, the two boys leading her out of the Salon. 

  “You’re welcome, have a great time!” Randy and Sarah chorused. 

____         

  The prom was in full swing when the three stepped into the gym. Y/N gazed around at the decorations, truly believing that the prom committee outdid themselves this year. Instead of a disco ball like every other year, there were moons hanging, a soft glow coming from each of them to dimly light the space, tons of shiny silver stars hung down all the way from the ceiling, ending only a few feet over everyone’s heads. Every piece of fabric whether it was draped over a table or covering up the walls and bleachers was a deep purple, sticking with the starry night theme. The centrepieces were deep purple flowers in vases that were a stunning sliver with purple hearts painted beautifully by hand. 

  Students laughed and talked loudly, but the music still boomed over their voices. A big crowd was grouped in the middle of the gym, dancing along to The Police, large smiles on their faces. The entire atmosphere made Y/N’s heart float in happiness and wonder. “This is just like in the movies!” She proclaimed, rushing off to take a closer look at the tables, Steve and Billy following behind her awkwardly. 

  “So how does this work?” Steve wondered, not thinking about how to share a prom date. Do they all slow dance together in a circle? If Steve wants to get Y/N punch, does he have to get punch for Billy as well? 

  “What do you mean how does this work,” Billy asked rudely, looking at the slightly shorter boy, making Steve sneer towards him in response. “Never been on a date before, Harrington?” Billy poked at him, Steve’s sneer turning into a scowl. 

  “Of course I’ve been on dates before, Hargrove,” Steve bit back. “I’m asking how we manage to do this without me having to touch you, ever.” 

  “Like I would want you to touch me, Harring-” 

  “Would you two cut it out, it’s quite simple how we go about this,” Y/N broke up their fight, turning around to face them. “We sit together, talk, dance together on fast songs, and I switch off between the two of you for slow songs. I thought it all out beforehand.” She waved them off, walking over to the punch table which also held a wide assortment of snacks, food and candy, all cut out in the shapes of stars and moons. 

  “I would like to point out that I don’t dance.” Billy grumbled as they followed her once again. 

  “I think you could dance for one night without it killing you.” Steve groaned, taking a cookie from the platter in front of him. Y/N swiped one for herself, taking a bite out of it as she ignored the bickering between the pair. 

  “Just a few songs,” Y/N settled, peering up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He huffed, looking away from her in an attempt not to fall under her puppy dog-eyed spell. “For me?” She said in a sweet tone, the tone that told Billy she was still sporting the wide eyes and pouty mouth. 

  Looking back down at her, he heaved another sigh. “Only a few songs.” He agreed, making her squeal and toss the rest of her cookie in the trash, grabbing both their hands to pull them onto the dance floor, knowing that when he said only a few, that he was agreeing to as many as she wanted. After all, these boys would do whatever she wanted for her.

[sevlgi]

ily #53

prompt: #53. “You don’t have to say anything.”

group: blackpink

pairing: jennie x fem!reader

genre: fluff, questionable angst

contents: best friend!jennie, 80′s au, reader is dating(?) nayeon, unrequited love

a/n: i’m sorry i have no clue about the 80′s, but y’all aren’t old enough for it to matter lmao

word count: 915

There are exactly three ways that Jennie Kim likes to spend her free time outside of classes.

One, she likes to play games (or really just get beaten at them) with her neighbor Jisoo. Jennie almost never wins, but she finds punching away at the newest game set in the arcade a fantastic way to spend her time. 

Two, she takes pictures of anything and everything she can, using the Polaroid camera that Lisa got for her birthday, even if she has at least 20 of the same shot of the leaves outside her window lingering on her nightstand.

And lastly, she stares at her phone by her bed, just waiting for you to call. 

It’s really not as pathetic as it seems, or so Jennie likes to argue; it’s perfectly normal to wait on calls from your best friend, and it’s perfectly normal for such nightly calls to be the best part of her day. Maybe the part where she can’t go to sleep without hearing your voice, where she skips whatever she’s working on at the moment just to talk to you, isn’t.

Even so, the moment she hears her phone buzz by her phone in the middle of the night, Jennie picks up immediately. “Hello?” She clears her throat and tries not to sound like she just got up-- after all, who sleeps before 1 am, in 1983?

“Jen.” Instantly, she freezes; your voice is stuffy, and you’re sniffling, still trying to keep it quiet. “Can I come over?”

“Y-yeah.��� She picks the entire phone up with her, rushing to smooth her bedsheets and open her window where she knows you’ll come through, asking in concern, “Are you okay?”

“I think I will be,” you answer, voice growing quieter. Jennie presumes that she hears the sound of you tugging a sweater on, though her heart pains to think about whose sweater it might be. “You’re sure it’s okay? I don’t want to wake everyone in your house up.”

Jennie sighs when the cord is too short for her to move any further and sits down. “It’s fine, just come through my window, the one you always do. It’s already open.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon,” is all you say before you hang up. Jennie sets her own phone down gently and crosses her legs, sighing as she turns to face the window until you arrive. 

It doesn’t take long, and that might be one of the few reasons why the two of you haven’t moved onto your college campus. She sees your sneaker first, then your hands gripping onto the sides of the window as you hoist yourself through. Then, Jennie’s eyes widen, because there are tears staining your face and dripping down the tip of your nose. “Y/N,” she exhales softly, and hugs you instantly.

You hiccup as soon as her arms make contact, sighing, “Thank you, Jen. I barely got to my own phone as it is, I didn’t want my mom to come in and ask why I was crying.”

“Why are you crying?” Jennie keeps her tone as gentle as possible as she moves to close the window, though the both of you know that she’s already plotting the demise of whoever mad you cry. She kind of already knows the answer.

“Who else? Nayeon,” you huff. You flop onto her bed, making room for her as you stare up to the ceiling. “We got in a fight, and I... I think it might be over.”

“Really?” Keeping the glee out of her voice, Jennie crawls onto the bed beside you. Your eyes are swollen when you meet hers, and she doesn’t stop herself from brushing another tear away. “I mean, you guys always get back together. Though you know how I feel.”

You laugh slightly and turn away. “Yeah, I know. I just... you see her with Jeongyeon, right? You see the way they talk, and how Nayeonnie just does it right in front of me? I don’t even know what to say to describe the way it makes me feel.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jennie shakes her head. “I know.”

Glancing at her, you ask, “Yeah?”

More than you’d ever imagine. “Yeah,” your best friend confirms. “I can help you talk to Nayeon tomorrow, I have class with her first.”

“Don’t,” you roll your eyes and swat her arm. Without realizing it, you’ve turned back, and the tip of your nose is barely centimeters away from Jennie’s. “You’ll just hit her or something and I’ll have to bail you out. I don’t have the money for that, you know.”

“Come on, you got 50 dollars for your birthday.” Jennie scoots back, even if it’s just for her own sanity, and pouts, “You wouldn’t bail your best friend out?”

You pretend to consider it, then shake your head woefully. “20 dollars, maybe. I can only promise the full 50 if you promise not to break her nose.”

“Done,” she giggles. “But, Y/N, you should seriously consider breaking up with her. If she always makes you feel like this.”

Sighing, you move to tug the covers over you despite the jeans you still wear. “Let’s talk about that tomorrow, okay? Thank you for being there.”

“I always will be,” Jennie agrees despite not wanting to change the subject. She turns the light off and lets darkness bathe the two of you, your breathing the only sound until she says softly, “And don’t you ever doubt that.”

[chiquitinchino]

【7:46pm】

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

ꕥ Fluffy Puffy ꕥ

Yunho x reader  

Warning Too cute to be true    (AU)

Descr: You are making up extra credit for your art class, so you decided to take a pottery class. Based on the name that was given to you, you thought that the teacher would be an old man. Your Pottery class turned out to be private lessons with a stunning young man that was around your age. Oh what to do . . where is this lesson going?

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

The professor from your art course is making you take lessons to boost your grade. Not that it was bad or anything, you just wanted an A to make your GPA look pretty. Your art teacher was a pain in the ass with her grades, “so stingy”, you would say to yourself. But pottery couldn’t be that bad. Every assignment was equally stressful as it was relaxing anyways. Best of both worlds I guess.

You chose from the list she had, “5 Ceramics/ Pottery lessons with Sir. Jeong” it was a weird last name and sounded old but you went with it. It was only 5 lessons and playing with clay how hard can it be? 

-

“Ugh It’s just 4:25 and it’s already so dark”, you said walking into your 4:30 class. Taking off all layers you sat comfortably on the stool. Right next to sign that said 4:30 class. No one was there. You were kinda creeped out. The lights were dim, the sun was already gone and all you heard was a person shuffling in another room. Not even a receptionist! “Oh these are private classes”, . . . “With an old maannnn. . .” You sat there wincing at yourself allowing your brain to wonder through 5 million different scenarios.

Thud! “Okay . . Class time”, you heard a voice say. It didn’t . . sound old. . Nor look 👀. A Tall handsome young man appeared in front of you. Black hair, very pink lips and soft eyes. Perplexed at what laid before you, the young man was . . Actually very very handsome.

“Sir Jeong???? He deserves the name of Mr. At least.”, you thought to yourself as the teacher walked towards you cleaning his hands from clay.

“So you’re my new student. Huh?”, he asked.

“Uhmmm, yes . . I guess”, you replied looking around.

“Haha alright let’s get started then”.

You were now so happy it was a private lesson. He was giving you a tutorial, and your eyes were just wondering his body. He face was full of concentration; body big for the little stool he was in; not lean, strong build; well rounded all around; his hands. . . Seemed strong. . You thought to yourself; his concentrated face gave him a different look than what he had when he walked in, but his cheeks squished your hearts with how soft and plushie they looked; and his black hair seemed so silky and soft; and his voice wasn’t rough or smooth or deep or high, but it was definitely sweet and full of patience and delicacy. “Like . . Honey, or maple sap”

WHIPPED IS WHAT YOU WERE

“Eehhhh, I would say more like dough, because it’s easier to structure than honey. But whatever makes you comfortable”, wide eyed you looked at his face. Blankly he stated back.

“Everything okay? You’re looking at me like I have 3 heads”.

Panicked you responded, “ah no no nothing Mr. Jeong, please continue”.

“Please call me Yunho, it’s weird to have someone around my age to call me that”

“Oh, okay then. . Yunho, please continue”.

After 30 minutes of Yunho talking and demonstrating you how to treat, knead, and play with the clay you were finally able to do it yourself. Excited you rolled up your sleeves. Sitting at the stool, Yunho stood in front of you watching you. He seemed taller and taller the closer he got. A little shy you dived in. You started off better than you expected. With enough confidence you entered the hard part, building your desired pot. Before molding your pit of clay you stood and took a few steps back. Thinking real hard on how you wanted it to come out. Like a light bulb it clicked. You went to work. Super concentrated you were building up your creation.

SNAP!

Just like that went your concentration as from the blink of an eye a ring of your clay was on one hand and the other places spinning on the wheel. You heard giggling from your side. Looking over you saw Yunho giggling. “No go ahead do as I showed you”, “Ehhh. . . Ha. . . “, you liked blankly at your mold not moving. Looking back over to Yunho he wasn’t there. Thud, you heard something behind you. It was a stool that wasn’t there when you first sat down, and it was reallllllllllly close. A rush of black flooded your sight. It was just Yunho sitting behind you.

“Come. look.”, he said wetting his hands. You turned around quickly, as your face flushed red realizing what’s about to happen. His chest bumped onto your back lightly leaning you forwards, his arms stretched forward towards the mold and taking the clay in your hands. Molding it into what it used to be. Extremely flustered you watched his hands.

“See ?”, He said standing up from the stool.

“You remember now ?”

“mhm”

Why are you so hot, you felt like sweating. UGGGHH what was thattt?! He was so warm and delicate with me. He might have sat behind me but he didn’t even touch you much. Is he really that big or am I just small. So many thoughts rushed through your head while you tried building your vase. Every few minutes your clay would flop, break, and bend too far. After thinking for too long you just grew frustrated.

“Ughh come onnn”, you talked badly to your clay. Putting it back and adding more pressure to your art. And SNAP.

The damn clay broke off.

Tensing up you squished the clay in your hand.

“Hey, heyyy don’t take it out on the clay now”, you heard a voice behind you say softly. His big hand brushed against your clenched fist. Feeling another hand on your other shoulder, you saw Yunho’s face pop on your side view.

“Let’s try again, this time let me help you, okay?”, he said slightly smiling.

Feeling something on your hand you looked at your hand. His hand. His though brushing against your hand to ease up. Looking back, how could you not calm down. Releasing the tension, you let the frustration fall off your face.

Yunho let out a cheeky smile, “great okay, now lets go back to putting it on the mold”, his voice was so . . Patient it was so sweet. He held both of your hands to the mold. And you both wet your hands in wet clay. You can feel his chest on your back. His breathe was calm. And his skin was soft. He was very warm too. You oddly felt safe.

“Done”, In an instant your bubble popped. “Huh?” You looked at the vase before you. It wasn’t the one you wanted to make exactly but it still was pretty. Popping up once again at your side you looked over your shoulder. It was a smiling Yunho. You quickly turned around flustered of the pretty boy.

He got up and placed the stool in it’s place. “I think that should be it for our class today, I am going to heat it up so then we can paint next class”, Yunho explained to you. It seemed like everything was moving so fast. You weren’t ready to leave him. He was too dreamy please don’t let the class be over yet.

The moment you laid your eyes on him, it’s as if time stopped. But in reality it went by faster than light you complained to yourself. Sulking you picked up your stuff.

He walked you to the door and you walked out “till next class”, he said

Looking back, you wanted to take a picture of this exact moment. His cute smile and the way he stood at the door. Little did you know this exact moment, was engraved in your brain, you just had to wait more time till you realized this night would be the night you always come back to thinking about him.

“Till next class”

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

Authors note: I meeaannnn if y’all want more ain’t nobody complaining. Just let me know.

———————————————————————————————————

[yandere-society]

Sugar Rush

Synopsis: You thought the breakup had gone well, but your ex-girlfriend Yoonji didn’t seem to get the message. When you go out with friends to party on Halloween night, you encounter Yoonji in an unexpected way – and you discover just how far she’ll go to get you back.  

Pairing: Min Yoonji x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Yandere themes, blood/mentions of blood, stalking, restraints, safeword violation, torture, suicide mention, gore

Headline: Woman In Sumo Wrestler Suit Assaulted Ex-Girlfriend In Gay Pub After She Waved At Man Dressed As A Snickers Bar

Admin: @psycho-slytherin​

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Ooh – gah!”

“Y/n?” Mia pokes her head into the kitchen. Her pupils are pure black, and she looks to be crying blood. “What happened?”

“Ugh, I think my mom sent me these roses and I pricked myself on a thorn,” you reply, sucking on your bleeding finger irritably. You lay down the card that came with the bouquet, which reads See you soon! “You look great.”

“Thanks! I’m a student.” Mia steps forward to reveal a school uniform shirt, sweatpants, and flip-flops. 

“Uh…”

“Cause I’m stu-dying, get it?”

You snort. “Very nice.”

“What are you? You haven’t changed!”

You sigh. “I don’t think I’m going to dress up.” You can’t shake Halloween’s association with her.

“What? But 66 Below has their ‘free drink for a costume’ thing going on. C’mon, why not?”

You shrug, looking at your bleeding finger. Roses always seem to have it out for you. “It was our anniversary.”

“Wait, is this about Yoonji? Y/n, you broke up with her! If you regret it so much, get back together. The girl was head over heels with you, I’m sure she’d be down.”

You shake your head. “I’m not getting back together with her. Definitely not.” You and Yoonji were together for three years, long enough that you had started wondering if it would turn into forever. As time went on, however, you began to notice unnerving little quirks in her behavior. She was scaring you, and you ended things soon after. “Besides, she was always so neurotic that I would cheat on her with a guy.”

Mia rolls her eyes. “Biphobia at its finest. Well, fuck Yoonji. It’s been months – now get dressed. It’s Halloween, and we’re going out! Besides, Aisha is meeting us there.”

You laugh. “I don’t have a costume.”

“I have an extra that I brought with me – it’s an unnecessarily sexy angel, it didn’t fit my sister. Try it!”

Angel. That was Yoonji’s name for you. You sigh, dragging yourself away from the traitorous roses and following Mia down the hall.

Soon enough, Mia is putting the final touches on your makeup. “Ooh, you’re glowing!”

“I don’t know why you sound surprised when it’s your fault,” you retort before catching a look at yourself in the mirror.

You’re wearing a white silky babydoll dress – the kind that you’d only wear in the bedroom. She’d love it. You’re sporting white fishnets and feathered wings, with a golden headband resembling a halo to complete the look. Mia has done your makeup expertly, with lots of rose and gold, so that you look perfectly angelic. You add your favorite rainbow earrings for some added pride. Still, the outfit…

“Isn’t this a little… risque?” Yoonji would never let you wear something like this out.

“I don’t want anyone else laying eyes on my angel,” she would croon in your ear. “You’re all mine. I’ll never let anyone else touch you.”

“It’s Halloween, Y/n, as long as the goods are covered you’re set.”

You peer out of the window. The sun has set, and groups of kids are out in spades for trick-or-treating. You used to love Halloween – it had always been your favorite holiday, long before you and Yoonji made it official four years ago.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

She stared at you for a long time. “Do you promise never to cheat? You’ll be loyal to me alone?”

You laughed. “Of course! I like you, I want to date you!

“In that case…” She leaned forward and kissed you. Her vampire costume meant you got fake blood all over your lips. “Happy Halloween, angel.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Mia nods. Her black contact lenses are… well, they’re not unintimidating. You’re glad to be able to spend this Halloween with her, and not worry about your ex-girlfriend.

66 Below has long been your and Mia’s favorite LGBTQ bar. With its live music, pride flags, and vintage decor, you feel as though you’re stepping into an extra-queer period piece.Yoonji never liked it; she thought it was too crowded. Tonight, almost everyone is dressed up in costume, enjoying 66 Below’s 'first drink free’ policy.

“Mia! Y/n! Over here!” Mia’s girlfriend Aisha gets your attention, waving at you from a booth. You’ve never encountered a more loving couple, and you know Mia’s planning on proposing to her soon. Aisha is dressed as… “Wait, what is she wearing?” You ask as you and Mia join her. Aisha looks like she printed a graded school paper onto white clothing, complete with red marks and typos. Over her heart is a big red F. In response to your quizzical glance, Aisha points to the F.

“Geddit? I’m a failing grade! I specifically wanted to be a final exam, but…”

You laugh. Mia and Aisha must have coordinated that. You scan the bar and note you’re not the only angel. There’s also some devils, ghosts, animals, anime characters, Iron Man, a Snickers bar, two Harry Potters, and – of course – inappropriately sexy children’s cartoon characters. You love Halloween.

“Y/n, c’mon, let’s grab drinks,” Mia says, but her eyes seem unwilling to leave Aisha’s. Their love reminds you of yours… or, what you thought was love. Towards the end of your relationship, you began to realize Yoonji’s idea of love was very different from yours.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get yours. What do you want?”

“You sure?” When you nod, Mia reels off her order. You approach the bar, smiling at your favorite bartender. “Hey, Jaewon!” 

“Do mine eyes deceive me, or is that Y/n beneath the halo?”

Jaewon pretends to be blinded. He’s dressed as what you can only assume is slutty Mario.

“Shush, you. I’ll have an IPA and a margarita, please.”

“Sure thing.”

As you’re waiting for your drinks, the person in the Snickers costume slides into the seat next to you. “Nice costume, angel.”

You stare at him, a brow raised. If you weren’t at a gay bar, you’d think he was flirting. “Thanks, Snickers.”

“Who are you here with?”

You nod at the booth, where Mia and Aisha are now kissing intensely.

“Y’all poly or are you third wheeling?”

You laugh. “The latter. I’m not the relationship type.” Not anymore. Not after you realized how you were so easily manipulated into thinking Yoonji’s behavior was love. But the way she would kiss you, and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, tangling her hand in your hair…

“Yeah, I get you. Couples’ costumes are scary by default to me,” the Snickers jokes. “Perfect for Halloween. I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

“Y/n. Are you here with anyone?”

Namjoon glances around. “I was here with my buddy, but I think he left to fuck one of the Harry Potters. Which is funny, now that I think about it, since he was dressed as Dumbledore.”

You snort. “Oh my god. Well, if you want a group to join, I’ll be third-wheeling over there.” Jaewon reappears with your drinks and a wink.

“I might just take you up on that, angel. Happy Halloween!”

“Hey!” Mia says, finally coming up for air. Miraculously, her bloody tears have stayed put. “Who was that guy you were talking to? He seemed cute!”

“He’s probably gay,” you remind your friend. “He was sweet, though, I invited him to come over if he wanted to – his friend left him. Is that okay?”

Mia and Aisha glance at each other. “Actually, we were wondering…”

You look at the two suspiciously. “Yes?”

“There’s this event happening at 4Sooth,” Aisha says, referencing another bar downtown, “Where the best couples’ costume gets a cash prize. We were thinking… well, zombie student, failing grade…”

Oh. Why did you come here in the first place, then?

“Yeah, you guys totally have a chance!” You offer with as much enthusiasm as you can muster. “Should we go there?”

“The thing is…” Aisha looks at Mia, who shows you the event announcement on her phone.

“Well, the other prize is a night in the ‘Halloween Suite’ at the hotel next door, y’know?” Mia says quickly, a note of pleading in her voice.

Ohhhh. “Right, okay. So… I’ll just stay here, then.”

“Are you sure?” Mia asks anxiously. You can see her on the fence between guilt and excitement.

“Yeah, it’s fine!” You insist. “I’m good at making friends. Have fun!” Just because you have to be alone on Halloween, doesn’t mean Mia and Aisha can’t have a good time.

“You’re the best, Y/n, I owe you!” Mia gives you a quick kiss on each cheek before she and Aisha head out. As soon as they’re out of sight, your smile slips from your face and you sigh, nursing your beer. It’s Halloween, what would have been your and Yoonji’s fourth anniversary, and you’re alone at a bar. Pathetic. You turn to costume-watching, admiring the Big Bird, Dorthy from The Wizard of Oz, a sumo wrestler, and several queer or genderbent characters from all sorts of media.

Namjoon, the Snickers, is looking at you from his seat at the bar. He raises a quizzical brow at the now-empty booth, and you roll your eyes and shake your head in response.

He purses his lips, tipping his glass in acknowledgement.

Wonderful. A bar of candy pities me. You wave, motioning for Namjoon to come join you. You were both alone – why not?

Almost as soon as you lower your hand, several things happen at once: a blur of tan crosses your vision; you hear a loud BANG, and feel a sudden, incomprehensible, searing pain shoot through the back of your head; something warm trickles down your face; there are lips against your ear, whispering words you can’t understand; far-off shouts and screams; and the world goes dark.

“Told you that you’d cheat… you’re just a whore for them… but now you’re all mine again.”

“Mmnn…” you groan, blinking hard. Your head hurts – everything hurts. You feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. You’re lying on something soft. Did you go to bed? You move to rub your temple, but your wrist is tugged back by… rope. Rope? Your eyes widen and you begin to struggle furiously against the restraints, yanking until you feel your hands are going to detach themselves. “What the fuck?” Your wrists are tied to bedposts. Shit. Were you drugged? Was it Jaewon the bartender? “HELP! Somebody! Help me!” Your shoes are gone, and – oh, no – your white dress is stained and splattered with blood. Yours? When you try to pull yourself up, your vision floats before you. You can feel warm blood trickling down your head, tickling your scalp. You fall back onto the pillow, trying to force your vision to focus. “Help me…”

Suddenly, you hear heavy footsteps, and a voice that makes you freeze.

“Looks like I nabbed myself a pretty little angel. Talk about fallen from grace, right?”

Your cries for help freeze in your throat. “Yoonji?”

And in walks your ex-girlfriend, the blow-up sumo wrestling suit deflating around her. That flash of tan… so she was there, at 66 Below. Her pristine black bob hasn’t changed in the last few months, and her makeup is perfectly done. As the suit empties, she steps out of it, wearing her favorite outfit of black tights and skirt with a cream blouse.

“Let me go,” you croak. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed in her fist. Your fighting spirit seems to have evaporated in the face of the woman you once loved. It doesn’t make sense… or does it make too much sense? You knew she was possessive – it’s why you ended things. But this? “Yoonji… please. Please.”

Yoonji pretends not to hear you, instead walking around the bed to inspect your restraints. Of course, now that you’ve collected yourself, you recognize her bedroom. In fact, it’s not your first time being tied to these same bedposts.

“Red. Yoonji, please, red,” you try desperately, hoping the safeword might make her relent. For a moment, her cool expression falters. It’s quickly replaced with raw fury.

“You want to try calling red?” She snarls, looking right at you. “You cheated on me. You broke up with me!”

“I never cheated!” You cry, kicking out at her in vain. “You always thought I was cheating on you – I didn’t do anything!”

“I saw you,” she replies, raising a hand and bringing it down hard on your cheek. Your head jerks to the side and you can taste blood. Your face is on fire, it must be, how can it hurt so badly? “It’s our anniversary. I saw you wave at that candy bar.” Another slap leaves your jaw aching. “Fucking whore, do you flirt with every man you see? Girls like you can never be faithful.”

“We’re not together anymore!” You yell, pulling hard on the ropes. They’re much stronger and more coarse than any Yoonji has used with you before, and you bite back a yelp of pain at the rope burn. Your head hurts so much, and your chest is heaving with anxiety. Is she going to kill you? “You’re insane. Let me go – they’ll find out I’m gone. They’ll call the police.” After you and Yoonji broke up, you moved in with Mia. Surely she’ll be concerned when you don’t show up.

Yoonji laughs softly. It’s the way she would laugh when she had a secret. “Well… you did text your housemate to tell her you were going home with the Snickers bar. She’s not expecting you – and that contest is going to keep her at the hotel all night anyways.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. How does she know? “What text? Where’s my phone?”

Yoonji lazily fishes your phone from her pocket. “You really haven’t changed your password?”

“Give that back! Let me go!” You twist your hips and kick hard in her direction, scoring a tiny victory when your phone goes flying from Yoonji’s hand. In the split second that she’s leaned over to retrieve it, you try to see if you can feel any slack at all in the ropes binding your wrists. Yes! There’s something. Maybe your situation isn’t hopeless after all.

Your spirits fall by the wayside when you see Yoonji rise with a terrifying smile on her face. “What a frisky angel, you like to kick, don’t you? Maybe I should tie those lovely legs too.”

“No- don’t touch me! Yoonji, c’mon…” your voice breaks when you see her pull a length of rope from her closet. “W-what are you going to do with me?”

“What am I going to do with you? Exactly what I’ve always wanted to. I’m going to make sure no one else will ever touch you again. You’re mine, angel, you always have been.” Yoonji reaches for your legs and you kick wildly, desperate to escape. Your heart feels like a racehorse in your chest, and sheer adrenaline numbs the throbbing pain in your head.

“Stop… struggling!” Yoonji hisses furiously as she makes a grab for your foot. “Ungrateful bitch. Why are you always trying to get away from me? All I did was love you!”

Now. You slam your heel into her chin, and her head snaps upward with the force of your kick.

For a second you feel like she’s about to crumple to the ground, but instead she lowers her gaze to stare into your soul once more.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Yoonji massages her jaw, and when she speaks, blood drips from between her lips. She begins to pace around the bed, avoiding your kicks. “Bad angel… maybe you’re just a devil in disguise, huh? I always knew you were a dirty fucking liar. And you didn’t even say thank you for the roses.”

The roses? Your eyes widen. See you soon. They were from her? “Fuck you,” You say in response, surreptitiously tugging and relaxing the slack on your right hand’s rope. “I never cheated. You were just scared that I could love men and women. Well, guess what? I loved you! For years, until I realized you never loved me back.”

“What?” You see horror cloud Yoonji’s face. “You fucking bitch. ALL I did was love you!”

You shake your head, determined to keep her talking. She’s out of range of your kicks for now. If you could just get your hands free…

You feel suddenly woozy. Are there two… no, three Yoonjis? Shit. Now is not the time for a concussion.

“You never loved me. You were obsessed and insane. Don’t you hear yourself?” You say, your volume increasing. You know the walls are well-insulated, but she’s still in an apartment complex. Maybe the neighbors will hear? Another tug on the rope. You twist your wrist, and for a second you can feel it loosening. “You only wanted me so that no one else could have me!”

“You’re lying.” Maybe it’s a reflection of your bloody dress, or the blood dripping from her mouth, but for a second her eyes seem to shine red.

You shake your head. You’ve almost got a hand free. “You’re the one who’s lying, Yoonji. You’re lying to yourself.” Dizzy again. “You – ngh – you can just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.” Almost got a hand free. How long has it been?

Suddenly Yoonji is looming over you. “Ah, but you forgot.” She spits at you, and a mouthful of scarlet blood hits the white pillowcase. Some of it splatters on your cheek. You keep tugging at the tie around your left hand. It’s much tighter than your right. She’s rummaging in her bedside drawer, and that look in her eyes… you’re scared. “I might’ve let an angel go, but you decided you’re not an angel. You’re a devil. And where do devils belong?”

“Uh…”

“That’s right.” Yoonji shows you what she’s retrieved: a lighter. She walks around the bed to the bottom right corner of the duvet. “Devils like you should stay in hell.”

“Yoonji. Yoonji, what are you –” She lowers the lighter to the duvet, and you see the cloth begin to smoke before a small flame forms on the bed, flickering but gaining in strength. “YOONJI!”

“I told you, Y/n.” Her voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it as she wipes more blood from her chin. “I’ll never let anyone touch you again.”

“C’mon, please, this is too much,” you say, your voice bleeding into hysteria as you thrash around, trying to kick the burning blanket away from your body. The fire begins to grow, and in your frenzied movement you accidentally burn your foot. You jerk away, yanking at the ropes on your wrists. You’re wearing fishnet stockings – if those catch fire, it’ll travel all the way up your body in a flash. “Let me go! Let me go, you psycho!”

Yoonji makes a pouty face. “Poor baby. Let you go… or what?”

“Please!” You shriek as the fire grows, the smoke now visibly rising from the bed. “Yoonji, I’m sorry, please, please…”

“I missed hearing you beg, my love. What a delicious Halloween treat. And if you need to blame anyone…” Yoonji pauses and smiles. The blood has gotten between her teeth, giving her a terrifying undead look. “Blame that Snickers bar.”

With that, she leaves the room and closes the door behind her. Fuck. You tug furiously at your right hand, where the rope has significantly loosened. You can feel the heat from the flames, dangerously close to you. “C’mon, c’mon…” You’re not going to die here, what a terrible headline. Who would write your obituary? You fight through another wave of dizziness. “Fucking hell!” With effort that leaves your muscles trembling, you wriggle your right hand out of its ties, and it quickly flies to your other hand. Maybe you’ll survive.

Unless she locked the door. Yoonji is four floors up. From that height…

You quickly work through the knots on your left wrist, which Yoonji tied so tightly you can’t feel several of your fingers anymore. Faster. Your nails are broken from tearing at the rope, and at one point the nail on your middle finger catches and gets stuck fast in the rope. The fire has spread to the carpet, and thick, black smoke is billowing up. You take a deep breath and brace yourself for the pain – it’s nothing compared to burning alive – and yank your hand back.

“Gah!” It’s a furious pain, for so small a point. The fingernail is ripped off your finger and hangs there as your nail bed bleeds freely. You force yourself to keep moving, to undo the knot or rip the rope off completely but the pain makes it hard to breathe…  or is it the smoke quickly filling the air? With movements made jerky by panic, you at last find a loose end and pull it through the knot. The rope around your wrist loosens and you’re able to slip your hand out. You’re not going to think about the fact that you can’t feel three of your fingers or move them properly. You’re free. You look around wildly, rushing for the door. You rattle the handle, but it’s locked. You can try to kick through it? But what if Yoonji is on the other side of the door, and shoves you back into the flames? The window next to the bed is locked too. But… You bend down and, straining, lift her entire bedside nightstand up. As soon as you stand your legs wobble and threaten to collapse, and you feel blood continue to drip down your neck and back. You stumble, almost to the window, but–

“Ugh-” You lose your grip and the nightstand crashes to the floor, almost on your foot. At that moment, you’re tempted to break down completely. What if you just… gave up? If you go through the window, you’ll probably die in the fall. Through the door, if you can even kick it down, and Yoonji will surely be waiting for you. You could just stay here, where at least death is a merciful certainty.

No – what are you thinking? You have to live. If you die, Yoonji will be free, and you won’t be able to tell your story. If you die now… she wins.

You adjust your stance and, arms trembling, lift the nightstand once more. The air is getting harder to breathe, you don’t know how much longer you have. You heave the nightstand at the window and it crashes straight through the glass, smashing down onto the street four stories below. Wait – the street. It must only be a little past midnight, because you can see some teens and adults still walking the street in costume. Passersby!

“HELP!” You shriek, waving your hand. You’re cut and bleeding in several places from flying glass, and you surely look fit for Halloween.

Wait. Hang on. One of the adults laughs and points up at you. “Great costume!” he yells.

“No, no, no…” the smoke is getting thicker, the fire closer. “Please- please help!” What you need to be a strong yell comes out a broken sob. “There’s a fire! Please help me!”

Two groups seem to realize it’s not just a Halloween prank, and you see some people whip out their phones to call the police. Several more rush forward, but clearly have no plan other than to stand beneath the window.

The police will take too long. You blink through the smoke, which is now visible through the window. You will not burn alive. And you won’t let Yoonji walk free, not after this. You brush the broken glass away from the windowsill and carefully step onto the ledge, a bleeding angel in the night. Your wings and white dress glow in such contrast to the walls that it looks like you’re flying.

You hear gasps and screams, and a “Don’t jump!”

Idiot. As though you have a choice. No, you only have one choice left, and you’re making it count. “My name is Y/n L/n,” You yell, forcing down a smoky cough, “And the person who killed me is Min Yoonji!”

No time to think. You step forward off the ledge, closing your eyes. Forty feet isn’t that far to fall, maybe you’ll make it.

Fucking Snickers bar.

[winchesterandpie]

Just as Brave (Diego Hargreeves x reader)

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x reader

Word Count: 1433

Warnings: some angst, some insecurity, mostly hurt/comfort fluff

A/N: Y’all expressed some interest in me writing this, which is good because literally I have been vibrating with the energy of my obsession with 1 (one) precious stabby boi aka Diego Hargreeves since I binged the series. It took me one day to get through season 1, and I was hooked from the start. So it’s safe to say that this was inevitable. There’s probably gonna be another one soon, lol.

But anyways, here’s just some fluff for him. Reader has a nightmare, which triggers some underlying insecurities, and who’s there to fix it but Diego! Yay! As usual, I try my best to keep the reader gender neutral, please let me know if I slipped up anywhere! Gif is not mine! Hope you enjoy!

It was late when Diego stumbled through the door, one hand clutching his side. The noise of the door startled you awake, your grogginess vanishing as you saw how much blood he was losing. You leapt up and hurried to help him to the bathroom, tugging his arm over your shoulders to keep him upright.

“Diego, what the hell happened out there?”

“I’m alright.” He could barely get the words out, which didn’t assure you. 

Still, you ignored the growing pit of dread in your stomach to help him sit on the edge of the bathtub. Your hands shook as you pulled the first aid kit from under the sink, though you tried to keep them steady. A thud sounded behind you, and you whirled around to find Diego collapsed into the tub.

“Diego? Diego, sweetheart, you’ve gotta hang on.” As carefully as you could, you lifted him to a sitting position to pull up his sweater so you could find the source of the blood. It was a nasty-looking gash, worse than you had seen on him in all the late nights of his patrolling. The blood was still coming too quickly, and you knew you would have to stitch the cut to have any chance at saving him. But the needle wouldn’t thread. 

Your eyes were blurring as you tried again, but you just couldn’t seem to get the thread to cooperate, eventually abandoning it to check for a pulse, only to find it weak and fading quickly. Even if you could manage to stitch him up, he needed much more than you could do for him here more quickly than you could get it for him.

“Diego? Diego! No, no, no, no, no, no, please no!” 

“Hey.”

“Diego!” you spoke urgently, desperately, no longer able to keep your tears from falling.

“Hey!” 

You woke with a start, finding the very same dark-haired man leaning over you with concern in his eyes. He had clearly just gotten home and hadn’t even taken off his harness full of knives. You breathed out his name in relief and suddenly his arms were around you, pulling you to sit in his lap.

“Hey, you’re alright now. It’s ok, I’ve got you.” He mumbled quiet reassurances into your hair. You trembled in his careful grip, the memory of your nightmare still too vivid to stop crying into his chest. Diego held you for a long time as you calmed down slowly. “What happened, baby?”

“I… you… you were…” You took a breath to steady yourself, closing your eyes until you felt his hand on your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his soft gaze. “You came home and you were hurt. It was… It was really bad, Diego. I couldn’t even thread the damn needle and you--” You couldn’t finish the sentence, shaking your head as you ducked down to hide in his chest again. You had always had trouble stitching him up, barely able to stand the little noises of pain he made, though he tried to suppress them.

“It was just a nightmare, ok? I’m alright. I’m ri-- I’m right here.” His hand splayed across your back, pressing into you as though trying to provide additional reassurance.

“But what if you weren’t? What if you got hurt and I couldn’t do what you needed? Couldn’t be who you needed?”

He said your name softly, but you could hear the confusion in his voice. “What do you mean?”

“You’re so brave and brilliant and sweet and funny, and I…” The rest of your words fell from your lips so softly you weren’t even sure he could hear them, especially since they were muffled by his sweater. “I’m just me. Sweetheart, you do so much for everyone else, you deserve someone who could at least patch you up without panicking.”

“Woah, hey, look at me.” His hands slid up to your shoulders to hold you where he could look you in the eye, then came up to cradle your cheeks. “I’ve been doing this stuff all my life--I don’t even notice a lot of it anymore. You’re afraid of hurting me more, afraid you’ll get it wrong, but you push past that every time. Baby, you’re just as brave as I am... probably more. ” His forehead rested against yours as calloused thumbs gently brushed away your tears as you let your eyes drift shut.

“But what if you get hurt and I don’t know what to do?”

“That’s not gonna happen--I know what I’m doing.” He nudged your nose lightly, grinning cheekily when he got a watery chuckle from you. “I wouldn’t do that to you, ok?”

You hummed an agreement, nodding slightly against him.

“And you’re not just anything, alright? You’ve seen all of me and you haven’t run away.” You opened your eyes, intending to protest, but he continued before you could open your mouth. “You are so incredible, and I should tell you that more often. You know I’m not good with words, but there’s no one I trust more than you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”

His dark eyes held your gaze, and you couldn’t see anything but softness and care in their depths. You would have been happy to get lost in them, but then you remembered that he’d been out patrolling before you woke.

“Wait, Diego, you just got back. Are you hurt?” you asked, pulling back so you could scan his form. He watched you for a minute as you ran your hands up his arms and down his sides with your brow furrowed, but then he stopped you, carefully grasping your elbows to make sure you were listening.

“Just a few bruises. I promise I’m ok.” He relented enough to let you help him take off his knives. When you went to pull up his sweater to make sure he wasn’t more seriously injured, he stopped you, mumbling your name before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Let me help. Please?” You reached out toward him, waiting for Diego to let you treat him.

“You just had a nightmare, let me take care of you.”

“This’ll help me. Promise. I just wanna be sure you’re alright.” 

The dark-haired vigilante yielded then, allowing you to tug the turtleneck up and over his head. He was right--only a few bruises blossomed darkly on his skin, most of which were scattered on his arms. You did what you usually did for his bruises, pressing a feather-light kiss to each of them. There wasn’t much else you could do. When you were finished, you let him pull you back into his lap, the new position allowing you to kiss along his jaw, across his cheeks, on the tip of his nose, taking your time as you traced his features with your lips. He reciprocated easily, his lips falling wherever they could reach as you moved unhurriedly. One of your hands slid into his soft hair, threading through the short strands.

“Are you ever… gonna… kiss me… properly?” he asked between slow presses of his lips.

“Mmmmm, you’d like that, huh?” You pulled back a bit, nudging against his nose. 

His grin turned soft as his palm came to rest on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking along your jaw. Lazily, Diego leaned toward you, pressing his lips against your own. The kiss was slow and sweet, both of you relaxing into each other. The last of your doubts and worries slipped away, reassured by his gentle embrace, by the soft side he saved only for you. Your hands found their way to his cheeks, holding him there as you tried to offer him the same affection he offered you.

You parted too soon for your taste, though neither of you went far, still breathing the same air. If you were honest with yourself, you were starting to fall back asleep in his arms, finally at ease. He rubbed his thumb across your jaw a final time before moving his hand to squeeze one of yours briefly. Tiredly, he flopped back on the bed, tugging you down to lay on his chest. 

“Sleep now, I’ve got you.”

“I love you.” You turned your head more into him so you could press a kiss to his chest, though the need for sleep was quickly catching up to you.

“Love you too.” The words were mumbled into your hair, followed by a kiss, and they were the last thing you heard as you drifted off.

Thanks for reading!!

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[alienoresimagines]

Heart Meet Break | Eugene Sledge x Gender Neutral!Reader

Requested by Anonymous :  Hi could you please write number 1 prompt list imagines “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it" with Eugene Sledge?

A/N : Here we are after 9 weeks without posting and more than one year after receiving this request!😂😅 Hope y’all didn’t forget about me 🤣 and that you are all safe for this holidays season To be honest I had written this in october but I’m posting it just now because.. well I have no idea but it’s here now ;) (actually I do and it’s because @inglourious-imagines​ kicked my a**) I started so many times and I’m not completely pleased with how it turned out but I hope you’ll enjoy! Also a big thank you to @punkgeekchic​ for beta reading, hope you’re doing okay darling see you in January!💙💙Title from Heart Meet Break de Liam Payne, also stream his songs please!😘

Taglist : @murphyism​ @mavysnavy​ @speirs-sexy-ass​ @order-of-river-phoenix​ @inglourious-imagines​ @liebegott​ @tvserie-s-world @stressedinadress​ @warrior-healer​ 

Posted : 23/12/2020

Masterlist Taglist Prompts

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You could feel the beginning of a headache building behind your eyelids, and the welcomed pain in your feet after hours of passing on your bedroom's floor in a circle. Bringing a hand to your face to pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a long sigh, you let yourself fall onto your bed with a quiet flop. As soon as your back hit the soft sheet, the urge to go back to your feet and do something came back in a rush. A distraction would save your floor.

"[Y/N]! Could you take out the trash, please, dear?" Her sudden call startled you, too lost in your thoughts but you were quick to answer, knowing already there was only one good answer. 

"I'm coming, mom!" You shouted back, putting on your shoes in a slow pace. A distraction was your floor's savior but definitely not your heart's or mind's. You could only pray you'd meet your neighbor while walking through the yard. 

The stairs were cracking under your steps, as you still didn't know if you should feel nervous or hopeful. The twist in your stomach was a mix of both, the sweat on your palms said it all. 

Always so thoughtful, your mother had put the trash bag just next to the front door, ready to be taken out. 

"Ah, [Y/N], while you're out, could you bring this to the Sledges? Mary has been kind enough to share her pie with us, the least I can do is bake her one too." Your mother appeared at the door between the entrance and the kitchen with what you guessed was a plate wrapped in a clean cloth. 

The years passing didn't do her past beauty's justice but her eyes hadn't changed, nor did the way she looked at your father. 

"Sure, I'll go to the library after, do you know if Father needs anything?" You smiled, taking the package from her wrinkled hands carefully as she smiled at you, shaking her head in denial. 

With the black trash bag in one hand and the white cloth covering the quite heavy pie, you went out, but not before kissing your mother's cheek.

The warm air of this beginning of autumn was like the wind of freedom after having spent the day in your bedroom like a lion in a cage. You were about to take a deep breath when you remembered the trash bag in your hand. Right. No matter how good and sweet your mother's pie was and smelled, your nose still felt attacked by the trash. When you finally had put the black bag where it belonged you started to walk out of your parents' property, heading to the house next door. His house. All the feelings and thoughts you had forgotten came back, overwhelming you and making your legs shake. 

"Deacon! Deacon, where are you going?" Either your lucky star was laughing at you or pitying you. You'll decide tonight, hidden under your sheets with all your dreams and hopes. 

Just a few seconds later, a small dog went panting at your legs, presenting his head for ruffles. You chuckled and kneeled down to his level, giving him what he craved for.

"Good boy aren't ya, Deacon?" Cooing, you couldn help the warmth that spreaded through your chest, and refused to acknowledge the man with the bicycle approaching you. 

"[Y/N]! I didn't think I'd found you here." His tone was nervous and unsure as if he would've rather stayed silent. In some ways, you would've wished too.

"Fortunate we're neighbors, huh?" You heard him gulp and, with all the strength you could muster, you found in yourself all the treason, sadness, anger, uncertainty, confusion and hurt to finally face Eugene. Getting up, you looked at the sweet boy from next door in the eyes, searching for his thoughts.

"You've been avoiding me." He flinched. Your tone was harsher and colder than you intended, making you feel a pang of guilt but you didn't let it show. Instead, you crossed your arms on your chest, to protect yourself from things you didn't know.

"I- Hurting you was never my intention, it was actually what I wanted to avoid the most. But it'd seem I only hurt you more, I'm sorry, [Y/N]. " He was sincere, you could see it and it was harder to stay bitter about it. Your pride and feelings have been wounded, that much was a fact, but deep inside, you knew you simply couldn't be mad at sweet, loving boy Eugene. Heart and legal things.

"Can we be friends and not strangers again?" If you were in the right state of mind, you probably would've answered something witty and watch him laugh at you but you had enough of your games. The said and the unsaid, the little gestures and the avoidance. 

"We're not just friends and you fucking know it, Gene. We've always been more and if you don't want anything to do with it, it's okay. But don't you dare act as if we don't know each other and the next day as if we were best friends. We're more than that, you are more than that to me." And I hope I'm more than that to you too. From the sad and wounded look on Eugene's face, your unspoken thoughts must've been obvious. Like a fish out of water, he opened then closed his mouth, furrowing his eyebrows as he fumbled over his words. Finally, he spoke a meteors shower over your fragile world, crushing and burning it down.

"I enlisted. I'm leaving tomorrow." Whatever was left from your previous anger died in your throat and your heart started beating faster and faster in your chest.

"What? When? What about your condition?" You blurted out, not believing what Eugene just said. He smiled thinly at you, like he didn't know if he should let you see just how happy and proud he was to finally be able to enlist.

"I went to the marines office two weeks ago; as soon as I knew it was gone." Tears started to well in your eyes, your entire body to shake uncontrollably.

"Oh. That's... that's good. You must be relieved." You forced yourself to add just a bit of happiness in your tone for him, for you knew just how important it was to him, no matter how much your heart was breaking. Eugene gave a small nod, his fingers playing with the handlebars of his bike. At your feet, Deacon was sitting still, his tongue out and his head going from you to Eugene, and from Eugene to you, as if he was understanding far more than he was letting you know.

"I'll do my part." There it was. The pride, excitement of a young man going straight into a wolf's open mouth. What felt like hours was in fact just a few minutes, not even 5 but your mind was replaying it like a movie in a theater. At that moment, it hit you like a truck. Two weeks. The last time you've both been yourself together also was two weeks ago. You swallowed back the knot in your throat and prayed your voice wouldn't shake as much as your hands were, hidden behind your back in an awkward formal position.

"When were you going to tell me?" His silence said everything you needed to know as he shifted uncomfortably, his head down in shame and sorrow. He looked at you again through his eyelashes, apologies and guilt in his eyes but you couldn't take it anymore. Eugene was too kind for his own sake, wouldn't hurt a fly and by wanting not to hurt you ended up harming you in one of the most twisted ways. It hurt because you couldn't be mad at him, that his intentions were good and genuine. You took a deep breath and made a step ahead, one hand clenching on Eugene's white shirt, looking at him in the eyes. If yours were narrowed and dark, his were widened and looking everywhere but at your face. 

"You better not die, you hear me? You come back, in one piece and we'll sort it out. At all costs, you come back!" You almost shouted to his face, not caring if the whole street had gone out to see you. Eugene's gentle hands came over yours, squeezing it lightly. In your wounded pride and building fear, you refused to face him and see his reaction, knowing perfectly you'd find compassion, and sweet understanding.

Forcing the once forgotten home-made pie wrapped in a white clean cloth onto Eugene's chest, you've waited to see his hand cover it before you turned around, fighting the urge to rub your eyes so the moisture in them would go. 

"For your mother. From mine." You whispered between two heavy breaths, nails digging into your palms painfully.

Before Eugene could fully apprehend what was happening and get out of the trance he was in, you were already in front of your house, looking at the floor.

"[Y/N], wait, [Y/N]!" You didn't look back, even though you ached to. But in a few hours he wouldn't even be in town anymore so what was the point? You just felt numb and empty, as if floating over your own body. Closing the door behind you, you walked up the stairs in silence and came into your room, your legs giving up on you as soon as the door closed.

You weren't sure how long you stood there, knees up to your chest, arms surrounding them and head buried in the safe spot it made. Your throat was still tight, making it hard to breathe.

Perhaps, it all would've been better if you hadn't spoken to him. 

Silence would've been preserved, fragile but there. Now all you could hear were those words said with so much pride and relief over and over again. 

I enlisted.

All you could hear was the sound of your heart breaking.

[crimsonwolfie]

Best Mistake Part 2 — Hamish Duke x Reader

Requested by @shania122600 and many more!

Prompt: The Reader (a Succubus) returns for her love, Hamish Duke, for one steamy night ;)

I haven’t proofread this as it’s 2am and i knew y’all wanted this, i kept you waiting long enough (really sorry!!) but i hope this makes up for it 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Warnings: smut and fluff :)

Word count: 3.639

Masterlist

Best Mistake Part 1

Tossing and turning, Hamish Duke kicks his legs out from under the duvet cover. Sweat beads drip from his forehead as his grey T-shirt sticks to his hot, sweaty body. Murmuring and groaning, he fidgets from side to side, clearly in and out of sleep.

The window is opened slightly, letting the white netted curtains to dance delicately in the breeze of the wind. Hamish stirs as the breeze hits his scorching hot skin, invigorating him. His lashes flutter as his eyes open gently, squinting as the moonlight shines a beam so bright onto his face. The covers are a heap and the air is thick, muggy with heat...evocation. Hamish sits up with one hand holding his head, rubbing his eyes, whilst leaning on the other hand that holds his weight.

The room is cold against his skin as shivers run up and down his spine like a marathon. He sighs, looking around the almost empty room that surrounds him. The room has an antique tone to it; walls painted an off-white with a singular wall painted a brewing crimson colour, with an unusual tile bordering of moons, stars and other symbols of some sort lining the top of the walls. A window, rectangle and fairly big, is seen beside Hamish. With nothing but the bed, a small wardrobe, a thin nightstand and an armchair in the corner (which is covered in clothes), the room seems fairly new...cosy. It’s minimal, but just right.

Although it’s summer, there’s still a bitter coldness in the air. Not just in temperature, but in ambience. An indescribable coldness that’s descended from somewhere unknown, somewhere utterly dark and unwelcoming.

Hamish wipes his forehead of sweat, pushing his ever-growing hair out of his eyes as it sweeps back effortlessly. His crystal eyes gleam in the moonlight as his skin reflects like milk off a silver tray. His palms are sweaty mom’s spaghetti haha as he grips on the bedsheet, arching his back as he stretches.

He stays still for a second, in a sort of sleepy daze, eyes fixated on the foot of his bed. Head tilting, he quickly snaps out the trance and reaches his arm to his bedside table, picking up his phone. The screen lights up full beam, causing Hamish to squint his eyes in instant regret as he scrambles to lower the brightness.

3:29am

“Great” Hamish mumbles with a croaky voice, laced with exhaustion. He sighs loudly, flopping back onto the bed, his head compressed in the pillows. This is the second week of restless nights he’d had - and they’re getting worse each night. At first, it was only a couple of broken sleeps...you know...nothing too dramatic. Then, it developed into vivid dreams which startle him and disturb him. Now...he hasn’t slept in a week, in order to avoid... them. His body wants to, so badly...but his mind isn’t having it. And it shows. Deep, dark bags surround the sockets of his eyes as his body grows weaker and feeble. His skin loses it’s glow and his mind is scattered. Everyone who sees him notices how much he’s let himself go, and they worry about him. Hell...he’s worried about himself.

Hamish throws his hands on his face, rubbing at his eyes hard, in an attempt to exhaust himself out. He kicks the covers off himself completely, revealing his loose knee-length shorts and bare feet. His mind wanders occasionally wanders to dark places from time to time, however lately it’s been happening a lot more. And every time, it’s the same place. A dark, painful place that he wishes to forget only for the reason that it brings him sadness, a nostalgia that he cannot get back. And what is that memory that his mind wanders to? Well, Y/N of course.

The truth is...every time he’d fall alseep, he’d dream of her. Vivid, realistic dreams of touching her, kissing her, being with her. Any other person would die for dreams like these with the person they loved, but Hamish...he didn’t. For him, it was a constant reminder that he’d lost another love that fulfilled his soul. It reminded him that he would never see her again, and he couldn’t handle that heartbreak.

He would reminisce about when he met Y/N, the Succubus, for the first time. Her beauty, elegance, poise, that mischievous glint in her eye which Hamish couldn’t tell if he was turned on by it...or threatened by it. He was infatuated by her, as if she held his soul in the cage of her heart.

It’s been 3 months since he’d last seen her. 3 months which felt like 3 years. Before he met her, he felt a hole in his soul. Ever since Cassie’s end, he’d never experienced something so true to ‘love at first sight’, he’d never believed he’d be truly happy again, or that he’d ever fall in love again...that was...until he met her. It was short, too short, but it gave him that electrifying feeling of wholesomeness again. Of happiness, love, euphoria. In those moments they had together, it was like he’d been hit by a century’s worth of feelings that he had lost. Both him and Tundra felt it...and she did too.

A single tear trickles down his pale, cold cheek at the memory of her. Lips quivering slightly, he bites down on his lower lip, scrunching his eyes shut tightly. He sits up gently, walking over to the open window for some air.

There’s something about nighttime that is so soothingly calm to him, almost as if he’s free. The silence that echoes around the clearing, the darkness dimly lit by the stars in the sky, the bitter sweet breeze smacking your rosy hot cheeks with an immense feeling of coolness.

Hamish rushes towards the window in desperation as if he cannot breathe, before inhaling deeply, releasing a hot breath into the night air. His head is stuck outside the window as his forearms lean against the windowsill. That familiar scent of fresh grass and slightly damp air surround him, leaving him feeling relaxed and at ease, until he feels the panic and sorrow leave slowly.

Part of him wishes his memories of her would disappear, so he can feel normal again...feel human. Although, part of him wishes they’d stay. Because she made him feel human. She made him feel alive, in ways he never thought possible.

He stares up to the moon, smiling softly.

“Hey, Y/N,” he begins with a voice barely above a whisper, “i miss you. And i know you probably can’t hear me, or see me for that matter...but you’ve messed with my head.” He grins, cheekiness glowing across his face. “I wish you were here, you know that. Well..i- i hope you’d know that...a..anyway”

He brings his hands to his face, cupping it whilst leaning on his elbows. “I think...i love you. And that scares me...really. Because the last woman i loved left me, and i....you know what nevermind. Anyway i uh...i guess i’m just saying hi, and that i miss you...” he looks down, a sad smile across his lips, but sadness painted across his expression. “Yeah...i really miss you.” he sighs “but please...Can you just let me slee-“

“-Only if i’m next to you”

Hamish’s eyes widen at the voice from behind him, as his body whips round and jaw drops at the sight in front of him. His eyes light up, his heartbeat quickens and races rapidly. His body shakes...is he hallucinating? Is this what happens when someone hasn’t slept for a week?

From out of the shadows, Y/N appears. Her beauty as astonishing as ever and her pace is slow, gentle. The gentle breeze pushes her hair from her shoulders as it flows through effortlessly. Hamish is frozen, he wants to touch you to make sure you’re real...but he can’t move.

You smile sweetly, lips berry red and cheeks lightly blushed pink. You take in the view in front of you as you slowly take a step closer to him, your sweet scent knocking him back to reality.

“Y/N...i...how are you here?” His voice cracks mid sentence, his arm barely lifted from the side of his chest. You laugh softly at his astonishment, thinking of how cute he was and how deeply you missed his face.

“Hey, cutie” you sigh, “i missed you, too.”

“I...” he begins, only to stop and rush his hands towards you, gripping you tightly as he lifts you up in the air for a hug, your legs wrapped around his torso and hands around his neck. You smile into his neck as his familiar scent of coconuts and musk fill your senses. He squeezes your body against his, almost as if he’s scared to let go again. Not again. Not ever again.

“How are you here?” His eyes are glossy with emotion and his voice is wobbly. His hands cup your face, as his thumbs rub against the sides of your cheeks softly. Your big Y/E/C orbs locked with his own, softness and comfort hidden deep within each other’s eyes.

“I made my way back to you, like i told you i would” you smile, bringing your hands to his own, which cup your face still, intertwining your fingers into his.

“But i...i thought you had to be summoned?”

“No, well...yeah,” you whisper “but i sort of made a deal with these dumb ass kids...they give me my freedom in exchange for A+ in all their classes-“ you roll your eyes playfully

“That’s not that bad!” Hamish interupts, his face blushing at your touch and his smile bright.

“-for the rest of their time at Belgrave.” you finish, nodding your head down at Hamish, who understands what you’re about to say next.

“Oh...i see...so you...exp..?” He hints, squinting as he looks for confirmation in your expressions

“...i gave them 3 weeks before they’ll be expelled” you smirk, head up whilst looking directly at Hamish’s eyes.

Hamish smirks back, knowing your mischievous side when it comes to making deals...you are a demon at the end of the day!

“They should have known better” he quietly murmurs with a smirk planted across his face. “Well, i’m glad they gave you your freedom. Very, very glad.”

With that, Hamish strokes your face as he brings his fingers to your shoulders, then to your arm. Electrifying shocks run through your body as butterflies roam freely in your stomach at his touch alone. Blood rushes to your cheeks, heating them up with a perfectly pretty pink shade. From the window behind Hamish, a breeze gusts through the room, sending your hair flying back effortlessly. You lean your forehead on Hamish’s, as he leans down slightly to reach you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down and place your lips on his. Passion, lust, desperation and pleasure coat the kiss as the world comes to a stop. Euphoria explodes in your mind as his soft, luscious lips compliment your own perfectly. Ham gets deeper into the kiss, slipping his tongue in between your mouth whilst gripping your waist and pushing it harder into his own body, completely breaking any distance between you both. His hands roam your curves and every part of your body, pushing your head deeper into the kiss. Lightly, you bite onto his lip which causes him to smirk into the kiss, moaning ever so quietly.

“You know that turns me on,” Hamish whispers in a husky tone, a light growl evident in the back of his throat.

“That’s my intention...” you hum on his lips.

Your hands leave his neck and lead to his hair, gently pulling every time the butterflies invade your stomach. Even as a succubus, you’ve never felt this turned on by anyone. And THAT is saying something...

“We have-“ he stutters out of breath in between your kisses, “-have to be quiet-“ your hands roam down to the rim of his shirt, causing Hamish to get a little too excited, “-others are here.” He takes a deep gasp of breath whilst looking up to the ceiling, then looking you up and down.

“Then we’ll be quiet.” A devilish smirk appears on your face, as you lock eyes with Hamish, then look down to his lips...faces barely apart.

Hamish bites his lip, attacking your face once again. Only this time, he pushes you to the wall, pressing your back into it as his body presses into your front. You moan in euphoria with your arms up above your head, hands and fingers intertwined with Hamish’s as he breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of hot and wet kisses on your neck. As he brings his hands down, he knocks one of your horns gently...to which startles him,

“Shit, I’m so sorry” he apologises, concern on his face as his brows and eyes crinkle in fears of him hurting you. Sweetly, you laugh whilst shaking your head and drawing over his features with the tip of your finger,

“Hey, it’s okay,” you reply sympathetically, tone soft and delicate, “you could never hurt me.”

Hamish takes a moment to soak in your beauty in front of him; the way your dark, bold wings form the most magnificent silhouette, how your clothes hug your perfect figure and curves irresistibly, the way your wide Y/E/C doe eyes captivate his soul in the way that he forgets how to breathe, your smile...so bright, contagious and exquisite. With skin as soft as the clouds above and lips as dreamy as sunsets in the heavens, you couldn’t have been more perfect to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hamish mouths into your skin, causing shivers to run through your body, “i never want to let you out of my sight again”

“Then don’t let me go”

“You can count on it, darling.” He brings his head back up to face you, mischief and adoration in his orbs. He stands there sandwiching you between the wall for a long few seconds, staring deep into your own eyes.

“Hey, carry on kissing me!” You huff, desperation lacing your voice.

“I can do one better” he pipes up confidently, as he begins to untie your blood red, laced top...slipping his fingers smoothly under the straps, letting them fall off your soft, delicate shoulders. As a sudden urge impulses you, you rip his top completely in half, revealing his toned chest. A low growl escapes his throat as he throws his lips back onto yours, fingers working tirelessly at the straps on your top, whilst yours work at his sweat-shorts. You throw your head to the side whilst soaking in the allure and pleasure before you. Before you know it, Hamish removes your top, leaving you in your bra and tight leggings. He picks you up, letting you wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you to the end of his bed...his lips never leaving yours.

Hamish lets you down gently, being careful to not hurt your wings, as he continues to undress you...you vice versa.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He whispers for consent, being the true gentleman he is.

“Of course. I want everything with you” you chirp “do you want it?”

“Why wouldn’t i?! You’re everything to me,” his smile speaks a thousand more words, but right now...you want nothing more than for no words. Just action. Smiling back, you wrap your hands around his neck, before snapping out of the moment,

“okay now carry on. Please.” You beg, pulling him forward from his neck. He crashes his body on yours after removing his sweat shorts impatiently. Skin to skin contact sends waves of pure electric through both your veins as hormones and pleasure flying through the roof. Your skin burns under his as he buries his head in between your shoulder, whilst slowly but firmly thrusting in. His hands search the bed for yours, intertwining as soon as he finds them. With your legs wrapped around his torso, you push yourself closer to his body, deepening the feeling inside you as simultaneous moans can be beard from the both of you, complete euphoria filling your senses.

A single beam of moonlight illuminates the room directly on Hamish’s face, allowing you to admire everything about him; the way his dimples show when he’s either concentrating or happy, how his cheeks are chiseled and his jawline is sharper than thousands of knives put together. His perfect skin complexion soft to the fingertips and his ocean eyes full of hope and life...and how his irises have a black lining around them, which follows the legend of how if one has a black line around their eyes...then they have a soul. Sure you’ve had your fair share of experience, of lust and hopeless devotion...but It’s little things like this that make you realise that love can be real...and that Hamish has truly captured your heart. Succubus’ are notorious for their seduction and willingness to draw emotion to their pray, without having to actually experience any their-self. However...every succubus has their one love, their power source for love, their anchor. Hamish is yours, and it took you until this long to realise.

Squirming under his weight, you bring your mind back to the present. His breath is rigid and his skin is sticky with sweat. Swiftly, you bring your hands to his hair and roughly tug at it, causing Ham to push himself deeper into you. You moan in satisfaction as you crash your mouth onto his with sloppy, wet kisses. Hamish returns your kisses with equal passion, occasionally biting your lip and tugging it with a small amount of force, leaving you to scratch at his back with your nails. As soon as you do so, Hamish’s claws make a quick appearance, gliding over your skin before he shakes it off and yearns control again. Due to your abilities of super strength, you manage to slip from under Hamish’s weight and flip your positions, so he’s now under your weight as you cradle his body with yours on top. It takes him a hot minute to notice, but when he does...he just get even more turned on.

You start to move your hips lightly forwards and backwards, leaving Hamish to squirm under you before moving in synchronisation to your movements. Easing into it, you both move in a delicate and ever so tender fashion, more intimate than sexual.

Hamish’s large hands position themselves on your hips, his thumbs drawing little circles around your skin as his grip tightens, meaning only one thing.

As you begin to feel the hot sweat on your body, you start to slow down, legs shaking upon reaching your climax, Hamish too. You take a deep breath and flop in his chest, your forehead on top of his. With your eyes closed, you think to yourself ‘i have never felt more alive than when i’m with him’ whilst Hamish tenderly kisses both your eyelids in pure devotion. You look up to him, forehead still resting on his, and smile. You lean forward and leave a final kiss on his perky lips before climbing off and lying on the bed, wrapping the sheets around your naked body.

The silence in the room is interrupted with the sound of rapid heartbeats and heavy breathing. Hamish turns to face you with his hands stretched out to rub your skin and one arm holding his head up.

“That was...amazing,” he kisses your nose “you’re amazing”

“I love you” you suddenly blurt out, almost as if it felt natural to say. After realising what you said, your eyes widen and cheeks blush immensely...instantly thinking you’d moved too fast

“I...i mean i uh...i” you stutter trying to save yourself, until realising that you can’t save yourself from something like that. ‘Nice one, Y/N’ you curse to yourself

“Hey, it’s okay” Hamish reassures you, his forefinger drawing small circles on your skin as his other hand runs through your hair

“I love you too, Y/N”

Your heart stops beating all of a sudden. Did he just say he loves you? You’ve never heard that before. You’ve never had someone love you - YOU before. In your eyes, you weren’t worthy of love. That you weren’t worthy of...him.

“I love you and i want to spend every night falling asleep by your side and every morning waking up to your face as the first thing i see when i open my eyes. I don’t care about realm rules or anything like that...all i care about is you.” His face is inches away from you at this point.

You’re left speechless at his declaration, but your eyes say everything you can’t say. Tears begin to drop from your eyes as your lips curl into a heartwarming smile. You pull Hamish into your face, kissing him passionately and intensely.

“No one’s ever made me feel the way you make me feel” you hush, your voice wobbly with emotion. “Thank you for being everything i wanted” Hamish grabs your hand in his, bringing your body into his for a warm snuggle. He brings the covers over you both as you nestle your face into the crook of his neck, your cheek flushed against his skin.

“So urm...was it just like how you dreamt?” You mutter curiously

“Yeah it was act...” his smile drops suddenly in confusion “...how did you know i had dreams of you...of this?”

You laugh playfully as you bring your hands to your face, covering your blushing cheeks from the man beside you “i maaayy have caused you to have those dreams...” you trail off, leaving Hamish to figure it out for himself

“You did dream-walking on me!” He gasps, eyes widening in surprise

“Hey!” You shush him with a finger to his lips “i couldn’t let you forget me could i?!”

I don’t know if i’ll write any more smut as it just felt ✨dirty✨ writing this idk, i have much respect to those who are able to write it 😂 let me know what you thought of this!

[litwitlady]

Demons

Read on AO3.

Warnings: Mentions of the toolshed.

Michael doesn’t really know why he comes here at night now. Partially because he’s happy the pain-soaked toolshed is finally gone. Partially because he misses the toolshed and feels like this square of dust and dirt belongs to him in some way. He wishes everything in his life wasn’t always so contrarian.

Sitting down, he spreads out his blankets and sleeping bag as best he can and opens his cooler. There’s beer and water inside. He’ll start with one beer and then switch to water. He flops over onto his stomach, but regrets hiding the stars so he turns back over and settles on his elbows instead. It takes him several sips of beer to find Polaris, but once he does, he breathes easier.

This is the sixth night in a row he’s come to this tainted place. The sixth night in a row he’s lain here and stared at the stars, fingers itching for Alex. A couple of nights ago he’d tried ridiculously to send telepathic messages across town. He’d closed his eyes and pictured Alex in his mind, shouting at him through his brain. But nothing had happened. Not so much as a single synapse spark in reply.

Tonight he decides to play another game. A more direct game with real consequences. Picking up his phone, he texts Alex - actually pressing send this time.

Michael: Guess where I am.

While he waits for a response, Michael returns his gaze to the night sky. Mars is bright tonight and the moon half-full. His mind wanders back to another night beneath the stars. Out in the desert with Alex snug on his chest - the first night they’d ever spent together. From sundown to sunup. He keeps that memory close enough to reach for in the moments he wakes up alone. Which have been far too often lately.

Alex: My old house.

Michael briefly stops breathing. His brain starts scrambling, considering that maybe his telepathy does work after all. Until he hears a car door slam and realizes Alex has only seen his truck.

‘You’ve been coming here a lot recently.’ Alex stops at his feet, kicking lightly at his boots. ‘All those happy memories keeping you warm at night?’

‘You come here?’ Michael sits up and hands Alex a beer, patting the empty space next to him in invitation.

Alex slowly works his way down next to Michael, stretching out his right leg. ‘I check the mail every couple of days. Nothing much comes anymore so I might as well stop.’

‘Are y’all going to sell the place?’

‘Eventually, I guess. We haven’t talked too much about it. I think Greg might be considering moving back to Roswell. Technically, the house is Clay’s, but he doesn’t seem to care what we decide to do.’ Alex takes the beer Michael offers him. ‘That’s my reason. Now what’s yours?’

‘I don’t know. But something keeps pulling me back here every night. Like maybe I’m trying to re-own the space - take it back somehow. Before I hated that shed, I loved it.’ He turns the half-empty beer bottle over in his hands. ‘I guess I’ve been a little lonely too. Got used to spending my nights with someone else. It was nice.’

‘I really wouldn’t know.’ Alex takes a long drink from his bottle and glances skyward. ‘I mean, the only time I spent my nights with someone else was overseas surrounded by dozens of other people. And that still always felt lonely as fuck.’

Michael tries to hold his tongue. But doesn’t. ‘Thought you preferred spending your nights alone.’ Alex flinches and Michael sighs, reaching out and placing his hand on Alex’s forearm. ‘Sorry. That’s a bad reflex.’

‘It’s okay.’ Alex stares down at Michael’s hand on his arm. ‘You’re not wrong. Just ask Forrest.’

Michael doesn’t respond at first. He gives Alex’s arm a quick squeeze and then lies back down, tossing his empty bottle into the cooler. ‘Forrest?’ He’s willing to listen if that’s what Alex needs from him.

‘I broke up with him earlier tonight.’ That was not at all what Michael expected him to say. ‘Never felt right. Mostly, it felt deeply wrong being in his bed or him being in mine. I tried to lie to myself. Tried to force myself to stay. But.’ He shrugs his shoulders and falls silent.

‘I’m sorry, Alex. I thought you two might really have a shot at something.’ Michael reaches out for him again, hand landing on the center of his back and working comforting circles between his shoulder blades.

Alex looks over his shoulder, eyes dropping to Michael’s. ‘Really?’

It’s Michael’s turn to shrug. ‘He looked at you like how I imagine I look at you. But without all the baggage. Seemed possible.’

Alex shakes his head softly back and forth, a bit wistful - a bit sad. ‘I spent the whole time with him missing you.’ He faces forward again, turning away from Michael.

But Michael sits up, following him. Fist twisting in Alex’s shirt when he tries to put distance between them. ‘I missed you too. That’s probably why I come here. Loneliness, yes. But also to feel closer to you in some seriously fucked up way.’ He attempts a small smile and Alex does the same. ‘Lying here in the dirt with all our demons.’

He tugs at Alex until they are both lying flat. They stare up at the stars quietly until Alex rolls into his side, resting his head in the crook of Michael’s shoulder and flattening his palm onto the center of Michael’s chest. Michael doesn’t breathe again until he feels Alex exhale against him. ‘I don’t mind sharing demons with you.’

Michael grabs Alex’s hand, the one on his chest and decides then and there to never let go.